#i think that might've been less the company and more the man

[zerobaselove]

acting homework | kim jiwoong

pairing: actor!jiwoong x costar!reader

genre: suggestive MINORS DNI

word count: 1096

warnings: no smut but it does get suggestive, lowercase intended, not proofread

prompts: 16. "let's kiss and see where this takes us."

notes: this unsurprisingly made my jiwoong problems so much worse LMAO but apologies as this is a little rushed and not my strong suit

"and, cut." the directors sharp voice cut through the air, ripping you and jiwoong out of the immersion of the kiss scene, not that there was much immersion to begin with. with his busy idol schedule on top of acting, you two hadn't actually gotten to meet until today, having done script readings over zoom and speaking in hypotheticals for weeks; so to say it was a little awkward was an understatement.

the director let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head at the two of you, "let's wrap up for the day," he put down his clipboard before walking over to you and jiwoong. "i need you guys to work on your chemistry, we are going for romance not whatever you think this is. you're both better than that and you know it." his words were harsh, but you couldn't help but agree with his statement; you two weren't exactly giving romance, and something had to change.

the director turned on his heel, walking back to his trailer, leaving the you and the taller man standing there, an awkward silence surrounding you. "so," you spoke up, not really knowing where to take your words. thankfully he took the lead, speaking up himself.

"do you maybe want to hang out? off this set, maybe somewhere with less people breathing down our necks." he let out a laugh, you following suit; the tension already lessening, thank god.

"yeah that sounds good, but where is even private around here?" you wondered out loud, you were in one of the biggest and busiest cities in the country. "well i know it's not very romantic but," he sighed, realizing how lame his suggestion was, "we could always go to my group's company building, there's always empty rooms there. and they're soundproof." he winked at you before his serious composure broke, suddenly covering his face in embarrassment of the implications it might've had. it was cute, you weren't used to seeing this side of him, but it made you feel a bit more at ease.

giving a small nod, you gestured for him to lead the way, the two of you making small talk on the way to the parking lot. surprisingly the conversation flowed better than you had imagined and you found yourself enjoying his conversation at the least. "this is me," he gestured to an all black car in front of you, rushing ahead to open the passenger door for you.

"thank you jiwoong." you smiled, hopping in the front seat as your eyes grazed over the details of the car.

a coffee cup for this morning you presume was sat in the cupholder, the other one filled with loose change. instead of the stereotypical fuzzy dice on the rearview mirror, he had a little charm of a butterfly which you thought was quite cute.

"here," he handed you his phone, spotify open already, "you can be in charge of the music." his smile was contagious, you thought to yourself, unable to contain a small smile from spreading to your lips as he looked at you with joy. you had only nodded as you scrolled through his playlists, heading out of the parking lot.

"oh i love this song," he exclaimed as you played something from his liked songs, causing you to laugh. "i hope so, it's from your likes." a sheepish grin took over his face, chuckling lightly before shaking his head, "you make a fair point."

the rest of the drive had been peaceful, light conversation in between faint melodies playing over the speakers. it was nice, he was nice; you had no doubt about that before, but getting to start to see his personality, you totally saw what everyone else saw in him, beyond his good looks.

arriving at what you assumed was the company building, jiwoong rushed out of the car, opening your door for you yet again. "i know how to use door handles, you know" you chuckled, nodding your head as a thank you before following him to the entrance. "what kind of gentleman would i be then?" tilting his head as the sliding doors to the building opened themselves for you this time.

eventually you ended up at what you assumed was a vocal practice room; there was a keyboard sitting in the corner with a desk and chair, as well as a small two seater couch that looked rather inviting after you'd spent your whole day standing. jiwoong sat down first, ushering you over to get comfortable.

"so, what do you want to do, do you want to practice, or?" you rambled on, not noticing the way jiwoong smiled at your string of words.

"well how about," he thought for a moment; he hadn't expected to like you this much, this quickly, but he couldn't stop thinking about kissing you, for real this time. not for the script or the directors approval, just to feel your lips on his. "let's kiss and see where this takes us, yeah?"

you didn't mean to nod so eagerly, but it was too late, jiwoong's smile widening at the idea of you wanting this as bad as he did. his hand came up to the back of your neck pulling you in slightly, your eyes fluttering shut as your heads tilted, connecting in a kiss that you were convinced had caused fireworks to go off around you. this was no match for earlier today, you thought to yourself. you weren't sure what changed but you were sure that you didn't want to stop.

you let one hand rest on his torso as you leaned in closer, parting your lips slightly, letting his tongue lick into your mouth. sure, it was moving a little fast, but you didn't care; he was addicting.

he tugged on your hair slightly, causing you to moan into his mouth which made his head spin more than he had been prepared for. his free hand had found it's way under your shirt, grabbing you at the waist, sending butterflies to your stomach. "do you want me to stop?" he mumbled against your lips, wanting to make sure you were okay with everything. you let out an opposing hum, but that wasn't enough for him.

"i need words love," the pet name made you dizzy, pulling apart for a moment to nod feverishly, "please, continue." your words were whinier than you meant them to be, but at this point you couldn't be bothered to care.

"then let's keep it up."

#zerobaseone #zerobaseonefics #boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet imagines #boys planet reactions #kpop #boys planet drabbles #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #kim jiwoong imagines

[ruubric]

Come, Dance with Me

No warnings. Just fluff, baby. And slightly suggestive. Also, reader is gender neutral.

how scandalous, a hero and a villain showing any kind of rapport, the headlines would go crazy

which is exactly why the two of you keep these meet ups secret

though Dabi might just not want anyone to know he's become fond of you

especially because the meet ups became less about sex and more of you two simply enjoying each other's company

anyways, these meet ups have led you two discovering more about each other

less willingly on Dabi's part

but he ain't too mad about it

"You dance when you're excited."

The young man gives you a seriously unimpressed look that might've deterred anyone else, but not you. Never you.

"Huh?" He says obnoxiously.

"You dance when you're excited.''

He crosses his arms, "I do not."

You roll your eyes, of course he's trying to be cool, even when it's only the two of you in this secluded part of the city at night, he's still trying to keep face. "You totally do. Maybe not in front of other people, but you do it with me."

Dabi gives you an irritated scowl, "I have never danced in front of you."

You hum, "okay, but you have. Maybe you just don't realise."

"If you're just going to be annoying, I'm leaving. I have better things to do-"

"Like dancing?"

He squints at your beaming face that nestles your wriggling eyebrows for a good second before pushing himself off the tree he was leaning against. "Bye, hero."

"Aww, Dabi, you can't be serious," you pout after him.

He merely waves his hand goodbye as he heads toward the city.

"Wait up!"

You dash toward him using your hypermotility quirk, slowing your pace and matching his. "I'll dash you home."

"No, I have motion sickness. You know that."

"I'll be so fast, you wont have time to be motion sick." You proudly poke your thumb to your chest, "they don't call me Zoom for nothing."

"They call you Zoom because you were too uncreative to come up with your own hero name, and you submitted the one that your friend made up for you."

You stop in your tracks, instantly deflating while Dabi walks on.

"You're being so mean to me! Is it because I know your secret or what?"

Dabi stops, calling over his shoulder, "why are you so obsessed with this anyway?"

"I-" damn, this is embarrassing. But it's Dabi, and he probably doesn't care about the little stuff. That's why you're so drawn to him. "I can't dance."

A beat.

The wind softly shakes the trees around you. Crickets chirp happily, and in the distance, the night bustle of the city reaches you like a ghostly whisper.

"Am I supposed to be surprised by that?''

"Dabi!"

He snorts a little, and to most it would've been lost to the wind. But to you, it's as loud as the happy beating in your heart. A small price to pay for humiliation.

"Could you teach me?''

"No."

"Why? You teach me lots of other things," the suggestiveness in your voice cannot be missed.

He scoffs, turning around to face you, "yeah, for my own benefit.''

"That's not true and you know it."

"I can't help but wonder what your self righteous hero friends would think if they saw you begging me to teach you how to dance."

You frown childishly at him, before dashing up to his face, he doesn't even flinch. Which makes you smile a bit, he's used to it and he trusts that you won't hurt him. "And I wonder what your league friends would say about-"

He squishes your cheeks together between his pointer finger and thumb, "I don't have friends."

"So what am I then?"

"An annoyance."

You smirk, or at least attempt to. "Not what you were saying last ni-AHHGH!" He cuts you off, squeezing your cheeks harder and definitely causing some damage to your jaw.

You could easily escape, but what can you say? It's fun when Dabi teases you like this.

"Dabi-"

"You're enjoying this too much," he gently lets go of you.

Is that a bad thing? "I'd enjoy it so much more if you teach me to dance."

He lets out a disgruntled sigh. "I really don't like you."

A few weeks later at your apartment at the dark hour of 3am, you realise that you haven't seen Dabi in a while.

You nervously bite your bottom lip and stare out the window, hoping that you hadn't been too annoying about his dancing thing that he actually decided to stop coming to see you.

Maybe he found another hero to occupy his time with

Hawks?

Dabi does seem to have a thing for super fast heroes

Damn

But then you hear the three timed knocks on a window somewhere in your house, and your heart soars. It's him, using the signal to alert you of his presence so that you don't attack him in haste.

You wait for him from your place in the kitchen.

He soon comes out from the corridor in the direction of your bedroom.

"Dabi," you smile.

"Do you have any ramen? I'm hungry."

"Yeah, I'll make some for you."

You, like the big simp you are, get up and start rifling in your storage unit for your ramen cups. Quite gleefully noticing the little dance Dabi does when your back is turned.

#ruurites˚ʚɞ˚‧｡ #my hero academia fanfiction #mha x black reader #mha x reader #mha dabi #dabi fluff #dabi x reader #dabi x black!reader #gender neutral character #dabi is cute #dabi is touya

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Hi J!

This is my first question after months of devouring your blog which I absolutely adore. I don’t know if you have answered this before. What kind of friend do you think ASR would have been. What kind of dynamic do you think he shared with his friends group in Harvard if he had any?

Hey Anon!

Definitely not what Sheetal described (there were too many conflicts between the Arnav we knew and the Arnav she described). Arnav has never been friendly - not even to his business associates (and those are the people you're supposed to be most chummy with).

The first few episodes is close to what we get of Arnav in his younger days. He's very conflicted, very torn apart, very angry.

But that could be a result of him being back in the country that has given him pain.

He could've loosened up a little in the States because being away from trauma helps. Arnav feels like a guy to know a lot of useful acquaintances but not have a deep friendship with anyone.

Dry humor, intelligent, spoke less. He'd probably be that elusive quiet guy who killed it at classes and majorly kept to himself. His few friends would be similar to him - so he might've made friends who equally hated people and chose to keep to themselves.

The basis for his and Sheetal's friendship/dating is that they were both quiet and kept to themselves.

He definitely was a listener and networked a LOT - he seemed to have started his company during college days itself. And he probably used sports and music (drums) to keep his mind calm.

Arnav doesn't seem like a guy who went to university of explore himself and become more educated. He was a man on a mission. To get everything back.

So I think he pretty much threw himself in to build his business and credibility.

Arnav's life at Harvard could be a mix of strong networks, small circle of introvert friends, a casual date here and there, some sports and music to keep himself focused.

And the reason why I think he didn't have any solid friendships or the best of time in university is because having stable friendships and a good phase in your life changes you. It rubs you off in a good way. Having someone to confide to makes all the difference. But if you don't have someone to confide to, you turn bitter and angry.

Arnav seems to have never laughed, never danced, never shared his thoughts - these are all reflections of an incredibly isolated person. I share a lot of Arnav's viewpoints in life but I know my friends have played a critical role in my life.

The people I find to grow closest as his friends are Akash, NK and Khushi.

Best,

J

#ask #anon #about arnav

[twothpaste]

Sorry if this sounds a bit dumb, but what is Claus’s relationship with Porky in your Intermission AU? How do they view each other and how did they stand and how are they currently standing with each other. I read that part of the fic where Porky goes to Ness and Paula’s apartment and made a scene there and it feels like that’s where Claus is done with him and their. “Friendship”

Aw, man, these two are an absolute trainwreck! Claus n' Porky's relationship was one of the things that sparked the whole AU, truth be told. This premise of taking fantastical events from the games, and translating them into grounded experiences young people often go through irl... What if instead of Porky converting Claus into a brainwashed cyborg supersoldier, the whole thing was literally just an abusive friendship? That's basically the first fic in a nutshell. The more I wrote and thought about it though, the more intricate and sad and harrowing it got. I have so much rattling around in my head about these two, and it's been oozing out of my ears like Cheez Whiz for a year and a half 🫠. I'll put the charcuterie board below the cut:

Intermission Claus and Porky have a lot more in common than you'd expect (I think this is true in canon, too, but that's a whole other post). They were both outta place college freshmen, masking their insecurities with overconfident edgelord personas. They shared a lot of the same interests (video games, Reddit, misinterpreting messages about toxic masculinity in Berserk and Fight Club). They've got a lot of similar baggage, worst of all. Broken families, woes over their emotionally unavailable fathers, mental health problems that sometimes alienate them from their loved ones… Porky appealed to Claus' broken ego, making this guilt-ridden once-neglected kid feel exclusively cool and smart and valued. Porky, an always-neglected kid (with no fucking friends), absolutely relished Claus' earnest company and undivided attention. You'd almost think it could've been good for them. Havin' a mutual confidant to vent their frustrations to, bonding through genuine solidarity. But since Porky is Porky, he doesn't know how to maintain friendships without being a possessive megalomaniac about it. And since Claus is naive and impressionable by nature, he fell for it hook line n' sinker.

He coaxed Claus away from his other friends. Gradually got this dude parroting his vernacular and his bullheaded attitude. Which, of course, made Ness n' pals less willing to put up with Claus. "You're practically my double," Porky might've joked. N' Claus wouldda laughed it up, mistaking it for praise. Porky takes advantage of Claus' emotional volatility. He can rile him up into tirades, or flip him into horrific dissociative states, at a moment's notice. Instead of cybernetic mind-control, it's all the weird ways abusers isolate victims, and re-wire their personality and behavior. Most abusers don't exactly do this stuff consciously - and it's obviously just as unacceptable whether it's conscious or not - but I kinda wanna leave Porky's manipulation up to reader interpretation. Is he delicately pulling strings like a puppetmaster, here? Does he think that's what he's doing? Or is he blindly channeling his parents' behavior, since it's all he's ever known? Maybe all of the above…

There's all these miserable layers to it, like?? How Porky's vendetta against Ness provoked the whole thing. (He drove his first and last best friend away in middle school, never got over it, and now is out to spite him by hoarding their lovable fun upstanding mutual college acquaintance.) How Claus is still frantically trying to emulate his father's masculinity at this stage, and how that's leading him down a dangerous path with Porky. (Trying his very best to forgive a now-reformed Flint for 3 years of griefstricken alcoholic absence - while Porky throws a wrench in his efforts, stoking his righteous anger to keep him bitter and isolated.) How Porky emulates Aloysius almost inevitably, despite hating his father's guts, 'cause after torching his friendship with Ness he was left with no other role models. How Claus yearns for acceptance and approval, and gets this twisted version of it from a guy who treats him like an action figure. How Porky's secretly vehemently jealous of Claus' tight bond with Lucas - 'cause he himself has been self-sabotaging his relationship with Picky for years. How Claus put up with being taken advantage of and dehumanized, 'cause his self esteem is so terrible - but the last straw for him was seeing Porky treat Picky like shit. 'Cause he'd never in a million years even dream of treating Lucas like that. Forgive me if it's a lot, but every bit of it makes me feel like [this].

In the aftermath of it all, I think Porky does realize (deep, deep, deep down) he's ruined what couldda been a really positive friendship for the both of 'em. And he does feel deliriously guilty about it. But he never admits fault. Just blames Ness n' Lucas n' Paula, resigns to hate Claus forevermore, and stews about it endlessly. Even though he knows all it's accomplishing is making him more lonesome and miserable. His Peter-Pan-esque immortal childhood, in Intermission AU, is deconstructed into this sad sick shell of a guy who simply refuses to grow up. (Or confront his guilt, or mature as a person, or apologize to anyone, etc etc…) And his "Absolutely Safe Capsule" is really is just his self-inflicted friendlessness. Maybe he resigns himself to it. If he doesn't have any friends, no one can "betray" him anymore. And he won't have to hurt like this ever again 🥲

Claus, on the other hand, walks away with this erratic mix of anger and pity towards Porky. Which often turns inward - blaming himself for getting so sucked into it, for bein' such a d-bag to his own friends & brother under Porky's influence. Graciously now he's got several absolute real ones he can talk to about it. He ultimately ends up pinning most of the blame on Aloysius (who kinda lives rent free in his head, even though they only met once). But regardless, he can barely stand to think much about Porky. Much less to be in a room with him. Which is a shame, considering they've got at least 2 more years at the same college. I might do more with 'em in the future.

If anyone's interested in these two - aside from Intermission (the fic) (the first one), there's more Claus n' Porky woes in Hunker. Especially [Chapter 20] (which can be read as a oneshot 😉🤐).

#thank you anon! #sorry for writing an essay but once i get started i can't shut up about these guys #intermission au #ask tag

[tenebraevesper]

Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged, Night 9: Salvage Dreams

''What is point of creation? No answer, only nightmares. Cold and lifeless iron death cells, seems we have hearts inside us. Maybe I will scare you too much; Please, I really need to know why. Vicious circle all around me, we can't keep this scary old lie. My old scene, it beckons me, but should we freeze our lives forever, or you'll embrace us all together, to get us all free in the flame.''

 – Salvage Dreams by MiaRissyTV ft. Cheshire (Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator)

xXxXxXx

Sam leaned against the pillow, feeling tired as she checked some notifications on her smartphone. It was late evening, with her and Springtrap having returned home from their investigation at the factory. The animatronic in question was sitting on the other end of her bed, looking just as tired as she was, but also somewhat content.

''So, I guess we have another mystery at our hands,'' Sam said, glancing at Springtrap.

''I'm pretty sure that this mystery is connected to what happened at Ricky's,'' Springtrap replied.

''Speaking of which, we know that a man, a night guard, had been murdered at Ricky's and left at Freddy's,'' Sam said. ''We also know that whoever killed him made sure nobody would find out about it.''

''We also know that someone constructed that animatronic, maybe more, at the factory, but we don't know why,'' Springtrap added. ''There is a possibility that it was the same person, someone who has an interest in robots. Perhaps, they were caught by the night guard doing something which they wanted to keep secret and that is why the night guard had to die.''

''Maybe, but we have no idea what our culprit had done,'' Sam said. ''Also, leaving the body at Freddy's was a smart move, considering how infamous Freddy's is for missing people cases and murders.'' She bit her lip. ''You know, I think this is less about damaging the reputation of a rival company and perhaps more personal, with Freddy's being the scapegoat.''

''The question remains, who would do that and why,'' Springtrap said, frowning. He could still see the twitching endoskeleton and the pleading look it gave him. It wasn't made to kill.

''Do you think that someone is trying to recreate the haunted animatronics?'' Sam asked. Springtrap shrugged.

''Why don't you check the news for any missing children?'' he asked, half-jokingly. It was merely a suggestion, but Sam instantly checked her smartphone, looking at the local news.

''There's nothing. Just a car accident and a burglary on the other side of the town,'' she said. ''There are no reported kidnappings or missing people cases.''

''I see. Even if the night guard's death was covered, a missing child wouldn't go unnoticed,'' Springtrap said, feeling a little frustrated. What exactly is going on?

''I think you were right about the theory that the night guard might've been killed because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time,'' Sam said. ''However, whether the animatronic we saw had anything to do with it, we don't know.''

''Maybe it does,'' Springtrap said. ''I'm not saying that someone would try to recreate a haunted animatronic, but it was sure created with some kind of function.''

''Who knows,'' Sam sighed. ''I think we should figure out tomorrow what to do next.''

''So, I guess my Five Nights trial is over, right?'' Springtrap asked, giving Sam a curious look. ''Unless you want to add an extra Night.''

''As long as you're here, I don't think those Five Nights will ever end,'' Sam replied, noticing Springtrap's sly expression.

''Well, perhaps I could start my own trial with you,'' Springtrap said, his eyes glowing in a very faint purple. The glow faded, however, when he saw how reluctant Sam was. He actually wanted to let her know that he was just messing with her, and was surprised when she nodded. He sat closer to her, noticing the empty stare she had. ''What happened?''

Sam took a deep breath, speaking in a heavy, bitter tone.

''Remember what I told you about my former friends?'' She looked at Springtrap, who nodded. ''Even though I ghosted them, they were still trying to be a part of my life. I had to endure two years straight of them switching between being my best friends and being bullies. That was two years of psychological torture, where they would switch between trying to be nice and friendly and calling me a horrible person and blaming me for everything that went wrong.''

''That's incredibly cruel,'' Springtrap muttered, torn between trying to comfort her and letting her have some of her own space. One thing he hated about himself was that, despite what he said, he had some trouble connecting with people on an emotional level. He understood how Sam felt and what she was going through, but he felt he lacked the empathy any other decent human being would feel in such situation.

''They would get more aggressive the more I ignored them,'' Sam continued, with Springtrap noticing that her eyes were sparkling. ''Instead of kicking and punching me, they would send me messages over social media or something similar. Then, there was this…'' She trailed off, choking up. Her eyes were tearing, with her wiping them away.

''Sam?'' Springtrap lifted his hand, wanting to place it on her shoulder in a comforting manner, but something stopped him. Sam shook her head.

''They set me up with this older guy. It was supposed to be some kind of prank,'' she said, clenching her fists and shaking. ''I had no idea what was going on. I had no idea who he was. All I knew was that a stranger appeared in front of my door, while it was evening and I was home alone, screaming at me for standing him up and threatening me for lying to him. I was so scared…''

Tears were flowing down her cheeks, with her gasping and wiping them away. Springtrap wished he could do more for her. Rage was growing inside him at the thought of seeing Sam suffer like this.

''He believed I was in on the prank, even though I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. Luckily, I managed to lock the door, because he attempted to break in and show me why people shouldn't mess with him. I-I thought I was going to get h-hurt or worse,'' she added. ''The next day, a girl in my class told me how someone made a fake profile of me and catfished the guy. I had deleted all of my social media before that, so I had no idea what was going on. Nobody knew who did that, but I already had an idea. However, nothing could be p-proven, since they had already d-deleted the fake profile.''

She broke down crying.

''Sam,'' Springtrap muttered, reaching for her shoulder, only to look back in shock when she recoiled from his touch. ''Sam, I'm sorry.''

''No, it's not you…'' Sam shook her head, wiping her tears and taking a deep breath. ''I'm such an idiot.''

''No, you're not,'' Springtrap told her, only to be cut off by Sam.

''Yes, I am,'' Sam replied in a firm tone. ''I knew how toxic they were and despite that, I felt that I needed to be part of that group. There were times I blamed myself, thinking I was indeed somehow at fault and that I was a horrible person.''

''Sam, you're in no way a horrible person nor an idiot,'' Springtrap told her in a calm, comforting tone. ''You simply wanted support, but instead had to go through something horrible that scarred you.''

''To be honest, I have struggled with low self-esteem and anxiety, and even depression, after I ghosted my friends. I did tell myself that I could do better, but I only found myself locking up in my room more and more,'' Sam said. ''I didn't want to go out anymore because I was afraid. I felt that I couldn't trust people anymore, even though I really wanted to trust someone. I managed to somehow reconstruct my life and went out, bit by bit, but sometimes, I would still hear their voices, telling me how selfish I was or that I did something that made everyone hate me.'' She took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. ''I knew I needed to move on, and I figured I would be better off without any friends than having even one toxic friend.''

''You sure felt incredibly lonely,'' Springtrap muttered, with Sam nodding. He sighed. ''Sam, I don't think you're better off with me as your friend.'' He noticed her questioning look. ''You know what I did to my only friend, to Henry.''

''Yeah,'' Sam said in a quiet tone. ''That went far beyond petty pranks.''

''You know, lately I have been wondering what Henry might think about this whole thing,'' Springtrap said.

''I think he'd probably try to incinerate you again,'' Sam said. Springtrap lowered his head, chuckling softly, and looked at Sam with a smug expression.

''True,'' he said, his eyes glowing purple. ''Still, I have returned, despite all of Henry's efforts.''

He saw Sam's unnerved look as she stared back at him. She looked a little pale and was still shaking. Springtrap realized that he messed up and, instead of comforting her, made her even more upset. This was not what he had in mind.

''It doesn't matter,'' he said hastily, trying to calm her down. Sam shook her head.

''It seems like it does,'' she said, narrowing her eyes. ''Remember what I said? Whenever your eyes start glowing, it means that you're excited or aggressive. In other words, you become a danger to other people.''

''Sam, I-'' Springtrap cut himself off, realizing that Sam would only get upset if he made up an excuse in order to calm her down. After all, she only trusted him because he was completely honest with her. He sighed. ''Sam, I know I said that I'm a dangerous person, but I mean no harm to you. However, I cannot say the same for anyone else.'' He clenched his fists, the purple glow in his eyes intensifying. ''This is something that won't change.'' He then glanced Sam. ''It still surprises me that out of all people, I am the one you have chosen to trust. Were you really that desperate to have someone to talk to?''

''Yeah, kind of,'' Sam admitted. ''I'm a mess.''

''I think that we're both a mess,'' Springtrap said, with Sam smiling a little, her pale cheeks regaining some colour.

''Isolation really screws with your head, doesn't it?'' Sam said, with Springtrap nodding. ''So, what was that about a possible Night 6?''

''It depends on whether you already know what you would like to do,'' Springtrap replied.

''To be honest, I don't,'' Sam said.

''May I suggest something?'' Springtrap asked, with Sam nodding. ''I think we should go to Ricky's tomorrow. After all, this is where the mystery had started. Maybe we could find out more.''

''Okay,'' Sam said, yawning. ''Sounds like a plan.''

Springtrap then stood up, walking over to the door and glancing back at Sam, who had lied down on her bed. He turned the lights off.

''Good night,'' he said, only to hear a barely audible ''Night'' from her. He then exited the room, closing the door. Leaning back against the door, he closed his eyes, as if trying to calm himself down.

Once he opened them again, they flared purple.

xXx

Scrapes were heard, sounding as if a caged animal was trying to break free. It begged him for attention, for the release from its miserable prison. The endoskeleton twitched again and again whenever he would come closer to it. He frowned, staring at it with a look of dissatisfaction.

He then walked over to the table, taking something long and metallic – a crowbar. He weighted it in his hands, taking a swing in order to test it. The endoskeleton started to only twitch more. He then turned to the pitiful mess of metal and wires.

''Shhhhh…'' he hissed. His tone of voice wasn't comforting anymore, as he felt that the twitching of the scared robot was making him only more frustrated. It was already annoying making it work again, but he felt now that he had no use for it.

''You aren't good enough,'' he whispered and swung at the endoskeleton, tearing its head off cleanly. A clanking sound echoed through the room as the head fell down, the glow in its eyes fading. ''You're a failure.''

xXx

My eyes are still glowing purple.

Springtrap was lying on the couch in the guest room, looking at his reflection in the window. He wasn't really unsettled by having his eyes suddenly turn purple, and he had figured that it would fade away eventually and return to the normal silver and green. He lied down, looking past his reflection and at the starry sky.

It had been a long day for both him and Sam. He still had a little trouble believing that Sam wanted him to stay here, but he was glad about that decision. He wasn't really sure whether he could even call this place his new home, but he could get used to that idea.

However, what he was actually looking forward to was the feeling of satisfaction whenever he saw Sam smile. Having spent what seemed to be an eternity in isolation, he understood well how she felt. The feeling of loneliness could drive people crazy, making them desperate enough to do anything to just have some kind of company. While Sam seemed to be able to handle herself, being lonely sure did take a toll on her. Even though there were still things he wasn't sure about, keeping her happy and content was one thing he was certain he would do.

So, what do you say, Henry? What is your opinion on me trying to make someone happy for once?

It did frustrate him a little that he couldn't talk to his old friend. There were a lot of unsaid things he wanted to talk about, but he knew that there was nothing he could do now. Henry was gone, and so were Michael, Sammy and Elizabeth. All the people had a connection to had perished thanks to what he had done.

But, Sam won't. I won't let that happen to her.

He was aware that Henry probably wouldn't approve of their friendship and, frankly, he didn't care. However, he knew that his old partner certainly would not approve of what he was up to now, especially since it also involved Sam.

There is still something I need to finish.

xXx

Sam stretched her arms, holding her smartphone next to her ear and walking downstairs, towards the kitchen.

''Yeah, I'm fine,'' she said, yawning and listening to her mother. As she walked into the kitchen, she saw a fresh batch of pancakes, with Springtrap holding a frying pan. She gave him a questioning look.

''Well, you liked the pancakes I made for you, so I thought I could make them again,'' he replied, with Sam nodding, listened briefly to something her mother told her and then turning the loudspeaker on.

''Good morning, Springtrap!'' Emma greeted the animatronic in a chipper tone, with Springtrap feeling a knot somewhere in the stomach area. He knew that something was wrong, getting a confirmation a moment later. ''I hope you nor Sam are going to do anything stupid today.''

Springtrap felt unnerved by Emma's ability of figuring things out, even though she wasn't here at all. He remembered her warning from yesterday and shuddered, realizing that she wasn't joking.

''Are you some kind of psychic?'' he asked, trying to sound calm, but it was obvious that he was unnerved.

''Actually, I'm just a parent who has developed a sixth sense for figuring out whenever my kid is about to do something I wouldn't approve of,'' Emma replied. ''The fact that you're with her doesn't make me feel less worried.''

Springtrap rolled his eyes, feeling annoyed.

''Don't give me that look!'' Emma suddenly yelled, startling the animatronic, who stepped back, completely freaked out.

How does she know?!

''I think you achieved what you wanted, Mum,'' Sam said, looking a little baffled and having a feeling that her mother was grinning in satisfaction. ''So, when are you coming back?''

''I got a call and I will have to make a little detour,'' Emma said in a regretful tone. ''I'm coming back either tomorrow or the day after.''

''I see,'' Sam said, turning the loudspeaker off, mostly for Springtrap's sake, and quickly finishing the call. There was something amusing in seeing him giving her a look that was a mix of feeling annoyed and unsettled.

''Why is she even treating me like I'm some kind of bratty child?'' he said. ''I'm an adult, certainly a lot older than her, and went through things she couldn't even imagine!''

''True, but your past doesn't help your case,'' Sam replied. ''Also, Mum believes that people should earn her respect instead of demanding it. You should try working on that.''

Springtrap still felt irritated, but didn't say anything and focused on cleaning the dishes by putting them in the dishwasher, while Sam targeted her breakfast.

''Mum also said that you don't have to freak out so much in her presence,'' she added.

''Trust me, I don't want that either, but she's quite good at making me paranoid,'' Springtrap replied as he sat next to her.

''I guess that nothing can be done then,'' Sam said, then grinned. ''In any case, the pancakes you made are delicious.''

''I'm glad about that,'' Springtrap replied, putting his arms on the table, crossing them and leaning his head against them as he looked at Sam. ''Honestly, I'm just waiting for you to ask me something.''

''You still have your mind settled on an extra Night,'' Sam said, noticing his ears twitch and lower. ''If I have any questions, I'll ask you.''

''Okay,'' Springtrap said and sat up. ''Then, we are focusing on Ricky's today.''

"Say, Will," Sam said, taking a bite of her pancake. ''Have you suggested Ricky's because it might give us answers on what happened or because you want to go back to an establishment that is similar to the one you used to work?''

Springtrap kept quiet, looking a little unsure about what to say. Sure, his primary reason to go there was their investigation, but he couldn't deny that he missed the atmosphere at Freddy's. It had been a huge part of his life, after all.

''So, let me get this straight. Aside from being a father, a co-founder of a franchise, an engineer, a manager, a CEO of a company, a night guard and a murderer, you're also a performer at heart,'' Sam said.

''You forgot that I'm also an animatronic,'' Springtrap said. ''Besides, I have already told you that something inside me would change whenever I put the mask on. I always considered myself as the character I performed as, with no one being able to replace me.''

''Considering how you're stuck in this suit, there is indeed no way that someone could replace you now,'' Sam said. Springtrap grinned.

''You have a point there,'' he said as she stood up, having finished with her breakfast and placing the dishes into the dishwasher. He then followed her into the living room. ''We still have a lot of time left before we go, so, is there anything you want to do? Do you want to play a game or something like that?''

''Actually, there is something that I've been thinking about,'' Sam said, turning to him. ''About what I said yesterday, it's…'' She sighed. ''It doesn't matter. I'm over it.''

''Are you trying to downplay your situation?'' Springtrap asked, crossing his arms. Sam sat on the couch, leaning back.

''I just wanted to say that my problems aren't as bad as yours, and that I feel that I was just overreacting,'' Sam said, looking up when Springtrap leaned against the couch, giving her a look of concern.

''Sam, you weren't overreacting and I don't think that your problems were less bad than mine,'' he told her. ''What happened affected you more than you think. Therefore, if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you.''

''I'm sorry for pushing you away,'' Sam said in a quiet tone.

''It's fine,'' Springtrap replied. ''You felt vulnerable and uncomfortable at that moment and you just wanted your own space. I understand that. Although, I am curious whether Emma knew about this?''

''I didn't tell her anything, but she had probably figured it out once I started to lock myself up in my room,'' Sam said. ''She didn't say anything, though. I guess she wanted to let me handle it by myself and assumed I would ask her for help if I had trouble dealing with it. She did tell me several times that I should go out and make some new friends.''

''I sincerely doubt she a haunted robot in mind,'' Springtrap said, with Sam chuckling.

''It's still better than nothing,'' she said, with Springtrap stepping back, grinning as he crossed his arms on his back. There was a faint glow of purple in his eyes.

''I am certainly a better option than your former friends,'' he said in an assuring tone. ''Don't worry.''

''There is something I want to ask you, though,'' Sam said. Springtrap's ears lowered, although he had already expected that.

''Okay, what is it?''

''I'm curious about how you feel about being an animatronic,'' Sam said, with Springtrap tilting his head.

''Hadn't we already covered that?'' he asked.

''We kinda did, but I'm curious about your experience before and after becoming the character you used to perform as,'' Sam replied. ''You said that you already liked the idea of being Spring Bonnie aka Springtrap.''

''True, but to be honest, I haven't really thought about it. I just accepted my new existence,'' Springtrap said, rubbing his wrists absentmindedly. After being trapped inside the suit, all he could remember was the agony he felt as he experienced a slow death. After his soul was attached to the suit, there had been a surge of satisfaction once he realized what he had achieved. However, he hadn't really payed much thought to the whole situation and focused on how to take advantage of his new existence. ''It did feel a little strange, though. While I was still alive and would wear the springlock suit while performing, I had to be careful to not trigger the spring locks.''

''After all, there had been a few times when you had seen the aftermath of that,'' Sam said. Springtrap nodded, the purple glow in his eyes becoming stronger.

''Despite the danger, I knew how to handle the suit, different than the other employees,'' he added. ''They were always careful with it, while I managed to move around more easily. It certainly did baffle some of them when they realized that. However, they didn't dare to move around more than necessary.''

''Considering how you and Henry built it, you obviously knew how to wear it without triggering the spring locks and getting crushed by them. Everyone else had Phone Guy's instruction tapes,'' Sam said, watching as Springtrap suddenly took a step forward and bowed gracefully.

''Nevertheless, death has its advantages,'' he said, giving her a smug grin. ''There are no restrictions and there is nothing I have to fear. Despite having my soul trapped inside the suit, I had gained more freedom than I ever had.''

''Unlike your victims,'' Sam said, watching as he went quiet, the smug expression vanishing. His eyes were still glowing purple.

''They have achieved their freedom,'' he said. ''They're gone.''

''That may be true, but what I'm curious about is how much control their souls had over the animatronic AI,'' Sam said. ''You said that you had to overpower the Spring Bonnie AI to take control over the suit, so I'm wondering who really was in control of Freddy and his friends, or who exactly controlled Circus Baby.''

Springtrap gave her a curious look, quite interested into the direction this conversation was going.

''What do you think?'' he asked, crossing his arms.

''I believe that the struggle is harder the more advanced the animatronic AI is,'' she said. ''Freddy and his friends were following their programming, with some direction of the children's souls, although the souls weren't able to take control of the animatronics. Had the souls been completely in control or taken over the AI, I believe that they would've been able to enter the hidden safe room instead of experiencing an error.''

''There's also the fact that you're talking about children's souls. They never knew what they were really doing, didn't they? My situation was completely different. Not only did I know what I was doing, but, as an adult, I could handle the situation in a more efficient way,'' he said, his gaze softening. ''Concerning Elizabeth and Circus Baby, it seems that the soul and AI have merged. When I met her as Scrap Baby, Elizabeth was following the AI's programming, which was to kill.'' He frowned, closing his eyes in frustration. ''Yet, I didn't care. Thinking about it, I never understood how souls really work and I only knew that they could stay attached to metal.'' He opened his eyes, which flared purple as he looked at Sam. ''I did understand how fragile life was and I had searched for a method to make my stay, and everyone else's, here more permanent. Once it worked out, all I had to do was to give into my bloodlust.''

''If it were possible and you had the choice, would you want to become human again, rather than an animatronic?'' Sam asked. Springtrap noted the sincere and innocent tone in her voice, feeling that she was honestly curious about his choices and decisions. He felt that it was quite interesting that she managed to bring up things he never really thought about or payed much attention to, as he believed that it wouldn't serve him any purpose.

''I have already told you that I'm fine the way I'm not,'' he said.

''Okay, but what if that weren't the case?'' Sam persisted. ''If you were still alive, would you try to figure out how to bind your soul to the animatronic you grew attached to?''

Springtrap remained silent for a while, with Sam wondering whether he really had second thoughts about his decision. He then shook his head.

''I think I still would try to do that,'' he said. ''While I may be saying this because my soul is already attached to an animatronic, I still believe that, if I were alive, I would still do the same.''

''But whether you would or wouldn't go murder people to achieve that goal or satisfy your bloodlust remains uncertain,'' Sam said, with Springtrap nodding.

''To be honest, sometimes I feel as if all what happened before getting trapped inside this suit was just a dream,'' he said. ''The hallucinations don't help it either. Sometimes, they are memories of my former life, but sometimes, I have no idea what I'm experiencing. It's not a memory or a delusion, but something completely different.''

''Maybe you have trouble with your memory,'' Sam suggested.

''I think I know how to tell the difference between a memory and whatever I'm experiencing, and I'm fairly certain that there is something else going on in my head,'' Springtrap said.

''Do you think that it's the Spring Bonnie AI trying to tell you something?'' Sam asked.

''I doubt that. I haven't sensed the AI acting up at all,'' Springtrap replied. ''It seems like it's just me inside this suit.''

''I wish I could somehow help you with that,'' Sam said.

''You're already doing a lot for me, more than I had anticipated,'' Springtrap replied, sitting next to her.

''Yeah, it is a little strange that I'm still here and talking to you,'' Sam said.

''You mean the fact that you're talking to a dangerous murderer and still alive despite that,'' Springtrap said, his eyes glowing purple. He looked worried.

''Kinda,'' Sam said, with Springtrap feeling that there was more to it. ''I am not really afraid of you, but I do feel sometimes a little unnerved by your presence.''

Springtrap lowered his head. He had already expected her to tell him that and he felt bad about it. He wanted to make her feel comfortable, but it was obvious that that would be hard, if not impossible, to achieve.

''I'm sorry about that,'' he muttered.

''Remember what happened when we first met?'' Sam said in a dark tone. ''You basically dragged me into an empty building and threatened me, and the first thing you told me was: 'Do you really think I would let you go so easily? Don't struggle, it'll be over soon.'. I was completely freaked out and afraid for my life. It was as if I was stuck in a nightmare.''

Springtrap stared at her, a little shocked. He was aware that what happened that evening was probably burned into her memory, but he didn't really expect her to quote his exact words back at him. He lowered his head, his eyes glowing in a soft purple. It feels like ages had passed since then-

''I did see you as my next victim,'' he said, clenching his fists. ''I am not making an excuse for what I did, but at that time, I figured that I should just continue with what I had started.''

He suddenly went silent. I was allowed to return and finish what I had started. But, what I did…

''William?'' He opened his eyes, seeing Sam's worried expression. It wasn't the worry and fear he had seen in his victims, but something different. Unlike the children, he wasn't a stranger to her.

''Sam, I'm sorry that I hurt you,'' he said in a comforting tone. ''I don't want to see you being hurt again.''

His eyes were glowing purple and he was aware that he wouldn't achieve much with just apologizing to her, even if he was sincere about everything he said. Not to mention, there is still what I had planned for her. For both of us. His eyes flared purple. Something I had started and now I need to finish.

''William, what's going on?'' Sam asked. Springtrap frowned.

''Sam, I am not trying to atone for what I did, but there is something I need to do,'' he said.

''Does it involve murder?'' Sam asked in a quiet tone, with Springtrap staring at her, a dark, determined look on his expression.

''They have already happened,'' he said.

xXx

It was another busy day, with children and adults trying to enjoy the time they spent at this place. He was moving around the place, weaving through the groups of people, easily avoiding bumping into any of them, despite the fact that he wore a mascot suit. He was already used to it, capable of finding his way through the crowd.

He would occasionally stop, greet parents and their children, sing and dance with them or merely direct them towards the arcades, the animatronics or the counter where they could order something to eat or drink. It was a job he enjoyed, being able to act the way he never would when the mask was off. He was a different person, able to share his feelings with others, but at the same time hiding his true intentions. Once again, he was walking on a thin line, this one being between reality and imagination.

Still, something was missing.

As he walked around, checking on everything, he saw someone familiar looking at the animatronics that were performing on the stage, a teen with brown hair. She seemed to be quite curious about the robots.

She looks lovely today.

He approached her, amused that she didn't even notice him.

''Hello there,'' he said. ''I see you have taken interest in my friends.''

The girl suddenly turned around, surprised to see Ricky staring at her. Suddenly, they got approached by another girl, who took the teen's hand and the two quickly walked away, gossiping about something. The man inside the costume felt a deep sense of dissatisfaction, the feeling of anger rushing through his body.

This wasn't the girl I was searching for.

Links:

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#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story (Masterlist)

#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story #Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged #william afton #springtrap #fnaf #five nights at freddy's

[terrence-silver]

How do you think Terry's father felt about his son growing his hair and wearing it in a ponytail? Do you think Terry ever told him about Ponytail?

Hippies are everywhere and they have infected my son. Or have they?

--- A long, aggrieved conspiracy memoir by Terry Silver's father.

No, but all jokes aside, think about it, because speculations are all we have on the subject; basic math, Terry's father must've been born somewhere before even the 50's (maybe during the post-war era, as a member of the Silent Generation), and he'd carry with him the sensibilities and worldviews of someone from decades before the 60's and 70's, mentality-wise and that's just a guess, but it could be a fairly accurate guess. Long hair? Shouldn't the boys returning from the war come back straightened out, as they say? All grown? Hardened? Cleaned-shaved? With military discipline? Decent, strong, firm and encapsulating everything men traditionally should be? Honored martyrs, heroes and diligent workers? Wasn't that the basic promise of sending sons to war and the reward that comes in tow with it? Maturity gained in combat and service to this great nation? That means, no long hair, because everyone with long hair could've represented those slackers who, ironically, didn't go to the war in the 60's. Draft dodges, commies who read Karl Marx on campus and college rats, the way Silver Senior might've seen things. Those no-good, protest sign and guitar tottering, reefer-huffing, unwashed...you know what? Never-mind.

Because I want to amuse myself, could be really funny if Terry's dad expected his son to come home as one thing --- and he came back as the total opposite. Or several levels of opposing things, each one more heinous, baffling, confusing, contradictive and shocking to Terry's, undoubtedly, staunch traditionalist father than the other:

Long hair? Check!

Greased up long hair? Check! Maybe he can forgive the grease. James Cagney had grease in his hair too.

A strange, newfound interest in martial arts? Check!

Tattooed out...like a common sailor? Check!

Odd trips to Korea to hone newfound hobby? Check!

Bankrolling a friend's...dojo? What's a dojo?

What is a Gi? What is Tang Soo Do? What is anything?

Cobra Kai?

Does Terry have an earring in his ear? Check!

An aspirational, yet oddly intimate friendship with a military compatriot? Is...that a matching tattoo? A confused check!

John Kreese being an ideally manly man (and everything Silver Senior might've dreamed of his song being?) and an admirable company to keep and yet Terry popping out as the eccentric one, making things even more confusing? Why? Check?

Terry having brought back enough violence and bigotry with him to where Silver Senior can rest assured Terry is not in fact, (gasp!) a hippie, even if he does on occasion look like one? Like that's the worst thing one can honestly be? Check!

Terry being infinitely a puzzle to his own father who can't quite pinpoint him? A part of him could even have been scared at who came back home? Check!

I think that if Terry ever told a family member about the story and the reason why he came home with the ponytail, and the tale behind it wasn't as banal as a mere fashion movement, it could just make him more a mystery difficult to read and might even garner some initial admiration (and whispers), having had this experience and pact of camaraderie forged in combat that ''only a man could ever experience'', serving as a testament to his growth and worth in going from the thin, shy boy he left for the military as, but I also think it could make whatever sheltered, privileged individuals Terry grew up with somewhat distanced from him due to their experiences effectively drifting away from this point on and becoming incompatible (how many of them have been prisoners of war? How many of them watched a person die in front of their very eyes? How many of them have seen the snake pit? Truth is, they'd have less and less to talk and bond about than ever before, and as we've seen, this is something that followed Terry well into his old age; his interactions with individuals of wealth are extremely surface level and blase) and the very thing that should've assured that a young Terry's father will admire him for serving could've turned out to be the same thing that alienated Terry, at least a bit, from his own rich peers, making him The Other --- neither here nor there. Too weird, raw and traumatized for the upper crust 1% he was born among, and too bizarre, high and up there for ordinary individuals.

#terry silver #terry silver's father #terry silver's dad #the silver family #ponytail #john kreese #vietnam #army #military #hair #tw; period typical attitudes #terry silver twig #twig terry silver #tw; social alienation #tw; identity issues #cobra husbands

[wideeyedsmile]

The Notes You Left

(If you have no idea what is happening please see this post here. Yes a couple people asked for this. You have been warned)

ACTUAL Author's Note: Please note that this is a fic within in a fic. The "author" is a gotham citizen who, like many women her age in gotham, ship the Batman with Bruce Wayne, unaware that they are the same person. Any authors notes from Me, the real life author, will be noted as ACTUAL authors notes. "Authors Notes" are part of the plot, make sure to read them. If you leave questions or suggestions I will clarify whether its Me (the Actual Author, aka Kris) or the fictional author that replies. Also: this has not been edited very well and was written on my phone inbetween shifts at work. If the grammar or spelling is bad just lemme know and I'll edit it.

Author's Note: Hey guys! My name is Melanie, this is my first fic on here! I only recently found the Batman x Bruce Wayne shippers online and MY GOD you guys are such good writers! As with most fics, I'm gonna be using the name that others in the fandom have come up with for Batman. I know there are a few names popping up but this is the one I see the most. ALSO: This fic starts about a year and a half after Batman first started popping up so thats why everyone is so young in this! They'll age up as we go! If anyone has any Batman info that I might've missed or that you think could be useful just leave it in the replies! Same goes for the Wayne family!

Chapter 1:

Despite what the media may think of him, Bruce is not, in fact, a complete idiot. Yes, he's super rich, and yes, he definitely gets around, but he's not as stupid as the public seems to think. He's trusted by the board, and thus knows when things at Wayne Enterprises aren't going to plan.

"Mr. Wayne, this is the tenth time that prototypes have been stolen like this from the company. As with the last nine times, we've already involved the police, but we both know how this is going to go. This man didn't leave a trace behind. We have to start an inside investigation or else this will keep happening" Lucius told him. And it was true, no one could find the missing tech.

Well, that isn't quite true.

They could easily find it, they just didn't have a way of getting it back.

10 times. 10 times Wayne Tech prototypes have gone missing. And 10 times the Batman has shown up with very similar tech afterwards.

By this point everyone knew about him. No one knows who he is or exactly what he is. But for a year and a half he's been doing better at controlling Gotham's crime rates than the police have ever dreamed of doing. Some think he's God's gift to Gotham. Others think he's the Devil himself. Bruce, however, finds him intriguing. He always loved a good mystery, and this man was a mystery in combat boots.

Bruce had a system by now. Make 2 duplicate prototypes of everything. It's worked the past 7 times, with only one per going missing. And even for the first 3 times, notes would be found 3 weeks later, presumably from Him, providing notes on what could be improved and various diagnositic reports that he had run. The only reason Bruce didn't turn those handwriting samples into the police was because those diagnostic reports and improvement notes were always extremely helpful. At this point, he almost awaits the notes him and the tech team will get from the Bat, knowing that it will help make a more marketable product in the end. Maybe even take out some villains in the process.

"How much money are we wasting just letting this continue?" One of the other board members asked.

"We aren't letting it continue, we are buying our time. I don't want an in-person visit from you-know-who." Lucius explained.

"Mr. Wayne, what are we suppose to do about this?"

"Well, the financials from last quarter came back. Those first 2 prototypes were released officially, and did great. Maybe 2 minor bugs reported. And thats much less than the 27 major bugs reported by you-know-who. Who knows, if we really start running the numbers, we might be profitting off him." Bruce said.

"Did he leave another typewriter note?" Lucius asked.

"Yes. Tech team found it this morning" Bruce said. That was a lie. All the notes were handwritten. Done in one hell of a rush with some very shaky writing. Every few weeks, Bruce would spend maybe an hour transcribing it on a typewriter to give to the tech team. He couldn't explain why he was so devoted to helping the Bat, but it was such an interesting mystery to him that he almost didn't wanna know the answer.

---

"Mr. Wayne! I've got something I wanna show you!"

Bruce turned to see who was calling out to him, even though he could've guessed easily. Every Sunday after the board meeting, Bruce makes his way to the engineering lab at Wayne Tech. And every Sunday, Abel wants to show him something.

Abel Bates was one of the first hires Bruce made upon returning from his travels abroad. He had just finished his time in Japan when Abel applied for a lead tech engineer position. Fresh out of grad school, he showed potential in applied tech. Both the more experimental things and simplier, household appliances.

"Abel.... why the hell am I looking at a straw?" Bruce asked. Quite literally the only thing on the table was a single bendy straw.

"I know it doesn't look like it Mr. Wayne, but this is possibly the best thing I've ever invented"

"Abel you've worked here for 2 years please stop calling me Mr. Wayne. I'm 28, I'm not that old." He said. Abel was only 2 years younger, and yet always insisted on calling him "Mr. Wayne". Bruce respected him, and would honestly love to be friends with him, but he can't drink a glass of wine or whiskey with someone who called him "Mr."

"Sorry Bruce. Old habits die hard, ya know? Anyway, I think this could really be something amazing! The chemical compounds took a while to get right, and figuring out the right elasticity and texture, and how the bend should work-"

"Ok listen unlike you I don't have a degree in this, so just tell me why a straw is so important."

"Yeah, ok. So, people with a wide array of disabilities can't use reusable straws. Like if someone has involuntary movements the metal straws could break a tooth. If someone has trouble moving the silicone straws won't work cause they don't bend right. Disposable straws are the only ones that tend to work right, because they bend correctly and are soft. Well, I was thinking about it, and I decided I would fix that! Make a reusable straw that is accessible to disabled people and that won't cause them any sort of pain."

This is why Bruce hired Abel. He's very offbeat, very socially awkward at times, and often in his own head. But due to constantly being left alone with his thoughts, he thinks about the stuff no one else bothers to. Thus he'll invent something you never realized was a necessity.

"Have you done any testing? You know, just to make sure you aren't gonna hurt someone with this?"

"Not a whole lot. We did take it over to Gotham Medical and had some stroke victims try it. They were able to use it just fine. We had the caretakers try to wash it and thats where we're running into trouble. It's a bit too much on the thin side, but if we make it thicker we run into the problem the silocone straws have." Abel explained. "We'd also lose the bending mechanism and I worked hard on that".

"Do you have any ideas to fix it?"

"Not yet, but I'm gonna keep working on it."

"Well, I think it's a great idea. I do have to ask why you know so much about straws and disability though." Bruce asked.

"I saw a story in the paper a few months ago. A teenage girl had a seizure while she had a metal straw in her mouth. Her jaw clamped down, and afterwards her family had to ask for donations to help with the dental work. It made me really sad and so I researched if thats a common problem and turns out it is! So, yeah, working on fixing it." Abel explained. As per usual, he couldn't look Bruce in the eye while speaking. He looks so shy and yet could talk and talk for hours while never really looking at you.

"Didn't expect you to be a newspaper guy."

"Gotta support local journalism!"

"I feel like you could do that by reading a blog."

"Blogs don't pay the bills"

"I suppose." Bruce said. "Hey, were you able to get any of the bugs from the latest note fixed?"

"I haven't, no. I think its Claire who's working on that. Apparently she knows a lot about gas masks cause the second that note showed up she had all sorts of ideas on how to fix it." Abel explained.

"Alright, just ask her to text me when she has updates. Listen, I gotta go. I've got lunch with Lucius. You should come with us one of these days!"

"Maybe. You have a good one Mr. Wayne!"

"Stop calling me that!" Bruce said before closing the door behind him.

------

Abel looked around the lab. Logan had just finished a new fabric prototype, meant to be used in gliders. Abel, however, had other plans for this.

Bats can fly. Maybe he should too.

#idk what to tag this fic #bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne/batman #bruce wayne x batman #batfamily #batman fanfic #lowkey crack fic #i haven't written fanfiction in years bare with me #if stuff isn't comic accurate oh well #the notes you left #gotham citizen au

[ruki--mukami]

A/N: Hello! I thought it would be nice for Amaya to meet Ruki, hahaha. It takes place around the Diabolik Lovers OVA?

P.S: Still can’t DM people in my other account, huhu, so I’m using this second account.

Amaya could sense someone… no, there’s 4 of them.

‘They smell different… I guess this is what the others meant as impure vampires.’ Amaya thought to herself. After thinking for a good while, she got up and tried to go on a search for the unexpected company.

Her footsteps were quiet as she paced through the hallways and down the stairs, finally finding a young man near the front door.

Amaya peeked out to try and get a good look at him from afar, only to make out the man’s charcoal black hair. She felt the urge to get closer, curiouser and curiouser.

She giggled, tiptoes her way to Ruki, and brushed her cold smooth fingers across his pale nape. Amaya finally spoke to him, her lips curved into a smile.

“Hello there~”

"—?! Who are you?"

A shiver of trepidation ran throughout the eldest Mukami's spine upon contact, eliciting the widening of his steel-blue depths enlarged with utter surprise. Snatching the hand that dared to touch him, Ruki released the pureblood's wrist once he distanced her a reasonable amount far away from his own nape—any further and she'd veer into the unforgivable territory of where two long scars rested beneath the protective barrier of his argentine blazer and a silk black shirt.

"Ah, I thought I sensed someone approaching, yet somehow I... No, never mind. Don't ever do that again," he sighed, wariness exuding as Ruki assumed his usual equanimity once more. "If this is your way of greeting people, then I can't imagine your encounters with those less lenient than I."

Not once did he ever take kindly to sudden, unsolicited physical touch, yet he could sense the mysterious woman was, much like himself, a demon. A full-fledged Vampire, at that. Had she been anything less, then he might've twisted her arm then and there, but Ruki knew better than to engage needlessly in the first meeting. After a miniscule bead of sweat rolled down his brow, he furrowed his forehead in a mix of scorn and disbelief.

"Forgive my earlier crudeness. You are a Vampire, yes? To what do I owe the occasion? I'm Ruki Mukami—the eldest of my household. And, returning to my initial question... You are? State your purpose; that is, if you have one."

#diabolik lovers #ruki mukami #mukami ruki #ask #rp #diabolik lovers rp #amaya sakamaki #crookedherringcolorclodthe2nd #crookedherringcolorclod #(( it's a joy to finally interact!! i apologize for the late reply HFGHKJFG ))

[astarab1aze]

They have been going in circles, perhaps in more than just one way, for a while now. Only right that moment, quite literally, around the room, suffering some leftover greetings and introductions, thankfully cut short for the most part by more and more pairs deciding to head to the dancefloor instead. True, Geralt was hardly willing to pay attention to anyone else regardless, but he could at least count on it being less obvious to her when there were others around, stealing hers. Oh, but how he enjoyed it. Each moment in which it felt like it was just the two of them. Whenever she'd touch, whenever she'd so much as look at him. Made it easy to ignore the almost physically painful conviction that it couldn't, shouldn't, wouldn't last.

"May I have the next one?" It's a swift, but gentle motion that encloses her hand in his as he turned to face her, bowing, but not even then ready to take eyes off of hers, searching, still searching for something, and not willing to admit to himself whether or not he was able to find it. Despite all his doubt, smiling in a daring sort of way.

If she had to describe the party, she'd have had to have called it an altogether drab and needlessly busy affair - all the same people shaking hands and greeting each other as if they hadn't been working together for decades, even centuries for some, stealing her attention away from the man she'd happily brought along to--

Well, it might've just been another case of the why nots or i just couldn't help myself, and with all her coworkers coming up to grasp her hands and dote on her with little faux affections, she was left stifled and Geralt to stand there, perhaps awkwardly, perhaps anxiously in a place surrounded by all manners of people and things far stranger and equally, if not more so, vicious than he. By all accounts, he was on his own every time she was pulled away and beggared after; Not only was that rude, but no doubt he was uncomfortable. So it frustrated her, endlessly, until at last the many had tapered off and wandered away, whether to the dance floor so shrouded in intimate lighting and not nearly enough space, or to the strange, fun refreshments, or elsewhere.

The breathing room was much appreciated, but standing up so straight and smiling so insincerely had certainly soured her mood - So much so, she didn't hesitate to steal Geralt away, lending a piece of herself to him in a way only very few and far less deserving had managed before; Her undivided attention. Always and ever regarding him as they went along, quietly considerate of his space yet no less warm or doting, light sweeps of her fingers across his arm, a shared smile or two between sips of wine and bites of tarts, brushing knuckles, tacitly enjoying the dare of a palm settling over the bare small of her back, chatting among themselves about this and that, noticing the slightest wrinkle around his yellow eyes when he smiled or frowned-- In a way, it seemed only natural, now that she'd had her opportunity, and though a stinging sensation spread through even her coldest and emptiest of recesses, something loud enough to merit attending to begged desperately for her to let herself enjoy his company in full.

Reasons to justify as much came to mind, a rather telling bite of her lip when he'd turned away, and for a longer stretch than she'd cared to admit, she was silent.

He was charming, in the ways he'd so much as nibble on tarts and try desperately not to let his wine spill - always failing to catch a drop or two - how avoidant yet watchful his gaze in shadow and twilight, and maybe she was thinking too hard about it even still. She couldn't help herself, really, dazzled by his attention in the first place; Yes, his, quite. Taken in by relative quietude and gruffness that seemed to dissipate any time he'd look at her, by his bashful sort of mannerisms, how he looked in stately modernized garb. Such history in those eyes, such evidence of his fight shorn across his face, such pain in the grooved calluses of his hands, many years of life lived long before this moment, and she wondered - oh, how she wondered - what sort of life that was, where he'd come from, how he spent his days when he came to the end of a journey that should've been his last, who he'd loved before, who he'd loathed, what he'd killed, survived. Bits and pieces confessed here and there, little more; She tried, even now, not to greedily ask too much of him, no matter how dearly she wished to.

Lost in thought, lip curled around the rim of her wineglass, she realized it might be trouble to let someone like him get too close. Handsome as he was, careful and dilligent as he handled Asuka, she found herself tripping up around him already. Overthinking, flailing girlishly sans all the blushing - not that he'd have been able to see it anyway; Oh, thank gods for makeup--

A slow sip to finish off her wine, ever so careful not to smear glossy black, before setting aside the glass.

And, again, she was right back at square one - Oh, to hell with it. What was the harm? Besides, besides-

She wasn't prepared for him to turn to her and take her hand, her other reflexively fluttering to her chest as if she'd been frightened. The opposite was true, as he bowed - he'd only caught her by surprise; She hadn't been looking at or thinking of anything or anyone else, too engrossed in her reverie and the turn of cat-like eyes onto her own. He didn't look away from her a second time, smiling at her from under scruff and weathered brow. Did he not know what he did to her? It took her only too long to realize he'd asked her to dance.

"You want to dance with me?" she asked, a smile of her own pulling at the corners of her lips. Was it because the song playing now happened to be slow? Cheeky wolf, wasn't he? Charmed she was, even so. "Aren't you full of surprises... I didn't realize you could dance, Geralt."

And with all the courage she could muster, it was here she would tenderly take hold of his hand in turn and guide it back around her waist to settle once more on her lower back, bare skin and all. Marked shine to eyes both golden and violet, free hand tentatively resting on his chest; He was bold enough to ask, she could be bold enough to answer. She stepped closer, closing much remaining distance between them, quite happy to continue ignoring all else in favor of a man who could make her smile and it not feel forced. Answer enough...right?

"Of course I'll dance with you," she said, chuckling the while, saying it out loud - just in case. Yet all at once, she parted from him, retaking his hands in her own. Her smile widened - he seemed so surprised - but she'd only intended to guide him away from tables so lined with food and chatterboxes, clinking glasses and the awkward shuffling of her coworkers, toward a less populated alcove where wefts of ghostly chiffon and conjured spiritflame burned idly overhead. A cooler, paler light cast upon them now, but he was handsome even still and she couldn't bear to tear her eyes away, no matter the glow, no matter how wistfully girlish she'd been in pulling him aside in opt for quieter intimacy; She'd have liked to have heard more of his voice, a little louder, a little softer, but above the music and clamor all the same. "A dance it is, then, my dear, but you'll give me another after, won't you?"

And she looped her arms around his neck, closed the distance once more, and enjoyed the roughness of his hands, the warmth of his frame, and quiet rumble of his voice as the steady lilt in the air carried them this way and that. And she hoped, she hoped, for a little longer, a little more concrete - maybe it would be alright, were they to stay like this and see where it went.

#☿ || Asks. #✘ // Oh Be Still My Heart - I'm His Forever; Geralt. #gyofukuki #/ it gets the tag shhhh- #/ i might've gotten carried away-- #/ i wasn't sure when exactly this would be #/ certainly early enough on i think--- #/ enjoy vita losing her mind regardless #/ let geralt be fawned over----

[poolpartymusic]

different week, same struggles

All of October I've had trouble falling asleep, woke up way too many times but above all: my mind has been too god damn busy. So busy that I've had at least 10 sleepless nights in a month. I've taken a strong sleep medicine for two nights, and now two nights without it's been going swell.

It was really scary. At one point I really thought I had tinnitus (which I still might have, but the noise had just become soooo loud because of all the stress I had). I also got (and still am) pretty emotional and sensitive. All my life I've practically praised myself for being such a good sleeper, and it was really scary to realize I might've fucked that up.

I'm okay now, but that's been a main thing. I've really limited the alcohol, coffee and substances intake and that has been interesting as well. Turns out I do actually crave a beer every now and then, so it isn't as yuck as I thought, and it also turns out to be way more difficult to say no to a beer in social circumstances.

Most importantly, I spoke with a friend who has suffered from even heavier sleeping problems. He had a serious underlying mental issue going on and encouraged me to think about what has changed in my life these past months. The only thing I could possibly think of, was the saying-goodbye to my friend group. And though at the beginning of our conversation I really didn't feel like it was a thing that bothered me, he helped me realize I've been stuffing away all the negative feelings surrounding it. Because of summer it was so easy to just enjoy the heat and the people I did have around me, even when those were mostly friends from my boyfriend. But as fall fell, the loneliness hit me a lot more. And it made me realize once again that I don't really feel like I don't have a solid friend group. And that I haven't mourned the hope I had for my friend group. That I don't mind not seeing some of them anymore, but that for so many years I desperately wished for it and for them to be different.

It was nice to talk about with that friend and later my boyfriend. I see things I didn't see before and in ways it's already a little bit healing.

Some less deep things:

A couple of things have changed since the last time I wrote. I got an internship at two places, one graphic printing workshop and one at a big national newspaper company. Both really cool, one more scary than the other. But I'm proud of myself and I'm excited to learn.

My minor's been alright. I feel cool being the top of the class student (for both the group project and the exam). One teacher was really really excited about my ideas revolving innovations in art and really encouraged us to pick my problem to solve in the upcoming weeks. Because it's quite a man-heavy study and work field, I already feel very conscious being a woman. It feels, although it's not something that's literally been said or pointed out, that they don't expect women to do as well. And aside from that, it definitely feels as though they don't expect an art student to do well and be capable. So that feels nice and good and I should try and stay somewhat humble and grounded.

I was writing all this when my boyfriend asked me for help on his internship e-mails. After that I received a text from a housemate telling us there's a leakage in our fuse box. Really woke me up and scared me. I'm alright now, but it was really scary for a while. I went home and packed a little 'flight back' and I'll be sleeping at Michaels. So I will survive, but the thought of everything burning was so scary.

[egpenrose]

Hardest exercise yet

I am going through the writing exercises in Steering the Craft by Ursula K. Le Guin. This exercise was about NOT using adjectives or adverbs because if you can get the same description with fewer words that's better (Really Le Guin explains the reasoning for these exercises so well, go read the book).

I chose to edit a 500 word passage to remove adjectives and adverbs AND THIS WAS HARD. I know I didn't 100% succeed, but I definitely spent a lot of time thinking about alternative wordings so I think I got the benefit of the exercise (also sorry this post is a book in itself)

ORIGINAL

The cacophony of clinks, clangs, and chatter soothes the rough edges off of Alexander's existential crisis. A whole real world exists outside of the network. The cafeteria is set up like a buffet, hand-lettered signs directing patrons. Bright silver chaffers are set up on crisp white linen with little flames underneath keeping the food warm. Each dish is accompanied by a folded-tent notecard with hand written ingredients. A mix of professional and country charm.

He sets his very full tray down at an empty table, but that doesn't last long. He's an oddity and these people have no sense of privacy.

"Got an appetite, do ya, young man?" asks an older masc-individual with hair like wispy white clouds floating unkempt around a wrinkled face. They are wearing a dark blue button down that looks like what they might've worn everyday during their working years. Alexander supposes he is young in comparison.

"I wanted to try everything," he explains. Two lasagna choices, four vegetable sides, and garlic bread quickly overwhelmed a plate even when taking small portions.

"I never liked broccoli," they comment, seemingly just for want of something to say. "but the girl Philipa's got cooking does an alright job of it."

Alexander nods, mouth full, waiting until he could add, "Yeah everything is good. I never thought I would like turnips." He stabs a baked white wedge onto his fork.

"You all have turnips in Huriya? I always thought you lot ate paste out of squeezies."

Alexander has heard this one before. "Haha, no. I think most people in the southern provinces do eat more pre-packaged food, but there's still sit-down restaurants like this." He gestures around them to indicate the hotel's cafeteria, though he meant more like ordering from a menu. "And the pre-packaged food is still normal food. Like I've gotten heat and eat lasagna before."

"Huh," they don't seem particularly pleased to learn that the stereotype isn't true. "But this is better, right?" they insist. "This is real food."

"It's different," Alexander hedges.

The older local is right, the food is more 'real' if real means less processing and fewer additives. He wants to like it more than he does. He doesn't not like it. But there are so many strong unusual flavors that come across as dirt, grass, blood, or medicine to Alexander's palette. Stringy plant bits are hard to chew through, and grisly fatty meat gobs feel gross and seem to upset his stomach. Surely, he'll adjust.

"Everything is scaled up," Alexander continues, "So companies tend to only keep the most popular items." RIP Mx. Coffee Mix, original flavor. "Like I've never seen nettles or dandelion greens before."

The stranger seems pleased with this praise, though Alexander is essentially saying the food is more varied here because people continue using less savory ingredients.

"NO" ADJECTIVES/ADVERBS VERSION

The cacophony of clinks, clangs, and chatter cracks the shell of Alexander's existential crisis. Existance persists outside of the network. The cafeteria is set up like a buffet; Someone handpainted directions on planks to help patrons navigate down the line of chaffers. Handwriting on notecards, which have been folded into tents, list out ingredients.

Alexander finds a table to himself and sets his tray down causing the plates of food to clatter. Alexander has gotten in one bite before he's joined. These people have no sense of privacy.

"Got an appetite, do ya, young man?" asks the pensioner with wisps like clouds floating around a face of wrinkles. They are wearing a button down that looks like what they might've worn everyday during their working years. Alexander supposes he is young in comparison.

"I wanted to try everything," he explains. The buffet offered lasagna with and without meat, turnips, broccoli, asparagus, beets, and garlic bread. Taking everything, even in moderation, has overwhelmed Alexander's plate.

"I never liked broccoli," they comment, poking the broccoli on their plate with a fork. "but the girl Philipa's got cooking manages."

Alexander nods, chewing, waiting until he could add, "Yeah everything is good. I never thought I would like turnips." He stabs another wedge onto his fork.

"You all have turnips in Huriya? I always thought you lot ate paste out of squeezies."

Alexander has heard this one before. "Haha, no. I think most people do eat more grab-n-gos, but we also have restaurants like this." He gestures around them to indicate the hotel's cafeteria, though he meant more like ordering from a menu. "And they pack normal food in the grab-n-gos. Like I've gotten heat and eat lasagna before."

"Huh." They chafe at the idea that the stereotype isn't true. "But this is better, right?" they insist. "This is real food."

"It's different," Alexander hedges.

The local is right, if 'real' means no additives and no processing in a factory.

Alexander wants to like it; he doesn't not like it. He likes the sauce and noodles, but there's also flavors that come across as dirt, grass, blood, or medicine to Alexander's palette. Fibers from one of the vegetables accumulate in his mouth as they refuse to be chewed, and the gristle and fat from the meat upset his stomach. Everyone else seems to enjoy the food; Alexander will adjust.

"Everything is scaled up," Alexander continues, "So companies tend to discontinue lemons. You know: flops, duds." RIP Mx. Coffee Mix, original flavor. "Like I've never seen nettles or dandelion greens before."

The stranger nods at this praise, though Alexander's opinion boils down to Noegrad chooses to suffer for the sake of variety.

#long post #steering the craft #writing #writting prompt #writing exercise #frogverse #authors #writing community #writing challenge

[calkocali]

huh, telling you parents that you smoke weed and love them regardless of what they might've done to me because they keep trying is a pretty based conversation to have

I was also high while having it, I then smoked another joint, I'm a lot higher now

Look at those ants below me

This was not a metaphorical moment for cal, they had not suddenly been elevated to a great height to gaze upon the ant like humans below, but had merely gazed at some ants below them

The above didn't happen also

The first paragraph happened though

still based

I wanted to put another readmore and not put anything but the gottem emoji but tumblr doesn't let you do more than one read more

what a dumb system to have, there might be multiple levels of stupidity in a post that really should be delegated to lower levels of the read-more chain.

I propose that you read more, so I can read less or something

Minecraft really needs some work man, anytime I think about playing it I'm reminded that I would be playing minecraft again because it always progresses the same fuckin way regardless of what biome you start it

The story has stayed the same for so fucking long that I cannot even fathom being interested in slaying that motherfucking cocksucking enderdragon again

Like fuck of microsoft, of should I say "Deficient at managing games studios company" *dabs*

Anytime I want to play minecraft I want that good shit

I want that 12.7 beta patch

I want awkward looking grass textures, and a sense of game design and tutorialising that can only be referred to as the youtube tutorial system - in which an individual is left to the wastelands of game wikis with barely functional site navigation, or just watch a youtuber play it and copy them.

THAT'S WHERE THE GOOD SHIT IS AT MAN

FUCKING MINECRAFT WAS THE SHIT WHEN TEKKIT WAS A THING

I WANNA WATCH SIPS FUCKING DETONATE ANOTHER BLACK HOLE BOMB IN A MOUNTAIN AND HAVE THE SERVER DEVOURED BECAUSE OF IT

I WANNA GO TO MINECRAFT SPACE IN A ROCKET I BUILT MYSELF, FOLLOWING ALONG WITH THE TUTORIAL I HAD ON MY SECOND MONITOR (Early Cal definitely did not have a second monitor at the time)

Mmmmmmminecraft

#I'm #not #based #you #are #I went on an unexpected minecraft rant there for some reason

[insomtiny]

groups going under because of mismanagement will always make me so fucking angry

#clc was not even doing bad they just never had comebacks because cube didn't fucking care about them #like i feel like the comebacks they DID have were well received??? there was no reason to dismiss them #gidle's been doing great and then cube goes and drops one of their most popular members with no warning after 5 months of silence #let's turn away from cube now and hit YG #i'm so mad i'm sooo mad #like last year when the album came out and everyone was like huh why are these photoshoots so boring #when the teaser images were pretty good why're the photoshoots from teaser images not in the photobooks #only for them to #almost a year later #release a jpn version of the album with all of the year old photoshoots in the photobooks #like there's absolutely nothing new and of course bl*nks r still eating that shit up cause they're content starved #and blackpink is their most popular group! one of the most popular in the world!!! #i don't follow any other yg groups but i can't imagine how they're being treated #it's funny how it's these big companys that are struggling so hard with this #jype! jype's not the worst overall but what they did with got7 🙄🙄🙄 #i think that might've been less the company and more the man #i'm hopeful that we'll get ot7 again sooner or later i do enjoy the solo stuff they've been putting out #but they were so half assed managed at jype honestly i would rather have them be free of that #this got rambley but i've been sitting on this for awhile #i try to keep negative rants to a minimum on here but bro i'm so mad #kyra's ramblings

[yandere-daydreams]

man that bunny x wolf post has got my head just, absolutely filled with the idea of the world's dumbest, most sweet darlings, the kinds of darlings the yandere wants to protect from the world, the kinds of darlings who cant bring themselves to have any negative feelings toward their captors even though they KNOW they should. sweet little princesses and dumb soft bunnies and sad kind waifs, completely under the thumbs of their villains or wolves or bullies gosh i wish that were me

tw - unhealthy relationships, themes of dependency, slight infantilization, implied drug-use, manipulation.

To be fair,,, it's not like you know any better. You've always been so sheltered, so innocent, kept so far away from anyone or anything that might teach you how dark the world can really be, and when you lured away from your little castle, separated from all your foolish bodyguards, left alone and cold and vulnerable in a forest don't recognize, with only the clothes on your back and more fear than your naïve mind knows how to handle. No one's ever hurt you, ever hit you, ever used you own trusting nature to cause you harm, so when they come to you, seek you out in the thick fog, ask for your name and offer to take you back to their home, you don't know any better than to accept, than to take their arm, than to let them see you shiver and shake as you wipe away tears and mumble words of gratitude. You don't know any better than to trust them, as much as you trusted your noble parents, as much as you trusted your guards. You don't know any better than to think of them as a savior, rather than a threat. You just don't.

They're nice to you, and they're gentle, too, serving you the sweetest tea in their small collection, trading your ragged silk for soft cotton and warm furs, only ever touching you lightly, so lightly as the tend to your scrapes and bruises, rubbing strange ointments into your skin and bandaging up what can't be fixed so simply. They let you wander through their sprawling gardens to calm your nerves, braid their pretty flowers into bracelets and crowns, and when you tell them what happened, how you managed to get so lost, they offer to let you stay, at least for the night, at least until your parents send someone to look for you. You try to earn your keep, take care of all the little, domestic things they tend to forget about when they lock themself in the laboratory on the highest level of their tallest tower, but you've never been very good at that kind of stuff, never had any talent for home-making or household chores, and they're so patient, so eager to tell you that it's alright, it's fine, they're just happy to have you close, that your smile makes them happier than another pair of capable hands ever could. They say they like it when you keep them company, spend the day perched on the edge of their worktable or spend the night making idle conversation in the chambers. They tell you not to do anything else, not if it's too difficult, not if you might get yourself hurt. They say you don't have to think at all, not when they're so happy to take care of you.

You know that they're probably not as nice to everyone as they are to you. They don't have any servants, and guests aren't allowed past the iron gates, if you can really call their frequent visitors 'guests'. They don't take in anyone else, despite the voices you hear from the forest, at night, the voices they tell you to ignore, and when you mention visiting the nearby village or attempting to contact someone you might've known before you met them, they grow cold, distant, prone to touching you more harshly, to serving you bitter tea, to treating you less-than-gently when your thoughts turn heavy and words begin to slur and you find yourself in their bedroom, again, unable to do so much as breath without their help. You know that they're not as nice as they want you to think they are, or as kind, and that they don't have to be gentle, but it's so nice to be with them, so nice to let them make your life so easy.

It's so nice to let them take care of you, and to be honest, you're not sure you can take care of yourself, anymore.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #yandere theory #general

[kirain]

What do you think of the theory that Phineas is the last survivor of the Hope crew? The one who was forced to unthaw and eat the colonists to survive? I'm not sure I totally buy it, but it would definitely explain his guilt and motive to save the rest of the colonists.

The thought occurred to me, but the more I read, the less it made sense. If you read Phineas' journal entries, you find out he was surprised by the Hope's arrival and already working for the Board. If Phineas had indeed been the sole survivor of the crew, I can't help but think his reaction would be less grounded and more enthusiastic that he finally attained human contact after nearly a lifetime loneliness and cannibalism.

The timeline doesn't exactly add up either. If Phineas was on the Hope, he'd be pushing 90. Late 80's at the absolute least. I really don't think he's that old. I'd put him somewhere in his late 60's, early 70's. Assuming he boarded back when the ship first launched, he'd be around 88 years old, putting him at 18 when he joined that incredibly important crew, with an incredibly important mission, guiding incredibly important people. If that isn't already a stretch, we also have to assume Phineas was some sort of child prodigy (to make him qualified), but he admits he wasn't very clever in his youth.

He also explicitly says he killed dozens of colonists. A few dozen. Adrift in space for 70 some odd years, he would've had to kill far more than that. Several hundred, I'd estimate. Plus, living off of human meat for that long can't be healthy. The malnutrition would've killed him, if the boredom didn't kill him first. Also, if you play as an absolute asshole, you can poke him about his past and he only mentions the experiments, particularly disturbed by how they liquefied. Not that that isn't bad enough, but I feel like eating people would be slightly more memorable and guilt-inducing.

Then there's the crimes he's wanted for: sedition, forgery, conspiracy, conspiracy to commit conspiracy, unlicensed medical practice, and company damage. The Board doesn't exactly mince words and they were happy to make him seem as dangerous and unhinged as possible, so I can't imagine why they'd exclude murder or cannibalism from his list of offenses. He is labeled a terrorist, but specifically against the Board, not ordinary people, and in addition to all of that he's good friends with Gladys Culkelly, the fence on Groundbreaker. The game even hints that they might've had a romance in their youth and Phineas says they've been working together for years, which wouldn't be possible if he was on the Hope.

That said, I don't think Phineas is the final crew member. I think he's just an old, ex-Board scientist who tried to wake the colonists 35 years ago, when they first arrived in Halcyon. He just regrets treating them like lab rats and failing to save them. Throughout the story, he exhibits profound empathy and sensitivity, often dodging painful topics with humour or eccentric quips, so killing a few dozen people in search of a cure for long-term cryogenisis, I feel, would've been enough to traumatise and motivate him. That's more than enough to weigh on a man's conscious if he has a heart.

#the outer worlds #tow #phineas welles #captain of the unreliable #board #theory #obsidian #video game

[desertofsnowflakes]

Incorrect Order Chapter 3 (Nesssian AU)

A/N: I'm very(read: kinda) sorry for cliffhanger last chapter. Do inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: Language

2094 words | Incorrect Order Masterlist | Read on AO3

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Cassian never knew such panic. He knew he was being an ass for acting as if he had the right to be protective of her. Of the person he didn’t even know the name of. Of the person he felt drawn to and yet wanted to forget. Of the person who got under his skin so easily. Of the person whose beauty can bring the best of men to their knees and make even queens try everything possible to best her. He didn’t know her at all other than a few conversations that weren’t his best moments, but he still felt as if they had been together since they were just kids.

All of those were reasons good enough to get him to forget other females. But this woman, gods, this woman wasn’t like the others, was she? No, she wasn’t. He found her on her knees with a man standing before her in an alley on the way back home from the library. At first glance, his heart broke for different reasons. He started walking away, before he realised it wasn’t what he thought it was. When he caught the telltale whiff of blood and saw the glint of a blade from the corner of his eyes.

Undiluted panic and rage —both feelings he didn’t have the right to feel— spurred him forward, knocking the man unconscious and breaking a bone or two for good measure, only to find the woman laying on the floor, her heart beating too fast for her good. Cassian debated entrusting the man and woman over to the authorities. Somehow, Cassian felt that the man and woman were well acquainted before today. He felt all of this was planned from the man’s side. So he brought both of them to his house. The guy was shoved into the basement with a strong sedative. The woman was left in the guest room one of his brothers or friends slept in whenever they stayed over. He didn’t take her to his room. No, he won’t. That would rip open a wound he still struggled to keep closed. A wound that wasn’t even closed properly. That would remind him of images he didn’t want to admit was stored in his mind. One of those images rose, of the woman laying on his bed, golden-brown hair fanned around her flushed face, her eyes screwed shut in—

Cassian shoved that image away and sighed. He should probably have a little chat with the woman once she wakes up.

Today, when the woman didn’t wake up after one week of unconsciousness, when her face was ghastly pale, he felt the optimism that incentivised him slowly seeping out. He started regretting his decision of not handing things over to the police. What if Cassian’s first aid hadn’t been enough? Worse, what if he did something wrong? What if, because of his actions —done knowingly, or unknowingly— would be the reason why the earth loses a certain gray-eyed beauty?

Cassian was close to giving up. It pained him to see her like this. If not for the slight rise and fall of her chest he would think she was dead already. He slowly walked to her bed, crouched and tucked stray strands of hair behind the shell of her ear. He tamped down the emotion cresting in him. Her pulse was getting steadier day by day. He should be happy— his one week of taking leave from both of his jobs and tending to her was paying off. But his mind shot to the moment that day when they first met. When he was stunned by her beauty. Her side-profile, not even her full face, at that. That day, when he realised something deadly was brewing between them. It had been growing from that day, he realised. It was barely five weeks since he had known her— he didn’t even know her. They were just acquaintances. Still, Cassian knew he was falling hard for her. This time, he couldn’t contain the swell of emotion in him. He couldn't hold back the tear rolling down his cheek. He slowly slipped out of the room and sighed. To say he was screwed was a major understatement.

***

Everywhere hurt. Death was supposed to be one's liberation. No one mentioned that there was physical pain in death. There shouldn't be, right? One didn't even have a body to feel physical pain after death. Mental pain? Probably. Physical pain? A big no.

Nesta blinked open her eyes — which again, no one mentioned ghosts would be able to do.

Huh. She expected Hell —for the mistakes she'd atoned, she assumed Hell would be her place— to be all dark and gloomy. What she didn't expect was for Hell to have separate rooms— with furniture and bright blue walls, no less.

She wanted to sit up and get a sense of her surroundings and clear her still groggy head. That's when she heard muffled footsteps. She jerked upright —and immediately regretted it for her head hurt even worse than before — and her pulse raced. She paused. Pulse raced?

She cautiously placed her hand on her wrist, then her neck and on her chest to be sure. Pulse. She had a pulse. She wasn’t dead?

The door flew open revealing a hulking, heaving figure she knew all too well. What was he doing here?

Ohh. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of memories from the alley. Of Tomas. She opened her eyes to find the man sitting on a chair near the bed. Immediately she was keenly aware of the limited space between them. He silently passed her a glass of water she gladly downed, refilled and let her drink her as much as she wanted.

She set her glass on the bedside table and looked up at him, at the concern etched deep on his face.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” he asked.

Why is he being kind? Why is he making it difficult for me to hate him?

“Why am I here?” she asked instead.

“I asked you first,” he deadpanned. Typical.

“Mhm, nice way to deflect. Too kiddish, though,” she said.

“As if you aren’t deflecting,” he retorted.

“How about this? Your answers for mine.”

He huffed. “Whatever. So, are you okay?”

She smiled, “Me first.” At his glare she said, “I’m sick, aren’t I?”

“How nice of you to pull that card,” he murmured.

“Why am I here?”

“I found you on your knees, your nose slightly broken, bleeding here and there with a man holding a knife to your throat in an alley.” He shrugged. “I brought you and healed you as well as I could without gaining attention from the authorities. This is my home.”

She opened her mouth to ask her next question.

He cut her off with a smile and said, “My turn, sweetheart.”

She clenched her jaw. His audacity.

He leaned forward on his elbows. “Does anything hurt?”

“Yeah,” she allowed herself a small smile, “My head feels like it's being hit with a hammer by a particularly unkind person. My nose feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. My scalp feels like it’s being used as a cotton reel. I’m in dire need of a bath. Other than that, I’m fine I guess.”

He nodded, “Well, I’m glad you’re fine.” There he is, being all kind and caring to me again. He chuckled. “No need to give me that look. I’m just glad my one week off didn’t go down the drain.”

That was what she wanted to hear. But it still stung. Her head snapped up as realisation struck. “Wait— has it been one week already?”

He smirked, “Yes. Now, my question—”

She frowned, “It’s my turn.”

His smirk only grew larger. That bastard. “ ‘Has it been one week already’ is a question, my love.”

Shit. She should’ve thought about that. He was correct but still, “How dare—”

“Calm down, darling, calm down. If you want—”

She sighed and said, “Bring it on, then.”

His jaw ticked. He’s angry, she realised. “Who was he?” he asked quietly.

She drew in a breath. “That was Tomas. Tomas Mandray. My ex-boyfriend. He probably wanted revenge for putting him in jail.” She didn’t explain. She didn’t want to and he seemed to understand that. She slightly dreaded the next question. She put on her no-emotion face and asked, “Where is he?”

His face said he saw right through her facade. He pursed his lips, “In the basement. I figured the both of you had some sort of personal history so I wanted to wait for you to wake up before I did anything. He’s not awake; I’ve taken care of that but I don’t think he’ll be unconscious much longer. Do you need anything?”

She nodded, she was still in the same clothes as that day. There were blood stains throughout her black shirt. The mere thought that she hadn't cleaned herself for one week made her shudder. He didn’t change her clothes and she appreciated that though it seemed her face, neck and hands were wiped with a cloth. “I’d like a bath.”

He seemed to consider this before saying, “Sure. You can use my friend's clothes from the closet. The bathroom is there. Take a bath, use whatever you want. I'll get breakfast ready.”

He turned to leave. “Wait,” she called.

He arched his brows, waiting. “Thank you. For everything.”

He gave her his signature half-smile, “Anytime, darling.”

***

Making breakfast was normally very easy. Today, however, it was proving to be a very, very difficult task. Apparently, your brain turns to mush when the woman you've been drooling behind is bathing under the same roof. Also when you're talking to her. He found it a miracle that he didn't make a fool of himself earlier.

But he was sober enough to see the vulnerability behind her guarded expressions when they were talking about her ex-boyfriend. Gods, her ex-boyfriend. The anger he felt when he saw him in the alley was less than a tenth of what he felt now. He didn't know why he was angry. He just… was. He knew she was smart and brave and strong. But that didn't wipe off the fact that somewhere, beneath the tigress exterior, there was a scared little rabbit. He knew what he was going to do might be stupid. He knew it might not work out. Still, Cassian was going to arm the scared rabbit, consequences be damned.

***

Turns out, he makes delicious breakfast. There was steak, salad, boiled potatoes and a number of other foods. Nesta didn't know when she last had such mouth-watering steak. Not that she'll admit it though.

“Did he see you?” she asked after a hearty meal. “Tomas,” she clarified.

“No,” he replied, “I came from the back. His guard was down so he wasn't ready. I don't think he's trained in this kinda stuff. He probably knows a little but not good enough. Why?”

She shook her head. “I don't think I want anything to do with him. Would you mind sending him to the police? Maybe you could just attach a note saying you found him abandoned somewhere or something like that. I really don't want to get you into trouble either.”

She didn't dare look at him, afraid he'll say no.

“Fine,” he said. “You can call a cab whenever you're ready to leave. Take my first-aid kit if you want. Anything else?”

“No, no, nothing.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks. Again

For, uh, everything.”

Gods, why was she getting so flustered?

She packed her old clothes and some medicines he recommended for her headache, ignoring the pang of disappointment. Before she left, he passed her a scrap of paper with an address scrawled on it.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It's a centre I run with my brothers. In three weeks from now, after that Sunday, do you want to come? It's a self-defense arts centre. We could teach you a bit here and there. If you want. Totally no pressure.”

Nesta was stunned. That was exactly what she was thinking about in the shower earlier. Learn how to fight. Learn what to do. Then, payback time. She really didn't understand how he managed to read her mind. She smiled. “I'd love that.”

He grinned. She felt happy. Soon, she was going to give back suffering for all she got. Tomas was so going to pay. She's going to learn how to fight. Never again, she vowed. Never again would she be vulnerable.

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