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sopebubbles · 9 months

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Master List

Twelve

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: Yoongi takes you on a date

Warnings: slight angst (mostly talking about her past), mentions of past abuse, homelessness, fear of abandonment

Honestly yall its a lot of yoongi and oc being freakin soft 😩

Yoongi was only slightly disappointed to find you awake and making breakfast with Hobi in the kitchen when he came in after eight in the morning. He'd kind of been hoping to be able to take a peek at you in your nest, just to see for himself that you were as safe and cozy as his other omega had promised (many times) that you were last night. Although he hadn't been gripped by the same agonizing fear he had known for the month you were gone, he still hated being away from you so long last night, and he'd texted both Jimin and Hoseok multiple times last to assuage his anxiety (and his guilt). They'd promised him that you had nested just fine, had eaten well and seemed perfectly happy with Jimin's company before peacefully going to sleep. It was cute just how much he worried about the details.

"Yoongi!" You said his name brightly when you saw him and rushed over to give him a hug. You were too energized from a good night's sleep and the cup of fresh squeezed orange juice Taehyung gave you to be self conscious about it. You didn't seem to notice the flour on your cheek until Yoongi brushed it off with a smile. "Oh sorry. I'm probably getting you dirty," you said as you tried to pull away. He held you close.

"I don't mind. Good morning," he hummed as he rubbed his chin over the top of your head.

"M-morning." Yoongi's arms tightening around you turned to jelly when you'd been solid only moments ago.

How can he be so warm? He must be tired and hungry.

"Can I get you some pancakes?" You offered, and he finally loosened his hold.

"Only if you eat some with me. Have you eaten yet?"

You shook your head. "But I need to help Hobi."

The omega waved a hand at you without looking back. "I can handle it. If your alpha says eat, then it's time to eat. Which you know. She kept saying she didn't want to eat until you got here," he added just to make you squirm. A small whine escaped your throat, drawing the attention of all the men, whether they intended to look your way or not. "Careful, girl. Your whines have power here," Hobi smirked as he set two plates in front of you and Yoongi on the counter.

You sat down and ate quietly for a few minutes while Yoongi tried and failed to pretend he was paying more attention to the food than to you. Jin and Jungkook were laying on the couch, nearly falling back asleep after stuffing themselves before anyone else got up. Jimin had gotten up to take your place helping Hobi while Taehyung and Namjoon sat at the table sharing the newspaper.

"What do you want to do today?" Yoongi asked after several minutes.

You swallowed and cleared your throat. "I have to work later."

Yoongi's fork froze halfway to his mouth. "What? why?"

You shrugged. "I work Saturdays."

"You work six hours a day, six days a week?" You nodded. "That's too much."

"I-I thought you d-didn't mind me working…"

Screwed it up already. Now you'll see how he really feels. The pancakes in your stomach turned to lead.

Yoongi could see you getting nervous, watched you grow even smaller. "No. No, I don't," he managed, forcing his voice to be calm. "I don't mind you working if it's what you want. But that's a lot. Thirty-six hours is almost full time but no benefits. That just seems…sketchy."

You tilted your head at him. "What do you mean?"

"Just that it seems like your employer is taking advantage of you. Do you get any benefits?"

"Well, I get heat leave."

"But what about health insurance? Vacation? Extended sick leave? What if you get pregnant?" Yoongi could feel all the air leave the room and wished he could take the words back.

You shook you head and spoke softly, "Yoongi, I'm not–"

"I know. I didn't mean that. I'm an idiot. I swear I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying, those are things you'd expect in a full-time job."

You shrugged. "It's not like I have a lot of options, Yoongi."

"I know," he sighed. "I just want you to be treated fairly."

You stood from your stool and walked toward the stairs. "People like me don't get treated fairly."

Yoongi got up and followed you, catching your arm as gently as he could. "I'm sorry. For what I said and how I said it. I know that you've been doing the best you could, and I have no right to judge that. Everything is okay." His hand laid hot against your neck, thumb stroking just the bottom edge of your scent gland. When he felt your shoulders relax, so did his. "Come finish your breakfast, and when you're ready I'll take you to work."

You turned worried eyes up at him. "You worked so hard, alpha. You must be tired. I'll finish, but then you need to go to sleep. Jimin and Tae will take me."

The corners of Yoongi's mouth turned up in a placating smile. "Okay."

He watched you walk back to your seat at the counter and pick up your fork, ignoring the eyes of the others as he joined you. He wanted to talk it through with you more, but he wasn't going to make you do it in front of everyone, and he didn't want to get into an argument before you went to work all day. Instead, he asked you how your night was and what you did the day before, and you plastered on a smile that slowly became more natural while you told him all about nesting and your newfound love of pillows.

When you'd both finished eating, you took your plates and washed them along with the others, no matter what Hobi said. You couldn't sit down and relax now. Doing so would only create nervous energy you wouldn't be able to dispel. You'd have to spend the rest of your day in motion. Yoongi followed you again when you went up the stairs to change for work, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't a little annoying.

At the top of the stairs you turned to look at him. "Are you going to follow me around all day?" You snapped.

Yoongi took a step back. He honestly didn't even realize how close he was. "I'm sorry. I wasn't intending to." He rubbed a hand over his eyes and you could see how tired he was.

You crossed your arms over your chest. "What are you doing?"

He sighed. "I was going to sleep like you'd suggested. I think I was following you because…"

He wants to sleep in my nest.

The realization dawned on both of you. "It's not time yet," you said softly, but eased your defensive stance.

Yoongi met your eyes with equal tenderness and smiled a little. "Yet?"

"Yet," you confirmed.

Somehow the idea that there was a future nest he would be invited into was enough for him. "That's alright."

You turned on your heel to walk to your room, but he called you back. "Would you like to go on a date with me tonight?"

"A date?"

"Yeah. If you don't have any plans."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Why?"

He chuckled. "Well, I told you we could date as part of our courtship, and I would like to get to know you better."

"But…" you looked at him with an expression of such utter confusion that he wished he had a camera to document it.

"But what?"

"I just…I don't want you to force yourself to take me on a date if you aren't attracted to me."

It was Yoongi's turn to be utterly lost. "Whatever gave you the idea that I'm not attracted to you? I'm your alpha."

"Yeah, I know, but I feel like you're just doing this, taking me in because you want to protect me, because I'm so helpless and pathetic. And you were so cool about not breeding me. Plus you have all the guys, and so I just guessed you weren't thinking of me that way." You wilted under Yoongi's amused gaze.

He snorted. "Princess, I do want to protect you because you are incredibly vulnerable, but that doesn't change my attraction to you one bit. And there's a whole world of intimacy between protecting you and breeding you. It's vast and we should go slow, but a date is a good start. That is, unless you aren't attracted to me."

Blood rushed to your face as you felt put on the spot. What kind of omega wouldn't be attracted to the alpha he was? What person wouldn't fall for his gentle, caring demeanor? But you couldn't possibly admit to it.

Yoongi stepped closer to mark the top of your head with his scent. The embrace only lasted a few seconds before he pulled away, but it still left you weak in the knees.

"I don't have anything to wear."

Yoongi shrugged. "It will be very casual. No one will see you but me. You can wear pajamas for all I care. Bonus points if you wear one of my hoodies."

You smiled at that thought. "Okay then."

"Good. Then I'll see you tonight," he told you before he turned and went into the pack bedroom to sleep.

Yoongi was pleasantly surprised to find an apple-scented pillow in his usual spot and let himself enjoy it for a few minutes before his memory from last night came back to him.

He had brought a patient to the emergency room of the hospital he had brought your ex-alpha to a few nights ago. After they filled out some paperwork, Yoongi and his partner took a break. His motivation was unclear, even at the time, but he found out what room the alpha was staying in from a nurse that liked to talk to him whenever she got the chance. She told him that he was still in the ICU, but that he was in a coma, and hadn't woken up since the night he was brought in. When he found the room, there was a woman inside. A tall redhead, an alpha as well, if Yoongi wasn't mistaken, so he steered clear, but it had stuck with him the rest of the night.

When he heard you, Jimin and Taehyung leave the house, Yoongi got out of bed and went to the living room where Jin and Jungkook were still on the couch.

"Is everything okay, Yoongi?" Jin asked when the alpha only stood over them without saying a word.

"I need to ask you some questions. Legal questions," he clarified and sat on the coffee table opposite them.

"What's on your mind, hyung?" Jungkook sat up to give him his full attention.

"I found out last night that her ex-alpha–"

"His name is Sebastián," Jungkook added.

Yoongi growled. "He's in a coma. And I just need to know what's going to happen to her if he never wakes up. And I guess, what happens if he does?"

Jin sat up and shared a look with Jungkook before he spoke. "If he doesn't wake up, there would most likely be a grand jury investigation, which would determine who, if anyone, was responsible for his death."

"In that case, the blame would likely fall on the driver, since she has already been charged with drunk driving. It would be manslaughter," Jungkook added.

"But she said she pushed him, in her statement. That won't matter?"

Jin shook his head doubtfully. "She could get charged, but in my experience, if you put that girl in front of any judge or jury, there's no way they wouldn't chalk it up to self defense. If he does survive, it wouldn't even make sense to press charges for assault. He wouldn't look very sympathetic. But whether or not she's charged criminally, if he dies, his family could bring a wrongful death suit to civil court. But again, it will be hard to make her look like a perpetrator, especially since they're both Lykos."

"You seem confident that she'll be okay?"

"I am," Jin assured him.

"But what if she had a motive?" Yoongi worried.

"You mean because they knew each other?" Yoongi nodded. Jin thought it over, rubbing his finger along his lower lip. "The prosecution would have to prove she meant to push him into traffic and not just to get him off of her. In that case, she'd just need to be coached not to take the bait."

"Could you do it? Would you take the case? If it came to that, I mean." Yoongi didn't know any other lawyers, and he certainly didn't know any he thought he could trust with something like this more than Jin.

He must have been able to read that emotion in Yoongi's eyes because Jin nodded. He wouldn't take that trust for granted again. "If she needs me to, of course, Yoongi. I'll do anything for you."

You were surprised when Yoongi said he was taking you to a drive in theater. You'd hardly been to any movie theaters at all in your life, and never a drive-in, but you liked the idea of it. There were lots of benefits to it. You got to go out to a public place, but sitting in his car was relatively private. The movie removed the pressure to make conversation, but on the other hand, if the movie wasn't very interesting, you could talk through it without disturbing anyone else. It was really a perfect idea for a first date.

He'd urged you to take a nap when you got home since the movie wouldn't start until later, and you were glad you'd taken his advice. You didn't have much to choose from when it came to clothing options, so you simply put on a clean pair of jeans and the mustard yellow hoodie he had loaned you a few days ago. Yoongi seemed pleased enough with your ensemble, repeating his compliment of how nice you looked in that color. He wasn't dressed up at all either, wearing a pair of ordinary jeans and a baggy long sleeve shirt. You wouldn't know it because he wouldn't say such a thing, but there wasn't anything you could wear that would look more appealing to him than his own clothes, because they made you look like you were his. He beamed at you when you came down the stairs to leave with him.

"Do I look okay?" You whispered to Hoseok.

He pinched your cheek. "You look adorable. He loves it. Believe me." He winked at Yoongi over your head and the alpha held out his hand to take you to the car. "Don't come home too early," he instructed as you went out the door together.

Once you got settled in the front seat, Yoongi cleared his throat before he started the engine. "This is for you," he said as he handed you a brand new Samsung phone.

"Oh, I–"

"Before you say you don't need it, just consider that it's for me. I want you to make sure that you have it with you and it's on all the time. I told you that it's important for me to know where you are, so I can keep you safe, so you need a phone. And don't worry, it's not like the newest model or anything. Besides, remember you're agreed to let me provide for you. So just accept it. It has all of the pack's numbers saved already, in case you ever need one of them, and they all have your number already. I'm your emergency contact," he rambled.

Instead of offering any protest you smiled softly and unbuckled your seat belt to lean over and kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you, alpha," you said before you leaned back into your spot. You may have wanted to refuse, but he was right, it was for him and not you, not really. If he needed you to carry this thing around in order to feel more secure, that shouldn't be hard for you.

You weren't prepared for more gifts when you got to the drive-in. When you found a spot to park, Yoongi told you to wait while he got out of the car and went to the trunk. You looked anxiously through the back window, but couldn't see anything that gave away what he was doing. Eventually he pushed a large gift bag and picnic basket through his open car door before he joined you again.

"What's all this?" You wondered, looking at the tissue paper sticking out of the huge bag at your eye level.

"Why don't you open it and see?" He teased.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you got up on your knees to be able to look over the bag, but your scrutiny only made him smile. Pulling out the paper piece by piece revealed two soft round pillows inside, one lavender and one orange.

"I figured you needed some pillows for your nest. I thought these could remind you of me and Jiminie."

Your cheeks and your eyes burned as you pulled out the two pillows, almost ball-like except for how plush they were. They squeezed nicely in your arms when you held them to your chest.

"Do you think they'll be okay?" Yoongi asked, beginning to feel nervous when you didn't say anything.

You buried your head in them to hide your wet eyes. "They're perfect." Your words were muffled, but they still warmed Yoongi's heart. When you collected yourself, you placed the pillows safely back in the bag and set it aside. "What's in the basket?"

"Oh, I asked Hobi to put together some snacks for us. But if there are any other treats you want, I'll go get something from the concession stand." Yoongi opened the top of the basket and you both reached for the box of raisinets at the same time. You whispered an apology while Yoongi plucked them out. He opened the box and handed it to you. "I'm going to go get some popcorn. Do you have a drink preference?"

You shook your head and he got out once again to go get more snacks. You shoved a few raisinets into your mouth and put the rest away. Then you pulled out the soft orange pillow from the gift bag at your feet and held it close again. You wondered if he'd already scented it, or if it was your imagination that applied the orange aroma.

The longer he was gone, your mind began to wander. It was hard not to think about all the first things you were experiencing lately. Your very first completely safe, self- made nest, your first drive-in movie, your first date. It had felt like you'd been living for years, in the most raw way possible, but maybe all you'd done was survive, and only barely. These new things seemed so small and insignificant to you when they were only abstract ideas, things you would live without because you didn't need them to survive, but now they felt monumentally important as each one carved a memory in your heart. And each one was available to you only because of Yoongi.

The man at the center of your thoughts broke through them when he returned several minutes later carrying a large bucket of popcorn, which he handed to you, and a large coke that he balanced on the dashboard.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, taking in your expression, which remained pensive as he settled into his seat.

You forced a smile, not because you weren't feeling it, but because it wasn't a thing you were accustomed to showing. "I'm fine. I…" you searched for something to say that would take you away from your thoughts. "I didn't even ask what we were seeing."

Yoongi chuckled at himself. "Oh. Yeah. It's actually a horror movie. I was actually hoping we could see the comedy that's playing on the other screen, but it was sold out, so this one was left. But if you don't like horror movies, I was thinking we could just sit and talk. Or we could leave. Or if we're really bored we could turn on the radio station for the comedy and watch it with the horror scenes."

You laughed at his ridiculous idea, but thought it actually sounded kind of fun. "Well, I do like horror movies, but option three also sounds interesting," you admitted with a smile that almost stopped his heart.

Yoongi cleared his throat as he looked out the window. "There's still like twenty or thirty minutes before the sun sets and the movie starts. Maybe we can still talk?"

You began to get the feeling that this was what he actually wanted to begin with. He had said he wanted to get to know you, and you supposed he had a right to know the person he was taking in, but at the same time you didn't want to overwhelm him with all of your baggage, at least not in one night.

"What do you want to talk about?" You hedged, shoving a kernel of popcorn past your lips.

"Well, I just really want to know more about you, but I don't want to be unfair, so you can ask me anything you want to," he offered, turning in his seat to look at you.

"I don't know what I could tell you that Jungkook hasn't already. I mean, he must have run a background check on me, right? And he would have told you before he let you take me home?"

Yoongi shook his head. "Jungkook hasn't really said much, actually. I mean, yeah, we do know about, um, where you were before you came to the city," he said diplomatically.

"You mean jail?" You asked provocatively. "You can say it. Unless it makes you uncomfortable, which I understand." You knew you shouldn't be getting your hackles up with him. He approached the subject gently and here you were, striking back with your claws out like the alley cat that you were. You closed your eyes to try to calm your racing heart.

He placed a hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, it's okay. I'm not judging you. No one in the pack is, either. You're not the only person to get arrested, you know."

You opened your eyes and looked at him incredulously. "Have you been arrested?"

Yoongi nodded his head. "When I was sixteen. A friend and I stole his uncle's car and went for a joy ride. I was just a passenger, and I hadn't presented yet. They dropped the charges."

"Wow, grand theft auto," you chuckled and he did too.

"My point is, we all have a past. I mean, some of us more than others, but you're not the only one."

You eyed him uncertainly. "Did he tell you what I was arrested for? I wasn't just arrested Yoongi. I spent six months in county."

Yoongi nodded. "I know, but I'm not judging you for what you had to do."

You shook your head with a wry laugh. "That's the thing. I didn't do it. I mean yeah, she made me go out there, but I promise you I didn't sell my body. Honest. That was my first night. I may have been naive, but I'm not an idiot. The first guy I talked to was a cop, and I knew it. I could spot him easy, so I offered myself up and I let him arrest me. And when they charged me, I pleaded guilty. Do you know why?" Yoongi shook his head, dark eyes locked on yours. "Because going to jail was better than going back to my alphas."

Yoongi kept his face neutral despite the anger he felt bubbling below the surface of his skin. He'd never ever question your decision, but he would always feel angry that your situation was so bad that jail seemed like a viable alternative for you.

"You said alphas?" He questioned when he managed to speak.

"Two of them," you said with a nod.

"And one of them was female?"

"Yeah, they were husband and wife."

"How did you meet them? I mean…he's so much older."

You grabbed the coke from the dashboard and took a long drink to clear the lump in your throat. Yoongi's eyes never left you, but you tried to ignore him. "I met her first. I was on the streets. I was almost seventeen by then, but I'd been on my own for months. She just started talking to me one day when she was volunteering at a soup kitchen…offered me a place to stay. And I was desperate enough to not question it."

"So she just…took you in off the streets?" You nodded. "And then what?" He asked as if your story was the one he had bought a ticket for tonight.

"And then…and then everything seemed normal for like a week. They just seemed like a regular couple. They had a spare room and they needed help around the house, so I would clean and take care of the house in exchange for living there. It was several days before I realized they actually wouldn't let me leave. I hadn't really been on heat suppressants yet, and when that time came around I found out that the real reason they wanted me was because they wanted babies. They couldn't have any on their own, so they would use me. Like some fucked up puppy mill," you choked out.

Yoongi reached over to pat your back, but you flinched away from him, and he could understand that you wanted your space after such a revelation. He took his hand back and tried to think of something to say when all he wanted to do was rage on your behalf. But he knew it wouldn't do you any good. "It makes sense that you were so frightened when two other strangers took you off the street. You must have been very scared."

You looked him straight in the eyes. "It's only been a few days. Shouldn't I still be scared?"

It wounded Yoongi deeply that you felt that way, but he could hardly blame you. He knew it wasn't about him exactly. "I'm sorry. I know there isn't really anything I could say to reassure you that you're safe with me but–"

"It's okay, Yoongi. I do feel safe with you. It's different. The way I feel when I think about you. When I'm near you…I feel safe but…" you looked out at the narrowing strip of pink sky to your left.

"But what?"

"I've been taken in so many times when I think I'm at my lowest. When I was abandoned as a baby, when I met those other alphas, when Eli came to play big brother. And never, never has any of it actually made me safe."

"I hope–" Yoongi could feel the tears at his water line, but they would stay there. He bit his lip and looked away as well. "I hope you'll stay long enough to know that you will be safe in our home."

You looked back at him finally and noticed the collar of his unbuttoned button-down shirt was crooked. Reaching over to straighten it, you assured him, "as long as you keep it safe for me, I won't have anywhere else to go."

Yoongi took your wrist gently before you had the chance to pull away from him. With his fingertips against your pulse point, he could feel the strong, steady beat of your heart, not high enough to be panicking, but still a little anxious. "I will do everything I can to make you feel safe," he promised.

Before you could make any kind of response, the lights over the parking lot shut off and images began to play on the screen in front of you. Without another word, Yoongi released you in order to fiddle with the radio, tuning it to the right station for your movie. You both settled back into the seat, facing the screen, with a mountain of snacks in between you. You each tried your best to focus on the movie, but you could feel it every time his eyes slid toward you as he watched your profile instead of the characters on screen. Every time you turned to look at him he recentered his attention, but he was fooling no one. Several times your hands brushed when you both reached into the popcorn for a salty snack, and he would chuckle awkwardly before pulling away.

You both tried to focus on the movie, but the truth was that it did nothing to hold your attention, not with Yoongi right beside you.

"There's something I don't understand," you said abruptly, causing Yoongi to look quickly between you and the huge screen. The movie had been pretty straight forward, to the point of being pretty boring.

"What?"

"Why do you like me? Why me?" Yoongi laughed openly while you pouted. You pulled your feet under you and turned to face him straight on, giving up any pretense of watching the movie. "Don't laugh. I'm serious. I mean. I don't know. I guess I'm trying to understand your intentions because I want to believe that this won't be like before but I…I'm scrawny and dumb and there's nothing interesting about me. I'm not even pretty enough to make up for it all. And there are plenty of needy omegas in this city. So what could you possibly want me for?"

Yoongi's humor subsided, and he turned the radio down before moving to face you as well. His expression was serious but his eyes still held light. He reached over to brush back your hair so he could see your face in the scattered light from the projector.

"I don't think attraction is ever really about those things. Not how someone looks or what they have to say, but how those things resonate with you. It's an elemental, a chemical thing. I just like you. Maybe that's why Hobi and Jin think we're fated mates."

"Fated mates?"

"I don't know. It's kind of…lykos folklore. Sort of what saps think of as soulmates. Like, it just feels right with someone, like you're linked to them even though there's no real reason. There's no proof that it's real. It's just a feeling I guess. But they say it only happens with alphas and omegas. And I don't think I believe it. I don't know if you feel that. But I do feel drawn to you in a way that I never have with anyone else. I don't even think attraction is the right word. I just feel like…I need to be with you."

Yoongi's eyes never left your face while he talked and you didn't realize you were holding your breath until he stopped and you inhaled so you could answer him. "Maybe that's why my omega wants me to trust you even though everything else tells me not to. Like, I should be terrified of you, but I'm just not. I just want to be good so that I can stay."

You didn't know you were leaning toward him, nor were you fully aware of the words you spoke or how they made Yoongi's heart race, but when he brushed his fingers along your cheekbone you suddenly leaned back, blinking rapidly to regain your composure.

Yoongi coughed and pulled his hand away, reaching for candy to occupy his fingers. "I guess I should be honest with you about my intentions," he said with a shrug. "Because I know they aren't entirely altruistic."

You swallowed, but kept your eyes on him. His words made you nervous, but you'd hardly call it fear. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe it's a little dark. Or maybe all alphas feel this way. I always knew I was an alpha before presentation, because I always wanted people to depend on me. I always wanted to be in charge, to be a provider, to have the people in my life need me even more than they wanted me. In a way, the attraction I have, the love I have for the others, that's the unbelievable thing. With Jimin, with you, I felt from the first time I met each of you that you needed me. You wouldn't survive without me. And I liked that. Do you think that's kind of sick?" He wondered. You couldn't tell if he wanted an answer, or if he wanted you to be a little bit scared. But still you didn't feel it.

I don't think I will survive without you, your inner self echoed.

You reached out to him, let your fingers graze the back of his hand. "I'm not sure. I'm not the best judge of what's normal and what's not. But it sounds right to me. I think to myself sometimes, I don't know how I've survived this long. I should be dead. Omegas…we aren't built to make it on our own. Sometimes it seemed like my death was right around the corner, but I don't feel that way anymore. The last two days have felt like the safest days of my whole life," you admitted.

Yoongi's chest felt tight, like his heart would burst through his ribs if you kept talking. He turned his palm up so he could slot his fingers through yours. You sat in silence for a moment, letting him hold your hand while he tried to keep his breathing steady.

"I don't understand why you're not pack alpha. Is it because Seokjin makes more money?" You wondered after a minute as you brushed back his chin length hair with your fingers.

Yoongi chuckled. "If we're getting technical, Taehyung makes the most money in the pack."

Your eyes bulged in surprise. "But I thought Tae didn't work."

"He doesn't have a job in the strictest sense, but reclusive artists are often the most sought after. His paintings sell for a high price tag to collectors."

You hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe I picked the wrong alpha."

Yoongi tugged on your hand playfully, making you giggle. "I always wanted to be a pack alpha. When I was younger I tried to establish my own pack but…it just wasn't right. I didn't have a lot to offer back then. I've never had Jin's resources. And then I met his pack, and I felt very comfortable with them. It was easy to fall in love with each of them so quickly. But they were already complete before me. I felt surprised they even wanted me. So I let go of that dream. It's been over five years now."

"But then you met Jimin, right? Did you think about starting a pack with him? On your own, I mean?"

Yoongi shrugged. "An alpha and a beta isn't much of a pack. You can make a pack without a beta, but without an omega? What's the point?" He looked at you through his eyelashes, but then quickly away. "Besides, Jimin and I both always wanted a big pack, and he clicked with Jungkook and Taehyung right away. It would have been selfish to take him away just because I wanted to be in charge."

"You're my pack alpha though," you murmured, sending a shiver down Yoongi's spine. He could only nod. "Good."

He lets his eyes close and for a minute you just watch him breathe steadily, happy that he seems content with you. But as seconds slip by you begin to feel that it might not be enough. Maybe it was silly, but you felt so much closer to him after all you'd both said, and holding his hand wasn't physically close enough anymore.

"I'm kind of cold," you told him quietly, taking him from his thoughts.

"I can turn on the heat," he offered, letting go of your hand and reaching for the ignition.

"Or maybe you could just hold me?"

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smile. He helped you move all the snacks to the backseat of the impala and moved closer so you met in the middle. You huddled into his side as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you legs over his. You let out a quiet, happy sigh you hoped he didn't notice.

"If you wanted to cuddle all you had to do was say so," he whispered to the top of your head.

You turned your face into his shoulder. "I'm working on it," you mumbled.

He smiled and ran his fingers through your hair, dragging his fingernails gently against your scalp. "You're doing great, princess."

You made a noise Yoongi wouldn't only describe as grumpy and turned your face up at him. "Why do you call me that?"

"Because that's what I want you to feel like. Because princesses have everything they need provided for. And because you're special just because you're you. But if you don't like it, I can call you something else."

You nestled into him again. "Well, when you put it like that."

Once again, Yoongi turned up the volume on the radio and you both at least pretended to pay attention. Although the movie in general was pretty innocuous, you took advantage of one lame jump scare to bury your face into his neck. Yoongi held his breath as you nosed at his scent gland, causing his light, happy scent to fill the car around you. He let you stay in his arms until the end of the movie, and although you didn't fall asleep, it was an easy mistake for him to make. He scratched teasingly at your side to rouse you when the screen went dark.

"Are you ready to go home, princess?"

You tilted your head up to see his features illuminated by the lights of other cars as they made their exits. You'd practically forgotten that there was anyone else there. Your head nodded sleepily, and Yoongi reluctantly moved you over to your side of the seat. When he moved behind the steering wheel you moved back to the center seat and strapped in the seatbelt there so you could stay close to his warmth.

No matter how old you get, the urge to stay up on a Saturday night always remains. Yoongi could tell by the soft footsteps moving about the second floor that the pack are just settling in for the night, brushing their teeth and for the most part discarding unnecessary items of clothing before staking their claim to their spots in the nest. Everyone was home for once, and they'd all sleep soundly. Even you. Even Yoongi, although he knew that it still wasn't time for you and him to share space for that activity. You climbed the stairs sleepily with Yoongi a few steps behind you, making sure you didn't slip as you swayed precariously. His hand went quickly to your hip, grabbing hold of the fabric there when you tripped over the top step. The noise brought Hoseok to the bedroom door.

"You didn't get her drunk, did you, alpha?" Hobi asked from the half open door. Yoongi rolled his eyes, because the omega knew that wasn't the plan.

"No, just sleepy," you yawned as you rubbed your eyes.

Jimin squeezed past Hoseok to give you a goodnight hug. "You smell like you crawled out of an orange." He giggled, "apples and oranges."

Yoongi blushed while the two of you said your goodnights.

"Do you need any help getting ready for bed?" Hobi asked softly. He'd helped you take apart your nest earlier today so that you could keep practicing.

"No, I think I got it. And I have new pillows," you whispered happily.

"Okay then," he smiled back. "Yoongi, I'll see you in a minute," he said, and the instruction to your alpha was clear, just in case he didn't already know where he would be sleeping tonight. He closed the door and the two of you were cloaked in darkness except for a sliver of light from a lamp Hoseok left on for you in your room.

"Are you going to tell them what I told you earlier?" You asked after a moment passed with nothing but the sound of your breathing.

"I won't, if you don't want me too. But no one is going to judge you if you're–"

"No. I was just thinking it would be better if you did. That way I don't have to tell it six more times."

Yoongi nodded. It was a vulnerable thing you had shared, and it couldn't be easy to talk about with others. "I read once that if you talk about your trauma repeatedly, like you're telling a story, it can start to feel more like a thing that happened and not something that's still happening to you."

You cringed at the thought. "I think I'd still rather have you explain it. If you don't mind."

"Of course," he agreed easily, anything to make you more comfortable.

"I had a good time tonight," you admitted after another quiet moment where neither of you seemed to want to leave.

Yoongi's smile was becoming semi permanent. "I'm glad. Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

He took one step closer to you and leaned down to kiss your cheek, but you turned your head up in such a way that you caught his lips with your own. You froze in surprise, and even more shockingly, he didn't move away. Yoongi took another step into you, so your chests were just touching. His hand went around your back to keep you steady despite intensifying the angle of your kiss. Still, it remained chaste even as it went on. His lips were hot and soft and just slightly moist, but he seemed content to press his mouth just gently to yours for another moment longer. Then his lips finally left yours, he whispered his goodnight and disappeared into the pack bedroom.

😃😃 they kissed! Who wants to scream about it?

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janethepegasus · 3 months

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One Random Headcanon for each OM Character

Lucifer has a small collection of non-cursed records stashed away in his room, which he sometimes listens to them when he feels like it. He used to get one record as a souvenir every time he goes to the human world, but he stopped doing that once they stopped selling records. Though he was happy that records were back in the market again, he was surprised that they’re now treated as luxury items for super fans of various artists.

Mammon isn’t the kind of guy that’s knowledgeable on animals, but he’s an expert on crows and ravens. He can tell which is which and knows a lot of fun facts about them. You could say they’re his favorite animals.

Leviathan, whenever he needs some time to himself, he dives into the aquarium in his room (in his demon form of course) and just relaxes in there. He finds the underwater sounds very calming.

Satan could’ve been a huge Warrior Cats fan if he was introduced to the series.

Asmodeus can actually glow under UV light. More specifically his eyes, horns, and wings. His horns and wings glow cyan while his eyes glow a striking magenta, almost making his eyes the center of attention while dancing under the UV lights.

Beelzebub can accurately guess someone or something’s weight just by holding them. It’s a skill he learned and mastered throughout the years, in fact he thinks his skill is more accurate than a scale. He can also tell if someone lost or gained weight.

Belphegor does NOT do well with coffee. Sure he can get energized after he drinks it, but the second the effects wear off, he falls straight to the floor and goes to sleep.

Diavolo gained his habit of sneaking out the castle due to his desire to enjoy the things he and his father has given to his subjects, he wants to experience the wonders of everyday life. He wants to enjoy as much of it as possible before he's crowned king, as he knows that opportunity would be striped away as soon as he's king.

Barbatos once teased MC by saying exactly what they were gonna say before they could even finish a sentence. The classic “stop copying me!”

Simeon has tried his hand in writing fanfiction before, but just like his writing, he accidentally predicts future events that will happen in whatever series he’s writing for.

Luke tried to prove that he’s not just a kid by renting and watching a horror movie. He couldn’t get past the first scary scene without covering his eyes and whimpering in fear.

Solomon’s very first dish he ever made was an odd combination of mash potatoes and milk, as a weird way to recreate soup. He recalls enjoying it when he made it for the first time.

Raphael’s flavor palate is completely messed up, he can hardly taste any flavor of anything he eats, even things that would usually make a person sick. But he didn’t get this from birth, he got it after a poorly executed prank. He ate a cupcake covered in magma salt and it literally burnt his tongue. But he sort of sees his lack of taste as a blessing, now he can enjoy any kind of food without any judgement on how good it is. …Though this made him a really bad cook.

Thirteen, in all her years of reaping souls, has come to hate people who risk their lives because they think whatever they were doing is cool. Why risk their lives just to do that dangerous stunt? Or do some silly challenge that’s clearly too dangerous for them to handle? She just doesn’t get it. She becomes a lecturing mother towards any stupid human that managed to live after their dangerous stunt, as a way to teach them to NOT risk their lives again.

Mephistopheles may love taking care of horses, but show him any of those horse girl shows or movies? He’ll just roll his eyes and scoff at it. Taking care of these majestic creatures is not some quirky girly hobby in his eyes, and the fact there’s a whole genre of this brings him great shame.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me raphael #obey me thirteen #obey me mephistopheles

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yuri-is-online · 1 year

Text

And Your Name Is? (Jade, Leona, Riddle)

Synopsis- After successfully resolving whatever was causing NRC to be trapped in an endless time loop of overblotting and disaster, one last reset should give him a chance to experience a normal school year with you. But instead you find yourself trapped in the here and there, appearing as a vague shadow around the school that vanishes as soon as he catches up to you. The kind thing to do would be to allow you to be forgotten in the chance it lets you return to your world.

But this is Twisted Wonderland where the kind thing is seldom done, and he wants you back as much as you want to find him again.

a/n: Look, I don't know who decided to make MICKY MOUSE a sadman deadwife in Disney's attempt at animal crossing but it gave me ideas. This is shamelessly based off that questline, feel free to request other characters. Everyone deserves a chance at angst. This probably won't be the last time I'll write something with this sort of premise meh

notes: angst with the intent of comfort, Jade is a red flag. Otherwise mild.

Jade Leech

It’s a wonder you ever lived here. Ramshackle is cold, Jade can’t bring himself to say lifeless for fear of speaking a crueler fate into existence, but the word’s on the tip of his tongue nonetheless. It’s a pity this is where you call “home,” but he can work with this. He can sweep up the cobwebs, dust every broken surface before popping the timbers back into place, figure out how to repair the upholstery so long as he sees the shimmery light that forms your shape begin to fill in. He knows if he reaches for you that you will disappear, so he lets you observe as he keeps you in the corner of his eye. Jade is careful, methodical, even as his hands shake as he launders your sheets and fluffs pillows on a bed he really wants to burn for its audacity to be so uncomfortable. He vaguely recalls requesting you make one room of this place into a giant terrarium once, a silly request he’s sure he’d make again if he could just speak to you, for no other reason than to hear you laugh. But, he supposes as he slips himself into your bed reaching out towards the in between as if he can pull you from the here and there with the sheer force of his longing; he is already sort of doing that. Just like the Sea Witch keeping creatures in glass bottles he’s trying to replicate the perfect environment for you.

“Jade?”

“I’m here.” he murmurs, not daring to open his eyes just yet, instead reaching for where he thinks your face should be. “Do you hear me? It’s past your bedtime, prefect.”

“Jade.”

“It’s awfully lonely here.” He hates the way he sounds. It’s too raw, too clear with his intent to be the tease he wants it to be. “Won’t you come to bed?”

“Jade!” His eyes open, his hand lands on you, the real you, not a shade made up of his memory, he manages to crush the urge to cry and pulls you up into his embrace. Your eyes are unfocused, confused but moving towards his touch as if you were searching for it. “W-who.. I have to find…” You move, on instinct towards his heartbeat, as he slowly strokes your arms to soothe your shaking. “Jade… I’m looking for-”

“You found me.” Jade is gentle, careful as he searches over you for any sign of distress or injury, sighing in relief when he only finds confusion. It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember specifics. It doesn’t matter to him if you’ve forgotten your own name, Jade’s known and loved you for three timelines now, he’ll remind you of who you are if that’s what you want. In the meantime, he slowly encloses you in the safety of his embrace and tries not to smile too wide as you naturally relax into him. He will build you a beautiful garden in this world, and nothing will ever harm you this badly ever again, he swears it.

Leona Kingscholar

How many times has he been forced to watch you die? He’s not sure, his memory clearly doesn’t want to cooperate with him out of fear he’ll consider the failures a waste of energy, consider you wasted energy. Give in to the self-sabotaging part of him that never wanted to love you in the first place and abandon you to your fate, and yet no matter how many times he held your limp form in his arms he never had. There was something mildly addicting in the realization that you chose him in every lifetime. Not that stupid lizard or stuck up diva, him the second born, grumpy, lazy lion.

“Leona?” Your shade has always been able to speak, and Leona’s always been able to hear it. It’s like you’re trying to retrace your steps through time, starting with your meeting in the botanical gardens up to your stay in his room. He tries to tell himself you’re like a flea burrowing its way into his skin, irritating in your presence, unwelcome. He tries to tell himself if you didn’t mean enough to this world to keep a corporeal form that you shouldn’t mean anything to him. If Twisted Wonderland rejected you then so should he.

“Leona.” He hates how alone you sound. He hates how he can see you around the gardens but can’t hear footsteps, see you sitting on the edge of the balcony but not smell you. He really wants to hate you.

“I have to… promised… Leona…”

“I’m here you know.” he mutters, half asleep under the heavy curtain of vines in the botanical gardens. “You wanna keep your promise? Then quit runnin away.” Silence. Always silence, even in his dreams no matter how hard he tries to will you back into existence. He wants to stare you down, he really does, but how is he supposed to be anything but shocked when it's really you in front of him, listless and confused.

“Leona?” You’re confused, that much is clear. He wonders, smugly as he rises without complaint for once, if his name is the only thing you remember. The flicker of fear in your eyes is something he can do without, but if you know his name then somewhere inside that empty head of yours should be the same memories that have been plaguing him.

“I hope you’re prepared.” his tail swishes in excitement, and though you remain confused he delights in how you remain unafraid. “For just what you signed up for by callin my name.”

Riddle Rosehearts

Your shadow likes to sit in the Heartslabyul rose garden. Riddle is thankful for that, his gaze is hard to avoid here. He can keep an eye on you this way while he tries to find a solution for… whatever this is. It’s sickening, really, how useless he is without a rulebook or a study guide to follow. His memories of the past time loops might be blurry but he wonders if you ever felt frustrated with him in any of them. Someone as beautiful and wonderful as you constantly choosing someone as boring as him, he wants to be proud. He wants to point out that he is clearly in the right, in some sort of way, he has to be if he was loved in any way by you. It hurts him all the more to be so useless to you, to find so little concrete about the here and there and be told by every adult he reaches out to that the only thing they know is that no one who goes there ever comes back.

His dormmates like to keep a degree of distance from you. Riddle knows that they don’t know it’s you, he’s tried to explain to them multiple times and seen as they fight hard against whatever magic is trying to erase you from Twisted Wonderland to remember clearly who you were. It’s especially hard to watch Ace and Deuce loop through their worry over you and their anger at having forgotten only to get lost in the fog once again. He had to stop himself from trying, causing your best friends pain wouldn’t bring you back to them, to him. Riddle’s stubborn, he can take the confused looks of his house when he insists they let him have a private tea party with the strange ghost that’s taken up residence in their maze.

“I’m uncertain if our professors remember what happened, but I can say with certainty some of the material has changed. It’s a relief that the quality of our education hasn’t regressed.” He pours you a cup of tea, working off of muscle memory he can’t recall the context for anymore to make it in a way you must have liked. “I’ve been taking detailed notes on what my freshmen have been learning, when you return-” his voice cracks in panic as your shadow’s outline flickers “when you return…” he tries, softer this time focusing on gently setting down the tea pot “I’ll make sure you aren’t left behind. Ace and Deuce will keep their memories this time and we’ll all get to hang out together again, you’ll always have- you always have had a place in Heartslabyul, so please, please come back.” Riddle likes to think of himself as an adult, but he pouts and cries so easily. He can feel the tears bubbling up and obscuring his vision. Hiding the view of your shadow’s shape filling in.

“Riddle?” He hiccups, undignified, unbelieving the sight he’s seeing. You look so small, so confused but still so concerned for him, pausing to reach for a napkin to wipe his tears despite how unfocused you otherwise seem to be. You reach for him, shaky but still determined. “Are you Riddle?” you whisper. “I’ve been searching for him, I promised not to let go of his hand.” Riddle reaches for your hand with both of his, leaning into you. “I’m worried he’s lonely.”

“I was.” He isn’t crying anymore, Riddle likes to think he never will again as he presses a kiss into your palm. “You can rest now prefect, you’ve made it home.”

#twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #leona kingscholar #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #jade leech x reader #jade leech

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day-drawn-blog · 6 months

Text

Part III: I meant to say, that I love you, or maybe, fear like a flame, what's happening to me.

- The Power.

Part III : Just tonight, maybe I'll rest in peace

Tags: angst, fluff, sadness, angst, fluff, then maybe eventually smut because I do love that

Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

Part IV : There is much to do and I still want to live

Part V: our futures bound, our bodies known

Part VI : these ain't my sins, I broke my chains

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours

Part VIII: your blood like wine, invites me in

Part IX: I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

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

Another day, another battle. You shut out Shadowheart's physical closeness and familiarity with Astarion out of your peripheral vision. Because you like her. And this wasn't her fault. You don't want to hate her. But something strange would happen every now and again. Walking along with everyone, during the day, you trying to keep your distance from the two, trailing behind a bit... Astarion would turn back and look at you a few times. Catching you off guard. He would smile if he caught you looking at him sometimes.

What is he playing at.

It's not like we are friends. Not like that....I help him... And we fight together. And then you almost slipped on a cliff trying to go down a cragged rock, he stayed behind a bit, and held his hand out for you. You had to hold it or you would have fallen on your face. Embarrassing. And awkward.

He was happy. Smiling.

Dealing a lot of damage. Energized. His happiness energized you too. You were glad. If being his friend meant such warmth, you would take it. Remember what you want to be. You want to serve and protect. Even those that are too proud to ask for it. Or too lost to hope.

That night at camp was a celebration. You cannot remember why. But a bard was singing. Everyone sat around the fire. Laughing, singing. Drinking. Halsin was throwing someone in the air. Laezel was lecturing Gale on the merits of working out your body as much as the mind.

Once again you were lonely in a crowd.

It's not that you were'nt surrounded by people you loved who loved you back. But, that you sat opposite him. Across the fire. Him next to shadowheart. You between wyll and karlach. Shadowheart was telling him something pouring wine for him. He was laughing at what she said, happy. What a smile. He should smile more. Though he might accidentally show his fangs. You didn't realize you were inadvertently staring at his face. He locked eyes with you. You jolted and looked away.

Dammit.

It's embarrassing as it is, you keep his secret and let him drink you. This ...this is crossing the line even for you. While you looked away from him, your face solemn, between two happy people, Astarion couldn't help but notice. He felt sad. For you. You had helped him so much. Yet you were so sad yourself. He felt powerless. He resolved to come talk to you when he could tear himself away.

You didn't want to linger.

You got up. Took your sword. A bottle. And sulked into the darkness. Away from the merriment. Guilty of leaving those having fun. But you needed to channel your energy. You swing your weapon at a tree a few times, then practiced some moves by yourself. The noise fades away. Your mind quietened. You stopped to catch your breath. To take in the view.

It was breathtaking.

As you were lost taking in the river gleaning in the moonlight in the valley down the cliff, you heard someone approach.

"I saw you leave. I got you some wine". Astarion's smiling face appeared from the shadows. He handed you the bottle. You gratefully accepted. "it's beautiful out here".

Yes it was.

"shall we? :) Everyone is happy back at camp. Come join them" he beckoned. As if he had sought you out just to escort you back. You obliged. Walking back, he expressed his gratitude, and asked if he could come visit you again. That familiar feeling of being used...

But you couldn't say no.

After the merriment of the night, you went back to your tent. Dreading the encounter. Your heart was beating so fast in anticipation of this secret rendezvous. Why did it feel so wrong, yet so exciting. Images of his eyes, his face close to you, bent on your hand, flashed across. The alcohol must be getting to you. You paced around the tent. Shortly after, you heard him approach.

Your heart almost stopped.

He stumbled in. Had he been drinking so much? Shadowheart did make him drink a lot, but still. He ran his fingers through his hair. Smiled his charming smile and came inside. "Are you ready, darling? I can't wait, I'm positively famished" he said reeking of alcohol.

Ugh. Whatever. He is not even in his senses.

What was I expecting. You went to him, half expecting having to support him, but he just plopped down on your pillows. On his back. He beckoned you to come near him. Clearly lacking any energy to sit up. So you sat next to him. Extending your left arm to him. He held it, then smelled your arm. Taking you in.

Weird. You thought.

He then playfully licked your hand, while looking at you. Entwined his fingers with yours, and kissed them again. You could sense your heat rising in you. Your heart pounding, feeling warm down there. What a tease. Just get on with it and be done.

He did something very unusual.

He continued to kiss the back of your hand, trailing up ever so slightly, then licked your hands up and then slowly down a bit back to your fingertips. He then turned your hand over and kissed your palm. He was on his back the whole time.

Does he think you are her?

What is he doing? You were getting flustered, humiliated...but you didn't want him to stop. You were greedy. Just when you were about to ask him, he bit you. The sharp pang was surprising this time. He wasn't being gentle, you let out a little moan, looking away, then dropping down next to him. You felt drained. The feelings were too much to handle.

Principles be damned.

You want to savor the moment. The man you yearn for, right next to you. Your shoulders touching. Lying on your back, next to each other, hearing each other's breath. His face so close to you, with your hand on his lips. His thighs next to yours. You want to touch him...

But can you?

You shouldn't. Must not. Maintain your dignity. You urged yourself. Please. You don't want to stoop so low. He let go... With another kiss on your hand, he licked the droplets, then turned to look at you. You could smell the alcohol again. His eyes were happy, he was smiling. He looked nothing like the deceptive manipulative rogue you think he is, at that time. Just someone, very happy, very safe, very content.

Isn't shadowheart waiting?

You wanted to ask. But it wasn't your place. So you let him be. He held your hand in his. Entwined your fingers. And he showed no signs of getting up. Much to your panic. Is he going to be here all night? He can't be planning to? You propped yourself up on your elbows. To get a look at his face. But he was already asleep!

This....son of a gun!! He was passed right out.

Part IV : There is much to do and I still want to live

#astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #vampire

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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From the goddamn moment he was born, Lance did not know peace.

Okay, yes, he’s being a little dramatic. But in his defense, he really hasn’t ever known peace — you try living with nine older sisters on a farm. That shit is hard. Lance didn’t experience silence until he was four years old, only a delicate child, and at the time it frightened him. He’s been surrounded by noise and chaos (and more noise, somehow) since his inception, basically.

So you can understand why the castle is kind of a nightmare for him.

Growing up, whenever he was annoyed by his family (which was frequently), he would stomp off the the barn and yell about how when he was grown, he was going to move out to a private beach house and never hear another soul again. He’d bitch and moan to the cattle about how he couldn’t wait to grow up and finally sleep in a room all his own, with no annoying sisters or nosy roommates or anything, really. He’d mutter about it every time Hunk read his journal, fume about it every time his sisters banged on the bathroom door and yelled at him to hurry up. He swore up and down to everyone that would listen that when he finally found peace there would not be a goddamn thing in the world and beyond that would stop him from protecting it.

Well, then he got his peace, in the form of a castle that doubled as a graveyard. His own room, for once in his life, and not a single person to bother him unless it was life threatening, basically.

And oh, how Lance hated it.

He tossed and turned like no one’s business on the first days, but brushed it off as getting used to a new space. And as he kept tossing and turning, night after night, getting maybe three hours of scattered sleep of he was lucky, he continued to blame it on a myriad of things: fear of a freaky haunted castle, weirdly stiff Altean beds, freezing cold castle temperatures, nightmares. All true things, of course, but eventually Lance had to concede — the castle was too goddamn quiet.

Tough pill to swallow, that one.

He’d tried to handle it himself. Stole Pidge’s headphones, hummed out loud to himself; hell, he even left the bathroom sink running for some white noise. None of it worked. None of it was the same as the constant sound of someone breathing right next to you, the grumbles of their snores and strange mutterings of their sleep-talk. The very thing Lance hated with a passion turned out to be the one thing that actually helped his insomniac ass actually sleep. Mother nature, you trick-ass bitch. You have a personal problem.

Now, of course there was an easy solution to this. He shared the castle with six other people — one of them his Garrison roommate! Surely, he could bunk with someone else.

But… no one else seemed to have trouble sleeping. At least, not for the same reason as Lance. And as much as Lance liked to play the obnoxious role, as much as nothing was funnier than pushing just the right buttons to make someone else explode… he couldn’t be that much of a nuisance. It was too much.

So Lance got real used to being sleep deprived.

Of course, he wasn’t stupid about it. He never went more than three days without sleep. On particularly rough nights, he’d crash Hunk or Pidge’s rooms raving about a sleepover, or convince the rest of the team that they should have a movie night, and then just happen to fall asleep right there on the couch. By circumstance, he and Shiro ended up helping each other out pretty often, too — the black paladin was kept up by nightmares about as often as Lance was by plain old insomnia. The man was usually too proud to accept Lance’s help, but every once in a while he allowed it, and they both slept soundly, for once.

Keith, though?

His help was a surprise.

Keith, as it turns out, has as much pent-up energy as the goddamn Energizer Bunny on steroids. On days they don’t have missions that will pump them full of so much adrenaline their hearts are at risk, he trains himself to exhaustion, else he’ll be up all night.

Training with him doesn’t do anything for Lance’s insomnia. It does, however, do wonders for their relationship.

Without Lance’s permission, angry, after-hour fights evolve into playfully competitive spars. Those spars evolve into genuine lessons, both of them teaching each other things neither ever considered learning before. (Turns out Lance’s flexibility comes in handy in swordfights, and Keith’s reflexes lead to excellent pistol work. Who knew?) And then, week by week, month by month, those late nights turn into a tension so thick that neither of them can bear it.

It may have been Keith to make the first move, but Lance thinks he deserves some credit. They wouldn’t be here without his complete inability to sleep like a normal person, after all.

The great thing about dating someone, though, is that eventually, bed-sharing comes into the mix. Eventually both parties start looking for excuses to stay in each other’s space just a little bit longer.

Lord above, is it ever a relief.

No longer does Lance need to desperately look for an excuse after seventy-two straight hours of prying his eyes open. Now he justs follows Keith to his room when the night cycle starts, wrapping around him like an octopus and stealing his warmth like a leech. Keith is the worst, most annoying sleeper in the world — he snores, he tosses and turns, and regularly talks and even yells in his sleep — and Lance fucking relishes it. It is a relief of biblical proportions to finally be able to have a good night’s rest, on a regular fucking basis.

It does, though, make nights when he has to sleep in his own room that much worse.

He doesn’t even have to, technically. Like, there’s no indication that Keith ever wants him to go back. In fact, the man always pouts when Lance stops at his own door, muttering petulantly to himself as he presses a kiss to Lance’s forehead and makes his way to his own room. Honestly, Keith would probably like it if Lance moved into his room, for good.

Lance bites his lip, considering.

Still. He doesn’t want to be annoying.

But there’s no way to know unless he goes for it, right?

“Hey, babe,” Lance tries, testing the waters. They’re both in the bathroom, getting ready for bed; Keith braiding his hair as Lance applies a myriad of skin products to his face. “Do you think you could make some room in your dresser for my socks? And, like, other clothes?”

Is it a coward’s way to voice what he’s really asking? Yeah. But Lance is nervous, okay? Cut him some slack. If this backfires then he’s back to sleeping twice a fuckin’ week.

Keith stills. He abandons his hair, turning slowly to face Lance. Lance looks away, fiddling with the hem of his pajama shirt.

“Lance,” Keith says, placing both hands on his shoulders. He’s quiet until Lance finally looks up at him.

“Yeah?”

Keith’s face is mission-level serious; eyebrows drawn together over dark indigo eyes, mouth set in a firm line.

“I would reach my hands into a live fire and swallow hot coals for you if you asked me to. Do you understand that?”

There’s a beat of silence. Keith’s expression remains unmoving, dead-serious, entirely unfazed by what he just said.

Lance bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking under Keith’s heavy hands, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Keith’s collarbones.

God. This is Keith. Why was he nervous, again?

“I just need a couple drawers, doofus. No need for theatrics.”

Keith presses a kiss to his hair. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page. Yes, by the way. I cleared out half my shit weeks ago. I’ve been waiting for you to finally move all the way in.”

Lance smiles, hidden against Keith’s shirt.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He never has to worry about sleep again.

———

based off this video

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anamoon63 · 5 days

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OC Deep Dive Questionnaire Tag

A set of 20 questions to get to know your OC!

For this one I chose Anika, she was born in game, but she's the daughter of Allan Wilson, my most important Sims 4 OC, (if not the only one, lol), so I consider her an OC as well.

I was tagged by @matchalovertrait. Thank you very much for thinking of me. 🤗💗

Anika Wilson

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

Anika's greatest fear is losing her parents, especially Allan, with whom she's very close.

Do they have any pet peeves?

She hates school, mostly doing homework, lol.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Her phone, her computer, and her diary (all three indispensable to her).

What do they notice first in a person?

The way they look, and whether they're kind or not.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

If it is physical pain, maybe a 5, if it is emotional, due to her difficult childhood and her parents' problems, she has developed some tolerance, so it would probably be an 8.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

It depends on the situation, if there are many people around, it is almost always flight mode.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Anika's family (The Wilsons) is rather large, six in total. She's definitely a family person and loves her own.

What animal represents them best?

Probably a cat, because she is a bit spoiled, requires a lot of attention, and sometimes isn't very sociable.

What is a smell that they dislike?

She hates the smell of alcoholic drinks, as they bring back very bad memories.

Have they broken any bones?

No, and let's hope it never happens to her.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Daddy's girl, a little spoiled, shy, cute and smart.

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

A morning bird, mostly.

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

She loves everything sweet and dislikes bitter flavors.

Do they have any hobbies?

Yes, she likes to read, write and paint.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Anika is rather shy and not very sociable, so she doesn't enjoy parties much, let alone surprises. She hates awkward or embarrassing situations, so she prefers to know what is going to happen at every moment.

Do they like to wear jewelry?

Not really, just her earrings and occasionally a watch, but Anika focuses more on clothing than accessories.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

More like messy. Although she loves to write and, as a child, her greatest dream was to become a writer.

What are two emotions they feel the most?

Energized and Flirty. (In game emotions)

Do they have a favorite fabric?

None in particular, but she likes fabrics that are pretty and comfortable.

What kind of accent do they have?

Wow, I really don't know, but I imagine living in Del Sol Valley must be something like living in Hollywood, California, so a California accent, maybe? 🤔

And that would be all, note that some of my answers came more out of how I imagine my character, rather than what you can actually see in game.

Bonus: Two more pictures of Anika, with her siblings at high school prom, and with her beloved Alexander.

Thank you so much again @matchalovertrait for tagging me, this was a lot of fun! 🥰

I'm tagging @expirisims, @changingplumbob, @berrycactus, @bool-prop, @dandylion240, @kimmiessimmies , @nocturnalazure, @sweetpyxels, @treason-and-plot , @miss-may-i , @sharona-sims and anyone else who wants to do this. ☺️

#tag game #tags #the sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #anika wilson #my sims 4 OCs #los sims de ana #anamoon63 sims

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theewokingdead · 1 year

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Chapter One - Timing is Everything (Benny x f!Reader)

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!Reader Summary: Living in Colorado, Benny struggles to deal with what happened in Colombia. A chance encounter starts to change his life - and yours. Word Count: 2.5k+ Rating: Explicit 18+ (for eventual smut in future chapters) Content: Language, PTSD, broody Benny. A/N: This series has been floating in my head since December. I can't listen to Garrett Hedlund's music without thinking about it. As always, thanks to @icanbeyourjedi and @musings-of-a-rose for offering some suggestions and encouraging me to write this. Please follow and turn on notifications for @theewokingdeadwrites to know when I update.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Benny never used to hate the rain.

As a child, he loved donning his green rubber boots and matching raincoat to jump in the puddles. He loved wrestling in the mud with his brother, Will; the constant losses he endured in his younger years fueled his growth into a young man who could complete against someone older and bigger. He loved fishing with his dad in the drizzle, the drops knocking gnats and other various bugs into the water, giving the fish a good meal and making them easier to catch. Most of all, he loved when it signaled that spring, and soon after summer, was on its way.

As an adult, Benny continued to find comfort and joy in the rain, even while crawling in the mud and running laps or completing missions in the pouring rain. The storms that frightened others made him feel energized – alive. He always longed for home, and the rain kept him close to it, the smell in the air always the same no matter where he was.

Benny loved the rain. Loved. The mission in Colombia changed everything.

Despite his intentions of making a fresh start in Colorado, as the cold rain beats against him, memories of Colombia flood his mind. It’s all so clear. The drops drenching his body as they stalked Lorea’s compound, his gloved hands gripping the gun he prayed he wouldn’t have to use. The way his wet clothes clung to him when he walked in the room to see Will injured on the floor, fearing the worst for just a moment before swallowing all emotion to focus on getting his brother – brothers - to safety. The chill in his bone as he shivered under the rock on the mountain, trying to focus on listening to the droplets as they hit the leaves, but only hearing the terrified cries of the innocent children on the cocaine farm, the sorrowful screams of their elders.

“You’re a good man, Benny,” Will had said to him. Yet hours later, he was quick to blame him for Tom's death, the fire he demanded they light to keep warm leading the vengeful villagers right to them. Santi denied that it was anyone’s fault, but Benny knows, deep down, that he is the reason for the folded flag on the living room shelf of the Davis’ home.

The smell of freshly roasted espresso permeates his nostrils, bringing him back to the present. Desperate to find refuge from the downpour, his feet carried him into a little coffee shop. Rain drips from the bill of his hat and his body trembles with cold. He sweeps the hat off his head and lightly shakes the water off, giving the room a quick glimpse of his golden hair.

Benny looks around, seeing the shop is small and warm. Large, plush couches fill the front, the small tables between them covered with books and board games. Wood and metal barstools line the length of the counter, where a single barista is smiling at him.

“Hello!” the barista greets, her liveliness a stark contrast to the dreary day outside. “What can I get started for you?”

Benny isn’t sure what to order. He’s not much of a coffee drinker and isn’t in the mood to venture trying one of those fancy coffees everyone seems to rave about.

“I’ll, uh…” He glances up at the menu for a moment before looking back at the barista, her smile friendly, warm, and patient. “I’ll have a small dark roast, please.”

“Cream or sugar?”

“Neither, thanks,” Benny replies. In his mind, there’s a joke about how he likes his coffee like his soul: dark and bitter. But she’s probably heard it a million times, and, truth be told, he’s not really in a joking mood.

“Anything else? We have all sorts of baked goods. Croissants, bagels, cake pops…”

“Uhh…” He briefly examines the glass case, not wanting to disappoint the barista by saying no. “How about a cookie? Chocolate chip?”

“Not much of a risk taker, are you?” she playfully jests, reaching into the case to pull out a large, gooey cookie. She places it in a small paper bag then slides it across the counter toward him, adding with a wink, “Good choice.”

After paying for his order, Benny turns to find a spot to sit, choosing one of the small tables lining the far wall of the shop. Taking a sip of his coffee, he catches a glance at his surroundings. The rain seems to have kept customers at bay, the shop surprisingly empty for the time of day. There are only a few people here, working away on laptops or reading from textbooks and notebooks scattered in front of them, clearly students from the university down the street.

Benny envies them - they have their whole lives ahead of them, not yet spoiled by the brutalities of the world. He was their age when life brutally taught him just how fragile it can be – too fucking young to know it. Too young to be tricked into fighting someone else’s war, to watch the soldiers – his friends – get blown to bits.

He evaded far too many close calls, and every single time he was asked the same question: How’d you get so lucky?

Lucky. The word always made Benny internally scoff. Is it really lucky to be in the right place at the wrong time? Is it lucky to be the one left behind to wonder why it was them and not him?

Guess it wasn’t my time, he’d always reply with a shrug and a grin, always using his boyish charm and sense of humor to mask the pain within, not letting anyone see that he was constantly wondering Why?

Cradling his coffee with both hands, Benny watches the steam rise out of the cup and into the air, lost in thought. He thinks of his eighteenth birthday, of the phone call with Will when he told him his plan to enlist. Stay where you belong, Will had said, all but begging him not to follow him into the military. But Benny’s mind was made up and he was too bullheaded to listen. I go where you go, Will.

He can’t help but wonder where he’d be in life had he listened to his brother just the one damn time. Things wouldn’t necessarily be better, just different. Different than the hell he’s been living the last three and a half years, brought on by the mental war he fights inside himself nearly every damn day.

As it always does when he gets too deep in thought, Benny’s mind spirals, a series of what-its seeping in and taking over. Emotions flare from the dormant images that flash in his brain. Benny feels himself slipping into the abyss, spiraling back in time toa nother place, and he knows he has to ground himself.

Rising to his feet, he moves to the counter. “Excuse me, ma’am… Do you have a pen I can borrow?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” the barista replies with a smile, finding a pen near the register and holding it out for him to take. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

In the months since he returned to Colorado, the past has increasingly creeped into his mind, his thoughts harder to contain than ever before. He never knows what the catalyst will be – the blood oozing from an injured animal, a gunshot ringing in the distance, the backfire of his father’s old farm truck, the rumble of thunder, even the smell of fresh paint. He feels like a fucking child again, always afraid – except now it’s not the boogeyman lurking around the corner, but his past.

Though work around the farm keeps him physically exhausted, it doesn’t help him move through his feelings the way fighting used to. Fighting required him to be completely present and focused, forcing him to learn how to quiet the negative and judgmental voices in his head. It allowed him to forget his problems – at least temporarily. Benny had to find a new outlet, and it quickly became writing.

He keeps a journal tucked under his mattress, his old hiding spot for Playboys that Will used to sneak him now a safe space for all his deepest, darkest thoughts. His English teachers always commended him in school for his writing, but it was never something he cared to pursue, staying away from what others boys deemed “sissy shit.” But now it’s the only thing that helps him make sense of his emotions and ease his pain; the only thing that helps him communicate what he’s feeling – even if it’s only the four walls of his bedroom that hears the lyrics he wrote as he strums on his old guitar.

Benny doesn’t know how long he sits there, pouring his soul onto white coffee shop napkins. He purges the words from his brain, bold black ink furiously spewing the thoughts that poison him. The more the pen moves, the freer he feels. He doesn’t stop, writing until his fingers are numb, his hand cramping.

After filling two napkins with his thoughts and ideas, Benny stops to peruse what he wrote, circling and making notes near keywords before moving onto a third napkin to create some sort of order out of the chaos. He jots down lyrics, crossing out wrong words and replacing them with ones that seem to fit better. It pours out easily at first, a couple verses about luck and fate and how they’re bullshit – put in less harsh words.

But he loses steam as quickly as it had come, finding it hard to get the words to rhyme or flow properly, not even able to find the right words. Just about everything feels off; it just doesn’t work. He’s not even sure what direction, if any, the song is headed in. Maybe that’s the problem: it lacks direction.

Sighing in frustration, Benny sets the pen down and checks the watch on his wrist.

“Shit,” he utters, realizing he stayed too long at the coffee shop. Now he’ll need to hurry to his appointment at the Driver’s License Office – something he’s already put off for far too long. Something about updating his license makes it all feel final, like there’s no going back to Tampa or his life as an MMA fighter. It should make him excited to close that chapter, but he has no idea what the next chapter holds. For the first time in his life, that scares him.

After scrambling to gather his things, he sets the borrowed pen down on the counter and hastily thanks the barista once more while quickly walking the remaining distance to the door. Using his shoulder to nudge the door open, he stops to peer out at the rain, drops beating heavily on the awning above him. Before taking another step, he hears a voice, which causes him to pause.

“Wait! Wait!”

Benny’s head snaps in the direction of the noise, his eyes locking on a figure running through the sheets of rain in his direction. He’s confused, watching as the figure emerges from the gloom and stops after reaching the safety of the awning. He sees that you have one arm tucked into the front of your coat, the other stretching the material to keep whatever you appear to be smuggling safe.

“Thank you!” you say breathlessly, knowing you would have struggled to open the door if he hadn’t come out at the right time. “Thank you so much, uh-”

“Benny,” he replies, a hint of confusion in his voice as he stares at you, water dripping from your clothes and nose.

“Benny,” you repeat, flipping a piece of wet hair out of your face, revealing a pair of the most beautiful eyes, a mix of colors that make him want to look closer. The face surrounding those remarkable eyes is just as stunning.

Letting your coat out of your clutch, you remove your arm, revealing a stack of papers in your hand.

“Would you like one?” you question, offering him a flyer. “Hot off the press, and, somehow, perfectly dry.”

“Thanks,” Benny says, accepting the paper with his free hand, looking down at it with confusion. “I’ll, uh… I’ll do my best to keep it that way.”

“Be ready for a very thorough inspection the next time I see you,” you tease in a serious tone.

“Yes, ma’am,” Benny replies, which forces your mouth to twist into a smile, small but pretty enough to bring a man to his knees. Benny would do anything to never see it leave your face. “I hope I don’t disappoint.”

You softly stare up at his bright blue eyes, eyes that draw you in and seem to hold you captive. A flush creeps up on to your cheeks, ashamed of the scenarios your dirty mind instantly conjured up. Just the sound of those two simple words sends blood pumping to your core. Are you really so sex deprived that you’re thinking about a stranger attending to your needs? You curl your lips inward and gently bite down while dropping your eyes to the ground, hoping he doesn’t notice how flustered you’ve become.

“Well… Thanks again, Benny. Hope to see you again soon.”

Benny’s gaze follows you as you cross the threshold into the shop, watching as you walk up to the counter and drop the papers. Then, he turns and looks out into the rain, trying to processes what just happened, missing the glance you give over your shoulder. A soft smile on his face, he runs into rain. Somehow, the drops feel warmer than they did earlier that day.

As he walks into the driver's license building, he mindlessly hums the melody of a song that he’s not yet written.

After dropping the stack of freshly printed flyers on the counter, you disappear into the back of the shop to change into fresh clothes that you keep tucked away – you lost count of how many spills and other various mishaps happened before you learned your lesson to keep spares on hand.

Once you reemerge, you immediately get to work, using the lull in customers to tidy up the space. Bending down to pick up a discarded napkin on the floor near the tables lining the far wall, you see that it’s just than just garbage. It’s filled with handwritten notes, the handwriting beautiful, neat, and unique, almost like a font. The first letter of each word and every ‘A’ is capitalized. The words themselves are just as beautiful, the lines seeming to read like a poem – or maybe a song? A few words are crossed out and replaced with another, arrows drawn to indicate that parts should be moved, but you comprehend what’s intended.

I’ve had close calls

When it could’ve been me

I was young when I learned just how fragile life can be

I lost friends of mine

I guess it wasn’t my time

When you look up, wondering who could’ve written something so beautiful, tears swim in your eyes. Even though you don't know the author, it feels like you’ve peeked directly into their soul, and for some unknown reason, you feel compelled to share your own in return.

#benny miller #benjamin miller #benjamin benny miller #benny miller x you #benny miller x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fan fiction #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund x you #garrett hedlund x reader #garrett hedlund characters #garrett hedlund fanfiction #timing is everything series #catie writes

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fox-daddy · 19 days

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So due to the nature of this weeks prompt being things that are the same and different I'll be focusing on each of my Mc's in general and when it comes to their relationship with Asra and Julian since their the only M6 to have cannon interaction with Mc pre-plague and I'm going to keep it like that for my Mc's.

With that said spoilers for Mc's past and why they have amnesia and a small glimpse into my Mc's relationship with Julian pre-plague.

Kyle;

One of the biggest differences between pre-plague and post-plague Kyle is his magic. Pre-plague Kyle had very strong air based magic, the element of freedom, creativity, connections, change, and chaos. While Post-plague Kyle has more varied magic, being stronger in earth and water-based magic than he's ever been and gaining new skills with the fire element. Overall, it becomes a lot more balanced in his abilies.

Due to an event when Kyle was ten-years-old, he gained a fear of fire. However, this wasn't that big of a fear being more nervous dealing with fire but overall covered by a curiosity and deep enjoyment for watching fire flickering in a fireplace or candle. Post plague Kyle still finds fire interesting to watch. However, due to being burned alive, even if he doesn't fully remember, it has left its scars. The most obvious is that his small fear has turned into a big fear but not quiet phobia. They can watch a candle burn or sit by a fire, but the moment they have to cast fire or put something on the fire their tensing up a bit and slightly squinting their eyes.

A less obvious change is how Kyle has more control over himself after his death. Not a lot it's not like he went from Lucio levels of hyper to Muriel level of calm but while Pre-Plague Kyle would find it harder to keep calm in a place around people with high energy and likewise getting more sleepy when around tired people. Post-plague Kyle is able to focus more on how he actually feels. Although he can still energize himself with the crowds energy if he needs to.

Kyle and Asra;

Right off the bat, their relationship pre-plague was a bit complicated. They weren't an official couple, but they almost acted so much like it that most people who didn't know them would assume they were dating. Due to this, they never really had a time where they became a couple. Rather, it happened so slowly that it just unofficially became a thing.

Pre-Plague Kyle was harder to read for Asra while both versions find Asra just as hard to understand. As this has little to do with their soul connection and more due to the fact Kyle did things that didn't make as much sense as everything else he did. While most of these were small, little things like flinching at large clouds overhead or hissing like a cat at certain things. It could be excused if it wasn't for the fact that Kyle almost always seemed to act with some sort of logic behind it.

Pre-Plague Kyle did not appreciate Asra sneaking up on them as it was quickly established as something they shouldn't do unless they wanted Kyle being annoyed if not angry at them. Yet Post-plague Kyle not only is fine with it but will typically jump before laughing and playfully joke about Asra giving him a heart attack.

Kyle and Julian;

They didn't really know each other very well with Kyle not studying under Julian for very long before moving to the lazaret where they felt they were more needed to look after the sick rather than feel useless running between doctors. Post plague, they actually have more the chance to interact and to become closer.

Hunter;

The biggest change is their temperament. Hunter pre-plague was way more aggressive and willing to use their skills to take down any bully's in bars and taverns. While Post-plague Hunter is a lot calmer. While their not afraid to stand up for people their less likely to go out with the goal of finding trouble. (Even if they technically never start anything.)

One word,'hate'. Pre-Plague Hunter has a lot of hate and anger at how they were raised at a young age being taught over and over that their a natural monster and that this is who they are, what their good at, being a monster. While not all of that is erased by their amnesia, this leaves a deep-seated anger, they don't fully understand. However, Post-plague Hunter has more of the tools to be able to redirect that anger into something else.

Pre-Plague Hunter understood their anger and pain a lot more than Post-Plague Hunter, knowing why they feel the way they do. Having a deeper understanding of who they are and why they are like the way they are. As Pre-plague Hunter sees themselves like a shattered glass only able to cut while Post-plague Hunter sees themselves more like a street dog, hurt and angry and sometimes violent but not broken.

This also leads Hunter post-plague into being more kind to themselves and being in general more happy without their past holding them in a choke grip.

Hunter and Asra;

Pre-plague they weren't dating, and while it could've happened with some more time, they didn't have more time. The biggest difference between pre and post plague Hunter when it came to boundaries. Being unable to speak or understand themselves meant that during the beginning their was a lot they both had to learn.

For example, pre plague Hunter spent a lot of time at the magic shop before they met Asra. Being brought back to ground zero after being brought back to life. This had to do with physical touch and gifts but also in other small areas. Although that isn't to say everything is worse post-plague quiet the opposite. Over time, Hunter was able to accept touch and gifts more easily and even learn to seek out comfort when they need it rather than try and deal with it on their own like they used to.

Hunter and Julian;

Unlike Kyle, Hunter spent a good amount of time amount of time with Julian. Only leaving after they caught the plague. Due to this, when thinking of Hunter back then compared to now even Julian can tell Hunter is more passive. Which isn't to say much compared to most people, yet this speaks volumes when it comes to how they interact with each other.

Pre-plague Hunter had no deeper care for Julian or themselves outside doing their work and learning from the doctors. Them having little care about themselves was something Julian could tell from their almost reckless behavior at times. Even when they had the plague, having to be told by someone else to leave before valdemar got their hands on them. Especially since they worked closely with valdemar.

Bluebell;

The biggest change is their nervousness. Pre-plague Bluebell is a lot more nervous and shy, wanting to be the background character in someone else story. If their ignored, they won't be hurt. Yet Post-plague Bluebell is still quiet and soft-spoken. However, they are a lot more open to making new friends and being social.

Pre-plague Bluebell would rather be out of peoples eyes, and yet Post-plague Bluebell finds themselves wanting to prove themselves as capable of looking after themselves.

Asra and Bluebell;

Honestly, the biggest difference is that it's easier for Asra to convince Post-plague Bluebell that they actually deserve to be happy. That theirs more you can have from life than just living.

Another difference is more around Bluebells own perspective. As pre-plague Bluebell had little to prove and even less to lose while post-plague Bluebell both feels like they need to prove to Asra that they can look after themselves even before they actually could. (While this could easily be hand waved as Bluebell not liking, feeling vulnerable due to what happened to them during their vulnerable times in their life as a young child. It can go deeper than that back to going from babied and abused to free but having to be fully self-reliant or die trying.)

Julian and Bluebell;

To be honest their in a more similar boat with Kyle not having a lot of connection to Julian. However, breaking cannon a little because Bluebell breaks cannon a little having wings, tail and ear feathers Julian did know they went to the lazaret. Having actually been the one to convince them, they shouldn't hang around valdemar in case they found out Bluebell had the plague. What's more curios than a normal human? one with wings and a tail.

Despite that, most of their interactions were brief and quick. With Bluebell not really enjoying speaking and once again wanting to be a background character more than anything and Julian being drowned in his work.

#the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fan apprentice #the arcana apprentice #the arcana spoilers #vesuvia weekly #things that changed #mc kyle #mc hunter #mc bluebell

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superstar-nan · 3 months

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Fight Tooth and Nail: Ch 6

Summary: You argue with Michael, find a crucial clue while looking at old photos with him, and decide to drop by Springtrap for a visit.

Words: 4,957

Fun stuff: Descriptions of undead bodies. Not many warnings this time around (for once).

───── (\ /) ─────

You woke strangely well-rested. Even in the haze of waking up you knew you should’ve felt exhausted and depleted, but you were oddly energized.

You sat up, propping yourself up one arm at a time. You looked up at Michael, who was tapping away, engrossed in keeping you two alive. You looked at the clock. It was almost the end of his shift. After being electrocuted, you passed out next to his swivel seat. That was disappointing, since you found nothing. You searched the entire place and found nothing .

Well, you didn’t check the other vent, but you weren’t that stupid.

Or were you...

No, you weren’t. At least not tonight.

You reached back aimlessly and snatched the control panel. Michael looked annoyed, but too busy to stop you from helping him. You began tapping on the panel, and you took a little pride in seeing the corpse’s shoulders ease in tension. The least you could do was to help ease the burden, even if just a little.

After setting into a comfortable rhythm, you noticed the dull aches in your arm and legs. You rolled your arm experimentally, the one you had twisted to pull the taser against the vent, felt pulled but not strained. You were happy about that. You were less happy with your legs, who were crusted with dried blood from where the rotted Bonnie had grabbed you with his claws. Inspecting them, the wounds weren’t deep but you would still scrub them endlessly. Plus, you would have to get a tetanus shot.

Then your gaze fell to your other hand. The one the animatronic held gently in a mock form of intimacy. It wasn’t injured in the slightest, but you wish it had been. You wished you could burn the skin off your palm where that featherlight touch held you, and you wished that after setting your own hand aflame it would somehow start his, burning him to death. Metal and rot interlocking your fingers filled your mind with angry obsession and it was the only thing you could think about. Metal and rot and metal and rot and metal and rot and metal and-

“Audio,” Michael whispered, and it snapped you out of your hatred. You tapped the ventilation with the hand that was burning with the animatronics.

You let out a sigh and leaned your head against Michael’s thigh. Michael’s own tapping stalled for a second, and his flesh depressed under the pressure of your head like memory foam (which should’ve caused flips in your stomach, but you were getting used to Michael’s state of undeath). You wondered if you were hurting him and almost lifted your head, but he resumed his checking, so you did as well.

You knew all this anger and hatred wasn’t healthy, and the fact that the killer enjoyed your hatred was even more of a warning. But it was easy . You had all this grief and fear, and if you didn’t weaponize it then it would eat you alive. You couldn’t think of the fate of your best friend because you were too busy looking for them. You couldn’t have your heart broken by their disappearance because your heart was being used to spit hatred at the one who hurt them. You couldn’t fear for their or your own safety because you were too busy fighting the thing threatening them in the first place.

In a sick twist of fate, you were glad that the animatronic was there, and wasn’t some murdered child you had to pity or a robot with no sense of morality. He was terrible, and that meant you could hate him instead of hating yourself for missing your best friend’s call when they needed you most.

The ding-dong of Michael’s alarm startled you. You looked up at the corpse as he turned off the alarm. His shift was over. You lived another night, and were still no closer to finding out what happened to them.

“You lied to me,” Michael whispered.

You checked your phone, head still resting on Michael’s thigh. The new security guard would show up soon. “You want to talk about this now? Can’t we talk when we get home?”

He scoffed, “You don’t seriously think I’m going to let you stay with me again?”

“Why not?” You tilted your head up to match his void eyes, “I’m going to keep coming back, whether you help me or not.”

He growled under his breath, a low rumble deep in his throat that sounded more discontent than threatening, “There’s the honesty...”

You went back to tapping your phone, “You wouldn’t have told me what was going on if I said I was coming back.”

“ Obviously! ” He snapped, jostling you from your ‘pillow’, “To keep you safe! ”

“I came prepared,” You stood up, stretching your legs and popping your shoulders. “You can’t say my toy distractions weren’t clever.”

“Oh yeah, so clever,” Sarcasm dripped from his tongue like acid. “So clever, in fact, that you weren’t almost killed in the vent.”

You wanted to be grateful he saved you, yet again. You wanted to make it up to him or show him your appreciation, you really did. But he was making it unbearably hard. “I had that handled.”

He was so dumbfounded, he stopped putting on his mask and turned to you. You tried hard not to sweat.

You broke under the pressure of his stare, “I almost had it handled.”

He put his mask down—you really must’ve made him annoyed if he would ignore the risk of being seen just to prove a point—and forcefully pushed a few buttons, before hitting one final button and leaning back in his chair, looking at you pointedly.

You tilted your head in question, then he nodded to the camera. It was the vent, but it was empty. The timestamp said 0:54 with the seconds counting and the day’s date.

Then you heard your own voice, “CLOSE THE VENT MICHAEL!”

He stopped the tape and crossed his arms. Well, that was embarrassing.

“...The security footage is taped?” You asked, “Can I see previous nights?”

“ Not the point ,” He hissed through his teeth. “ You are so blind to-! ”

“Whoa, lovers quarrel?” The day shift security guard knocked on the door frame. Good thing, too. You were worried a second there that your recorded cry for help would attract the animatronic, even after the night shift ended.

Michael swiveled away from the day shift guard, rushing for his mask, while you stood up to block the view. “Honestly, he’s so mean to me. He doesn’t like my taste in breakfast diners.” You said in a playful tone, “You should tell him to be nice to his partner.”

The day shift guard laughed sociably as Michael stood and grabbed his backpack, “I’m sure the diner they picked isn’t that bad, Mike.”

Michael hummed noncommittally while you interlocked your fingers with his. You held his hand with the untouched hand, with the hand the animatronic didn’t caress with violence and hunger. You did that on purpose.

The day shift guard cleared his throat, “Or maybe their taste isn’t so great...” That seemed like it had double meaning.

“See you tomorrow,” You waved at the day shift guard as you left with Michael, who stared daggers into you. You raised your eyebrows at him in response.

When the door shut behind you, the sunrise was too bright but welcome all the same. You felt the relief of fresh air and warmth that you missed while in the building. Somehow, it even relieved you of your hatred, worries, and grief—if just for one moment.

Michael swiped his hand back, “ ‘See you tomorrow?’ ” He said, his voice like gravel and ash.

“I’m coming back,” You said adamantly, your eyes narrowing at him as you stuffed your hands in your pockets to fish for your keys.

He growled your name in a warning tone, but you interrupted him.

“ I’m coming back. ” You settled your voice to be more firm, “And I’ll keep coming back, whether we work together or not.” You pulled out your keys. “We could help each other. I could help you kill-”

“You don’t know what I want.” He interrupted you, and you closed your mouth. He was right, you didn’t know what he wanted. Maybe he didn’t want to kill his dad at all? From the way he talked about him, there didn’t seem to be any love lost, but maybe you misread the situation? Or maybe he just didn’t know how?

“You’re right. I don’t,” You swallowed, “But if you told me-”

He exhaled, exaggerated and annoyed, grabbing the keys from your hands. You held up your hands in offended confusion. He nodded down at your legs. They were covered in crusted blood and five superficial lacerations each, one for each rotten claw.

“I can still drive?” You said, appalled by the audacity. Sure, you definitely needed him to drive when you had a concussion, but some scratches on your legs? You had worse injuries from using a cutting knife.

He didn’t even acknowledge your protest while he opened the door to the driver's seat, muttering, “They’re gonna think I abuse you.”

When he closed the car door, you saw your reflection in the window: the bruise around your collar like a necklace. You smothered the flame of rage in your heart as you stalked to the passenger’s side, slamming the door closed behind you.

───── (\ /) ─────

You handed Michael his soda you picked up on the way back to his place, which he snatched out of your hand and practically dropped on the counter.

“If you’re not going to leave Fazbear’s Fright alone, you need to follow one rule,” He crossed his arms as he leaned back against the counter, staring at you with stern voids. “It’s getting exhausting having to save your life every night.”

You held your hands up to surrender as you sat on his table, crossing your legs. “Alright, fair enough.”

His first rule was quick, “Don’t wander around the pizzeria.”

Your response was quicker, “No.”

“Do you want to die?” He snapped.

“No,” You uncrossed your legs and leaned forward. “But the rotted Bonnie-”

“ Spring Bonnie .”

“-Whatever! Has my only clue to my best friend’s disappearance.”

“Here’s your clue. Your friend is-” One piercing look from you, and Michael decidedly changed what he was going to say, “-not at Fazbear’s Fright.”

“Exactly, and that phone is the only clue I have for what happened to them.”

Michael groaned, “It’s like talking to a brick wall.”

“I can help you too, you know.” You said, “There’s a reason you haven’t left Fazbear’s Fright. Let me help.”

“You want to help me?” You nodded, “Stay in the office and work the maintenance panel.”

You could’ve hit him in the head, but you didn’t, gracefully . Instead, you hopped off the table and said, “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Don’t use all my soap this time,” He said, his void eyes following your leaving figure.

You just waved him off in response.

As steam fogged the mirror, you looked at your hands. They were covered in filth and grime, and one of them you wanted to burn away. You clenched them into fists as you looked up to your blurring reflection.

You pulled out your phone. You replayed the voice message aloud, and your heart felt like it was caved in. Could you have done anything if you were there? Probably not, but it did make you wish you could’ve been Michael for them. That you could’ve saved them with the two of you narrowly escaping the haunted attraction, horrified but joyously hugging each other in the morning sun. You imagined recounting sides of the story to each other and wondering who would ever believe you two. You imagined pointing out golden bunnies on Easter and giving them a knowing look. You imagined helping them move far far away from this town, to somewhere the rotted— Spring Bonnie couldn’t get either of you.

But that was a fantasy. And you couldn’t carry the weight of your memories being the last you may see them.

“ Don’t use all of my hot water! ”

You swore and turned off the voice message, swiping your tears away quickly, “ I’m not! ” You wished you could come up with something more witty or biting.

You couldn’t decipher whatever Michael grumbled from beyond the door, and that was probably for the best. You made sure to use as much soap as you wanted.

When you were done in the shower, you noticed there were no clothes on the floor like last time. Now that you thought about it, it looked like he cleaned up a bit since you were last here. Unfortunately, that left only your clothes you spent all night in.

You knocked on the bathroom door.

Micheal grunted in response.

“Can I borrow some clothes?” You asked.

You heard shuffling from the other side of the door. Then a knock came.

You opened the door. You had a towel, but Michael was decidedly looking at the floor. He held out the same hoodie you wore the day before and a pair of pants. You muttered a thanks, closing the door and slipping them on. When you came out, Michael was sitting on his bed, idly filling out what looked to be a logbook of some kind. He changed out of his security uniform into something more comfortable, which somehow looked even more out of place on his corpse-like body.

He glanced at you briefly, “You're wearing pants today.”

“Despite it all,” You said with a stretch. The clothes he gave you looked too big for him, and Michael had to be over six feet even with his poor posture. Wearing an oversized hoodie with no pants never harmed anyone.

You idly looked around Michael’s now clean room. You didn’t notice before, but he had a framed photo on his bedside table.

Michael put down his logbook, “Ready to talk about your ‘approach’ to Fazbear’s Fright?”

God, he could be condescending. You ignored him and picked up the framed photo. That seemed to still Michael, him shifting his position. It was a picture of three kids: two boys and a girl. They were all smiling except for the teenager, who looked annoyed to be there. It looked as though the picture had been cut, cropping out the parents from the photo.

“Cute,” You smiled, holding it up, pointing to the teenager. “Let me guess, this ones you?”

Michael stared daggers into you in response.

You opened up the bedside table, “Do you have more pictures?”

Michael slammed it shut, his hand over yours. Needless to say, you saw a pile of old polaroids in the drawer. Of course, he’d be the type to just keep loose polaroids around. “Don’t go looking through my things.”

“Oh, come on,” You said. “What could be more embarrassing than angsty-teen-Michael?”

He said your name as a warning.

“How about this,” You offered, slipping your hand from his and holding yours behind your back as you leaned towards him. You noticed how he subtly leaned away from you as you did so, but you weren’t offended by it. “I promise I will have a serious discussion about whether or not I wander Fazbear’s Fright after dark if you let me look through your photos?”

His brow, purple with decay, furrowed, “Whether you wander Fazbear’s Fright at all. And I don’t want to discuss it, I want you not to do it.”

“Would you even believe me if I did promise that?”

“No.”

“Okay, then I’ll promise to have a serious discussion about it.” You give him your most innocent smile, “Deal?”

He scowled and grumbled something under his breath, before letting go of the drawer. Your smile widened just slightly.

You picked up the polaroids tenderly, not wanting to ruin them, as you sat on the edge of Michael’s bed. Your smile widened at seeing photo after photo of a gloomy boy, moody teen, and excitable girl. In one, teen-Michael was wearing a Foxy mask. In another, the little girl was yanking on his arm with a toothy grin. Another, the girl and the boy were playing with toys. Another, Michael was barely an adult and wearing a new security uniform.

“These are ancient!” You said, and Michael stiffened in response. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Are you done yet?” His whole body was tense as you looked through the photos, despite how he tried to play it off as nonchalance.

“You were such a cute kid.” You said, and Michael prickled at that. You turned to him, leaning closer, “And a handsome young man, too. But I think I like the way you look now, better.”

Void eyes went wide. Michael opened his mouth to say something, his voice stuttering out a few broken syllables, before croaking, “ What? ”

“You’ve got a macabre beauty going on,” You said while you tilted your head, speaking more matter-of-factly than anything else. “A haunting kind of handsome for sure.”

You noticed for the first time Michael’s abrassed cheeks warmed a dark byzantium shade; something that was barely noticeable against the rot of his skin—making you wonder if you could’ve just missed that warmth before. It validated your statement that he was hauntingly handsome, and right after you realized that he was blushing.

Then, a scowl marred his blush, and he physically turned your head back to the photos with his spongy hands, “Finish up already.”

“Maybe you’d be a bit more handsome if you smiled more.” You teased, “Not a single smiling photo of you-”

You stopped at a picture of a much older Michael wearing a smile that looked stunning. In this picture, he was dripping with charisma; his usually bent posture straightened and eyes that sparkled with both invitation and promise. His dark hair was just starting to gray at his temples, and his body filled out his uniform well. Even from just the photo, you found yourself charmed by him.

Your grin widened with mischief, “Here we go! I was right, you look so much more charming when you smile.” You held up the picture to him.

Michael stilled, solemn and quiet. You tilted your head at his sudden change in demeanor, and then he said, “That’s not me. That’s my dad.”

Your eyes went wide. You looked back at the photo. Sure enough, there were very subtle differences between the two, but he looked just like him. You turned the photo around. Writing in old smudged ink read ‘William Afton, 1983’ .

Your hand came to your throat, fingers tenderly grazing the bruised flesh, and your eyes hardened. You shoved the photo deep into the back of the pile, “I changed my mind. You look much better when you don’t smile.”

Michael didn’t respond to that, and you were glad for that.

You flitted through the last few photos idly, having a bitter taste in your mouth from the last picture, before one caught your eye. A child was with the little girl from Michael’s photos. A child who looked familiar to you.

“This kid,” You pointed to the photo of the child with unkempt brown hair. Michael came to your side at your inquisitive tone, “I know them.”

“Charlie?” Michael asked, “How could you... Oh.”

“Yeah, I told you I wasn’t hallucinating!” You said, before looking back at the photo, “But this photo is ancient... was she one of the victims?”

Michael nodded, solemnly.

You raked your nails along your scalp with a heavy sigh, “Good lord.” You should’ve guessed the child you kept seeing was a ghost, but seeing her alive and healthy in the old photo made it more real . She was just a kid...

“Why can you see her?” Michael asked, more to himself than to you.

“Oh! She kept-” You stopped yourself for just a beat. If you told Michael she stabbed the toy phone into her chest, he’d never let you look for it. You had to come up with something else, quick. “-appearing as some sort of tall, skinny thing.”

Michael furrowed his brow. If he noticed your pause, he didn’t comment on it. He gingerly took the pile from your hands and swapped through a few photos before handing you one. He pointed at a familiar tall, odd looking puppet. “Is this what you saw?”

You nodded.

“I thought so.” Michael sighed, and the weight of it prompted you to take a closer look at him. He looked fatigued. Not just physically, but there was something heavy in those hollowed eyes of his. He carried a burden that he wouldn’t reveal to you. Regret, misery, and sorrow; all hidden behind a mask of apathy, one that cracked just enough for you to glimpse behind it. You couldn’t begin to imagine, but it looked too much for one person to bear, even for a zombie.

You placed your hand over his. When he turned to you, his mask cracked again and you could see another burden: loneliness. He looked at you with a tragic longing. You wondered when was the last time someone held his hand or joked with him or spent time with him at all. His state of undeath undoubtedly warded off most people. You didn’t want to pity him—he saved your life multiple times, he deserved more than your pity—but you couldn’t help what you felt.

Just as quickly as the mask slipped, it was sealed, and Michael pulled his hand away. He coughed, his gaze cast to the floor, before saying, “You done with the photos?”

You nodded, and he put them away. You stood up.

“Wait,” Michael closed the bedside table while looking at you, his brow furrowed. “Where are you going? You said-”

“I’m just gonna pick up some food,” You said, slipping on your shoes. They were swallowed by the large sweatpants Michael gave you. “I can’t be persuaded on an empty stomach. We can talk over din-... breakfast.”

He grumbled, leaning back against his bed frame, “I have food here.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m good on the popcorn and junk food stuffed in your pantry. What do you want? My treat.”

Michael exhaled, exaggerated and exasperated, “I don’t know... Just give me your number, I’ll text it to you.”

You handed him your phone. It was probably for the best that you had his number, anyway, with the whole ‘trying to avoid getting killed by his serial killer robot dad while fulfilling your own agendas’ thing. Still, you wished you had swapped numbers after you had picked up food.

Because you weren’t just picking up food.

───── (\ /) ─────

“Oh yeah,” The guy you talked to on the phone gave you a thumbs up, “You can totally take pictures!”

You had swung by the department store to pick up some normal clothes and a quality camera, which was now hanging around your neck. This trip was getting expensive... Good thing you didn’t have to pay for a hotel.

“Just, uh, just make sure not to get any pics of the ventilation... or the employees... or anything that might look flammable-”

You interrupted him, “I’m only interested in the decorations... and the animatronic.”

“For sure!” He grinned, “That’s perfect then. Uh, do you need someone to-”

You interrupted him again, “I remember my way around.” You waved at the day shift security guard, who waved back.

“Sweet, sweet...” The guy you talked to on the phone looked from the security guard, back to you, and then back to the security guard, “You know him?”

“My boyfriend works the night shift here.” He gave you a strange look, and you said, “That’s how I found out about this place, remember?”

“Right! Right, you said that before,” No you didn’t. “Well, go right ahead! And hey, mind if I check out the pictures after?”

Great. Now you’ll actually have to take pictures. “Of course.”

“Awesome! I’ll be around, just give me a holler when you’re done!”

You liked the attraction much much more when it was well lit and filled with people. Halls that terrified you were now bustling with conversation, and haunting decorations were now tacky in the light. You took snapshots of the empty costume pieces strewn about the attraction, and briefly you wondered if you had to make some poor minimum-wage worker clean up after all of your shattered toys.

It was strange knowing that there was a murderer hiding just out of sight, and yet people instinctively knew to avoid it. Before, you wanted people around you when you first saw Spring Bonnie. Now, it was better you were alone.

You held the camera in one hand as you approached the room Spring Bonnie was in. Before, the first thing you noticed was the smell. Now, the first thing you noticed was how still the air was. Nobody was here to fix this or that, so nobody—not even Spring Bonnie—was moving. The air was stale.

You clenched your fist, determined to quell any shaking. You had a theory the animatronic would have more difficulty moving during the day, or at least the threat of being seen by the cameras would keep you safe, but you still couldn’t suppress the visceral fear screaming at you to run. Even when you believed the thing was just an old oversized toy, you had that fear.

You were getting better at facing your fears, however.

There was Spring Bonnie, alone and illuminated by dull, droning lights. Your grip on your camera tightened. You looked back at the hall. There was no one.

“Hi, William.”

Silver eyes flicked to you. You almost flinched. You forced yourself to steel your gaze. He wasn’t bolting for you. That had to mean something.

You were bold enough to step closer. His eyes watched you. He always watched you, so carefully. He watched you as he hunted you down, as he choked the life out of you, as he made you choose between your hand or your life, as you demanded answers from him. And now, all he did was watch.

Your eyes quickly darted to the security camera. You couldn’t tell if the security guard was looking at this cam or not. Just as quickly, you retrained your eyes on Spring Bonnie. Taking your attention away from him for too long was basically asking him to murder you. “Heard a bit about you from Michael.”

A noise that sounded like mechanical gears turning came from the animatronic, but he made no movement other than that. You took courage in that.

“Thirty years in that suit must've been pretty painful,” You stepped closer. You were baiting him on purpose. “And alone? Did you lose your mind—what, ten years in?”

Even taunting him, he didn’t move. You prayed that was proof he couldn’t. You swallowed. You set down your camera. Each movement you took was incremental. Deliberate. The slightest of motions would set you off screaming and running for others.

You felt invigorated by this sudden power. You could move and he couldn’t. Your head felt light from the relief and arrogance. “Do you still feel the pain?” You dared to say.

His eyes clicked, focusing on you as all he could do was watch. All he could do to you was watch . You would make him watch as you eat his heart.

You were close enough for him to grab you. As close as you were in the vent. He didn’t move. “Did it hurt last night?”

He only watched.

You stepped closer. As close as you were when he choked you. He didn’t move. “I hope it did.”

He only watched.

You stepped closer. He didn’t move. “And if it didn’t.”

He only watched.

“ I hope this does. ”

You plunged your hand into his chest, and suddenly a claw was around your neck. Your breath and power were gone. Replaced with terror . You waited to be torn to shreds.

You waited...

Fingertips sharp as knives poked at your skin, but your neck wasn’t being squeezed. You looked up at Spring Bonnie, sweat dripping down your face. His silver eyes were so close, his permanent grin, and you could see the outline of a corpse deep inside. If he felt anything other than deep, encompassing hunger , you couldn’t tell. You swallowed, and your throat bobbed against his claws.

He didn’t move. His claws framed your bruise, showcasing it in a haunting display. His silver eyes, both mechanical and human, stared at it hungrily; his own handiwork mesmerizing to the robot and the killer. You didn’t know how he managed to get a claw around your neck. Maybe it was painful or provoking enough to let the killer take control if for only a moment. Maybe he could move all along and he was toying with you. You hoped it was the former.

You peeled yourself away from his grip, wincing as the claws sliced your skin, lightly. You touched the lacerations. Blood. When you were free, you ripped your hand out of his chest.

With your best friend’s phone in your hand.

A huge grin stretched across your face as you took steps away from the animatronic. You waved it tauntingly at Spring Bonnie, who’s silver eyes followed it devotedly, before snatching up your camera and running into the hallway.

You got it! You got it! Shattered, smelly, and all; you got your best friend’s phone back! And now, you were one step closer to finding them. Or... finding what happened to them.

Your own phone pinged. You pulled it up. It was Michael.

‘what is taking so long??’

Even Michael’s nagging couldn’t deflate your elation.

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 23 days

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Testing the Spirits

1 Beloved, do not believe every spirit [speaking through a self-proclaimed prophet]; instead test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets and teachers have gone out into the world. 2 By this you know and recognize the Spirit of God: every spirit that acknowledges and confesses [the fact] that Jesus Christ has [actually] come in the flesh [as a man] is from God [God is its source]; 3 and every spirit that does not confess Jesus [acknowledging that He has come in the flesh, but would deny any of the Son’s true nature] is not of God; this is the spirit of the antichrist, which you have heard is coming, and is now already in the world. 4 Little children (believers, dear ones), you are of God and you belong to Him and have [already] overcome them [the agents of the antichrist]; because He who is in you is greater than he (Satan) who is in the world [of sinful mankind]. 5 They [who teach twisted doctrine] are of the world and belong to it; therefore they speak from the [viewpoint of the] world [with its immoral freedom and baseless theories—demanding compliance with their opinions and ridiculing the values of the upright], and the [gullible one of the] world listens closely and pays attention to them. 6 We [who teach God’s word] are from God [energized by the Holy Spirit], and whoever knows God [through personal experience] listens to us [and has a deeper understanding of Him]. Whoever is not of God does not listen to us. By this we know [without any doubt] the spirit of truth [motivated by God] and the spirit of error [motivated by Satan].

God Is Love

7 Beloved, let us [unselfishly] love and seek the best for one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves [others] is born of God and knows God [through personal experience]. 8 The one who does not love has not become acquainted with God [does not and never did know Him], for God is love. [He is the originator of love, and it is an enduring attribute of His nature.] 9 By this the love of God was displayed in us, in that God has sent His [One and] only begotten Son [the One who is truly unique, the only One of His kind] into the world so that we might live through Him. 10 In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation [that is, the atoning sacrifice, and the satisfying offering] for our sins [fulfilling God’s requirement for justice against sin and placating His wrath]. 11 Beloved, if God so loved us [in this incredible way], we also ought to love one another. 12 No one has seen God at any time. But if we love one another [with unselfish concern], God abides in us, and His love [the love that is His essence abides in us and] is completed and perfected in us. 13 By this we know [with confident assurance] that we abide in Him and He in us, because He has given to us His [Holy] Spirit. 14 We [who were with Him in person] have seen and testify [as eye-witnesses] that the Father has sent the Son to be the Savior of the world.

15 Whoever confesses and acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God abides in him, and he in God. 16 We have come to know [by personal observation and experience], and have believed [with deep, consistent faith] the love which God has for us. God is love, and the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides continually in him. 17 In this [union and fellowship with Him], love is completed and perfected with us, so that we may have confidence in the day of judgment [with assurance and boldness to face Him]; because as He is, so are we in this world. 18 There is no fear in love [dread does not exist]. But perfect (complete, full-grown) love drives out fear, because fear involves [the expectation of divine] punishment, so the one who is afraid [of God’s judgment] is not perfected in love [has not grown into a sufficient understanding of God’s love]. 19 We love, because He first loved us. 20 If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates (works against) his [Christian] brother he is a liar; for the one who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen. 21 And this commandment we have from Him, that the one who loves God should also [unselfishly] love his brother and seek the best for him. — 1 John 4 | Amplified Bible (AMP) The Amplified Bible Copyright © 2015 by The Lockman Foundation. All rights reserved. Cross References: Genesis 22:2; Leviticus 19:18; 1 Kings 13:18; Jeremiah 14:14; Matthew 5:43; Matthew 9:34; Matthew 10:15; Matthew 24:5; John 1:14; John 1:18; John 3:16; John 3:31; John 6:51; John 6:56; John 6:69; John 8:23; John 8:32; John 8:47; John 9:3; John 15:27; John 12:31; John 12:34; John 13:35; Romans 8:9; Romans 8:15; Romans 8:31; Romans 10:9; 1 Corinthians 8:3; 1 Corinthians 12:3; 2 Thessalonians 2:3; 1 Timothy 6:16; 1 Peter 1:8; 1 John 1:1-2; 1 John 2:3; 1 John 2:5; 1 John 2:7; 1 John 3:1; 1 John 3:10-11; 2 John 1:5

#testing the spirits #believers #knowledge #God #love #Spirit of Truth #1 John 4 #The Epistle of First John #New Testament #AMP #Amplified Bible #The Lockman Foundation

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manicpixxiedreambitch · 3 months

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When I was eleven, my fifth grade teacher was ableist to me, not that I believe he was doing it intentionally. But he knew I had ADHD and got mad at me when I showed symptoms. He called me lazy and disobedient. He told me not to use my ADHD as an “excuse to be lazy”. He nicknamed me energizer bunny because I was showing symptoms like talking too much, going too fast, etc. One moment that stuck with me the worst though was when he pulled me into the hallway and towered over me (this part might be a little biased though, seeing as he was a grown adult and I was a small child) and he yelled at me, threatening to fail me.

For doodling on my papers. Said that even if all my work was done correctly on the assignment, if I doodled on my paper he would fail me.

And so I cried because what else was I supposed to do? I was eleven. And looking back, I know now that the doodling was a compulsive thing I did to help myself focus.

But when he saw the tears he just yelled “I don’t care if you cry!”

And I remember saying in a small voice “I know.”

I stopped doodling so much on my papers after that. Sure, I’ve drawn the occasional flower or eyeball on my papers, but not as wildly, not as freely as I used to do as a child. He engraved that fear of failing in me so bad that for years I was terrified of doodling on my papers.

Now I am in my senior year in high school. My last semester. And I just realized, that he can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t fail me. And because I’m starting a new chapter in my life, I want closure on something that hurt me for years. So last night, I sat down, and I respectfully wrote the teacher a four page letter. First I explained who I was. How I knew him. And then I apologized, and explained that this was probably not the kind of letter he was expecting. How I was writing the letter for closure. I let him know I do not hate him, and that I do not expect a response, nor do I want him to feel any guilt as a result. The letters main purpose was for him to know he hurt me.

I explained that I understand that a lot of my childhood actions had deserving consequences, however I did not deserve to be treated the way I was in his class. I told him how I was being bullied a lot, and had no friends at the time. I told him how I had ADHD, and how the way he treated me for showing symptoms was wrong. I said I felt like an alien, and I was treated like one. I brought up the nickname he gave me, how to this day I hate it. I wrote about that horrible day in the hallway, how it was from my perspective and how what he said stuck with me. How I did not realize teachers could be bullies until I entered his class. I stated that I did not deserve that. I was a child. How I am not being sensitive or a “snowflake”. How I am not saying he should have let me get away with doing anything I wanted, but he could’ve handled me as a student a little better. That my teacher was supposed to help me swim, not scold me for drowning. I was not a bad kid. I was a troubled kid. And yeah, I know you can’t help everyone, but it still hurt me.

And then I explained once again that I was sorry that this wasn’t the kind of letter he expected to receive from a former student. That perhaps to another student he might have been Mr. Falker, but not to me.

I am not lazy, I am not willfully disobedient, I am a human being. I have a human voice, and human emotions. And he did not treat me as such that day in the hallway, or when I was in his class. How the phrase “I don’t care if you cry” will forever sting at me any time I am upset.

I told him that I am in my senior year in high school. I am looking into a career in the field of art. And I write books, I am an author. And unfortunately, I can give no credit to that man for these accomplishments.

And after I finished writing the letter, I started doodling all over the margins. It was uncomfortable at first, it felt like I had artists block for doodling. But then I remembered all of the doodles I used to draw all those years ago, and I started doodling more. And as soon as most of the margins were covered, I know this sounds dramatic, but I swear I heard my fifth grade self laughing. She was saying “You’re gonna get in trouble! He’s gonna fail you!” And I was hit with the most sobering thought. “He’s not.”

#childhood #childhood trauma #fifth grade #doodlings #inner child

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skull001 · 1 month

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Something I find funny when people talk about Amy Rose's character, is how they akways follow a very predictable pattern:

"Amy back then was a stalker and useless"

"Her character is soo much better now"

"She now has a personality"

And so on.

These are just of the same phrases parroted by THOSE western fans who think that characters should be outstanding role models and not fictional people with virtues, but also flaws.

Frankly, I never understood WHY Amy in the 2000's was seen as "annoying". Either I'm very patient or those people are easily offended as they are spineless.

Or maybe it's the cultural clash between how western media sees girly girls like Amy VS how the Japanese see the same type of character.

In Japan, they aren't afraid of having feminine characters, let alone of allowing said feminine characters to do things that clash with western ideas of "that is not very lady like" or "girls shouldn't fight" and the such.

For the last years, something I never liked was seeing my favorite character be sanitized in her characterization for the sake of people who can't appreciate a good character since what they want is a safe, idealized, non-offensive take that saddly, results in Amy losing so much of what made her character fun. This approach is, if anything, the exact opposite of being "progressive", as it calls for Amy's feminine traits to be suppressed. Even Tyson Hesse has expressed in the Sonic Retro forums how writers are afraid of letting Amy express her affection for Sonic, something she used to do very openly (though understandibly childish in how she handled things, as a very young girl like her would) because of this silly fear that the western audience might be annoyed… the hell with that.

Only very recently has games like the one where the gang celebrates Amy's birthday and Sonic is "killed" or Sonic Dream Team have displayed the sassy, energic and even feisty sides of Amy's character… a character who deserves better characterizations that allows for her to be herself without writers acting like they're walking on thin ice due to a spoiled, entitled and over-sensitive western audience that hates fun.

"But we want Amy to mature…"

First, most people don't even understand what that word truly means.

Second, Amy doesn't need that. Why does she has to be the only one in the group who is not allowed to have some dumb silly fun with the boys? Especially when Amy is a mirror to a lot of things Sonic does, like loving adventures and excitement and who energy can even overwhelm him (see for example their specual victory animation in the Olympics or even as early as SA1). Like, where did people got this idea that Amy is a killjoy/partypooper who gets annoyed at the dumb boys for not being as smart as she is? That's not Amy… that's a very different character more akin to Sally, whose schtick was getting frustrated that she didn't had control.

Heck, even on the topic of Amy expressing her affection, I think the real problem is not her, but Sonic himself and the way he sometimes is written to act in ways that if not ruse, can come off as insensible towards an Amy who IMO doesn't deserve to be treated like a Meg Griffin.

That Amy is childish, bratty, sometimes a bit aggressive/hot tempered are things that balance her sweet, bubbly and compassionate side, making her feel more like a "real" person (at least within the confines of fiction). I love and adore Amy as a character with both admirable virtues as well as a flawed side that not only makes her a fun and amusing character (even when she does embarrassing things), but most importantly, it humanizes her. I don't lie when I say this: if Amy were a one-dimentional, highly idealized character who is only all-virtues with none of her flaws, I wouldn't like her at all, for that type of characters are not only impossible and unrelatable, but also come off as condescending and offer no entertainment value.

Amy is perfect by being imperfect. And both writers and audiences need to grow up and let my girl be all she can be, never again having her personality be suppressed for any reason.

#Amy Rose #Opinion

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gellertalbus · 1 year

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Hi! What’s your take on Gellert childhood and Durmstrang years?

❗ long post warning ❗

very VERY interesting question, thank you anon! Trying to guess Gellert's childhood is one of my fav hobbies. Let's get on with it!

Family: my headcanon is that he comes from a rich austrian pureblood family. Like his father probably worked for the austrian/german ministry or had a (boring) high position due to his family name. From his mother side, someone must've been a Seer in the past leading that part of the family to be slightly hung up on Divination while his father was more skeptical about it. They lived in Vienna but also had an old half-abandoned castle among the Alps, the future Nurmengard. Gellert absolutely loved to go there. He was an only child. Also my headcanon is that he played the violin. I read a lot of fics where Gellert plays some music instrument and it's mostly the piano, but i think the violin suits him more. I myself am a fan of violin music and the wide range of its sounds (gentle, enigmatic, elegant, epic, rough, romantic, sensual, tragic) is like Gellert's personality put into music. Also, Jamie playing the violin? That is a sight to behold!!

Looks: he has his mother's blonde curls and cherubic aura (she is a Bagshot from her mother's side, hence she's Bathilda's niece) while his chiseled features and overall facial structure come from his father.

Childhood: i imagine he was a very energic and impulsive kid, always moving, always doing something, learning, exploring, daring, spending a LOT of time on books but also outside. He often disobeyed his parents using his precocious powers whenever he wanted and not really caring about the consequences. This unsettled Herr and Frau Grindelwald, like i'm not saying they were scared of their son, but they knew Gellert was different, that he could do things other kids his age couldn't, that he was a prodigy (i just KNOW baby gellert was capable of intentional wandless magic and no one can change my mind). He received a strict education as it usually was in the 19th century, learned different languages such as english, french and russian and could dance a damn fine waltz.

The Sight: he had his first vision when he was about six/seven. They were just brief glimpses like flashes that left him very confused and shaken up. As the visions came more frequently and more unsettling he began to kinda isolate himself, being more silent and less lively. Like if you think about it, having the Sight is a very awful business, i'm not trying to justify his future actions whatsoever, just saying that waking up every day knowing that all kinds of horror and destruction might happen in the future SUCKS and that surely took a toll on his soul and personality.

Durmstrang: this is rather obvious but he was top of the class in pretty much everything, like from a certain point professors didn't know what else to teach him so he just sat at the end of the class bored as fuck. Students either feared him due to his Sight and the common knowledge he delved in Dark Magic more than the usual durmstrang policy allowed or they idolised him because of his charisma and idealism. He had friends but I'm not sure if he ever considered them as such, more like "people i happen to spend the time with". Some of them might've ended up as pawns in his grand scheme of things. Like this is one of the many factors that drew him to Albus. Being both brilliant, outstanding and always way ahead of the people around them, they surely must have felt constantly out of place, isolated, alone.

Possible trauma: Mads actually hinted at the possibility he went through some traumatic experience involving his family and the muggles hence his hate for them and i quite agree with him. Maybe his mother was killed? Both his parents? Again, give us some crumbs...

He saw Albus in his visions: this is a common headcanon and i couldn't not mention it. I think that yes he saw Albus in his visions way before he went to Godric's Hollow but did not necessarily act on it. Like he just kept Seeing him and felt a powerful connection to those blue eyes framed by gorgeous auburn hair ❤

Also, and i think we can all agree on this, Gellert is definitely a cat person right?

Thanks for your question, anon, and apologies for the rant! 🖤

#anon #gellert grindelwald #headcanon #grindelwald headcanon #grindeldore #albus dumbledore

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cursed-elo-images · 9 months

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Chapter 1. Boredom

~Prologue~

It was a beautiful day at ELO’s house. Jeff and Kelly were playing Mario Kart Wii in the living room, Bev was in the kitchen practicing his drumming skills, and Richard was in his room watching television.

Bev was feeling so confident regarding his specific session, which was over Mr. Blue Sky, that he accidentally started playing it too loud.

“Ey Bev, could you cut it out? I’m trying to blue shell Kelly!” Jeff griped as he was smashing the Wii controller buttons so much they left imprints in his thumbs.

“What, Jeffrey? I can’t hear you, over this awesome beat I just invented!” Bev replied, oblivious to the curly long haired man.

“I SAID: COULD YOU CUT IT OUT??? I’M OVER HERE TRYING TO MAKE KELLY’S KART BLOW UP AND YOU’RE IN THERE MAKING NOISE M8!” Jeff yelled, more irate.

Hearing this, Bev stopped.

Bev sighed and had a dejected look on his face.

“And… we’ve played this song millions of times! You didn’t invent it just now!” Jeff added.

“I didn’t mean-“

“Ah, whatever,” Jeff blurted, not letting the drummer have a chance to speak. He was already nervous playing the game, and the sound of the drums made him even more nervous.

Kelly was nervous too: for he didn’t know he was about to be blue-shelled by the frontman…

Shaking with the controller in his hand, Kelly’s heart rate increased as he tried to escape Jeff, who was playing as Mario.

“Oh no… please no… just no… JEEEEFFFFFF” Kelly screamed as he was hit by a blue shell.

“Haha! Got you now!” Jeff hollered.

“Nooo Luigi!” Kelly cried, disappointed over losing the round.

“Wanna play another round?” Jeff asked, energized from the last round. Kelly’s mouth began to curl into a smile, and he stopped sloping and sat up straight.

“Of course, mate… of course…”

~Chapter 1: Boredom~

“Oh no… ohhh no….” Jeff muttered as his breathing increased, trying to escape the red shell that Kelly threw at him. Hopping over the mushrooms in Mushroom Gorge, the shell hadn’t hit him yet.

“Rah, I hate this track!” Jeff growled, scared for his life.

Perfect, Kelly thought, happy to give Jeff a taste of his own medicine.

This whole time Bev moved from his drum set to lay on the couch in the living room, behind the other two men, who were sitting on the floor in front of the television. He just stared at them quietly, as he was dreadfully bored.

After going through the first lap successfully, Jeff attempted to bounce on the first set of mushrooms but unfortunately ran into a banana on a green mushroom. Kelly started chuckling.

“AAAARGH” Jeff snarled, indignantly.

And then… with his kart stopping, the red shell finally succeeded in hitting him.

“GRAH!!! KELLY!” Jeff yelped, even more startled. Kelly started laughing a bit harder.

Jeff’s kart began to topple over. Jeff, realizing this, smashed the buttons on the controller so hard his fingertips started stinging, but he didn’t care.

“No, NO!!! I’M FALLING!!! BEV HELP ME!!! BEV TAKE OVER MY SPOT NOW!!!” Jeff screamed, his voice getting higher pitched, a little disoriented from his fear of losing this round. Kelly broke out and laughed uncontrollably.

“No,” Bev muttered, still hurt from earlier. His eyes burnt into the television like daggers. He felt offended that he couldn’t play his drums as he was “too loud” while Jeff was over there screaming even louder at the top of his lungs. Kelly tried to control himself and ceased his laughter.

“Hey, that’s cheating mate! You can’t do that! We’ve agreed to play together! You can’t just swap yourself with Bev like that mate!” Kelly retorted, confused and shocked with Jeff’s sudden attitude change towards Bev.

Jeff didn’t say anything, for he didn’t know how to respond. Not to mention he was still fazed after his kart fell. Being picked up by Lakitu and in second place, Jeff continued the lap by trying to one up Kelly, trying to slow his breathing to calm himself back down.

“And besides, I don’t think he even wants to, considering how you’ve been treating him these past fifteen minutes. You reprimanded him inappropriately, Jeff,” Kelly added, feeling critical of the frontman. Jeff did feel a slight pang of guilt in his heart. Maybe he did treat Bev badly.

Jeff just sighed, scratching his curly auburn beard and went through the second lap and moved onto the third.

Bev sat in silence the whole time, until he quietly started singing the lyrics to Twilight in his deep baritone voice.

“With your head held high and your scarlet lies

You came down to me from the open skiiiies

It’s either real or it’s a dream there’s nothing that is in between

Twiiiii-liiiiiiii-hiiiiiiiight

I only meant toooo stay a while

Twiiiii-liiiiiiii-hiiiiiiiight

I gave you time, to steal my mind, awaaaaaay from meeee-heeeee” the lyrics came softly from the resounding, rich British-accented voice. Bev lowered his head, his wavy brunette bangs covering his eyes as he just chilled there.

Jeff and Kelly raced each other, silently, after Kelly called Jeff out for being rude. Jeff had calmed down since he was saddened by what he had done. Once they heard Bev singing quietly they just turned to look at each other. Jeff’s mouth was slightly open, and his eyebrows scrunched in a way that signaled that he was weirded out. Kelly just shrugged and gave him a look that nonverbally said “Well, it’s your fault”.

Finally, the round ended. Kelly passed through the finish line first.

“Haha! Yeah, I won!” He declared cheerfully.

“Well, I guess you deserve it after I blue-shelled you the last time, haha,” Jeff replied, mildly disappointed but also happy that his friend won. Honestly, Jeff didn’t even care if he lost. All that was in his mind was that he regretted yelling at the drummer.

Kelly stood up, stretched and sighed.

“That was really good, yeh?” he asked. Jeff got up as well and fluttered his hands as they were cramping from holding and moving the controller for a long time.

“Ah, yeah! Whew! It was good,” Jeff replied. He winced as the nerves in his fingertips started burning, and he was also sweating, as was Kelly.

“Ahhh… I’m not going to play for a week. I’m hurting so much,” he complained.

“Well, you shouldn’t have been smashing those buttons like that, Jeff,” Kelly responded, giggling.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jeff replied, rolling his eyes. He went up and decided to make some tea. When he walked into the kitchen, he glanced at Bev who was still sitting there all idle and sad. He felt a pang of pity when he saw the guy.

“Hm, figures” he muttered under his breath and gathered some blue porcelain teacups.

Meanwhile, the string trio was in Hugh’s room, bored as well.

“Huuuuuugh, I don’t know what to doooooo! I’m so bored!” Melvyn qualmed dramatically. Hugh let out a huge sigh.

“Well, what even is there to do? Nothing much, it’s a lazy day with nothing happening,” Hugh retorted, slightly annoyed at his fellow cellist friend.

“Perhaps we could maybe hang out with Richard, no?” Melvyn suggested, pouting. Hugh rolled his eyes.

“Richard? What is there to do in his room? Doesn’t he lock it anyway?” Hugh asked.

“Ummm… I don’t know? We could talk to him or watch television with him? I mean, he’s nice and all,” the older cellist replied. Hugh glared at him.

“No. I’m not watching television, Mel! I need… Er, we, the three of us, need something exciting! We need stimulation—we need pep and go! And watching soap operas or football games just doesn’t do that! Well, for me at least,” Hugh replied, standing up and gesturing his arms melodramatically. Melvyn just sat there and complained incoherently while Hugh just shook his head. Mik remained silent.

“Maybe we could join Jeff and Kelly? They sounded like they had a lot of fun earlier… now, I’m not sure if they’re still playing Mario Kart… but… it’s worth a try,” Hugh wondered, his eyebrows scrunched as he stared down at the floor.

Melvyn inhaled.

“But Hugh! They were super loud earlier! I was literally nervous the entire time and hid under your bed!” Melvyn blurted, unsatisfied.

“As if it weren’t already obvious. Let me guess, you also don’t want to talk to Bev either?” Hugh asked, crossed.

“N-no… did you hear those drums? I thought my ears were going to explode! I wanted to throw up,” Melvyn replied, throwing his head back and laying down. Hugh’s eyes widened.

“O…kay… then, I’m sorry I even suggested such a thing!” he said, bewildered and surprised, feeling a little sorry for him.

“Perhaps we could go outside?” Mik asked in a still, small voice. The other two looked at him.

“You mean like, go for a walk?” Hugh asked, curious.

“Yeah, just the three of us. Who knows what we’ll find!” the modest violinist replied.

“Hey there, why— that’s an absolutely perfect idea!” Hugh declared, smiling, and he got up. The other two got up as well.

“Oh, really! Yay! I can’t wait!” Melvyn cried delightfully, bouncing on his feet.

#hugh mcdowell #melvyn gale #electric light orchestra #mik kaminski #crackfic #Pilot Hugh & Co.#Chapter 1. Boredom

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