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imagine-darksiders · 9 months

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On the Ropes - chapter 23.

CYNOSURE.

Summary: You're in trouble. More trouble than you seem to realise...

Montgomery Gator X F!Reader

Slight Freddy X F!Reader

Tags: Jealousy, Protectiveness, Hurt/comfort, Angst, Violence, Anger, Past abuse, Friends to lovers, dialogue.

Please note, I haven't seen anything to do with the Ruin DLC. I'm writing this with just the base game in mind.

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If it were possible for a human to retreat inside their own shadow, you'd happily let go of your crutches and sink down into the safety of the darkness stretched across the daycare floor behind you, hiding within yourself where nobody – not Andy, nor Freddy or Monty or Eclipse – would be able to see you.

You want to be small.

You want to be still.

So small and so still that you could slip out of view entirely to conceal yourself amongst the dust and atoms that are naked to the human eye.

You'd only ask for a few hours. A few hours to be unimportant and unnoticeable.

Is that such an outlandish ask?

If it meant you don't have to be looked upon by a man with anger contorting his expression into something cold and ugly, you'd disappear in a heartbeat.

You've wished for similar things before, in entirely dissimilar situations.

“Andy,” you croak, trying not to dwell on how timid and yielding your voice has fallen, “I-I'm sorry, okay? I know I should've gone straight home-”

“So why didn't you?” The speed at which he cuts off your sentence is jarring enough to send you shrinking behind your shoulders and dropping your eyes to a spot on the mechanic's shirt that shifts across his heaving chest, slack then taut then slack with each breath.

He's asked a valid question, you remind yourself, swallowing thickly. And really, what did you expect? He has every right to be angry with you. You were discharged from the hospital and expected to go straight home to rest your broken ankle, but instead, you've returned to the very building where you sustained your injury in the first place not twelve hours later.

Sparing a second to go over the motions in your mind's eye, you start to get a picture of where you might have made a couple of minor errors in judgement.

Gulping past a lump of nerves in your throat, you raise your eyes to the mechanic's again and offer him your excuse, though you can only imagine how feeble it must sound in his discerning ears. “I... just wanted to make sure they... I needed to see that everyone was okay. Monty was half-destroyed, Andy, I couldn't just sit at home and not-”

Abruptly, the mechanic's jaws split around a sharp bark of laughter that causes Eclipse's fingers to cinch several pascals tighter around your bicep.

Even Freddy's ears flinch back at the piercing sound.

“Pah! You needed to know they were okay?” Andy parrots, giving his head a shake and planting his hands squarely on his hips. Seconds later, his face twists up to aim a scowl at you, all traces of false amusement gone. “And why in the Hell didn't you just call me!?” he points out, jabbing a forefinger against his chest, “You have my number! You could've just asked me! I'd've checked on 'em for you so you could go home!” You don't miss how his voice cracks on the final word. “What the Hell were you thinkin', kid?”

And you wish you had an answer for him.

You could counter his query with one of your own. Like whether or not he truly thinks you wouldn't have just gone to plex anyway, especially after he told you what had happened to the attendants.

Something solid bumps gently against your good ankle, and a hurried glance down reveals that Monty's segmented tail has swept close behind you, curling up around your legs as the gator shifts on his hydraulics and leans closer into your side.

It's a subtle shift, or as subtle as a three tonne animatronic can be. Privately, you hope he doesn't say anything in your defence. You can't imagine that Monty speaking his mind will lead to a peaceable outcome between he and the mechanic right now.

But if the ornery gator was on the cusp of formulating a response on your behalf, he never gets to spit it from his voice-box.

Forcing a rough exhale through his teeth, Andy raises a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed firmly shut. “Look, kid, I...” He trails off to sigh again, turning on his heel with a fist clenched at his side. You try not to stare at his bone-white knuckles, all too aware that Freddy's optics are adhered to your face.

“You got any idea how scared I was when I went to the Hospital this mornin' and you weren't there?”

Pressing your lips together, you numbly shake your head, though you're not sure he's even looking for a response.

Without turning to face you, he finally lets out a tired, old exhale, tipping his head back to glare up at a nondescript point on the ceiling. ”... It's been a hell of a long day.”

You have to wonder if he managed to get any sleep last night with how thickly his voice dips.

Although you're conscious you've used it to death, you nonetheless can't refrain from falling back on your typical, knee-jerk response. “I'm sorry, Andy...” you apologise.

“I know you're sorry,” he grunts waspishly without missing a beat as he begins to march towards the daycare entrance, “Now you'd better get your sorry ass to the car park, stat. M'callin' you a cab...”

“But-”

The mechanic's boots squeak on the rubber mats, silencing you when he whirls about to jab a finger at you, ignoring Monty's guttural hum of warning.

“But nothin'!” he snaps, which in turn has you snapping your mouth shut, “I ain't in the mood today, okay? Now get!”

His command echoes out through the cavernous room, disappearing into the rafters hanging high over the daycare.

As Andy stands there, seething, you keep your feet planted firmly on the ground. With Monty's plates quivering on your right, the attendant's fingers squeezing wrinkles into the sleeve of your shirt, and Freddy hovering between you, sending apprehensive glances between you and the mechanic, you take a shaky breath to steel your nerves before you finally manage to rush out, “But what about Eclipse?”

It's funny. Before today, you'd never actually seen a vein bulge in real life.

Andy's temple seems to throb for a moment as he stares at you, jaw creaking open in disbelief.

In another second, his brows are wrenched to the centre of his forehead and he makes a sound of incredulity at the back of his throat, almost a laugh, but a dangerous one.

“Eclipse?” he scoffs, “Who the Hell is-?”

Somewhere overhead, a mechanical 'thunk' rolls across the ceiling.

At once, Andy's question falls silent and he quirks a brow, tilting his neck back to squint at the overhead lights.

Following his gaze, you nearly jump out of your skin when the daycare is suddenly and inexplicably plunged into a jarring darkness.

Barely a fraction of a second passes before Eclipse's hand on your arm goes ramrod stiff, and in doing so, turns their grip on you damn near tight – tight enough that it hurts, which instantly sets alarm bells ringing in your head like claxons.

Neither Sunnydrop nor Moondrop, in all your history of service as a cleaning lady here, have ever once caused you even a sliver of harm, not by accident or otherwise.

Putting aside the fact that their programming is irrefutably air-tight given their proximity to children, Sun and Moon have informed you repeatedly that they'd rather tear out their own circuitry before they'd ever harm a friend.

So to have their grasp on your forearm turn borderline painful isn't just surprising, it's downright unfathomable.

In another blink of an eye, the darkness bearing down on you evaporates as the lights overhead promptly buzz back to life, flicker once, then finally stabilize in the familiar, steady hum, glowing brightly down onto the daycare.

But still, Eclipse's grasp doesn't shift.

Oblivious to your sudden wince of discomfort, Monty raises his snout to peer at the ceiling, optics narrowed uncertainly. “A power surge?” he hums.

“You gotta be shittin' me,” Andy growls, ignoring the little burst of static that leaves Freddy's voice-box at his vulgarity, “First the animatronics go haywire, now the lights're on the blink. What's next?”

None of them seem to have noticed the eerily motionless giant looming at your side, nor the look of trepidation you're sending the large, spindly fingers encasing your arm.

“Uh, Eclipse?” you utter tentatively, giving your limb an experimental tug. You don't like the way they're staring at Andy, their once luminous optics as dark as tar pits and their head locked at a rigid, right angle, sun rays extended to their maximum length.

Silicone fingers tighten a fraction when you try to reclaim your limb, prompting a soft hiss to seep in through your teeth.

You may as well have let out a bloodcurdling scream with how violently Monty tears his optics off the lights and whips his head in your direction, fast enough that you can hear his motors whirring noisily to try and keep up with the movement.

Oh no...

“Wait, Monty –” you start, but you already know by the wrinkling of his snout and the dilation of his aperture pupils that he's seen the source of your trouble.

Crimson optics lock onto the vice-like hand secured around your arm.

There's a single second where you see the gator's processor scan over the pressure that Eclipse is exerting before, in a snap, the daycare explodes with the sound of a furious, thundering bellow.

“HEY! GET OFF'A HER!”

Before you can even flinch, one of Monty's purple servos stretches across your body to latch around Eclipse's wrist.

“Monty!” you shout, alarmed, “It's okay, stop!”

At the sound of your voice, the attendant's faceplate tilts down, apparently unfazed by the gator's grip, and you can't do a thing to combat the visceral shudder that crawls up the back of your neck when your eyes meet their dark, unlit optics.

There isn't a trace of the irradiant orange light that had once glowed behind their casing, light that had given an impression of real life beneath the plastic shell.

Now, they're black as pitch, save for two, nearly imperceptible pinpricks of... of purple light...

At the base of your neck, tiny hairs shoot upright, prickling at the sense of a danger you don't quite yet comprehend.

The overheads must be shining through the back of their faceplate for a moment, there and gone in a flash, because as soon as you blink, the violet pupils wink out, yet Eclipse's grasp on you remains stubbornly in place.

“Hey!” Andy hollers from somewhere behind you, “What's goin' on back there!? Thought I told you to get to the car park!”

“I'm trying!” you retort, placing a hand on Eclipse's and attempting to gently coax their fingers from your arm. At the same time, several tonnes of gator grabs the collar of your shirt and gives it a rough pull, which sadly only results in nearly strangling you when Eclipse's grip doesn't budge an inch.

“I said let 'er go!” Monty snarls, giving your shirt another yank, throttling you in the process.

Rather than continue to play the role of 'rope' in this impromptu game of tug-of-war between two powerful animatronics, you hurriedly blunder out, “Monty! Please! Let go, you're making it worse!”

“I'm tryn'a help!” he insists.

Looming over you like a dark sun, Eclipse twists their faceplate in a full rotation, their beaming grin far more menacing than you recall.

At your back, Andy's scowl disappears in a blink, his mouth falling open in abject horror.

Quick as a flash, he snatches his stun baton from his belt and skirts around Freddy, barking, “Get out of the way, gator!”

Throwing a glance back over your shoulder, your eyes zero in on the prod in his white-knuckle grip and you let out a gasp, whipping your head back to Eclipse and pleading, “Guys! What's wrong? Please, talk to me! I-it's okay!”

They lean forwards, twisting their hand into your shirt until your knees buckle and tears spring to your eyes.

Something's wrong.

Deeply wrong.

You're trapped.

It seems delayed, but at long last, a creeping terror begins to sink its gnawing teeth into your stomach.

Sucking down a wobbly breath, you fill your lungs and let everything go again in a desperate shout, hurling out the words you never once assumed you'd have to use in their presence. “Sun! Moon! Stop, you're hurting me!”

And as if it's a shut down switch, as if that's what gets through whatever has momentarily assumed control of their processor - more than your struggling, more than Monty's crushing hand on their wrist - Eclipse turns their head a click to the left, and their optics flicker, orange, then black, then back to orange again.

“F..friend?” they rasp, their voice-box laden with static.

Monty freezes at your side, the plates on his neck flared like a spitting cobra as Eclipse shifts their gaze down to the hand still wrapped around your arm.

Then, in a sudden rush of movement, the attendant all but rips their appendage from you and staggers backwards, all four of their limbs springing up to catch their head, and in doing so, you're sent toppling backwards on unsteady legs, clutching at your aching arm.

“Gotcha!” Monty grunts triumphantly as he releases Eclipse in favour of planting his hands on your waist and lifting you into the air in one, swift movement, spinning his torso around to place you gently on the floor behind his tail before he whirls back to face the attendant, chest puffed out and teeth bared, giving him the look of a bristling wall of metal and plastic.

You have to lean around his splayed arms to see Eclipse is still clutching at their faceplate, babbling incoherently until they give an abrupt, violent jolt, their knees collapsing out from underneath them.

“Eclipse!” you cry, hobbling around the gator, who only throws an arm out to catch you in the stomach, halting you in your step.

Andy appears in your peripheral, his hand still clamped around the prod.

“What in the goddamn shit is goin' on with this thing!?” he hollers.

You nearly gasp when two gentle paws land on your shoulders and coax you backwards, dragging your crutches along the ground.

“Miss Y/n,” Freddy's voice thrums over your head, “Please, don't get too close!”

Eclipse's optics flicker to life once again, only to dim a second later as that eerie, violet light sparks into existence and swivels in your direction.

There you stand, half hidden behind Montgomery Gator and engulfed in Freddy's shadow, one hand gingerly cradling your elbow, staring back at the attendant with downturned lips and upturned brows.

Drained of fight, beset upon by pain and confusion, you forget to hide your expression.

You forget that they know the look of fear all too well.

“F-Friend!” they sputter, peeling one, quivering hand away from their face and stretching it out towards you, their fingers seeking a connection with you, even metres away, “Friend? I-i-i t ' s m – m e...”

Before you can utter even a whimper in response, the animatronic suddenly throws their mechanical neck back and lets out a gut-churning shriek, three of their four hands scrabbling erratically at their faceplate.

“NNNGH!!!! GET OUT!” they howl like a wounded animal.

It's a horrifying thing to watch. And yet you can't tear your eyes off them as they rock forwards, peering through rigid fingers that cover the upper half of their face.

It's rather telling that even Monty steps back when the attendant once again buzzes and jerks as if their system is roiling with far too much electricity, a live-wire dropped in a puddle of water.

“GET! OUT!”

Their shout extends, growing and swelling in volume to an awful crescendo, until suddenly, at the apex of their cry when you're sure your eardrums might burst, the sound cuts out, as if their voice box has been inexplicably disconnected by unseen hands.

And for a long, heart-wrenching moment, they go entirely, frighteningly still....

Stricken, you let your jaw hang open, gaping at Eclipse's stiff frame as it starts to teeter over like an enormous obelisk falling slowly to the earth.

With an awful cacophony of rattling parts and scraping metal, they come crashing to the ground, none of it muffled against the soft-play mats underneath them. To your horror, a trail of smoke drifts up from the back of their head, beneath the little, black box where their CPU is housed.

Several long and tedious moments seem to drag by at an excruciating pace before finally, finally, you release the breath you've been holding for the last twenty seconds.

It escapes you in a rush, letting you know just how long you'd kept it trapped inside your lungs.

That single breath has a ripple effect, spreading outwards and touching Freddy first.

“Oh dear...” the bear mutters, his hold on your elbows going slack.

At once, you lurch forwards on your crutches before he can re-secure his grip.

“Guys!” you belt out, limping past a startled Monty, only to find yourself drawn up short by a heavy hand falling on your shoulder.

“Hold up, lady” the gator barks, easily keeping you in place even as you try to duck out of his grasp.

“God damn, shit,” Andy rasps, carelessly hurling his baton back onto his belt, “What is goin' on with these machines!?”

The mechanic once again bulldozes over Freddy's sputtered comment about refraining from vulgarity in favour of approaching the downed animatronic, moving past you and the gator to nudge the toe of his rubber boot underneath Eclipse's elbow, giving it a half-hearted kick.

“A-are they-?” you begin, craning your neck to see over Andy's shoulder.

“Offline,” he responds brusquely as he rakes a hand down his face, tugging at the wrinkles that lay under his eyes, “But looks like they fried their CPU.”

“WHAT!?” you blurt.

You might have gone on to spiral into a frantic mess of sentences, but at that moment, you're swiftly yet carefully spun around by a pair of large, tentative servos until you find yourself gaping listlessly up into the maw of Montgomery Gator.

Wasting no time, the enormous bot presses himself as far into your personal space as he can physically get without bowling you over and darts his gaze up and down your body, his optics working on overtime to scan you from head to toe.

“You okay?!” he rushes out urgently.

“What?” Mind whirling, you shoot a glance down at the lifeless attendant on the floor before returning your wide-eyed stare to Monty. “Wh-... I – yes? Yeah, I'm fine.”

A rapid shake of his head indicates his disagreement. “But they hurt you!”

“They didn't do it on purpose. It was an acciden-” you start to say, only to find yourself cut off.

“Stop sayin' stuff was an accident!” the gator blurts, his stare locking onto the spot on your arm where Eclipse had left his mark. Lips of silicone peel back to expose the full length of his teeth. “Sure didn't look like an accident to me...”

“Need I remind you that this-” you jerk your chin down towards the cast encumbering your injured leg. “-was an accident as well.”

“That's-!” The gator's voice-box sputters with fuzz for a moment as he tries to push his processor towards the words he's looking for, eventually settling on, “That's totally different!”

“Is it?” Stuffing your teeth into your lip, you fall quiet for a moment, gathering your brows into a hard line and drawing in a deep, slow inhale through your nostrils, partially to soothe your agitation, and partially because your ankle gives a sudden, searing throb, as if it had at last grown tired of you ignoring its frailty. “If I thought for one minute that they'd ever do something to hurt me, I might agree with you,” you concede, casting a troubled glance down at the eerily still attendant, your knuckles white on the crutch handles, “But this... I don't know... It's like they didn't even realise they were doing it... Something isn't right.”

“I'm sure it's nothing our fine mechanics can't fix,” Freddy pipes up.

“Agreed,” Andy jumps in, “Whatever happened, we'll deal with it down in Parts. New tech guy's comin' in to go over the security systems anyway.”

“Okay...” You nod your head, flexing your fingers around the crutches and sifting through your racing thoughts to try and formulate a plan of action, one that'll get Sun and Moon the help they clearly need. You're only glad that this has happened to you, and not one of the kids. “Okay. Okay, right. I'll help you get them down to Parts and Services.”

You should have known you wouldn't get away with that.

Sharp as a whip-crack, Andy cuts you off, shooting you a steely glare. “Not on your life, you ain't. You're going straight out to the car park, I'm gonna call you a cab. And you're gonna go home.”

You open your mouth to offer a feeble argument only to fall silent when Monty's hand finds your forearm and he leans down to place his mouth near your ear, grunting, “Maybe it's for the best, y'know? Can't do much for 'em if you're on the verge of collapse yourself.”

“I'm not on the verge of-... ugh.” You puff out your cheeks, teetering sideways before you manage to catch yourself on a crutch and shove yourself upright again. Scowling down at your cast, you mutter, “Not exactly making a good case for myself, am I?”

Rumbling a note of acknowledgement, Monty gives the back of your shoulder a guiding nudge with his snout. “C'mon. I'll help you get to the entrance.”

“God dammit, NO! NO! Monty, you're gonna carry the attendant down to Parts,” Andy exclaims, jabbing a finger at the gator and puffing like a runaway train as he throws an arm out at the animatronic bear hovering to your left, “Freddy'll take her to the entrance.”

Dutifully, the bear straightens up on his struts and returns his hat to its rightful place between his ears. “It would be my pleasure,” he says cordially, reaching out a paw for you to take and lifting his muzzle to flash you a charming smile. “May I?”

Letting out a disgruntled sigh, you take a single step towards the cordial bear, only for a clawed fist to clap shut around the collar of your shirt and keep you in place.

A growl reverberates through the air behind you and you're rudely tugged back a fumbling step, allowing Monty to slink around in front of you, releasing your shirt as he petulantly snaps, “Nuh uh, you may not!”

“Montgomery,” Freddy scolds, flicking his ears back on their hinges.

Snapping his optics over to Andy, the gator blunders on as if his co-star had never spoken. “Why him? Huh? How come I can't take 'er?”

Holding you breath, you cast a nervous glance around Monty's bridling shoulder to peer at the mechanic, who looks to be about three seconds away from pulling out his electric prod and reenacting the harrowing scene from last night all over again.

Peeling his lips apart, you catch a glint of his gritted teeth as he slowly drawls out, “Because I trust Freddy a damn sight more than I trust you to get her there in one piece.”

At that, you feel your eyebrows twitch inwards of their own accord.

It's only small, but a flicker of indignation spurs you to stick out your chin and fix Andy with a stern look, missing the way Monty's immense frame seems to grow inexplicably smaller at your side as he wilts.

“Andy, come on,” you say, “That's not fair...”

One of the old man's eyelids gives a volatile twitch, a clear indication that his patience isn't just wearing thin, it's damn-near threadbare. Yet still, you stand your ground, etching a frown onto your face that grows deeper and deeper as the silence stretches on.

Andy's lips thin, and despite his agitated temper, he spares the gator a more thorough once-over.

The mechanic has been around for a while, long enough that he was there when the switch was flipped and Montgomery Gator's processor first whirred to life. Ever since, Andy has amassed countless reports of Monty proving himself to be a nuisance, a hinderance and a downright danger to the company, the staff, the guests... To you.

The damnable bot broke your ankle, for Christ's sake...

And yet... God... And yet you've gone and done it. You've gone and buried a tiny seed of guilt right in the centre of Andy's chest. It isn't much, but it's enough...

He can't deny that you and that poor kid may very well have died yesterday if not for Monty coming to your defence.

Andy might not have believed it if he hadn't seen the feedback with his own two eyes.

The gator had protected you.

Glancing down, he doesn't fail to note the tail curled up around the back of your legs, nor the hulking animatronic casting you in his shadow - ironic, considering the bot has been doing nothing but shadow you for the past few days. People are noticing the changes...

Andy Flowers knows what loyalty looks like... He just... never thought he'd see it in a bot like Monty.

“Hhh... M'gettin' too old for this job,” he sighs, lifting a thumb and forefinger to massage gingerly at his forehead.

It's a tough pill to swallow, admitting that you have a point - that Andy isn't, in fact, being fair. He may remember, in gruesome detail, the bite, the blood, Mick's harrowing screams, but - and call him biased - he can't ignore that he trusts your judgment. Nor can he disregard the tiny kernel of gratitude he'd felt when he watched, through Monty's optics, how the bot guarded you from that 'intruder' with startling ferocity. The fact that you're the one willing to vouch for the bot means something to Andy.

So. Is it fair of him to suspect that Monty wouldn't get you to the front entrance without incident?

Andy's eyes squint sharply and he peers at you for a long moment, feeling the weight of three stares boring back into him, apprehensively awaiting his next words.

After a little while longer spent in silence, you nod your head and gently prompt, “It's okay, Andy. Monty can get me there safely. I trust him.”

You and Freddy are so busy watching the mechanic, neither of you notice Montgomery twisting his head to regard you with wide, glimmering optics, plastic brows pinched together and tilted towards the ceiling. And then the man's gaze is drawn to movement behind the gator, movement that he at first attributes to the daycare attendant stirring back to life. So it comes as a surprise when all he sees is the gator's segmented tail swinging back and forth silently at the back of your legs.

'Huh,' he muses to himself, 'That's a new one.'

Aloud, he has to summon every ounce of his willpower to do what he's about to do...

Concede.

“Goddammit, fine,” he spits, slumping his shoulders in defeat and breaking the spell of tension he'd cast over the daycare.

At once, Monty perks up and you start to smile, opening your mouth to give a word of thanks, but before you can, the mechanic jerks his chin at Freddy and adds, “Fred, go with 'em. Make sure there aren't any more detours.”

Almost as quickly as it had lit up, your face promptly falls slack. “Seriously?”

“We don't need an escort,” Monty chips in, throwing a haughty side-eye at Freddy, who only appears all-too happy to fulfil the request.

“Freddy goes with you, and that's final,” Andy retorts, squinting at you sharply, “You're in enough trouble as it is.”

It... shouldn't bother him as much as it does how quickly you back down from him, lowering your eyes and huffing out a quiet, “Fine. Fine.”

As you start to shuffle past him, you can't help but turn back to peer down at the lifeless animatronic on the floor behind you.

“What about them?” you ask quietly, pausing beside the mechanic, “Who'll help you take them to Parts if Freddy comes with us?”

“I know a gal,” is all he grunts in return as he raises his wrist and taps on his Fazwatch. The screen lights up, and a chipper voice buzzes through the speakers.

“Andy!”

“Chica,” the mechanic replies in a far less enthusiastic tone, stepping past you to stand over Eclipse's body, “Need a favour. You up for a little heavy lifting?”

Curious as you are to hear her response, it's only worry for your attendant friends that keeps your feet stuck fast to the play mats, and it isn't until Freddy's paw lands on your back that you allow yourself to be gently ushered towards the daycare entrance, tossing a last, lingering glance over your shoulder as you go.

Andy looms over Eclipse, still muttering to his wrist whilst his free hand wraps around the back of his neck, rubbing at the short, grey hairs that grow there, his whole body slouching forwards as if it can no longer bear to keep itself standing upright.

You think you can understand how he feels...

Freddy's guiding paw only manages to stay on your back for all of a few seconds before Monty slips his nose between you and the bear, giving the latter a shove with his powerful jaws.

Thrown, Freddy stumbles sideways at once, emitting a sound of surprise as his footfalls clatter clumsily on the linoleum for a moment, a moment that gives Monty ample time to move his hefty bulk between you and his co-star.

You remain deaf to Freddy's grunt of disapproval as he's forced aside, shooting the gator a reprimanding huff before reaching up to right his hat from where it had been knocked askew.

In the meantime, you continue to limp forwards whilst your head remains twisted over one shoulder, your gaze locked onto the gangling shape that lays on the floor of the daycare, round face-plates half obscured by Andy's legs.

Dark, blank optics bore into you as you're ushered beyond the wooden entrance and out through the red, swinging doors that close in your wake with a firm 'bang,' cutting off your view of that ominous, sightless stare.

Frowning softly, you turn your head forwards again and give a noiseless sigh, emptying your lungs and readying yourself for the walk to the front doors of the Plex. It's to your own shame that you look forward to collapsing on your bed and resting, while the attendants are carted down to Parts and Services where a perfect stranger will poke and prod at their CPU.

You can only hope they'll be okay when they wake up...

And so, in silence, all three of you – human, gator, and bear – begin to amble along the corridor adjoined to the daycare, not a sound passed between you except for the heavy 'clunks' of the animatronic's footfalls.

You keep your eyes on the ground ahead of you, wincing now with every other step, but keeping your expression rigid, sensing the vigilant optics of two bots assessing you from above.

You've almost reached the end of the corridor by the time Freddy breaks the silence.

“How are you feeling, Miss Y/n?” he voices softly, leaning forwards to try and catch your eye.

Exhaling a long, arduous breath through your nose, you raise your head and consider your response.

Somehow, you have enough sense to know that saying 'I'm about three seconds away from pulling my hair out and having a little cry right here in this corridor' to a worry-wart like Freddy wouldn't be the wisest choice of words.

The poor bear is already peering down at you as though he expects you to fall over at a moment's notice. So, in lieu of the truth, you plaster on a reassuring smile and aim it up at the star, telling him, “I'm all right, Freddy...” And then, because you're aware of the skeptical twitch of his plastic brows, you add a safe truth. “I'm just... really, really tired...”

You don't notice Monty's head lower to squint at you discerningly.

“Ah, that is quite understandable,” Freddy nods sagely as he presses ahead and holds open the lobby doors ahead of you, leaving Monty to linger behind and watch you through them with a careful optic, “You've had a very exciting day.”

“Excitin' ain't the word I'd use,” the gator huffs, sliding through and reclaiming his spot at your side before Freddy can bustle in to take it.

Apparently oblivious to his co-star's comment, Freddy simply settles into a steady lope on the opposite side of Monty and peers around him to continue addressing you. “I noticed you were looking a little peaky during the performance...”

Now you know he's being polite. You can't imagine that spending a sleepless night in the hospital without any opportunity to clean yourself up has left you looking your best. In response to the bear, you merely give a non-committal hum.

Once again, you all fall silent, although judging from the frequent glances that Freddy shoots down to you, you think it's safe to presume he has something else on his processor that's just bursting to get out.

Sure enough, after taking a few steps towards the lift...

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Did I... What?” you blink, turning to raise a quizzical brow at the bear.

“The performance,” he reiterates, tapping his fingertips together hopefully, “What did you think?”

Well, you muse, aside from the impromptu shoutout...

“You guys were fantastic,” you tell him with a genuine smile that only grows wider when Freddy's ears wiggle in delight, jangling his little, red earring.

Turning to Monty, you add, “You though, Mont, you stole the show!”

Clenching his fists, the gator has to focus hard on the creaking plastic to keep the pneumatic actuators beneath his casing from pulling his lips into a proud smile. There's a pressing question that's been nagging at the front of his processor, one that's been burning a hole through his chip ever since he looked up at the concert and found you missing, and he'll be damned if he's going to let a little compliment from his... from you distract him.

“Liked it, did'ja?” he mumbles.

You're still aiming a tired grin up at the side of his snout when you reply, “Of course I did...”

“Then why'd you leave..?”

Ah... There goes your smile... He almost pierces his plastic palms with his claws in some kind of self-imposed admonishment for erasing it.

But... he has to know.

Swallowing, you turn to face forwards again, dimly registering that Monty is has begun to turn himself towards you little by little, subtly herding you in the direction of the lift behind the photo booth.

Your crutches click noisily on the tiled floor. The answer to his question is precisely what you'd been hoping to avoid. And now you're stuck between a rock and a hard place. Do you tell him the truth and cause he and Freddy to worry, or do you tell a white lie and potentially insult them with a lacklustre reason for ditching the show early?

… God, your eyelids ache with the effort of holding them open.

Defeatedly, your shoulders droop and you ask, “You want an honest answer, or an answer that won't upset you?”

“Well... Honesty is my favourite policy – Oh. Watch your step,” Freddy chimes in as he moves ahead of you onto the lift before turning to face you, taking your wrist in his enormous paw and keeping you steady as you step on after him.

“Thanks, Fred,” you murmur gently.

Though he makes a show of rolling his optics at the bear, Monty concurs. “We're big bots, lady. Reckon we can handle it.”

The lift shudders when the gator steps on after you, dipping slightly with a groan of metal. You pause long enough for the sound to stop before you reach out and jab a thumb on the button for the bottom floor, blowing a noisy sigh through pursed lips.

“Doctors gave me some pain meds after the operation,” you finally confess, “But only enough for today. I was meant to go straight to a pharmacy after I left the hospital to get some over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. But...” Your voice trails off as the lift slows to a smooth halt, dinging once before the doors slide open to let you leave.

“But you didn't,” Monty points out, his voice nearly a growl.

Watchful of your every move, the bots linger behind whilst you swing the crutches forwards and haul yourself from the lift. You don't bother to wait for them, fully aware that they could catch up and overtake you in just a few strides.

Dipping your head towards your shoulder in a sideways shrug, you glance around the lobby, relieved to find that most of the foot-traffic is concentrated inside the gift shops. There are very few guests milling about around the open space, just a few tired parents chatting with one another near the turnstiles and a group of teenagers perched on the edge of the enormous, bronze statue that has pride of place at the centre of the lobby.

Only a few glance in your direction as you hobble past, sparing Freddy and Monty vaguely curious glances, but nobody seems altogether inclined to get up and greet the stars of the Pizzaplex. It's likely they've been here more times than one can count, and the novelty of walking, talking animatronics has worn off.

Perhaps you're just more impressed because you've seen these bots behind closed-doors, but you find that it's a sad world where impressive feats of technology like the Glamrocks are regarded as mundane, as if they're little more than a passing fad.

As you suspected, it isn't long before titanic footfalls tromp heavily up to your side once more, neither bot willing to let you stray too far ahead, apparently. You appreciate the vigilance, though you still find it a little overdramatic.

“Started feeling the meds wear off during your performance,” you continue softly once Monty's big, green nose appears in the corner of your vision, “And I got worried that if I didn't get to the daycare soon, I wouldn't be able to hide my pain from the attendants, so...”

“... So you left before the pain got too much to bear,” Freddy finishes for you, his ears tipping back in sympathy.

The gator, however, picks up on something else entirely. “Does it hurt real bad'?” Bristling, he takes a glance down and begins to scan your leg for the umpteenth time.

You reply with an exasperated shake of your head, though the motion is still fond. “It's my own fault, Mont,” you tell him, taking the lead and bringing them through the open turnstile that allows guests to leave, manned by a single, motionless S.T.A.F.F bot.

The gator stomps through behind you, grumbling something under his 'breath' that you miss beneath the S.T.A.F.F bot's generic, blaring address.

“Thank you for visiting Fazbear's Pizzaplex. Please, have a Faz-erific day.”

“Likewise,” you respond automatically before turning over your shoulder to address Monty again, “And it's not so bad-” Liar. “- If it was really hurting, I might've asked one of you to carry me.”

Freddy is the last to leave through the turnstile, tipping his hat politely to the smaller bot before he hurries up to your side again.

“Flowers was right,” Monty rumbles, lowering his optics to the cast on your leg, “You should'a gone straight home....”

With the main entrance mere steps away, you let out a sigh and draw to an unsteady halt in front of it. Beside you, the heavy animatronics do the same, their footsteps stopping in near-perfect synch. Hesitant, Monty turns his head towards you, his optics clicking open in surprise when he sees your hand rising steadily towards his face. He doesn't move a piston, holding his metaphorical breath as you lay a gentle palm on top of his snout and give it a slow, soothing stroke, right from his glasses to the tip of his nostrils. He has no throat to gulp, but his gears whir as he swivels his gaze from your hand to your eyes, vaguely registering the warm hum emitting from Freddy's chest.

“I'm glad I came here first,” you tell him, resolute, “For my own peace of mind, if nothing else. I wanted to see for myself that you were okay. That endo nearly ripped you to pieces.”

It takes the gator's sensors a moment to recognise your touch.

And when everything clicks into place, it takes all of his processing power to refrain from sagging like a big, green balloon with the air let out. This is the second time today you've willingly put your fragile, little hand close to his crushing jaws...

Worry. You'd described worry. You wanted to see that he was okay? He almost finds the notion inconceivable.

After all, he's Montgomery Gator. He... He doesn't worry about anyone, and nobody worries about him. That's the way it's always been...

He wants to smack Freddy with his tail when the bear announces pleasantly, “You were worried about him.”

As you turn to face the star, your hand still resting lightly on Monty's snout, the gator settles for whipping his optics up to glare at Freddy from behind your head -

- But he's stopped when you say, plain and simple, “Of course I was.”

Of course you were...

Of course.

“Well” you announce suddenly, drawing your hand from Monty's snout and returning it to the handle of your crutch, “I suppose I'd better get going before any else turns up to tell me I've made some bad decisions.”

The warmth from your hand disappears too fast, too soon, and Monty has to catch himself before he leans down to try and keep your palm attached to his nose.

Freddy's head dips in concurrence, regarding you with a soft fondness that sets the gator's fingers twitching. But at last, the bear drags his optics away from you and turns them instead to the open entrance and the carpark beyond. All at once, the easy-going lift of his jaw falls, his brows sliding together into the centre of his forehead as a troubled hum spews from his voice-box.

Following the line of his gaze, Monty soon discovers why.

The afternoon is slowly bleeding into the first touches of a cold, dark evening, and the sky overhead has grown heavy with grey clouds. Snow falls lightly from above, not enough to be of any concern to the traffic on the well-gritted roads, but enough that they can several humans meandering back to their cars, rubbing their gloved hands together and wrapping brightly-coloured scarves around their children's necks as they exit their vehicles.

“Looks like we're in for another cold one,” you remark, drawing Monty's attention down to you.

Shifting on his actuators, the gator casts a fleeting look between you and the world beyond the Plex's main entrance.

This is it, he supposes. You'll be going home now... To a place that's entirely foreign to him, filled with unknowns and unpredictability.... A place where anything could potentially happen to you, and he'd have no idea until word eventually reached him from the staff gossip chain...

Why has it only just occurred to him that the outside world might be a dangerous place? He's never considered that possibility before, not once.

“You comin' in tomorrow?” he finds himself asking before he can mute his voice-box.

Puffing out your cheeks, you blow a noisy breath through your lips before giving a wince and replying, “Not sure I can, big guy. The doctor said that fractured ankles take about eight weeks to heal.”

Eight weeks?

Now, Montgomery would never claim to be a scholarly type of bot, especially in the realm of mathematics, but he does have the advantage of having a computer for a brain.

Eight weeks? That calculates to fifty six days. Roughly thirteen hundred and forty four hours...

Damn. That's... a long time for you to be absent. Why, anything could happen in eight weeks...

“You, uh...” the gator starts fumblingly, half distracted by Freddy's stare that refuses to shift away from the side of his face. Still, he manages to cough out the rest of his question in an awkward mumble. “You gonna be okay? You got someone lookin' out for ya at home, right?”

“Well, my fish haven't let me down yet,” you laugh, though the sound quickly peters out into a hum once you catch both Monty and Freddy peering down at you, neither quite as amused as you seem to be with your own little joke.

Sharing a look between themselves, Freddy is the first to return his attention to you and tentatively ask, “You live alone?”

Balking, you offer the bear a hesitant chuckle and reply, “Bit of a personal thing to ask someone, isn't it?”

Plastic brows click down into a long, stern line, like a father on the cusp of gently scolding his brood.

“Y/n...” he starts.

“No need to make it sound so dramatic,” you interject lightly, “Lots of people live on their own.”

“Hmm... I don't mean to pry,” he says, raising a large, careful paw and laying it down on your shoulder, a warm gesture that puts a brief ache of longing deep inside your chest, “I only ask because I'd like to know that there's someone there who can take care of you.”

Slowly, your eye swivels sideways to peer at the inhuman appendage engulfing your shoulder. Something in your ribcage shifts, like a blockage coming unstuck and letting clear, healthy waters run freely for the first time in a while.

You have to squeeze your eyes into a hard blink before they can grow too misty.

Sniffing up at the towering animatronic, you raise your own hand and lay it over the top of his, giving the smooth, sturdy plastic a pat. “You're a good sort, Freddy, I hope you know that.”

The bear's ears twitch forwards and his upper jaw lifts slowly, sending your smile right back at you.

“But,” you add pointedly, “You don't need to worry. I'm sure Andy will stop by every now and again to make sure I'm still in one piece.”

“I certainly hope so,” he utters warmly, right before he throws another blow at your quivering heart, “You're part of the Fazbear family. We take care of our own.”

Unseen by either of you, Montgomery stands a few feet away, observing the interaction with a growing sense of disquiet. Deep in his innermost circuitry, he can already feel that familiar, old monster raise its ugly head, it's hue a sickly green that's awfully reminiscent of his own paint-job. It growls inside his stomach hatch, bulging outwards threateningly as Freddy's paw remains on you.

But at least this time, the monster isn't given too long to fester.

In another second, Freddy slides his hand from your shoulder and steps back, returning his optics to the car park outside. Gradually, with a subtle creak of metal, Monty's jaws unclench and he twists his head around to follow the bear's line of sight, listening to the rumble of a distant engine creep closer.

Through the wintery gloom, a sleek, black car turns off the main road and passes beneath the neon sign that welcomes visitors to the Plex. Monty squints at it, his eye drawn to the illuminated, white box sitting on top of the roof that simply reads, 'Taxi.'

“Reckon that's your ride,” he mumbles.

Humming through closed lips, you bob your head in a nod. “Looks like.”

Admittedly, it's a relief to see the car pull in. Your legs are beginning to quake under the effort of keeping yourself upright for far longer than you really ought to have.

Movement at your side draws you back to the animatronic bear, whose friendly, blue optics are shuttered half-closed, his broad shoulders slumping dolefully as he bends himself down and opens his arms, paws upturned in invitation.

The gesture is so plain and comprehensible, entirely human in its execution.

He's asking you for a hug.

And, well... Who are you to deny the face of Fazbear Inc. a farewell hug?

Freddy regards you with a hopeful waggle of his ears when you smile, hobbling across the meagre distance between you, well within the circle of his arms. Uttering a pleasant hum, he loops his hands behind your back and gently scoops you into his chest. Just like that, you're surrounded by the bear's convivial warmth that does wonders to chase away the biting wind slipping under the Plex's entrance to chill your cheeks and fingertips.

Sinking into Freddy's chest, you let out a contented hum, pinching your eyes shut as he does the same, his baritone voice thrumming through the ear you've pressed to his casing.

“Take care of yourself, won't you?” he rumbles, his chin alighting delicately on top of your head, “The better you do, the sooner we get to see you again!”

It never ceases to amaze you how an animatronic can inject so much humanity into even their most mundane of actions and words. Freddy's expressions of genuine kindness are as authentic as any human's. Of course they are. The AI that was implemented into him was designed to learn from the very species that created it. How can anyone say his compassion is only artificial? Kindness doesn't care whether the one wielding it is human or robot.

Breathing a deep, sigh, you sink deeper into Freddy's embrace, selfishly indulging in a comfort you've been desperately seeking since the trauma of last night's attack.

Of course, with a certain animatronic alligator in the vicinity, this peaceable moment was never destined to last very long.

“A'right, a'right,” Monty complains loudly, his claws sinking into the hem of your shirt to ease you backwards out of Freddy's grasp, “That's enough. You're gonna squeeze the air outta 'er if you keep that up.”

Rightfully aghast, the bear reels his head back as if Monty had struck him, exclaiming, “I would never!” Yet even still, his arms slowly peel open from around you, allowing the gator to pull you free and nudge you towards the open entrance.

“Not to worry, Freddy, you were very gentle,” you tell him kindly before throwing Monty an expectant look, eyebrows raised and arms held in much the same way as Freddy just had, “What about you, Mont? Can I interest you in one of these?”

A very small, hidden part of the gator that he doesn't want to examine too closely is immensely pleased that you'd been the one to offer. He isn't sure his pride would be able to stomach it if Freddy were to witness him admitting that he wants a hug before you leave. Despite popular belief, Monty is a hugger... He just... doesn't get as much opportunity to do so as the other animatronics.

Still, he exactly show his hand so publicly, especially with Fazbear breathing down his neck. Folding his arms across his chest, Monty gives a dismissive snort and shrugs his massive shoulders, mumbling, “Sure, fine. If you wanna, I guess.”

He doesn't know if his faux-reluctance fools you or not, but in the next few moments, he finds he doesn't much care, not when you hobble close to him on the crutches and topple forwards into a hug that forces him to the throw his arms out to catch you with a soft 'oof.'

Startled, the gator stares down at the top of your head as you sink against his inflexible frame, moulding yourself to him as if he was designed to perfectly accommodate you, and you alone.

Now, Monty has hugged children before, those that have been brave enough to ask the massive gator with sharp fangs and even sharper claws. But this, he realises, might just be the first time he's ever hugged an adult. It feels... different.

Your hands aren't sticky, for one.

Worn, calloused palms wrap around his midsection, as far as your arms can reach, and the gator's core nearly overloads when you turn your face to the side and press your cheek against his chest.

Dimly, he registers that he has yet to actually lay his hands on you.

The gator's optics swivel between each of his raised appendages, fingers splayed out as they hover over your shoulders without direction. He notices his claws. They look... sharper than they had before. They look dangerous, especially now that he's seeing them against a backdrop of soft, fragile skin.

He would never hurt you...

But that's what he thought last night, and still, he'd been the one to fall upon your leg.

It's only when you start to pull away that he suddenly realises that this moment – this wonderful, overwhelming moment – is about to end. Desperation to keep you to himself for just a few more seconds gives the gator enough courage to curl his claws into his fists and press his knuckles into your back, his head tipped low to nudge his chin into the back of your neck.

The only sound you emit is a subtle huff of amusement before you return to your original position, giving him a firmer squeeze.

“Thanks, Monty. I needed this...” you mumble against him, giving him the out.

Working his jaw silently a few times, he eventually manages to reply, “Don't, uh... don't mention it.”

And then, just like that, it's over.

You pull back, and he lets you this time, his knuckles sliding carefully across the back of your shirt until you lean back far enough that he loses his grip, and his arms flop back to his sides with a creak of metal.

“Right!” you announce, blinking rapidly and shaking a weary smile onto your face, “And on that note, I'll see you guys soon.”

You start to turn towards the exit, raising a hand off one crutch to return the little wave that Freddy gives you, but before you can limp another step, the gator once again gives you pause.

“Hey... Before you go.. I, uh...”

You stop mid step, easing yourself about to face him again and sending him another expectant look.

For some time, he hesitates, yet when your eyes start to flick between he and the taxi outside, he balls his hands into fists and eventually mumbles out like a petulant teen, “I wanted to... to thank you, or whatever.”

“Thank me?” you echo, knitting your brows together, “For what?”

'For what...' He almost huffs in dark amusement. How can he sum it up in a few words, all the things he has to thank you for?

Monty's large hands fiddle idly with one of his spiked wrist-bands for a moment as he tries and fails to look you directly in the eye, hiding behind his glasses. “I spoke to Flowers...” the gator eventually sighs, “He said he wouldn't'a checked my visual feed if you hadn't told 'im it wasn't me that attacked you.”

“What else was I going to do?” you huff, giving him an amused smile, “Let you take the fall for something you didn't do?”

For several, quiet moments, he doesn't respond, merely drops his gaze to the floor between you and gives his shoulder struts a halfhearted shrug. It occurs to you, suddenly, that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have been surprised if you'd done exactly that.

“Oh. Monty-” you start, reaching out a hand.

“Ah, s'nothin',” he says gruffly, though he doesn't stop you when you touch your fingertips to the side of his dangling arm, taking care to avoid the spikes on his wrist band, “Just... Just... Thanks. Y'know? For havin' my back.”

The worry on your face stays for a few more moments, just long enough that he catches it when his optics find your eyes again, but soon, you allow your expression to soften, pressing your fingers a little more firmly against his casing. “Thanks for having mine first,” you shrug, lips quirked, “I mean, what are friends for, right?”

Quick as a flash, one of the gator's brows slides up his forehead. “Friends?” he parrots.

“Oh,” you fumble, casting your mind out like a net searching for the right word, “I mean... what, colleagues?”

Leaning back on his leg struts, Monty regards you coolly for several seconds, peering at you over the rim of his glasses before he snorts softly, one side of his mouth tugging up into a smirk. “Nah...Friends is fine. 'Sides, reckon you've earned an upgrade.” He drops an optic in a lazy wink.

Taken aback, you consider the bot in front of you, recalling the ferocious sight of the colossal animatronic who bore down on you in his green room not so many nights ago. Montgomery Gator, Monster of the Pizzaplex, has just claimed you for a friend.

Perhaps a few days ago, you might've been perturbed by such a revelation, but now, despite the agony working its way up your leg, despite the heavy cast and the stinging ache behind your eyes, and your worry for the daycare attendants, Monty's little acknowledgement sits like a bubble of light in your chest.

Gratitude swelling, you cock your hip and fondly reply, “Lucky me.”

The tender moment is ruined in an instant when, from outside, a loud, blaring horn blasts across the car park, causing you and the two animatronics to whip your heads in the direction of the taxi, whose driver has his arm sticking out the window, beckoning to you impatiently.

“Whoops,” you laugh, “That's our time. Andy must have told him to be on the lookout for a girl on crutches.”

With that, you're once again shuffling through the building's wide exit, only this time, Monty doesn't attempt to stop you, perhaps realising that he's gleaned all the extra time from you that he can.

“Oh, before I forget!” Twisting back to face the bots who're still standing vigil by the entrance, you call out, “Monty, can you let the DJ know what happened? And Triple M too! I don't want them thinking I've forgotten about them again.

Standing to attention, the gator knocks off a quick salute and shouts back, “Consider it done, lady!"

You throw him a wave in response before you turn back to the taxi and continue making your way over the frost-covered tarmac, away from the Pizzaplex, and away from the gator who stares after you with tilted brows and a mellow longing worming its way through his wires.

Together, he and Freddy watch you throw your crutches into the back of the car, then clamber in after them, and all the while, Monty finds himself stewing over how the driver hadn't stepped out to assist.

Grumbling to himself, he crosses his arms over his chest, tail lashing in agitation behind him.

"I don't like to think of her dealing with this by herself," Freddy murmurs at his side, ears tilted back at an angle conveying his worry, "I do hope she'll be all right..."

For once, Monty finds that he actually agrees with the bear.

"Yeah..." he utters, his optics tracking the glowing, red tail-lights of the taxi as it swings around the car park and turns right onto the main road, "Me too..."

#Fnaf #fnaf security breach #security breach #fnafsb #On the Ropes #Montgomery Gator #reader #Monty x reader #Freddy Fazbear #Glamrock Freddy #Fluff and angst #hurt/comfort #protectiveness #anger #violence #Five nights at Freddys #Feedback always always greatly appreciated

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shadowsong26fic · 1 year

Text

So, in part to get myself writing Regularly again (instead of in random spurts at Inconvenient Times like The Middle Of The Night or While I’m At Work), I’ve decided to do this OTP prompt list. And because Why Stop At One, I’m doing a few different sets? But limiting myself to one for each fandom/verse. Which are specifically going to be BSG, Star Wars, and my three primary original ‘verses. (While there are others I considered--including saying ‘well different eras in SW are kind of different fandoms’--five is a nice round number, so that’s where we’re headed.)

I already know who (and most of what) I’m doing for BSG; Star Wars I’m either doing Anidala or Obianidala; but for my original stuff I haven’t settled, and so I am seeking Opinions! (Also still seeking opinions on SWBB, but I’m currently leaning towards option 2 there, based on feedback I’ve had so far)

List is below, with additional details (for those of you who are unfamiliar) behind the cut.

Farglass Cycle:

Taz/Dallu

Nolani/Lonura

Sorell/Nida

Kesshare/Ineku(?)

Deshell/Fesha

Lux:

Lux/Mariko

Simon/Ruth

Al/Laura

Tsuna/Evan

Go platonic with the Horsemen

Untitled Intrigues Story:

Sef/Del and Sef/Tahnrin

Larien/Metanrye

Ahnrel/Kamer

The Farglass Cycle is a swords-and-sorcery type more or less traditional fantasy; the time period I mostly write in (and from which all these characters come) is centered around a war between Feredar (and its allies) and a coalition of other nations, the most prominent of which are the City of Glass, Asendar, and the Islands. The magic system is based on elements (water, fire, air, earth, lightning/magnetism, metal, sound, and blood). The level of tech is probably comparable to the 16th century. Feredar is the bad guy here, although the crown princess of Glass probably would be in another version of this story.

Taz/Dallu

Taz Hantree is a Captain from the Islands. Sometimes a pirate, sometimes a legitimate merchant; she smuggles things (and people) in and out of Feredar; one of the main characters. She is also kind of a chaos gremlin (it’s the Pirate Captain in her XD) and also a water-mage.

Dallu is her partner and navigator; he comes from the North, which has a longstanding relationship with the Islands. He’s a lightning-mage, and can therefore read and manipulate weather. Generally a pretty chill dude.

Nolani/Lonura

Nolani is the eldest daughter of the Crown Princess of Glass. She’s very close to her younger siblings, especially her brother. Kind of a Mom Friend at heart; also a hopeless romantic. She has a string of generally brief relationships during her wildfire years, eventually settling with Lonura. Like all members of the Glass royal family, she is a fire-mage.

Lonura is a noble from one of the mountain borders of Glass. She’s a sound-mage, and has been hopelessly in love with Nolani for a while. She tends to be a fairly quiet person, more content with backing people who are in the spotlight than being in the spotlight herself.

Sorell/Nida

Sorell is the King of Feredar when the story opens. He’s generally the lesser of two evils when compared with his eldest son, but when you’re comparing a guy to a genocidal warlord, that’s. Not saying much. In his personal life/with his family, he’s generally a decent man. Very devoted to his wife and children; he came to the throne after his parents and four older brothers were assassinated when he was fifteen.

Nida was initially sent to seduce and marry Sorell by her mother, who is heavily involved in resisting the structural problems that later allow Kellom to do what he does. As is often the case, she falls for her own honey trap, and ends up balking when asked to murder her husband after their fifth child/second son is born.

Kesshare/Ineku

There is a question mark on this one for a reason.

Kesshare is the Crown Princess of Glass (again, would be the villain in another story). She is an extremely self-aware sociopath. She’s incapable of empathy or love, but she’s aware of it and makes sure to compensate in the areas where it matters (with her husband, with her children). She married someone who would make up for that and be a better parent than she’s capable of, and she made it very clear that she would never love him. That being said, their relationship is a close one, and one of the longest and most successful in the story.

Ineku is from a merchant clan, and a non-mage. He’s a doctor by training, and loves Kesshare, knowing full well who and what she is. He spends a lot of time with their children, and is just...a very kind person; also not afraid to tell Kesshare when she’s crossing a line (which, to be fair, is part of what she wants from him, so).

Deshell/Fesha

These two are minor characters, involved with the serial killer sideplot.

Deshell is investigating the murders, and eventually mayor of the Asendar port town he lives in. He and Fesha are the other very long and successful relationship in this canon; while they do have a period where they almost fall apart, but they work through it Like Adults.

Fesha is a nurse, she met Deshell when she was working for her uncle. They have two biological sons and one adopted--a street kid who witnessed one of the serial killer’s murders. Deshell didn’t exactly Ask before bringing the kid home, which Fesha wasn’t thrilled with (the not-asking, not the bringing the kid home). But, again, they worked through their communication issues and had a long and happy relationship after that.

Lux is basically the Apocalypse In SPACE.

Lux/Mariko

Lux is Lucifer. That’s...yep, she’s Lucifer. Currently presenting as female (angels have a different relationship to gender than humans do); she was freed from her prison before she was ready, kicking off the Apocalypse. Did not intend to have Feelings for her human and yet.

Mariko is a human translator; she met Lux when she was working for the human/earth delegation to the Space UN, and fell in love with her there. Things went very far south when Lux located the people who had raised her (the reason she was on the station in the first place) and murdered them; Mariko walked in on this; there was fire involved and Mariko was badly burned; and then they don’t see each other for ten years. Lux came clean when they reunited, and they slowly rebuild their relationship from there.

Simon/Ruth

Simon is immortal. Technically a nephil, though he almost never knows that. His memories get periodically erased by the angels for reasons that made sense at the beginning, but make less and less sense as time goes on. When he met Ruth, he was in a fairly blank state, and had been given the name David Gilboa; he had his name and he was working as a math teacher.

Ruth met Simon, then known as David, when they were set up by a mutual friend. It was a kind of awkward first blind date--a lot of the usual questions get Awkward when the person you’re meeting only has four years’ worth of personal memories--but there was enough of a connection that she agreed to a second. They built a life together, and got married. When he was pulled away/had his memory erased again by the angels, she was pregnant, and had a son. Their relationship is generally pretty sweet and low-key until it’s Tragic (there is an AU where he contacts her again once he remembers her; but in canon he decided it was kinder to her to stay away, rather than risk being pulled away again, especially since she’d had ten years to grieve him at that point).

Al/Laura

Alejandro is the head of the Family, descendants of Simon and Ruth’s son, who keep track of the angels and whatever information they can find about the Apocalypse and their role in it (all the major human characters come from the Family, they know that much). Roughly a thousand years later, there are Many cousins to keep track of, some who barely even really count as related.

Laura is a reporter; she’s not part of the Family. Her father was a diplomat, so when Al read her in on some of the more. Uh. Supernatural aspects of what it is he does, she took it fairly well. They get married, and have a couple kids and grandkids. She’s actually working on a story on the CSP (Space UN) station when Lux sets it on fire. When Al is later abducted by the Horsemen, she more or less bullies an angel into helping her track him down. Not someone to be trifled with.

Tsuna/Evan

Mariko’s parents.

Tsuna is a retired professional ballerina, and now a ballet teacher.

Evan is an accountant.

There’s...not all that much else to say about them, lol. They’re fairly normal. They met when the company he was working for--a toy company--did a benefit featuring the Nutcracker as performed by Tsuna’s ballet company. His long-time best friend and sister in all but blood Cecily worked in marketing at the same company and dragged him along, and they’ve been together ever since.

Go platonic with the Horsemen

Kind of four sisters, kind of three women coparenting a twelve-year-old. All are part of the Family.

Rubika (Death) is in her mid-twenties when they’re activated; she’s the nominal leader of the group. She worked for the Family as a messenger (gathering and distributing news of births/marriages/deaths/etc.) Her mother is a farmer on Charon. It was her idea to kidnap Al.

Shane (Famine) is in her eighties or nineties when they’re activated. She was married once. The marriage ended in divorce when Alex cheated on her. She’s the only one of the Horsemen who met Simon before they were activated, on a couple of different occasions.

Dimana (War) is in her forties when they’re activated, a con artist and professional gambler. She thrives on competition, and has absolutely zero shame about the life she’s chosen to live.

Imi (Pestilence) is about twelve when they’re activated. Her father was part of the Family, but died while her mother was pregnant. She was raised by her mother and grandparents, who hated each other. When her mother died, her grandparents weren’t interested in keeping her, and she was brought (by Rubika) to stay with one of her father’s distant cousins.

Untitled Intrigues Story is a hard-fantasy political intrigues story. Two of the most powerful nations on the map, Elanhe and Nandere, have a history of rivalry, occasionally breaking out into war. Thirty-five/forty years before the story begins, the High Priest at the time brokered an uneasy peace between them. As part of that peace, the sister of the King of Elanhe married the King of Nandere, and the sister of the King of Nandere married the King of Elanhe. While this treaty did more or less stop the open war, it didn’t really do much to ease the tension between the two kingdoms. In the present, the Kings from the original treaty have both died within about six months of each other. Their respective eldest sons, Malue of Nandere and Larien of Elanhe, have inherited. The current High Priest, Jemairin, has sent his children to try and maintain and strengthen the peace before it collapses completely, which is considered Likely without further intervention. His eldest, Ahnrel, is sent as envoy to Nandere; his second, Sefalin, is sent as envoy to Elanhe; and his youngest, Neiali, is sent to track down Larien’s full brother Idan, who befriended Malue when they were children, but disappeared a few years before the story proper opens.

Sef/Del and Sef/Tahnrin

So this isn’t technically an OTP. It’s also not really an OT3. It’s a vee, not a triad, in part because the metamours are, in fact, related.

Sefalin is, as mentioned above, the middle child of the High Priest (priests in this world are allowed to have children but not married; they’re not supposed to have relationships that can compete with their relationships to the church or the gods; and while your kids are always your kids, the time period when that is a Primary relationship is at least in theory by its nature finite, children grow up and have their own lives; not so much with a spouse). He’s fairly good with nuance, but also tends to sort of...get swept along by events, and while he is mindful of his primary mission here, he’s gotten as much involved in helping to balance Elanhe’s internal politics as keeping Larien from escalating things with Nandere.

Landelye is the elder daughter of King Larien. Women in Elanhe are not allowed to inherit titles, but since her father has no sons and his legitimate brother is missing, there’s a chance the rules might be changed for her. She’s serious, and a little devious; she set out to seduce Sefalin to get him on her side, but she found out he was charming and funny and oh no I have a problem. She loves him enough to be willing to share him, which brings us to...

Tahnrin is Larien’s bastard half-brother. He’s the other primary candidate to be declared Larien’s heir in Idan’s absence, and is fighting a war of intrigue with his niece accordingly. He was initially interested in Sef for the same reasons Del is--and fell into the same trap she did.

Sef is very careful to balance his relationships with his lovers; he loves them both, and even if he wanted to choose between them, he’s aware that that would have political as well as personal consequences, and if he help keep them balanced and prevent Elanhe from spiraling into a civil war...well, that can only be a good thing, right?

Larien/Metanrye

Larien is, as mentioned, the King of Elanhe. He’s a subtle and dangerous man; he’s not going to start a war (that would cost him more than it would gain him) but he is damned well going to win it if his cousin of Nandere causes Problems. Probably the only impulsive, non-calculated thing he’s ever done was marry Metanrye, when they were both teenagers. And even that, he weighed the costs and benefits before doing it. He does love her, truly, and while they’ve occasionally engaged in some bedroom diplomacy (not an uncommon practice in Elanhe), he’s extremely loyal to her. They have two daughters, and she can’t have more children; but the idea of divorcing her in hopes of having a legitimate son bothers him more than upending centuries of law and tradition to name either Del or Tahnrin as his heir.

Metanrye is a firmly--almost ruthlessly--practical woman. She loves her husband deeply, and has from the moment they met. She was not expecting him to marry her. Very Elanhean, very used to wielding subtle power in the background, she is completely behind her husband in public, but willing to argue or influence him in private. She’s hoping he’ll name her daughter as his heir, of course, but is staying on the fringes of that contest.

Ahnrel/Kamer

Ahnrel is Jemairin’s oldest, and sent to Nandere. He’s much more straightforward than his brother. He tends to dive into problems and work them out as he goes, and is doing his best to moderate that tendency/wait to act until he has all the information he needs so he can fulfill his half of the deal and maintain the peace. Nanderese politics are--at least on the surface--much more straightforward than what’s going on in Elanhe; Malue is unmarried and has his younger brother for his heir.

Kamer is a palace guard, assigned to guide and protect Ahnrel. Kamer is a fairly rigid person, almost painfully upright and devoted to his duty, which currently is both to Ahnrel and to Nandere, and he’ll protect them both from everything he can. Including his own, increasingly intense feelings for the envoy.

#shadowsong writes original fic #feedback greatly appreciated

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