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blasphemecel · 2 years

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Yami Bakura — Not Exactly An Elegiac Romance

PAIRING: Yami Bakura/Reader WORD COUNT: 6.3k TYPE: Crackfic, Minimal fluff, Canon Divergence WARNING(S): This takes place in an AU where post-canon Bakura is Kind of rehabilitated. Like he's not a good person but he's not actively trying to destroy the world and etc. He's going through a version of peaking in high school where the peak in question was threatening humanity and he's microdosing on reliving it through being a major pest

You would have to be insolent not to realize there's something off about this man. It's not a matter of deceit — his profile makes his mental instability clear as day to you.

Your problem could be your stupidity, but maybe it’s your lack of impulse control, but either way it’s something cardinal and you can’t seem to shake its roots.

Sparing his bio another glance, you let the words sink in and eat away your frontal lobe like they did the first time you read them.

Bakura, 20

I Am Not Here To Fuck Around. I Am An Ancient Evil Spirit Of A Thief And I've Been Mad For Thousands of Years. I Need A Ride Or Die Willing To Put Their Lives On The Line Or Get Sent To The Shadow Realm Assisting Me. You Must Handle My Cunning Be Willing To Feed Pigeons At The Park Laxatives Among Other Minor Evils... Serious Inquiries Only.

Then you look at his picture. You zoom in close enough to count the pixels in your search for any kind of imperfection, though unfortunately, you have to admit he's the most handsome man you've come across on this app, with sharp features and long white hair (even if strangely styled). He's striking in a way that makes you second guess your decision to ignore his existence.

Unsure of what to do, you switch back and forth between the description and gallery tabs, thinking, Hot, insane, hot, insane, hot, insane.

Well, it's not a given he'll swipe back on you. Maybe you could just... approve him since he's so good-looking, and then you'll move on with your day, and nothing will come of it-

Fuck.

You furrow your eyebrows immediately after sliding your fingers across the screen. Fuck. Seems like he liked your profile before you got to his. Now it's a match.

You let out a curt laugh. What's the worst that could happen?

The worst that could happen is arranging a date with him, apparently. After two weeks of no messages which led you to forgetting his existence, five flop dates with your other matches from the app, and nothing to smile about in your life, you somehow ended up getting called a mortal and being invited to a public park.

You show up ten minutes early with your inner discussion of Hot VS Insane still going on.

Something rustles in a bush nearby. Startled, you stop debating whether this was a good idea and look around until your date appears out of thin air with a leaf stuck in his hair almost immediately. With too much nonchalance, he throws it off, self-content expression not wavering.

"Were you, uh, were you hiding in the bushes?“

"Leaving you waiting would be inconsiderate, would it not?" he asks with a conceited smile, like what he said is something to be smug about.

You blink at him. Levelly, "That doesn't really answer my question."

"A guy like me is used to lurking in the shadows," he says, as if that's supposed to mean anything. For good measure, he throws in a somewhat sinister laugh at the end of his sentence.

You continue staring at him. "Okay," you settle on, figuring there's nothing else you could say to that. "Your hair looks wonderful for someone who was hiding in the bushes."

"I don't care," says Bakura with a grin before grabbing you by the wrist. You stumble after him while he drags you along to the best of his twinkish ability.

"Where are we going?" you ask with a hint of anxiety. What if he's a crazy kidnapper? Shouldn't he at least try to get to know you before attempting a felony? It's way too soon for any of this. You feel unappreciated, but also too shocked to try fighting him off.

"I'm trying to show you something."

"Is that something an abandoned warehouse?"

"What? Of course not. I haven’t done that in years."

"... What."

Bakura doesn't seem to care to elaborate on this, at least not when he finally has you where he wants you to be. Gesturing towards a motorcycle with a flair of drama, he smiles at you like a lunatic again, offering no explanation.

"That's great." You wince at the sound of your own unenthusiasm.

His lips twist downwards. "Are you not impressed?"

"Is it yours?"

"And why wouldn't it be?"

"Because it has a huge shiny purple plate that says Marik Ishtar on it."

With a vacant expression, Bakura continues surveying you, until he bursts out into another fit of wild laughter, though this time it's more deranged. "Yes... You make a fair point."

Your eyebrows almost fuse with your hairline out of incredulity. You want to ask him what's going on, but something tells you he won't be much help.

On cue, his phone rings. You watch him fumble around with it, almost like he's not sure how to use it, or like his fingers don't belong to him. Then a condescending look contorts his face, most likely reserved for whoever's calling him. "Marik."

"So the bike really isn't yours, then?" you chime in.

"Shut up [Y/n], no one's asking you," Bakura barks out, making you raise your hands in surrender and lean away from him.

"Bakura, stop stealing my motorcycle! I know it was you! You always do this stupid shit," the other person — clearly whoever Marik Ishtar is — yells out. In his frustration, he's speaking loud enough for you to make out what he's saying when you’re not even seeking to eavesdrop.

The smile on Bakura's face doesn't fall in the slightest. It grows bigger, oozing arrogance. "Well, sorry. I borrowed it to ride my DATE around."

"That's not what 'borrow' means," Marik argues. Bakura frowns just this once. You assume because that's not the answer he was looking for. "Besides, you don't even know how to ride it."

Bakura rolls his eyes like a teenager getting scolded by his parents in a sitcom. "You're so boring," he says. "Don't drive without a license this, don't take candy from children that. Grow up! Give me a break."

"You don't even like candy, Bakura."

"And people don't enjoy getting mind controlled by millennium items to win children’s card games."

"Whatever. I've atoned," Marik says dismissively. Meanwhile, you're gawking at the mention of brainwashing. Did you get involved with a LARPer? Or the only other option that could be possibly any worse — two LARPers? "My motor's got a tracker now because of you. So, I’m afraid to say we’ll be seeing each other soon."

"Heh, heh. My displeasure." With that, Bakura hangs up, a creepy smile coming over him. "Alright, we're going for a drive."

"No, we're not. I'm leaving. You keep doing whatever you're doing."

With no warning, he throws you on the seat and places himself behind you before forcing the safety helmet on your head. He's hugging you stiffly so you can't escape, and you realize he's actually kind of holding you hostage, which is also somehow the most predictable thing that has happened today. "You ride then if you think you're so much better than me."

After contemplating the events of the last twenty minutes while Bakura twists the key, turning the motorcycle on, you glance at him from the corner of your eye. "Have you ever considered taking medication?"

He deadpans, "Yes, I'm claimed to be anemic. Now drive."

"You're not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?"

Before he can retort with anything snarky, you hit the brake and speed straight down the road.

Bakura's hair whips around and goes inside his mouth, rendering him speechless.

Once he spits it all out, he yells, "Marik really likes this thing. You should scratch it a little."

"You know, we're supposed to be getting to know each other, but right now I know more about Marik Ishtar than I know about you," you exclaim through the air whisking by your head at rapid speed, making it hard for you to hear.

"Oh, don't be sad. We can play Naked Kill and break each other's legs later," he says tauntingly to satirize his idea of a sentimental night, you presume, before you make a harsh swerve and he rams his head into your helmet.

"I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Clearly planning a romantic night." Apparently, mild concussions also don’t stop him from running his mouth, nor do they rid him of his sardonic undertone. With the way today’s going, you’re thinking you might benefit from blunt force head trauma yourself.

"You're a fucking weirdo," you tell him. "I should crash the bike and kill us both."

"You can't total it! It's Marik's favorite," Bakura hisses out.

"Is that the only thing which concerns you about my plan?!"

You're about to cut another corner when some other guy drives towards you at full speed. It's going to be a head on collision.

"Moron! Get off the road. You clearly don't know how to drive!" You shake your fist at him indignantly.

"That's ironic, coming from someone who's driving my stolen bike."

"Shit," you mumble, realizing you might die a criminal, though you don't sound too upset about it.

Avoiding each other narrowly, you don't pay Marik any mind when he takes a U-Turn to keep following you. "Bakura, why's a man wearing tons of fake gold chasing after us?!"

"Will you two stop it and get off my case?"

"And for the record, it's not fake!" Marik insists, hot on your trail.

"Sure it isn't," you call back sarcastically before parking the motorcycle in the first convenient spot you can see.

"Why'd you stop?" Bakura asks, not bothering to hide the immature disappointment in his tone. "We were just getting to the fun part."

You sigh because words have failed you many times today.

The guy you’re sure is Marik pulls up not much later. When he takes his own helmet off, you can't help but glance between the two of them with mild curiosity. Bakura seems unreasonably happy to meet him considering the circumstances, with the circumstances being the probability of facing serious jail time.

Marik looks at you impassively before commenting, "Oh. It's a different one again." Then he refocuses his attention towards Bakura. "You need to stop doing this. You're already making me regret moving and I've been in Japan for less than a month."

"You're letting little old me affect you this much?" he asks with a mocking chuckle.

"You're a pest. How many times does someone need to send you to hell before you actually stop showing up?"

“I thought you’re a goody-two-shoes and don’t do that ‘skinning people alive’ thing anymore?” Bakura challenges, which only serves to make the other man grit his teeth.

You get the impression you're hearing something you're not supposed to be witnessing at all. Regardless, you clear your throat with a very fake cough and extend your hand towards Marik. "Erm. It's nice to meet you?"

"No, it's not," Marik says, despite shaking it and giving you a pleasant smile. "Your name’s [Y/n], right? I heard Bakura verbally abusing you over the phone," he continues conversationally.

"Yeah, that's me."

Bakura wants to point at both of you accusingly and kindly inform you you're not supposed to be getting along — at least you weren't in his imagined version of this occasion. Though he figures that'd only make him look stupid, so instead he laughs again and wraps his arm around your shoulders. "That wasn't verbal abuse. If you say it like that again, you might just hurt my feelings."

Opting to not pay him any mind, you continue engaging Marik in idle chatter and pointless small talk. And Marik, he doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence. He might be enjoying himself, which only upsets Bakura more. Don’t you understand you’re the ones supposed to be feeling uncomfortable? Or does he have to tell you so you can play your part?

Maybe that would be an alternative if he was a more efficient communicator. Instead, as a woman holding a bouquet passes him by, he stretches a little and plucks out the centerpiece — a large, red rose — before presenting it to you with a smirk. “For you, love.”

Your face almost shrivels inside itself like an asshole. You think it might be the nickname, but it’s also the way you recognize the gesture really isn’t for you. It’s easy to tell by the subtle hint of him not paying attention to you at all and instead ogling Marik for the slightest twitch, trying to detect any betrayal of a reaction. Also, you stabbed your finger with a thorn while taking it from him, which honestly isn’t putting you in a better mood.

Bakura gets nothing besides Marik pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re hopeless.”

“You,” he scoffs, pointing at you. “Don’t make that face! I was trying to be nice.”

“We met an hour ago,” you remind. “And most of that time, I was breaking traffic laws. It’s way too early for me to be your ‘love’ or to receive your ‘roses’, if that’s even their real name.”

“What would you like, then?”

“Your silence.”

Sneering at you, Bakura crosses his arms then and turns up his nose like a snob. “Don’t be foolish, the likes of you could never boss me around.”

You’re not sure why, but Bakura is walking you home. Actually, he’s not really walking you home since you wouldn’t have allowed that, and you don’t think him knowing your address would be a good thing, but either way, he’s following you. Instead of calling for help like any rational person would, you turn towards him and ask the one thing that’s been on your mind since The Situation. “So, was it a recent break up?”

Bakura halts and glares. He turns his head around so suddenly you think he might have pulled a neck muscle. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on! That was obviously your ex you’re not over. Why else would you act like this?” While elaborating, you muster up the most innocent smile you’re capable of, pretending you’re not aware of how presumptuous you’re being right now. You might break a boundary or two, but he’s also tailing you home, which is pretty invasive.

By the look he’s giving you, you can tell he wants to squash you like an insect. You’re not sure if striking a nerve was the right call, but then again, you don’t seem to make reliable decisions lately, if ever.

“For the record,” Bakura spits out, before switching towards smugness and turning away from you with another one of his creepy grins and shifty-eyed expressions, “I AM over him. I’m just doing this to irritate him because I hate him.”

Your eye twitches at his transparent lie, but you don’t push it. “I see.”

It doesn’t take you long to reach your house after that. Instead of bidding you farewell like a normal person would, though, Bakura smirks and takes some sort of dramatic stance. His posture stands way too stiff and straight for it to be natural. The parting words he chooses for you are:

“Lovely day, right?” followed by exaggerated laughter.

You peek at him through the door, looking quite unamused. “Goodbye, Bakura.” And you don’t miss the way he switches to (somewhat murderously) staring at the ground with a distant stare after your dismissal either.

“Why are you hanging outside my house like a creep?!” you yell out through the window, eyes still blurry with sleepiness.

“I’m not very good at texting,” Bakura says. Again, he seems pleased with himself and his words despite them being embarrassing. Still, you wouldn’t assume this man to have even a shred of self-awareness, considering the way he conducts himself.

“Alright,” you tell him. “I’m going back to eat stale bread with shitty butter on it. You keep it pushing.”

“No.” Bakura raises his index finger at you suddenly. “We’re going out on a date. I hear you mortals call it brunch.”

Well, that sounds more like a demand than an invitation, first of all.

You put your hand over your mouth, trying to hide your amusement. Why did… he say it like that? All he can do is watch you with tears streaming down your face as you try to pretend you’re not having some kind of laughing fit.

“Are you paying?” you ask him finally.

“No,” Bakura replies. “Heh, heh, heh, I would never!”

“Lightning and curses, crud, foiled again, etc.”

The moment you set foot inside the specific location Bakura picked, he waves at someone in greeting while giggling ominously under his breath and your world shatters. Mainly because you’ve had enough of his acquaintances. Or maybe you’ve just had enough of him, even if you would have to begrudge and admit he’s entertaining.

Marik is a nice guy, you know? He seemed well-adjusted, at least for someone who willingly went out with Bakura.

It’s a boy and a girl, and after Bakura introduces you, you come to find out their names are Anzu and Yugi. Anzu appears confused at your presence and your lack of desire to run away screaming, meanwhile Yugi just says, “Awesome that you’ve found a friend, Bakura.”

“Sure. I’ve found an amazing friend,” he answers somewhat mockingly before sliding closer towards you, observing you in a manner which you can only describe as lecherous. God, this guy’s so annoying. Marik’s right.

You scoff. “Don’t look at me like that. Friend.”

“Sure, friend. I won’t.”

“I’m glad to hear that… friend.”

“Why do they keep calling each other ‘friend’ like that?” Yugi does his best attempt to whisper, but you can make out what he’s saying.

Then Anzu’s answer, as discreet as she seems to think she is being, comes out even louder. “I think Bakura’s insinuating they’re more than friends.”

Yugi gasps. “No way!”

“Do you think he’s holding this person hostage? Or maybe they were raised underground like Marik and don’t know any better?” she suggests.

“I don’t know. They don’t seem to be intimidated by him. Maybe we should be happy for them?”

“I hope you know me and my FRIEND can hear you,” Bakura grunts, turning the pair’s attention towards him again. Anzu leans away further into her seat when she catches sight of his scowl.

“Are we getting this brunch or not?” you interrupt, sounding annoyed. “I got dragged out of bed for this.”

Anzu and Yugi glance at each other for one prolonged moment until they agree it’s maybe a good idea to order something. The atmosphere remains tense, like neither of them particularly wants to be around him.

He makes it worse by trying to feed you croissants in front of everyone. With an evil glint in his eye, he hovers it in front of your mouth, though you don’t react like a romance movie protagonist would. Instead of parting your mouth and closing your eyes, you stare at him in confusion while he brings it closer to your lips, as if to tempt you.

“What do you w-”

Seizing the opportunity, Bakura shoves the whole thing. You choke on the croissant and think about how much you hate fucking French people. You also wonder if Bakura is French for doing this to you.

Anzu panics, scandalized that Bakura would go back to attempting murder in public. You hear a mix of her So much for changing! with Yugi’s Oh no! tangling into word diarrhea, but you’re too busy dying to pay them any mind. Your ‘friend’ watches the scene with glee.

After some struggle — and everyone suffering from Bystander Syndrome or something, because no one even pretends to care for your predicament — you manage to spit it out. There’s drool running down your chin, and you try not to gargle on your own saliva because getting strangled by a pastry is already embarrassing enough.

With a broad smile, Bakura picks up the croissant you conveniently threw up by the wet edge and dangles it in front of Yugi and Anzu now, as an offering. “Anyone gonna finish that?”

“No thanks,” Yugi denies politely, still gazing at all his companions guilelessly, even smiling at you and the crumbs of croissant near the corner of your mouth, eyes clouded while you try to recover your signs of life.

“Hell no,” Anzu denies before grabbing Yugi by the wrist and dragging him away from the crime scene (brunch). “Let’s get out of here. Bakura’s doing weird things again.”

…

There’s a short stalemate, but after it passes — when you’re well enough to speak — you shift towards Bakura, nose almost brushing his. “You know,” you start, curling up your lips, “when I said goodbye, that implied I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“Come on. Wasn’t it hilarious watching them be uncomfortable?”

Yes, it was a little funny, from what you could remember through the fog of your health hazard. But you’ll never tell him that.

The third time you go on a date with him, between the few times a week he makes it a routine to stand outside your house and make small talk through the window (“I read on an astrology website that Sagittarius is apparently the most evil zodiac sign.” “Did you know the occultism of the past is the science of the future?” and the like), you think it’s going to be normal. It’s not a surprise double date, and there are no motorcycles in sight, and you’re doing something as innocent as going to the arcade. It can’t go wrong, you don’t see it.

You’re beginning to think your problem isn’t that you’re a moron, or even your impulsivity. Maybe you’re naïve, or perhaps you secretly crave the same chaos he does.

Everything leading up to it — the key affair — is uneventful.

He uses some more of his small talk skills on you (“Recently I learned ducks become cannibals when they’re bored.” “Wouldn’t it be fucked up if I had a knife right now and you had nowhere to run?” “No, seriously, wouldn’t it be fucked up?” “Marik likes getting tickled behind his ear. It’s kind of off-putting.” “Actually, I use conditioner. I hope you don’t think anyone wakes up looking this good.” and the like) on the way there. You’re not sure if you’re enjoying it or not, but soon enough, that seems to become irrelevant.

It’s always the stupid fucking claw machine, ruining everything in your life… Your life which has been full of pain and claw machine violence.

You spot him before Bakura does, and he’s easy to recognize.

Yugi from the damned double date and his star-shaped hair with crazy colors in it. He’s hovering over that apparatus of doom, doing his own thing. Determined not to let them be aware of each other, your gaze shoots away from him immediately.

“I want to play a shooting game,” Bakura once again demands more than he requests, but you don’t mind his pick, so you don’t argue with him about it for once. And then he freezes. And then he lets out one of those annoying laughs he does, and your jaw ticks.

“Bakura, don’t bother Yugi. Please.”

“That’s clearly not Yugi, it’s Atem,” he tells you with a pout, like this is information you were supposed to know.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Okay, fine. Please don’t bother Atem.”

“I won’t bother him.” You’re too quick to feel relief when he claims that, though. He shoves his fists deep into the pockets of his trench coat, and somehow hanging around him so often has made you stop questioning that fashion choice. “We’re just going to have a bit of friendly fun.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your friendly fun is a little sadistic.”

“Only a little? You wound me,” he says with a faux saddened expression which makes you want to punt him.

He notices your frustration, and that brings a big smile to his face. Then he remembers he has a mission and strides up to this Atem fellow who looks just like Yugi. Mulling it over, you wonder if they’re twins. You also wonder why Bakura gets a kick out of tormenting men who don’t stand any taller than 5’3.

Considering you don’t want to get involved in this, you choose to stay on the sidelines and don’t follow him. Bakura and Atem seem to get into a heated discussion with many flamboyant gestures being thrown around, and at one point Bakura puffs his chest and points in your direction with a sense of superiority. Atem scrutinizes you with mild curiosity, but the moment ends quickly.

You can’t determine what they’re doing, but you think they’re competing over the claw machine. Except Atem wins a few plushies while Bakura wastes coin after coin only to receive nothing. He’s probably going to develop the same claw-machine-bankruptcy trauma as you.

Atem crosses his arms, and you assume this is when he’s going to declare his win, but Bakura doesn’t let it happen. No, the way he goes about interrupting his triumph is way overdramatic, in your opinion, because he punches through the protective glass with his bare hand. Then he starts throwing everything he grabs in there at you and mumbling something about conquest.

Conquest? Is he serious? Everyone saw his ass failing to win even one of these things.

Trying to get him out of his frenzy, you awake from your stupor while Atem watches this clownery with wide eyes and no commentary. “Bakura, stop,” you seethe, shoulders rising to your ears with tension. “Security will take you out of here and your hand is bleeding.”

“Well, take the fucking plushies then! I didn’t shred my skin just for you to throw them on the ground,” he counters, all but shoving his open wound in your face. It looks worse than you imagined.

“Fine, fine, I’ll take them if it’s that important to you,” you grunt in annoyance before collecting his trophies.

And you spend the rest of the day running away and in hiding. Later, when you’re home, you see he ended up on the news. They dub his case ‘Insane Man Throws Tantrum Over Claw Machine Scam’ and you’re mentioned as an ‘accomplice’ and Atem is apparently a ‘witness who refused to testify’.

Sometimes, you kind of hate your miserable existence.

___

This time, Bakura warns you he wants you to meet someone, which gives you hope it’ll go better. After all, the last three times you saw his acquaintances, you weren’t mentally prepared, but this time you’ve been listening to subliminal videos for positive energy and good luck for almost a week.

When he comes to pick you up, the first thing he does is ask you if you kept the plushies from the last date storyline, to which you say yes. You’re not sure what response you expect, but it’s not a squint of his eyes and a menacing grin before he tells you, “That’s good,” in the most intimidating voice possible.

“Yeah,” you trail off, unsure what to make of this.

On the way to his apartment, of course, you’re subjected to more small talk (“The arcade thing was nothing. They’ve never arrested me before.” “A few days ago I watched an avalanche happen in real time up close, and thought of you, and wondered if you’d survive it if you were there. But probably not.” and the like).

The interior isn’t the way you would’ve expected it to be. There are a few horror movie posters — of movies you don’t think are even that good — and a lot of nerdy merch. Your concerns that Bakura is some kind of role-player only grow stronger the more you examine his living space.

There’s also a boy who looks kind of like a smaller, rounder and friendlier version of Bakura, which makes you blink. Another pair of uncannily similar siblings?

Well, he looks nice. He has kind eyes, you think, unlike Bakura who always stares at you with a mix of wickedness and eyeliner. That must be who he wants you to meet, which is a kind of pleasant surprise.

Or at least that’s what you think before the introductions really start and you hear the details.

“So what you’re trying to say is,” you start with an eye twitch, “that this is your twin who’s also younger than you and has a different birthday-” he nods, “-and he calls you Bakura and you call him Bakura, even though you’re brothers, and Bakura isn’t his first name, but it’s your first name. Is that right?”

The… other Bakura is all smiles during this entire, nonsensical explanation.

“Precisely,” he snickers at you.

“Bakura, you have to think I’m lobotomized if you think I’ll believe this bullshit,” you spit, something icy lacing your tone.

“I’m not lying, but if it makes you feel any better, I think you could pass as a lobotomy victim.”

You consider telling him that doesn’t make you feel better at all, but you also figure it’s worthless. This has been a tremendous waste of time. The guy you’ve become attracted to — for some inexplicable reason that probably aligns with mental illness — really doesn’t have any redeeming qualities.

After taking a deep breath, without uttering a word, you tip your chair back until it creaks. And after a pause, you stand up and leave.

Some minutes of confusion without either of them reacting passes, until Ryou asks, “Was it something I said?”

Bakura snarls, “You didn’t say a thing.”

When you first go home, you cry a little, but you’re not sure why. It’s not all-out sobbing and there are no wails or anything — only a few tears streaming down your face. You’re also not heartbroken, or anything stupid like that.

If you have to be honest, you simply feel more like an idiot than usual, and that’s depressing. You thought maybe… finally it’d work out with someone, since you didn’t like any of your dates with anyone else since they were too boring, but now you realize you were a little out of your mind to think you could make it work with someone that dysfunctional. You figure he kept showing up solely to amuse himself.

Perhaps you had a “I can fix him” reaction, and you find it shameful now. To rectify this, you push all the plushies off your bed.

You can cut him off. You’ve always been good at that.

Maybe you’re not good at anything. You don’t know how you even got into this situation. Recounting the events leading up to this doesn’t help you feel any more sane than before.

First, you’d been moping around for a few days at work and dodging Bakura’s borderline illegal attempts to talk to you via trespassing until he understood you don’t want to see him for realsies and left you alone.

Second, you bought an entry ticket to go to an amusement park and pretend you’re eight years old again in a silly attempt to make yourself feel better.

Third, nearing afternoon, you got into line for one of the Ferris wheel rides. It was a long while of waiting, though, so you were one of the few people left for the last turn.

Fourth, in a stroke of unbelievable bad luck, the Ferris wheel stopped working. You’ve been stuck looking out the sliding doors’ windows to pass the time while they try to fix this thing. The sight isn’t even entertaining since your cabin was still near the ground when it malfunctioned.

When, from a distance, you saw a blob of white and… trench coat color in the horde below you; you felt a little sick to your stomach. Still, you figured it was a coincidence until.

Until.

You don’t know how else to say this, but you had to watch Bakura perform an impossible feat of athleticism while amusement park security and employees were screaming and, you assume, swearing at him for doing something so unsafe. It took him some time, but he looked confident in his abilities to pretend he’s King Kong, and he reached your cabin.

Now you’re watching him try to balance himself while gesturing for you to open the door since he’s too busy trying not to get steamrolled into the ground. You avert your gaze and consider it. It doesn’t sound like a good idea, yet you have nothing better to do. And with this conclusion, you do as he requested.

Once Bakura squeezes himself in, he does nothing productive. Crossing your arms, you glare at him while he poses stiffly in front of you, and you get the impression he’s not about to explain himself. Then again, when has he ever explained himself?

Finally, you bite the bullet. “What was so important for you to tell me, that you had to do this?” Your skin is boiling with anger.

“I have nothing important to say,” declares Bakura with a gesture of his hand. Your teeth grind against each other. “I just did it for the thrill.”

Now you want to throw him off of here, but you don’t twitch to do so. Instead, you snap at him. “Can’t you just go bother someone else?!”

“Obviously I can,” he replies in earnest, before realizing standing and sneering down at you is more awkward than it is intimidating. Then he sits on the seat opposite yours and smirks. “It’s just that you’re the one I like.”

“Well, I don’t see it.”

He lets out a ‘huh’ in genuine surprise, which serves to piss you off more. Like he’s been showing you how much he appreciates you all this time or something. You want to analyze his thought process in a lab. With dissection.

Yeah, lots of dissection.

“I’m not that dumb,” you say. “You’ve been using me to make these people you know or whoever they are feel uncomfortable for your own twisted joy.”

“Oh, come on. I didn’t mean anything bad by it after the first time.”

Slouching more, you narrow your eyes at him with a semblance of hatred.

“Okay, fine. I didn’t mean anything bad by it after the second time,” he corrects himself.

“What about that whole thing with Atem at the arcade? And the ridiculous story you told me? That dumb shit almost became my thirteenth reason.”

“Can’t you be a little grateful?” Bakura reproves, with an edge to his tone you don’t like the sound of. “I was giving you presents and trying to introduce you to my family and what-have-you. You’re supposed to value things like that.”

A little speechless by his audacity — as usual — you dig your fingers deep into your forehead, movements almost vicious, possibly trying to massage all memories of him out of your brain. It doesn’t work.

“Was it not entertaining? Be honest.”

“It was, but I’m not gonna settle for being toyed around with just because you happen to be funny twice a day,” you exclaim, dipping your fist into the material of your seat, then burying your face behind your hands. You’re concerned you might burst a blood vessel if this conversation progresses any further. You’re… You’re going to blow a fucking gasket.

“Wh- Listen.”

You peek at him through the cracks between your fingers. “What?”

“I don’t apologize to anyone, but you should forgive me, anyway.”

Cogs turn in your brain. At first you don’t want to do anything besides cuss at him, but mid-grimace you get an idea. “Tell me, then. What do you like about me?”

You admit, in a strange way, he seems hung up on you for a reason you can't understand.

You must be hallucinating now because Bakura’s face goes red a little, and his lips quiver their way out of the perpetual smirk they seem to be stuck in otherwise. “That’s embarrassing!” he denies, like you’re asking him to do something frivolous. Which you are, because you’re both overgrown toddlers.

“Too bad. Seems like you’re not being genuine to me.” You look at your nails, feigning disinterest.

“I like,” he begins, “that you don’t care and just go along with everything like it’s normal. Well, I admit I was being a little cruel at first, but I came to like you, anyway. I thought we were just having a good old time! Is that so wrong?” Bakura turns sarcastic near the end. As if you thought his passivity would last for long.

Is it possible that stealing, self-injury and trying to kill you are this man’s definition of a good old time? Judging by everything you know about him, you can’t say it’s implausible.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” you raise. “But I have conditions.”

Bakura rolls his eyes and pouts, you assume, since he doesn’t relish playing by other people’s rules. “What are they?”

“No motorcycles, or meeting literally anyone you know, or committing any crimes, or any other Bakuraesque shenanigan. I want it to be normal. The next time we hang out has to be normal.”

“I can work with that,” he grunts. Even if you’re killing him a little and these just so happen to be his favorite things, he can tone it down as long as you don’t feel you’re being used.

You two stare at each other in a rare moment of silence and serenity until he raises his eyebrows in contemplation.

“You know, if the next time we spend time together is after they fix the Ferris wheel, we’re going to have to go on the run again.”

#yami bakura x reader #bakura x reader #yugioh x reader #yugioh imagine #one shot

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the-lancasters · 1 year

Note

15 and 16!

Hello! 💐

15. what have been the highlights of creating your story?

In terms of the process its been cool to learn all sorts of news things in editing screenshots, learning how I like my screenshots to be framed etc. Learning how to use canva was cool and make fake magazine covers I feel brings more fun to the story 😊 Also learning reshade, creating the characters page which required me to figure out the coding etc was a challenge that made me feel accomplished when completed!

I've also enjoyed being part of a community who love sims as much as I do. I don't have many people in real life who are that interested so its nice that people were so welcoming when I started.

16. what about the process do you enjoy?

Hmmm I enjoy building the world of Illyria. Especially in the beginning thinking about how the monarchy would be set up, thinking about systems and figuring out this world that my characters inhabit.

I love and hate writing in equal measures lol. But when I feel like I've nailed it? Amazing.

I also love the dressing up part - I guess they sometimes really are my pixel barbies - I was obsessed with barbies growing up so I guess this is an extension!

#askthelancasters #thank you!!

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hospitalterrorizer · 5 months

Text

diary102

12/23-24/2023

saturday - sunday

listening to black eyes and

thinking about how much more i mostly like black dice. a much crazier white belt band at least. when they were in that phase at least. i don't dislike black eyes, i like the one who screams a lot more in that band, i like the song a pack of wolves a lot. but idk. this band has been a sticking point w/ the 00s wave of pxhc noise rock freaky faggy stuff i've always liked, especially since that time, they just never did it for me entirely, a little too measured feeling, which is crazy to say, when people know them as being such a crazy band. but idk, i remember even at the time when thinking of the especially no-wavey stuff, i'd just want to listen to coughs (the band (not black eyes' second record)). but the vocalist who does the high pitched girly voice is awesome, i can't lie, he adds a ton to the songs. but the blood brothers have that and are like 10x better. i appreciate how arty these guys are, it's interesting how this feels like a band where every single member is firing on every cylinder and playing exactly what they want, and what they want is like, what if public image ltd. were a little gayer, but somehow, that's isn't connecting to me perfectly. the two drummers thing is cool too but idk. it doesn't do a ton for me but it is very listenable, being less hardcore/fast and with more room to breathe, much more dance oriented stuff on it too, while still being very atonal, it's an interesting mid-point. their album after this one is like, total no-wave, not just inspired by but totally decoherent, atonal, and strange. i'm less interested in that one. it's interesting but like, not compelling totally.

the closer on their s/t is at least really good. 2 very good songs, on the record at least.

youtube

definitely their best song though. i've heard people say the high pitched screechy one sounds like devi from girls rituals and stuff, i can hear it.

youtube

here is another really good song by a different band, really sick dance-punk stuff.

i have not read today, i might still but idk. i did do a song today, and i think i'm really getting closer and closer to learning what i need to do in like, basically all the songs. all the ones that still feel fucked i need to go through and do some very simple stuff to, that simple stuff being low pass on the snares, low pass the kicks, reduce the decay of the kicks a bunch, and see if the synth guitar things are too saturated or not, and maybe low pass them, and also, replace one of the modules in psp infinistrip when i go to old ones, because one i have in cuts some highs in a weird way, a whole low pass on that i never noticed, it's very subtle but it's not what my tracks need, they need that really annoying high end at times i think.

i found something really fun on flickr today from this acc:

these were taken in laforet, a mall in harajuku/by harajuku (i've been there it's really cool t b h) in 08 i think:

i love the huge gaudy pixel art, and the colors a ton. i've been thinking about that kind of really excessive/dirty looking pixel art recently, it's a really sick looking thing, i kind of want to go there w/ what i do next for cover art, so i guess i'll try and figure out a way to get there that looks good. i'd probably have to keep stuff around sensible resolutions to upscale. i wonder what i'll do w/ the traced bugs i do for it.

also thinking about the pink/yellow together, i should try that out, maybe make the text a really extreme yellow. that would be fun.

also look at the little accessories they had for sale w/ that:

i want them very badly.

another thing that had me thinking about the gaudy pixel art stuff was that one promo game / music vid hybrid thing cactus made, one of the guys who made hotline miami, for the other guy who helped him make hotline miami eventually:

youtube

cactus games in general, i was really really into that whole thing in hs. i like how much now i can tell that he was biting from the fort thunder thing.

i have to put something bedazzled on the cover. i think. blocky rhinestones or something in a pattern. maybe i do that with certain hi res pix i got off of internet archive of jewels, downsize them after indexing them. or make tiny, index, make big, and then down again? who knowsss. maybe find multiple jewels for it too i have 2, that's fun i think, use the jewels to trace a shape, like a butterfly wing, for 2 of the wings around the circular bit in the center. i like that.

a higher res pic of the ad.

i'd like to find more weird shit like that, prints w/ gaudy pixel art, appropriated for fashion/something unrelated to games broadly.

anyway check these socks:

all of this brings to mind chiho aoshima now:

i really love the fire one, the interaction w/ a photograph and digital work overlaid is still really exciting to me, on a base level i guess, the threshold where two things intrude on the other. the sculpture is just very cute to me i think, i love though that it's a manifestation of the work nearby, the way the sort of fantasy / escapist otaku work leaves material consequences. that might be a reach, honestly, it at least gestures at that emotionally though i suppose.

anyways, i am tired-ish, more that i think i should be tired now but am not.

byebye!!!!!!!

#Youtube

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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years

Text

DEAR FISH FUCKERS, YOU’RE WELCOME

I’ve done what no other has done before (to my knowledge) and found the aging system for the Zora!

Ok so this started as simple research for this ask

See, I misread the phrasing of “best educated guess” to “research for 2 hours and come to a conclusive answer” so anyhow before I indulge you into the answers of the universe allow me to explain the research I’ve come across

[TL;DR at the bottom]

So firstly, we have to look at our conclusive evidence, from which we’ll base our theory/headcanon on, which can mainly be found in the Creating a Champion book, and some dialogue in game. I’ve compiled them all in these bullets here

Zora children are around 20ish years old [as said by dialogue with Finley in her love letter sidequest, I don’t have a screenshot but please just take my word for it]

150ish is considered middle-aged for Zora

Muzu is around 4 centuries old

Curved claws, weathered fins, and worn noses are signs of an older Zora that is more than 3 centuries(ish) old

Zora that were friends with Link must be around 150ish (not just 100), since you need to also account for the 20+ years of growing from a child stage, to the more normal sized form that you see them in the game, ergo, it’s that age plus the 100 years stasis that we determine the “middle age” of around 150

150 is the middle age, double that for the average old age of 300 years, but I say it could go to 400 too for additional reasons I’ll explain later with examples with my final age system. Anyhow, Muzu is around 400 if you take the 100 years for actually growing up from childhood, additional 100+ years of holding a different job as I doubt you just straight out hire a councilman without experience, and then another century for where he first started working in in the council, training Mipha, which would overlap with the period of the pre and post Great Calamity and Link’s return, meaning that’s 3 centuries plus 50ish years if we’re being generous with the overlap. This would help line up with the “for over a century” line as that doesn’t quite mean 2 centuries of working in the council, but Muzu is definitely getting up there to 4 centuries for his age alone

Now, I thought, this was gonna be my breakthrough, this screenshot here, depicting the traits of the older Zora. The elderly Zora are probably around 3 centuries old (since King Dorephan said they were young men around Mipha’s time, 150ish+100 gives us the range of 250-300), so I was like “Oh l can look at the size of their fins and noses and head/tail things and find a more efficient way to find their age” but nOPE. There is very little variation in that ballpark, the Zora either have exaggerated weathered noses or nice and shiny fins and no in between. The size of their head fins are roughly the same, with again, the only exaggerated differences being with the King and Sidon which doesn’t help at all because the Royal Zora already have a bunch of other difference such as their SIZE to name one.

I even went to the part about their curved toes, which initially would line up with some other Zora like Muzu

And let me tell you

I’ve looked at their toes

This is them from a child, a middle-aged, and an elderly. Color doesn’t matter and the curve? Well there’s

BARELY A DIFFERENCE

At least not nearly enough to find an efficient way to find age. Even Muzu’s final model didn’t have the exaggerated curvature as seen in the book.

I looked at their tail tail fins, (not the tail on their head, but their actual small rounded tail fin by their butts) because the book also mentioned how the grown Zora have more pronounced tail fins compared to the kids, but it was the same for the 150s and the 300s sooo not that helpful

So I kept digging. In the book I found that King Dorephan was crowned around 100 years before the game started. In addition I reread the 10 Zora stone monuments and found that he had killed a Guardian with his bare hands and thrown it off a cliff, which he still had a scar from.

[and yes I attempted to find his definitive age by seeing how long it takes for a scar to fade but I gave up cause Zora anatomy is too different to find a conclusive answer]

So I was like, “ok Dorephan had to have been around 150 when he came to the throne, then 50 years later the guardians are excavated giving way to the story about the guardian...” blah blah blahbla I even went to the supposed site where that guardian was, but it all didn’t really give me that much more info than what I already knew. I was researching ways to age the rock monuments from visuals alone which needless to say is pretty impossible, so I gave up on finding Dorephan’s age and I kept digging.

All I wanted was something physical that could properly give way to identifying a Zora’s age was that too much to ask???

Now this is where I had all but given up, it seems that my only answer was this vague note about how their fins move up when they grow

Which, to be fair, held true when I looked at the in-game character models myself, but I can’t exactly pixel measure these things for each Zora.

But THAT’S where the revelation came. I was so focused on finding inconsistencies within the elderly Zora, when I should have been looking at the young baby ones. See, this pictures, literally right next to the page about elderly Zora that I was analyzing for ages, is the key to it all

Now, I was thinking about the rings on a tree, and certain species of banded fish that grow and discard different markings as they grow older, I even counted the neck rings on certain Zora to see if they did that thing where they add a ring for each birthday like some African and Asian cultures do (look it up, that stuff’s pretty interesting!) and that is where it struck me.

Count how many luminescent markings are on their head

The males have 11, the females have 8 (on the one side, the other side has the same number of dots but for simplicity purposes I’m doing one side)

Now let’s count for these Zoras, who are middle aged-ish

The male has 10, the female has 7.

Now let’s look at the oldest Zora that we know of

3 dots above the eye, four on the tail. Muzu that motherfucker has 7 damn dots and I couldn’t be happier.

MY DUDES, GALS, AND PALS THIS IS IT, I’VE CHECKED AND DOUBLE CHECKED WITH NEARLY EVERY ZORA I COULD AND THE NUMBER OF LUMINESCENT MARKINGS ON THEIR HEAD CORRESPONDS WITH THE AMOUNT OF CENTURIES THEY’VE LIVED, LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY DOWN TO THE DOT

First we have Muzu, who as I’ve preciously stated is around 4 centuries old. 11-4? Oh, it’s seven, and that’s the amount of markings he has? OOoo??

How about this Zora Lady who recognized Link from 100 years ago?

Seven dots? 8-7 is 1 so shes just over one century which lines up timeline wise. You can even see how the third dot is slowing shrinking on her head so she’s coming up on 2 centuries

Ok how about the elders?

NINE. 11-9 is 2 centuries, with again, the dot by their head shrinking significantly showing how they’re getting up on 3 centuries.

The part I circled in green there is jewelry, not a marking, however this only goes further to prove my point. What better way to appear youthful than to have jewelry that makes it look like you have more markings than you have, made with luminous stone, no less.

This guy? Seggin? Super close to 4 centuries, those dots are fading away fast. Count your days old timer

Random dude that doesn’t recognize Link but is an new apprentice for sculpture making? 10 dots, a fresh 1 century pal, lookin young

I was a feral child running across the Domain screaming people’s ages in their face like a rude, naive, brat, I was elated to say the least. Especially since this system even works on the King himself

[plus one dot slightly behind the fin here...]

King Dorephan has 7 dots, he’s 400 years old. Which still lines up timeline wise, especially since he’s similar age with Muzu who he has stated is one of his most trusted advisors, beecaaaaaaaause of the years they’ve spent working together the timelines match uppppppp

This system works for almost all Zora, with 2 exceptions. Guards have helmets that cover their markings, so it’s impossible to tell. In addition, Prince Sidon, has sixteen lights on this hammerhead because he’s fancy like that (we already know he’s canonically 2ish centuries old anyhow from the DLC)

EDIT: I WAS WRONG THIS WORKS FOR SIDON TOO. The sixteen markings I was referring to was actually the amount of marking on each side of the head total, however if we look at the markings for only one side, like intended

Ten dots, Sidon’s over 100 years old. I’d say he’s closer to 150 given the timeline

Essentially, the most surefire way to find almost any Zora’s age is to identify a male or female Zora, count the number of lights on the side of their head/tail thing, then subtract from 11 if they’re a male, and from 8 for a female. The number left is how many centuries they’ve lived. You can check to see if their markings are shrinking and fading to get a sense if they’re coming up on the next century anytime soon. Comparing this with the oldest Zora we see in game, we can conclusively say that the Zora lifespan is around 3 to 4 centuries since no Zora has been seen with less than seven markings

Now go and make your Zora ocs with your appropriate number of lights. I’m gonna have a cookie

#botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #zora #zora botw #botw theory #botw headcanon #no fuck that this IS canon

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kerakitty · 3 years

Text

Hugo’s Age

There’s a lot of conflicting estimates when it comes to Hugo’s age, so I decided to take a whack at it using... SCIENCE!

I went full MatPat on this. I’m talking scholarly articles and pixel measurements! Let’s dive in!

The first thing I did was try to establish a frame of reference for character measurements. Since Lio’s design is heavily based on his VA Sterling K Brown, I figure it’s safe to say Lio is the same height: 6ft or 183cm. This will serve as the basis for all future height/length calculations.

Next I found a study on mandrill growth and development. It’s really dense and most of it is completely irrelevant, so here’s the part I actually used.

Now for the fun part: pixel measurements and math! (I am such a nerd)

So in this first frame, Lio clocks in at 1132px. Since only about half of him is in the shot, I doubled this to 2264px. The study measures the mandrills from the tip of the nose to the base of the tail. The perspective makes that impossible, so I went from Hugo’s hair point to roughly where his tail should be based on his position and how Lio’s holding him. This puts him at 515px.

With those measurements, Hugo is currently about 23% Lio’s size. 23% of 183cm is just over 42cm. And what do you know, there’s a juvenile male mandrill in our reference study that’s almost the exact same size! The mandrill in the study is 2 years old and is only a few centimeters shorter than Hugo. So Hugo is 2 years old! Right?

Well, a lot of people have placed him at about 6 months based on the number of formulas Lio and Song give him (124), but I don’t think that’s a reliable measure. We know the science burrow had limited test subjects. As eager as they were to make progress, experimenting on infants, especially newborns (newly cloned, w/e), would likely be considered too risky. Better to let them get to a more stable age before starting trials to minimize subject loss. All that considered, I’m going with the 2 years figure.

Now in this image Lio stands at 1090px, which I rounded up to 1100 to account for the sliver of his foot that’s outside the frame. Hugo measures in at 612px (hair point to tail base). Using the same method as the previous image, that puts Hugo at 102cm. According to our mandrill study... mandrills don’t get that big. Ever. The largest individual from the study was a 10 year old adult male who was less than 90cm, making Hugo somewhere in the area of 15-20% larger.

That makes sense, he just said his name so the mutagen has clearly already started to take effect and we know it greatly increases animal size. But it makes our chart useless. Luckily we still have formula numbers!

As he walks in the door at the beginning of this scene, Lio says they’re on formula #3853. In Sympathy for the Mandrill, Song says Hugo was on 3 formulas a day, so 3,853 iterations minus 126 for the ones given to him up to the end of day of the first scene, gives 3,727. At 3 a day, that’s 1,242 days or about 3 years and 5 months, putting him at about 5 and half years old.

Now’s where it gets tricky. We no longer have numbered formulas or comparative size to go by, so this is mostly speculation. Song and Lio hadn’t even started Project Kipo yet, so we have however long it took to come up with the project in the first place, the time it took to do research, plus the 9-10 months a human pregnancy lasts.

I have no idea how long Project Kipo took before Kipo was actually conceived, so I’m going to use something else: Hugo’s piano skills. Hugo freestyles a moderately complex piece just before Emilia walks in on him, so I’d guess he’s at level 5 or 6 by this site’s system. So using that same site’s calculator, we can figure out roughly how long it took him to reach that level. Lio’s a professional chemist, not musician or music teacher, so I put him as a Neighborhood Teacher. That caps the calculator at level 5. Hugo’s clearly a fast learner, and I suspect he was practicing as often as possible (including when he wasn’t really supposed to), so I maxed those out. According to the calculator, that’s about 2 years worth of study. Even if he was an absolute prodigy, that’s at least 12-18 months. I’m gonna be conservative and roll with the 2 year figure.

There was likely a decent gap between Hugo saying his name for the first time and starting to learn piano, so that makes him at least 7 1/2 years old at the time he was discovered, but probably closer to 8. Add a few months and the 13 year gap between the fall of the science burrow and the events of the plot, that puts him at around 21-22 years old.

In conclusion: Scarlemagne can legally drink and we need to stop portraying him as a moody teen. The math and science shows that he’s clearly a moody adult.

#kataow #kipo and the age of wonderbeasts #kipo headcanon #scarlemagne #hugo oak #i have too much time on my hands

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andoqin · 3 years

Text

Sisyphus: The Myth Ep 1- A Dissection

Okay, so I’ve had some time to process what I subjected myself to today, so I’ve decided to list everything in episode 1 that is just completely insane and an example of how Not To Do it.

I’m not an expert on Film Theory, but i’ve watched a shitton of media, plus I watch a lot of Youtube Video essays, so clearly I’m half

The episode starts off okay enough even if we get a weird exposition dump and “tense” parting scene between a father and daughter.

We start in what presumably is the time travel terminal where people stand around in pyjamas waiting to get through.

Okay, fairly interesting if unspectacular but I’m guessing that’s the point, this is now an industry. We zoom in and get this line that made me laugh, because well...

a) humans are living creatures and b) the amount of microbial organisms on human skin is estimated to be at hundreds of billions, or more. And this kind of time travel/teleportation is always hinky because well if you think about it, how does that even work without getting into The Fly territory. I’m willing to cut this drama some slack here and maybe it’s an awkward translation besides.

This gets... exceedingly long, but if you want a (too) in-depth summary of what happens in ep 1 and why it doesn’t work (for me) read on :D.

But then the real trouble starts, because PSH’s dad (I’m not bothering to learn the character names) says he’s not going with her and this is apparently very sudden. He then makes her repeat some lines that are supposed to create tension? Be exposition? Idk.

“Don’t trust anyone.”

“Don’t get involved with [CSW]’s character.”

PSH get’s teary eyed, because her dad is not coming with her, but the problem with scenes like these is: I don’t know either of them and do not have an emotional connection to their parting. Sure, it tells us something about PSH (she likes her dad and is worried about him) but I also don’t know how important her dad is going to be down the line. So when PSH asks about her mom and what if her mom dies and her dad just replies everyone dies at some point I’m a bit weirded out, but not to the point where I necessarily want to know more.

We then smashcut to PSH waking up in a world that’s more similar to ours and she does what her dad told her to do. She grabs her (very inconvenient) suitcase and runs along the tracks she woke up next to. We see that she is somewhat surprised by the running trains and also hardy enough to track on despite bleeding feet.

Alas, creepy people in gas-masks with guns and drones are waiting for her, so she runs even harder and after some near misses (they are able to track her by some sort of radiation meter) makes it to safety.

On top of a train car that the TWO DOZEN PEOPLE WITH GUNS AND DRONES are too stupid to check apparently. Clearly if she’s not under the train car, the detecting devices must be mistaken. So she just chills on top of the train car, sitting on her suitcase and those goons trundle off after 5 minutes presumably like they’re Assassin’s Creed Enemy NPCs.

Now we get introduced to CSW in the most insane scene i’ve ever witnessed. Honestly.

He is just ~chilling in 1st class in an airplane, filming a douche who is rude to the plane staff and epically owning him because he’s So Smart.

First of all, I don’t know what that has to do with soggy noodles(which the other asshole complained about), since by that measure the noodles should be *undercooked* (lower boiling point means longer cooking time after all) and secondly good lord I already hate this guy. He then proceeds to Epically Own (tm) with a convenient Forbes (sorry “Eorbes”) Magazine that he is on the cover of and flirts with the plane hostess.

So right off the bat, our impressions of CSW are supposed to be: He’s Cool (look at his hoodie and general bearing), he’s Smart (debatable), he’s nice to The Help (I guess???) stands up to bullies, and most importantly he’s fucking rich. I guess we’re also supposed to get the impression that he’s arrogant, maybe a bit of an asshole, but still cool and everything.

If this had been where the scene had stopped I would have rolled my eyes and then just continued on watching. But no, the writers thought: “Schooling some sexist rich asshole isn’t enough to show off how Cool and Smart and Cocky our main character is. Also he likes the ladies.” Look at him, he’s Tony Stark only from South Korea!!!

So shortly after he sits down, and we have the first moment with CSW where he connected with me emotionally (he sees the ghost of his dead brother and the way he says “because ... you’re dead.” and I thought OOOH this I can work with), the cockpit windshield is hit by what looks to be a suitcase (DUN DUN DUUUN) and something crashes into one of the engines, causing it to explode and catch fire.

The pilot is knocked out and unconscious and even the co-pilot loses consciousness (after conveniently unlocking the cockpit lock). CSW is the only one who goes to check on the pilots, having grabbed a fanny pack from his onboard luggage and quickly assessing the situation he revives the copilot and welds the hole in the windshield shut with some ducttape out of his fannypack and a plastic notepad. IT’S VERY EFFECTIVE! They did it in WW2, or so CSW tells us so you know it’s true.

I’m not sure that ‘s how plane windshields and duct tape and plastic notepad thingies work, but well the plane is still in freefall we have more important things to worry about :).

The electrics are all on the fritz, the copilot cannot get control of the plane and so CSW takes a seat in the captains chair (having foisted the captain out of it, not even he is so crass to sit on some unconscious dude’s lap i guess) and quickly calculates that they have 3 min and 30 secs for CSW to restart the electronics before the plane crashes. So he hands the co-pilot HIS PHONE with a timer on it for 3.5 minutes so the co-pilot can tell him when 30 seconds have passed. Instead of idk, contacting Air Traffic Control or ANYONE he just sits there and lets his big boy brain work.

After 30 seconds he has an idea, because he’s Tony Stark-ing it up like crazy now and can just figure out the electronics of a plane cockpit in 30 seconds, but guess what. HIS PHONE RINGS. AND HE ANSWERS IT, because he’s devil-may-care and “haha look at this, friend, i’m in the cockpit of a crashing plane we have 2 minutes before i’m dead.”

Said friend is calling him from the board meeting of CSWs company, bc of course the board is ~unhappy with CSWs antics (I gotta say I can’t blame them) and the friend doesn’t believe it at first, when he says he’s in a crashing plane, but checks on the news to see it’s true.

I ... I don’t think news work like that, we’ve gone 5 minutes from the initial troubles till now, there won’t be news reports all over the media yet. THEY’RE NOT EVEN TALKING TO AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL YET. Hell he even tells his friend to call 119 or the airport for help. I just... I’m very forgiving of a lot of things in a drama when it comes to writing. I’m willing to ignore obvious blindspots in a narrative, if I think the narrative is strong enough to support whatever it’s trying to say. At this point what could calling the police or the airport do, they have like 90 seconds left...

I don’t know what the writers are trying to tell me with this scene though? It’s so stupid, so unrealistic and CSW is so unpleasant and weird in it, because he tells his friend that he has to confess to taking out the friend’s college girlfriend on a date while they were still together.

Well since the drama is longer than one ep, they do make it out alive, but the fact that the co-pilot managed to safely LAND the plane (which is insane to me) gets skipped over and we just get news snippets that herald CSW as a hero who singlehandedly saved the planes passengers.

We then get to see him in his natural habitat “convalescing” in his giant apartment where he is being showered with gifts by worshippers basically. He continues to be an asshole, but his friend tells him, one more stunt and the board will kick him.

The board will kick the guy who just saved a plane full of lives????? Yeah right, I’m sorry but that’s just fucking stupid from the writers. Why would anyone do that, even if the board hates him, kicking him now, when he’s literally a national hero would be the worst thing they could do for the stock prices. It’s only here so the writers can shoehorn in that CSW is close to OD-ing on pharmaceuticals and that the board wants to monitor his therapy and they have a way of “forcing” him to comply.

Also he has what looks to be a dental x-ray machine next to his bed. Someone correct me if I’m wrong but lol what’s up with these set design choices.

His friend tells him to go to fucking therapy or else and the next scene he is actually at a therapist.

Who’s his ex-girlfriend (they have a whole tangent about that).

Who writes a report about his therapy to the board.

But hey at least the therapy gets us a flashback of the last time he saw his brother. Big surprise he was an asshole to him as well, so no wonder he’s traumatised by that.

After therapy he *conveniently* runs into the co-pilot who’s incoherent and beaten up and hands CSW a usb-drive. It contains video of the cockpit on the day of the crash and it’s obvious what struck the plane was a suitcase and what crashed into the engine was a human being (DUN DUN DUUUUUUN maybe someone forgot to convert feet to meters when setting up the time travel thingamabob).

As he looks at the (very pixelated) figure of the person about to crash into the engine, he suddenly sees his brother’s face and honestly this scene just made me laugh? I know it’s supposed to be haunting and more evidence of CSW’s deep trauma, but I guess at this point my brain was just completely checked out.

And that’s what we end our introductory phase of CSW. What the fuck was that plane thing even for. To show us he’s callous in the face of danger? He’s an asshole even when he’s about to die, so he’s got a long way to go? He’s haunted by the spectre of his dead brother and the guilt he feels for not being there when he died? I got a lot of that before we had the insane Plane Adventure!!! There are literally millions of ways they could have gotten this information to the viewers and not made an absurd spectacle of the plot that means that everything afterwards just feels lame, because you already had the insanity that was this plane ride, so it can only go down tension wise.

Now we’re back to PSH, but honestly her parts are kinda boring and bog-standard “UwU I’m unfamiliar with this way of life, I don’t even know how to eat a banana (that looks *nothing* like a banana btw), so I just eat it peel and root and all. Also I’m from the Future, that means I obviously know todays LOTTERY NUMBERS.”

I know kdramas like clichés and tropes, I like them too, that’s why I watch kdramas, but you gotta give me a bit more if you want me to at least invest in PSH, because I’m sure as hell not invested in CSW.

She gets taken in by some guy, because we can’t have her homeless all the time, and she needs someone to explain this world to her and also how to eat bananas properly and she opens her suitcase. It’s got both future-tech-y looking stuff and a pink notepad that seems to hold specific information on what needs to happen on certain days.

She also makes this expression and I don’t know if we’re supposed to laugh because she’s not threatening or if we’re supposed to laugh because she’s not threatening, but we know she’s gonna kick ass later, haha you just thought she was harmless. I gotta say it’s the former for me.

Rarrr fierce Elite Warrior PSH coming to get you.

She tries to get in touch with CSW, already breaking one of her dad’s three commandments. Oh, I guess staying with this guy breaks the other two. Welp, so much for that then. What even was the point of that first scene...

Anyway she tries to get in touch with CSW but ofc you cant just call the richest person ever (Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos would get very angry voicemails from me if that were the case), but she manages to get his voicemail. Or a voicemail he spoke for. But oh no, she is just Not Familiar with this world and keeps having a conversation with the voicemail as if it’s CSW himself.

CSW who has scienced his way to finding the suitcase that crashed the plane and as she begs his voicemail not to open the suitcase, of course he opens it and gasp the combination for the suitcase lock is his birthday!!! Something his brother used to do!!!

MAYBE THAT MAN WAS HIS BROTHER AFTER ALL!!!! OH NO!!

But thank fuck the episode is over now.

VERDICT:

Just no. Don’t do this. The latter half of the show is more standard fare, but the first 25 minutes destroy any capability of this show making sense. I can see what the writers are trying to do, but it’s so hamfisted and badly written I’m just not willing to go along.

If you want a show that also has a fantasy action aspect (and this show is all fantasy no matter how much it tries to science it up), watch LUCA instead. That show at least knows how to set a tone, how to get us invested in the characters and does exposition in a way that doesn’t feel obtrusive.

#sisyphus: the myth #sisyphus #I RANT #FOR WAY TOO LONG #kdrama

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love-dreams · 3 years

Text

pairing: hoshi x fem!reader

content: based off of the netflix show, the queen’s gambit, with different character names (check the masterlist!) - please note the original time period means lots of racism and sexism; adoption; drug misuse; anxiety and stress

wc: 5,897

note: this took awhile to finish, but i have a feeling that this will turn out to be a trilogy! hoshi and y/n finally are crossing paths next chapter :)) please let me know if you’d like to be tagged! HAPPY NEW YEARS YALL

recap: (Y/N) is a genius prodigy chess player who learned from Mr. Jihoon Lee, the orphanage janitor. The orphanage, Methuen, feeds the girls tranquilizers that help (Y/N) hallucinate chess moves. This allows her to “play inside her head.” At the end of the last chapter, (Y/N) had broken into the cafeteria’s storage and overdosed on drugs.

the queen’s gambit masterlist: 1 2

Soapy water dripped off the mop’s wool locks to the cold, cement floor, leaving a bubbly wet trail on the floor. You cautiously avoided the reflected areas.

“Mr. Lee?” you meekly greeted. Your voice was low and hesitant as you inched toward his stout, hunched over figure. He kept on mopping, seemingly paying no attention to you. “I can’t play chess anymore. Kim said so.”

He paused for a moment, turning his head toward her. His cold eyes raked over your figure, but Mr. Lee still didn’t respond, choosing instead to return his attention back to cleaning the floor.

Your chest tightened in remorse from your actions, but eventually, you took the hint and walked back to the moving train of students, disappearing into the masses.

That would be the last time you and Mr. Lee ever spoke.

Soonyoung remembered when he first played against the country’s champion.

His name was Yoon Jeonghan.

At the time, Soonyoung was still in high school, and Jeonghan was twice his age. He still looked as young as Soonyoung did, though, he noted sullenly. His younger step-brother, Chan, idolized Jeonghan, and for good measure. He was the undefeated champion for three consecutive years.

They played at the eye of a hurricane of onlookers. Reporters weren’t allowed to take photos, in fear of disturbing the duo chess players, but Soonyoung wouldn’t have heard the shutters snapping anyway.

The rush of blood to his head would have drowned out anything else.

The first time Soonyoung played Jeonghan, he lost. Quite terribly, he remembers, but Chan assures him it was a close game.

All he could remember was Jeonghan’s poise. His confidence. It radiated from him and into the fingers that moved his pieces. His intellect was far superior to Soonyoung’s at the time, honed by years of experience and studying. To Soonyoung, it felt like playing in front of a god, someone who was on a completely different level.

It was awe-inspiring.

Soonyoung played him two more times in two years. And then he won him in the third.

In the middle of the day, seemingly out of nowhere, Mr. Jun interrupted your class, calling for you to follow him. Everyone in the classroom, including the teacher, stared at you expectantly.

It’s not like you had any other choice.

Your heart rate gathered speed as Mr. Jun motioned for you at the doorway of the office. You cautiously ambled through the narrow hallway until you caught sight of two other people. One male, and one female.

“Mr. and Mrs. Park, this is (Y/N)!” You had never heard the Headmaster’s voice sound so friendly. You almost reeled back in shock at her change in tone and demeanor. What a joke... you thought darkly.

The two adults turned to face her. “Yes, (Y/N) is thirteen years old,” Headmaster Kim paused for affirmation glaring straight into your eyes.

“Actually, I’m fiftee-” you trailed off, seeing the expression on Kim’s face. You cleared your throat to cough over your previous sentence, straightening up your back. “Yes, I’m thirteen. I’m thirteen years old.”

Kim smiled and the foreign scene caused you to shiver. If you found Headmaster Kim’s punishments scary before, you found her act of friendliness simply unnerving. “(Y/N) is at the top of her class in English, reading, and geography. She also assists with the local chapel.” You nodded along. “(Y/N) truly is the model Methuen girl.”

You let your face be effortlessly played by your puppet master, painting on an innocent smile and crossing your hands formally. The woman, Mrs. Park, had a bright smile on her face that made you feel automatically welcomed and safe. The man, on the other hand, refused to even look at you. He had a newspaper outstretched in front of him, and his aura was just as cold as Headmaster Kim’s.

The two opposites puzzled you, but you tried to keep your thoughts from showing on your face. You let your eyes take small peeks down at the couple as you continued to stand trough their talking.

After what seemed like hours of negotiations and paperwork being passed from one person to another, Headmaster Kim finally let you go. You waited patiently outside the office, saying small greetings to the students passing you in the hallway. Just as you were trying to figure out what to make of the couple, the Headmaster, followed by the duo exited the office.

You watched as they walked straight through the doors and to the car parked on the driveway in astonishment before noticing the tall figure walking toward her.

Suddenly, you realized that the hall outside the cafeteria was deserted, except for you. Everyone else was inside, enjoying themselves.

Headmaster Kim bent down slightly so her face was closer to yours. You withheld the urge to flee on sight and retch in front of her.

“You should go pack.”

“You know it’s highly irregular for someone to be armed with a knife regularly, you know?”

“I have it for self-defense.”

“Against who?”

“Anyone.”

“You’re crazy, Soons. That’s not a legitimate answer.”

He shrugged. “I like control, like on the chess board. Having this knife with me is part of that, I guess.”

“So you’re a control freak.”

Soonyoung laughed, touching your shoulder gently. “I guess I am.”

That night was the same as all the ones before it. The sky was dark and so was the room. It felt too quiet to you, like there was an absence of something. The other Methuen girls hadn’t finished with class yet, but Kim had dismissed you early from school, not that you were complaining about that.

It might’ve been the one nice thing she’d done for you.

You found Ruth in her adjacent bed, lying on her side. From the way she was acting, you’d guess that she hadn’t gone to class all day.

You set your open suitcase on the wrinkled bed sheets and started to fold all of your clothes with moderate care. You packed your shirts, your skirts, and of course, your chess books. The latter being the most important possession you ever owned.

You ran a fingertip down the old spine of the book lovingly, creasing over any parts that were starting to jut out. You did this to every single book, running your own hands over the letters imprinted onto the leather

Slowly, the stack of books shrank until one last book was sitting on your bed. Your heart erupted into anxiety as you started to shuffle through your stacked clothes, opening all the drawers in the small bedside table.

“Have you seen my book?” you asked impatiently, panic slowly dripping into your voice.

Ruth cracked open one brown, chocolate eye, huffing as she pushed herself up. “Which book, cracker? You’ve got a dozen of ‘em.”

Your fists clenched in stress. “Modern Chess Openings, have you seen it?” you clipped, short and curt.

“Now don’t you go accusing me,” Ruth snipped back in annoyance. “I ain’t got any use for no book like that.” You sighed in defeat, letting your hands go loose. “Plus,” Ruth added. “You don’t need a book to play anyway.”

Your eyes dropped in shame to the ground, diverting your gaze. Your heart felt heavy all of a sudden: guilty. You hesitantly seated yourself beside Ruth’s still figure, letting your hand rest on top of your friend’s hip.

“You know, I’m sorry.”

Ruth scoffed, but you could hear the raw huskiness of her voice. “Sorry for what?”

“That nobody wanted to adopt you,” you replied.

Your friend didn’t respond for a few moments.

“No one wants to adopt a black kid as old as me anyway,” Ruth finally said.

“If you ever have kids, do you think they’d have to learn chess?”

“Well, I already have a kid and he plays just fine! Not as good as me, I guess, but he’s alright.”

Chan looked over his hamburger, cheeks slightly rounded as he chewed. “Wait, who is it?”

“I think you mean ‘who is he,’ right?”

Chan rolled his eyes and swallowed. “Yes.”

Soonyoung winked and rummaged through his coat pocket. “I think I have a picture of him somewhere...”

Chan craned his neck and body to see the small, pixelated picture on his cell phone.

“Oh, screw you, Soons. I’m not a damn kid.”

Soonyoung laughed, letting his voice roll over his vocal chords. He winked once more for good measure, feeling very pleased over Chan’s reaction.

“That, you are, kid brother.”

It was your first time riding in a car since you were nine years old, driving to the high school to play your first tournament of chess. You couldn’t help your fascination with the scenery outside of the black gates. Green strips of landscape flew by in a blur and color exploded in your retinas.

It was breathtakingly beautiful. So much so that you didn’t even have the capacity to respond to it.

As the car entered the suburban neighborhood, you took time to study each individual house’s features: the window shapes, door colors, everything. You saw kids on front porches with their parents, people were everywhere. Unlike Methuen, the women wore colorful skirts and they were all different.

When Mr. Park finally pulled up to the driveway, the whole situation’s magnitude hadn’t settled on your shoulders yet. Mrs. Park exited the car first, closing the door behind her and opening the door for you. She’s nice to do that for you, you thought.

You followed Mrs. Park into the house, eyes scanning everything around you in pure fascination.

It was when you were in the front living room of the house that you felt out of place with your dreary Methuen uniform. The windows were decorated with lace drapes so only a few bars of golden sunlight were shining on a muted primary rug that sat underneath a grand piano.

“Well? Home sweet home,” said Mrs. Park breathlessly. She did a small twirl in the living room with her arms outstretched. You felt the small inklings of a smile.

Mr. Park cleared his throat behind you, startling you. Sensing his prickly displeasure, you moved aside hurriedly as the man walked past both women to a velvet maroon arm-chair.

Jimin was a practical man, you could tell. He wore glasses when reading and a tie with his suit. He never seemed to take particular interest in being welcoming or loving to you unlike Chaeyoung. He seemed cold and disconnected to his wife and you and his stares were often condescending. You didn’t fear Jimin like Headmaster Kim, but you definitely didn’t like him as much as Chaeyoung.

“Ah,” Mrs. Park nodded. She clapped her hands together. “(Y/N), we should get you acquainted with your room!”

Chaeyoung quickly whisked you away from the living room, guiding you up the carpeted stairs. You tentatively grabbed your suitcase, sending one last curious glance at Jimin before following Chaeyoung upstairs.

Upstairs had more than one bedroom, much to your amazement. Methuen never had walls in between bedrooms. Chaeyoung kept walking down the hallway until stopping at the very last open doorway.

She gestured toward the inside as you moved to stand by her side. Your neck craned as you peered over the edge of the door frame.

“You have no idea how hard it is to find good chestnut furniture,” commented Mrs. Park from the doorway.

You took small, shy steps into the interior of the room. Then, you whipped around to face Mrs. Park. “Is this.. Is this all for me?��

“Why of course!” Chaeyoung replied. “I should leave you alone for now. If you need any help, just call!”

Your heart swelled as she stood in the bedroom alone. The room was entirely covered in pink. Your bed covers were pink and on top, there was a light pink veil covering it. The carpets were fluffy salmon-colored. You set her suitcase down near the doorway before flinging your body onto the bed, bouncing upward slightly.

You laughed in amazement, scrunching your eyes in disbelief. You had a family, you had her own room. It was like life was repaying every loss you ever had, like something had finally gone your way.

“You’re leaving for two weeks?”

Chaeyoung’s voice woke you up from your sleep. You looked out the window to see the married couple out on the driveway. Chaeyoung seemed to just have gotten up as well, dressed only in her nightgown and dyed hair still unruly. Jimin was in his normal attire and it seemed like they were in some sort of argument. You decided to eavesdrop a little, pressing your face to the glass pane.

“Yes. I’ve got some business in the Midwest, apparently. I could be there for weeks. Maybe a month.” Jimin got into the car promptly, shutting the door in front of Chaeyoung.

“Do you have to take the car?” Chaeyoung desperately asked.

“How the hell would I get anywhere without a car? You’re a terrible driver anyway.”

“You could get a rental,” she suggested.

“I’m taking the car with me, Chaeyoung.” He started the engine. “Remember what the doctor said?” His head turned to look his wife up and down. “Some exercise will do you good.”

Then, the engine rumbled to life, carrying the car and Mr. Park away from the house. Mrs. Park physically sighed before slipping out of your sight.

As you got dressed, there was a different sound replacing the cold voice of Mr. Park: the melancholy melody of an instrument. You let your feet drop on each stair step, your ears savoring the beautiful tune. A head of dyed hair appeared over the staircase railing and the piano. You held your breath, sitting down gently on the carpeted stairs.

“Stop staring over there, you’re making me nervous.”

Chaeyoung’s voice cut through the piano’s noise. You broke out of your trance. You quickly walked down the stairs and into the living room normally.

“You play beautifully.”

Chaeyoung’s lips upturned for a moment, but dropped soon after. The smile did not reach her eyes. Instead, it seemed broken and hollow, a deep sadness filling the woman.

“I used to want to become a professional pianist.” Her fingers twitched into movement and music flowed from the belly of the piano. “But I had terrible stage fright, not the best for an aspiring professional,” she laughed dryly. You stood stationery, transfixed with Alma. “And then I got pregnant.”

“You had a child?” You blurted out, too shocked to even think through your question.

Chaeyoung’s finger slipped and dissonance jarred the entire piece into chaos. This time, she did not continue. Her eyes were downcast and her misery spread throughout the room. “We did,” she answered.

You felt your throat close up. Maybe life just had a grudge with you after all. There was obviously conflict between Chaeyoung and Jimin and now you were in the middle of it.

Suddenly, Chaeyoung lifted herself and the same melancholy smile was directed toward you. “Would you like some tuna casserole? We have some left over.”

You shook her head, adamantly. The recent tsunami of new information was making you nauseous. “I’m good.”

“Do you want me to walk you to school?” she tried again.

“I think I’ll be alright,” you answered curtly. Chaeyoung sighed but didn’t force herself upon you. You had never been the most sociable person and you had no intention of creating more trouble for yourself.

The school was a short walk away from home. Along the way there, the few straggler students walking on the sidewalk grew into an entire flock. Noise erupted from the open doors of the school building and you vaguely felt the hints of deja vu from her first encounter with outside students.

During your free block, you got to work inspecting the school’s library.

Your head turned left and right while watching some of the other students hurrying around in the room. There were sounds of giggling laughter between shelves and the light rustling of paper pages. Then, your attention turned toward the librarian in front of you.

“Do you have any books on chess?” you rushed out, uncomfortable in the swarms of people.

She looked up at you through her rounded glasses. The librarian slowly took them off to study you. “Sorry?”

You tapped your foot impatiently, feeling all sorts of embarrassed and shy. “Books on chess.”

“I don’t believe we do,” she pondered. “Oh! But if we do have any, they’ll be at the back shelf over there.” Your body instinctively started to move toward the direction she pointed, desperate to get out of this awkward situation. “There should be some books on Xu Minghao too.”

That name caught your ear.

“Who’s that?”

The librarian smiled, but looked at you quizzically. “Why he’s a grandmaster, of course.”

“What’s a grandmaster?”

“A very, very good chess player.”

“(Y/N), would you be a dear and run down to the local pharmacy? I need to fulfill a prescription.”

You automatically stood up from your bed and walked a few steps to the adjacent bedroom. Chaeyoung looked awful with her dry, dirty hair and blotchy red features.

She sniffled a little bit before reaching to her bedside table. “Here’s a note.”

Her hands were weak and skin and fat clung to the bones of her arm. You nodded with sympathy and carefully slipped the note from in between Chaeyoung’s frail fingers.

You left the Park house shortly, hurrying down the street toward the town center. There were a few people there along with cars bustling down the road. Spotting the pharmacy’s sign over the store, you quickly crossed the street towards it. The door bell jingled as you stepped into the store.

Catching the owner’s attention, you slid the prescription note over the counter, tapping your fingers on the wood as he disappeared behind a shelf.

You then took the liberty to look around the store while he was gone. You rotated your body until you found something on the side of the brick wall.

“TIMES: CHESS MASTERS”

“And this is it,” he muttered. A small pill bottle was sitting on top of the wooden counter. You grabbed it, pocketing it in your dress. Your eyes were still fixated on the magazine.

Reaching to grab it, a gruff voice suddenly stopped you.

“Hey.” It was the store owner. “Buying only,” he said, pointing to the sign above the magazine holders. Then, he turned his back onto you.

You nodded and on your way out, reached for a newspaper beside the magazine. You dropped a few coins onto the counter and strode with long confident paces.

The red outline of the magazine peeked from the pages of the newspaper.

“I think I might start giving you allowance.”

“Hm?” You murmured over the pages of the Times magazine.

“An allowance,” Chaeyoung repeated. “It’s good for young girls like you to start learning how to manage your finances.”

You blinked up at her. “Okay.” You rose from your spot and hurried up the staircase. “Can I go buy a chess board then? I think I might want to attend a tournament this weekend and I need to practice.”

Chaeyoung scrunched her brow, she was displeased. “I don’t want to discourage you from social events, but don’t you think there are better opportunities for girls like you to meet new friends? Like dance classes or something,” she suggested.

You sighed and looked down at Mrs. Park from the railing. “What did you do to socialize when you were my age?”

You didn’t wait for her response and ran into your room. Hope fluttered in your chest as you opened the magazine again.

“KENTUCKY CHAMPIONSHIP THIS WEEKEND. 10$ ADMISSION FEE.”

“I’ll be there,” you murmured to yourself. You rolled over onto your back to stare at the two green speckled pills on your bedside table. You swallowed them and waited.

And waited.

Nothing was happening.

Finally, you jumped up on your bed and ripped off the pink canopy. Huffing in frustration, you threw the remaining, scratchy fabric onto the ground. You let your head rest on your pillow as transcendence settled over your body.

Familiar shapes soon began to fade into reality onto the ceiling.

The address on the magazine was a high school. People were bustling everywhere in the forum. You quickly found the registration table and walked towards it, careful not to bump into anyone along the way.

Two young-looking men were conversing when you walked up.

“Excuse me,” you said.

They looked up at you. When they noticed your gender, they immediately smirked, clearly sleazy about a woman being in front of them. One of them leaned forward towards you.

“Lost your way, lady?”

You internally groaned at his condescending tone, wanting nothing but to walk straight out of the building. You let out a breath of annoyance.

“I’m here for the chess tournament?”

The two males glance at each other.

“Well, do you have a ranking?”

This time, the other man spoke. They looked like twins with their nearly identical outfits and slicked back, brown hair.

You shook your head. “This is the first tournament I’ve joined.”

Twin #1 scoffed and shook his head. “Then you’ll join the beginners bracket.”

What?

“But I’m not a beginner.”

Twin #2 chimed in, his voice firm and unyielding. “Doesn’t matter, no ranking means you’re start as a beginner.”

Cooling yourself down, you started to think. “How long does it take for me to get a ranking?” you inquired.

“3-6 months,” Twin #2 answered.

Then, the perfect idea settled into your head. You started rummaging through your bag for the spare change.

“Put me in the open then.”

“What?” sputtered Twin #1. “Are you crazy? There are professional players in that open. Lee Chan is going to be playing.”

“Who’s Lee Chan?” You ignored them and finally fished out the ten dollar bill.

The both looked at each other again, sharing some kind of secret message in between them.

Twin #1 sighed. “Do you have a clock?”

A clock?

“No,” you answered faithfully.

“We have a clock sharing system. If you don’t have a clock, your partner will have one for you.”

You nodded in response, still confused about what a clock was supposed to be doing in chess.

Twin #2 slid a sheet of paper to you. “Here’s your first round.”

You took it and promptly left the desk, feeling relieved that it was over.

“So.. do they usually put the girls together like this?”

“Huh?”

There was another girl sitting in front of you. The only one, as far as you could tell. She had pretty curled brown hair and she introduced herself as Oh Seunghee.

“I don’t know, are they supposed to put the girls together like this?”

You looked around the empty gym filled with tables of chess players. You were seated right next to the coffee station.

“Well, they’re not supposed to,” she responded.

Seunghee had an innocent smile and pretty, dainty fingers.

“The chessboard is a battlefield,” Mr. Lee’s words rang through your head. “Naivety gets you killed.”

You nodded and looked over at the wooden framed clock to your right. “So, how does that work?”

“Oh, right!” Seunghee clapped her hands together excitedly. “So, once you make a move, I hit the button up there and your time starts to count down. Once the red flag falls, your time is up and you lose.”

“Seems simple,” you murmured. “And this thing?” You tapped the sheet of paper you got from the registration desk.

“To track your moves. Afterwards, you circle the winner.”

You nodded and picked up the pencil to write your name in. “So I can start your clock now, right?”

Seunghee waved her hands, “Go ahead!”

You carefully clicked the metal button down, testing it. Immediately, the clock started ticking off the seconds.

Seunghee moved her pawn forward and leaned on her clasped hands. Her big brown eyes stared at you with a hint of mischief. You nodded awkwardly at her gawking.

“Um, aren’t you supposed to hit the clock?”

“Oh, yes! Sorry. It’s just.. I’ve never played against a girl before.”

Your steps up were fast, the adrenaline rush from the chess game creating the perfect haze for you. You missed this.

When you got to the top, you turned a sharp corner to the registration desk. The two sleazy men were still there.

“What do I do with this?”

You waved around the heavy card paper for dramatics.

The twins looked around together.

“That fast?”

“Mhm.” You didn’t felt the need to verbally respond to the sleazeballs.

“Just put it into the basket,” they sighed.

Having nothing to do, you went back downstairs. Your eyes scanned over the empty tables and chairs that held only a few scarce players, a complete change from a couple minutes ago.

Noticing a crowd, you walked closer towards a divider that had a sign reading, “QUIET PLEASE.”

You weaved your way through sweaty backs and chests until you could somewhat make out what was in the middle of all the commotion.

A chess game.

In the middle was a table with two chairs and two players. Two male players, you noted. The setting seemed to be no different than any of the other games that played around you, making you wonder why this one attracted such a crowd.

You nudged someone close to you. “Who are those people?”

The man looked down at you in amusement mixed in with surprise. “That’s Lee Chan, the current state championship holder. And that’s Park Jisung, a rising chess player. Jisung’s the best of his town and his university.”

You nodded. Lee Chan.. you had heard that name before. At the registration desk.

“Is he a grandmaster?” you pointed abruptly.

Chan’s eyes narrowed at you. “Sorry, could you quiet down over there?”

You flushed with embarrassment and gauged the man’s reaction as well. He had a small small on his face when he glanced down at you as well.

He leaned closer to you to whisper, ““Not yet. He’s working towards it though.”

“I want to play against him.”

“Not everyone can play him. You need to win all of your rounds and so does he.”

You remembered the book you’d checked out from the library. Then you remembered the Times magazine and Mr. Choi. And of course, Mr. Lee.

A grandmaster...

“You want to play Lee Chan?”

The twins had names: Hyunjin and Jinyuh. They reminded you of the high school players you beat during your time of at the orphanage.

You nodded, not understanding why Jinyuh seemed so flabbergasted. “Is there anything wrong?”

Hyunjin scoffed, “You know you’d have to win all of your rounds in order to do that right?”

You remained nonchalant. “And I will.”

“No you won’t,” Jinyuh cut in. “You’d have to go through Joshua!”

“Forget Joshua,” Hyunjin chuckled humorlessly. “Your next round is Seungkwan and he’s way underestimated. He’s the captain of his college chess team and his team hasn’t lost a single tournament this year!”

You let out a sigh and grabbed the score card, leaving the twins speechless. Your pace was brisk as you walked toward the designated table for your round. Being doubted constantly was starting to get onto your nerves.

You tapped your fingers impatiently on the wooden table before a familiar face made you halt your motion.

“So I guess I’m your next round.”

It was the man from before. The one who was with you when Lee Chan was playing. This was Seungkwan?

“Um, yeah, I guess so,” you stuttered out.

His smile was just as mischievous as before, however, this time it had a streak of competitiveness.

Seungkwan adjusted his cuff sleeves and settled into his chair. His brief case rested next to him, leaning against the legs of his chair.

He motioned for you to start his clock and you did. Leaning over slightly to push the rusty metal button down.

The game was on.

The clock was still ticking down the time. There were roughly twenty tables set out around you, all of which were holding chess games.

You didn’t waste time trying to count the tables exactly though. The man in front of you was providing enough entertainment.

Seungkwan’s brows furrowed as he studied the board, cautiously making a move and hitting the clock.

Your hand moved automatically, pushing a chess piece toward its designated position in your mind. Seungkwan huffed. You grinned.

“Jesus, (Y/N), you’re humiliating my rook.”

“He won’t have to suffer for much longer,” you murmured.

Seungkwan’s eyebrow arched up as if coaxing you to tell him your strategy. You shook your head and motioned for him to return his move.

He sighed and slowly, slowly, tipped the white crown of his king to the board.

“Alright, you got me there, (Y/N). I lose.”

You blinked. He forfeited?

All of a sudden, a rush of deja vu hit you. You were reminded of one of the first games you had played with Mr. Lee. How ironic, you thought. Now I’m on the other side of the board.

Seungkwan extended a hand out to you. You daintily shook his hand, feeling shy from his act of sportsmanship.

He bowed slightly and picked up his briefcase. “I wish you luck on your next rounds, (Y/N).” Seungkwan winked and then left in a blink.

You followed him toward the cork board announcing all the pairings. You watched in satisfaction as your name went from the bottom of the board, to the top.

It was getting slightly tiring playing four consecutive chess matches, but as you walked up the stairs toward registration, you figured that it was all worth it to see the look of pure shock on Hyunjin and Jinyuh’s faces.

You stared at them expectantly, tapping your foot impatiently as you waited for your next pairing to be announced.

“You’re done,” Jinyuh sputtered.

Your brow raised. You had won all your games, how was that possible? “What do you mean?”

“The games are done for today. The finals are tomorrow,” Hyunjin said.

You nodded, satisfied with today’s results. “Thank you,” you replied and walked out of the forum, feeling even more confident when you realized that everyone’s eyes in the room were on you.

The clock ticked away as your fingers tapped against the table. Your eyes were everywhere in search, looking at every person standing around the chess board. Lee Chan was not here yet.

You let out a sigh and kept tapping away. The empty chair in front of you taunted you. Your gaze kept darting to the clock mounted on the wall, the red seconds hand traveling in rotations.

“Sorry about that,” Chan huffed.

You turned your heads toward him, your gaze sharp and burning. If he was bothered by it, he didn’t show it.

Chan shuffled in his chair for a few seconds before leaning in on his elbows. “Ready?” he asked, a grin on his face.

You let out a small scoff and leaned to start his clock.

It was a long game and long made you stressed. You weren’t used to this level of competition and it was starting to get to your head. It was harder to predict Lee Chan’s moves and counter them, almost like your eyesight was fogging up and blurring.

“Excuse me,” you gasped out before racing towards the bathroom. The crowd parted like the sea when you moved.

You splashed water all over your face before reaching into your pocket for your reassurance. Your tranquility. Your fingers fumbled with the pill bottle before tipping it forward. Pills tumbled into the palm of your hand.

You dumped all of them back in except for one and swallowed the green pill without a second thought. You let out a relieved pant and let your breathing stead.

As you slowly raised your head at the mirror, you stared at the reflection, memorizing each flutter of movement on the bathroom ceiling.

When you exited the bathroom doors, your sight was back, zeroing in on the chess board. You sat down in the chair and moved your piece swiftly.

Chan’s brows raised in concentration as he leaned further in.

The next few moves were all just as swift as the first one. Your strategy was played with no hesitation and as the end game drew near, Chan was starting to catch up.

Unfortunately, his pieces were still too behind.

“You see it don’t you?” you murmured, staring at him with widened eyes.

Chan was sweating now. He kept shifting in his seat and breathing heavily. “I can get out of this.”

“No you can’t. If you avoid my bishop, I’ll just take with the r-”

“Move!” Chan spit out.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, but complied.

The game played on into the end game. As you closed in on the king, you were two steps away from it. Your heart sped up in giddiness, feeling the sweetness of adrenaline on your tongue.

Chan’s voice broke through the illusion.

“Draw?” he whispered.

Your heart stopped. A draw? Your eyes whirled to the bystanders around you, some of which were now muttering underneath their breath. Your eyes rested on the familiar face of Seungkwan. His eyes were swirling with a mischievous mirth.

“No,” he mouthed at you, shaking his head.

You nodded, a smile returning to your face. “No way.”

Chan huffed, bracing himself against the table. He threw down his king.

The crowd erupted into applause as Chan walked away from the board.

You had won the state championship.

“So, I heard you lost your… whatever tournament that was.”

Chan sighs, “It was the state championship, damn it. What the hell are you doing here?”

Soonyoung grins and leans back in his chair. “C’mon, Chan. We’re family, remember? Don’t big brothers check up on their siblings’ interests and stuff?”

Chan glances up at him bemusedly. “Is chess the only interesting thing you ask about?”

“Hm,” Soonyoung pondered. “I don’t know about you, but it sure is for me. Say, what was her name? I think I saw it in the newspaper somewhere…”

“(Y/N) (L/N),” Chan grits. It was an embarrassing defeat on his part and celebrating his loss with the country’s champion wasn’t helping. Smirking, Chan decides to take a little bit of petty revenge. “I think she might beat you.”

“Oh ho!” This caught Soonyoung’s attention. “The girl who beat you?” He immediately sits up straighter, his eyes ablaze with competition. “Hm, is she coming to Vegas?”

“Probably.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to see. All in due time, right?”

Chan chuckles, “She might not go, though. You never know. And if she does go, I hope she beats your ass. Jeonghan’s always saying you got it coming.”

Soonyoung lets out a dry chuckle. “Now I’m intrigued by this mystery lady. However,” he pauses and contemplates his next words.

Chan looks up at him suspiciously, “However, what?”

Soonyoung grinned.

“I don’t plan on losing my title just yet.”

Chess was a game of delicacy. Like a pyramid of stacked cards, there was a method and a strategy to complete it. Missing a step meant a pile of lost cards on the table.

“You were too caught up with double pawns last game. You’ll win this one, (Y/N). You have to.”

previous part: here

next part: here (unavailable)

tag list: @haotheheckk @gryffindor-jun

#caratwritersclub #seventeen/reader #hoshi/reader #soonyoung/reader #seventeen hoshi #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #svt fluff #svt angst #hoshi fluff #hoshi angst #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung angst #g:seventeen

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noblechaton · 4 years

Text

In From the Cold

Hey @mimogene, I’m your @mlsecretsanta!! I heard that you love Marichat and so I whipped up some Marichat friendship fluff for ya!! Happy holidays <3

AO3

_____________________________

Marinette stood, foot tapping lightly on the cold kitchen floor as she finished adjusting her robe and folded her arms. She stared a bit aimlessly at her oven as it hummed away with the flickering flame inside illuminating her perfectly organized sheet of cookie dough clumps. This was the most she could think to do in her current situation, for better or worse.

To say this Christmas Eve had been quiet would be a bit of an understatement. No schoolwork to do, no bakery to run thanks to a family vacation, not even any sort of Akuma made an appearance this evening. The silent night was nice, for sure, but after a few years spending the holidays surrounded by some form of busy work, it was a bit...odd.

It certainly wasn’t how she was expecting to spend her first Christmas alone, anyway. A seasonal cold had kept her from tagging along on a trip to see family and friends in Shanghai, and a lack of staff meant the bakery would be closed until after the holidays. So here she was, alone in her dimly lit house with little else to do than bake a few sheets of cookies while snow and wind whipped at the walls.

She wasn’t necessarily going to complain about her situation, though. After all, there were probably worse ways to spend the holidays than filling your home with the scent of various kinds of fresh cookies. It was more that something just felt amiss after the last few years of noise, that it almost felt wrong to have a quiet night entirely to herself after so long.

With her family some five thousand miles away, however, there weren’t exactly a lot of options otherwise. She definitely wasn’t about to hope for an Akuma attack, and ruling that out left her with little else beyond seeing if anyone had a spare stocking on the wall.

Even if she did such a thing, would it be rude? Alya always said that she’d have a spot with her family if she wanted or needed it, and Nino had expressed similar sentiments. The idea of going to Adrien’s and spending not only Christmas Eve with him, but Christmas day too, was nice even if it wasn’t exactly realistic.

Somewhat mindlessly, she started pulling her phone out of her pocket and scrolled through her contacts. There was next to no chance that she’d end up at Adrien’s, but that didn’t stop her thumb from hovering over his number for a few extra seconds. She didn’t quite consider herself close enough to Nino to risk barging in on his family’s Christmas, so she moved back up towards Alya.

Maybe she should just be content with her quiet night. That’s what caused some further hesitation as she stared down at the pixelated image of her best friend. Her parents had even left her gifts under the tree already, so she could spend the next day unwrapping whatever she’d gotten and watching cheesy Christmas movies.

Marinette tilted her head to the side and hummed in further thought. Something about opening gifts alone seemed hollow, even if she was given the okay to do so. Much like the night at hand, the idea didn’t feel quite right. So her attention went back to her phone and her thumb soon tapped on Alya’s contact.

Swallowing whatever nerves came with trying to form a last minute text message, Marinette typed away on her phone. She explained her situation and tried to frame things in the most positive light she could. A brief hum followed as she read over her words again and, dissatisfied with the outcome, she started to erase it and started again.

This time, she worded things somewhat better. It was certainly important to note that the worst of her cold had passed, as was mentioning that this was a one time thing. She certainly hoped it would be, at least. A new and somewhat improved message flowed from her fingertips and onto the screen.

Then, she hesitated, again. This was a much more difficult task than she would have imagined. Tapping the backspace button, the letters disappeared as she took a deep inhale and readied herself to try again. Rather than dumping the entire situation in one message, she figured an icebreaker of sorts would help.

“Hey, girl! Hope you’re staying warm tonight!” Her fingers wrote, briefly wondering if the exclamation points weren’t a bit overkill. “I have a question I need to ask if you’re not too busy or anything. It’s fine if you are, though! No worries <3”

She exhaled and pressed send. A few seconds passed before it actually sent, but with that she set her phone down on the counter behind her and leaned back. It wasn’t like she was against spending the holidays with her best friend or anything, quite the opposite in fact. It was more that she was still apprehensive about possibly dropping in like this, but maybe-

Marinette’s thought train suddenly came to a halt as the loud noise of something crashing erupted somewhere nearby. Her eyes rolled around some in an attempt to trace the noise as she moved quickly through her kitchen. She glanced out the nearest window to assess the situation.

Nothing seemed amiss from what she could see, everything seemed to be in order. Snow was still pounding down and the wind was still whipping. A few cars passed by and there even seemed to be a set of carolers on the sidewalk.

She stared out for a bit longer to see if perhaps it was something hidden. There’d been more than a few stealthy Akuma, after all. Nothing changed, however, and with no one outside reacting to anything whatsoever, that left her with only one other idea.

It came from her roof.

Quickly, she turned the dial on her oven down and made for the staircase. A mental checklist flew through her mind as she tried to figure out what she might have felt outside. Her sun chair had been indoors since winter started, as were her potted plants. She didn’t think it was windy enough for her tea table to have blown away, so she couldn’t be sure.

Still, she was pretty certain that’s where the noise came from, and continued trying to figure out what it could have been on her way through her bedroom. Aside from something blowing over from another house, nothing seemed to fit the bill. She let out a hum while climbing over her bed and moving up her ladder before briefly stopping just before reaching the trapdoor.

Marinette cocked an eyebrow at the sound of further clattering on her balcony and cautiously peeked through the hatch. Slowly, her eyes roamed the area from one side until she spotted the culprit. Or at least, roughly half of the culprit, considering the other half was covered in the slight mound of snow that had accumulated throughout the day.

“Chat Noir?” She questioned aloud, staring at the bottom half of a leather-clad figure with a belt tail she found herself hoping actually was her costumed partner.

Said belt tail twitched as the person shifted around and attempted to dig themselves out of the snow. With one sudden push, the pile disappeared and in its place stood a snowy Chat Noir.

“Guess I missed the chimney.” He said, dusting the powder off. Marinette did not have a chimney.

The wind calmed around them for the time being as a slight silence befell the balcony. He merely stood brushing himself off, while she popped her head further out the hatch and continued trying to process what was going on.

“You, uh,” Marinette cleared her throat and stepped onto the balcony. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, yep!” Chat smiled widely. He even gave her a thumbs up for good measure, the ears on his head flicking some remaining snow off.

“You sure? It sounded like you fell.” She flatly stated. Admittedly, it was hard to know how to react to a situation like this. It was almost surprising that it hadn’t happened before.

“Uh, well…I kinda did.” He leaned down to collect his baton, something he might have done to hide some sort of embarrassment. “Guess Santa Paws hit an ice patch or something and just sorta slipped, it is pretty hard to see right now, y’know?”

“Right.” Marinette flatly said as she nodded along slowly. “Speaking of, can I ask...why you’re out? Is there an Akuma around?”

“No.” Chat replied. “Er, not that I know of. Not yet. That’s actually why I was out! I was doing a patrol around the city to see if any supervillains were around.”

Marinette’s eyebrow raised.

“All alone in the middle of the night?”

He stammered for a moment, obviously a bit flustered. The fall must have done more damage to his pride than anything else, she figured.

“Well, yeah.” Chat answered, flashing a few teeth behind an exaggerated grin. “You never know when or where they might crop up, after all. Better safe than sorry!”

Marnette didn’t know what to say. It’s not that he was necessarily wrong, and they had been doing the occasional patrol over the last few months, but they usually did them together. Or rather, he would patrol with Ladybug. So his running around the city alone definitely seemed odd.

“And Ladybug’s...home sick?” She stifled a slight chuckle at how clever she felt. All things considered, she’d know if he was telling the truth here or not, even if she couldn’t exactly out him if he wasn’t.

Her question seemed to cause him to freeze up somewhat, though, an unexpected reaction. There was some low mumbling she didn’t quite hear and a few gestures of his hands, but he didn’t manage to give a straight answer after what felt like a good minute or so. She knew him well enough to know something was definitely off.

“Hey,” Marinette took the few steps needed to close the gap between them. Her hand cautiously reached for his shoulder and stopped his muttering. “Is everything okay?”

Chat chewed the inside of his mouth for a moment. His eyes avoided hers, instead focusing on the ground while he attempted to formulate a reply.

“I, uh...don’t wanna get too heavy on you or anything.” He said.

She was just a civilian, after all.

“It’s okay.” Marinette replied. Hard to shut those Ladybug instincts down with her snow-covered partner taking up residency on her balcony while clearly in some form of distress. Still, she had to make sure she wasn’t coming across as too eager. “I mean, I’m not gonna pry or anything, but I don’t mind listening.”

Chat mulled it over for a bit. Sure, he knew who Marinette was and trusted her almost as much as he did Ladybug, but Chat Noir didn’t. At least, not after the scant few interactions they’d had over the years. Maybe it’d be easier without the leather, though that wasn’t much of an option.

Still, the offer of an otherwise friendly ear was extremely tempting at the moment. Especially after plummeting however many feet through the Parisian sky.

“Without getting into the details,” He started after an inhale. “Christmas has been...kind of a rough time for me over the last few years. There’s been some good ones and everything, but sometimes it just...gets to me.”

Marinette nodded, adjusting her robe some. The wind started whipping up again, sending flakes of snow flying all around them as she realized just how cold it was.

“Er, hey, not to make this any weirder,” She spoke up, wishing she opted for the sweater over the t-shirt she picked. “But it’s pretty cold up here, so...would you mind if we take this inside?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Chat replied a bit quicker than he might have intended. The super suit offered him some protection from the elements, but even he noticed just how cold it had gotten. He tapped the metal toes of his boots on the floor and then perked up with a question of his own. “Should I go down the hatch, or?”

“Eh,” Marinette gave a slight shrug, eyeing him over. She glanced at the snow caked onto his shoes, likely why he asked in the first place. “I needed to wash my bed stuff soon anyway, so I don’t mind.”

With that, she stepped back and climbed down the ladder with Chat following cautiously behind. Halfway down the ladder, he reached up and nudged the hatch so that it fell shut before hesitantly pressing his boots to her mattress. Marinette snickered some at that while she walked down the steps and waited by her bedroom door.

Chat opted to hop from her bed to the floor, striking an unnecessarily stylish pose as he glanced over at the wall full of posters and pictures of a certain blonde model. He then shot her a smirk from his crouched position and she gave him a light laugh before nodding out the door, a silent instruction for him to follow her through the house. He tapped the tips of his toes on a nearby towel on the floor to try and track as little snow as possible.

Marinette acted as a guide as they made their way through a house he found himself quite familiar with by now. It wasn’t much of a journey as the destination she was leading them to, her kitchen, was just another staircase or so away. He walked through the living room to join her and couldn’t help but smile at how unchanged it was from the last time he’d been here.

“Peanut butter?” He asked after taking a whiff of the oven.

“Yep.” Marinette replied, twisting a dial and opening the door. “Been making cookies all day and that was the last kind I had left. They should be just about done actually.”

“I can get that, if you want.” Chat chimed in, leaning over next to her. Marinette gestured at the appliance and let him go.

He stepped in front of the dimly glowing, and deliciously smelling, chamber and eased a hand inside. Heat radiated off and ran along his face while he swiftly pulled the pan out. Dropping it on the top, Chat flapped his hand around some and blew on it a few times.

“You alright?” Marinette lightly giggled.

“Oh, yeah,” Chat nodded, giving a laugh of his own. “Just...kinda thought it’d be colder.”

Marinette shook her head some and nudged a few cookies that ended up on top of each other after his sudden movements apart. To be entirely fair, she still wasn’t sure what the limit of protection the suits offered was, so this was something of a learning experience for the both of them.

“Alright, well, let’s let those cool for a bit.” She said, moving to her cabinets. “Care for a cup of cocoa?”

He hesitated again, eyes wandering out the window. Marinette could see conflict on his face, even if she wasn’t sure what it was.

“Yeah.” Chat eventually answered. “I’d like that.”

She gave him a shake of her head and retrieved two cups and a large bowl from her cupboard. Then she pulled out some cocoa mix while he took the liberty of getting the milk and whipped cream from her fridge. He poured the milk while she tore open the packets and dumped them in. She used a little extra, just in case either of them wanted more later. A few stirs of a spoon later and the mixture was in the microwave.

“So.” Marinette leaned against her counter. “Still got something on your mind, huh?”

“Oh, uh,” Chat stuttered for a moment as he took a seat at her table. “I guess so, yeah.”

“I’m not gonna push or anything,” Marinette decided to explain her position on the matter, keeping a smile to try and help him be more comfortable. “But I know having someone to talk to can help sometimes, even if they don’t know what to say, and you’ve been around here often enough that I don’t mind.”

“I have, haven’t I?” Chat gave her a smile of his own. It only really just sunk in how frequently he ended up at her house, specifically in the leather. “Can I ask you something first, though?”

“Sure.” She openly agreed.

“Are we...friends, Marinette?”

His question caused a brief silence. A near tension, even, as Marinette thought on it. She didn’t have to ponder the answer all that much, of course they were friends, but it could be a bit difficult to explain why she felt so strongly if he asked. So she tempered herself and gave a direct, if somewhat passive answer.

“I think so, yeah.” Marinette replied as the microwave hummed behind her. “I consider you one, at least.”

Chat smiled at that.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat and shot her a wink. “Back at’cha.”

“Anyway.” Marinette chuckled, popping the door open with a second left on the clock. She fixed their drinks, complete with spraying the whipped cream he left on the counter, as she waited for his next words.

“Anyway,” Chat picked up. “I guess it’s just kinda hard to explain.”

“Take your time, kitty.” She passed him a drink and briefly froze up after realizing what she’d called him. Not that he seemed to notice.

“Well,” He took a sip and then stared down at the cup. “A few years ago, I...lost someone close to me, and they loved Christmas. They loved most holidays, actually”

“Mhm.” Marinette hummed to assure him she was listening.

“And it’s hard not to think of them sometimes, especially during this time of year.” Chat continued. “Plus, I’m kinda living on my own this year, so it’s just me, y’know?”

“I understand.” She gave him a nod, even if he wasn’t looking.

“But, yeah,” Chat exhaled a breath and decided to be honest. His green gaze met hers again for the first time since she handed him his drink. “Sometimes I just have to...get out, try to clear my head or distract myself, and that’s what I was doing. I...didn’t want to be alone.”

“Oh.” Was what Marinette muttered. Her heart seemed to sink in her chest some, and suddenly it all made sense. “I’m...sorry to hear that, Chat.”

“Yeah…” He mumbled, thumbs tapping the side of his cup before he sat it down on the table behind him. Before another second passed, he stood up and started to turn towards the staircase. “Sorry, I should...I should go.”

“Wait,” Marinette called out. She couldn’t let him leave like that, like this. ”Wait, hold on.”

“No, it’s okay.” Chat gave her a slight wave without even looking at her. “Happy holidays, Marinette.”

“Wait.” Marinette said again. She didn’t even notice she’d dashed through the kitchen and grabbed the cuff around his wrist until she looked up. It must have been something of an instinct at this point, a reflex. “I-I mean, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Uh,” Chat blinked for a moment, stammering behind his barely parted lips. From the looks of it, neither of them expected her to grab his arm the way she did. “No, really, it’s okay. Thanks for listening to me and everything, but I don’t wanna ruin your family’s Christmas or anything.

“My parents are on vacation, actually. That’s why the bakery isn’t open” Marinette replied, chuckling some as she stepped up closer to him. “Did you think I was inviting you in for a meal with my family again?”

“No, I just...hadn’t noticed. You did say you've been baking all day, so-” Chat stopped himself for a moment to check his mental calendar. “Wait. It is Christmas Eve, right?”

“Yeah, it is.” Marinette nodded, sitting her cup of cocoa down on the table next to his. “Their flight got delayed a few days because of the storm, I guess, so now instead of making it back tonight they’ll be getting here sometime on Friday.”

“Ah.” Chat swallowed and shook his head some.

“So I guess I’m...kind of alone this Christmas, too.” She added. “And I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stick around for the night. It’d be nice having an extra set of claws when it comes time to open presents tomorrow, too.”

“That, um,” He paused, glancing around the room. He really hadn’t noticed how quiet it was until now. His hesitation gradually started to fade, along with the remnants of the conflict on his face. While he didn’t want to be invasive, it was hard to turn down an offer that came with as much warmth as the one she was offering.

They were friends, after all.

“That’d be nice.” Chat eventually smiled.

“I certainly hope so.” Marinette gave him a smirk of her own. More than that, she then wrapped her other arm around his form and embraced him in a tight hug.

“Thank you, Marinette.” Chat said after processing what was happening. His own arms curled around her shoulders and snuggled her to his body, a gentle purr emanating from his chest.

#Miraculous Ladybug #mlsecretsanta #marichat #marinette dupen chang #chat noir #noblefic #had a few peeps read this over so I hope it came out good yo!!

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juju-on-that-yeet · 4 years

Text

Unravel, Chapter 6/20

Work Summary: Antisepticeye has a plan to destroy Darkiplier, steal his power, and take over everything - and he might just succeed. What starts with Yandereplier going missing evolves into a messy web of betrayal and grief, of blood and tears, of old wounds and new faces. However this ends, Ego Inc. will never be the same again. Chapter Summary: Dr. Iplier finds himself somewhere new, facing Yandere’s kidnapper. The truth comes out and the situation escalates in one horrifying swoop. Warnings: Mind control, violence, blood, death threats, non-con touching, brief suicide mention

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

“Hey, wake up already, I only gave you a little bit.”

Dr. Iplier groans. He wakes slowly, confused. It takes him a long moment to remember what happened. But it comes to him moment by moment, the strange feeling, the cabinet closing, the empty box, the static, the syringe, the static –

Dr. Iplier gasps awake, jolting into full awareness. He’s sitting in a chair, his arms and legs tied down. He’s somewhere he’s never seen before, somewhere cold and dirty, somewhere with wood floors and wood walls. The person standing in front of him grins, Cheshire-like and sharp.

“There you are! I only needed you out for a minute, it’s been nearly ten.”

Dr. Iplier pales.

“Anti!?”

“Who else?”

Anti stands before Dr. Iplier in his classic black t-shirt and dark, forest-green hair to complement his green-tinged skin. His ears are gauged, his throat is slit and bleeding slightly. His eyes, one bright blue and one glowing green, are glinting with barely-restrained glee.

“Where am I?” Dr. Iplier gasps, trying not to sound afraid. “This isn’t your hideout!”

“No, it’s not,” Anti says, “Or at least, it’s not my main one. I knew you guys would come looking for me, so I figured I needed another place to hide my secrets.” Anti laughs at Dr. Iplier’s bewildered expression. “I’ll admit though, I’ve had this place on reserve for a while, off the grid. Not completely, though. I mean, hello!” He points to himself and glitches, pixels scattering and reforming. “But as much as it could be. We’re out in, oh, what are the words, a little wood cabin in the middle of nowhere?”

“You mean…?”

“Oh no, not the cabin, who knows where that thing is. But it’s fitting, isn’t it? It’s a handy place to have, for sure, especially after your esteemed leaders tore my main hideout apart.” Anti pauses, leaning closer to Dr. Iplier. “You’re looking for someone, aren’t you?”

“If you remember their visit,” Dr. Iplier mutters, “You know damn well who we’re looking for.”

“Ohhh, someone’s grumpy!” Anti laughs, as though he’s looking at a hissing kitten. “You won’t be talking so tough in a minute. I have something to show you. You’re only the second Iplier to see this place.”

Dr. Iplier’s heart simultaneously sinks and soars. He knows what Anti means even before he glitches away for a moment and returns with another person.

It’s Yandere. It’s Dr. Iplier’s son, his boy, his baby, the one he’s been missing, the one he’s been lonely for, the one he’s been afraid of losing forever, standing before him in the flesh, whole, alive…but wrong.

It’s mostly his eyes. There’s no whites, no pupils, no chocolate brown, only static, black and white and lifeless. He faces Dr. Iplier, but he stares through him, seeing nothing. His entire face is slack, mouth open. His hair is dirty, greasy, his normally-bright ruby bangs are now dull and dusty red. His cheek is bruised, as are places on his arms and legs. He’s peppered with cuts, his neck is mottled purple and red, his nails are chipped and dirty. He’s too thin. His breathing is wheezy. He stands limply, like the slightest tap might knock him down, yet his posture is mostly straight, like a doll meticulously positioned.

Or a puppet.

“Yan,” Dr. Iplier gasps, staring at his child with undisguised horror.

“Don’t bother trying to talk to him,” Anti says casually, “He doesn’t care about what anyone has to say but me. He won’t remember this later, anyway.” He points to Yandere’s buzzing, static eyes. “He can barely string together a coherent thought with all the static floating around in his brain right now. So we can talk about anything, no need to worry about what Yan’ll remember.”

“How did you do this?” Dr. Iplier asks, quiet with shock. “There’s measures in place to keep you out…”

“Yeah, but I’ll tell you a secret.” Anti leans in towards Dr. Iplier again. “They don’t completely work. I couldn’t manifest all the way; otherwise I would’ve kidnapped him sooner. But I could sneak my static into the things he listened to, I could put glitches in the things he watched.” Anti grins, voice darkening. “I could put little messages into his head about how nice the static is, how pretty it is, how fun it is to listen to it. How fun it is to obey it. To submit. It took some patience, but eventually he was putty in my hands, and none of you suspected a thing.”

“So the storm, the blackout…”

“Actually, that’s the one thing I can’t take credit for.” Anti shrugs. “I still needed a way to manifest in the building, and the storm was my chance. I may have lent some power to the lightning bolt that hit the building, though. And when I left, I made sure to leave a little path through the coding so I could come back after the Googles fixed everything again. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having our lovely chat.”

“You mean you wouldn’t be having your monologue,” Dr. Iplier snaps.

Anti grins again, but there’s something different about it. Before Dr. Iplier can figure out what, Anti raises a hand and strikes Yandere across the face, his nails splitting open Yandere’s cheek.

“Yan!!” Dr. Iplier cries, lurching forward against his bonds.

“I’m in control here,” Anti says, eyes glittering with rage, mouth still grinning. “Yandere is my puppet. You are my prisoner. He already knows his place, and you had better learn yours. I’d hate to have to skin him alive right here in front of you, but I will if you make me.” He glitches a knife into his hand, holds it under Yandere’s chin. “Are you going to make me?”

“No, no, please,” Dr. Iplier begs. A tear runs down his cheek.

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Yandere, for his part, doesn’t even react to the slap. It snaps his head to the side, and he merely slowly turns his head back to face Dr. Iplier again. There’s three lines in his cheek from Anti’s nails, dripping blood down his face.

“Maybe you should’ve listened to Wilford after all,” Anti says with a shrug. “Not that he had any real reason to keep suspecting me; he had no evidence but a hunch and his own paranoia. But you know what they say about broken clocks.” He pauses. “Come to think of it, Jackieboy mentioned how quiet I’ve been lately. I guess you guys had plenty of hints, you just ignored them.”

“How…how do you know about all that?” Dr. Iplier asks, tears still falling from earlier.

“C’mon Doc, don’t you remember my PAX video?” Anti laughs. His hair fades into yellow-green, his eyes turn black. “I’m always there, always watching. I know everything.” He laughs again at Dr. Iplier’s shocked expression as his hair and eyes return to normal. “Hey, hey, I wanna show you something cool.”

“Wh…What?” Dr. Iplier asks, feeling as though he has no other choice.

“Watch this.”

Anti steps closer to Yandere, getting into his personal space. Yandere doesn’t react, doesn’t move away.

“Yandere.”

Yandere turns his head and looks at Anti, still expressionless.

“Who’s your senpai?” Anti grins, draping an arm around Yandere’s shoulder.

“You,” Yandere answers without hesitation, voice monotone.

It’s so unlike Yandere, so unlike his normal emotional self, so unlike his normal personality, that Dr. Iplier sobs.

“Try again,” Anti says, prodding Yandere’s bleeding cheek with one finger. “Say my name this time.”

“You are my senpai, Anti-sama,” Yandere says, still dull and lifeless.

“Did you hear that??” Anti cackles, dropping his head into Yandere’s shoulder to laugh. “He used “-sama”!” He grins at Dr. Iplier, all teeth. “I’m his god now.” He looks back to Yandere with a smile that’s almost gentle. “You’ve really taken well to your conditioning. Good boy, Yandere.” He ruffles Yandere’s hair, raking through the greasy strands with his long nails, and while Yandere’s expression doesn’t change, his posture perks up, like some part of him enjoys the praise.

Dr. Iplier just feels sick, seeing Anti pet Yandere’s hair like he used to.

“Don’t touch him,” he gasps.

“Why not?” Anti asks, leaning in close to Yandere, nose to nose. “He doesn’t mind, see?” He takes Yandere’s chin, turns his face forward again, and licks a line up Yandere’s cheek, tongue running a long stripe through the drying blood there.

“Get away from him!!” Dr. Iplier screams, fighting against his restraints, tears pouring down his face in earnest. “Let go of him, don’t touch my son!!”

“He’s not your anything, not anymore,” Anti says, straightening but keeping his hands on Yandere’s shoulders. “All he knows now is me. All he cares about is me. If I told him to kill himself for me he’d do it. Wanna see?”

“No, no, no,” Dr. Iplier moans, sagging in his bonds, exhausted and shattered.

“Good.” One of Anti’s clawed fingers runs up Yandere’s neck, stroking over his jugular. “I’m not ready to give up this puppet yet.”

“What do you want with him?” Dr. Iplier asks, weeping. “What do you want from me?”

“Ohhh, what do you want from me??” Anti mocks, hair morphing into a natural dark brown and green eye glowing like a star. “Let me tell you, Doc.” His appearance changes back to normal as he looks down at Dr. Iplier. “I have a plan. And it all started with Yandere here.” He pauses. “Well, actually, it started with this.” He digs in the pocket of his jeans for something, and pulls out a small, skinny, cylindrical vial of purple liquid.

“What is that?” Dr. Iplier asks, mystified as to how this relates.

“This,” Anti says, holding the vial up to the light, “Is a potion that Marvin made. He doesn’t know I have it; I doubt he even knows it’s missing. He has this thing where he likes to make potions he has no intention of using to boost his skills, and then he hoards them all in case they end up being useful someday.” He shakes the vial lightly, and as it sloshes, red and blue peek through the ripples. “He changes their hiding place every week so I don’t find them, but I always do. I’ve been waiting for him to make me something useful, and he finally did.” Anti peers at Dr. Iplier, flashing another shark-toothed grin. “What do you think it does?”

“I…” Dr. Iplier starts, “How would I know?”

Anti lets out a barking laugh.

“Good point,” he admits. “This potion is designed to split beings up into their base essences.” He speaks slowly, thoughtfully. “It’d probably make a normal human explode. But if Marvin took it, he’d probably just lose his magic. If I took it, it might pull away my glitches. Oh, I know!” He snaps his fingers with his other hand. “It’s like Bim’s power, how he can pull things apart. But this is much more concentrated, much faster, much stronger. But it’s also one-use only. You’d have to take the whole vial for this to work. And I have a particular victim in mind.”

“Who?” Dr. Iplier asks, dread creeping down his back. A potion like that could cause untold damage to any of the egos.

Anti grins.

“Dark,” he says, like it’s a logical conclusion. “If Dark takes this, I bet it’ll split him apart from his aura, and then it’ll be mine for the taking.” His eyes glint as Dr. Iplier’s widen. “I’ll be the most powerful figment on the planet. I’ll be unstoppable. And you,” He points at Dr. Iplier. “Are going to help me make it happen.”

“What!? No way!!” Dr. Iplier cries. “Why me, anyway? And why take Yandere?? Why not do this yourself!?”

“Are you kidding?” Anti scoffs, “I’m not stupid. There’s no way I could sneak this potion into Dark myself. He’d catch me in an instant, and then it’d be game over. There’s no way I could puppet Wilford, either; if I could, I’d just do that instead of bother with all this.” He puts an arm around Yandere again as he continues. “Really, you were always the best candidate to enact this plan, Doc. No one would ever suspect you, and you’d have ample opportunity. I would’ve just puppeted you, but you’re too close to The Host.” He snarls in annoyance, grip tightening on Yandere’s shoulder. “For a blind guy, he sees fucking everything. So trying to get you directly was too risky. I needed a different way in. I needed leverage.” He looks at Yandere, still impassive and blank, and grins. “I needed Yandere. I knew that so long as I took care not to condition him with someone else in the room, I could make him a puppet right under everyone’s nose. I thought about just making him give Dark the potion, but he’s so fucking in love with him.” Anti grimaces in disgust and grabs Yandere’s face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks. “If he were just a human I could force him anyway, but he’s a figment, and his whole stupid existence is about being in love with Dark.” He releases Yandere’s cheeks to grab his hair instead. “I didn’t want to risk him shaking off my suggestion in the middle of it. So instead, he’s my leverage. After all…” He looks back to Dr. Iplier. “You’re still the best person to get this potion into Dark. All you need is a push.” He pulls Yandere’s hair, so hard that Yandere is lifted up to stand on his toes. He doesn’t even flinch, but Dr. Iplier does.

“So, what,” Dr. Iplier gasps, mind reeling, “You kidnap and threaten Yandere to make me do your bidding? Is that it?” He glares at Anti. “If you got Dark’s aura you’d kill us all. I can’t let that happen.”

“That’s just the thing, isn’t it?” Anti cackles, “You’re between a rock and a hard place. If you refuse my plan outright, well, I’ll probably just keep you here. See if I can make you a puppet without Host breathing down your neck. They might figure it out when I send you back, but I could always just possess you and pretend to be you.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Then I could get Dark, and keep Yandere for a while…but ugh, you might push me out. No, this is the best way.” He finally releases Yandere’s hair, and Dr. Iplier watches a few tufts float to the ground, pulled out by Anti’s forceful grip. Yandere falls back on his heels, almost stumbles, but rights himself back to his original posture. Anti cups Yandere’s chin, turns his face to look into his static-filled eyes. “I might just kill Yandere if you refuse.” He grabs Yandere’s waist with his other hand, pulls him so he’s flush against Anti, chest to chest.

“He’d…” Dr. Iplier forces himself to stay calm, keep down his revulsion. “He’d come back. And in the meantime, we’d find this place, Dark and Wilford will rip you apart, and Yandere will wake up safe at Ego Inc.”

“He might come back,” Anti agrees, hand on Yandere’s chin creeping around to the back of his neck. “He might not, though. And if he did, do you think you’d have enough time to find him? You don’t know where this place is. You can’t even be sure what country this is.” His hand on Yandere’s waist travels, pulling up Yandere’s shirt, nails digging into his back, leaving red lines as they go. “I wonder how many times I’ll have to kill him before it sticks. Probably not many; he’s not as popular as the others. But how will I do it? I could skin him like I threatened to do earlier. I could slit his throat, make us twins. I could strangle him. I could rip out his spine, or his lungs, or his heart. I could make him commit seppuku or eat poison. I could tie him up, release him from my control, and let him be fully aware while I torture him, make him beg me to kill him with his own free will.” Anti grins, leaning his head onto Yandere’s shoulder, into his neck, fangs against Yandere’s skin when he speaks again. “Maybe I could tear out his throat with my teeth, right here, right in front of you.” He breathes in through his nose, ruffling Yandere’s hair, and growls. “I bet his blood is so nice, so warm. I bet it tastes incredible.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Dr. Iplier moans, mindless in terror and grief as he watches Anti put his hands on his son, sickeningly intimate. “Don’t hurt him, please don’t hurt him.”

“Does that mean you’ll cooperate?” Anti asks, not pulling away.

Dr. Iplier whimpers, too in shock to sob. He knows helping Anti will lead to ruin. With Dark’s aura, Anti truly would be unstoppable. He’d be at least a match for Wilford, and he’d be able to mow down anyone else in his way. He could capture so many as puppets. The harm he could do is, truly, limitless. He might even go after humans, too, might try to take over anything. With Dark’s aura adding to his power, it might even be possible.

But…there’s still Yandere. There’s still his baby, there’s still his little one. Dr. Iplier could protect Yandere, he and the others could keep him safe, held away from Anti’s destruction. They can reinforce Ego Inc., rebuild the codes to keep Anti out, fight back, resist. They could find a way to destroy him. They could find a way to defeat him.

Dr. Iplier looks up, above Yandere’s head, to look at the timer there, the timer that everyone has, the timer that says how long someone has to live. He’s been avoiding looking at it this whole time, afraid of what he’ll see. But he needs to know. He can’t make a decision without seeing it. Yandere’s time is written in light blue numbers, which is promising; blue means the number can change, it can go lower but it can also go higher. The number is fluctuating up and down rapidly, no, not just fluctuating, glitching. The numbers scramble and fuzz up, rippling and crackling like a malfunctioning digital clock. Dr. Iplier’s jaw drops. He’s never seen someone’s time behave like this.

It’s stark, undeniable proof that Yandere’s life is completely in Anti’s hands. Whether he lives longer or dies sooner depends on Anti.

And what Anti does depends on Dr. Iplier.

Dr. Iplier cannot do it. He cannot kill his child, not even for the greater good.

He lets his head drop, ashamed.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” he asks Anti, quiet and broken.

He doesn’t see Anti’s grin, but he can imagine it, all pointy teeth and eyes that glint with triumph.

“Look at me,” Anti says, “And pay attention.”

Dr. Iplier lifts his head. Anti finally, finally lets go of Yandere, allowing him to return to his original position, staring emptily at Dr. Iplier.

“I’m going to send you back with the potion,” Anti begins. “You’re not to tell anyone about this conversation. You won’t tell anyone that you saw me, or saw Yandere, or anything else about what happened between us today. You won’t tell them to confront me again, or consider me as a suspect, or anything. If you do, consider our arrangement broken, because I’ll be murdering Yandere the second you let anything slip.” He smirks. “You can’t tell the Googles to revisit the coding keeping me out, either. That counts. You’ll carry that potion, keep quiet, and wait for a good time to use it on Dark. Inject him with it or make him drink it, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“It might take a while,” Dr. Iplier mumbles.

“I know that,” Anti says, “I’m prepared to wait as long as it takes. But when the opportunity comes, you better take it. If you hesitate or change your mind, I’ll kill Yandere. But first I’ll sneak back into Ego Inc., take the potion from you, and give it to Dark myself.”

“How do you expect me to hide from The Host?” Dr. Iplier asks, “You said yourself that he knows everything.”

“What did he say before?” Anti asks in return, “Something about not knowing the past?” He grins at Dr. Iplier’s expression. “Told ya, Doc, always watching. Anyway, if you play it cool, he won’t suspect a thing. Once you give Dark the potion, I’ll drop by to snag his aura and return Yandere.”

“Return him unharmed,” Dr. Iplier growls. Anti laughs.

“It’s a bit late for that,” he chuckles, stroking Yandere’s scratched cheek. “But he’ll be free from my control, alive, and in one piece. That much I can promise.” He appears a knife into his hand, approaches Dr. Iplier, and cuts one of his hands free before holding out his own. “Is that a deal?”

Dr. Iplier chews his lip. He doesn’t want to do this. But he doesn’t want to lose Yandere. At the very least, he can agree for now, and figure out a plan later.

“Fine,” he sighs, thoroughly exhausted. He shakes Anti’s hand.

“Excellent.” Anti takes the potion back out of his pocket and gives it to Dr. Iplier.

The vial of purple liquid is surprisingly warm. Dr. Iplier slips it into the pocket of his lab coat. It feels like a hot stone, weighing him down. Anti cuts him completely free, allowing Dr. Iplier to stand. He rubs his wrists, chafed from the rope.

“Alright then,” Anti says, preparing to glitch them back to the clinic.

“Wait!” Dr. Iplier exclaims. “Can I…” He swallows. “Can I say goodbye to Yandere first?” Anti rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t know you anymore, remember?” Anti asks, condescending. “And he’s not going to remember it once I pull the static out of his brain.”

“I know, I know, just, please,” Dr. Iplier begs, “Just for a minute. I’ve missed him so much.”

“Fine,” Anti sighs, like it’s a huge inconvenience. “Make it quick.” He steps out of the way, leaving nothing between Dr. Iplier and Yandere.

Nothing between Dr. Iplier and his boy, the person he’s spent two weeks missing, two weeks waiting for, two weeks fearing he’d never see again.

He rushes to him, hugs him tight, starts stroking his greasy, limp hair. Tears prick his eyes as he holds Yandere close, and Yandere doesn’t react. He doesn’t push away, he doesn’t hug back, he doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t relax with relief or flinch with fear. Still, it brings strength to Dr. Iplier’s heart to have his son in his arms again, even if for a moment, even if Yandere won’t remember or care.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing Yandere’s forehead, over and over. “I love you, I love you so much. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to make this right. I promise I’ll protect you no matter what.” He cups Yandere’s cheeks, mindful of the bruise on one cheek and the scratches on the other. “I’ll get you home again. Just hang in there, baby. It’ll be okay.”

He searches Yandere’s face for a reaction, for a twitch, for any indication of recognition or acknowledgement. There’s none. Yandere’s expression is blank, his eyes are still only static. Tears start to run down Dr. Iplier’s cheeks. He kisses Yandere’s forehead one last time before letting him go.

“I’m ready,” Dr. Iplier whispers through his tears.

“Quit crying,” Anti mutters, disgusted.

Dr. Iplier wipes his eyes with one arm as Anti grabs his other.

Then with a zap, they’re in cyberspace.

Dr. Iplier gasps, looking around himself to see code and binary surrounding him. Anti is electric beside him, zooming through the code, pulling Dr. Iplier with him. They hop from wifi network to hotspot, keeping up with the endless stream, until, suddenly, another zap sounds and Dr. Iplier is standing in his clinic again.

Anti is gone, but the potion remains in Dr. Iplier’s coat pocket.

He collapses into a nearby chair and sobs, and sobs, and sobs.

When The Host comes in that evening for blood transfusions and new bandages, Dr. Iplier is numb enough to act like nothing is amiss, and fixes Host like normal.

“Normal,” he thinks to himself as he helps Host, “Nothing will ever be normal again.”

#dr. iplier #yanderplier #antisepticeye #markiplier #jacksepticeye #markiplier fanfiction #jacksepticeye fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #kristin says stuff #unravel #o o f #i love this chapter but y'all might not >:3c

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agni-ignition · 3 years

Note

Not sure exactly where but i think some people have done things like measuring the pixels on a character to figure out their 'height', which is normally fine in most games, but the reason that the heights are so wild is bc tf2's artstyle is so exaggerated that the 'measurements' can be wonky. Just a guess, tho!

Sometimes I line up all the models just to see what the average ass-height is. heavy is mostly torso and his ass is so low and scouts ass is way up high

#I wanted to respond to this but I wasn’t sure what to say #look at that high waisted man he’s got feminine hips #anon #ask #there’s no Christian way to say any of this

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coldflasher · 4 years

Photo

Femslash Week Day 7 - Unexpected/alternate meeting

Pairing: Nora West-Allen/Jesse Wells

Rating: Teen (Fade-to-black sex scene)

TW: mentions of sex

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23066806

Can’t Outrun Love by coldflasher

“Maybe you should introduce yourself,” said Nora as they circled one another.

“You first,” the other speedster said.

“They call me XS,” said Nora, and went for a super-speed roundhouse kick.

Her form was perfect, and the speed-force sang in her system as she swung – but the stranger caught her ankle before the kick could connect, holding Nora’s outstretched leg in place. Shocked by her audacity, Nora stared and tried to pull her leg free, but the other woman had a surprisingly strong grip.

“Nice to meet you, XS,” the woman said. “I’m Jesse Quick.”

An unfamiliar speedster shows up at S.T.A.R Labs, and Nora’s keen to prove she can take her down. When it comes to Jesse Quick, she might’ve got more than she bargained for.

Nora was playing on a Gameboy in the staff lounge when the alarm went off.

Her mom had brought it to her earlier in the afternoon. It was a slow day with no bad guys or rogue metas on the loose, and Nora was bored, doing endless laps of the speed-lab just to kill time. Her dad was at the CCPD catching up on paperwork; after one too many attempts to explain how archaic the precinct’s systems were compared to how they were in the future, which had culminated in her trying to give her dad’s computer an upgrade and almost blowing it up, Nora had been banned from ‘helping’ for the foreseeable future. So not shway.

“Whoa, easy tiger,” Iris had called as she entered the lab. “You wanna slow down for a sec?”

“I’m bored,” Nora whined as she skidded to a stop in front of her, making her mom’s hair fly crazily like she was caught in a gale. “What on earth is it you do around here when there’s no bad guys to fight?”

“It’s called working,” Iris said mildly. “It’s how we keep a roof over your head.” But she didn’t look mad. “Come on,” she said. “I have something to show you.”

An offer like this usually meant good things, so Nora eagerly bounced over to the desk and perched on it, swinging her legs. She knew it was kind of lame to get so excited over looking at old photo albums and flicking through her parents’ yearbook, but there was so much stuff in those things that hadn’t made it to the Flash museum. After years of family history being walled off, a little thing like a photo of her dad hanging out in the cortex in the Flash suit still hadn’t lost its novelty.

What Iris produced, though, wasn’t a photo or a piece of high school memorabilia. It was a weird plastic square. Nora took it and turned it back and forth, before discovering that it opened up to reveal a tiny screen.

“It’s called a Gameboy,” Iris told her. “One of the OG handheld games consoles. It belonged to your dad. We used to fight to the death over this when we were kids.”

“Shway,” Nora breathed, pressing buttons until the screen lit up, bathing her face in light. “It’s so old. It’s like something from the stone age.”

“Ouch,” said Iris, but she was grinning.

“Sorry,” said Nora. “But you have to admit the graphics are terrible.” She looked down at the shapeless blob of pixels that was supposed to be her avatar and shook her head in amazement.

“Oh, for sure. Even in 2019 it’s a little dated. Still fun, though. It might give you something to do around here; you don’t want to tire yourself out by running around all day. If there’s an emergency, you might need your speed.” Iris nudged her. “And between you and me, if you can beat your dad’s high score then you have to promise me you’ll rub it in his face. I never managed to beat him and he’s never let me forget it.”

“Challenge accepted,” said Nora, already mashing buttons.

She was lying on her back on one of the sofas in the lounge, trying to manoeuvre the little Mario-blob across a maze of green pipes, when the familiar sound of alarms made her jump out of her skin. Immediately forgetting the console, she sat bolt upright and put her finger to her ear to activate the comms unit. Wearing it 24/7 was overkill, she knew that – but it made her feel close to the rest of the team, hearing their voices in her ear whenever she needed them.

“Guys, what’s happening?”

“We’ve got some unexpected activity in the breach room,” said Cisco. “But –”

“I’m on it,” said Nora, sprinting downstairs.

She flew through the corridors, stopping for just long enough to grab her suit and throw it on – no bad guys were catching her unmasked – before skidding into the room where the breach pulsed and flickered in the centre, its blue going brighter.

“Okay guys, what am I looking at?”

There was a crackle in the comms, but nothing clear. Frowning, Nora tapped her earpiece, but there was only static.

“Guys?”

The breach yawned like the maw of a gigantic beast. Nora threw her arm up to protect her face, and then a figure leapt out of the maelstrom and landed lightly in the centre of the room. It was a young woman around her age, wearing a red and yellow suit with a mask over her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

Nora didn’t waste a second. When it came to masked intruders, her policy was ‘punch first, ask questions later’ – and with that in mind, she launched herself at the stranger, lightning crackling all over her body as she drew her arm back in preparation to punch.

When she tapped into the speed force, Nora was used to everything around her moving as slow as glass, their motions almost imperceptible. She wasn’t expecting the woman to turn her head and look at her at a perfectly normal speed, like Nora was an interesting specimen under a microscope.

The stranger’s hand came up, catching Nora’s fist in hers and stopping it mid-swing.

Frozen with shock, Nora stared at her. Her lightning flared, and an answering yellow blaze illuminated the other speedster, crackling in her eyes.

“Who are you?” Nora demanded.

“I could ask you the same question,” the speedster said, and swung a punch with her free hand.

Nora intercepted it in time, but only just. They broke apart and she backed off to a safe distance, wary all of a sudden. She’d never fought another speedster before, though she’d known it was a possibility – there were so many of them. Casting her mind back, she tried to remember what her dad had told her about battling someone whose abilities matched hers. Without her natural advantage, it would be like fighting with a hand tied behind her back, and although she’d taken her turn with a punch-bag and taken some self-defence classes gifted to her by Papa Joe on one long-ago birthday, she wasn’t awesome at fighting. Her speed was what gave her an edge.

“I’m surprised to see another speedster around here,” the stranger said, circling Nora with a toss of her head that made her pony-tail fly. “Guess I shouldn’t be. It seems like there’s a new one every year.”

“Bad news for you,” Nora said. “That means we know how to beat them.”

A grin broke out on the other speedster’s face. “Well, you’re welcome to try.”

That smile did distracting things to her, and she didn’t like it. Now would be a really awesome time to turn off the switch. Knowing her family history of flirting with villains – her mom still liked to tease her dad about his crush on Captain Cold, which he denied with a blush – she supposed it made sense that she’d be attracted to overconfidence and evilness in equal measure, but right now she needed to focus.

She flew at the other speedster and tried to jab her in the ribs. The other woman dodged and aimed a punch to the face that Nora ducked. Crap, she’s fast. As soon as the thought had occurred to her, Nora rolled her eyes at herself. Duh.

They exchanged a flurry of blows, most of which didn’t land. They were pretty evenly matched, which did good things for her ego. Her plan was to wrap the woman’s pretty brown hair around her fist and yank, knowing that her own shorter hair protected her from a similar attack – that was half of why she’d cut it off – but she couldn’t get close enough to get a good grip.

They both backed off, sizing each other up again. Nora found that despite her instincts, she was enjoying herself more than she’d like to admit – and judging by the way the look on the other woman’s face, she wasn’t the only one.

“Maybe you should introduce yourself,” said Nora as they circled one another.

“You first.”

“They call me XS,” said Nora, and went for a super-speed roundhouse kick.

“Nice to meet you, XS,” the woman said. “I’m Jesse Quick.” And she yanked Nora off her feet.

Nora went down hard with a yelp of shock, landing on her ass. For a moment she lay there staring at the ceiling with the breath knocked out of her, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Then a face appeared overhead. Jesse Quick was standing over her with a self-satisfied expression.

Nora was going to wipe that smug look off her face. Lightning crackling, she prepared to launch herself at Jesse –

“Nora, stop!”

Barry leapt between them, arms outspread as if to hold them back from one another. Nora’s heart crashed into her ribcage. He wasn’t wearing the Flash suit.

“Dad, your mask –”

“I’m sorry, did you just say Dad?” Jesse demanded.

“Stand down,” Barry told Nora. “We know her, okay?”

“We do?” said Nora.

Slowly, she picked herself up off the floor. She was sore from the beatdown in more ways than one. With her dad still standing between them, she took a second to get a proper look at Jesse Quick in her red and yellow suit – form-fitted, as all their suits were, for better aerodynamics. Compact, but softer than all the male speedsters Nora had encountered, a body more like her own. Still lithe from all the running, but with curved edges.

Removing her mask, Jesse looked at her with bright, interested eyes. Nora’s stomach gave a lurch. Uh-oh, said a voice in the back of her head. Jesse was cute.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Jesse said, eyes fixed on Barry.

“Yep,” he said, lowering his hands. “It looks like I do.”

The explaining took time. Understandably. It wasn’t exactly a normal situation. She hadn’t really considered what a weird story it was until she’d listened to her dad trying to explain it, with Iris cutting in at regular intervals whenever he left out anything important – but given that she already knew all the details, she wasn’t really listening. There was something a lot more interesting that had caught her attention.

Nora found her gaze kept wandering back to Jesse. The curve of her spine as she leaned against the desk, the way the light caught her hair as she tucked it behind her ear, the sparkle in her eye. It was the first time she’d gotten close to another speedster who wasn’t family, and she was trying to commit all of her to memory, like a fascinating science project or a new Flash story she hadn’t heard.

Jesse looked up and caught her staring. Feeling her cheeks warm, Nora gave her a sheepish smile before looking down at her feet. Jesse’s look lingered, and when Nora looked up again the other woman was still watching her. Seeing she had Nora’s attention, Jesse looked up and down Nora’s body in a clear once-over before her lips curved and she looked away again, returning her attention to whatever Barry was talking about. Nora turned her head and hid her smile in the collar of her jacket.

She’d thought she was being subtle, but apparently not so much. Iris caught her eye and raised her eyebrows encouragingly. Nora shook her head and looked away, but Iris coughed and flicked her eyes at Jesse again. Her meaning was clear: talk to her!

Nora rolled her eyes. Mom!

Iris gave her another look.

If she didn’t do something soon, there was a real danger that her mom might try and do it for her. The only thing more embarrassing than her ridiculous crush was the idea of her parents trying to matchmake on her behalf, so Nora cleared her throat and took things into her own hands.

“So, Jesse… do you guys have Big Belly Burger on your Earth?” she asked casually.

“We sure do. It’s one of my main food groups.”

“Me too! Do you want to head down there and grab lunch? I’m really craving their fries.”

“Sounds awesome,” Jesse said.

“Great idea, I’m starving,” said Barry.

“Uh,” said Nora.

“Babe,” Iris said.

“What?”

“I think Nora and Jesse need a little girl time.”

“Girl time?”

She gave him a meaningful look that slid off him like water off a duck’s back. For a few seconds they stood having one of their wordless conversations, Iris raising her eyebrows progressively higher while Barry continued to look bewildered. Eventually, Iris nodded at Nora and then at Jesse and gave Barry her most meaningful look yet, and finally things clicked.

“Oh,” he said. “Right. Girl time. Got it. I mean, we wouldn’t wanna cramp your style or whatever…”

He gave actual finger guns, and for the first time in her life, Nora experienced what it was like to be embarrassed by her father. She resisted the urge to hide her face.

“Did you just say ‘cramp our style?’” Jesse said incredulously.

“He’s trying to do the Dad thing,” Iris said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll get him out of your hair.”

Ignoring Barry’s protests, she steered him out of the cortex, giving Nora a wink on the way out.

“Well that was super weird,” Jesse said.

“Yeah,” Nora said, putting her hands in her pockets. “I should probably mention that I’m sorry for trying to kick your ass and all. I kind of thought you were evil, so…”

Jesse shrugged. “That’s okay. Better to be cautious, right? And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for actually kicking your ass.”

“You caught me off-guard,” Nora acknowledged. “But I could totally take you.”

“That’s fighting talk.”

“You bet it is.” She paused and ruefully massaged her shoulder. “But we might have to take a rain check on the rematch. I’m still a little sore from the first round.”

“Aww,” Jesse said playfully. “You want me to kiss it better?”

Fireworks went off in Nora’s head. YES! Her gay brain yelled – but common sense quickly reined it in. There was a pretty good chance Barry and Iris might still be lurking around the corner listening in and the last thing she needed was for her parents to catch her making out with a sexy speedster lady in the middle of the cortex.

“Maybe later,” she said.

“I’ll hold you to it.” Jesse rolled her neck. “Come on; it’s Big Belly Burger time. I’ll race you.

Without warning, she rocketed down the corridor like a bullet from a starting pistol, leaving the air tingling with static and the afterimage of lightning flickering in her wake.

“Hey!” yelled Nora as she flew after her.

It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to running with other speedsters by now, but she’d known for a while now that her dad was going easy on her. It made sense that he’d be faster; he’d been running longer, training harder, had years of experience she didn’t – but they both pretended she was almost a match. Jesse Quick, however, had no qualms about showing her just how outclassed she was. It was refreshing to run with someone who wasn’t scared to show they were out of her league.

Jesse turned to glance over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue. Laughing, she piled on the speed and left Nora in the dust.

Grinning, Nora pushed herself harder. There was no way she was catching up, but she was damned if she wasn’t going to try.

Big Belly Burger was a good call. It was cheerful enough that she could pretend they weren’t on a kind-of-date, loud and bustling and full of chatter so that her heart stopped buzzing speedster-style and her stomach actually stopped doing backflips for long enough to let her eat. Jesse ate her fries one at a time, waving each one around as she talked like she was conducting a miniature orchestra and dipping it in her milkshake before she ate it. Nora, who had been ridiculed her whole life for thinking fries and vanilla shake was a good combination, was kind of obsessed with her. There was this energy she gave off, a kind of effortless confidence that Nora felt like she’d spent her whole life chasing. After discovering her speed she’d unlocked a side of herself she’d never known was there, but she felt as though it had come with an extra helping of uncertainty. All of a sudden she had become unknowable, with a new set of abilities she barely knew what to do with and, until recently, a mentor who could only teach her by proxy from within the walls of a cell. She felt like a teenager again, trying to figure out everything all at once – her speed, her weird new family dynamic, her relationship with the father she’d never known who was only a few years older than she was. Jesse looked like she had it all figured out, and Nora found herself once again with the quandary all queer girls faced: did she want to be Jesse, or be with Jesse?

Both, her brain supplied helpfully. Both is good.

“So you were born a speedster? Not made?” Jesse shook her head. “That’s so crazy. I can’t imagine growing up like this. You must have been a real handful.” She dipped a fry in her milkshake. “You must have had all these years to develop your speed. Look at what your dad’s like and he’s only been like this for what, five years? I can’t even imagine what kind of crazy shit you can do.”

“I wasn’t born with speed, actually,” Nora said shyly. “I mean I was, kind of – but I couldn’t access it. I didn’t know I was a speedster until recently. I’m still getting used to my powers.”

“That makes sense. It’s a pretty big adjustment.”

“That’s an understatement. …You’ve been doing this for a while, right?”

“Couple of years.” Jesse stirred her milkshake a couple of times before popping the lid off and drinking the last of it, her head tipped back.

“Do you ever get used to it?”

Jesse considered this for a moment. “Kind of. I mean you get used to being fast; your speed becomes a part of you, so it’s hard not to – I think you just get used to things being weird. When I think about it too hard, nothing in my life makes sense. I mean, look at me. I’m sat eating Big Belly Burger in a parallel universe. We don’t even have this milkshake flavour on my Earth – which is an absolute tragedy, because it’s amazing.” She shook her head at the polystyrene cup. “I spent months living in a different universe. After a while it became my new normal – but I still missed home.”

“Yeah,” Nora said. “I get that. I’m from the future and everything here is so different. I love being with my parents – meeting my dad, finally having a good relationship with my mom… when I’m from, we don’t get on so well.” She sighed. “But I do miss home sometimes. I think the worst part is that I can’t talk about it. If I ever try to talk about the place I’m from, everyone around me covers their ears in case it screws up the timeline or whatever.”

“You can talk to me,” Jesse offered. When Nora looked dubious, she said, “Not my Earth, not my future, remember? I won’t tell the fam. No spoilers.”

Nora’s instinct was to decline. But she wanted to talk about it, she realised – the life she’d met behind. The mom who was a stranger compared to the one she had now; the technology she’d taken for granted until she lost it; the museum she’d walked through as a kid and later learned was filled with family history; her college experience and her childhood friends and Lia, who she still missed in a part of her heart that had crystallized, turned sharp and jagged as a geode because she wasn’t allowed to talk about her any more.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.”

The Big Belly Burger employees had to kick them out at closing time.

As two speedsters, they could both put away crazy amounts of food, so it wasn’t like they hadn’t eaten enough to justify the length of their stay – but Nora was still shocked when she realised the restaurant was empty and the staff were starting to mop the floors. The hours had melted away while she and Jesse sat talking, and night had fallen outside.

Jesse had a lot of stories about Barry and as usual Nora drank them in like she’d finally found an oasis in the middle of a dessert, even the ones she’d already heard – the fresh perspective made them new again, like brushing the dust off old heirlooms and finding the shine underneath. But they’d also talked about where they were from, their lives before the speed, setting the universe to rights. A few hours in, Nora had been hit with a realisation: Jesse got it. She hadn’t realised how desperate she was for someone to understand until she’d found someone who did.

“That was fun,” Jesse said as they reached Joe’s front door. Nora was staying with Papa Joe and Mama Cecile to save her back from the sofas in the staff lounge – they were great for napping on, but not so much for long-term sleeping arrangements.

“Yeah, it was,” Nora agreed.

They stood lingering on the doorstep, the knowledge of what was about to happen making the air tingle between them.

“So,” Jesse said, stepping closer and lowering her voice. She laced her fingers with Nora’s and her thumb danced lightly over Nora’s knuckles, the touch setting her skin on fire all the way up her arm. “I think I owe you a kiss.”

“Maybe more than one,” Nora said breathlessly. “You kicked my ass pretty hard.”

“I can work with that,” said Jesse, and she leaned in.

There was a spark as their lips met, static flaring between them. Startled, they both leapt back. Jesse looked so surprised that Nora couldn’t help giggling – and to her relief, Jesse started laughing along with her. Her hand cupped the back of Nora’s neck as she leaned in and kissed her, and Nora reached up to slip her fingers into Jesse’s hair.

They swayed on the doorstep, the kiss never breaking. There was a bump as Nora’s back pressed into the front door, but she barely felt it. All she was aware of was the warmth of Jesse’s body aligned perfectly with hers, her thigh slotted between Nora’s legs. The kiss had started off gentle but before long it became more urgent, and when they finally broke apart with bright eyes, they were both breathless.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come inside?” Nora asked.

“Well,” said Jesse. “If you’re offering.”

Grinning, Nora took her hand and pulled her forwards, and they both phased through the front door and flitted up the stairs silent as ghosts.

The bedroom door closed behind them and they stood in the middle of Nora’s borrowed bedroom, kissing over and over. When Jesse pulled her shirt over her head and it hit the floor, Nora stood and stared for a solid thirty seconds. She was wearing a white bra covered in purple flowers, with a small diamante nestling between her breasts and lacy straps pressed against her shoulders. The colour of the flowers stood out against her creamy skin.

“Is everything okay?” Jesse asked, uncertain for the first time.

“This is probably kind of weird,” said Nora, “but first of all, I love your bra, and just so you’re aware, my underwear is nowhere near as cute as yours.”

“Well,” Jesse said. “Good thing I��ll be taking it off.” Then she pushed Nora back onto the bed.

A little squeak of surprise left Nora’s mouth as she hit the mattress, but Jesse was already on top of her, straddling her as she kissed her, the silk of her underwear soft against Nora’s fingers as she ran her hands down Jesse’s spine and then settled on her waist.

“Have you ever slept with a speedster before?” she asked.

Nora shook her head.

Jesse gave one of those grins Nora was coming to like so much. “Well then,” she said. “This is going to blow your mind.”

There was something soft, warm and heavy pressed against her.

Sleepily, Nora stirred. Her eyes slowly blinked open. The first thing she saw was light brown hair on the pillow beside her that absolutely wasn’t her own. Then she focused. Jesse was lying beside her, blue eyes fixed on hers.

“Morning, sleepy head.”

“Good morning,” Nora said, stretching slightly.

They were quiet for a while, each of them admiring the view. Jesse’s fingertips danced down Nora’s arm, and Nora smiled shyly, ducking her head as a blush touched her cheeks.

“You were right,” she said.

“I graduated high school at fifteen and majored in five separate subjects in college, so I usually am,” said Jesse. “Right about what?”

Nora grinned. “It did blow my mind.”

Laughing, Jesse pulled her in for another kiss, morning breath forgotten.

They were very busily making out when there was a brief knock and the bedroom door immediately opened, with Joe standing in the doorway.

“Hey, Nora, Cecile and I were wondering if you –”

He stopped dead. Everyone in the room had frozen. Painstakingly slowly, as if dealing with an animal who would attack if there were any sudden movements, Nora pulled the duvet higher.

“I can explain,” she said.

“You know what?” said Joe. “I’d actually prefer that you didn’t. I’m going to go back downstairs and whenever you two are ready you can come down and we’ll all pretend this never happened.” Pausing, he said, “Uh. Nice to see you again, Jesse.” Then he backed out.

There was a momentary pause. Nora buried her face in her hands.

“So that happened,” said Jesse.

“Oh my God,” said Nora. “What is it about my family?”

“They’re pretty involved. I’d forgotten what that feels like. It’s kind of nice, actually.”

“Well if you stick around for a while, I’m sure you’ll get a chance to experience it a little more.”

She’d been aiming for casual, but Jesse saw right through her. Her smile was knowing. Embarrassed, Nora refused to look her in the eye.

“I can’t stay for too long,” she said. “I have a team back home, and I can’t leave my city undefended. But I’m sure a couple of extra days wouldn’t hurt.”

Unable to hide her delight, Nora said, “I mean, if you want. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“I’m starting to think you and trouble go hand in hand,” Jesse said, leaning in to kiss her. “But luckily for you, I kind of like it.”

#FSFFWeek20 #FSFFWeek20DaySeven #Day 7 #my fics

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witchy-hobbit · 5 years

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His Wingman was a Monkey (Loki x Reader)

Warnings: nothing triggering, fluff, Tony being himself

Summary: You show Loki the wonders that are video games and it quickly turns into a competition.

I wrote this when I was 15 or so, so please have mercy. Tumblr is formatting it weirdly, so I apologise in advance.

____________________________________

"God damnit!", you exclaimed as you got hit by another barrel. You were playing this game for, well you didn't know, you lost track of time. As you saw ‘Game over’written with pixels on your Game Boy once again, you couldn't help but groan. Why was this stage so god damn hard. You didn't remember it to be that difficult as a kid. You had found your Game Boy yesterday when you were visiting your family and just had to take it with you. And now you couldn't get of this damned thing.

Wondering how the other Avengers were spending their day you rubbed your tired eyes. Tony experimented in the lab and you guessed so did Bruce. Natasha had told you she would be working out so you figured she was still doing so as she always worked out for almost 4 hours. Thor probably raided the fridge again and god knows what Steve and Clint were doing. You had also no idea where Loki was hiding. You weren't too alarmed by not knowing what he was doing. If you had to put Loki's and your relationship in a word it would be 'weird'. Even you noticed that the black haired god was extremely handsome and it's not like you hated him or didn't trust him like the others did (although they came to live with Loki having to work with him together) it was just that he confused you beyond all measures. You understood that he was cold towards the other Avengers but you never offered him anything but kindness and understanding. Sometimes he would stare at you and you just couldn't figure out his look. What did it mean? Did he hate you like the others? You two had had a few conversations and at some point he even told you a little about himself. But some days he wouldn't even look at you once nor did he talk. Did you do something wrong? Was he always like this? And why did you feel giddy when he was near? You knew he was attractive but every time you saw him your knees got weak. Although you were tired you pressed the "start" button again attempting to beat the freaking gorilla which kept hitting you with barrels (Plus distracting me from your thoughts).

You didn't even notice when the frost giant who was occupying your mind walked in. Not even looking up as felt the couch gave in beside you, you immediately recognized the intruder. Maybe it was your magic or maybe you had just developed a Loki radar. You hoped for the first. Trying not to tense up as Loki watched, you continued playing Donkey Kong. With him beside you it got even harder mastering the level and youvalmost got hit by another barrel as he spoke up in his beautiful velvety voice. If younwouldn't already be seated you swore your knees would have turned into jelly. Come on, pull yourself together!, you thought, You're an Avenger. You're not going to faint because of this charming brat.

"What are you doing?"

"Eh, I'm playing a video game. It's called Donkey Kong. It's named after this gorilla and this little man named Mario.", you explained hoping to not sound as nervous as you were.

"Why is the monkey trying to kill the man?", he asked seeming genuinely interested in the topic. It seemed a bit surreal talking with Loki about video games but nonetheless you answered him.

"Well, Donkey Kong here kidnapped this girl, she's kind of Mario's girlfriend, and you play as Mario who tries to rescue her."

"So Mario's the good guy, Donkey Kong's the bad one and this girl is the damsel in distress?"

"Yep, that's pretty much it."

"So how do you rescue the girl?"

"The point of this game is to get to Pauline. But it's not that easy because Donkey here keeps throwing burning barrels at you and you don't know if the barrels will go along the platforms or ladders.", you stated, still playing. He nodded and watched you play in silence.

The fact that he moved closer to get a better view didn't help the situation and youvgot hit again. You sighed and handed Loki your game boy.

"Do you wanna try?"

He took it, inspecting the strange device in his hand and tried himself. And you had to admit for playing Donkey Kong or a video game in general for the first time he was actually pretty good. It didn't take long and he managed to beat the level.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"I spent hours on this level. And even though it's your first time playing you manage to defeat him.", you said as you looked at him in disbelief. He grinned. God, that grin was sexy.

"Natural talent, I guess."

"That's so unfair.", you meant, pouting and he chuckled.

Damn. His chuckle was even sexier.

"If you want I can give you lessons.", he said cheekily.

"No, thank you, sir. I played this game my whole childhood. I'm not gonna get beaten by an arrogant god who likes to brag.", you exclaimed.

"Is this a challenge?"

"Hell yeah!", you claimed and snatched the game boy out of Loki's hand.

"We're going to play the same level and the one who finishes it quicker and doesn't get killed wins."

"Sounds fine by me. But how about we make it even more interesting?", Loki asked.

"What do you have in mind?", you asked carefully not really knowing what to expect.

"The winner get's a wish."

"Alright.", you agreed, already thinking about what you would Loki force to do. You selected a stage, started a timer on your phone and began playing.

You had to admit you were pretty good yourself. And when you finished you were sure of your victory.

"8:44. Pretty good.", Loki commented.

"Yeah, I know.", you replied cockily.

He raised an eyebrow and grabbed the gaming device. It didn't take long and he was finished as well. You stopped the timer.

"Are you kidding me? 8:40. God damn it!"

Looking at him, you could see him smiling that cocky grin of his. You knew you had found it minutes ago extremely attractive but now you just wanted to smack it off his pretty face.

"I guess I won. Mmh, what do I want you to do?", he asked in a teasing tone his face now quite close to yours. Why was his face so close?! What was happening? Abort Mission! Abort Mission!

Right at this moment Thor walked into the living room.

"What are you guys doing?", the blonde god asked. Loki immediately pulled away. And you couldn't decide if you were disappointed or relieved that he did so.

"Nothing, (y/n) challenged me and I, of course, won.", he explained his grin growing even wider while he still looked at you. You sighed.

"Alright what do you wish for, oh great Loki?", you asked sarcastically.

"Mmh, I don't know yet. I think I'll just save this wish for something important."

Great. Now You'll have to wait till this arse decides to voice his wish, meaning that he will probably win any argument in the future. Grimacing, you heard Thor laugh next to you. You hadn't even noticed him sitting down. Loki got aware of his brother's presence as well and glared at him.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"Eh, I actually have. Mr. Starkson asked me to get him something to drink. What is this device you're holding, Lady (y/n)?"

"Then why don't you go?", Loki suggested completely ignoring Thor's question.

"Eh, it's a Game Boy, you can play different games on it.", you explained shortly not wanting to get into detail and anger Loki.

"What did you play?"

"Donkey Kong. I don't think you know it."

"How does this device work?"

You heard Loki groan beside you, as he put an arm on top of the backrest of the couch.

"I don't know, I'm not into technology and stuff", you said and shrugged hoping to end the conversation. As much as you liked Thor he was interrupting your 'Loki and (y/n) time'.

"Why don't you go ask Tony?", Loki interfered trying to get his brother to leave.

Being used to his brother's rudeness Thor walked to the bar and poured a drink for Tony.

"Do you need anything?", Thor asked while adding ice.

"Nah, I'm good. What about you, Loki?"

"No, thanks.", he snarled.

Was it just you or was he grumpier than usual? The only question was if it was because of me or Thor.

It didn't take long and the blond god finally took is leave.

You felt Loki immediately relax as soon as Thor was gone.

So it wasn't me, you noted relieved.

You knew he wouldn't want to talk about it so you just kept silent and both of you dwelled on your thoughts.

After a while Loki spoke up again.

"If Donkey Kong is the villain, why is the game named after him?"

"I don't know. There's already a game named after Mario and Donkey Kong himself is pretty popular. I myself prefer him to Mario actually.

"Despite him being a villain? Shouldn't you hate him?"

"I guess, I've always liked the villains more. Still do."

"Really, do you?", he asked interested.

Not picking up on the meaning your answer could have interpreted as you could feel him stare. And as you returned his gaze you got lost in his beautiful blue eyes. He didn't break eye contact nor did you.On the contrary, his face seemed to get closer to yours. Wait, was he going to kiss you? Inch by inch he came closer. Oh god. Oh god. Oh go-

Your mind went blank when you felt his lips on yours. Your heart pounded against your rib cage and this giddy feeling in your belly grew stronger and stronger. You closed your eyes as Ayou felt Loki's arms around you and you found yourself wrapping your arms around his neck, one hand in his hair. God, that felt so good. You lost track of time. What day was it? Thursday? Friday? You didn't even care. When he pulled away you couldn't help but smile.

"Wow.", you breathed.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment to come.", he said stoking your cheek with his thumb.

Hold on, he waited for this to happen?

My smile grew even wider and you kissed him again with so much force that you knocked him over and were now laying on top of him.

This kiss lasted even longer and was more loving than the first one and hadn't it been for the sudden flashing light that suddenly appeared you probably would have never broken apart.

You gasped when you saw Tony with his phone in his hand.

The bastard took a bloody picture.

"TONY!", You yelled furious and a bit embarrassed that he had to interrupt your intimate moment,"Give me that phone!"

"Nope! I think I won't. You know, I came here to drink but this is way better. Thor said that you're teaching Loki to play Donkey Kong but I see that that wasn't exactly true.", he chuckled, winking, "This is gonna look great on Facebook. And Twitter. And Snapchat. Oh, and Instagram!"

"Don't you dare!", Loki hissed, standing up and trying to get hold of the phone but Tony pulled away.

Before he could run away, you took a hold of it via telekinesis, quickly opening a small portal next to you on the couch and dropping it in. You had to laugh triumphantly when you saw Tony's facial features drop in disbelief.

"(Y/N)! That was a brand new prototype! Where did you teleport it to?"

"The pool on top of our roof, not sorry by the way", you said, a cheeky grin on your face.

"Neither am I", Loki said sitting down again and wrapping one arm around your shoulder.

"Jokes on you, the prototype is waterproof."

He was almost out the door, laughing to himself, when you chuckled.

"Mmh, of course you could go for a swim, Tony. But you'll find the water will be a little bit too hot for you're liking.", I smirked.

The playboy stopped in his track.

"Why what'd you do?"

"Perhaps I've replaced it with scalding hot lava from the pits of Muspelheim. But don't worry the ceiling won't crash down on us. I put a spell around the pool walls."

You saw his jaw clench, discouraged by your gambit.

"Good job, (y/n).", Loki hummed, appreciatively, running his fingers across your arm and making you shudder.

You were so distracted by the look he gave you, you didn't even see Tony's face light up. To be fair, you both thought he had wandered off.

"Although....Oh Jarvis", he sang, startling you, "please upload the picture I took of Loki and (y/n) to all my social medias with the Hashtags #OTP, #DonkeyTheMatchmaker and #ICan'tBelieveHisWingmanWasAMonkey."

"Will do, sir.", said the robotic, metallic voice like he didn't even care. Well, he didn't.

"TONY, YOU'RE SO DEAD!"

#loki x reader #video games #avengers #marvel #fluff #middle earth concoctions

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canna-base · 6 years

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Honest Review of the Pax 3 Handheld Portable Vaporizer by a Chronic Pain Patient

As a fairly recent convert to MMJ, it took me almost a year to lose my love affair with rolling a blunt and suffering the noxious smoke to medicate. Trying to subtly partake of much needed sweet leaf relief was a chore, dodging into the alley next to my home and trying to avoid the gaze of curious kids was proving stressful. It was more the image of their dad smoking than the substance itself, of giving them a bad mental image that allowed them to “smoke” was not good parenting. Plus I don’t want to feel like taking herbal medication is something to be ashamed of.

But a whole 12 months past before I got together the resources (saved!) to afford a decent pocket vape. My requirements were;

Discreet

Easy to use

Didn’t look too “druggy”

Did the job efficiently

Had accurate temperature control

I used to be a cigarette smoker, many moons ago but having never ‘vaped’ I was not sure what to expect. I knew the device had to heat the dry herb to hit the off button on my considerable knee pain and I knew that three light-ish puffs on a ‘joint’ got the job done, albeit with that smokey aftertaste, aroma and fear that a neighbour may smell the err, medication.

So I did some research and decided that a Pax 3 was the ticket, I almost purchased an entry level eBay special but figured that £80+ could be totally wasted (ha!) and I should go with a reputable brand. After reviewing our various recommendations I went and bought a Pax 3 from a local supplier.

Shopping For a Dry Herb Vaporizer

Evapo is a vape shop in Guildford mostly given over to liquid non-MMJ vape-ware, vaporisers, liquids and accessories but there was one cabinet market “CBD” which, given this is the UK, was a subtle clue as to what the cabinet held. The choice was limited to a Pax 2 or a Pax 3. Given that I am an inveterate tech-head I opted for the app controlled Pax 3.

The salesman was a cheerful upbeat sort who talked discreetly but knowledgeably of the features/benefits and what a dry herb vaporizer did. Plus, Evapo had a 15% off deal that weekend which reduced the ticket price from £219.99 to £186.99. Seemed a bit steep for a first time vape purchase, I mean, what if I didn’t like it? What if I didn’t get the relief I am seeking? Hey ho, figured in the name of research it was worth the spend. Five minutes later I exited the proud owner of one spanking brand new Pax 3, and instructions on how to pair it up with the app, more on that in a moment.

Unboxing the Pax 3 Herb Vape

When I got home I opened the box, which is as stylish as the Pax 3 itself, very Apple design led. You slide the box out a sleeve, and it opens with a satisfying resistance provided by hidden magnets. I can see why they get the price they charge.

It contains charger & USB charge cable, cleaning materials (pipe cleaners and pipe brush), a keyring that doubles up as a scraper, an oven like compartment with a holder for concentrates and waxes, a second half-charge oven lid, raised silicon mouthpiece and a stitched material sleeve and of course the device itself. The enclosed documentation is quite slim on any actual operating instructions, but does give you the limited instructions in many different languages. Plus a safety booklet, again, bereft of any instructions but telling you of the many dangers a device like this can inflict.

Once released from its plastic coffin the device is pleasingly heavy in the hand. The heft gives it a solidity, again the comparison to Apple cannot be overstated. It’s solidly built up to a standard not down to a price.

I choose a matt black finish and thus with one click on the top of the mouthpiece, the LEDs stood out like runway landing lights. I set up the device to charge, it already had 3 of the 4 lights lit, and within 20 minutes the remaining light blinked on and we were good to go.

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Pairing the Pax 3 With The App

By the time the charge had finished I was ready to pair the Android version of the app with the device and had gotten to the point where you shake it to pair it. Try as I might my Google Pixel 2 XL running Android Pie (9.0) was just not having any of it, tried different settings on the phone and despite the phone stating it was paired, the app itself refused to play ball. I am guessing this is a Android Pie bug, maybe? I had only installed Pie on the phone a few days earlier so I am guessing app bugs are a distinct possibility. Many of the reviews however also noted pairing difficulties, so perhaps not? Later I downloaded the iPhone iOS app onto my iPad and that not only paired without trouble it also controlled the device well.

First Use and Impressions

Anyway, to the first trial, my ‘herb’ was ground and packed into the oven chamber, it took a relatively little amount, I would say half a single skin joint. I thought this seemed like a very minor amount given that the device allowed for several hits on one fill, but I went along with it. Within a couple of minutes I was ready to go, with a fully charged Pax 3 that was now also fully charged with bud I hesitantly hit the ‘on’ button. The device heats quickly 20 – 30 seconds and the flashing purple LEDs turned green notifying me that the Pax 3 was ready to dose me.

I’d opted for the highest heat setting, I just felt that if I was going to try it then I should really give the Pax 3 a run for its money. I took a tentative first pull. The taste was not what I expected, a floral, greenery taste with a slightly timber smoke edge to it, not burning but that kind of smell you get in a wood on a hot day. I guess that’s the oils and the waxes boiling off their terpenes which give the bud its flavour profile. As the flavour died back and I exhaled it suddenly gave me a taste of coffee grinds, not full on coffee in your mouth but that half smell of roasting you get as you walk past a coffee house.

Very pleasant, very smooth and much nicer than a pull on a ‘Fatty-Boom-Batty’. The specific stock I was smoking is not overpoweringly strong, but does do the job for my pain. As an example I can take a single pull on a one-skinner and have it hit the off button on my knee pain for a couple of hours but leave me focused enough to answer calls, write code and function without the distraction of grinding bone on bone action. I took a second tentative pull, and then thought, screw it, and took two much longer, deeper pulls.

The Pax 3 vs Knee Pain

It was Saturday night and I was feeling like kicking back a bit so wasn’t concerned if I overshot the runway when it came to switching off the red flashing pain klaxon. As per usual the hits took time to kick in, with my usual method of ingestion it takes around 10 minutes for the meds to make their way into my brain and do what it does. Oh-so much better than the mechanised approach that codeine seems to take. Wrapping everything in cling film and preventing you from feeling pretty much anything but the ‘ready break’ glow (US readers Google it, you’ll see how accurate that actually is) that Codeine gives you.

I usually then go make a cuppa, and settle into the sofa with my better half and wait for the pain to roll back and relief to roll in. Well, the Pax 3 definitely delivers, I was starting to feel the effects inside the ten minutes, and all was good. Everything suddenly felt very good with the world, in a way that pain seems to rob you of. Pain adds jagged pixelations to your every move, thought and sensation. It’s like you’re dealing with low resolution images and trying to pass them as 4K cinemascope.

Codeine always took away the ‘jaggies’ but delivered a vaseline smeared lens perspective of the world. All soft focused and fuzzy edged, you felt like the world was a bouncy castle made of marshmallow. However the Pax 3, not only delivered the usual relief but somehow it felt less punchy, like the difference between a $20 bottle of bourbon vs $120 bottle of premium single malt scotch. You can see why the Pax 3 gets the reviews it does.

Controlling Dose with My Second Use

Lets just say 30 minutes later as I am lying on the sofa, totally baked, I tried to have a chat with my other half and ended up giggling away as she laughed at me, not with me. I remained quite lucid, but was just very relaxed by the whole body sedation which is not how my current supply usually hits. The effect lasted at least 4 hours, in fact I went to bed and slept soundly, I usually wake early, 6:30 or 7am, woken by the knee pain, but I overshot that by at least 2 hours. Woke feeling fresh although a little fuzzy but coffee and breakfast sorted that for me.

Therefore I wanted to avoid this with my second use, which was much more controlled, after a little bit of reading online. Just 2 short pulls and the device turned down to a less intense heat at 3 LED lights. I think this might be the sweet spot as the effects again took 5-10 mins to become very noticeable but there was much less of a body sedation, in fact I felt a clarity in my thinking and it just neutralised my pain.

Gone.

Not a trace.

Before medicating I would put the pain at a 3 on our pain chart, far from unbearable but definitely ’nagging’ and niggling at me. So the two hits were a good amount to kill the pain but not dull my entire brain. In fact I would now consider a single pull at 3 lights during a working day. Maybe.

Final Impressions and Overall View

I would give the Pax 3, 5 stars, but I have no other benchmark other than self-rolled all-weed blunts, joints and the occasional bong rip. I feel like I did when I upgraded to my first smart phone. Suddenly I had a computer in my hand and felt like I was ahead of the curve. The Pax 3 is very similar, having previously burnt a tube of rolled up dry herb I now have control and can set the temperature to the exact setting I want and get much more measured doses from my choice of pain meds. The only remaining variable of course is the plant material itself.

I suddenly see that devices like the Pax 3 are invaluable in allowing pain patients to get closer to a proper dosing regimen and if they feel like having a little more fun on a Saturday night, then at least it is a choice. That, for me, is what Cannabis should be about, the choice, the choice of your medication, the choice to choose your own safe pain meds. That it is your body and therefore making a choice of herbal remedy vs the output of an industrialised process, is your right.

I wish I had tried a vaporiser earlier, the Pax 3 is a very good product that does the job without fanfare, but does it stylishly and without announcing to the world you partake. The only small downside was that after I had fiddled about with it, trying to get it to sync with my Android phone, and then using it to heat my herb it got a little warm. Not uncomfortably, or dangerously, but it did warm noticeably, which given its function is not unreasonable, but it got a touch warmer than I thought it would. Put that down to user expectations perhaps, but one to consider. I am exploring a silicon sleeve for it, just to make it the perfect portable medical device.

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The Pax 3 is a total winner and I am very pleased with the value for money and recommend it to you if you are considering using a vape. If you have pain, don’t leave home without it.

Click Here to Order The Pax 3

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