#can he create a rule where people can’t breathe when they get too close?

[scary-grace]

Skin Hunger (Chapter 2) -- a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

There's no such thing as a good night at work when you work in the world's most infamous brothel for monsters, but your night takes a turn for the worse when you find yourself serving drinks to visiting half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura. You don't mean to catch his interest, and you don't mean to start a conversation. You definitely don't mean to get him drunk. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Life in Asylum continues, and in the endless scroll of days and nights, cleanups in empty rooms and mop-ups in private parties, it’s almost possible to forget about the half-vampire who will be back at the next full moon. Almost, but not quite. Vampires are a rare enough occurrence in Asylum that everyone’s talking about Shigaraki Tomura and his master, and since they’re going to be regulars, Overhaul provides more than a little education for the staff about the one type of inhuman next to no one has experience with.

Most of the workers don’t care, but you pay close attention. Your knowledge of vampires contains next to nothing concrete. You need to learn, if you want to hold your own during your next conversation with Shigaraki Tomura.

Vampirism is spread through a bite – true. Everyone who’s bitten becomes a vampire – false. Apparently, creating a new vampire requires intention on the part of the vampiric sire, which probably helps to keep the population down. The mechanism that causes half-vampirism is unclear, but what’s perfectly clear is that half-vampires are something unusual. They need to consume blood, just like vampires do, but unlike vampires, they also need to eat. They still have heartbeats, still need to breathe, still need to see the sun every so often. Beyond that, though, no one’s able to describe what powers a half-vampire has, or the degree of strength advantage they have over an ordinary human, or whether they can turn into a true vampire – or how they do it. The question of what Shigaraki’s capable of is one you’re not able to answer, and it bothers you. Then again, if Shigaraki had correctly guessed what you are, he’d be equally in the dark as to what you’re able to do.

Most inhuman species have some sort of biological limitations, just like humans do. Werewolves still need to eat and sleep, and while bullets will damage them, silver bullets are the true threat. Liches and demons can’t set foot on holy ground, no matter which faith has consecrated a given spot, and shapeshifters lose their forms if they get too tired. Everybody knows all about vampires and sunlight. Faeries don’t have limitations. Faeries have rules.

Faeries can’t lie. Lying has physical consequences. Faeries have given names and true names, and while the true names are the most dangerous, even knowledge of a title or nickname can grant some degree of power over them. Faeries are vulnerable to iron, but not in the same way werewolves are vulnerable to silver. A gift offered by a faery is never just a gift; either it comes in repayment for an earlier favor, or it comes with strings attached. Nothing your father’s people give is ever given freely.

And that’s where you got yourself in trouble. You did Shigaraki a favor by using your glamour on him. If that particular rule applies to you as a half-fey, you’ve bound Shigaraki to you until he can repay the debt.

All of that would be enough to deal with heading into the next full moon, and you feel like it’s possible to handle. But three nights before the vampires are set to arrive, the itching starts, and things go from manageable to impossible in the space of an hour.

The last time this happened, you took a few days off of work until it was over, but it’s occurring over a much larger area on your body – your entire left arm, shoulder to wrist, and it’s not going to peel away until it’s ready. If you try, you’ll open yourself up to infection, and if that doesn’t kill you, the way it’ll look once it’s healed will probably make you wish you were dead. You can manage not to scratch while you’re on shift, but when you’re off, you’re scratching constantly, and every last one of your coworkers has something to say about it.

“Better not do that where the boss will see,” Nemoto remarks as you’re all eating in the cramped servants’ mess. “He finds fleas disgusting.”

Nemoto knows damn well you don’t have fleas; he just doesn’t like you, because his demonic ability to force confessions doesn’t work on faeries, and that includes you. The maid you’re sitting next to recoils away from you, and across the table, Tengai rolls his eyes. “It’s not fleas,” he says. “Haven’t any of you seen a half-fey molt before?”

“It’s not molting,” you say uselessly. It would only be molting if you did it regularly.

“Of course none of you have seen it,” Chrono says. Usually he eats with Overhaul, but sometimes Overhaul can’t stand being around even his right-hand man. “Half-fey in general are rare, and her variety of half-fey is rarer still.”

Everyone looks at you. You can’t tell if they’re waiting for you to explain or thinking that they’ll figure it out if they just stare hard enough. Either way, your face turns red, and Chrono heaves a dramatic sigh. “For most of you half-breeds, it doesn’t matter which of your parents was the inhuman. It matters for faeries.”

Tabe burps. “Why?”

Why questions are usually safe to ask Chrono – asking Overhaul a why question results in either a flat, irritated look or a two-hour lecture about the minutiae of the topic. “It’s unclear,” Chrono says. “What is clear, however, is that half-fey children take after their fathers in appearance and lifespan, and their mothers in magical ability.”

“Huh?”

Chrono doesn’t have his mask on. This time you can see him roll his eyes. “Children of human fathers and faery mothers resemble humans, and have human lifespans. Despite that, they have significant magical abilities.”

“How strong are they?” Rappa asks through a full mouth. “Stronger than regular human magicians?”

Chrono shrugs. You, meanwhile, think about a conspiracy theory you read in one of Overhaul’s books – that all human magic-users are secretly matrilineal half-fey, whose mothers either abandoned them to their fathers or swapped out the child of an unknowing human couple for one of their own. If that was the case, nobody would ever know. Other than the magic, matrilineal half-fey are indistinguishable from ordinary humans. “Hang on,” Setsuno says. “If half-fey take after their fey parent in how they look, how come she looks so human?”

“She doesn’t,” Chrono says. He looks to you, and you lower your hand from your shoulder. You’ve been using the cover of the conversation to scratch to your heart’s content. “Show them.”

You give him a pleading look, which he ignores, and finally you rise from the table and back away. You’re still wearing your uniform, so you pull up the skirt on your right side, revealing your leg. The table recoils as a group, and you’re pretty sure everybody’s thinking exactly what comes out of Rappa’s mouth. “What the fuck?”

“Patrilineal half-fey inherit their father’s lifespan,” Chrono says, “and their appearance – or some of it. They appear to be completely human until they reach physical maturity, at which point they begin a partial transformation. You can see the patches where fey skin has grown in to replace human skin, creating a patchwork which renders the half-fey unable to conceal their true nature.”

It’s not just your skin. Your ears have begun to change shape, growing pointed at the tips, and the natural color of your eyes has taken on a strange iridescent overlay. You need to blink less than you used to, sometimes – other times, it’s a struggle to keep your eyes open in the light without sticky, pearlescent tears oozing from them. If your father had been one of any of half a dozen varieties of fey, you’d have seen changes with your mouth, with your hands, even with the way you breathe. But while your mother never told you anything concrete about your father, she was at least able to confirm that he didn’t have gills.

Your transformation is mainly cosmetic. That doesn’t make it any less terrible, and cosmetic is a relative term. “Due to their appearances and lack of other gifts, half-fey used to make frequent appearances in human freak shows,” Chrono continues. “Some also theorize that the reason they’re unwelcome in faery society is due to their ugliness.”

“Oh.” Your coworkers are nodding at this, like it makes sense to them. Nemoto’s looking right at you when he responds. “I get it.”

You know you’re not pretty, but that doesn’t mean you like having it hammered home. You drop the right side of your skirt back down and sit again, and spend the rest of the meal picking at your food. Your appetite’s gone, and your shoulder is still itching. Even though you’re exhausted from your shift, you’re going to have a hard time falling asleep.

You’re making a beeline back to your quarters, with the intention of trying to shower off the itch and falling asleep immediately afterwards, when Chrono catches up to you. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

“Thank you?” Backtalking to your boss is a terrible idea, but you can’t hold onto your skepticism. “For what?”

“I explained your situation, so you wouldn’t have to.” Chrono looks pleased with himself. “I did you a favor.”

“You could have done that without calling me ugly.”

“Should I have lied? It’s not as if you’re unaware,” Chrono says. He reaches out, hooks the neckline of your uniform with one finger, and pulls it aside. “How much skin are you going to lose this time?”

“Everything on my arm,” you say. Chrono looks surprised, and you seize the opportunity to shy away from his hand. “Goodnight, boss.”

“Your arm,” Chrono muses. “That’ll be a sight to see.”

Yes, it will. The juxtaposition of smooth, perfect, oil-slick shimmering faery skin with plain human skin on the same body is enough to make anyone’s skin crawl, yours included. You turn away from Chrono, and you’re almost out of earshot, almost to safety, when you hear him speak again. “You’ll have to show me when it’s done.”

That’s not the first comment like that you’ve heard from Chrono in the past year or two. They’re becoming increasingly frequent, and you know what they mean, just like you know you don’t want anything to do with them. You mumble another goodnight and duck into the female servants’ quarters, shedding your clothes and slipping a faint glamour over yourself as you step into the shower. You’re pretty sure there aren’t scrying mirrors in here, but at the same time, you’re pretty sure that if any guests wanted to pay to watch the maids shower, Overhaul would find a way to make it happen.

The hot water helps dull the itch, for now. You dry off and change into your sleeping clothes, noting every spot on your body where your heritage has surfaced. Your right leg is covered, thigh to calf, wide sashes and ribbons of fey skin interrupting your skin, jagged and gaudy. Your torso is covered, too, but you were smarter with that – when it was time, you peeled your dying skin away in a single piece rather than clawing it to ribbons. There’s some on your lower back that you never tried to peel away at all, and as a result, the fey skin is pitted and scarred. It looks hideous. You look hideous.

You know it’s true, but at the same time, you know you’re lucky. You’ve seen photos of half-fey whose fey skin broke through on their faces, unmistakable and impossible to hide. At least you’ve got a prayer of hiding this. Or you will, once you’ve peeled this next sheet of skin away to reveal what’s beneath. You crawl into bed and close your eyes, hoping that the itching will wake you in the middle of the night, so severe that you’ll have no choice but to peel the skin off right then and there. The waiting is the worst part. You just want it to be over before the full moon.

But it isn’t over before the full moon. It’s the biggest piece of skin you’ve lost – the last big piece you’ll lose, if only half your skin changes – and it’s clinging on for dear life. You beg Overhaul to help you, to employ the magic he uses to reshape the workers’ bodies when they’re injured, but he refuses. “The reaction between your meager magic and mine is too unpredictable,” he says. “I can’t help you.”

“Then let me have the night off,” you plead. He shakes his head. “Please. I won’t be any use if the skin breaks through.”

“You have my full permission to take your break to remove it,” Overhaul says, and you bite back tears. You were barely functional after you excised the skin on your torso. There’s no way you’ll be able to work with your left arm freshly peeled. “Not only is it a full moon, it’s also the autumnal equinox. We��ll need your glamours if any of the half-dozen rituals scheduled to take place here get out of hand.”

The equinoxes are the only nights where ordinary humans are allowed into Asylum, and they’re barely ordinary – they’re cultists, devoted to the worship of specific demons, conducting rituals that would get them thrown in prison in the human world. “And even if that were not the case,” Overhaul says, “there is a certain half-vampire scheduled to arrive with his master, and I doubt anyone else will be able to get him drunk.”

You were already stressed about running into Shigaraki Tomura again, but the idea of seeing him tonight sends you into a near-panic. “Sir –”

“That’s enough,” Overhaul says, and you fall silent in a hurry. “The moon is about to rise in Kiribati, and you aren’t in uniform. Get changed.”

You won’t win this. You know you won’t. You leave Overhaul’s study, hoping that the skin on your arm will hold out for another twenty-four hours – and hoping that Shigaraki Tomura’s master decided to leave him at home.

The autumnal equinox is fairly quiet as far as equinoxes go, but it’s not often that it occurs on a full moon, and from the moment the moon comes up over an even slightly populated area, Asylum devolves into barely-controlled chaos. The casualty count for workers exceeds an average full moon within the first three hours, and for the first time in a while, Overhaul comes out of his study to help repair the bodies rather than expecting them to be brought to him. Chrono equips the workers with alarm sigils, which will trigger a warning if their heart rates drop below a certain threshold. It’s an unusual precaution, but you know better than to think it’s out of any concern for the workers’ health – more that if too many of them die, Asylum won’t be able to serve all the guests who are flooding through the door.

You’re doing some of everything – a little cleaning, a little mopping up, a little belting a demon in the face with a mop when they won’t let go of the badly injured worker you’re trying to take back to Overhaul. You’re busy enough that you can almost forget about the itching, about the faery skin that’s trying to erupt through your skin on your left arm. For the first seven hours of the night, you run yourself ragged, doing whatever Overhaul’s ordered you to do, racing from floor to floor and trying to spot trouble before it begins. You’ve lived in Asylum your entire life. There’s nobody who knows their way around better than you do.

At hour eight, Overhaul summons you to the makeshift infirmary. When you get there, you spot a pile of discarded gloves on his right, a bubbling cauldron on his left, and a newly healed worker sprawled out in front of him. “Get out,” Overhaul orders the worker, and she scrambles upright, falls, and crawls unsteadily towards the exit. The instant she’s gone, Overhaul plunges his hands into whatever’s boiling inside the cauldron.

You don’t want to know what’s in there, and based on the grimace on Overhaul’s face, you don’t even want to go near him. But he summoned you. You step forward. “Sir?”

“The first ritual is about to begin. You’ll be supervising it.”

Your stomach drops. “I can’t,” you say. Overhaul mutters a curse under his breath. “I can’t! I don’t have magic –”

“You think throwing more magic at an out-of-control ritual will solve the problem? Playing stupid won’t get you out of it.” Overhaul lifts his hands from the cauldron and you startle at the sight of them. His fingers have been eaten down nearly to the bone, and in spite of the fact that he’s repairing them before your eyes, you can’t help but feel nauseous. “There are supply kits in my study, with the measures necessary to contain a ritual. All that’s required of you is to deploy them. Go.”

“Sir –”

“I don’t have time for this,” Overhaul snaps at you, and you flinch. You’ve never seen him this stressed before. “Chrono is needed elsewhere. None of the others but you possess a sensitivity to magic, and no one other than me is able to perform the repairs. Succeed at this and you’ll be rewarded appropriately. I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you fail.”

You know exactly what will happen if you fail. You nod mutely. “The supply kits can be found in the furthest cupboard. Hold out your hand,” Overhaul says. When you do, he traces a rune into your right palm. “Use this to unlock them. Go.”

You have more questions – like how to figure out which countermeasure to use first, or how to tell when they’re needed in the first place – but Rappa’s coming through the door carrying another worker, and Overhaul’s attention shifts from you. He’s not going to change his mind, and there’s no one else who can do the job. There’s nothing for you to do but head for Overhaul’s study. Being expected to supervise a ritual is bad enough. Being late to it is probably worse.

The cultists are making final preparations for their ritual in the smallest of Asylum’s three gardens. You’re not sure which cult this is, but they brought their own sacrifice, bound hand and foot in spite of the fact that they’re unconscious. You try not to look too hard at them. You don’t look too hard at the cultists, either. You pry open the supply kit and study the items within. Now that you’re looking at it, they seem pretty straightforward. Salt and consecrated chalk, for sealing the paths leading to the garden off from the rest of Asylum. A set of wardstones to keep anyone from entering once the ritual begins. A sheet of runes to trace in midair, as an extra precaution. None of it requires more than the tiniest amount of magic. Maybe this is doable.

You confirm that all the cultists are in the garden, then get to work, starting with the salt and chalk across each path leading into the garden. Next it’s the wardstones. The cultists are using a pentagram in their rituals, which means you need a hexagram to contain them properly. Wardstones are simple enough to set. You set them spinning with a twist of your fingers and leave them to hover. A few more of these, then a few sigils, and then you’re all set. You can do this.

A single footfall and a shadow falling across yours are the only warnings you get before a familiar voice rings out from behind you. “If you don’t want people to think you’re a witch, you shouldn’t spend so much time casting spells,” Shigaraki Tomura says, and you nearly jump out of your skin. “Did you miss me?”

It takes an effort not to throw the wardstone at him. “I’m not a witch. And this isn’t a spell.”

“It looks like a spell,” Shigaraki says. He looks way too pleased with himself for reasons beyond your understanding. “That’s two spells I’ve seen you do. Your boss is a warlock, so I don’t get why you’d lie about being a witch.”

You were dreading meeting Shigaraki again, in part because you were sure he’d guessed that you were half-fey. Apparently not. “That wasn’t a spell, and neither is this,” you say. “I’ll show you.”

“Huh?”

You motion for him to come forward, and he does, looking way too suspicious. What does he think you’re going to do? You’re not the one who drinks blood. “Hold this,” you say, and push the wardstone into his hand. “Now, do this –”

You show him the proper gesture to activate it, and he tries it – and drops it, just like you did the first time you tried it. Before you can tell him to try again, he picks it up and looks at you. “Show me again.”

You show him the gesture, and this time he copies it much more closely. The wardstone spins out of his hand and hovers in midair, the last piece of the hexagram you’ve been constructing falling into place. Shigaraki looks surprised, then pleased with himself again. You’re less annoyed with it this time, mostly because it’s given you a chance to prove your point. “You can do it, and you have even less magic than I do. It’s not a spell.”

“This one isn’t a spell,” Shigaraki agrees. He’s mimicking the gesture again, even better on the third try. “The other one was.”

A glamour’s not a spell. If it was a spell, it could be replicated by anyone else, but your glamour is an extension of your nature as a half-fey. You won’t be able to convince Shigaraki otherwise without outing yourself, so you keep quiet, and you set back off around the garden, headed for where you left the supply kit. Shigaraki follows you. “I went to the bar. You weren’t there,” he says. “Are you avoiding me or something?”

“I don’t work in the lounge most of the time. That night I was just filling in.” You’re conscious, suddenly, of the fact that you’re in the maid uniform – and that the maid uniform doesn’t come with even the most useless of masks. “To be honest, I didn’t know you were here.”

Shigaraki makes an affronted sound, but you’ve reached the supply kit, and you have runesigns to trace. In the garden, the cultists are moving into position to begin their ritual. You hold the sheet in one hand and begin to trace the sigils in midair. “What do you do most of the time, then?” Shigaraki asks. “If you’re not down there.”

“I clean.” You make the mistake of gesturing at your uniform, and Shigaraki takes the invitation to look you up and down. “And whatever else Overhaul needs me to do.”

“Like this. What is this?”

“There are cult rituals happening tonight. Overhaul and Chrono are both busy, so they asked me to keep an eye on this one.”

“Huh.” Shigaraki looks away from you, into the garden. “My master had a cult for a while.”

You really don’t know what to think of that, except that if it had been relevant, it would have been the first thing Overhaul and Chrono told the staff about. “How old is your master?”

“Old,” Shigaraki says, which tells you absolutely nothing. “What about your boss?”

“Also old.”

Shigaraki snorts. “What about you?” You clam up instantly, and he rolls his eyes. “Come on. Either your name, what you are, or how old you are. Give me at least one.”

Out of those three pieces of information, your age is the one that won’t get you in trouble. That doesn’t mean you won’t make him work for it. “You first.”

“Come on,” Shigaraki complains. You wait, watching as the cultists pick up their unconscious sacrifice and lay him out on the altar they built out of bones they brought from home. “Not that it matters or anything, but I’m twenty-three. Your turn.”

“Twenty-three,” you repeat. You can’t tell if you’re surprised by his age or not, but the fact that he’s still counting it means he’s still mortal. Your age stopped mattering two years ago, but you’ve kept count anyway. “Me, too.”

“Was that so hard?” Shigaraki grins, just a little too widely. The only thing that keeps you from calling it a leer is an instinct that it’s not born out of triumph at getting one over on you. A moment later, you’re proven right. “I knew it.”

Why does it matter to him that you’re the same age? A low hum begins to vibrate through the air, and the sigil hovering just in front of you wavers. The ritual’s beginning, and you need to focus. Unfortunately for you, Shigaraki’s still here. You need to shake him off. “I’m surprised you’re not with your master. Aren’t you here to feed?”

“He’s here to feed. I’m here to learn,” Shigaraki says. Learn what? “This looks more interesting than whatever else is going on around here.”

The hum in the air intensifies. Beneath the sleeve of your uniform, you feel your skin beginning to crawl. “If you’re going to stay, keep quiet. I need to concentrate.”

“Right. Witches need to concentrate when they’re doing magic.”

You’ve decided not to respond to any more witch jokes. The cultists are chanting in one of the demonic languages, drawing in close to surround the altar and obscure the sacrifice. Now that you think about it, you’re not sure what kind of sacrifice this is, and regardless of whether it’s symbolic or literal, you don’t want to watch it. You especially don’t want to watch it with Shigaraki – Shigaraki, who’s standing next to you, head tilted to one side, scratching idly at his neck. Seeing him scratch makes you want to scratch. You peer down into the supply kit instead, wondering which of the objects inside you’re supposed to use first if things get out of hand.

“Is there food here?”

Out of all the things Shigaraki might have said, you weren’t expecting that. “Huh?”

“Food,” Shigaraki says again. “Is there food here?”

It feels like round two of the WiFi conversation, except this time, you’re able to give him the answer he’s hoping for. “Yes. Why?”

“After this. We should get some.”

“Um –”

“You get breaks, right? Even witches have to eat.” Shigaraki’s scratching harder than before, and he’s not looking at you. “I’m hungry.”

He is really skinny, but he’s also a half-vampire. You know half-vampires still need blood, and you focus on that question instead of the other, worse one. “Not thirsty?”

“I have money. I can pay for it,” Shigaraki says, ignoring you. “And you helped me out the last time I was here.”

“I’m the one who got you drunk.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t owe –”

“Stop talking.” You’ve interrupted him, but it’s not enough – he’s already opening his mouth again, and you slap your hand down over it before he can get another word out. “I mean it.”

Shigaraki’s red eyes are wide. You can’t tell if it’s with affront or with shock. His lips move against the palm of your hand, dry and rough, and a weird jolt travels through you, raising the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck. It’s drowned out a second later by a vibration through the air that makes you stagger. The sigil in front of you dissolves, unable to stand in the face of another wave emanating from the site of the ritual.

The wave abates, for a moment, and you think you’re safe – but the next thing you know, you and Shigaraki are both staggering as the vibration travels through the ground in addition to the air. You don’t need anybody to tell you that the ritual’s gotten out of hand, and you dive into the supply kit, searching desperately for something that can counteract a demonic curse. Something whips past you from the opposite direction, slicing your cheek. You don’t look up. You’re busy.

Shigaraki catches Overhaul’s message and pries it open, reads it aloud. “Your boss wants you to play a song. How are you supposed to play a song when phones don’t work in here?”

“Tell me you don’t really think that music only comes out of phones.” You pull a music box out of the bottom of the supply kit, dust it off, and open it. No music comes out – you must have to turn the handle. “Be quiet.”

Music begins to emanate from the box after two turns of the handle – a thin, quiet voice, singing what sounds like a lullaby in a language you don’t speak. You doubt the cultists speak it, either. But it doesn’t matter what the words are, or even that the singer is at least a little tone-deaf. All that matters is the glamour that drips from every note, stronger and heavier than anything you’ve ever called up. It’s a faery’s voice, and it’s already affecting Shigaraki. He sways sideways, falls hard against a column, the curse he mumbles more slurred than his voice was when he was drunk. The glamour is almost overpowering. If you weren’t half-fey, you’d fall prey to it yourself.

It’s strong enough to stagger Shigaraki and disorient you, but it’s not having much of an effect on the ritual itself. The vibrations are still traveling through the air, and worse, you can feel them in the ground beneath your feet. You keep turning the handle of the music box with no change in the strength of the demonic curse emanating from the center of the garden. Why isn’t it working?

The answer occurs to you just as Shigaraki speaks up. “It’s too quiet,” he mumbles. “Witch. Make it louder.”

You can’t. The despair barely has time to settle in before the answer occurs to you. You can’t make the voice from the music box louder, but you can make sure it’s not the only fey voice in the garden. You clear your throat, coat your voice in your glamour, and begin to sing.

It’s nothing – some song you liked when you could walk freely in the human world, the first thing that comes to mind. You make an effort to match the key the music box is singing in, and you project both your voice and your glamour, doing your best to build on what the faint fey voice is already providing. You think it might be working. You’re not sure.

What you do know is that Shigaraki’s figured you out. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, still slumped against the column, staring unabashedly at you as you turn the handle of the music box and sing. You’re able to console yourself with the thought that your uniform hides your patchwork fey skin before you realize what a stupid thing that is to think about – right now, or ever. Your throat is starting to hurt, your vocal cords straining under the weight of the glamour. You aren’t sure how much longer you can keep this up.

The vibrations from the ritual begin to fade just as your voice begins to crack, and it gives you the willpower to hold on a little longer, the notes you sing growing increasingly fractured and hoarse. By the time your voice gives out completely, the demonic energy’s faded to the point where the music box is enough to counter it. Your ears are ringing, so much that you almost miss Chrono’s footsteps as he approaches. He notes Shigaraki, then looks to you. “You should have called for help.”

“From who?” Your voice sounds awful. You cough. “I took care of it.”

“If that demonic energy had gotten into the flux field, it could have destabilized the entire dimension,” Chrono snaps. “Someone as weak as you has no business trying to contain –”

“If she can’t contain it, you shouldn’t have sent her to watch it.” Shigaraki levers himself upright. “Something was off about that ritual. Isn’t it your job to catch things like that? Or are you really okay with a bunch of human cultists sacrificing half-demons in your pocket dimension?”

“Half-demon?” Chrono swears. “They wouldn’t dare.”

“I can smell its blood.” Shigaraki shrugs. “She saved your ass. Give her a bonus or something.”

Chrono handles being told what to do by people other than Overhaul about as well as Rappa handles being told what to do by anybody. His shoulders stiffen, and his hand closes around your upper arm, venting a sharp jolt of magic into you rather than loosing it at Shigaraki. At least, that’s what you think he’s doing. Then the skin on your right arm, itchy and crawling since three days ago, erupts with an itch so sharp and acidic that it almost feels like a burn.

Your arm is on fire. You’ve felt this before, and you know instantly that you can’t leave it a second longer. “I need my break,” you say to Chrono, your voice strained.

He lets you go with a sharp nod. You turn and all but run from the garden, already clawing off your apron.

No time to get back to the servants’ quarters, but Asylum is full of places to hide if you know where to look. And you know where to look. With a master rune like the one you carry, you can open up passageways and closets that even the savviest of guests don’t know exist, and you’ve used them more times than you’d like to admit. You reach the nearest of the passageways and raise the rune to tap against the wall, only for the agonizing itch in your left arm to flare to new heights. Your body contorts in discomfort, and your right hand falls back to your side – and then, so fast that you barely register it, someone slips the rune from around your wrist.

It's Shigaraki, and he’s got enough of a height advantage over you that he can hold the rune out of reach just by extending his arm. You don’t have time for this. You really don’t have time for this. You can feel the fey skin beginning to eat through yours from below. “Give it back!”

“So that was why you wouldn’t let me say I owed you. You’re a faery, not a witch.” Shigaraki’s grinning like he’s figured something out, even though the clue you gave him was a thousand times more obvious than the clue you got a month ago. “Why didn’t you want me to owe you one? My master is powerful. You could have asked me for anything.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Except this.” Shigaraki studies the rune. You reach for it again and he holds out his other hand to forestall you. “You want this, and I want a straight answer. The ritual’s done. Do you want to go get food with me or not?”

The small part of you that’s not panicking, caught in the desperate need to get the rune back, to get away, notices how he’s phrased the question. He knows that faeries can’t lie, and for some bizarre reason, he’s decided to corner you on a question so mundane that you wonder if you’re hallucinating it. Why would he waste a question he thinks you’ll have to answer on something this stupid?

It doesn’t matter, because half-fey can lie as much as they want, and because you’re done playing around. You glamour your left arm, faking a clumsy feint, and when Shigaraki shifts away from it, you snatch the rune from his hand with your right. He’s between you and the wall, so you turn away, pressing the rune against the opposite wall and opening up the passageway there. You dive through it, the relief at being out of the hallway marred only by the fact that Shigaraki followed you in.

The passageway you were aiming for originally had space. This one is a close fit for one person, tight for two, but you’re out of time to be picky. You can’t get your arm out of your dress without unbuttoning it partway. “What are you doing?” Shigaraki asks, clearly startled, as you undo the buttons one-handed and draw your arm from your sleeve. “Are you transforming?”

Even the slightest motion of your arm sets off a wave of pins and needles, and you grit your teeth as you work it free. Bared from wrist to shoulder, your arm looks awful, mottled, bulging in odd places, almost writhing in others – like the fey skin really is trying to claw its way to freedom from the inside out. Seeing what it looks like only hardens your resolve. You dig your fingers into your shoulder, trying to pry up a piece of skin. If you get a good enough grip on the first one, you can peel off the rest in one sheet.

But you can’t get a grip. Your hand is shaking too much, or your nails are too short, or something. You remember too late that the only other time you peeled the skin back, you made the first incision with a pocketknife. Overhaul doesn’t let the staff carry weapons. You don’t have anything on you that’s sharp enough to cut through your skin, and if you can’t – there’s no way you’ll be able to scratch all your skin away before the fey skin eats through. It’ll be agonizing. It’ll take forever. And Shigaraki will be watching you the entire time.

Shigaraki. You turn to him, desperate and hating yourself for it. You know that guests are searched for weapons when they arrive, but maybe – “Do you have anything sharp?”

“Like a knife?” Shigaraki shakes his head. Then his expression shifts, and he raises one hand to his mouth, pressing the pad of his thumb against one of his incisors. You see blood well up where the tooth breaks his skin. “My teeth aren’t as sharp as my master’s –”

If they can draw blood, they’re sharp enough. You beckon him forward. “Please.”

Part of you is expecting him to bargain. Any inhuman would, if they had one of the Fair Folk at their mercy – they’d never get better terms for any deal they wished to make. But Shigaraki steps forward, closing the slight distance between you without asking what you’ll give him in exchange. His hands are dry, his palms rough like before, as they close around your wrist and raise your hand towards his mouth. “Here?”

His breath is hot against your wrist. You shake your head. “My shoulder.”

Some part of you is terrified at the thought of letting a vampire this close to your throat, screaming in terror at the thought of those teeth meeting your skin. Shigaraki edges even closer to you, as close together as you were when you were dragging him drunk down the hall. His mouth brushes against your shoulder, and you freeze in place. What is he waiting for? You don’t need him to peel the skin off for you. You just need him to –

At least one of Shigaraki’s incisors punctures your skin, and you flinch, hiss – less at the pain, and more at the fact that he’s touching you, one hand on your waist and the other around your wrist, keeping your left arm extended and keeping the rest of you close. But you’ve got what you needed from him. You dig your fingers into the breach, get a good grip, and pull.

It hurts when you peel your human skin away from the faery skin that’s grown beneath, but the human skin is already dead. As it breaks contact with your body, it goes ashen, then transparent. There’s next to no blood. The faery skin glistens, slick with serous fluid, as it’s bared to the air for the first time. You mess up a little bit at the end, peeling away a piece of healthy human skin on the back of your hand by accident. It feels like a hangnail, and your entire arm stings. The pain would be worth complaining about if you didn’t know exactly how bad it was before.

Shigaraki’s still way too close to you. You try to sidle away, and he lets go of your waist, but not your arm. He’s peering intently at it, almost fixated. You brace yourself for the kind of comments you’ve heard every time someone’s seen what you really look like. “Wow,” Shigaraki says. “It looks even cooler than I thought.”

You’re not sure you heard him right. “Cool?”

“Don’t fish for compliments. I’m getting to it,” Shigaraki says. He hasn’t looked up from your arm yet. “I thought it would look cool, and I was right. Do you have more of it?”

You’re feeling weirdly lightheaded. You nod, and you can tell Shigaraki’s grinning just by the sound of his voice. “How much more?” he asks. “Can I see?”

That question snaps you out of whatever fog you’ve been floating in. “No,” you say, and pull away from him completely. “You weren’t even supposed to see this.”

“But you’d have been in trouble if I wasn’t here.” Shigaraki’s eyes follow you closely, not just focused on your arm this time. You can feel his gaze roving over you. If you had to guess, you’d say he’s trying to figure out where else you’re hiding fey skin. “I helped.”

He helped you, after you helped him. “We’re even, then,” you say. “Is that why you did it?”

Shigaraki’s not even subtle in how he ducks the question, and before you can press him for an answer, you hear someone or something knocking against the wall outside – a sharp, uneven rattle that startles you both. You start wrestling your arm back into your sleeve. The serous fluid will glue the fabric to the fey skin and removing it will be painful later, but you don’t have a choice. You need to get out there, and you need to beg whoever’s knocking not to tell Overhaul that they found you in the world’s smallest secret passageway with Shigaraki Tomura and your dress unbuttoned.

The knocking intensifies. You miss a button at the collar of your dress and Shigaraki’s hands knock yours aside, undoing it and buttoning it properly again. Is he trying to get you in his debt officially? You decide that’s a problem for later and open the wall again. There’s no one there but one of Overhaul’s paper cranes, battering itself to death against the wall. You grab it clumsily out of the air. Overhaul’s message is blunt and to-the-point – he wants you to assist Chrono in containing the next ritual, which starts in half an hour. Shigaraki is peering over your shoulder. “I can’t read it.”

“That’s because it’s not for you. They can only be read by the person they’re intended for,” you say. Half an hour. That’s not much time. “Look, I have to –”

Another paper crane zips past you, headed for Shigaraki. He whips his head to one side to avoid it, but he read the trajectory wrong. The wing slices into the dry skin on the side of his neck and he swears, clapping his hand over the now-bleeding paper cut. You capture the crane instead and hand it to him. His expression, already annoyed, deepens into frustration and discomfort as he reads. “What does it say?” you ask.

“What does yours say?”

“Mine says I have half an hour before I’m supposed to help with the next ritual,” you say. “What about yours?”

“My master wants me to feed while I’m here.” Shigaraki scowls. “I don’t want to feed. I’m hungry.”

He’s hungry, and he helped you, and he’s a guest – but it’s not any of those things that decides your course of action. It’s something else, something you’d go mute rather than admit to out loud. “I’ve got half an hour,” you say. There’s almost certainly something else you’re supposed to be doing with that half an hour. Overhaul can be angry with you later. “We can go get something to eat.”

Shigaraki looks surprised. “Really?”

“Sure.” You can’t figure out where that surprise is coming from. He’s been bothering you about it since before the ritual went sideways. Was he not expecting you to say yes? “And we should cover that cut on your neck.”

Shigaraki pulls his hand away from it, grimacing. “It’s not that bad. I get worse all the time.”

From scratching? “It’s still not a good idea to walk around bleeding in here. Let’s go.”

You steer clear of the infirmary and make your way instead to one of the supply caches, using your master rune to open it, and then to open an alcove where you can patch up Shigaraki’s injury in peace. Shigaraki complains as you try to clean the wound. “Why does he fold those things so sharp, anyway?”

“So people will snap to it faster,” you explain. “Most of us would rather drop what we’re doing and do what he wants than risk getting a papercut like that.”

“Your boss is an asshole.” Shigaraki tilts his head to the side at your request, then freezes. “What are you doing?”

“I just moved your hair. It was in the way.” You don’t care that he’s uncomfortable. After what happened tonight, after how much of you he saw, you feel like he deserves it. You get a fingertip full of some salve from the supply caches and start daubing it onto the cut, to the tune of a sharp hiss. “Sorry. I’m trying to be gentle.”

Shigaraki doesn’t respond to that. It’s quiet as you fish through the supply kit for a bandage, a quiet that feels awkward but not necessarily tense. Shigaraki doesn’t speak again until after you’ve placed the bandage. “Can you use one of your spells on it? Whatever you did last time,” he says. “If my master finds out –”

“It’s a glamour, not a spell,” you say. “No problem.”

A phantom itch travels along your left arm as you set the glamour, fading before you can scratch it in earnest. You store the supply kit, open another passageway that will lead directly to the kitchens, and start off, counting on Shigaraki to follow you. The awkwardness follows, too, and just like before, Shigaraki speaks first. “I get it now. Why you wouldn’t tell me what you were.”

You find yourself tucking your left arm close to your body, shielding it. Shigaraki keeps talking. “You helped me just now. I owe you a favor again. Ask.”

Earlier tonight, you’d have asked him to leave you alone. Now – “We’re even. Don’t worry about it.”

“You can’t do that,” Shigaraki says. “I know how this works. You can’t just cancel a debt because you don’t want anything from the person who owes it.”

“I’m only half-fey. I don’t know which of the rules applies to me,” you say. “You’re off the hook.”

“What if I don’t want to be off the hook?”

You can’t imagine why he’d want to be on the hook. The Fair Folk are notorious for driving cruel and twisted bargains. Whether it’s due to their morality, which doesn’t map onto human morals particularly well, or due to a desire to hurt others, everyone who’s ever found themselves in debt to a faery has been keen to get out of it as quickly as possible. Why on earth would Shigaraki want to carry around a possible debt to you?

You don’t want to ask that question. You stay quiet. “I guess I’ll have to stick around, then,” Shigaraki muses. “See about paying you back.”

You glance at him and find him smirking, or grinning. You can’t tell which. Your glamour is shimmering at the side of his neck, obvious to you but subtle enough to escape his master’s notice, and his lips, which would have cracked at a smile this wide even an hour ago, look smoother than before. You have a bad feeling about why that is – and at the same time, you aren’t as worried about it as you were before. Now that he knows what you are, interacting with him is significantly less stressful than before. It’s not something you’ll look forward to. But it’s not something you’ll dread.

“I guess you have to,” you say, and his smile brightens. Even that’s not enough to dredge up the ambivalence you felt before. “Let’s get some food.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #x reader #reader insert #skin hunger

[supernovaae]

In-universe explanation of Javid’s esper powers and the Lion’s Heart’s effects on them:

It doesn’t look like he has to say the rule out loud either,

#so he’s like star and stripe from mha #but he can place a rule on a certain area #I wish we knew the specifics of his divine powers tho #like can he enforce a rule that makes him stronger #or can these rules only effect others? #if he can make people lethargic #can he give them an energy rush too? #can he create a rule where people can’t breathe when they get too close? #can he make a rule where no one except him can use their esper powers? #I’m taking this crumb and running with it #sorry😅 #this is just really interesting to me #long post #Javid Dislyte #Dislyte

[fineghkst]

Rules

please let me know if you find any mistakes

tags: forbidden love; mentions of arranged marriage; angst; enemies to lovers

He was sitting on the armchair while reading a book. The perfect aligned hair was now messy, and he let four buttons of his shirt open, exposing his chest to the moonlight that entered the room through the window. Emanating a tranquillity that did not exist beyond those walls. It was the only moment he left all responsibilities behind.

He has so beautiful, almost looking vulnerable, but you knew all Vanserra’s were lethal like daggers. Eris was like a fallen angel right in front of your eyes.

It was rare to see Eris Vanserra without the mask of Beron’s son. During your short meetings, Eris was just a fae without titles and obligations. And so we’re you. It was all pretending, creating your own universe, like a parallel timeline where you two could stay together.

Out of that little world, he was your enemy.

You stared at him, seeing his focussed look in the book. His chest going up and down while he was breathing.

Gods, you were in love with him.

— Little Fox — Eris said almost purring that pet name he gave you, without taking his eyes from the book — I already told you to stop undressing me with your eyes while I’m distracted.

He closed the book, putting on the small desk beside. Eris gave you a penetrating look, making you blush. He got up, walking to your direction.

— You can simply undress me if you want me. — He stopped in front of you, making you look up because of the height difference.

You approached him, embracing your arms around his neck. He smiled before leaning in to kiss you. It didn’t took long for the kiss to get more desperate. Eris had his hands on your waist, squeezing it and bringing you the closer he could.

Eris showed how much he missed you, how he craved for you. How he wish that little word were expanded, turning into real life.

He left small bites on your lips before breaking the kiss, leaving both of you breathless.

— Fuck, I hate this. I hate to wait so long to be with you. I hate to pretend I fucking despise you. — Eris said, leaning his forehead on yours — It’s turning impossible. I can’t act like this with the person I love, the person I want to build a future with.

— I know, Eris — You could feel his sadness. Even if he wanted a future by his side, it was impossible when your families hated each other for centuries.

That relationship was supposed to have an expiration date. The agreement had one rule: no feelings. Just a fast experience to finally put an end at the tension between you two.

Years have passed and you still together, except it wasn’t a agreement anymore. The only rule has been broken a long time ago.

Eris was the first to admit he was in love. He wanted to runaway with you, dropping all the responsibility that was thrown on his back and freeing you from yours. He had constructed a detailed plan, you just had to say yes. If you said yes Eris would make sure both of you were never seen again.

That was the first and last time you saw him beg.

Even if it hurt, even if it broke your heart into thousands of pieces, making it impossible to rebuild it again, you denied. You denied him, breaking his heart.

How could you leave your family behind? There was to many people counting on you. After all, heir expectations were created long before you were born.

That was too much to bare, seeing him slowly destroying himself because of what was supposed to be a simple agreement. You thought it would be better to stay away from him, ending everything, so you created a new rule: staying away from Eris.

Soon you found out that a rule imposed on itself could cause the worst type of pain.

That world that only existed for you two was completely shattered. You and Eris were living now in a grey world, painted with sad eyes covered by hatred looks and apology requests suffocated by public offenses. None of you could live in a reality were you’re only enemies.

After months, both of you couldn’t take that distance anymore, so you broke the rule for him. Again.

You and Eris were condemned, condemned to a vortex of destruction. You knew that fake world was restricted by walls, and soon enough, he would be completely destroyed again. Permanently.

— Don’t marry him — He whispered, afraid if he said that worlds out loud the engagement would turn real.

— I don’t have a choice.

— Of course you do. I’m giving you a choice right now. — He caressed your face, gently — We don’t need to runaway. Just marry me.

— Eris… — You stepped back, chocked to hear that request — You know we can’t. Our families would never approve.

— I know. But we don’t need their approval if they only found out after we are married.

— Your father will never forgive you, neither my family.

— I don’t care. — He said, moving away from you. The anger had dominated his face — Your family wants to give you on a platter to a stranger because of a stupid alliance. My father, on the other hand, never thought twice before torturing me, his own son. I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. Tired of being terrorized by him.

— That’s insane. — You said — What we are supposed to do? Get married in secret and then face everyone after?

— I will fucking burn this entire world if I have to. I will destroy all of them, my Little Fox. I promise that to you. — His eyes were stuck in you, allowing you to see all the pain, all the suffering and despair he felt. Eris would really sacrifice everything, fight with the whole fucking world only to have you by his side.

— You understand that you want to risk losing everything? Including having a crown on your head, even after preparing your whole life to assume the throne? — You said and he laugh like it was the funniest joke — What’s so funny?

— Can’t you understand? No crown will be as valuable as you. I’m willing to risk everything, because if I lose you, then I'll be losing everything that matters to me. — Eris approached you again, holding your hands and looking inside your eyes — Please… just say yes. Say yes to me and I will destroy all their rules and impositions to which they restricted us. Say yes, my Little Fox, and I promise to love you until my last breath.

Your heart was beating so fast that it seemed it would fly from your chest at any moment. Eris was standing before you, begging to finally be accept. He waited years and would wait for centuries if necessary, but you couldn’t allow him to torture himself anymore.

It was probably the biggest mistake you ever committed, starting that agreement, then loving your enemy. Possibly, a deep lapse of sanity, but you couldn’t endure blindly obeying the laws imposed by your family anymore. They lived their lives, created their own wars, but now it was time for you to finally free yourself from all ties.

It was as if your lips had acquired life of its own when the three letters came out of your vocal cords to the outside word, making the walls of that little universe you made explode.

— Yes.

#eris x reader #eris acotar #eris acotar x reader #acotar x reader #eris scenario #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader

[imagines-babes]

Can’t pretend (sapnap)

Hello everyone, this one is for sapnap and it's based on a movie called Inception. It's a good movie with some familiar faces. Anyway, the movie is about being in a man having some problems with his home. One man could help him go back home if he goes into a person's dream. Honestly im not good at explaining but that's the main point somewhat. The song I used is 'Can't pretend' by Tom Odell. It's a good song. This is she / her reader and the word count is 2527 Also have any requests let me know thanks for the votes for the last one I did.

Sapnap List Masterlist

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

One day after the accident.

"I want you to go first okay I will be right behind you okay,"  the dream was changing as the person started to wake up. I tried to abject but y/n wasn't having it. " it is an order Sapnap. You go and I will be behind you.  Now Go!" I started to run to the door waking up from the dream and taking in a deep breath as I look at the others. "Where y/n?" Wilbur asked as I look to the side to her, "she told me to leave but she said she's coming." We waited the second slowly turned to minutes. We knew what this meant. Wilbur left that room as I stay still holding her hand. "She's not coming back"

8 months later

"All we have to do is follow the 5 rules." The leader turned to face us. "1. Blend in. 2. Don't forget who you are. 3.  Use something to know what reality you are in 4. Don't go too deep into a dream there will be consequences. 5. Be careful cause If you die in a dream and go deeper into another dream chances are you die in the real world" These Were all the 5 rules we knew since being in someone's dream. This time we wanted to wake up a personal friend of ours. Yn. She was like us. Till there was an accident she went too deep into a dream. It was a team mission in someone else dream something went wrong she said she was behind me so I could wake up first but. That was a lie.

We all went to a building where her body was. The people we were taking were Wilbur, Alex, Karl, Clay, George, and myself. Everyone had a role Clay is our Exactor. Wilbur is our team point man. When Clay needs a background check or to keep us in check with the task we are doing. George and I are our architects. Designing a Maze in the Dream. Alex is our Forger. He can change his physical form. Karl is our Chemist. Creating the drugs we need to fall to sleep. Y/n was our Forger and our Topman. Since the incident Clay took their spot. Everyone got one more hearing of the plan. Then it came to action. Everyone sat on a chair while Karl set it up.

Putting a needle inside every one of us than bringing y/n body over. We were ready Karl pressed his machine. Under the gas, once more breathe till slowly everyone fell asleep.

We were in a car, everyone dress nice in suits as for Alex he change his appearance to a woman. The scar stopped as we all went out going inside a building. It was a hotel with a casino and dance studio. The words on the Billboard were, "Please join us for tonight's show and poker tournament." walking into the building getting sign-in for our room. Alex and my task were to try to find y/n. This was their dream after all wouldn't be too hard to find. Going into the casino, Alex and I nod split ways. Trying to look around a waitress walked around with a plate of champagne and passed by me grabbing a glass.

Looking over at the slot machine a leg with a heel stood out. Her skin looks smooth with the color of her skin. Slowly walking up to her with the drink in my hand. Her drink was on their side. The dress that was one was a dark red shade. Maroon, I believe it is called. She looked up to notice me coming up to smile at her. "Sapnap?" All I did was nod as she came up to me holding me close. "I thought you weren't gonna show up here. Is it only you or are the others here." She pulled back with a smile, "oh the others are here upstairs honestly wanna come to say hi?" She nods, "lead the way"

This was one of y/n side's life. Her being here with the lights, drinks, and gambling. It was Her and Alex going to the spot after any mission. Or at least tried to. After y/n hasn't returned, Alex never steps into a casino. To him, it felt weird like missing a piece.

Opening the door to the room, the rest of the boys notice y/n. All in a rush jumped in to hug them. "Wow can't believe you missed me that much you boys were just here last week or so." She questions as we all laughed. "Well, what can you say a lot of things can happen in a week including missing our top man," Wilbur replied. She just nods without a question. Karl came up behind her injecting something in her neck. She slides down to the floor. "We have to hurry that won't keep her asleep for long." Everyone grabs a chair putting another needle in their arm. "I will be staying to keep a check in here being here for too long the people in her dream will start to notice so hurry." Karl glanced up turning on the gas once more. Before going out Karl went to my side of me. "Bring her back alright." All I nods was nod closing my eyes once more.

This time we were in a different area. It was familiar to us once more. It was a memory to her. On the side of a house, walking in to see the party banner and flags were in. She jumps up from a counter. "Suprise boys," she blew into a horn. We all looked at each other. "Y/n wants all this?" Clay has questions about looking at the balloons. She moved away from the counter giving us hats. "Since we are always busy with work or finding information for a job or training. With today being our day off. I decide to plan a birthday party for all of us today.," she looked around, "uh is karl coming? He usually helps me?"  I shook my head as she just shrugs. "I hope he is here soon. Well, boys let's get the party started." she press the speaker to play a song. The song was giving us nostalgia, Stargazing, they would always play it after every mission. At first, it was annoying, but slowly we all got used to this song. My heart broke a little. "Do it," I heard a whisper from George and Clay. George started to walk up to her embracing a hug. It was a long hug. Y/n felt a needle pull away from George. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" She pulled a gun and faced us. None of us spoke. "One of you answer me or I will pull the trigger."  None of us believe her till she pulls it only to face the roof. "Y/n this is a dream we have to get you back." Wilbur started to walk closer she face him. "You can't take her out of there." This y/n was crying, "she gave up on you guys. She waited every day and told me that she will come but none of you did. She's dying " Her hands started to shake. "If you go further-," she choked, "if you go into another dream there will be consequences." I started to walk up slowly, "please just let us. We accept any consequences we just need her back." This y/n shook her head. "She doesn't want to go back Sapnap she doesn't any of you. she accepts that none of you came. Y/n told me to do anything for you to not drug me." Pulling the trigger at me. With a tear coming from her right eye. It started to turn into chaos. Feeling Clay bring me to behind the counter. "I don't want to but I'm her you can't take her." The blood makes it through my clothes.

Karl was checking vitals till something red caught his eye. Going closer to the body. Touching the red moving it around his fingertips. "Blood"

Clay started to wrap my stomach as we continue to hear the sobs and shots. He started to give a plan to Alex, Wilbur, and George. Acting as if they surrender will I laid on the floor. "You are staying in this dream. You aren't coming along Sapnap. You've had enough." The words were like bullets but I wasn't going to stand down. "I am going to get y/n back either it kills me or she kills me. I need to Clay. I need to." Saying it is more demanding for him to hear. Hearing the thud on the floor with Alex on top. Y/n body faced down on the floor with the needle in her neck once more. "Now we don't have much time." The one that was staying this time was Wilbur, he volunteer himself to stay.  Cleaning my wound l. I walk to a chair. "I know we never see eye to eye after y/n been trapped here but she's like a sister please get her back." Wilbur is never the one to plead. This Wilbur was broken without y/n. All I did was nod. Falling into a sleep.

Walking up to the final Dream. I tried to stand as Alex walked over to me for help. I sigh leaning some wait on him. We walk through the building in her mind. All of them were from her past with us. Walking into the center. We notice our building. Slowly walk in. I started to couch as they watched me. "I'm fine we don't have a lot of time."

The deeper I got I started to lose myself a little. Walking slower. Taking in my breaths. My eyes were droopy. I was slowly dying. I'm not giving up till I see her.

Walking into the top floor there she sat. She watches her watch on the phone. Putting down the drink she had in a glass. Standing up slowly she took in a breath turning to face us. "Well, I'm guessing you are here for me?" She questions while Clay nods. "Yeah, we are here to bring you back to the real world." There is a laugh escaping y/n mouth. We didn't know why a laugh maybe a thank you and a hug but not a laugh. "So it took you 8 months give or take to come and rescue a friend," the silence filled the air but outside of the building the winds started to change, "but if it was anyone else you all would've done it in days or weeks. Not months." She pulled a gun out of her hand and pointed it at the window. We question where it appears, "Crazy how it appears in just a thought, right." Pulling the gun to hear a shot. The glass shatter as the wind speeds increase. 

Wilbur started to notice the bleeding getting worse from sapnap. As for karl, he tried to hold the wound and check the pulse on his arm. It started to go slower.

"Now leave and I won't tell you again." she held the gun as she face us. "But if you don't go with us you are dead." I walked up a little with a limp. She looked at me and then at my hand. "What's wrong with you?" Clay answered, "your past dream. That version in shot him if we didn't leave." Y/n face fell a little. "You should've listened to them or the rules at least the longer you are in here. There is a small chance you won't make it back alive"  "y/n please just come with us. We miss you. I miss you" Her eye started to leave a tear. "Leave. all of you. I'm not gonna ask you again" We were giving up. They went to the window. As I stood in front of her. The three turn to me, "Sapnap what are you doing let's go" I turned to back to George. "If she not going neither am i" "Sapnap let's go she's not coming" Clay started to walk up to me. "No im not. I'm not gonna take orders from anyone this is how we got to this situation anyways," The rest just nods as they jump off the window first Alex. He looked at both of us once more. Y/n was breaking I saw it slowly. Next was George, he saw y/n as a sister but this y/n he didn't know who it was. Last was Clay, he was worried about what was gonna happen to us. With just a nod he jumped.

Waking up to see Wilbur pacing. "What are you three doing here? Where y/n and sapnap?" No words were passed just looks to y/n and Sapnap bodies.

"Why didn't you go you know your dying?" y/n turned to look back at the window. "I can't leave without the person who made me appreciate life." she froze placing the gun on the table. "You are talking childish you know," looking over at her, "I'm not the old y/n any more sap. I waited but the person I needed wasn't here to help me. Help me get out of this dream." The blood on my shorts started to spread more going over to a chair. "You didn't think I tried to tell them y/n. I would ask every day when we are gonna take you out of this dream. But I listen to the orders of clay.." Taking in a breath as I close my eyes slowly. "Sapnap-," y/n went over to my side trying to wake me up, "You need to go olay and forget about me. You are dying in here." I gave a small laugh as I cough. "You and I both know even if I do there is a chance I won't make it. This job takes risks but you are here with me I would take any risk for you." She held me as my arm was put around her shoulder. "Why did you have to be so stubborn Sapnap?" She mumbles as I looked over at her. "I love you y/n"

Karl was the first to wake up. Started to look at his time on the watch. Standing in front of sapnap to check his pulse. Shortly after hearing a gasp looking over at Clay. Then George. Then Alex. To Wilbur. Finally to y/n. She looked over at us all. Then to her side to see he was there. She started to pull the needles. " we have to get sapnap to a hospital now.!" Getting up from her chair. The rest stayed in their chair not moving. "What are you about guys doing let's go!" Karl stood from his chair he just hug her. She look over to sapnap as he didn't wake up but the wound got to him. All in her head replay were the last words he said.

#x y/n #fanfic #twitchstreamer #mcyt x y/n #feral boys #dreamsmp #sapnap x you #sapnap x y/n #sapnap x reader #sapnap #dreamwastaken #wilbur soot #quackity #karl jacobs #georgenotfound #mcyt fanfiction #inception au

[thaeonblade]

Logics Insight: The Star Wars Prequel Trilogy 2/2

https://www.deviantart.com/thaeonblade/art/Logics-Insight-The-Star-Wars-Prequel-Trilogy-2-2-919810236 Part 2

The Importance of Darth Vader and the Characterization of Anakin Skywalker

I agree with Redlettermedia when he says that Anakin's characterization was the biggest misstep in the Prequel Trilogy. Instead of having a profound and nuanced exploration of how and why Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader, we instead got a cluttered mess. This is because Anakin's importance in the Star Wars mythos was way overemphasized in a way that not only doesn't work, but actually causes more problems for the world-building of the Prequels.

I'm not necessarily talking about Anakin killing younglings or murdering Tusken Raiders. Those incidents don't help, but they'd actually be good for Anakin's fall into darkness if everything else worked properly. Considering that Anakin is the tragic hero of the Prequel Trilogy, it make sense that he'll eventually get his hands bloody on his path to the dark side.

The problem is that George Lucas spent too much time focusing on Anakin's importance rather than letting him breath and develop as a character. George spent too much time trying to tell people how powerful Anakin is or to show off how special Anakin is rather than putting Anakin on a journey. A journey where Anakin reaches great heights before he falls down into a great fall right into villainy and evil.

So to accomplish this ill-conceived goal, George apparently messed up a lot of aspects about the Jedi and the Force to make Anakin this all important character. And George did all of this merely because Darth Vader is the most popular character in all of Star Wars and so Lucas let Vader's reputation outside of the story affect his role in the story.

So here's my thesis, I believe that George developed the no romance rule for the Jedi to force a forbidden love story onto Anakin and Padme's relationship. I also believe that the concept of midi-chlorians and the prophecy about a chosen one were specifically created and set up to make Anakin seem like the most powerful jedi ever. But instead of adding to Anakin's story, these things merely take away from them. George overlooked the idea that sometimes less is more and convoluted something that could've stayed simple and yet very effective and dramatic.

In fact, I'd dare say that removing these three aspects from the movies wouldn't change much at all other than streamline and make the world-building more consistent with itself.

Allow me a moment to break things down, shall we?

Midi-chlorians and Prophecies

"Que guitar riff"

This is Science Fantasy and generally, that means that we have a Sci-fi universe with a strong science fiction aesthetic. But remember, this is still primarily a fantasy story with the sci fi stuff being secondary in all honesty. That means that certain details don't need to be meticulously explained unless its absolutely necessary for the story and characters.

For instance, we don't know what Yoda's species and we don't need to know.

Does it make sense that Wookies can't speak english and others can't speak wookie, but Han and Chewbacca can understand each other completely? No, but who cares.

Why do star ships need to be so close to each for fleet battles? Who cares.

Why aren't people using drone fighters instead of piloted snub fighters? Doesn't matter.

Do the physics of the lightsaber make sense? Not really, but it doesn't matter.

Most fantasy fans don't question how heroes can jump into battle after battle without suffering major fatigue and exhaustion nor how they brush off realistically career ending injuries. Even the most pedantic nerd will just shrug and go with something that doesn't make sense to them if its in keeping with a good story.

A lot of battles in fantasy and sci-fi are made by people who are lacking in terms of a worthwhile sense of scale. Logistical reality should make some of the huge army numbers that we see utterly impossible to support for long periods of time. In reality, it would be a logistical nightmare to feed and supply ten thousand medieval soldiers for more than a few months. So good luck trying to support a hundred thousand soldiers.

We also often seen a lot of battles where participants use tactics that don't make sense. Lines of soldiers charging headlong into battle and clashing together into competing lethal mosh pits just didn't happen. Trained armies of all eras preferred to keep their formations and attack with the best weapons that suited their particular battle lines and strategies. In fact, the spear and bow were the most common and practical weapons to use in medieval and ancient warfare because they were cheap to make or get and it was useful in groups or individually. The sword was either a secondary weapon or a ceremonial weapon and those were only drawn when the primary weapon was set aside or lost.

But swords are just cooler so naturally we see characters using swords as main weapons in fantasy or even sci fi.

I bring all of this pedantic and nitpicky stuff up to make a point on details in your world-building. Details definitely matter, but you as the writer must consider and assess which details are most important for the story you are trying to tell. The story needs to engage your reader on an emotional level and any detail that doesn't help do that must be trimmed or set aside.

If your detail on how money works or what the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow is doesn't matter on a character, story, thematic or plot level, then it's not a detail worth dwelling on. In fact, it's fine to let certain aspects of your world-building remain ambiguous and unanswered to create mystery and intrigue in your audience.

And this is why the concept of midichlorians is something that creates more problems than it solves.

It was an over-explanation for a question that no one wanted to have answer nor was it a question that needed to be answered.

So with that said, why oh why did George feel like he had to explain the Force with midichlorians?

In fact, George's original concept for the Force was that it was an energy field that technically anyone could tap into. Yes! Anyone could be force sensitive with the right discipline, mindset, dedication and spirituality. To paraphrase George himself when answering an interviewer who asked if the Force was available to anyone who could hook into it?

“Yes, anybody could do it. Not just the Jedi. It's just the Jedi who take the time to do it. They use it like a technique. If you want to take the time to do it, you can do it. But the ones what really want to do it are the ones who are into that kind of thing. Also like karate.”

In all fairness, that interview as many decades ago and it's fine if George changed his mind and decided that force sensitivity is a bit more different.

The concept does nothing, but muddle what was otherwise a mystical, but simplistic understanding of the Force as being a spiritual energy field that binds the galaxy together. Midichlorians undermine the mystery and wonder of the Force by adding an unnecessary and even contradictory scientific element when no one asked for it. It also infers an upward limit on someone's Force power even though the Force is meant to be beyond such things.

"Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter."

Granted, the Original Trilogy did introduce a biological element to the Force by saying that the Force flows strongly through bloodlines and that Force Sensitivity can be passed down through offspring. Which makes sense when the Force penetrates basically everything in life and surrounds and connects life. However, nothing more needed to be elaborated on than that.

Now let's talk about the other issue...namely the Chosen One Prophecy.

“Que guitar riff”

As for the Chosen One thing, it's both under-explained, contradictory and unnecessary. Just have Anakin be a really talented and gifted youngster who got recruited because his potential in the force is amazingly high for reasons that are NEVER stated. Is it destiny? Genetics? Is he a lost descendant from a family of strong jedi lords? Who knows? What matters is Anakin developing that talent, becoming a great jedi knight and being seduced to the Dark Side to become Darth Vader.

I don't personally have a problem with prophecies or Chosen Ones. These are story ideas that are very old and they've been done in various ways both good and bad. Sometimes prophecy is used in a way to where the story centers on a character trying to avoid destiny, but meeting destiny on the road they took to avoid it. Often times, you'll have characters trying to defy fate and while some may succeed, others end up fulfilling their own doom.

Prophecy, Chosen Ones and Destiny are story ideas that have potential to be very good or very bad. Just like in real history, prophecies were often misread, misinterpreted, flat out wrong, or turned out to be correct earlier or later than people anticipated. There are many cultures with some tradition about seers and oracles who can perceive the future and use their visions to give warnings in the present. I bring this up so you know where I'm coming from on the Jedi Prophecy about Balance.

Largely that it's too vague to be worthwhile in the story.

First off, the prophecy is never actually explained in any detail beyond that it exists and Anakin is supposedly meant to bring balance to the force. What does bringing balance to the Force mean in the prophecy's context? What is causing the unbalance in the Force? How will Anakin bring balance to the Force exactly? What will happen once the Force's balance is restored? Why is it a bad thing if the Force is out of balance? What does balance look like? Is balance achieved when the Light and Dark sides of the Force are in total balance? Or does the Light need to be dominant over the Dark to create balance?

According to George Lucas, the presence of the Sith and their actions are creating a cancerous blight within the Force. This blight causes the dark side to get stronger and snuff out the light. Therefore, Anakin fulfilled the prophecy when he destroyed the Sith when he killed Palpatine and then died right afterwards. Thus the Sith were destroyed, the darkness that they created weakens and the light is able to grow in strength thus creating balance and harmony in the Force.

However, it was not until Episode 3 that we learn any hint about what bringing balance meant. We're told that Anakin must destroy the Sith and that's how he'll bring balance. That's in line with what George said, but how is it that Anakin is the only one who can destroy the Sith? Does it matter if someone else like Obi Wan, Yoda or Mace Windu killed Sidious? If killing the Sith is what Anakin is meant to do then why was it a bad thing and a step to the dark side when he killed Count Dooku? Even if Palpatine was manipulating Anakin, he's still doing exactly what the prophecy said he needs to do. So how is that a bad thing?

This is why the movie needs to clarify and explain the Chosen One Prophecy if its going to be important to Anakin's development or significance. It would be nice if the movies spent a few minutes explaining where the prophecy came from and why the Jedi think it's worth preserving. Was there a previous Jedi Grandmaster who was a seer or something? Maybe they were a wise teacher whose prophecies were always right one way or another and the Chosen One Prophecy was the last prediction that they made before they died, retired or disappeared.

Maybe the Jedi Seer was around when the Last Sith Empire was destroyed and all of the other Jedi thought that the Sith were dead. This lone seer insisted that the sith had survived and foresaw that the sith survivors were in the shadows hiding and getting more powerful. Then in the future, the Sith would return for their Revenge and only the Chosen One could defeat them and restore balance to the Force. This could also be how Yoda knows about the Rule of Two because the Seer foresaw that the Rule of Two was how the Sith were surviving and hiding and would've warned a young Yoda about it.

With respect to George, I don't think he thought that far ahead.

It's just all the more bluntly obvious that midichlorians and the Prophecy were only introduced to over-hype Anakin.

Think about it? We first learn that Anakin didn't have a father and Shmi was knocked up by the Force. Then we first hear about midichlorians when Qui-Gon takes Anakin's blood sample and we learn that Anakin's midichlorian count is higher than even Master Yoda. At Coruscant, Qui-Gon gives his findings to the council and this also introduces the first mention of the Prophecy about a Chosen One who will bring balance to the Force and that Anakin is that Chosen One. Before leaving for Naboo, Anakin asks about midichlorians and Qui-Gon explains that they are the middle-men between life and the Force and without them, no one could hear the Force.

I can't lay it out more plainly than I just did.

George claims that he had the concept back in the Original Trilogy, but just couldn't introduce it. However, the sequence of events where midi-chlorians play a role in the story strongly implies that their only role is to explain why Anakin is so powerful and to prop up his role as the Chosen One. So this is a clear case of informed ability where we are told that someone is incredible for such-and-such reason, but never actually demonstrates it.

For instance, Anakin is shown to be a strong Jedi, but it's not clear that he's more powerful than any other Jedi. Does he use any force abilities that are either rare or difficult for even older and wiser jedi to use? Does he demonstrate an insight and wisdom in the Force beyond his years? Did he finish his training faster than any other padawan? Looks like 10 years is the rough average and Anakin's training doesn't seem too different apart from his unorthodox age.

In George's haste to make Anakin special, he's created a hard-locked cap on how powerful any jedi could ever become based on their midichlorian level. No matter how enlightened, serene, wise or experienced that a jedi becomes, their power will never go higher than a pre-set ceiling while someone with only half as much training and given effort could become twice as powerful due to having a bigger midichlorian count.

And I don't care if the EU clarifies that a high midichlorian count does not always equal high force power.

It's Not In The Movie.

We need the movies to show us how Anakin is powerful and not just tell us that he's powerful. Instead of having all of his training take place off screen, have some key moments shown in Episode I and II. First, Qui Gon teaches Anakin some rudimentary universal lessons on accessing the force and Anakin later uses these lessons to help save Naboo. In the next movie, Obi Wan is shown guiding Anakin through a more advanced lesson or he and Anakin spar where we see that Anakin is very skilled and powerful, but immature and impatient. We are shown how strong Anakin has become and we also see how he has much that he still has to learn.

Or perhaps Anakin learns about a strong jedi technique that usually takes a long time to master and Anakin does so in record time. Perhaps Anakin uses the ionize technique or disable droid technique in a powerful way. Perhaps Anakin is shown to be talented with telekinetically lifting and manipulating things with expert accuracy and control. Maybe Anakin has a very strong innate connection to the force's energy flow that is unusual to someone as young as Anakin.

Now I'm not expecting something over the top like Anakin pulling down a Star Destroyer and making it look easy. But I'd say that Anakin's progression as a Jedi and his power in the Force was something that would be stronger conveyed with visual storytelling rather than making up new rules to give him an informed ability that doesn't match what's shown on the story.

Perhaps you could keep the prophecy in the movie and make it a question of whether Anakin is the chosen one or not. Anakin's quick success and rise in prominence would make his fellow jedi believe that he's really the chosen one despite their initial misgivings. Then when he turns to the dark side, it's a true shock to the jedi and perhaps shocking for the audience for may have forgoten that Anakin is going to be Darth Vader.

Maybe the Jedi were wrong about Anakin being the chosen one and the chosen one is actually Anakin's son Luke. Something which Obi Wan wouldn't realize until much later and this makes Luke all the more the new hope for the Jedi. Maybe Anakin is the chosen one, but bringing balance to the force means destroying the jedi and the sith so that his son luke can rebuild a new order of guardians from the ashes.

Maybe the Chosen One thing could be something that's left ambiguous and left to the audience to the decide for themselves. Meh, who knows?

George went too far in a few places

Anakin starts out too Young and dipped into the dark side too drastically and too soon in his character arc. I'd translate this issue as being how Anakin's story has great payoff with a mostly good set up, but the build up and few set up details are wonky.

For Anakin, we got a lot about his flaws, his darkness and the seeds that would lead to the dark side. But ultimately, the prequels lacked a demonstration of his more positive aspects apart from being a good pilot and warrior. Old Ben described Anakin as a good and noble jedi champion who was a great friend and whose turn to the dark side was a tragedy and a shocking surprise. Yet, the prequels display Anakin as a bad seed from Episode 2 onwards and they fail to make him likable, especially in 2 where he spends most of his screentime whining, complaining, expressing support for a fascist dictatorship as long as "it worked", obsessing over a girl he hasn't seen in ten years and mass murdering an entire tribe of raiders including women and children and going on a maniacal rant about it like a serial killer. Yeah, I understand that he was mad and grieving about his mother dying in his arms, but that doesn't excuse slaughtering innocents nor is it helped by how utterly unsympathetic and borderline sociopathic he seemed in previous scenes.

By Episode 3 where we finally do see some humanity and likability in Anakin, it's too little too late and fleeting compared to how he spends half of the movie as Darth Vader betraying his fellow jedi and slaughtering children (again) because of a vague promise that Palpatine would give him the power to save Padme. Furthermore, the "tragic hero" of the story chokes out his pregnant mother and yet we're supposed to leave that movie with the idea that there's still a sliver of good in this man. Or at least enough good in him to where he'll eventually sacrifice himself to save his son by killing the Emperor and then dying as himself.

I assert this missed opportunity as a demonstration of how "Darker isn't always better".

Nothing against Jake Lloyd, but Anakin should've started off as a young teen to make characterization and development between the three movies more consistent. It would also allow for the actor playing Anakin to play the role in all three movies instead of just 2 and give more time for them to get acclimated and comfortable with the role. That's one big reason why Ewan McGregor got better and better as Obi-Wan, because he got used to the role over the course of 3 movies whereas Hayden only had two. Hayden did a decent job with what he had, but being able to play the role in a third movie would've improved things immensely.

If you think it would be ridiculous to have Hayden Christenson or whoever play a teenager when they're an adult, I'd point out that adults have been playing teens since the Slasher films. Keep in mind Natatlie Portman has portrayed teenagers as well such as she does in Episode I and has the youthful appearance and short stature to pull it off. Combine that with some make up, de-aging CGI, clothing that a teen would wear and some uncertain posturing and mannerisms and I can see a young male actor being passed off as a teenager.

I'd also make Anakin a little less perfect and spotless as he was in Episode 1. I'd still have Anakin be an overall good talent person who wants to help people and do the right thing. But also give him an edge as he's forced to bottle up fear, anger and hatred at his life as a slave and how he and his mother could be sold or killed at the push of a button. Maybe this could come out in a scene or two where he subconsciously uses the force to hurt or nearly kill someone like Sebulba or Watto. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan would see this and that would motivate them to take Anakin in. Deciding that Anakin would fall to the Dark Side and become a Dark Jedi if he stayed on Tatooine and instead should be raised by the Jedi to use his powers for good.

In fact, let's have a scene that underlines how harsh slavery is for Anakin while growing up. It always annoys me when slavery is put into a story and its shown to be a minor nuisance at best. In the Phantom Menace, Anakin's life as a slave is treated as a part time job. He gets to wander around town without supervision; make friends and play with other friends; he and his mom have their own home and its no better or worse than anyone else's home; and Anakin even has enough room in the garage to build and work on his own podracer.

I'm not saying get rid of that stuff since historically some slaves did have some small luxuries depending on their masters and their positions. But the audience is only told of how bad slavery is and are only told about the bomb that will kill escapees. Instead, throw in a scene where Anakin gets really angry and is about to throw a punch, but Watto holds up a remote threatening to blow him or his mother. Maybe a slave at an auction is sold to a lecherous asshole and she runs away as the new owner blows her up. Anakin sees this and would seethe with anger about how powerless he is and how much he wants to be free and to make his slave master pay for how they treat him and his mom.

Instead of having Anakin be rejected initially for being “too old”, he's rejected by the Jedi Council because of the fear, anger and hate simmering inside of him. The Jedi are wary that Anakin's a ticking time bomb that'll explode if trained with power that he can't handle. Qui-Gon would vouch for Anakin with full faith in the boy while Obi-Wan would be neutral, wanting to help Anakin and seeing the good in him while also acknowledging the council's concern and fear of the dark edge hiding inside of the kind hearted Anakin.

This is the dark edge that Palpatine would sense and quietly nurture in Anakin as he grows in the ways of the Jedi and the Force. Anakin in the films should've been close to what he was in the Clone Wars tv show, a genuinely heroic, noble, brave, loyal and good man with a dark shadow that kept growing as the war continued. As Anakin starts to doubt if the Jedi or the Republic are helping anyone, Palpatine could be there to groom him towards the idea that a Master of the Dark Side could bring order and peace to the galaxy. That the Dark Side could give Anakin true freedom from the forces controlling his life and hindering him from making a difference.

Which, to be fair, is what we kind of got in the films. The films do hint that Palpatine had been grooming Anakin for dark side conversion throughout the years and Episode 3 was the finishing touch. But the idea is screwed when Palpatine gives Anakin a super vague legend about a Sith Lord who could use the Dark Side to save people from death. And this is enough for Anakin to throw every everything he's ever stood for and fully commit to the Dark Side. By now, Anakin should've seen some proof that the Dark Side could actually do that. Maybe Palpatine could heal a grievously injured clonetrooper in the medbay to convince Anakin of the dark side's power, but right after Anakin leaves, the trooper dies because he wasn't actually healed.

Instead, Anakin betrayed the jedi based on a vague story about a sith who could save people from death? And despite no proof that Palpatine wasn't just lying and playing on Anakin's fears, Anakin bows to monster mash and pledges himself to the graveyard smash. Then goes on to murder children based on an unspecific notion that the dark side will help him save Padme.

Anakin's especially dumb when you realize that he knows Palpatine is the Sith Lord whose been lying and manipulating everyone for the past 13 years. The one behind the Naboo Crisis; The Clone Wars; Qui-Gon's death; the attempts on Padme's life; the loss of Anakin's arm; and is responsible for the deaths of countless billions if not trillions of people because of that. And Anakin follows him anyway? Also, why doesn't Anakin just arrange for a really good doctor to look after Padme and make sure she doesn't die in childbirth? Are you telling me that death by childbirth is still a thing in this magnificent technological wonderland?

Now lets take a few steps back here.

I will acknowledge that having Anakin murder the jedi younglings was bleak and dark, but a bold creative choice. As much as I would've preferred to see Anakin mowing down Jedi knights and masters in some badass dramatic fight scene, showing him preparing to murder younglings was the kind of scene that can make or break a character like Anakin.

George Lucas isn't sugarcoating how evil Anakin is or how far he's fallen. He doesn't want the audience to have anything that will take away from the shock of this scene. If Anakin killed older jedi adults, this would be mitigated by how “badass” and “awesome” Darth Vader is acting. But George doesn't want an evil sith lord to look cool, at least not in this moment. He wants you to see the raw deal of how cruel the dark side will make you.

The problem is that we already got this once before in Attack of the Clones with the Tusken Raider massacre. There isn't a smooth transition from innocent kind hearted youth into the cold, ruthless and evil murder machine that is Darth Vader. He's innocent and pure in Episode I and then abruptly becomes troubled and murderous in II and III. If you want Anakin's deeds in Episode III to be shocking and horrific, then he can't do something like this in Episode II while he's still meant to be a good guy.

While I'd keep the Tusken Raider murder scene and the death of Anakin's mother, I'd rework them slightly. I'd make it so that Anakin's mom isn't tortured to death and was being kept as a hostage for ransom. Anakin saves her, kills a few tusken guards and successfully rides away with her. He takes his mom back to the Lars homestead where Anakin has a wholesome moment with Padme and Shmi. Everything seems happy, Anakin is bonding with his step brother and step father while Shmi gives her blessing for Padme to pursue Anakin and help him be happy.

Then tragedy strikes as a Tusken Raider war party attacks the homestead.

Cligg Lars dies from a thermal detonator, Shmi gets wounded by gunmen and dies in a shocked Anakin's arms. The world goes cold around him and he sees the tuskens holding Owen, Beru and Padme prisoner. They single out Padme and tie her up to be beaten to death as she's an outsider from Tatooine. Anakin's blood boils, the anger, grief and pain overflows and he uses the force and his lightsaber to slaughter the Tusken warriors.

The tuskens try to run away, but Anakin in a great show of force power holds their speeders in place and rips the raiders from their bikes. Anakin then hunts them all down, hunting and slaughtering every single tusken raider like animals. As he's hacking into a dead tusken, Padme hugs him from behind and tells him to stop since it won't change anything.

Seeing his stepbrother act so viciously, Owen Lars cuts ties with Anakin and irrationally blames him for both his father's death and for Shmi's death. Anakin believes him, thinking that he wasn't strong enough to control the situation or keep his loved ones from dying. He wasn't strong enough until he gave into the dark side.

Padme neither condemns nor condones Anakin's actions due to the situation and her own feelings. Obi Wan would be sympathetic, but would throw the jedi code at Anakin while also neglecting to report the situation to the council. Palpatine of course would offer assurance and tell him that he did nothing wrong. Here Anakin would confess to what it felt to use the dark side and that a part of him enjoyed what he did. Palpatine then tells Anakin that he may need to call upon that anger again one day and not to reject it, one day he may need his hate to make him strong regardless of what the jedi say.

This would plant into Anakin the idea that being good and staying on the light side won't save his loved ones. But being dark sided could give him that power, something that Palpatine waters over the course of the clone wars until Episode III. It would be small transforming moment where good guy Anakin starts to slip towards the dark side which would snowball into his actions in Episode III.

Instead, Anakin slaughters every tusken in the camp and goes on a maniacal rant about it looking like a crazy person. I'd forgive you if you thought that Anakin had already turned to the dark side here. Becoming a sith lord, taking the name Darth Vader and killing the jedi was just a formality. Of course, I know Anakin only killed the tuskens because they kidnapped and tortured his mother to death, but that doesn't change how its too soon in Anakin's story to do something this dark and bleak.

By tempering down the tusken raider event, it still has the same broad strokes and effect as in canon. However, there would still be room to show that this was Anakin being driven to a wall and was not an action that good guy Anakin would normally do. Combine this with earlier scenes of Anakin being a kind hearted, selfless young man trying to do good and strive for the right thing and this would help make Anakin's eventual fall to the dark side sad and shocking.

For a character like Anakin, his fall to the dark side should come as a shock and surprise to the audience. They should look at Anakin in Episode I and II and be unable to comprehend how this good hearted kid could ever fall to the dark side. They should want him to overcome whatever inner darkness is simmering in him and be given hope that Anakin will prevail. They should wail with frustration and sorrow when Anakin succumbs to his inner darkness and becomes Darth Vader.

In short, Anakin needed to be more of a hero to make the tragedy part stronger.

The Romance

The romance arc between Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala was entertainingly bad at worst and dull at best.

At this point in my life, I can say it's far from the worst love story I've ever seen. Everyone's gone into its problems and I won't add too much here. I do appreciate the love story for following through on its tragic set up and build up. There was no way that love would prevail here with Anakin being fated to become Darth Vader.

I guess for me, I was never really sold on them being in love apart from the story telling us that they're in love. Anakin and Padme meet when he's a kid and she's a teen. He's neither old enough to be interested in girls nor is he old enough to be considered a viable romantic partner by Padme. They were just really good friends who bonded over a crisis and then he helped free her planet.

Then they never see or talk to each other for ten years. They're brought back together where Anakin starts talking about how he's obsessed and thought about her everyday. It then turns out that Padme has felt the same and they decided to be in love. Let me get this straight, they spend a few days together, kiss twice and decide to get married.

Now some defenders chalk up Anakin's awkward actions, stares and corny lines to being inexperienced with love. Which I can definitely identify with and many of us can do the same when we feel strongly for someone, but don't know how to express it. Perhaps if the dialogue wasn't made to be efficient filler in between the action scenes, I could get behind this defense.

Still, there's a difference between being inexperienced and being in love with someone you haven't seen for ten years...when you were a child. That's obsession. Anakin was in love with a shadow and a thought. Did Anakin really know Padme Amidala? Can you be in love with someone who you don't truly know? Was Anakin in love with Padme or just the idea of being in love with someone? A smarter story would explore this distinction, but not this one.

Still a bigger problem was that Lucas introduced the whole concept of "Celibate Jedi" for the sake of giving the romance a "forbidden edge". Except that this was never brought up in Episode 1 or the Previous trilogy and neither Old Ben nor Yoda had any qualms about training the child of a jedi. It could be because of desperation, but it can be heavily inferred that the celibate jedi concept didn't exist until Episode 2 and this along with other problems with the Jedi Order that I discussed in a previous essay don't do the romance any favors.

In fact, introducing this element and the age restriction thing makes the Jedi look like some kind of closed off cult. Once you're in the Order, you can't have any relationships outside of the order which means you're cut off from your family and culture. Your identity is now molded into whatever your instructors tell you to become without any choice on your part. Your life is laid out before you by a strict code and it was a life that the typical jedi youngling must take on without any choice.

I know that some will say that a Jedi can leave anytime like Count Dooku did. However, Dooku was the exception rather than the norm due to his unique personality and perspective. It also helps that he was the heir to a noble house ruling a whole planet, so he has a life to go to when he leaves. The average jedi would have nothing if they left, no friends, no family, no money or shelter, and it's not guaranteed that the jedi will give them vital skills with which they can gain meaningful employment.

Not to mention with all of the indoctrination that the jedi kids had to go through, few of them would ever think of leaving. They've been brainwashed into uncritically accepting the jedi way of life to where the option to leave the order would be unthinkable. Even Ahsoka only left the order because of extreme and unique circumstances and before then, she was happy and eager to be a jedi.

Anakin's only able to resist indoctrination because he already had an identity before he joined the Order. An identity and personality that he maintains despite all efforts to prune them out of him. But Anakin's desire for meaningful and loving relationships is viewed as a bad thing by the jedi and so he has to hide his love for Padme. If anything, this set up makes it seem like the Jedi pushed Anakin to the dark side through trying to isolate him from his own humanity like they did the other jedi. It's not what George intended, but good luck inferring this from the movie.

Furthermore, why would Padme be resistant to a relationship? There's never been any law that restricted senators from marrying or having relationships, hell the ancient roman senators were the biggest hedonists in town. Greek city state senators, warlords, kings and so on of many levels of power all had sex slaves, lovers and concubines for their pleasure and to make as many kids as possible.

If we're going with the whole "celebate jedi angle" (which is inherently flawed in the context of star wars and I'm glad that Lucas EU Luke eventually threw out that rule), then what's wrong with having Padme be the "temptress" and the metaphorical Eve for Anakin? Anakin has feelings, but he doesn't want to act on them out of duty while Padme encourages him that he can still have a heart and still be a good jedi. Padme sees that Anakin is unhappy and lonely and so she wants to help him by loving him and showing him that he's not alone or unloved.

While well-intentioned and wholesome on her part, this does unintentionally open a floodgate in Anakin which eventually causes him to lose control of his emotions and do something cruel like kill a helpless enemy like Asajj Ventress and it makes him doubt himself. Padme is there to help him and tells him that he's not a bad person and that he's just human. But Anakin gets the wrong message and decides that using the dark side isn't bad and only after it's too late does Padme sadly realize that she unknowingly pushed Anakin towards the dark side.

We should've seen something more organic like in the original trilogy. Or, have a slightly older Anakin and Padme hit it off really well with strong romantic chemistry between them in Episode I. But due to important matters like the Naboo crisis and Anakin joining the jedi, they can't do anything at the moment. But they'd definitely have each other's affection and respect by the movie's end which would grow into a full on romance in Episode II and turn to tragedy in Episode III.

In fact, I'd have Padme gamble her freedom in the podrace so that Shmi Skywalker is saved. Qui Gon would tell her that he could only free Anakin and Padme decides to fix that. Padme sees how much Anakin loves his mother and how it would destroy him to leave her in bondage while he is freed. So Padme goes to Watto and gambles her own freedom against Shmi's freedom if Anakin wins the podrace.

This would be a moment that shows Padme's compassion for others and when Anakin eventually finds out, he'd be deeply grateful to Padme since risking her freedom liberated his mother. Maybe Padme would even offer Shmi a job as a handmaiden for the queen or when Shmi chooses to stay of her own free will, Padme gives her some valuables that she could sell to get enough money to get her own moisture farm and start a new life.

It's a small change and doesn't change the overall plot really. But it would be something that jumpstarts Anakin's affection and love for Padme. He'd see that Padme respects him as a human being rather than just as a slave or as a tool. He would be loyal to Padme and would want to return the favor which would motivate him to go to the Battle of Naboo and do what he could to help free Padme's people just like she and Qui gon freed him and his mother.

Another misstep was cutting the Rebel Alliance subplot for Padme Amidala.

In short, this was a series of scenes for Revenge of the Sith where Padme is discussing the current political state of the Republic with Mon Mothma, Bail Organa and other senators. They and other critics of Palpatine are concerned about him holding executive powers indefinitely and start considering contingencies. These contingencies would eventually lead to the Rebel Alliance's creation in the Original Trilogy.

But George Lucas cut out this subplot because he thought it would detract from Anakin's storyline. Which is directly contradicted with how Palpatine is using Padme's objection to Palpatine's executive powers to make a rift between Padme and Anakin. Which in turn would start to make Anakin consider the idea that Padme will betray him to Obi-Wan. This would also tragically culminate in Anakin choking Padme believing that she brought Kenobi to him on Mustafar to kill him.

Another reason cutting subplot was a mistake is that Padme basically has nothing to do in Revenge of the Sith. Yeah, she can't exactly run around and be a badass gun fighter while pregnant with twins. But it's not exactly great to see Padme sitting on the sidelines crying about Anakin compared to her actions in the first two movies.

Having Padme play a role in the pre planning of the Rebel Alliance heightens Padme's importance to the Star Wars saga. It's the organization that will fight and destroy the Empire where the Jedi failed. It's the Rebellion which her children Leia and Luke would lead to ultimate victory over the Empire. In the novel, Padme gave Organa, Mon Mothma and the other allies key advice about hiding out and not openly defying Palpatine's new empire until the time was right.

In a tragic sense, Padme Amidala has to watch the Republic that she helped create turn into an Empire. But she would be morally vindicated by the Alliance she helped make and by her twins as they destroy the Empire. Then Luke would go on to rebuild the Jedi Order which her husband had been apart of. Her daughter would help rebuild a New Republic to continue the good that the Old Republic had made.

Also, this could be a rift for Padme and Anakin that tests their relationship. Both Anakin and Padme are loyal to the Republic in their own way. Both have their criticisms of the Republic and different ideas on how to make things right. Padme wants to correct the system from within by pruning out bad or corrupt aspects and upholding good and lawful ones. Anakin wants to make things right by throwing out the system and replacing it with one based on control and power.

Then as the story progresses, both realize for different reasons that the current state of the Republic is too inflexible for change. So they would clash about how where they think the Republic should go. Anakin would be more in favor of a stronger executive branch akin to dictatorship like Palpatine is doing. Meanwhile, Padme would start to sympathize with the non-evil and non-corporate elements of the Separatists and believe that the Republic needs to kick out Palpatine or abolish the Republic and any galactic government entirely since it's doing more harm than good.

We kind of get this in the films, but not really. In Episode II, Anakin and Padme do discuss the senate and Anakin reveals that he supports a fascist dictatorship. However, that scene is written off in a way that it looks like Anakin's joking around with Padme. In Episode III, Padme probes Anakin and wonders if the Republic has indeed fallen. Anakin accuses her of being a senator, but Padme stands her ground and insists that the Clone Wars was a result of the Republic's failure to communicate and listen.

In fact, I think Anakin and Padme's relationship would improve if Anakin played devil's advocate about her opposition to a Republic military. He'd point out how Naboo was invaded because it didn't have an army and was only saved by allying with the Gungan army. So it's only prudent to have an army and not need it than to need one and not have it.

Padme would counter with how creating a military would signal escalation and would make peace with the Separatists more difficult. Also, a military would be able to wield undue power and influence over the system to where they could intimidate the senate into doing what they wanted. The military could also be used to make the chancellor a dictator and what the military would do after any war would be a great concern.

Anakin may point out that the Jedi had an army against the Sith and disbanded it when the wars were over. So Anakin would say that the new military would do the same and remain inactive unless nedded. Padme would acknowledge this and point out that few people in the galaxy are as noble and selfless as the jedi. Being in command of an army is a lot of power and few people will readily give up power, even for the good of others.

I guess I'm bringing this in because it would be an opportunity for Anakin and Padme to get to know each other through discussing something that they both care about. They would initially bond over their mutual love of the Republic and splinter over what they believe and how they'd react to the Republic's fall and transformation into an Empire.

Then when talk about a new Empire appears, Anakin would embrace it since an empire would get things done. Padme would strongly disagree and start fermenting ideas and talks that would lead to the Rebellion in the Old Trilogy. Anakin may discover this and would be conflicted between his love for Padme and his loyalty to Palpatine. Tragically, he'd pick Palpatine since he believes that serving the dark side would be for everyone's greater good. But all that would do is drive Padme away from him and the rest would be history.

And yes, we did kind of get this in the Third Movie considering their tragic end, but not as well as it could have been. Keeping the Rebel Alliance subplot would've been a step in the right direction for Padme's character and for her relationship with Anakin. Once more, we get the tragedy element in droves, but we don't quite get the romantic aspect of this tragic romance.

After all, tragic romances always have happy endings.

Temptation and Tragedy

I will acknowledge that I like the element of temptation present with Anakin' story.

I do enjoy how Anakin's ambition, desire to be a powerful hero and need to protect his loved ones are twisted and inverted against him. A few execution issues aside, Anakin's tragedy was a great element of the Prequel story and was one of the reasons why Revenge of the Sith was so great. It's almost Shakespearean in a sense when you think about it.

In the Original Trilogy, Luke Skywalker wasn't really tempted to the dark side at all. Note that I'm not pointing this out as a flaw or criticism of the Original Trilogy. I'm just bringing this up as a point of comparison between the stories of Luke and Anakin. While Anakin was actually seduced, tempted and tricked into turning to the dark side, this element of temptation was absent in Luke's story.

If anything, Vader and Palpatine were just trying to threaten and bully Luke to the dark side. They threatened his life and his friends if he didn't convert; they tried to tell him about how powerful the dark side would make Luke if he submitted; and they each offered Luke a chance to rule the Empire and the Galaxy at their side.

But Luke wasn't afraid to die, so threatening him with submission or death was always going to fail. Even at his lowest point in Bespin, Luke would've rather died than join Darth Vader. Luke partook in the Death Star run when it was basically a suicide mission. He fought on the front lines of the Galactic Civil War as leader of Rogue Squadron. He even calmly went to the confrontation with the Emperor accepting the idea that he'd die when the Rebels destroyed the second Death Star.

While Luke did care about his friends, Luke learned from his impulsiveness on Bespin. He learned to have faith in the abilities and capabilities of Han, Leia and the others. So he just had to hold faith in his friends to overcome the threat laid upon them by Vader. A faith which proved valid and vindicated when Han and Leia destroyed the Endor shield generator and Lando and Wedge destroyed the Second Death Star. It also helps that Luke's bonds with his friends and sister was what was anchoring him to the light side despite all of his hardships, more on this later.

Luke also never wanted to dominate or rule anything or anyone. He was a humble soul who never sought power for power's sake. He yearned more for adventure and self-discovery than for the power of the Force. And when he did get power, he only used it to help others and was very reserved with calling upon the Force unless necessary and only in a way that didn't hurt people.

For instance, Luke could've easily wiped out the ewoks when they captured him and the others.  Considering that the ewoks were trying to cook and eat them, Luke would've completely justified in using self defense for himself and his friends. But instead he used the force to make C3PO look like a deity and that made the ewoks let the others go and that put out the conflict to where rebels and ewoks eventually became allies.

So when Vader and the Emperor tempt Luke with the power of the dark side and control of the whole galaxy, it's really not hard for Luke to just say no.

Temptation only works if the individual is taunted with something that they actually want. Being tempted with lots of money in exchange for selling out a friend doesn't work if you don't need money or aren't hurting for money. Being tempted to commit a crime isn't hard to resist if there isn't any urgency that may make you consider putting aside your morals and values.

On the other hand, there's lots of stories of people who were on bad times and needed money. So they joined gangs and became criminals because they felt like they had no other way. There's also stories of people in similar situations who were really tempted to do something illegal or shameful if it alleviated their financial woes. But ultimately, they stood their ground and worked through a difficult path to find a better way.

So for Anakin, I can completely understand why he would be tempted to join the Dark Side of the Force. We're talking about a former slave whose spent most of his life under someone else's control and authority. Anakin just wants to live his life by his term and use his abilities to do good for others. But there's always something in the way like Watto, the Jedi Code, the Republic's weakness or from his point of view, his own weakness.

Add to that the stress of the Clone Wars; his unresolved grief over the death of his mother; worrying about Padme and their relationship; his growing frustration with the Jedi, the Republic and his own life; and Palpatine grooming him and being his false friend and mentor, yeah Anakin has an uphill battle to deal with. I can definitely see how Anakin would be vulnerable to temptation and how its logical for hi to fall to that temptation.

Anakin wants control of his own life and he wants the power to keep that control. Anakin wants to make his loved ones safe and he wants to make the galaxy a better place, so he'd want power to do that. Anakin doesn't just want to be a good jedi, he wants to be the most heroic and most powerful jedi to have ever been born and getting power can help him do that. Anakin wants the power to keep people from dying and the dark side is supposedly a pathway to do just that.

Ironically, Anakin's ambition and desire for control and power actually gave him tunnel vision. Anakin could have chosen to leave the Jedi Order entirely and so live his relationship with Padme publicly and without shame. He could still help the Republic as a key technician or even a general in the military. Anakin could have found a jedi healer and told them to watch over Padme so that she doesn't die from childbirth complications. Perhaps he could have gone to Obi-Wan for help and accepted any consequences that came with uncovering his secrets.

The problem is that doing these or other options would require Anakin to give something up or relinquish control to another. While this could be seen as putting a healthy amount of trust in others, Anakin would see it as weakness. Anakin wants everything, he wants to be with Padme, control his own life, make the galaxy better, and be the best the Jedi ever. Leaving the order means giving up his dream and Anakin is too ambitious to give up the things that he wants.

So he wants to hold everything and in the end Anakin is left with nothing.

He ends up betraying and destroying the Jedi Order; he helps create an Empire that will make galaxy a horrible place to live and kill trillions of innocent people; he loses all of his friends; and his wife dies because of his anger and her grief at what Anakin became for her sake. Anakin even loses his body and his soul, having the spend the rest of his life cast in a dark side armor under constant pain and self hatred. Living on as a cyborg revenant at the constant mercy and command of his tempter and corrupter, able to be disposed of at any moment by the Emperor with Vader unable to do anything but abide by his master's will.

All of which would be better if George had committed to an additional tragedy

Did Anakin fail the Jedi or did the Jedi fail Anakin?

As I mentioned in part 1, it's strange that George can't make up his mind on the Jedi's role in this whole tragedy. Without EU material, it's hard to tell on whether George intended for the Jedi to be flawless paragons brought low by betrayal or if the Jedi were meant to be well intended but flawed actors whose failures helped the Republic and for Anakin to fall. Even if you try to say that both are true, you'd be right, but the movies don't solidly support this either because they can't make up their mind.

What makes this especially strange is that the Revenge of the Sith novel very directly states that the Jedi failed the Republic and Anakin. The author Matthew Stover stated that Lucas had personally looked over and edited the novel before its release and included stuff from his screenplay. This included dialogue, exposition, word selection and so on as though George not only wanted the novel to most definitely line up with the movie, but also with his conception of Episode III.

To quote Matthew Stover himself, “What's in that book is there because Mr. Lucas wanted it to be there. What's not in that book is not there because Mr. Lucas wanted it gone. Period.”

In the novel, Yoda reflects on the Jedi Order during his fight with Palpatine and while meditating on Polis Massa. He acknowledges that the Jedi were beaten by the sith before the Clones ever started because the jedi were prepared for the wrong war. The Jedi had become complacent, stagnant and inflexible and expected the Sith to be the same as they were a thousand years ago. Meanwhile, the Sith had constantly changed and adapted to the realities of the galaxy and so they were able to manipulate the game board to where they controlled even the Jedi.

The Jedi could have stopped the Clone Wars from happening if they had done more to stand up or speak out against the Republic's corruption and weakness. Instead the Jedi did nothing and gave complicit acceptance to the Republic's fall through their silence and inaction. They could have tried to negotiate peaceful co-existence between the Republic and the Confederacy. Instead, they completely sided with the Republic without trying to understand or empathize with why thousands of systems wanted to leave the Republic.

Hell, the Jedi could have stayed out of the Clone Wars entirely and continued to advocate for peace rather than galactic war. They could have instead put all of their energy towards finding the Sith Lords with the idea that capturing and killing the sith would end the war since they're controlling both sides. This would've been deep unpopular with the people and senate, but would be validated when Sidious is eventually exposed and Palpatine either arrested, killed or forced to go into hiding.

In that same vein, the Jedi could have been more welcoming and understanding of Anakin. The reason why Anakin fell to the dark side was because the Jedi was too stagnant and set in their ways to be able to handle an unorthodox jedi like Anakin. If the Jedi had been able to see things from his perspective and perhaps explore the roots of his volatile emotions, then Anakin would've been far less vulnerable to the dark side.

Instead, the Jedi shunned and rebuked Anakin for just being himself. Obi-Wan was the only jedi who truly tried to empathize with Anakin, but could only go so far because Kenobi himself was a leader of the Jedi Order and had to stay somewhat neutral between the council and Anakin. Anakin was friendless with the exception of Kenobi and so he sought for companionship with Padme and Palpatine. Palpatine saw a chance to make Anakin reliant on him for emotional support and used their bond to turn Anakin against the Jedi and to groom him to eventually join the Sith.

So it's really odd to me that George would acknowledge the Jedi's failure with the official novelization that he helped edit and was based on his screenplay. But then almost none of this is ever shown or reflected on in the movies. Thus, any aesop that's supposed to validate or condemn the Jedi is incomplete because not enough is there to support it.

The Jedi were right about Anakin's anger turning him to the dark side, but they did nothing to address the source of that anger. The Original Trilogy clearly shows that love will save you from the dark side. But the Prequel Trilogy seems to imply and show that love will lead you to the dark side. Audience's can point out plenty of faults in the Jedi way and their actions, but the movies are largely silent about these things. There isn't even enough to argue that the issue is being left up for interpretation by the audience because there's too many conflicting and contradictory pieces to try to fit together.

I think that Anakin's story and the story of the Prequels would've been stronger if George had brought in more stuff from his interviews and novels into the actual movies. At the very least, the audience could understand the Jedi's point of view and have a clearer picture of who all is responsible for the events that unfold. It would also be brave to show that even good guy factions aren't perfect and would introduce nuance and grayness without undermining the objective good vs evil dichotomy that Star Wars is based on.

In Conclusion

So to reiterate, there's a lot of characterization stuff with Anakin that doesn't work. But the temptation and tragedy elements are the strongest elements of Anakin's character development. I like the idea of Anakin starting with humble origins and a lot of potential that's forced down by his unfortunate life realities. If the other elements were reworked and changed, then the strong stuff would be stronger.

However, I think the problems with Anakin's story comes from George telling us about Anakin rather than showing us. Rather then showing Anakin train his ass off to become the most powerful jedi ever, George invents Midichlorians and prophecies to tell us that Anakin is already awesome and powerful. Instead of showing Anakin and Padme fall in love in a wholesome, heartwarming and organic way, they're forced together and we have to be told that they're in love.

It all culminates into Anakin being so central to the prequel trilogy and the Star Wars universe that he becomes an anchor that pulls everything else down with him. George could have made Anakin the main character of the Prequel trilogy and important to the story of course. But Anakin needed to be an important, but smaller part of a larger story rather than being the most important piece over all others.

I'll give credit to George for being willing to make a tragic character the main character of the Prequel Trilogy. It would've been easy for George to play things safe and have Anakin be mind controlled into becoming evil. Instead, he allowed Anakin to fall by his own choices and wanted to show the audience how that fall occurred. A reminder that the potential of good and evil exists in us all and while Luke choose good, his father Anakin chose evil.

I could go on and on about how the Prequels could have been different than what we had. However, we have to ask at the end of the day if what we got was worthwhile or not?

I'd say that it was flawed, but overall good.

Above all else, George Lucas tried.

Even when he missed the mark, George Lucas was clearly trying to tell a deep story the way he wanted to tell it. A story that he didn't originally want to direct because he knew his limitations, but went through it anyway because he was the only one who could. A story that resonates well with both those who love the Prequels and even those who criticize and dislike them.

Sure the plot and characters weren't perfect at all. But there was enough present to where you can pick out and appreciate the message the George was trying to convey. Even the themes of the prequels are really applicable to both real life and current events without being too obvious or forced. That's because George understood that themes within storytelling need to be both relatable and applicable to the universal human experience.

It's the kind of sincerity that I miss about George even at his worst. “Insert Holiday Special Flashbacks”

The fact that so many people enjoy and defend the Prequels shows that a lot of people were inspired and entertained enough to want to stand against the hatedom. In the current day, I doubt that my mixed review will change anyone's minds or won't confirm what they already knew or believed. The Prequel Trilogy will remain a tale that someone will love and that some will hate. As a work of art, this is to be expected as some works of art are inherently divisive and no one will truly agree on it because they see the same thing and different thoughts are brought to their minds.

It may seem very odd to some of you that I've spent so much time typing and writing about the flaws of the Prequels when I admit that I like them. Or that I liked the Prequels even before Disney started sinking the ship. Though I will acknowledge that Disney's missups did give me a higher appreciation for how good I and other fans had it under Lucas in spite of missteps like Midichlorians or the taxation of the trade routes.

My ultimate takeaway about the Phantom Menace, the Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith is that they're good movies with deep ideas that weren't well translated or conveyed. The people who love these movies love them because they love Star Wars and enjoyed what they saw. The people who criticized, hated or were mixed about the Prequels also love Star Wars and thought that it deserved or could been better. So in the end, everyone wins because we all love Star Wars and can cross the aisle and share that love despite our disagreements and bickering.

And as long we can still do that then we can all be friends right? It's not like anyone would ever intentionally make a divisive Star Wars movie and deliberately paint the fanbase against itself while gaslighting critics with hypocritical politics that you don't actually believe in and are only pushing out to try and sell your brand to the naive masses-

Oh wait, I'm the darkest timeline!

“Inhales...”

Soon...

Very Soon...

THE END

[finelinevogue]

Just wanted to say 2 things:

1)Love the fic where he proposed over a cup of tea…so sweet💗

2) we all know how H has asthma sometimes so…could u write something w/the reader helping him with an attack idk or during an interview/concert/family gathering do as u pls

A nice day

XOXO

firstly, thank you so much that’s so sweet of you <33 and secondly, um yes i would love to give this a go at writing for you! hope you enjoy;

Harry couldn’t breathe.

He was in a panic, completely terrified of the uncontrollable situation. He was having an asthma attack concocted with a panic attack and it was brutal.

“Shit,” Jeff whispered as he watched Harry breathe heavily and loudly on the floor. His friend was currently on his hands and knees trying to gasp for air, whilst dressed in his notorious Fine Line outfit.

It was the big night. The one night only at The Forum for the release of his new album Fine Line, hence the costume. He had been nervous all day, with shaking hands and a tendency to forget simple things. You had been with him all day; having a slow brunch together out in the Hollywood Hills and then just chilling around for the afternoon. You didn’t want to anything to strain his voice, so talking hadn’t been an option. That left you either to sleeping and cuddling, whilst watching a movie, or sex. Now you were all for sex, but Harry complained that he liked talking to you during it and so that got shut down pretty quickly. You didn’t forget what he whispered to your ear though just before you cuddled into watching Bambi;

“Keep your moans for later, you’ll be fucking needing them for what I have planned.”

But that was over two hours ago now. Harry had been whisked away to start getting ready, what with hair and makeup first. You’d left him to it, telling him you would just lounge around and wait for him. It was when he was getting into costume had you announced you were just going to go down the street to get some coffee from Dunkin’ - seeing as there were few of them back in England, where you most commonly lived with Harry. The problem was you hadn’t come back yet, and it was an hour later.

“Harry mate, you need to calm down.” Kid Harpoon told him carefully, kneeling down next to his good friend. Nothing was working though and Harry was too breathless to ask anyone for his inhaler.

It had started by thinking about how nervous he actually was for tonight. It was such a huge show and one of a kind too. He was playing his new album and it wasn’t even 24 hours old yet. There was so much pressure weighing him down that he couldn’t breathe - he was suffocating in the anxiety of his own mind and he couldn’t escape at all. Then because he was in so much of a panic his asthma hit him and added another reason to his breathlessness. It was finally made worst when he realised you weren’t by his side to help him. You weren’t there to quickly eliminate the asthma and focus on helping him overcome the panic attack, instead he had his mates surrounding him - crowding him - and they didn’t know the first thing to do.

“Sarah, where’s Y/N?” Mitch shouted, making Harry squint the thought away. He didn’t want to think about how something back might’ve happened or might be happening to you. Where were you? Sarah’s response did no better to help him.

“I don’t know.”

“Harry bud. Talk to us.” Jeff spoke, crouched down in front of him. Harry shook his head, tears running from his eyes as he began crying. The sobs were really harsh and embarrassing. The tears were heavy and mixed with snot running from his nose to pool on the floor below him. He was not doing well at all, coughing when the asthma choked him up. He couldn’t do this. He felt like he was in a small box and it was only getting smaller. He felt as if he were going to die. Genuinely.

“Does he look like he can talk, dickward.” Adam’s voice came from the other side of Harry, messing his head up even more. There was so many voices and he couldn’t focus on just one, but he didn’t want to. He wanted yours. He needed yours. You.

Whenever this has happened before he was always luckily in the comfort of his home, or the tour bus and always with you. So this was unfamiliar and terrifying. He was beginning to think you’d left him or you’d gotten seriously hurt, but he couldn’t do anything to help. He was stuck - paralysed to this position as his lungs collapsed in on themselves and his brain sped the same speed as a train. You were his comfort person and it was only ever you that he wanted in situations like these. Just you.

“Move out of my way. Move!” Harry thought he heard you and your voice, but he hated that his mind could be playing tricks on him in desperation for what, or whom, he truly wanted.

He felt someone crash on the floor in front of him and the almighty smell of lavender and soap hit him all at once. This time, he was glad to have someone sit so close to him, because it was you.

“Harry look at me, hey, hey. You’re okay. Look at me bubs.” You spoke calmly, trying not to sound panicked yourself, even if you were heavily worried. You watched as he looked up at you, eyes ridiculously red and puffy whilst his nose was dripping like a leaking tap. You wanted to rub his tears away and dab away the snot, but your main priority was on his breathing first. “Okay good, okay.”

Your hand went into your bag and picked out his inhaler. You shook it a few times, before putting it into Harry’s mouth. “On three, one, two, three…” Harry tried is best to breathe in and you pushed down on the canister. “Good, bubs, really good. Okay again, one, two, three…” You repeated and then a third time until you could tell that the wheezing of his asthma attack had disappeared.

“T-than…” Harry tried to mumble out, but couldnt because he was still in panic and his throat was so dry.

“Sshh you’re okay.” You turned to one of the crew members and asked for them to fetch you a bottle of water. You asked people to clear out of the room and leave you with Harry for a bit, knowing he wouldn’t settle in front of all these people. You sat on the floor, crossed legged, and brought Harry to lay his head in your lap with his body trailing behind. You offered him one of your hands to squeeze if he wanted to, which he appreciated, cupping both of his around yours. Your other hand laid to stroke through his gelled hair - that would no doubt have to be redone now.

Instead of going straight into talking to him, you sang his favourite lullaby to him in aid of calming him down. It always worked, or at least helped a little. You sang quietly, noticing the beat of his heart soften with every line you sung. You were by no means a professional singer like him, but he liked the way it was so imperfect and mellow. It calmed him to hear something so simple and so you. Whilst you sang the crew never came back with your requested water and you thanked them, before you were the only ones left in the room.

After you finished singing you noticed how calm Harry was, almost still - the complete opposite to how he’d been all of 10 minutes ago. It was amazing what the power of you could do to him.

“What colour are we feeling?” You and Harry had created your own little system by which you would let each other know how you’re feeling by a colour of the rainbow. You’d designated a meaning to all of them that only you two could understand and used them on the days when you weren’t feeling great, to help understand each other’s feelings better.

“The whole bloody rainbow.” Harry mumbled out and you passed the water around so he could take a few sips, to which he thanked you graciously for.

“Oi, you can’t have that as your answer.” It was a rule that you could only use one colour to some your most intense emotion in that moment, otherwise there was kind of no point to the system.

“But it’s true. I feel grey with confusion, blue with sadness, purple with frustration, yellow with fear and even light yellow with cowardice. Yet I feel pink with happiness and light red with love.”

“What about red red?” You teased, not being able to help yourself.

“What? Lust? Always, for you that is.” You leant down to kiss his head as he cracked a joke, showing you that your Harry was still there beneath all this worry.

“Tell me what the colours represent in real life.”

“Purple because I am frustrated that I had to have a panic attack right before the biggest show of my career. Yellow because I am frightened that nobody will like the album and it will be a complete fail of a night. Grey because I can’t choose one colour and focus on it. I.. I—”

You could tell he getting himself worked up again, so cut him short. “Bubs stop, you’re okay. Listen to me.” You tucked his hair behind his ear as if to open it up for him to hear better. “Don’t ever be frustrated with yourself for something like this. You are allowed to have moments of weakness; you wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. Did this compromise your show? No. Did this show off how strong and brave you are? Yes. That’s what is important, therefore we can swap purple for dark yellow because you were brave. Which means yellow can also turn to dark yellow because you are so brave for doing something so huge and so wonderful. People already love the album H. Can’t get enough of it. Everyone will sing along to every word, I can promise you that. Or at least I will. You are amazing, so never undersell yourself. That’s important to me and for you. Bubs, you are so amazing for what you’re doing here tonight and I couldn’t be prouder of you. Yes, a panic attack isn’t nice and it isn’t convenient, but it just helps show how much you care about tonight and it going a success. That must count for something.”

He didn’t say anything for a bit and that was okay. He was most likely getting his thoughts together and mentally preparing himself for the greatest night of his life. You bent your body over so you could hug him, since his back was to your front, and just give him a squeeze to reiterate how proud you are of him.

“Y/N.” Harry spoke quietly, as your body encased his. You embraced his warmth and inhaled the beautiful scent that he was wearing. He both smelt and looked phenomenal.

“Yes bubs.”

“You know I love you right?” Of course you did, but it still made your heart flutter as crazy as the first time he said it to when he tells you now.

“I do.”

“And you know you’re it for me right?”

“Well.. I—” You didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself.

“Because you are.” Harry turned himself around, making you sit up so he could move. He was lying with his head facing upwards now, face looking less red and puffy, and staring right into the souls of your eyes. He looked magical. Beautiful. He thought the same of you. “And,” he moved his fingers to take off his S ring from Gucci, that probably cost more than your annual salary, and place it onto your ring finger of your right hand, “I give you this as a promise to share my last name with you someday.”

Seeing the initial of his last name sat on the finger opposite to the one he claimed he would one day put two more rings on, brought you to tears. “Harry…” You didn’t know what to say, you were speechless. You had never expected for him to do something as monumental as this and had never experienced it before to know how to react.

Of course you’d always dreamt of marrying him and being his for eternity, but never thought of it possibly becoming your reality. Now, Harry was completely devoting himself to you and only you and it suddenly all felt like the dream was settling in place.

“I swear to you Y/N, i’ll love you until the next lifetime and i’ll find you again. I love you so much, I can’t even tell you how much because it is so infinite. You’re so kind and patient with me and you see me for me, not for the Harry Styles, just Harry. I’ll never let a day pass without you on my mind and I think it’s because you were always meant to be mine. My heart is yours.” He smiled once he noticed you were crying, moving one of his hands up to wipe the tears away.

“How do I top that?” You whispered to him, but mostly to yourself. Both of you laughed.

“Just tell me you love me.”

“I do. I do love you Harry.” You nodded and then he sealed your confirmation with a kiss to his lips. You rested your hand upon his cheek, placing the coolness of the S ring upon his cheekbone, as he placed his hand under your chin to guide you into the kiss. He tasted divine and you smiled knowing that you got to have him like this, taste him like this, for the rest of your beating hearts’ days.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #finelinevogue #finelinevogue harry styles #harry blurb #harry oneshot #harry styles concept #harry styles fluff #harry styles asthma asthma #ask finelinevogue #ask harry styles #anon response #anon #finelinevogue blurbs #finelinevogue masterlist #harry styles fine line #one night only fine line #fine line album #fine line concert blurb #harry styles concert #harry styles concert blurb

[wonlouvre]

wonwoo + childhood friends to lovers?? maybe some jealousy involved on woos side eliciting a confession?❤️❤️

home | j. ww.

pairing: wonwoo x g.n. oc genre: fluff warnings: none (please tell me if i missed anything!) word count: 1.3k

💌: thank you for requesting dear anon! i hope you really like this :’) so much wonwoo content if you haven’t noticed by now and i’m living for it! thank you again! please do tell me what you think <3

Wonwoo thinks of himself as a coward for not swallowing his pride and reservations in telling you the truth. The truth about how much he is so in love with you,  it’s making it difficult for him to physically breathe. He hasn’t planned on confessing yet, but as the days go by, he thinks he’s running out of time. And even though he still sees you every day and you still keep him around, it's not enough. It’s not enough that he’s not holding your hands like he wants to or kissing you senseless like he wishes to. 

It’s not enough that he can’t love you more than just a friend. 

 “Wonwoo?”

You have been trying to get the boy’s attention for the past minute because it’s starting to concern you how much he’s spaced out. You have already tapped his shoulder, poked his cheek and even tickled his side. But to no avail, he was just staring at his book and sighing defeatedly. 

“Wonwoo?” You shake him again and finally, he looks at you. 

“Oh?” Wonwoo leans close and gives his glasses clad eyes to you. “What’s wrong?”

You sadly smile, bringing a hand up to fix his fringe. “Don’t you think I should be asking you that? You’ve been distracted ever since we got here.”

You and Wonwoo never created a schedule to study together, but by some unknown force, you always gravitated towards each other. It usually just takes one text message or one call and you’d be meeting at the university’s library in no time. Maybe, it’s a thing to be in sync with your childhood friend. You’re not sure, but you’re not ruling out the possibility. 

You and Wonwoo became friends when you just turned six years old and he was already nine. The two of you are next door neighbors, even up to now. Both of your parents became friends in an instant, automatically drawing you close to the shy boy with ease. He was timid and reluctant at first, but eventually he warmed up to you. 

The two of you were at each other’s side growing up. Attended the same school and always hang out afterwards despite the fact that he’s ahead of you. Went to the same playground. Ate at the local street food stands. Played at the only arcade established in the neighborhood. All of those done, together. 

It’s not that difficult to keep communication lines open and connection intact most especially when your bedroom windows are both adjacent. It’s a little bit unbelievable, but you and Wonwoo saw the different phases of your lives through those windows. You saw him escape through that window to play computer games with Woozi once. On the other hand, he saw you through that window dancing to one of your favorite songs. No hints of embarrassment. You even developed a code where there’s a number of knocks on the glass that will indicate your identities. You can enter at the main entrance of course, but this is special between the two of you. 

Well puberty was a different chapter and the two of you may or may not have distanced for quite a while. But, your friendship triumphed over the trials. 

Several people have asked if you have feelings for your friend. And several times, you denied. Likewise, Wonwoo has had his fair share of nosy people. It’s a conversation that you two have already talked about a year into college. The two of you were awfully awkward in denying, but shrugged it off nevertheless. By far, no one has asked again ever since. 

It didn’t affect your friendship, but a shift definitely happened. Like, the two of you became hyper aware of each other’s presence and actions. Casual gestures became lingering touches. Casual nicknames became specially endearing (that no one else is allowed to say them).

You could say this friendship also became something more as well.

Wonwoo’s heart skipped a beat at the warm sensation of your hand. He plays it cool and scratches the back of his neck, a habit he does when he becomes nervous.

You take notice of that, making you conclude that there’s really something wrong.  “Is there something that’s bothering you?”

Your friend sighs for the nth time and slumps on the open books he has failed to study. Wonwoo’s afraid to ask and he doesn’t even know if he really should. But, he has to get this out of his chest one way or another. “Are you really going on that study date with Jeonghan?”

Suddenly? You frown, confused as to where this is coming from. 

You answer him nonetheless. “Yes. You know I can’t fail this class, right? Jeonghan seemed to be the ace and he’s willing to teach me for free.”

“I can tutor you too, you know?” Wonwoo’s pouting now.

You grin and lean your arms on your notes, mirroring his position. You teasingly narrow your eyes at him and he looks away, annoyed at your antics. “But you don’t have this class in your program, remember?”

“And so?” Wonwoo asks, eyes boring back to you at lightning speed. “Doesn’t mean I don’t have good knowledge about the subject.”

You smirk. Yes, Wonwoo is a coward, but you’re confident. You’re confident with how you have found the only person you’re still friends with since childhood. You’re confident with how you found the only person to teach you how to ride a bike and play computer games. You’re confident with how you found the only person you want to grow old with.

And, you’re confident with how you found Jeon Wonwoo as the only person’s initials you would allow to be at home inside your heart. 

“I smell jealousy,” you state the obvious for him. “Can you confirm that for me, Mr. Jeon?”

Wonwoo was a coward. But not this time anymore. 

Your eyes widen when he suddenly stands up, chair scraping against the wooden floor. What he does next almost made you topple over, but your tight grip on the table kept you grounded. Wonwoo gently holds your chin between his fingers and softly presses his lips against yours. 

Wonwoo is kissing you.

Suddenly, you’re not so confident anymore. Your breath hitches for a short second, but you relax immediately after. You close your eyes and eagerly return his kiss. 

“Uh, guys?”

Wonwoo immediately pulls away and stands straight while you cast your eyes down and pretend to read your notes. Idiot, you scold yourself. There’s nothing wrong with what you just did. Why are we acting like we just committed a crime?

Just like that, the magical moment bursted like a bubble due to Jeonghan's appearance. 

Jeonghan clears his throat and looks between the two of you, back and forth. “You can continue, you know? I'll come back when Y/N’s ready.”

“No!” You and Wonwoo shout in unison and everyone in the library is hissing and shushing. 

“Woah.” Jeonghan raises his hands. “No need to be angry.”

“No, I mean,” you stutter, finding the right words to say before holding the hand of the man who just kissed you. “Wonwoo will tutor me instead.”

Wonwoo blinks in surprise, but gets the message and holds your hand back tightly. “Yeah. I’m- I’ll handle it from here.”

“You know you can just tell me that you have a date, right? Why are you two acting like I don’t know what relationships are,” Jeonghan complains with a roll of his eyes before turning around and walking away. 

You and Wonwoo release a breath of relief, eyes meeting. You couldn’t hold your giggle meanwhile he couldn’t hide the growing smile on his face. You bite your lip and gaze up at him. He fondly caresses the back of your hand and tilts his head, a gesture you clearly know the meaning of.

“How about we do go on that date Jeonghan’s talking about?”

Your face warms, in love. “I’d love to.”

#seventeen #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #seventeen scenarios #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo scenario #seventeen imagines #seventeen imagine #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo imagine #seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo drabbles #seventeen drabbles #wonwoo drabble #seventeen drabble #seventee x reader #svt #wonwoo seventeen #seventeen wonwoo #drabble: adore u #drabble: home

[nyx3927]

 @musicfeedsmysoul12​ and @lurking96 this is both of y’all’s fault with that thread about how too many fics where Izuku jumps, gets a quirk and just make Bakugo regret it without any actual character change. Just: Izuku goes splat, and now Bakugo is an uwu soft boy who’s really sorry but had no character development visible.

Y’all both get some of the blame for this fic outline I created after a bang, chocolate, and on 2 hours of sleep. It’s still a really rough outline and I don’t have time to polish it up into an actual outline, draft, then fic with my summer classes and job right now. Enjoy my stream of thought with no filter

The Ripple

Izuku has a concussion from Bakugo attacking him at school so his eyesight is off. Everything else is the same up to when All Might leaves him on the roof.

The concussion fucked with his vision, balance, and depth perception. So he ended up accidentally stepping off the side of the building. (Hush, I know that there’s a railing. We’re pretending that when All Might jumped away from Izuku on the roof, he accidentally took like half of it with him.)

Crash, boom, blood. Ambulance carted him off to the hospital and that’s the last we see of Izuku for a while.

They don’t know that All Might was the one who got him up to the rooftop because the notebook with the signature was blown off the roof and into the river. By the time that it was found, it was nothing but mush and the writing was illegible, all runny and blurry. They also just assumed that a villain ripped the railing off in a previous battle and the owner hadn’t gotten it fixed yet.

Inko tells Mitsuki that they think it was suicide because he couldn’t have accidentally gotten up on the roof (No evidence of All Might). Katsuki hears that but refuses to tell anyone that he told Izuku to jump off a roof because that could hurt his chances of being a hero.

Entrance Exam

Fast-forward to the entrance exam, everything proceeds as canon except for the bits with Izuku, which never happened.

Uraraka is stuck under the boulder with the zero pointer bearing down on her. Canon shows no evidence of any pro except Present Mic at the site, and he was last seen at the gates so he isn’t close by to Uraraka.

Uraraka couldn’t escape from the boulder in time and the kill switch takes up to 30 seconds to receive and process. So, the robot steps on the boulder and crushes her leg. She’s rushed to Recovery Girl but the damage is so severe that they have to amputate a leg.

As compensation, UA takes care of all the medical bills and offers her a spot in the Hero Course at UA with her entire tuition paid for all 3 years. Uraraka accepts to make it easier financially on her parents, so she shows up to the first day of classes with a prosthetic leg that she painted pink in an effort to make it less sad.

Quirk Assessment

A random extra is put into 1-A, but they and Mineta are promptly expelled. The extra just didn’t try at all, relying upon the idea that the teacher wouldn’t actually expel anyone on the first day. Mineta was just too pervy/not heroic enough so he got the boot.

Aizawa was reminded of the death of Oboro when Uraraka nearly got crushed, so he’s on high alert to expel those that he believes would never be good at heroics/ would just get themselves killed. Extra not trying and Mineta just focusing on being a perv, made him convinced they would get killed so he just expelled them straight away [No readmission for them]

This shocked Momo who thought he was bluffing and made her more cognizant of the fact that not everyone plays by the same rules as her.

Battle Trial

Battle trials happen. Momo and Uraraka are paired up together and fight twice in the trials. They won both times because Uraraka floated the bomb and Momo in the fight against Todoroki so that it was impossible for Todoroki to capture them. They win against Iida and Bakugo because Uraraka takes advantage of Iida’s unwillingness to hurt someone he views as disabled/helpless and knocks him out with a bat from Momo, then touches the bomb, Momo just created water and soaked Bakugo so he couldn’t use his Quirk and then ran from him.

All other trials proceeded as in canon.

USJ

Since Tsuyu is the only one in the Water Zone [Midoriya not in the story and Mineta expelled], she just went straight for the shore and got back to the entry area via the river. She witnesses the entire beatdown of Aizawa and his fighting, so she’s very traumatized. But because she’s amphibious and is completely underwater [In my hcs, she can breathe underwater as long as water can access most of her skin. So her suit is very permeable and water can get through it], Shigaraki never sees her and so he doesn’t try to kill her.

Rest of the USJ goes as canon dictates including Aizawa getting his head smashed by the Nomu

Sports Festival

Because 1-A has 2 less students, only the first 40 to get to the finish line can pass on. Todoroki ended up getting first place by icing over Bakugo’s legs at the tunnel entrance. Everyone else that originally passed in canon, also passed.

All the teams are the same, except for Uraraka’s team which doesn’t have Midoriya, and Shoji’s who doesn’t have Mineta.

Bakugo is going after Todoroki instead of Uraraka’s team because he’s focused on snagging the winning headband. 

Uraraka uses her Quirk on her team and they just hang out in the sky for awhile, since after the boulder, she practiced to be able to lift more weight so that never happens again. 

Shoji’s team is the same as canon, especially because Mineta never actually did anything important to the team.

Todoroki never uses his fire because he used his ice to create a dome that kept everyone else away from his team. Bakugo runs around stealing other headbands since he can’t get to Todoroki.

At the end of the round, Todoroki is in first, Bakugo is second, Uraraka is third and Shinso is fourth.

Ojiro and Shoda both drop out citing the fact that they couldn’t remember the event as the reason. Shiozaki Ibara and Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu replace them

So now we have the 1v1 battles with the following students.

Uraraka Ochako

Tokoyami Fumikage

Hatsume Mei

Bakugo Katsuki

Kirishima Eijiro

Ashido Mina

Sero Hanta

Todoroki Shoto

Iida Tenya

Yaoyorozu Momo

Kaminari Denki

Shinso Hitoshi

Aoyama Yuga

Shiozaki Ibara

Tetsutetsu Tetsutestu

Shinso gets a free pass onto the next round because he is a gen ed student so they wanted to allow him the best chance possible and it’s better for the optics of UA for watchers to see a hero student beating up another hero student instead of a gen ed kid.

Todoroki v. Sero -Todoroki won ala iceberg

Kaminari v. Shiozaki  -Kaminari won by sending electricity through her hair and knocking her out because Aizawa forced him to start thinking outside of the box after he nearly died during the USJ [shiozaki has to have nerves to control her vines and nerves have electricity traveling through them. So they’re a conductor and Kaminari can send his electricity down them]

Iida v. Hatsume -He doesn’t accept her gadgets and just pushes her out of bounds. After the Uraraka debacle in his battle trial, he realizes that he can’t just go off his perceptions and has to be wary of them.

Ashido v. Aoyama - Ashido won

Tokoyami v. Yaoyorozu - Yaoyorozu won by creating an explosion of light and blinding them, then pushing them out of the ring. Uraraka taught her to take advantage of what she can do and Aizawa forced her to realize that others don’t have the same rules.

Tetsutetsu v. Kirishima - Kirishima won by charging Tetsutetsu and knocking him out of the ring. Again Aizawa forced him to not just behave as a shield because of the USJ

Uraraka v. Bakugo -Uraraka won by taking off her prosthetic, leaving it as a decoy and floating herself so that he couldn’t hear her coming, and the dust from his explosions had blinded him. She tackled him from above and hurled him out of bounds. He got a concussion and Recovery Girl forced him to stay in the infirmary.

Todoroki v. Shinso -Shinso won by coming after Todoroki’s weak spot and making him talk

Iida v. Kaminari -Kaminari won by shocking Iida’s engines when he tried to grab him. Made him collapse, and then just dragged him out of bounds.

Tokoyami v. Ashido- Tokoyami won by Dark Shadow kicking her out of bounds

Uraraka v. Kirishima -Uraraka won by preying on Kirishima’s desire for manliness and to not hurt a girl. Got close enough to float him and then just push him out of bounds. Aizawa has plans to lecture Kirishima about when to be manly and when to not be.

Shinso v. Kaminari -Shinso won. He could tell that Kaminari was a memelord, so he just took advantage of that and said a meme that Kaminari couldn’t resist completing. [Don’t know what yet, I’ll figure it out later]

Tokoyami v. Uraraka -Tokoyami won. Uraraka lost because she couldn’t use her Quirk on Dark Shadow and Dark Shadow was the one to attack her. [See doc of quirk analysis for more in depth in case we forget]

Shinso v. Tokoyami -Shinso won by mirroring Tokoyami’s speech patterns which knocked him off guard and got him caught into Shinso’s Quirk.

Shinso got first place, Tokoyami got second, Uraraka and Kaminari shared third place.

Hero names

Todoroki -Shoto

Bakugo -King Explosion

Iida -Tenya

Uraraka -Weightless [As a pun on weigh less because of her amputation and her quirk. She’s not quite as bubbly and didn’t feel like uravity reflected her anymore]

Tsuyu -Froppy

Kirishima -Red Riot

Yaoyorozu -Creati [I really want to change this but I don’t know to whaaaat!!! I’ll come back to it later]

Tokoyami -Tsukuyomi

Jiro -EarJack

Shinso -Silencer [Stupid but his quirk makes people silent plus I love MLB silencer design of the , not the helmet tho that is ugly looking and the coloring needs to be more muted imo]

Internships

Shinso gets an internship with Aizawa to assess whether or not he’s fit for heroics. Aizawa also prescreens all of his students' internships to make sure that it’s a good fit for them. [He’s a lot more protective of where they because he wants them to be actually learning useful heroics not shit like how to clean and pose for a camera.]

Mirko offers an internship to Uraraka because she wanted to teach a fighting girl that was perceived as helpless by society. [Society views disabled as helpless, a girl is also viewed as helpless, both is bad combination. Mirko wants to prove anyone can be badass with the right training]

Yaoyorozu gets put with Fatgum because Aizawa sees that she’s struggling with the fat part of her Quirk and knows that if she went with Uwabami, she’d develop more insecurities. [Uwabami is a TV actress/model. She’ll pass on weight/beauty related insecurities because that’s what a lot of actresses have and she seems focused more on a fanbase]

Kirishima goes with Rock Lock to be faced with the blunt truth that ideals are nice, but you can’t have them rule your life as a hero. [Canonly, he’s very blunt and pragmatic, so he’d believe that trying to be manly is fine, but there is a time and place for it.]

Everyone else goes with their canon internships.

The Nomus attack Hosu. Because Gran Torino isn’t there, the Nomus are more dangerous and more civilians die. All the heroes are focused exclusively on managing the Nomus and the interns kinda fall to the wayside since they can’t do anything.

Iida slips away and Manual is too busy putting out fires to notice.

Iida runs off and finds Stain. Battle commences and Iida loses.

Stain calls him and Native fake heroes. Native gets a sliced throat. Stain is a little more lenient with Iida because he is a kid. He goes through the fabric pants and slices the femoral artery to the bone. [Femoral artery cuts can lead to death within minutes especially with Iida running on adrenaline which kicks up the blood pressure and rate of bleeding.]

Endeavour comes through with Shoto burning all the nomus and destroying them. Finally the city is quiet and the search for the dead begins.

Every hero in Hosu grid searched the entire city to retrieve the dead and bring them to the morgue for claiming. 

Manual was the one to find his dead intern and Native. He had to call UA and tell them that he got a student killed while under his supervision. He gets blacklisted by UA and Aizawa puts out a warning on the Underground network that if others are under his care, that he might lose track of them.

Once everyone returned from their internships, they left red spider lilies on his desk as a way to guide him to the afterlife.

Training Camp

The villains still want Bakugo because they saw his aggression, violence, and determination to be the best during the sports festival and the internships. So they think he’d be an easy switch to flip.

This time, Aizawa doesn’t dump them out in the middle of the forest because he’s focusing on forcing his students to interact and bond with each other instead of doing their own thing. So they all stay on the bus and Aizawa makes them talk about something semi-important with a seat partner for 10 minutes before switching so that everyone talks to more than just their friend groups.

When they arrive, Kota is his bratty self and Aizawa shuts that down fast. He tells him that he has two options, one: stay with his aunts and uncle or two: stay with Aizawa. Aizawa can’t have an itty-bitty child running around loose in the forest when 17 hormonal teenagers are letting off their Quirks which are dangerous. [it was an awful idea in canon to let Kota hide in his treehouse. Imagine if one of the kids near the mountain lost control of their quirk.] Kota chooses to stay with his aunts and uncle at all times because Aizawa is scary.

Once the training starts, he pairs everyone up with different partners to force their Quirks to improve.

Ashido-Kirishima to strengthen her acid and his hardening by hurling acid at him

Tokoyami-Kaminari-Aoyama to force Aoyama to maintain his laser beam for longer, Tokoyami to force him to strengthen Dark Shadow against light, Kaminari to power multiple light sources without burning them out and not going into whee mode so he can avoid the laser beam and Dark Shadow

Ojiro-Koda to force Koda to vary the animals that he calls and Ojiro to give him experience with fending off multiple opponents of varying sizes and skill levels without seriously injuring them.

Todoroki-Bakugo-Tsuyu to force Todoroki to be able to control both sides of his quirks and switch them easily, Tsuyu to force her to get accustomed to varying temperatures and making sure they don’t knock her out, Bakugo to force him to sweat more in both cold and hot temperatures so that he’s more versatile.

Jiro-Shoji-Hagakure to force Hagakure to improve her stealth and fighting, Jiro to make her be able to detect people sneaking up on her, and Shoji to improve his locating skills and stealth. [Shoji is a big boy and needs to work on stealth]

Sero-Sato to help Sero with his dodging and speed, and Sato to help him retain more of his planning and forethought while his Quirk is activated

Uraraka-Yaoyorozu to make Uraraka work on her sickness and weight limits and Yaoyorozu to adapt to planning on the fly and create items quickly.

Aizawa forces them to break away from their training partners when it’s time to make dinner and everyone is required to help in some way during the meal. The help can be gathering the ingredients, preparing them, doing the actual cooking, plating, setting the table, cleaning up after, anything as long as they contributed.

Repeat until the trial of courage.

Vlad wants to do the trial and Aizawa refuses to do it. Aizawa is actively trying to squash out the competitiveness of his students in order to make them work together and ask for help so that they’ll survive longer in the hero society. Uraraka lost a leg because people wouldn’t cooperate to help her in the entrance exam and Iida died because he was too focused on himself and didn’t ask for help. The trial would just reignite the competitiveness and ruin his progress.

1-B does the trial on their own while 1-A is given a maze they have to navigate.

The maze is created by Pixie Bob and is huge. It’s large enough that the students on the ground can’t peek over the walls to see the path. There are two students on the ground, the leader and the guide. The leader can see the walls and the turns but has earplugs in so they can’t hear the guide if the guide tries to talk. The guide can hear the directions from the person who sees the entire maze but is blindfolded and has to guide through tapping the shoulders of the leader. The person outside and looking down has to direct their team through the maze quickly without crashing into other teams. The leader can’t just guess a direction because Pixiebob will shift the maze if they try to do that so they can’t backtrack. It’s in teams of three so Aizawa is directing the last team. [Kinda inspired by survivor but with my own twist]

All of them rotate through each position with different teams each go round to impress on them the importance of all the roles.

In the last round, Bakugo was the person issuing instructions, cursing and screaming through the mic the entire time.

That’s when the villains attacked. But there were a few changes in the lineup. 

Toga wasn’t there because the police picked her up and Inko got her case taken on to get her on parole and took her into her home when she saw her at the station while continuing with the criminal charges levied against the owner of the building that Izuku had fallen off of. The appearance of a girl bullied and ostracized for her Quirk, who was going down the path of no return, Inko saw Izuku in her. As such, she wanted to care for her and show her that villainy wasn’t the answer and that there are people who cared for her in spite of her blood Quirk. [Toga is stuck with Inko at this point in time and has a tracking anklet to make sure that she’s behaving. Rehab is going really well with the unconditional care that Inko is providing.]

Dabi got an infection and landed in the hospital ER as an unknown patient and wound up in a coma while his body was busy trying to fight the infection of his staples. [The man’s a walking open wound. You can sneeze in his general vicinity and have a high chance of taking him down in a couple weeks. Haven’t decided if I want to wake him up or not. Depends on my feelings]

Mustard joined the attack via Toga due to them being closer in age and talking. No Toga, no Mustard. [He’s sulking in detention right now.]

So the only ones left are Mr. Compress, Magne, Spinner, Muscular, Moonfish, Twice and the Nomu. Much smaller and no long-range attacks.

Their mission is to get in, extract Bakugo and get out with minimal damage. That’s what happened.

Muscular, Moonfish, and the Nomu all rampage on the opposite side of the mountain to draw attention to them. Magne and Spinner break up the 1-A class and drive them apart. Twice and Mr. Compress work together to snatch up Bakugo in a marble and then they all book it. Muscular and Moonfish are both left behind to keep the heroes distracted long enough for them to get back to Kurogiri and through the portal. Nomu ended up buried in a mountain via a very anger Tiger at the disruption of his naps. The students all worked together to try and bring down the villain to retrieve their classmate, but when that failed, Yaoyorozu managed to attach a tracker to the villains top hat.

Injuries were minimal and the three heavy hitting villains were arrested and locked up. The only casualty was Bakugo being kidnapped.

Kidnapping Arc

Blah, blah, join us you can be stronger and win a villain-Shigaraki

No, fuck off, go fuck yourselves-Bakugo

Repeat until All Might shows up

Then AfO activates goop Quirk [really need a better name for that. better than vomit transport quirk at least. That was my first thought], drags the league and Bakugo to him. Bakugo is held by him, hand on his temple ready to crush him.

Rest of Heroes all show up on the battlefield but aren’t moving so that Bakugo doesn’t get hurt. Essentially a stand off.

You know, you can tell whether or not someone has the potential for villainy by their greatest regret -AfO

AfO has a quirk that allows the user to see someone’s greatest regret, with more details the longer that the quirk is activated. He also has a quirk that allows him to project whatever he’s thinking about in a video format for everyone to see. [the man is old. he probably had a habit of taking whatever quirk he wanted when he was younger before all might turned him into a very ugly potato/alternate darth vader]

Quirks activate and it’s the scene of Bakugo telling Izuku to get jump off a building spliced with the news from Inko that Izuku was suspected of jumping off a building

Interesting. Why is that your greatest regret?-AfO

Quirk gives him more details. 

Bakugo only regrets saying that because if it ever became public, he'd never reach the spot of number one hero which is his only goal in life.

Guess you are nothing but a villain after all. Too obsessed with yourself to see the damage you caused.-Afo 

Afo shoved the boy away from him and forcibly activated Kurogiri’s Quirk to allow the league to escape.

Every hero on site is frozen in shock at the reveal of what a hero student of UA, the most prestigious hero school that graduated most of the top heroes in Japan, actually believed.

At that point, AfO flips All Might the finger and just goes through the portal because the news would shake society’s faith in UA which is really good. He can kill All Might later. [or just wait for any infection to take the man out. He lost his stomach so he probably lost his spleen too which is kinda important for the immune system.]

Fallout

Bakugo is booted to gen ed because Aizawa refused to teach someone that was just going to end up hurting someone later in life. Because Aizawa is an Underground Hero who specializes in information and predication, schools tend to believe in what he says about the potential/future of heroes in training especially when he has evidence to back up his beliefs. So no other school will take him on as a hero student.

Bakugo is essentially blacklisted from heroics because everyone wants to believe that a hero is good and just. And when the illusion is broken before it has a chance to solidify, they have no chance of becoming a hero. 

Aizawa goes and apologizes in person to Inko. Because even though he had no way of knowing, he feels like he should have recognized the abusive tendencies and/or egocentrism  of Bakugo earlier. So, allowing it to continue was a slap in the face to his victims.

Inko accepts his apology because she didn’t know about it either so how could she blame him when she was closer and still missed all the signs. She offers to let Aizawa visit Izuku because Eraserhead was one of his favorite heroes because of how much skill he had. But because Eraserhead was underground, he didn’t have any merch or enough information to write about him.

*Split path here depending on the angst level I want

1. Izuku is in a coma, all healed up, just hasn’t woken up. When they came, Izuku had just woken up a half hour ago so the doctors were busy checking all his vitals, memory, joints, etc. Inko cries, Aizawa stands away because he’s allergic to emotions, and Izuku is just silently fanboying because he sees one of his favorite heroes.

2.Izuku is in a coma and doesn’t wake up. Inko introduces Aizawa to him and tells Aizawa about his dreams and his story. Aizawa makes sure that at least once a week, he comes and visits to talk to him. He also brings other heroes to introduce to Midoriya to make sure that others know about him.

3.Aizawa and Inko go to a graveyard and the name Midoriya Izuku is carved into a family grave marker with flowers and an All Might figure in front of it. Inko tells Aizawa that Izuku died from falling from the building. They thought he jumped randomly, but with the new info, Inko is thinking that Bakugo might’ve pushed him verbally over the edge. Aizawa promises to investigate more.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #fic outline #fic ideas #anti bakugou #consequence #cw suicide attempt #doesn’t actually happen #but characters think it did #aizawa shōta #alternate universe #canon divergence

[griffintail]

I’m surprised people think techno’s grief extends to pure violence. When it’s clear the news of his S/O death leaves him trembling on the floor, and letting out pained wails his first night alone. Leaving him delirious in denial as Philza has to keep watch to make sure he doesn’t kill himself trying to bring them back. And as the grief seeps in he is left to sleep through dreamless nights and live through thoughtless days. And at the end, acceptance isn’t voluntary, he’s too tired to do anything else. (Please write smth for this I can’t sleep this idea’s been eating at me for days)

I went a bit off script- I hope you still enjoy. :)

The Bolt

In-Game

Pairings: Technoblade x GN! Reader

Warnings: Death, Blood, Angst

Part 2

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

        Techno blocked the axe coming for his face with his shield as he chugged his last regeneration potion.

        The last battle of L’Manberg was over and he needed to find (Y/N) and get home to safety. He gave a whistle that echoed across the battlefield before pushing Sapnap away from him. Booking it away, he went towards the meet-up spot Phil and (Y/N) had agreed with him.

        “Phil, I want you to have the totem.” Techno held it out to his friend.

        He saw Phil running from the wreckage the withers were causing as he could see the (H/C) head of hair weaving through the chaos. Techno lost his concentration as he stared at (Y/N), everything a dull roar as he smiled softly at their figure. Creating the scene of anarchy and chaos.

        “Wait, I’m your damn fiancé, why don’t I get it?” (Y/N) gave a dramatic huff as they put a hand on their chest.

        It was true, they both only had one life but…

        “Because, you and I, we never die blood goddess,” Techno smirked.

        “TECHNO!” They screamed.

        He had missed seeing the crossbow aiming at him because he had been looking at (Y/N)…

        He went to get his shield but he would be too slow…

        Then there was a cracking as an ender pearl shattered in front of him and in a cloud of purple sparks appeared (Y/N), who gasped as they caught the crossbow bolt in the stomach.

        “You’re such an idiot.” (Y/N) laughed. “Now! Let’s celebrate our freedom from the child by blowing up a nation!”

        Techno laughed as he enjoyed the sparkle in their eyes at the thought of the anarchy.

        “No, no, no!” Techno caught them as they fell, Jack quickly loading his crossbow again.

        He needed to go.

        Scooping them up, he bolted for where Phil was watching in wide-eyed shock. Phil managed to snap out of it though and covered Techno’s retreat as he tried to reassure (Y/N).

        “It’s ok, we’re going to get you home, alright? Come on, you’re going to need to keep your eyes open for me beautiful.”

        But (Y/N) winced before crying out as the crossbow bolt brought them pain. The voices were screaming in panic with them and Techno.

        WE NEED TO GO FASTER! WE’RE OUT OF HEALTH POTIONS! WHY DID THEY TAKE THE BOLT! PHIL, HELP TECHNO! GO GO GO GO!

        “I’m here mate!” Phil ran beside him now, taking off his jacket. “We got to keep pressure on it till we get to the potions. I sent a crow ahead to get one faster hopefully.”

        Phil kept pace as pressed the jacket around the bleeding wound, (Y/N) letting out another scream. Techno wanted to scream himself as he ground his teeth together to keep himself together.

        They had to cross the nether to get home!

        They had so far to go!

        That crow needed to get here yesterday!

        “T-Techno.” (Y/N) sputtered.

        “Quiet, keep your strength,” Techno demanded.

        “I-I-I…” They muttered before their eyes blinked closed.

        “We got to stop.” Phil panicked.

        “We don’t have any potions!” Techno also panicked.

        “We have to slow down the bleeding now!”

        The pair stopped as Techno put (Y/N) down as Phil tried to work as fast as he could being the experienced healer. He tried to stem the bleeding as best he could, he couldn’t take the bolt out though and it had to have hit something important because there was too much damn blood!

        Then a few minutes later…

        (Y/N)’s chest stopping moving…

        “No. No, no, no. Breath damn it!” Techno commanded, putting a hand on their shoulder.

        “Techno…” Phil said quietly, tears in his eyes.

        “Where’s your crow!?” Techno shouted. “We need a potion now!”

        “…It’s not going to help Techno.”

        “It has to! We—They’re not gone! They…they…”

        Techno put his forehead on theirs as tears gathered in his eyes.

        “Please…don’t leave me. I love you; I need you…”

        But (Y/N) had fallen and lost their last life…

        …

        Techno had carried (Y/N) all the way home to the tundra and he held them for a while before he finally let himself bury them. Then…

        He just sat there for hours, shaking.

        In the freezing cold.

        Next to the mound of dirt.

        “Techno, mate. You got to come in.” Phil muttered as he came out as night was starting to fall.

        “I don’t want to leave them,” Techno mumbled.

        The voices were quiet whispers as they talked about all the things they loved about (Y/N) and Techno just sat listening to them, ignoring as Phil protested.

        “They wouldn’t want you to die with them mate.” Phil finally broke through the voices.

        Techno huffed, tears falling behind his mask. “And they didn’t want to die either.”

        Phil sighed before just sitting next to his old friend.

        “What are you doing?” Techno looked at him.

        “You got to pass out eventually. Doubt all the adrenaline from the fight is helping.”

        It really wasn’t. Techno felt bone tired and his body wanted nothing more than for him to sleep but he wanted nothing more to sit here with…(Y/N). He was covered in the blood of his lover and those he harmed today. Maybe it was all karma everything he had done…

        It took another hour but finally, Techno’s body took control and he was out. Phil let out a long sigh before dragging the man into his own home. It was going to be a hard time for a while…

        …

        Phil thought Techno would be the same as the first night, that the other man would become unresponsive. His assumptions had been false though. In fact, it was worse.

        Techno didn’t eat or sleep properly, which Phil had expected, but what he didn’t expect was for Techno to practically go insane as he poured over hundreds of lore books, trying to figure out how to bring (Y/N) back.

        “Techno, mate, you need to take a break from this.”

        “No, I will get them back. If I can just figure this out…I can do it.”

        “You can’t do it if you die too!”

        Phil went around these circles for hours, Techno sometimes striking low saying if he can figure it out, he could bring Wilbur back as well. Techno went full force into his work, the voices only encouraging his behavior as they threw out ideas to research. He had never listened to his voices more than now.

        Techno had been so invested in his work, he didn’t notice when Phil gave Ranboo to build on the land, mostly because Phil gave him one rule, leave Techno be. Phil knew Techno the best and was trying his damn best to knock Techno back.

        The blood god was pouring over notes for a hopeful experiment when Phil came in, food in hand as always.

        “It’s late Techno, eat and go to bed,” Phil told him.

        “After I’m done,” Techno muttered.

        “Techno.”

        “After. I’m done. Phil.” Techno gave him a dark glare before going back to his notes.

        Phil sighed, putting the food down on the table. “Tommy locked Dream in prison.”

        Techno frowned. That made him glance at Phil.

        “Why?”

        “Something about his discs as usual.” Phil crossed his arms, shrugging. “We got a notice on the radios that Dream lost two lives to Tommy.”

        “Huh,” Techno mumbled, looking at his work again. “Kid should have finished him…”

        Techno scribbled out a sentence. That wouldn’t make sense.

        “Probably, I don’t know why he didn’t. Ranboo might know though.” Phil smirked to himself, his tactic working a bit well in his favor.

        Techno’s interest was at least separating a bit from his research.

        “Who?” Techno pulled over one of his sheets.

        “The kid living outside the house.”

        “Heh?” Techno looked up fully at that.

        “He’s been here for weeks Techno; you’ve just been so caught up you haven’t noticed.” Phil pointed out now. “You need a break mate. You’re going…you’re going to kill yourself doing this.”

        Techno looked at the papers in his hand.

        “Techno, you need to fight another day. Come on.” (Y/N) tried to coax him away from preparing potions. “I’m tired.”

        He clenched the papers as the voices were scattered, none of them focused on one thing right now.

        “…Fine. I’ll at least talk to the kid.” Techno grumbled, getting up.

        “Take the food.” Phil grinned.

        Techno rolled his eyes, taking the bread but nothing else. He ate it as he left the house, his eyes not daring to travel to the beautiful flowers around the mound of dirt. Indeed, on his land, was a little house in the side of the hill. Huffing, he went over as the voices were skeptical, remembering one boy named Ranboo from L’Manberg and visiting Tommy.

        “I can’t believe the little brat!” (Y/N) screamed as they paced around the house. “We gave him shelter! I should him love! AND HE BETRAYS US!”

        Techno closed his eyes, his body shaking before trying to distract himself by knocking on the door.

        “Phil?” A voice called from the other side before they opened the door.

        The tall boy shrank seeing Technoblade at his door.

        “Uhhhhh…hi,” Ranboo muttered, looking anywhere but the pig masked man.

        Techno didn’t care really for pleasantries right now, so might as well get straight to the point.

        “Hi, heard you might know why they locked Dream away rather than just kill him,” Techno grunted.

        He hated the fact that Dream also had a favor over him. Would have been nicer for him if they had killed the smiley masked man.

        “Oh yeah…I was there…hang on,” Ranboo muttered, taking a book off his belt and flipping through. “He uh…Dream said he had a book that could bring back the dead.”

        Every. Single. Voice. Went silent.

        As Techno stared at the tall hybrid, who shifted nervously at the stare.

        “He did now?” Techno muttered.

        “Y-Yeah. He said he could bring Wilbur back for Tommy.”

        Techno didn’t care about the rest as his cape fluttered behind him as he took a determined march to the house to grab his things. If Dream wanted to cash in that favor, he owed him one more thing…

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #technoblade x reader #dreamsmp x reader

[lonely-lost-soul]

Where Loyalties Lie

(Technoblade X reader) 

Request 3: Can we get a little angsty fic or headcanon of Techno trying to get the reader to leave L’manberg?

Requested By: Anonymous

~~~

     “Tubbo please take a deep breath,” You followed him around the rubble as he paced restlessly. 

     “I’m president of a crater (Y/n)!” The boy pulled on his ears with a loud whine, “What am I gonna do. I can’t believe Wilbur blew it up-” He felt your hands touch his own and gently pull them away from his oversensitive goat ears. “What am I gonna do? I-I’m a kid…” You frowned, moving to cup his cheek with your hand. He nuzzled into it desperately, welcoming the comforting touch of someone who he considered family. 

     “You’re going to get through it because you’re strong.” You told him, “and so brave little ram.” He flushed pink letting out a whine of protest especially because he was still surrounded by most of his friends. 

You watch as Quackity walked over to the both of you and placed his hand on Tubbo’s shoulder squeezing it, “We’ll rebuild. We’ll be right behind you Tubbo.” He smiled at the kid and you couldn’t help but smile over at him. 

     “Thank you both. Truly.” 

There was one thing that had you were worried you may come to regret, and that was not taking Technoblade’s hand as he fled from the country. You were close almost touching it, he looked like he wanted to beg for you too but one desperate cry from Tubbo had you pulling away. He looked heartbroken but at the same time, you saw understanding in his deep red eyes. 

Family came first. 

That day he pulled you close pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, “I’ll be back for you.” 

You murmured a soft I’m sorry, turning to find Tubbo to make sure he wasn’t injured or dying. The thoughts of the festival replaying in your head, you couldn’t go through that...not again especially because now Tubbo was officially on his last life. Tommy couldn’t fathom how you didn’t blame Technoblade for what happened that day, but to you, two things were clear: one was that Tubbo didn’t blame him which made it easier on your end to forgive him; two Schlatt was manipulative and overwhelming as fuck you can’t blame someone for something they were peer pressured into doing. Speaking of Tommy you ended up finding Tubbo and him in the rubble that day, the taller male was pressing cloth to Tubbo’s bleeding arm desperately, when you took over and Tommy seemed grateful. 

However, you had to push your possible regrets aside and focus on the new nation you’d help build, and build it you did. You worked endlessly for months on end creating a lovely new nation for people to live in, Tubbo had dubbed it New L’manburg. You felt his pride and happiness, he just loved seeing everyone together again and happy once again. Finally, the server felt somewhat normal after all that destruction, even if there was a Techno-shaped hole in your heart. Things changed rather quickly when Tubbo was, in your eyes, manipulated to exile Tommy by Dream. You had tried to argue for the boy saying that not only was he Tubbo’s friend but just a kid. You were shut down harshly by not only Dream but Tubbo as well, the look in his eyes was filled with so much loathing and frustration. It’s the first time he ever snapped and was harsh to you, you felt your own frustration bubble up in your chest. You turned on your heel and marched back up into your house, you were not going to put up with this behavior. When you slammed the door shut, and turned around to find Technoblade standing in your living room,  with your cat purring fondly on his shoulders; you almost screamed.

     “Heh- why are you scared it’s just me?” The hybrid complained his nose scrunching up, “Don’t be cringe- oof-” Techno grunted as you threw your arms around his waist, the man flushed to the tips of his ears and looked away from you, Taffy hopped off his shoulders disgruntledly, “Yeah, yeah, I missed you too.” He pet the top of your head tenderly and you looked up at him with a smile. 

     “What’re you doing here Tech? If Tubbo finds out he’ll have your head.” 

     “Then I guess we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t find me then huh?” He mused lips, quirking into a smile, and you nodded in agreement. “Other than that just running some errands. I’m in retirement now you know. I have to say that ‘New L’Manburg’ is certainly a name.” He did air quotes around the name and you nudged him, 

     “Be nice.”

     “Boo Cringe. I’m a Blood God starlight. I don’t do nice.” 

     “Bullshit,” You punched him in the arm, “Tea?” 

     “Please.” He cracked a smile as you walked over to your tea kettle heating the water and grabbing some tea bags. 

     “So, you came here to run some errands huh? I almost thought you missed me?” Technoblade shuffled a little behind you, how could you read him so perfectly? It was complete and utter bullshit. You heard him click his tongue distastefully behind you and you couldn’t help but smirk cheekily,

     “Get off my back woman.” He stated gruffly as you laughed, “but I guess I do miss you a little bit.” You smiled fondly and softly cooed at him and he let out another scoff, 

     “A little bit?”

     “What is this interrogation? You a cop now?” You placed his tea in front of him and he took a sip,

     “Yeah, we’re gonna need to do a strip search. Drop your pants.” Technoblade choked on his drink, face turning the darkest shade of red you’ve ever seen from him. You howled with laughter sliding down in your seat beside the man. 

     “I changed my mind. I didn’t miss you at all, you’re a terror.”

     “You love me, admit it.”

     “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He murmured looking at you with a sudden softness that was out of character for him. You didn’t notice the change but it was there, oh if only you knew how much of what you said was true. He did love you. He ran his tongue across his teeth and reached out to interlock your hands within his own. 

     “Come live with me.” 

     “Tech…”

     “I’m in retirement now. I’m going to get some turtles hopefully, maybe some other pets while I’m at it. There’s a lot of room...It gets lonely all alone you know. It’d be nice to have you there with me.” He watched hesitance flicker across your face again just like the day Wilbur blew up L’Manburg. Your thoughts went to Tubbo and how much he needed you, especially now that Tommy was exiled. However, you were also brought back to a few moments ago where Tubbo snapped at you for trying to help. You took a ragged breath and pushed his hand away, he frowned sadly bringing his hand back down to his lap. 

     “I need to be here for Tubbo. He’s a kid Tech...way over his head. Dreams sniffing around him like a dog looking for his next victim to manipulate. I can’t let that happen, not to him. I know he’s President of this nation and you hate him for that, but he’s my brother and I love him. He’s a tough kid with a lot of fire, but I can’t just leave him in the dust. I love you,” You reached up and cupped his cheek and Technoblade felt his cheeks burn at the implication, “but I can’t leave until Tubbo is safe.” 

     “I’ll convince you one day.” Technoblade shot back even though his heart ached, that you wouldn’t be coming home with him. But Technoblade wasn’t known for giving up. He was stubborn as hell, he’d win you over yet. You’d come home with him, he’d confess to you and he’d make you the happiest person in the world. You just...didn’t know it yet. 

     “I’m excited for the day you do Tech.” You snickered softly, you both were startled by harsh knocking on the door.

     “That’s my cue. See you soon Starlight,” Technoblade hummed slipping right out the window, you watched him go longingly. You shuffled towards the door and opened it slowly, on the front steps stood Tubbo who was rocking nervously on his feet. 

     “Hi…” 

     “Hey LR...you okay?” Tilting your head to the side,

     “Is LR supposed to stand for little ram?”

     “Problem?”

     “No…I suppose not.” He murmured before clearing his throat and straightening his back, “I wanted to talk with you.” 

     “Oh?” You raised an eyebrow watching him nod his head sternly, you walked outside and closed the door behind you so you could lean on it. “Shoot,”

You watched as Tubbo swallowed thickly, “First off I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. It wasn’t fair of me to snap.” He watched you nod a little urging him to continue, “however, I am the President now and you have to respect my authority.” Eyebrows furrowing together in frustration you opened your mouth to counter him but he held up his hand, “Dream has an idea of how to rule. He can steer me in a better direction-”

     “Pardon me?” You let out a disbelieving laugh, “A better direction? Tubbo, are you forgetting everything we all fought for, we fought him for independence. He killed us!” 

     “He might’ve changed!”

     “He exiled Tommy!” 

     “He deserved it!” Tubbo shouted back as your nose scrunched up, “He’ll steer me in a direction that you never could!” He snapped before realizing what he said, he slapped his hands over his mouth eyes widening to the size of saucers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that-” 

     “Go home Tubbo.” 

     “(Y/n) please,” He reached out towards you and you held up your hand, 

     “Go reset the day. You need rest,” You frowned, turning back into the house “see you tomorrow.” Inside the house you shut the door on him and slid down onto the floor, you brought your hands to your mouth and swallowed thickly. A part of you wished Technoblade was still here just so he could tell you to get over yourself, he wasn’t skilled in the art of comforting others, but he could make you laugh. To keep yourself sane you reminded yourself that Tubbo was a child and needed you now more than ever, especially if he thought Dream was dishing out good advice. But you were hurt and a selfish part of you wished you could just go live in retirement with Technoblade and not worry about the new country forming, but you couldn’t ditch Tubbo. 

Running a hand through your hair you sighed loudly, one might wonder what exactly could Tubbo do to make you listen to Technoblade’s offer. Honestly, you had no idea if anything would make you do that unless of course they just started executing people or something ridiculous like that. 

Restless was how you’d describe the rest of your night, you tried to sleep but after a few hours of tossing and turning you gave up. You decided to make yourself a ‘healthy’ midnight snack, a small bowl of mac & cheese, you didn’t care, you were sad. You sighed softly scratching behind your cat’s ears, “It’s just you and me against the world Taffy isn’t it?” Her purrs rang in the air as she snuggled against your hand, distracting you just enough to swipe a noddle from your bowl. “You fat bitch!” You hissed as she ran off back up the stairs, you leaned back in your chair and sighed, literally nothing was going your way today. Just as you finished up your snack you heard a soft ping upon your window, turning to the sound you noticed your neighbor Phil awake in his house. He held up a hand and waved at you through it, and with a small smile, you waved back. He shuffled back into his home, I guess you both were insomniacs together, Techno knew how to pick a certain type of friend it seemed. 

You walked back up to your bedroom and slid under the covers once more, maybe you were wrong and things were going to get better. 

Months went by and nothing seemed to change much to your disappointment. Tubbo and you were still a little rocky, you had forgiven him for his harsh words but he always put Dream’s and even Quackity’s opinion before your own. When you came back from visiting Niki one day and saw wanted posters of Technoblade all around the country you almost had a stroke. You confronted Tubbo about it and only half answered you before running off when Quackity called him. That worried you, he normally didn’t like lying, especially not to you. 

The same day you were walking into the market to get some fresh fruit when a hand shot out from the wanted poster and pulled you behind it. You were held flush against someone’s chest who chuckled gruffly, you recognized that chuckle anywhere. “Techno! What’re you doing here?” You asked looking up at him with eyes filled with concern, “don’t you know you’re a wanted man?”

     “I think that just makes this all the more exciting.” Techno mused running his fingers through your hair, “Plus it’s not like anyone here can catch me.” 

     “Wrong I could catch you.” He dared to laugh in your face, 

     “Sure you could, and I’m half sheep.” Technoblade mused and he watched you huff cutely, “Don’t get all huffy at me you know I’m right.” You only waved him off, “seriously though I’m here to do some trading with Phil.”

     “Oh…” You gave a nod, “Will I see you more frequently then?”

     “You could see me all the time if you moved in with me.” Techno joked again and was surprised to see your face fall a little. Are you serious? Was he getting you to crack? “Starlight?” 

     “Ask me again in a few months and I might say yes,” You teased brushing the question off swiftly, Technoblade didn’t pry but he could tell you were almost convinced. Just what was going on in this country to make you want to leave your little brother? “Now shoo, go see Phil before he gives up on you.” You gave him a little shove and he stumbled off with a huff sticking his tongue out at you in the process. 

After that encounter, you didn’t run into Technoblade for another very long stretch of time. About a month or so after that encounter, Tubbo had shown up at your doorstep a complete nervous wreck. He begged you to help him, claiming he needed diamonds for an upcoming project and wanted you to acquire them for him. “Tubbo I don’t understand why I need to go on this trip? I have diamonds I can just give you. You know I don’t care.” 

     “But I feel bad about it,” Tubbo argued with you “please just do this for me.”

     “You know I’ll do anything for you. If you want me to get them this way I’ll do it. I should be back tonight is that okay? Do you need them sooner?” Tubbo looked relieved as he took your hands in his own, 

     “No tonight is perfect!” The boy chirped sounding more like himself than he has in months, you couldn’t help but smile. You ruffled his hair a little before kissing his forehead, 

     “Then tonight you shall have them, Little Ram.” 

Tubbo helped you gather the materials you needed for a trip down into the mines, Tubbo even gave you some fire resistance potions. You thanked him for the potions before putting on your armor and heading down into the tunnels. As you were down in the mine the concept of time was always an illusion, so when you finally found diamonds for Tubbo and you left the cave you were surprised to see the sun was just setting. You hummed softly to yourself walking back into New L’manburg excited to show off to Tubbo you couldn’t help but wonder what he needed them for in the first place. However, when you entered town you were greeted by a gathering going on at the center. Everyone seemed to be there clad in what looked to be butcher’s outfits, your vibe was immediately thrown off eyebrows furrowing in concern. Quackity was giving some sort of speech and that finally drew your eyes towards the podium, locked inside a cage was a fuming Technoblade. You rushed towards the group, pushing past Ghostbur and a blue sheep, and grabbed tightly onto Tubbo’s arm. 

     “Tubbo what the fuck is happening?” He tensed turning towards your face. It was no secret that you and Techno were friends, this wasn’t good at all.

     “(Y/n)! You’re back early!” He spoke nervously rubbing his hands together as Quackity turned towards you, 

     “Welcome back!” Quackity hopped off the podium with a smirk, “Fundy grab them.” 

     “Quackity hey wait a minute-” Tubbo started as Fundy roughly grabbed onto your arms pinning you in place, 

     “Ow hey! Watch it! Let go of me!”

     “Get your hands off them!” Technoblade snarled nostrils flaring grabbing the bars of the cage tightly. 

     “Quackity you said we’d leave them out of this!” Tubbo argued and your jaw dropped staring at Tubbo, “You promised!” 

He waved Tubbo off with a scoff, “they’re just as bad as Phil, Tubbo. She needs to be punished. We can't play favorites when trying to run a country. We’ll execute Techno then deal with the other traitors.”

     “Execute?” You choked, “you can’t be serious! Tubbo you cannot be serious, since when are you okay with public executions?” He refused to look at you, his hair covering his eyes, he only nodded his head in Quackity’s direction. 

     “Do it.” 

     “Tubbo!” You shrieked watching Quackity grin maliciously, moving over to pull the lever that would allow the anvil to fall and crush the man below it. 

What happened next was a cluster fuck, someone began trying to set off TNT, and Quackity pulled the lever. It fell rapidly towards Techno and he pulled something out of his pocket, in a flash of bright colors and bursts of light Technoblade was ripped apart and pulled back together again. He was alive, Technoblade really doesn’t ever die. He hopped on top of the anvil and jumped the bars of the cage, Fundy had long since lost his grip on you, he noticed Dream ushering him inside a cavern and he paused a moment. The hybrid turned towards you holding out his hand one final time, the world seemed to stop a moment and it was just you and him. His face held a desperate look in it, almost pleading you to take his hand within your own. You flashed back to the day Wilbur blew the country up, Tubbo called your name you glanced over your shoulder once towards Little Ram. You reached into your bag and dropped the diamonds you found for him on the ground, you grabbed Technoblade’s hand and squeezed it tightly. Technoblade smiled and yanked you forward, leaving a heartbroken Tubbo in your wake.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade #technoblade x you #technoblade imagines #dream smp #dreamsmp x reader #dreamsmp x you #dreamsmp drabbles #dreamsmp imagines #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #minecraft fanfiction #minecraft x reader #minecraft x you #minecraft youtubers #minecraft youtuber x reader #minecraft youtuber x you #platonic tubbo x reader #angst #fanfiction #fanfic #drabbles #imagines

[after-witch]

Sweet Escape [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Sweet Escape [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: Escape isn’t easy. Nor is it very long-lasting. When Overhaul’s men drag you back into captivity, you brace yourself and wait for what your captor will do with you. 

Word Count: 7,592

Notes: yandere, kidnapped, humiliation, degradation, mentions of eating disorder behavior, improper use of household cleaning products, Overhaul is a mean man 90% of this fic is just Overhaul being an asshole to you

There are going to be bruises on your shoulders. Fingerprint shaped bruises from the men holding you steady, afraid that you'll try to sprint off--maybe afraid that you'll try to spring at their boss, disobedient, unruly possession that you are.

You know that Overhaul won't like it when he eventually sees those black-and-blue fingerprints marring your skin--he might kill them for it, or worse. They're digging in too hard, but you don't warn them to ease up lest they find themselves on the wrong end of Overhaul's hands; they brought you back to this place, after all, and they deserve nothing but your hot, raw contempt.

You could run. You could slip out of their grip, if you put your mind to it. Your clothes are wet and the medical table that you're sitting on is slippery from the rainwater that's dripped out from your soaked clothes. But Chisaki Kai--no, Overhaul, you remind yourself, for the energy he’s exuding now is very much that of a foreboding boss--is standing in front of you, and you'd never make it to the doorway.

"Leave us," Overhaul says, not bothering to move as the men gripping your shoulders release their painful hold and swiftly leave the room. He tears off a sanitizing wipe from the ever-present canister on his desk and wipes down the doorknobs that they touched, before locking the door. An unnecessary precaution, given your nerves, given your state, given your realization that your escape attempt was a massive fluke that would never be allowed to happen again.

You numbly watch as he gathers up supplies from around the makeshift clinic he'd created in the small suite of rooms he allowed you to exist in. The canister of disinfectant. Medical-grade soaps. Sponges. A bucket. Needles, needles, needles... you remember the feel of the syringe you'd stolen in your hand and distract yourself from the fear of what he's going to do to you by retracing the steps of the past day.

**

You got farther than you thought you would--really, you did. At every stage of your plan, you expected Chisaki to suddenly reveal that he knew every step you'd taken so far. That he'd catalogued every act of false obedience to lure him into relaxing the rules, that he saw you swipe the syringe of tranquilizer from the clinic when he'd left for a moment to grab a fresh pair of clothes for you, that he knew you asked to sit with him at his desk only to sneak a glance at his calendar, so you could sweetly plead for an afternoon in the garden when he would be busy, when he would surely ask a highly trusted subordinate to watch over you.

A highly trusted subordinate who knew all about your weeks of good, sweet behavior and who was none the wiser when you'd jabbed him with the syringe, plunging the medicine, the same kind your captor once used to 'calm you down' when you were having fits, right into the man’s thigh. 

You didn't hesitate: you'd dipped your hands into the man's pockets, pulled out his wallet and ran. You barely remember anything until you were in the forest--you vaguely remember using the key card to open the gates surrounding the base, you remember the fear that at any moment you would hear an alarm sound; but from there, everything was a blur as you sped into the forest wearing only the soft day shoes you'd been given to go outside.

You made it through the forest, though not without bumps and cuts and sore feet and a dimly throbbing ankle that was thankfully only turned. You ran until you reached a small town, one you'd never been in before. You buried your first instinct deep, deep, deep: do not contact the authorities. Who knows what connections Overhaul had, especially in a town so close to where he operated? So instead you waltzed into a little corner shop and made a beeline for the bathroom--where you promptly vomited out your breakfast as all of the anxiety and fear and adrenaline caught up with you in an instant.

You remember staring into the bathroom mirror afterwards, your face cold with splashed water. It was then, staring into your pale and anxious face, a face you hadn’t been allowed to see in a mirror for ages, that you felt freedom slamming back into you. You could do what you wanted, now. You were going to get your life back. You could make your own schedule and have your own hobbies back and eat what you wanted and--your stomach had gurgled, as if on cue. You had to get something to eat. But how would you pay?

The wallet you'd pilfered felt heavy in your pocket, and you opened it without a second thought. No cash. But a credit card. It would do, until you were able to get some cash of your own. You wandered back into the shop and even now, you can still feel how struck you were by how cozy, how nice, how different it felt. Just a small general store with big open windows and soft music in the background, and an old woman behind the register who immediately asked you if you needed any help finding this or that.

You smiled--a real smile, how nice that felt--and shook your head and loaded up a basket. A first-aid kit, a large water bottle, a toothbrush and toothpaste... then came the snacks. Candy. Chips. Soda. Things you hadn't tasted in so long. You even grabbed a pointless fashion magazine. The old woman had glanced at the name on the card and you offered a sheepish smile, a fake one that made you feel a pang of guilt for lying to her: "My boyfriend sent me to do the shopping. He's no good at this stuff." She'd smiled and nodded, oh I understand dear, before packing up your order.

You stepped out into the sunshine--you can't pretend like you remember how it feels, right now, shivering from the damp rain on this table--and took a deep breath of fresh air. It smelled crisp and sweet and clean. Not the sterile cleanliness of your captor's clinic, but truly pure--real. There was a slight tinge to the air, and you spotted grey clouds on the horizon. Not an omen, no: just another sign that you were outside, you were in nature, you were free. The smell was the promise of thunder, of electricity, of cool rain.

It also smelled like... well, lunch. Or more precisely, you smelled the vague scents of the little pizza shop a few shops down.

And here is where you made, looking back, your biggest mistake. You should have headed to a bus station. Or called for a taxi. You should have gotten the hell out of there right that second. But your mind flashed back to Overhaul's little calendar, the words printed neatly in the little square for today: he would be away until the evening, which meant you (surely, surely) had a few more hours before he came back and discovered your escape.

He’d ordered no one to bother you and your now-unconscious guard in the garden, so if no one saw you run out, then an alarm certainly wouldn’t raised for a while. You had time, didn't you? Time to grab a meal? You could always get it to go, and you could even ask an employee inside about buses or taxes. Yes, it was fine--you would get a few slices to go and hop on a bus and leave forever. More than that, it was practical. You needed energy, and the junk in your bag--while undoubtedly delicious--wasn't going to be enough to sustain you for long.

The door to the pizza place dinged when you entered, and you almost teared up at the normality of it. It was a buffet style place, with rows of pizzas under yellow-cast lights and rows of red booths and people lifting slices onto their plates with shared tongs. Unusual for a small town, but maybe it was a remnant from a more bustling time, when American-style pizza places were all the rage. For a moment, your thoughts had turned back to your captivity: Overhaul would have never set foot into a place like this--nor would he have let you. Germs, germs, everywhere. And you loved it.

You paid with the card, but there was no need for excuses this time--the young man behind the register didn't even check for a name or signature, much less ask for identification. You asked about a to-go box and he'd shrugged, mumbled out an apology--they didn't do that here. You have to eat inside.

For a moment, the rational part of your mind screamed: get the hell out of here, then! But your stomach growled, and hunger beckoned, and damn if that row of glistening pizza slices didn't make you want to eat. And eat.  And… eat. You shoved repressed thoughts deep down, your heart hammering all the while, and took a tentative step towards the buffet. Thunder rumbled as you debated. You could be out of here in... 30 minutes? Enough time to eat--to binge, your mind whispered, you can now--and maybe get it out after? Yes, it would be fine. (It would not. Future you, the one sitting on the table and watching in increasing anxiety as Overhaul finishes up his tasks, wishes she could tell you.)

You should have seen the start of the rain, sudden and relentless, as a bad sign. Instead you ignored it and filled up a large cup with diet soda that spilled a little when you forgot to let go of the button. You ate without thinking, not even really enjoying the taste of the first greasy pizza slices you’d had in ages.

You were on your fifth slice when the restaurant doors dinged, but the sense of small town charm was overrun by the immediate realization that you were caught. You were fucked. The air thickened--were you the only one to notice?--as two men in slim suits entered the restaurant with an air of immediacy. You were spotted in a second, if that. You thought about running.

But then you thought about the bored teenager behind the register and the old man cutting up his wife's pizza slices because she had trouble chewing and the little girl stacking up pepperonis while her mom chatted on the phone and you resigned yourself. You didn’t want anyone else to get hurt…even if it meant giving in. You didn't struggle, couldn't struggle, and let them lead you swiftly outside where the torrent of rain soaked you immediately  as they pushed you down the block, where an unmarked car waited. You glanced up helplessly as the cloudy sky and rain streamed down your face before you were unceremoniously pushed into the backseat.

Overhaul was sitting inside, staring at you with an intensity you've never seen before.

**

Your backpack drops with a thump next to you and you flinch out of your memories.

"Let's see what you bought with that stolen card during your little adventure."  His voice is deceptively calm. He must be furious with you, you think. And you can't believe you didn't think about credit fraud alerts before you used the damn card.

The noise of the zipper is thunderous and you scoot yourself back on the exam table, pressing against the wall to put a little more room--even if it's only inches--between you and your captor. He begins to pull everything out of the bag, one by one, and seeing it all lined up makes it clear what type of lecture is coming.

A few bags of chips, a bottle of soda, bars of chocolate, all junk, junk, junk. All food he would never permit you to eat, and certainly not in such quantities.

"Disgusting," he murmurs, before tossing each item into a trash bin kept against the wall, one by one. You cringe at the sound of each bag, each bottle, hitting the bottom of the trash. You didn't even get to taste them. He stares at the trash, eyes narrowed, as if the food itself was worthy of his venom. "Full of unnecessary sugars and fats and oils. Eating so much of this will make you sick. We've talked about this."

You say nothing. You press your lips together. You won't give him the satisfaction of argument. You won't let him pretend like he has any right to lecture you on what you eat, and certainly not what you eat after you've escaped (however briefly) from his clutches.

"At least you didn't have time to ingest them during your ill-planned escape, hm?" He replaces his previous gloves--tainted with the thought of germs on the junk food bags, no doubt--and your stomach flips at the sound of the medical gloves he's snapped on in their place. "Which is more than I can say for the pizza." You never knew someone could say pizza with such a ridiculously nasty tone, but you've learned a lot of things during your captivity.

"You weren't content with this junk hoard," he says, gesturing towards the trash while keeping his eyes firmly on you. "You had to gorge yourself on greasy pizza from a dirty buffet, too? We are going to clean your mouth out, by the way.”

You hate the way he says gorge--you hate the way he says greasy--you hate the anxiety that comes with wondering what he’ll do to ‘clean’ your mouth. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him. The hate makes you answer defensively, despite your earlier resolution to stay quiet. You can't help yourself, in a lot of ways.

"I was hungry," you say, still feeling defiant.

"No one working on their fifth slice of pizza is hungry," he answers, simply. You feel diminished, but not enough to shut you up.

"So? It's not your business what I eat anyway.” A familiar tightness is springing to your throat. You don't want to cry in front of him ever again, so you clip the words out, fighting to retain control.

He presses a fist to his forehead in a sudden, rather surprising show of frustration. "Not my business? Not my business? It's my business to take care of you. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you out there?"

The fullness in your stomach, the cold rain soaking you, the remembrance of the wind and branches lashing at you as you ran hours before, all these freedoms have made you feel bold. Or maybe you're succumbing to the effects of an adrenaline crash and you just can't control your mouth.

"I could have been free. You can’t--you can't just keep me here. You can't just kidnap someone and decide you know what's best for them."

There's a long, steady pause as he stares at you. His expression--what you can see from his eyes--is blank, and you almost wonder if perhaps you've stumped him.

"I can," he says, lightly. Easily.

Fucker.

He sighs, and you get the distinct impression that you’re a nuisance, something to deal with, something he’s having to deal with instead of doing far more important things. "You’re showing a severe lack of appreciation for all the work I do to take care of you."

You don't know how to respond to that. "You kidnapped me.” It’s all you can think of--the bare truth.

He doesn't speak at first. Then he lifts something from the supply tray he's set up--a blue hospital gown, thin and short, and tosses it towards you. You catch it instinctively, feeling the thin, feather-light material in your fingers. He tosses a towel, next, and you hold it against your damp chest. He turns around.

"Change."

You don't want to. You don't want to. But you've never pressed your luck on what would happen if you refused to get dressed before, afraid that he might do it himself, and that fear overrides any thoughts of outright rebellion. For now. You slide off your wet clothes and push them towards the end of the table, then use the towel to dry off your skin. There are scratches and bruises, including a nasty looking one that's already turning green on your ankle. Your feet are swollen from running on the hard forest floor with your thin day shoes.

When you're finished, you clear your throat, and he turns back around. He tosses your wet clothes right into the trash--damn, you liked that shirt--and wipes off the table with a separate towel. You sit, legs dangling off the table, and wish he'd just get the punishment or examination or whatever it is he has planned over with. You can feel the coldness of the table through the medical gown, and its thinness makes you feel even more helpless. Weak. You want to retain that feeling of freedom that you had earlier in the day. Even choosing to return without a fight, choosing to avoid hurting the innocent people in that town, made you feel bold.

He stands in front of you until you force yourself to look up, to get it over with. He's swapped out his mask for a medical one.

"Have I ever hurt you?"

You hate this.

"No," you admit, voice tight. "Not physically," you add spitefully, because fuck him for trying to make himself sound like a decent person because he kidnapped you but didn't happen to hit you.

"Do I take care of you?" His tone is firm, commanding. It leaves no room for silences. Instead, it makes your stomach feel light, makes your heart feel like it wants to race.

"I can do that on my own," you counter.

"Can you?" He says, voice dripping in condescension.

"Yes," you spite, bile rising into your throat. "I can take care of myself."

He reaches back and grabs the little stool he keeps in this room, rolling it up to rest in front of the table and in front of you. He sits down and cups his hands together, resting them on his thigh. He leans forward. An easy gesture. Like he wants to have a conversation. But something about his movements sends out warning signals. Big, glaring, flashing warning lights that scream DANGER.

“You can take care of yourself.” It’s a statement, yet the way he says it is brutally mocking.

“I can,” you insist, your voice cracking just the slightest bit under his gaze.

"So, where would you live?" He watches you intently and it takes a moment for you to realize what he just asked you. He isn't offering you freedom, no. But maybe you can win an argument, just this once, and forcibly stop his delusions that he's "taking care of you."

"Anywhere," you say, but he looks unimpressed. "An apartment," you correct. "Like my old one. Doesn't have to be big." Your heart pangs with nostalgia for your old place, for your independence, for your life.

"Ah." Overhaul brings a gloved finger up to his chin and rests is there, nodding, as if he's seriously considering your words. "And how will you pay for rent at this apartment?"

You can't resist the snarky tone. "A job."

He rests both hands on his thighs. "Tell me, how much did you make at your last job, again? No--tell me, how long did you hold your last job?" You cross your arms defensively around your waist as he continues. "If I recall correctly, you were fired rather quickly from that one... and the one before."

You squeeze your waist, hoping for the tiniest bit of comfort from the gesture. "I... it wasn’t my fault.” You feel like you’re under a magnifying glass. “The first time. And the second, well, I was looking for something better, anyway."

He raises his eyebrows, curious. "Looking where? At the bottom of a bottle?"

Your entire body tenses.

"After all," he continues, voice almost taking on a syrupy sweet tone. "Your fridge was so well-stocked with them. Hmm. Do you think it's responsible to spend so much money on alcohol when you're behind on rent payments?"

"No," you say, voice tighter, "But--"

He doesn't give you a chance to finish. He stands, and you immediately squeeze your arms again. "And how much were you spending on other luxuries? Those clothes you kept carelessly shoved in your closet... they were a name brand, weren't they?"

Your throat is dry and your mouth is dry and you lick your lips. "There were sales," you insist.

"Ohh," he says, his voice lifting in mockery. "And I bet there were sales on the jewelry, the trinkets, the--" his eyes drift upwards, an implication of his disdain, "--figurines."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I'm allowed to buy things that I like."

He begins to pace. Not aimlessly, no, nothing with him is ever aimless. He paces until he stops in front of you, turning to face you for effect.

"What happens if you're late on three rent payments? Remind me of the policy that decrepit building you called an apartment complex had."

You squirm on the table. "I was only behind on two--"

"What happens?" His voice is firm. You can't avoid it.

There's a pause before you murmur, unwillingly. "You get evicted."

"So." He takes another step, and turns back towards you. "Do you think it's responsible to spend money you don't have on luxuries, when you're behind on rent?"

You want to run. Maybe you should have run at him earlier. Getting tossed into a solitary room after attacking him might be better than this interrogation.

"No," you admit. You swallow, dry and thick and a bit painful. "Okay. I'm not great with money. I bought things to make me happy because I was stressed out about---life. It's not that big a deal. I--I didn't get kicked out, anyway."

He sits again, but keeps himself upright, the air of faux casualness replaced with an air of command. "How did you catch up on your rent? Tell me."

You hate him. You stare at him, hoping he'll end this, but he simply stares at you until you blurt out the words. "You paid my landlord. Anonymously." You stare down at the floor, at the drops of water still there from earlier. "I didn't ask you to. I would have figured something out."

"I'm sure."

He stands, and you stare at the wall until you hear him roll the tray of supplies towards the table. Your body trembles of its own accord when he grabs your arm firmly and wraps a blood pressure cuff around the top. You sit in silence as the cuff gets tighter then mercifully deflates.

He tsks at the number, and jots it down on the pad resting on the table. For once, you're not tempted to peek.

"I need to take some blood," he says, and you stick out your arm in automatic, habitual compliance before your brain even realizes it. He grips your wrist firmly while he swipes your arm with an anti-bacterial agent.

"How much do you weigh?" He asks suddenly, voice nonchalant.

You stare at him, incredulous. He's never brought up weight before. He’s always been careful to avoid details about weight, nutrition--calories. The most he would do is point out that you need a well-rounded diet with the right vitamins and nutrients, and ignore your questions about sauces and cooking oils and grams, all attempts to find out something that could give you an ounce of control over what’s going into your body.

"I--I don't know.  You don't let me look at the scale when I step on it." He knows this. He knows that he's forbidden you from seeing the number, because he knows about your past, knows your tendency to get obsessive and strict and focus on food and weight and worth.

"Why don't I let you look at the scale?"

Your stomach feels like it's twisting.

"I don't know." The lie is bitter on your tongue.

The casual tone in his voice when he replies is far more biting than any cruel insult. "Yes, you do." 

His words are punctuated by the harsh medicinal smell of the next wipe. But you're in no mood to appreciate that he's still choosing to numb your skin despite your earlier transgressions.

The tears you felt building earlier begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. You don't want to cry, you don't want to cry, you don't want to cry.

“Why don’t I let you look at the scale?” He repeats, firmer, more insisting. He winds a band around your arm and taps at your veins.

Your arm looks fatter, like this. You swear it does. You look away to avoid your arm and the needle and his gaze.

“Because, um, I sometimes have problems with food. Or weight. Or whatever.”

“You have an eating disorder,” he tells you, all business as he plunges the needle into your skin; there’s only the ghost of a sting as he begins to slowly draw your blood. But you barely feel it, you can only feel the impact of his words, blunt and hateful.

"You were going to throw up in that germ-infested hovel. Eat until your stomach was distended, then head into a bathroom--which I'm sure the staff hadn't cleaned in ages--and stick your unwashed, greasy fingers down your throat until it all came back up. Am I correct?"

You can't tell if you feel woozy because of the needle or the way that your heart is racing at his words. Throw up. Greasy. Disgusting. You're disgusting.

"Stop it," you say, voice muddled with humiliation and anger.

He pulls the needle out, and quickly presses a bandage to your skin. He keeps a finger there, firm and pressing. He looks up at you, now, as he continues his onslaught.

"And then what? Let me make an educated guess. You were going to get on some filthy bus and open up all the junk you bought earlier? Perhaps," he muses, as he rips off a piece of tape to keep the gauze in place, "you could have asked the bus driver to stop at a public bathroom for a vomit break. And you'd probably make sure that whatever flea-ridden hotel you found along the way had a scale in the bathroom so you could keep track. And another one of your delightful," he practically spits the word out, "cycles would have started, hm?"

"Stop it," you repeat, voice breaking. "I wasn't--I wouldn't have--"

"You were going to," he says simply, interrupting. "Thankfully, we got there in time. Although I'm sure now you will endure a stomach ache after your reckless indulgence. A lesson, perhaps, though not the exact one I would inflict myself."

As if on cue, your stomach rolls and clenches. You’re keenly aware that you’re going to have digestive problems tonight, and the thought of being at his mercy while you’re dealing with them threatens to send you over the edge.  Could you get even more disgusting? The thought of how you look right now, stomach no doubt bulging, hair disheveled and damp, covered in ugly bruises and cuts--combined with the fear of spending the night on a toilet sends you over the edge.

You press your knuckles against your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut and try to force the sobs down. Your body begins to tremble, even more so as he lifts your leg. Without warning, he begins to unceremoniously scrub it down with a sponge dipped in disinfectant.

It stings and your eyes feel like they might pop at the sudden pain. You hiss at the feeling of the liquid on your cuts and try to pull away, to no avail. Your legs feel like jelly in his grip.

“That hurts,” you whine. 

“It can’t be helped,” he tells you, holding your leg firmly as he scrubs the sore bottom of your feet. Any sensitivity you had there is overruled by the soreness and pain from running, from the stinging aches that remain in your cuts. “I have to clean every cut or you may get an infection.”

He sets your leg down and lifts up the other, and you cringe before he even begins to move. You can’t help but whimper as he scrubs your leg, and the helpless stings of pain only increase when he moves on to your arms.

“Please,” you say, feeling low, nearly flattened. “I can’t… I can’t take this.”

He pauses, and the seemingly genuine concern in his eyes (it’s not, you remind yourself, it’s not--you think of the shop and the pizza place and the old man cutting his wife’s food, that was concern, that was care) has you feeling sorry for yourself.

“The stinging will go away in a few minutes. You chose to run away, you can certainly deal with this minor consequence.” He retains his grip on your upper arm and he swipes the sponge across your shoulders, briefly pushing the fabric aside as he does so. He pauses when he sees the blooming fingerprints on your shoulders, but says nothing.  You wonder if those men will survive the night.

There’s a a cut, thin and long, dragging from your collarbone down across your chest. He dips unceremoniously below the gown, touching you in a spot he normally avoids. The feeling of him so close, touching you--not quite on your chest, but close enough--only intensifies your humiliation. You whimper again and try to pull away, but his grip offers no room to move.

“I can’t--” You don’t finish. Your throat is so tight and you hate it, you hate that you can never talk about anything with him, never argue with him without clamming up with tears and a thick throat.

You bring your hands up to your hair, tugging on it until it prickles. Your breath starts to come in short bursts, your chest having as you pull on your hair and will yourself to be anywhere but here. For a flashing moment, you wish you’d never tried to escape. If you didn’t, you’d be getting ready for bed right now. Things would be--not okay. Never okay. But you wouldn’t be here, on this table, cold and stinging and in pain and utterly despondent from having your failures shoved in your face. But then you remember that if he’d never kidnapped you, you wouldn’t have had to try to escape in the first place, and the wish fades.

He remains silent, and instead simply keeps a steady, firm grip on your upper arm until your breath slows, until you can control yourself. Your skin feels at once numb and prickling in anxiety and adrenaline and emotions coursing through you.

Overhaul gives your arm a squeeze that is, perhaps, meant to be reassuring. “Are you suitably recovered?

You nod. Your stomach feels sour. You want to ask if you’re done, if you can just go sleep or get sent (you dread the idea) to solitary confinement or whatever it is he has planned in the wake of your escape. Anything would be better than this room and this soft, thin gown and his bright blue surgical gloves and your failure hanging in the air.

He extends his arm out and you pause for a moment before you grasp it, holding tight as you get off the table and stand on wobbly legs. You’re loathe to touch him, but you’re even more loathe to fall flat on your face on the hard floor.

He speaks before you get a chance to ask if you can change out of the medical gown.

“Now, we’ll go to the bathroom.”

Your knees suddenly feel like they might drop out from under you. “The bathroom?”

He nods, and pulls himself away from your weak grip as he begins walking towards the door. You follow without thinking, pausing when he stops to slide his medical gloves into the trash before slipping on another pair.

“We’re not finished here,” he tells you, and you swear his voice is almost giddy as he turns his head to meet your questioning face. “I told you earlier, we’re going to clean your mouth out.”

He can’t mean--

You take a step back, and your knee buckles. He’s quick--he catches you before you fall, but doesn’t let go. His pulls you upright and pulls you along. Your legs have no choice to walk--walk or be dragged--and you struggle for words as he leads you out of the clinic. Before you know it, you’re back in your room (familiar, warm, the same as it ways this morning) and led swiftly into the attached bathroom.

He pulls you in far enough that he’s able to shut the door behind him, trapping you inside. As if you wouldn’t be trapped by his mere presence. For a moment you wonder if he was bluffing, trying to scare you into submission, but by the time you take another breath he’s running the sink water and tearing into a new box of bar soap.

Your voice catches as you finally speak up. “You--you can’t be serious.”

“What makes you think I’m not serious?” He doesn’t even face you as he speaks. Instead, he turns on the tap and fills a paper cup with water before setting it on the sink’s edge. Next comes the bar of white soap, which grows slick underneath the water. He turns off the tap and lets the excess water drip off, before turning to you, soap bar in hand.

“Open your mouth.”

Your lips press together automatically, and you shake your head. No, no, and no. This isn’t happening.

He sighs, and again the feeling that you’re annoying him creeps under your skin. Why does it bother you that you’re annoying him? It shouldn’t bother you at all, but somehow you feel a pang of regret at how much has changed in less than 24 hours. 

“If you don’t open your mouth willingly, I will open it for you.” He takes a step closer, but your legs feel heavy now, rooted to the spot. It isn’t like there’s anywhere you could run, anyway. “I don’t want to do that,” he continues, voice slightly softened. “Cooperate and open your mouth.”

What choice do you have? You could protest, you could argue, you could leap into the bathtub and make him fight for what he wants. You could keep your mouth shut tight and force him to find a solution. But he is stronger than you, in more ways than one, and he would get his way in the end.

So you make the only choice available to you. Your entire mouth shakes and seems to fight against you as you slowly open your lips in compliance. You feel stupid, standing here with your mouth hanging open.

You can’t reflect on the feeling for long, as he wastes no time in shoving the bar inside your open lips. You can’t help but whimper at the intrusion, but he doesn’t let up and begins methodically scrubbing at your tongue. At first, there’s no taste--then the built-up slick of clinical soap makes itself known, and you take advantage of the soap slipping out of your lips to press them together again, denying him entry.

“Open,” he orders, soft and firm.

And you do, heaving your shoulders in an unreleased whimper. What else can you do but listen? He continues to scrub, this time moving the bar into the side of your mouth to scrub at your teeth. The clammy, greasy feeling of soap coating your teeth makes you curl your wide open lips downward. You must look ridiculous, in all respects, lips gaping in an unpleasant frown as your captor mercilessly soaps the inside of your mouth.

“Do you not like the taste?” His eyes glance over at your frown, and the mockery in his tone is more than blatant. 

“Uhh-uhh,” you mumble, open-mouthed, shaking your head. The position you’re in--Overhaul scrubbing into your mouth, your shaking body, the dim feeling of your bruises and cuts from earlier--makes you feel so painfully exposed. So painfully helpless.

He hums and rests the soap against your tongue. Before you can attempt to move your tongue, lessen the feeling of the taste of the soap against it, he gives you a command.

“Bite down.”

Your teeth sink into the soft bar, keeping it in place, and your whimpers grow stronger at the humiliating order you’ve just obeyed. Could you sink any lower?

You watch him through tear-brimmed eyes as he moves to stand in front of you. You know what’s coming before he even speaks and when he does, it’s no surprise.

“Have I ever hurt you?”

Back to this, again.

You shake your head, mumble around the soap: “No.”

“Are you capable of being on your own?”

You hesitate, and he merely jumps to another question, one far more pointed.

“Have you held a single job for longer than a year?”

You want to protest, but any attempt at complicated speech is marred by the soap--the weight of it, the taste, and your need to keep it steady in your mouth.

“No,” you admit, hating the feel of the bar as your lips press against it with the effort of speech.

“Would you have been evicted if I didn’t pay off your debts?”

“Yes.” Tears sting at your eyes. You want to wipe them away but you’re afraid you’ll get soap in them, somehow.

“Are you responsible enough with money to hold a job, maintain an apartment, and buy yourself the necessities for life without someone else stepping in?”

The soap somehow tastes even more bitter. “No, I can’t.” Your tongue pushes up against the soap at this, and you resolve to keep it to one-word answers only.

“If we didn’t intercept your little outing, would you have attempted to throw up at that restaurant today?”

You shake your head, but it’s a lie, and you know it’s a lie--and he knows it’s a lie. So you nod, weakly. “Mm-hmm.”

“Have I been feeding you healthy meals? Have I been ensuring that you don’t engage in disgusting self-destructive behaviors?”

He has, but that’s not--your mind wants to argue, but you’re so tired and sick and your stomach hurts and the taste of the soap is too much. So you nod, instead.

He nods in response, and you pray that he’ll take the soap out and end this. Instead, he lifts your chin with a single finger, making you keep eye contact as he speaks.

“Do I take care of you?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your words garbled around the wet soap bar. He releases your chin and it’s these words, this final question, that make you break entirely. Your shoulders ache from bruises as you cry, hunching over slightly and watching as some drool-laden soap droplets fall on the floor. “Yes, yes, yes,” you repeat, mechanically, crying around the bitter soap that’s digging into your front teeth.

Satisfied, he takes hold of the bar and waits for you to release it, then tosses it with ease into the trash. You blubber and spit, only succeeding in releasing a trail of soapy drool down your chin. Your tears are hot and stinging as they roll down your cheeks. You open your mouth, you try to say something, but all that comes out is soft cries punctuated by your attempts to spit out the soapy film.  

“Look at you,” he murmurs, bringing a gloved hand up to your cheek and wiping at the tears. “My poor thing. You can’t even speak. You can’t even articulate yourself. How could you ever hope to make it on your own?” His words are soft and cruel and you merely cry harder, humiliated and helpless.

Your throat is sore. Your stomach hurts. You want your warm nightgown on. You want to be in bed. You wish your stomach didn’t hurt so much from eating junk. You wish you weren’t covered in cuts and bruises. You wish you’d just enjoyed the garden and went back inside. You wish you’d never done this at all. You’re so stupid. You’re so stupid.

And you finally say so, all of it, blubbering, bits of soapy drool dribbling out of your mouth as you cry and admit your faults out loud.

After your wrought-out apology dissolves into meaningless whimpers, Overhaul finally grabs the glass of water he set on the edge of the sink, and you gratefully swish the lukewarm liquid with earnest. You lean over the sink and spit, body trembling, then fill the cup again and repeat the gesture again and again to get rid of every bit of white soap stuck in your mouth. Even as you spit, you realize that the taste isn’t going to be completely gone anytime soon--it’s stuck in your mouth like a bad memory.

You jerk when his hands are suddenly on your back, rubber gloves sliding up and down the thin medical gown covering your cold, helpless body. But he merely keeps rubbing, gentle and soothing, while you swish and spit, and cry and cry.

His hands leave your back only to grab a washcloth from the built-in shelves across from the toilet. You watch as he wets the cloth and you stand silently, allowing him to wipe up the drool and soap from your chin, your neck, even a bit on your chest where it dribble-dropped downward.

When you’re all cleaned up, he fills up a cup with mouth wash and silently hands it to you. You gratefully swish it for as long as possible before spitting it into the sink. The soap taste is still there, but lessened somewhat by the overpowering mint of the mouthwash. He gestures to your toothbrush and you pick it up, and begin mechanically brushing your teeth, stopping when the 2-minute timer flashes on the bottom. You instinctively grab your floss without having to be told and make quick work of that, too.

He opens the door to the bathroom, but gestures for you to wait. You do, standing numbly, wishing that he let you have a mirror so you could see your own state. But he doesn’t, and you can’t, and so you wait until he returns with a bundle in his arms.

It’s your pajamas. A soft, pink nightgown--he didn’t pick the soft blue one, tonight, and you’re grateful to avoid any reminders of the medical gown you have on--with matching socks and underwear. You nod and accept the bundle meekly. He turns around and you make quick work of the medical gown, tossing it in the trash yourself before you get dressed for bed.

“M’done,” you mumble, though you quickly realize speaking makes the lingering soap taste stronger. You follow him silently out of the bathroom and into your bedroom, which is just as you left it that morning. The only thing different is you. Subdued, humiliated, helpless.

Overhaul pulls the cover on your bed and you sit down, numb and chastened. You pull your legs up and tuck them under the soft comforter. You’re forcing yourself into the routine you’ve been following for the past few weeks, but the secret thrill you once had of obeying with ulterior movies is no longer there. It’s been replaced by a heavy stillness, the knowledge that you failed in more ways than one. The occasional roll of your stomach reminds you that the night may not be over, bedtime routine be damned.

But you ignore it for now, and you lean your head back on your pillow as he pulls the comforter towards your shoulders, tucking you in. Rather than leave immediately, he sits next to you on the bed, looking down at you with an obsessive, possessive expression in his eyes.

You force down an instinctive flinch when he suddenly begins to stroke the top of your forehead, moving up to pet your hair softly. His gloves are gone. While not completely new, it’s rare--rare enough that the feeling of his bare fingers is still an unusual sensation.

You close your eyes. It usually makes him leave faster. Your heart begins to pound as you hear him stand, as you sense him leaning in, as you feel the ghost of his breath against your face.

“Sweet dreams. We’ll start fresh in the morning.”

What a silly thing to say, you think. Your dreams are never sweet anymore.

#yandere overhaul #yandere chisaki kai #yandere #yandere x reader #overhaul x reader #afterwitch writes #uhh I added 2000 words in between last night and now

[tommyspeakycap]

HF for how Tommy feels on his daughters wedding day please

first half is headcanons and the second half is a lil blurb!

tommy is quite literally distraught

like that’s no exaggeration he is literally heart broken

his baby, his whole world was getting married

for the past 20 years, you had been tommy shelby’s whole world

you were born when tommy was only 17

not even an adult yet himself

so it felt as though you had been with him most of his life

it had kind of just been you and him, in a sense

of course there was the rest of the clan too, and you were incredibly close to them as well

but your mother died in childbirth, so tommy was both mum and dad

he had to do it all alone in that sense

everyone tells him he should be so proud of how he raised you

because you’re sweet and kind

and you have that humour that the war took from tommy

you made people laugh like he had

and you were really the only person that could make him laugh

you were strong, like your mother tommy had always said

but you credit everything you are to him

he was the first man to love you, and teach you how you should be loved

he also taught you how you should be treated, generally a lot better than the average father would

tommy made sure that his daughter would be treated like a queen

you were his princess

so whomever you were to marry, you would be treated as their queen

he made absolutely sure of that

and that marrying was your choice

not something you were coerced into for money or business, but something you wanted

and it was

with a man who you had loved since 16

tommy liked him as much as he could like the man that was going to be taking his baby girls hand and changing her name

the thought of you not being (y/n) shelby, tommy shelby’s little princess, was earth shattering to him

although you had insisted you were keeping it in the middle

alas, tommy knew you were so loved by that man

be that as it may, all parties knew if he stepped a foot out of line or raised a finger in anything but gentility and love

then he would be struck down in a timely and violent fashion by tommy himself

tommy definitely cries that day too

“Tommy?” Grace’s voice immediately draws his attention towards her and away from his thoughts about the impending fact his little girl was getting married in half an hour. His eyes are that kind of wet that shows he’s fighting tears, that he won’t dare let them fall. Grace can see the lump he tries to swallow in his throat and a piece of her heart breaks for him as she sits down on the bench next to him outside the hall where the ceremony would take place. You were inside getting the dress on and getting your hair done with Polly and Ada and previously Grace before she had come out to see if her husband was okay.

He was not.

“Oh Tommy,” Her voice is so soft and caring as she wraps her arm around him and rubs his shoulder, hugging him to her slightly. “She looks so beautiful Tom, and god she’s so happy; can’t stop smiling at all. She still has that smile you talk about, the innocent one and it looks just like yours does sometimes.” Tommy clenches his jaw tightly, still refusing to let those tears go. She sees him clamp down his teeth over his bottom lip to stop it trembling. “It’s alright Tommy, this is good. She’s in love with a man who loves her so much. Almost as much as you do.”

Tommy shakes his head at that, one hand on his knee to brace himself as he tries to speak. “Not possible.” He snips, “And i loved her first.”

His voice breaks on that. The lip finally trembles and he hangs his head with a sharp inhale to let free that shoulder shaking sob. “She was my little baby. How is that my little girl in there? She used to-” Tommy had to pause again, roughly wiping his hand over his face to clear away the tears as he looks up at Grace, “She used to be this big,” he gestures with his hands in a way that she imagined was meant to be him cradling a baby. His voice sounds drastically different than she’s used to because it’s clouded by his tears and his agony.

“She used to ask me to brush her teeth and comb her hair and lift her up to wash her hands,” he bleats, images flashing through his mind of that short little girl who couldn’t reach the bathroom sink. He sees the little girl who stood on top of the toilet so he could brush those teeth and he can see the smile that little girl gave him all those nights when he asked to see to make sure he had brushed them right. “She used to climb into my bed every morning and she used to save up her tooth fairy money to buy us all gifts. She’d save food from her dinner for the dogs on the street and i swear on my life i don’t know how to live without her being my baby girl, Grace.” Tears continue to stream down his cheeks as Grace notices the black and white photograph that looked truly as though it had been through the war; as it had. it was stained and slightly run and it was crumpled. A little girl with a toothless grin and Tommy Shelby’s eyes, even with the lack of colour to the old photograph.

“It’s alright Tommy,” Grace hums, rubbing her husbands back soothingly, “She’s your little girl, she always will be.” She knew there was really nothing else she could say that would ease his pain. There was nothing anyone could do or say that would send you back to the little girl he would could throw over his shoulder and run around the house with. There was nothing that could ease the pain of a fathers aching heart when his baby girl becomes a woman who doesn’t need him like she used to.

“Thomas?”

He and Grace look up at Polly. The look in her eyes speaks for her . “She’s ready?” Tommy asks, prompting his aunt to nod her head with a smile. “Come on then, Tom!” Arthur calls from the grand doorway at the top of the steps to the hall. When Tommy and Grace reach him, Arthur wraps his arm roughly around his brothers shoulder and pulls Tommy into him. “Baby (y/n) getting fuckin’ married eh? Can’t fuckin’ believes she’s this fuckin grown up.” He shakes his head, taking his arm away from his brother when they reach the door of the dressing room where you were waiting. “Beautiful she is, Tom.” Arthur says, “Looks just like mum. In you go.” He ushers his younger brother in that door.

Nobody sees Tommy Shelby quite like you do, and he’s happy for it to stay that way. He’s known it since you were a tiny little girl wrapped up in his arms. He doesn't love anyone like he loves you, so it makes full sense that you are the only person in the world who he allows his vulnerability to fully leak through with. Although, he probably couldn't prevent it even if he tried.

Maybe that’s why he doesn't fight so hard to keep his eyes from welling up when he sees you standing there looking in the mirror, donned in the most beautiful white wedding gown that he’s ever seen. Placed in his hand is the stunning light veil that he had picked out for you. The headband was something like a tiara, because you were his princess and he truly believed that everything you had should be the best the world could offer. The dress too had been extortionate and you would never have gotten it had you known the price it had come to, but Tommy had never allowed you to know. He simply had the designers bring an array of dresses to his estate where you tried them all on with Polly, Ada, Lizzie, Grace, Linda and Esme to comment and complement each dress, as well ad aide you on picking the one that suited you the most with cost never a mention. Tommy had preached he ‘no expense spared’ approach the whole way through the planning of the wedding and any timenhe caught you trying to cut or manage costs, he simply shut you down and enforced the rule that the wedding planner was no longer allowed to discuss prices with you. 

He had truly created the most fantastical day for you, and he would have spent every single penny that he had if it meant giving you the most beautiful start to a new life that he could give. 

You had wanted him to be the one to place that veil on your head with the guidance of your hair dresser to ensure he didn't mess up the design of your hair. He had been the one to place little plastic tiaras on your head when you were merely a little girl who wanted to play princess dress up. He used to be the one to comb back your hair and twirl you around that Watery Lane kitchen with Arthur did the same with Ada and Polly laughed heartily from her seat at the table. 

It felt right to have him put a tiara on you one last time as baby Shelby. 

“You’re beautiful.” He breathes, his lips stretching into a wide and incredibly proud smile. “So, so very beautiful my darling.” Your cheeks blush ever so slightly and you lean over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, dad.” 

He wants to hug you tightly and never let you go. He wants to will and wish you back to the little girl that he used to twirl around all afternoon. He missed that little girl so much. He had so much love in his heart for you, so much that it overwhelmed him every time he had tried to acknowledge it over the course of your life. 

“I love you.” he says, his shaky voice conveying how much he actually means those words. “So much more than you can ever know. I’m going to miss you so much.” 

You breathe a short laugh, shaking your head at him. “I’m not going anywhere, dad. I’ll still be seeing you all the time. I’ll just have a different name.” You hold his hand tightly in yours as he leads you out of the dressing room and into the hall towards the large double doors that would take you to the isle. 

“Mhm,” he hums, “I suppose. You’ll understand what I mean someday. I just love you so much.” 

“I love you too.” 

“You two ready to go?” The wedding planner asks, watching as you turn to Tommy somewhat excitedly and nod. “You ready dad?” You ask, giving his had a reassuring squeeze. He sighs heavily, but nods his head too, removing his hand from yours and moving his arm so that you can link yours through his. His play on his mind before he says them, a small smile too playing on his lips as the nickname that he used to call you runs through his memory.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, my little love.” 

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby x sister reader #tommy shelby x sister!reader #shelby sister #shelby sister reader #shelby!reader

[naoyas90dayfiance]

+18 | The night before | Naoya Zen'in x Reader

NSFW, so graphic

Naoya Zen'in x GN! Reader

Word count: 2.5k of porn

Warning: female-bodied reader, and Naoya uses you like a fleshlight but lovingly.

Summary: Naoya can't keep his hands to himself the night before your wedding so he ends up taking you in three different ways.

Author's note: I tried to write pornography but I ended up making this funny.

Author's note II: Naoya knocks you over with his cock, for real. Read it

Naoya's beautiful face was resting in his palm; his gaze went through the window as the piano in front of him remained quiet. His eyes fixed on the entrance of your room, which he could see perfectly from his spot.

His breathing was calm as his whole body focused on following your shadow reflected on the thin sliding doors. He saw how you removed your kimono softly, letting him see the curves of your figure.

His mind wandered to how your naked body looked like, and how it felt under his touch. Naoya unconsciously twitched his fingers on his face.

The corners of his lips were upturned; he was cheerful that he had finally found the person he wanted to wed, someone who supports him while he is leading one of the most important clans. It was a relief for Naoya to have someone he could trust and that he could count. At least, that is what he expected from the relationship.

Naoya’s thoughts died down, and his eyes slightly widened as he saw you caressing every curve of your body in a circular motion. His pupils followed your hands as you went from your neck to your sides, and then you bent over to massage your legs. He guessed you were putting on lotion, but that wasn't the most important thing for the young heir. What mattered to him was how much he missed you having you under him, squirming and pleading him to fuck you harder.

Since you two became engaged, the daily work of getting ready for the wedding didn’t allow you to be near each other. Besides, you weren't allowed to be with each other yet, even if you were together when you first met. The heir of the Zen’in clan was grateful that finally, your wedding day was going to arrive tomorrow.

Naoya's breathing became deep and hot when saw how you stood and placed your hands on your buttocks, circling the chubbiness of your sides. He wanted to replace your hands with his and make you moan once again under his touch.

"Tomorrow night," he thought.

However, Naoya’s strolling to your room said differently. His eyes kept looking at your figure as he walked through the open hallway and made his way to your room.

In a matter of seconds, Naoya was in front of your sliding door. His nose picked on the vanilla smell that came from what he supposed was your lotion. He placed two fingers on the side of the entrance, and with almost no force, he slid it lightly and sneaked himself in.

Naoya saw how his reflection on the mirror made you jump in fear. You were putting on white silk kimono for sleeping. His fingers slid the door again and closed it behind him.

"Naoya, what are you doing here?" You said while turning your body away from his lustful gaze, and adjusting your robe so he wouldn't see your naked body. There were rules to follow.

"You're my spouse." He took small steps towards your figure.

"I’m not your spouse, Naoya."

He got near you and placed a hand on your shoulder. You shivered at his touch and turned around to face him. You saw his dilated pupils. You smiled at him and embraced him in your arms. Naoya was delighted at the feeling of your body, so he possessively placed his hands on your back, his fingers imprinting your curves on his memory.

"Are you leaving me tomorrow?" Naoya looked at you, the upturned corners of his lips showed a dangerous smile.

"How can you say that?" You playfully patted him on his chest. Naoya got goose bumps at the first contact you made with him after you got engaged. His smile grew wider and the distance between your faces was getting alarmingly smaller.

"Then you are my spouse." Naoya used his right hand to lift your chin, and he held you there so he could examine your face. His golden eyes appreciated every single mark, bump, and line on it. He couldn’t feel luckier at that moment.

Naoya pushed you further into his embrace and locked his silky lips with yours. His right hand now was on the back of your head, keeping you in place as he sucked and bit your bottom lip. You placed your hands on his nape and opened your mouth to give him access inside you.

After a final bite on your bottom lip, Naoya pushed his wet and hot tongue inside your mouth; when Naoya found yours and started to fondle it, his cock twitched and your insides clenched. Both of you were holding each other in a loving and erotic display of affection, on which Naoya took the lead to slowly caress your tongue, with the same motion that he had used to tease your clit. Naoya let out a groan when you locked your hands on his hair and pulled him closer to you.

Naoya's left hand placed itself in your kimono’s front knot, and skillfully undid it. He sneaked his hand inside the fabric so his fingers could touch the warmth of your belly. Then, they snaked to your waist and finally to your lower back. His grip got rough on your skin; it was an electric experience for him.

His right hand seductively went from your shoulder to your collarbones; your skin felt like fire to him, one that he needed to get more of. So, he moved his skinny pianist fingers to your chest, until he got to your right breast and cupped it with his hand.

A moan came out of your lips, and Naoya squeezed hard your tit, making your legs tremble under you. He kept you in place with his left grip on your back. He pulled you to him even closer, so your body was giving his stiff cock the friction that he desperately needed.

Naoya’s hard dick was poking your right hip. The feeling of his mushroom head against your naked skin was delicious to the young man. But he never expected that you pressed yourself further into him until you could feel on your skin the ridge between his hardened shaft and his aroused head.

Your hands quickly traveled to his obi and undid the knot to give you further access to his hakama that you quickly untied. Naoya’s cock hit your belly, leaving his pearl pre-cum on the skin; he pulled away as he felt it was enough for him to paint you white.

"Lay down," Naoya commanded.

You lied on the bed in a heartbeat, and the minute your head touched the mattress, you opened your legs to give your husband-to-be a good view of your glistening and swollen pussy. Naoya’s mouth watered at the sight in front of him.

Naoya carelessly removed the rest of his clothing, and let you see his toned body. His left hand went straight up to his dick and made a fist on it as he kept his eyes glued to your clenching pussy. He pumped himself slowly while watching your undressed figure waiting for him.

Your right hand went to your right breast, your delicate fingers played with your nipple; when you finished teasing yourself, you moved them in a seductive curve to your waist, then your hips, and finally to your clit. Naoya took his hand out of his raging cock and slapped your fingers when they got to your pussy. An animalistic and angry look was on his face, he was enraged that you dare to touch something that belonged to him.

Naoya placed his knee on the mattress, making it sink as he moved his weight on top of you. The Zen’in took his cock with his right hand and align it with your moisten cunt.

Soon enough, you felt how his tip started to open your hot entrance, and as he pushed himself in your walls widened even more.

First, it took his large head, and then his shaft with a chubby curve in the middle of it. Your face contorted in pleasure and a depredator-like smile surfaced on Naoya. Your pussy surrounding his cock was a feeling he missed too much, and he was going to experience it as much as he could.

Naoya slowly pushed his erect cock in you until he filled you wholly; it was the perfect size for your cock-hungry pussy. His eyes remained on your agape mouth, and he waited until you closed it and so he kissed your beautiful lips.

Naoya pulled his cock out until the thick middle of his dick was stretching your entrance; then, with a loving and patient motion, he pushed himself back. Moans were coming out of your throat but they didn't get to your mouth, as Naoya was busy giving you soft pecks on your lips.

Naoya took his cock out once and pushed it back again, mixing your moisture and his white pre-cum using with pumps on your pussy. His eyes were closed and he focused on how your wet hole was entertaining his stiff dick.

Naoya opened his eyes and broke the kiss; but his eyes fixed on your expressions as he kept the soft motion on his hips, that made little to no sound in the room.

You opened your eyes, curious about your fiancé's doings. Naoya noticed your moans had stopped, and you saw a glimpse of mischief on his gaze.

Naoya reached out for one of the pillows beside you, and with his cock still inside, he signaled you to lift your pelvis. He placed the plush beneath you.

The heir started to shift around until his knees supported his weight, and his position was upright with his hands on your hips.

Naoya began once again his exploratory thrusts inside you. He got addicted to the feeling of your pussy clamping over and over again on his cock, asking for more.

Naoya felt the need to gain up speed, and he did. His thrusts inside you became primal, creating a loud slapping noises of his hips against your inner thighs, getting to the point where the people near your chamber knew what was going out in the bedroom. That is if they hadn't heard your obscene moans coming out of your pretty mouth. Naoya showed them he was the one making and breaking the traditions as he pleased, especially when it came to his spouse.

Naoya's breath was pushed outside of his lungs with each of the strong and fast thrusts he made inside you. He pushed his cock with such force that your tits could hit your chin and the sheets were coming off the edges of the bed. Naoya was focused on making your body tremble with his cock. He couldn’t get enough of the bouncing and the sounds you made when he fucked like that.

His cock and motion were punishing your pussy, the bed squeaked loudly in the room.

You held tight to the bed, trying to not fly off of your fiancé's abusive pacing. Your cunt felt so full of his fat cock that you clamped harder on his dick, making him let out a loud moan that took him off guard.

Naoya felt how tight your pussy got and pulled out immediately, as he sensed he was about to shoot his entire load inside you.

The slapping of the skin stopped, and you glanced at Naoya with squinted eyes. His body was covered in sweat, and his breathing was agitated.

The young heir's cock was lying against his abdomen, and it was shining with the moisture of your pussy juices. His hands were still on your hips but moved to your backside, and pushed you upwards until he could retrieve the soaked pillow he had placed earlier underneath you. He threw it away to an unknown place in the room.

"All-fours," Naoya commanded once again. His speech was low but at the same time domineering.

You tried to gather all of your force to stand up; and even though you struggled on closing your legs, because of your abused inner thighs, you managed to present to Naoya your bum and a clear picture of your dripping cunt.

As you were positioning yourself, you immediately felt his rough grip on both sides of your legs. His cock was already inside you before you could even get comfortable in the pose. And with a sudden push of his hips, you were knocked face-first into the mattress. Your backside was the only part of your body remaining up in the air as Naoya held it in place with a bruising force.

Naoya angled your cunt so his cock would dominate all of you. He placed his knees wider on the bed so he could have a better balance. He took you in his hands and began to pump his cock faster and harder into your pussy.

The slapping sounds were worrisome to others, and your screams of pleasure made the servants avoid all the vicinity of your room.

Naoya kept his punishing pace, the ridge of his cock pulled out your mixed juices; they coldly slid out of you and onto your thigh and knees, making a puddle of your arousal in the bed.

Naoya hunched over you and locked his arm on your waist started to abusively thrust his erection inside you. Your walls clamped harder around him, making him curl his toes in pleasure. However, he had a point to make in your battle for power, so even if your cunt was impossibly tight, he kept pushing himself into your pussy so it would swallow him whole.

"Naoya", you lewdly moaned his name.

Naoya buried his face on the back of your neck as he kept hitting his balls against your vulva; your belly contracted, and Naoya felt how you repeatedly clenched on his dick. Your moans of euphoria combined with his name were enough for him to shot his load in many ropes inside you.

His thrusting kept going, and the juices running down your thigh turned white and sticky. Some drops of his cum with your juices made it to the mattress, but others remained on your soft skin. You could feel how he was emptying his cum inside you, painting your insides and outsides with his white and hot seed.

It wasn't long until your consciousness started to fade out, and Naoya felt how your body was starting to collapse on the bed, but the joy of your swollen cunt welcoming him was enough for him to keep going until his cock gave up on him and softened.

Finally, Naoya pulled out of you and opened your butt cheeks so he could see your cunt pushing his cum out. A proud smirk took over on his features. His hands then cupped your bum and moved from your lower back to your neck and finally to your hair, which he moved aside, so he could see your sleeping face. His proud smirk turned into a soft and loving smile.

Naoya placed himself right next to you and gave you a peck on your forehead. Then, he took you in his arms and guided you to his chest, so you could sleep well while listening to his heartbeat.

#NaoyaKnockMeOverWithYourCock2021

#naoya zenin #zenin naoya #naoya zenin x reader #zenin naoya x reader #naoya

[animeomegas]

Omega!Light - How do his plans change? If he had a mate?

Anon:  How about light yagami as an omega? It would be interesting considering how he plans on being 'justice and creating a new world. How would he feel of having an alpha mate?

and

Anon: Could I request for an omega light. I feel like it would really be interesting and it would make sense with the story line a bit. Considering he wants justice and all in an alpha-dominated world. "Omega rules over the world type of stuff "

(Hmm, this was an interesting one to write! It was a bit of a deep dive into Light’s psyche~ I’m sick at the moment and not taking my classes so I’m bulk writing some older requests right now! Sorry it took me so long to get to this. Enjoy!)

Warnings: Mpreg, Discrimination,  Light’s general blasé attitude towards murder.

The World

Firstly, let’s look at the omegaverse world in Death Note (pre- Kira) and how it was for Light growing up as a male omega.

Light’s experiences with discrimination very much shaped his desire for justice. He felt like he was never given justice for the way he was treated and he was going to change that.

Omegaverse Japan was very prejudiced against omegas and Light felt these effects at a very young age. 

The first time was with an elderly neighbour of his. When his mother was proudly showing off his recent perfect test scores, the neighbour dismissed them with a comment about how he shouldn’t be focusing on education but on training to be a good mate and mother, and that alphas didn’t like omegas who focused outside of the family and the household. 

This was extreme, but it did reflect the biases of the older generations. 

At only six, Light was crushed, even if he kept those feelings to himself. Eventually, he vowed to show everyone who thought he couldn’t do ‘alpha things’ that he could, and not only that but he was better than any alphas at those things. 

Other examples of discrimination he faced are as follows:

Being told by his teacher that he should pick a new future career because “being a police officer is a demanding job. You’ll need to be at home for your future pups, Light kun!”

Alphas at his school never taking no for an answer when he rejects their advances (and the teacher ignoring this behaviour).

Gaining the attention of sleazy adult alphas starting from when he was only 14. 

In public, Light tried to play both a respectful genius and good omega boy. 

He would never dull his intelligence too much, but he remained soft-spoken and manipulated his way out of situations without causing a fuss. Eg. Claiming he was waiting until he finished school to court, rather than just rejecting his alphas classmates outright.

Light just found that this strategy made people leave him alone more often and therefore was his favourite. 

And then he finds the Death Note.

Kira

As an omega, Kira’s actions change ever so slightly. 

He is very harsh on hate crimes against omegas.

He goes so far as to seek them out, rather than mostly getting names from watching the news. 

This has the unfortunate side effect of L figuring out almost immediately that Kira is an omega though. Which ultimately increases suspicion on Light.

When Light finds out that L is also an omega, he can’t decide if he feels more or less angry. 

On one hand, he was imagining an arrogant asshole alpha that he would have been delighted to kill, so this is a more tolerable alternative.

On the other hand, shouldn’t L be supporting him making the world safer for omegas like them? It feels like L is betraying his kind which makes Light angrier.

In the earlier days, Kira’s focus on helping omegas and closing the discrimination gap makes him pretty popular, especially on anonymous internet forums. 

With an Alpha mate

Light met you at university. You were a tolerable classmate who expressed an interest in courting him. 

Light, although he had no interest in you, accepted the courtship to get L off his back. L had theorised that Kira was either an unmated omega, or mated and very angry/regretful about it. Considering Kira’s age, he decided it was likely the former. For this reason, he figured being in an active courtship would throw L off.

Light picked you because you were one of the more tolerable alphas, but he found himself surprised at how much he enjoyed your company. 

You actually listened to him, valued his opinions, supported his dreams. He found himself thinking that it wouldn’t be that bad to be mated to you. 

He pushed those thoughts back, following the courting motions with as little emotion as possible. 

But when he was in heat (a minimised one because he takes suppressants) he just really wanted you there with him. He was so confused and angry that he was feeling this way, but he caved in and called you over to spend time with him. 

As he laid in your embrace, he started trying to justify what he was doing. 

He liked to think he was a god, but ultimately he had the lifespan of a human. Who better to continue his legacy than his own child? For a child, he would need a mate. And you were the most tolerable alpha he had ever met. That’s the reason he was doing this.

So, he puts out feelers to see your opinion on Kira and eventually he tells you who he is. He is gleeful when he receives your support.

From this point, he throws himself into the relationship a lot more, moving on from courting to intended mates. 

He loves having someone he can be himself with. He never has to put up a mask with his alpha. 

His plan is to get pregnant after he’s established the new world order, then raise his child to take over when he’s too old. He doesn’t care what their primary or secondary gender is because he plans to make sure they are raised to be a suitable leader.

Light gritted his teeth as he persevered through his university coursework. His heat was driving him mad. He skin was itchy and he couldn’t focus properly. 

It would probably be better if you were here with him. 

No. He gripped his pen tightly. He didn’t need anyone else, certainly not an alpha. He was fine. He just needed to lay down for a bit, then he’d feel better. 

Closing his textbook, he stretched and made his way over to his bed, supressing a whine at the lack of a nest. No, he didn’t need a nest he was fine.

Okay, maybe he wasn't as fine as originally thought. It had been a few hours and he was only feeling worse. Maybe he should send you a message. Just so he could get back to work of course.

You knocked hesitantly on Light’s front door, clutching your bag tightly. Light had sent you a cryptic message and you were a little worried about him.

His mother opened the door and ushered you up to Light’s room with a smile. You thanked her politely before walking quickly to Light’s bedroom. You knocked twice before tentatively swinging open the door. You saw Light sitting up in bed, looking a little ruffled, like he’d been asleep. You took a deep breath. He was in heat... The omega you were courting had just invited you into his room while he was in heat! Your alpha puffed up in pride.

But... where was his nest? 

“Hey Light.” You spoke quietly. “How are you feeling?” You moved to sit on the edge of his bed, watching carefully for any signs of rejection. 

“Like crap.” He let out a strained laugh. “I need to get my work done, but I can’t do anything like this.”

You hesitated. “Where is your nest? You’d probably feel a lot better in there.”

“I don’t have one.” Light said shortly. 

“Oh!” You said, flustered. “That’s fine. I just thought- but that was rude, I’m sorry.”

Light rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, just drop it.”

You let out a sigh of relief, scooting closer to him and wrapping an arm around his waist. Light automatically leaned onto your shoulder before realising what he was doing and starting to pull away. Before he could, you tightened your grip, releasing a calming scent as you enjoyed the physical affection. Light hesitated, but the feeling of burning itchiness was finally starting to subside and he couldn’t help but lean into the person providing the soothing sensation. 

He was only doing this so he would be feeling well enough this evening to write in the Death Note. That’s it. Nothing else. 

#death note #light yagami #omega!light #omega light #omega L #alpha!reader #alpha reader #abo #omegaverse #headcanons #scenarios #mpreg #nesting #reader insert #omega male #gn reader #gn alpha #light x reader #omega light x alpha reader