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lounaticm · 6 months

Note

So I've been massively obsessed with listening to FNAF songs lately I'm definitely very mentally well about it, ah. anywAYYY

Music headcanons about what the egos listen to??? 😁 Feel free to do as many as you want to, but I'm most curious about Murdock, Illinois, engineer Mark, and Wilford. (Also, I have some idea of what's in ur brain with Dark, but any more details would be welcome~) (Also also, Y a n c y)

Murdock - Industrial and Aggrotech are his shit, but also very much into Power Metal and Rock, the heavier the better. Appreciates Classical and Jazz, though prefers songs that sound more brooding and ominous in both cases.

Illinois - Definitely listens to and enjoys all sorts of cultural folk songs and the like native to the places he visits in his travels. Indie, Blues, and Jazz round out his typical tastes. People who don't know him tend to assume he'll like Country music, but he can't say he cares much for it.

Wilford - Disco is a very obvious choice here and it is true, but Wilford's been around for quite a while and has an appreciation for pretty much all types of music. He does, however, have quite a strong fondness specifically for Electroswing.

Engineer - Listens to a lot of sub-genres of Electronic and EDM. Like Wilford, a big fan of Electroswing, and also likes Chiptune a lot. Will put on heavier music like Industrial when he's angry or frustrated and trying to work something out. If he gets too strung out, though, he'll find some sort of rain or - especially after the Wormhole Incident - heartbeat ambience to put on and go decompress. Preferably with the Captain nearby.

Yancy - Musicals is really on the nose but also so very apt. Also Rock'n'Roll, Rockabilly, and Doo-wop, considering the whole 'greaser' vibes he's got. Also likes some sub-genres of Rock and Alternative. Doesn't actively dislike any genre of music, even if it's something that isn't to his tastes. Boy just loves music too much.

Damien/Dark - Classical, Oldies, and some Blues and Jazz are all very obvious and fitting picks (all moony and lovesick), but only very close friends and family know that he also adores Metal, with Symphonic Metal being his favorite of the genre. You'd be hard-pressed to catch him listening to it, though, especially after the events of the Party. It reminds him a little too much of a certain someone who used to listen to and play it with him...

Bonus (cause his music taste jumped out at me):

Bing - Vaporwave and Chiptune are his favorites, but he likes almost all kinds of Electronic and EDM. Always surprises people when they find him listening to Industrial music and its sub-genres, of which Dark Electro is his go-to.

[Partially me projecting really hard here, partially honestly striking me as making sense, but I can see pretty much all the Egos enjoying Post Rock. Some more than others, and some only when they want something to help them wind down, but still.]

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writtengalaxies · 2 years

Text

The 50s Diner

Characters: Yancy, GN!Reader

Word Count: 765

Spicy Rating: Enjoy your sweet fluff!

You know you're not supposed to flirt with anyone doing their job. Honestly, it freaks you out when people take your own politeness and try to turn it into an opportunity to flirt.

But you had a hard time not staring at your waiter.

You had popped into this dinner, all 50s styled with an automat still taking up an entire wall. You loved coming here on occasion, when you had a chance to just to spend the day relaxing to enjoy the atmosphere. It never had that same forced bustle a lot of places had, where you felt forced to hurry up eating. You could sit back in the pleather booth, enjoy one of the best milkshakes you'd ever have in your life, and listen to the overhead radio play songs from several decades.

You slid into a booth now, barely taking a peek at the menu before knowing what you wanted. It never took you long here, with the same thing you could happily eat every time. You spaced out on your phone for a bit, quickly tapping through emails and checking social media, when you heard a smooth voice speak.

"What can I get for youse today?"

You looked up in the face of an honest-to-god greaser with a small nervous smile. A quick glance to his name tag told you his name was Yancy, and based on how he was fidgeting, he was new. Granted, you didn't need the fidgeting to realize it, considering you hadn't seen him before. He looked around for a second before offering another little awkward smile, and you realized you were staring.

"Sorry, I, uh. I know some folks ain't too happy seeing knuckle tatts on their waiter, I can go get youse someone who ain't--"

"No! No, sorry, you're fine!" You laugh awkwardly, trying to shake yourself out of your own thoughts. You weren't about to tell him you were staring because he was cute. "Just didn't recognize you, and I was thinking about how long it's been since I've been in."

"Oh! Youse a regular then? I got told a list of names of regulars to help make it easier on me, what's yours?" You gave him your name, trying to fight down the flustered feeling of both being such a regular you could be on a list of known customers and the casual way he repeated himself after. "Be right back with that for ya!"

Sure enough, in minutes, he had your order exactly how you like it, and he checks on you to make sure you have everything you need at the perfect times. It's honestly one of the smoothest experiences you've ever had at a restaurant. He's a natural at reading exactly when you need things.

Soon, far too soon for you to really want to admit, you hand him your card to pay for your food. You've been at war with yourself the entire time, wondering if you should be bold enough to ask for his number. You really shouldn't, you decide in the end. You don't want to make it weird if he's there the next time you come in, and he's still new...

"Here youse is! You take care out there, a'right?" Yancy offers you a wide grin, placing down not just a receipt but a take out box. You look up at him confused, knowing you didn't get anything else and you had no leftovers. "Oh, uh. The...the kitchen said it was youse's favorite, and uh. It's okay for youse to just have. Said it was uh...a thanks for you bein' a loyal customer, or some such." The suddenly shy, almost defensive look got you to smile.

"Thanks, Yancy." He waved it off, hurrying away quickly, and you thought nothing else of it. You gathered up your things, and headed home, already thinking about the interaction, when you could come by next, and how you were going to try to approach maybe getting to know him better. No matter how you cut it, it was just going to be weird for him, and you had to accept it with a sigh.

You paused in your kitchen, looking at the take out box. The diner had given you free things before: you were well known, tipped well, and were just generally nice, so it wasn't that unusual. So why had Yancy been so awkward? Popping open the take out box, you saw why.

Call me?

As you added Yancy's telephone number to your contacts, you had to admit that it was the best tasting dessert you've ever had.

#musical jailbreak #my writing #yancy markiplier #yancy x gn!reader #awhm yancy #markiplier yancy #yancy x reader

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sprucedarkstache · 7 months

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You got any trans Damien and or trans Yancy headcanons?

Boy, do I have headcanons???

(Tysm for the ask sorry this took me so long)

Damien

I used to heavily headcanon him as trans, not so much anymore but.

I had this old post that (jokingly but also not) both Celine and Damien were trans and just ended up swapping identities.

I believe that Damien would feel emasculated simply by being around his other male colleagues.

Since it’s the 1920s, a lot of men don’t wear facial hair and keep their face quite clean (aside from a nice handlebar above the lip), which gives Damien an excuse to not have facial hair at all

It also makes his clean reputation very attractive to all the ladies in town

All in all, he feels very empowered when he becomes Dark, who (in my headcanon) can shape himself however he sees, giving Damien the liberty to make himself as big buff masculine.

But also, in my headcanon, Damien and Dark are two separate spirits, so this leaves some times where Dark has taken a more feminine form that day, it catches Damien off guard when he’s in control and leaves him dysphoric.

Yancy

TW// mentions of mvrd3r and transph0bia

Yancy I feel more strongly about. He is trans. 100%

My entire interpretation is that him being trans the reason he murdered his parents (paraphrasing)

Essentially, Yancy got incredibly bullied in the small town he lived in, and it only got worst as his best friend Jay ran off to become a geologist (iykyk)

Eventually it got to a point where he couldn’t take it anymore, and when he got home one night after rehearsal, he ran to his room for an hour, and went downstairs, had a screaming fit at his parents from built up anger and sh0t them when they tried to soothe him.

Thing is, there was a sudden surge of acceptance from his fellow prisoners when he arrived at Happy Trails

Despite being surrounded by big burly tough men, he was treated as the head of the pack essentially.

I don’t know if it’s a thing that prisoners can get operations while in prison but since this is the MarkCU lets say at Happy Trails they can.

Yancy has some badass top surgery scars, which he has tattoos around for decoration

Going back to his childhood, there were a lot of “transmasc theater kid” things he did

(What im not projecting nooo)

For instance, he would exclusively play the male parts when he sang songs from his favorite musicals (specifically “Maria” from West Side and “Johanna” from Sweeney Todd”)

He would do a lot of one man plays on the school playground sometimes, and clearly wouldn’t like singing the female parts

It’s also in my headcanon that he’s (in this current year) 29, which would make him a teen between 2007-2013. Definitely believe he had a quirky transmasc ukulele phase.

Not theater kid related but when he was little, he was definitely the “girl who always offered to pick up chairs when a teacher asked for a strong boy to help” type transmasc

Back to prison

When he first got into prison, he used binding tape for so long until he was literally wheezing any time he ran so the warden was like “look son let’s just get you top surgery and that’ll do it.”

Absolutely made a joke about giving himself top surgery with a shiv he found

Warden was not too happy abut that

Another defying the logic of reality thing, but after he got top surgery, he gifted his chest to Tiny who is transfem

Now that he’s out of prison, he bought a lot of greaser-type manly man things to fuel his euphoria (a motorcycle, smoking a lot more, a lot more piercings)

He also returns to his hometown every now and then to spite the locals and steal their wives.

He’s just such a bad boy >:) /j

#markiplier #yancy ahwm #yancy #a heist with markiplier #damien #damien the mayor #who killed markiplier #markiplier headcanons #tw murder #tw transphobia

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murdersinthemaking · 6 months

Text

Day 1 of the Murdock / Hanukkah Series!

First up is an AU ship never seen before!

@freebirdyance

“You really ain’t been on a motorcycle? Ever?” After repeating his shock for the fourth time, Donovan’s answer has barely changed. Starting at a playful tone to nearing uncontrollable laughs, forced to put his drink down to save his clothes. “Yes! Is that the only reason you asked me out, to find out if I’ve ever been onstage a motorcycle?”

Once his laughing fit starts to die down, Donovan tries taking a sip of coffee again. So overly sugared and sweetened it might not even count as coffee anymore. “I barely even drive, and surprisingly none of the ‘bad boy’ wannabes I used to date ever had one.” Yancy immediately gave the impression of a well off businessman with a conscious, not a greaser with a named motorcycle and someone hanging off the back.

“If you’re interested, I actually came over here on mine. Wouldn’t mind takin’ you for a ride, darlin’.” Abandoning his drink on the table, Donovan is already reaching for his coat.

“If you say so, darlin’” he mimics.

#a stab at it #criminally in love #at last

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a-vamp-and-a-half · 3 months

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Oh Host you’re gonna owe me several favours after this

And a bucket

“He’s around here somewhere. We lost track of each other” she says honestly, heaving a small sigh as Ferox looks around “We’re looking for them”

"Oooooh, a hunt! My favorite!" She links arms with Yancy. "Use that plasma-sniffer, Mr. Greaser!"

"Don' work like that."

"It can!"

"There's way too many smells!"

"Awww, poor lil' guy! Fine, we go old-fashioned!"

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theauthorlives · 1 year

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Monologue - Father's Day

"One, two and -"

The grumbling from the greaser was reminiscent of musical timing as the bounces from the small ball hit the wall, the floor, and landed back in his hand.

It was Visitation Day, and Yancy had intended to spend the free time in his cell, armed with just a tennis ball that one of the guards had snuck in for him to borrow today. He sat on the bottom bunk and, after pushing the small table aside, had a clear aim of the wall opposite him. A half-hearted throw was more than enough to hit the wall, yet still provide enough momentum to give a bounce high enough for him to catch it.

"One, two and -"

By right, the tennis ball was contraband, but the older staff knew that today was an exception:

Visitation Day fell on Father's Day.

It happened every year. For many prisoners, it was the one day they looked forward to most in the summer. Fathers were permitted to have a longer time with their kids, and they were brought out to the main rec yard that was specially decorated for families to spend time together. It was a positive aspect of the rehabilitation process, Warden Murder-Slaughter had once explained. If a father could see the life he was missing out on, it would give him motivation to work toward parole and making a better life for himself.

(Of course, he also insisted the same on Mother's Day, although that fell on the second Sunday of May.)

Yancy was not the only prisoner in Happy Trails with a difficult family life. However, he was the only one presently incarcerated for murdering his parents. Not only that, this was the only day that he needed the extra eye on him.

Mother's Day was fine. He could make a passing gesture to mark the day and then bury his head in other tasks for the rest of the day.

But Father's Day...? That was always a difficult one, even from childhood.

"Now then, class. How is everyone doing with their Father's Day cards?"

A cacophony of excited chattering rose up in the room as all the 8 year olds tried to get their teacher's attention. Using a design on the board as inspiration, they were all encouraged to draw them and their dad or male guardian doing something they enjoy together. Some children drew sport scenes, others drew people playing video games, others even drew them walking a dog together.

One child still had an empty page, and this caught the teacher's attention. She walked over and gently tapped the child on the shoulder.

"You struggling to come up with ideas?" Her voice was soft as she crouched down to the boy's eye level.

"Mmm... Yeah..." He didn't lift his head to look at her. Instead, he was focused on arranging his colouring pencils into shapes.

"Well... What have you and your father done lately?" The teacher knew it was going to be a difficult answer. This child in particular had been uncomfortable with the topic of Father's Day, but nothing was on his record about a bad family life. If anything, the principal's only comment was that the father was particularly stern about his son's so-called laziness.

(The teacher wanted to argue that the boy did genuinely struggle in some areas, but she was in no position to overrule either her boss or the child's parents.)

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Don't do anything at home."

Ordinarily, the teacher would try to prompt further suggestions from her students, but she couldn't shake her hunch that this would be a bad idea. "Well, why don't you write 'Happy Father's Day' in bubble writing?"

It wasn't an ideal solution, but he couldn't go home empty-handed.

The house was buzzing with activity as the whole family arrived for Father's Day. Only the little boy and his older sister still lived at home, and the older two had moved out for lives of their own. They all sat around the kitchen table, drinking coffee and chatting about recent happenings.

The youngest sat on the bottom step, holding the hand-drawn card tightly with both small hands. Nerves had crinkled the page, and panic in trying to fix it only resulted in a small tear on the back. He didn't want to do this, but his teacher had said it had been so nice that anyone would like it.

And if she meant that, well... Maybe his dad would like it.

"Hey... Pa?"

He had shuffled into the room, wincing when everyone turned around to look at him. having five adults and teenagers giving you their full attention was nothing short of terrifying. But he had made it this far, he couldn't back down now. "Happy Father's Day. I made you this." The card was presented with both hands.

Sure, it wasn't as pretty as the cards that were bought, but there was still time put into it. There was no present either, but his mother never asked if he wanted to go to the store to buy anything.

(He was eight years old. It wasn't like he had a lot of money to his name.)

Silence.

His father skimmed the card and placed it on the table in the span of ten seconds.

"Is that everything?" A monotonous question broke the awkward silence. Yancy peered up, wide-eyed, at his father.

"I-I, uh, I don't have anything else -"

"Good. Go back to your room."

"Yes, pa."

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, in the hope that someone would comment on his card.

"He did a good job with that card. The colouring's getting better." The sound of the sister closest in age could be heard.

"He forgot the apostrophe in 'Father's'."

Ah. Of course the only comment his father would make was finding the flaws. He didn't know why he bothered waiting to hear. Disheartened, he trudged back upstairs and climbed into bed. What else was worth doing today after that?

"One, two and -"

The rhythm had increased. He was throwing the tennis ball faster. Every year as a child, he had tried to do something that he father might actually like. It was never good enough. At least his mother could lie and pretend she liked the art project he had to make in school.

"One, two and - and..."

He caught the ball, and his grip tightened on it. The urge to fling it at full strength and break something nearly consumed him, but he managed to pull himself back at the last moment.

"Fuck."

The tennis ball dropped on the drop as he fell back into the bottom bunk. He couldn't stick being alone today, but there was no one he felt comfortable spending the time with.

"Fuck this..."

#(what? You thought the earlier reblog was what I intended to do?)#father tw #parent neglect tw #trying the craft (mun drabble)#yv: don't wanna be free #(ask to tag if I forgot anything)

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westanthewaterman · 2 years

Text

Be Free - Yancy x GN!Reader

Rating: SFW

Word count: 1600+

Content: kissing, very slight angst but a happy ending

AO3 Masterlist

The gates to Happy Trails Penitentiary open with a loud screech. Yancy stands at the entrance for a moment, eyes fixed on the sidewalk outside the jail. Twelve years. Twelve years he spent locked up. He never thought this day would come, never wanted it to.

Until he met you.

Yancy had never cared about a life outside Happy Trails. He could never imagine himself anywhere else. But after you came along, suddenly it was all he could think of - a life, a home…a partner.

It took a year of good behavior, no stabbing, no starting fights. The warden almost didn’t believe him when Yancy said he wanted to apply for parole.

“There ain’t no place out there in the world for you, son,” he had said.

But Yancy disagreed. Wherever you are, that’s where he’s meant to be.

So he pushed and pushed until finally, the warden agreed. He had been scared to tell the gang, worried they’d think less of him, but they were all happy for Yancy. They all knew how much you meant to him. So the gang got together to throw him a going-away party; there was a musical number and everything. And after promising them he’d write often, Yancy gathered the few belongings he had and walked to the gate.

And now here he was, free for the first time since he was a teenager. He almost wants to turn around, go back inside, and tell the warden he was right.

But then a car pulls up in front of him. The driver's side door opens and you climb out, beaming at him.

“Yance!”

Yancy grins ear to ear, taking that last step through the gates and out into the world. He pulls you into a bear hug and you both laugh.

“It’s so good to see yous!”

You smile up at him, patting his arm. “I can’t believe you’re out. I…Yancy, I’m so proud of you.”

He beams.

You hug him one more time before gesturing to your car. “Shall we?”

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

The two of you climb into the car and Yancy looks over at you.

“So, where’s we going?”

“First, we’re going shopping because those clothes the warden gave you are…”

You trail off, looking down at the khakis and button-up shirt that was a size too big.

Yancy rubs the back of his neck, his eyes dropping to the floor.

“Yous know I ain’t got any money.”

“Yes I do, which is why it’s my treat.”

“N-No, I couldn’t ask yous to do that.”

“Shush. We’re going shopping, end of story.”

“Alright…if yous insist. But I’m gonna pay yous back once I find a job.”

You take Yancy to one of your favorite thrift shops and the two of you take as much time as you want, sifting through the clothes racks, giggling while trying on all kinds of silly things. Eventually, you settle on a few outfits for Yancy to get him started. He walks out of the store in a pair of distressed jeans, a white t-shirt, and a nice-looking denim jacket. It’s a good look for him, very greaser style, and you can’t help but stare just a little.

“How do I look?” Yancy smiles, turning this way and that.

You lick your lips, your mouth is suddenly very dry. “Good. Yeah. You look good.”

“Feels weird to be wearin’ somethin’ other than my prison digs, but I like it. Used to have a jacket just like this one.”

“It’s very you.”

The two of you head back to the car.

“Yous really don’t mind me crashing at yous’s place for a while?”

“Not at all, Yance. You’re always welcome. My place is a little small, but we’ll make it work.”

“If yous say so.”

Instead of driving north into town, you take a turn and start down a smaller, less populated road. Yancy looks out the window curiously at the trees and fields of grass that pass by.

“We’s not goin’ home?”

“I got a surprise for you.”

“What? No, yous already done so much for me.”

“And I like doing things for you.”

Blush colors his cheeks and Yancy turns his head to look back out the window. He feels guilty that you’ve done so much for him and there isn’t any way for him to repay you. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s some kind of moocher or that he’s unappreciative.

“We’re here!”

“Huh?”

You park the car in front of a small park and get out, going around to open the trunk.

“What’re we doin’ here?”

You pull a picnic basket and a blanket out of the trunk and shut the door. “We’re going to have a picnic!”

“A picnic?”

“Yeah, I figured it’s going to take you some time to get used to being back in society and everything, so I thought we could do something a little quieter.”

“Hey, that’s…that’s really nice of yous.”

“Come on, there’s a really nice spot up the hill a little.”

The two of you trek through the park to the top of a small hill surrounded by trees. There’s a small river at the bottom of the hill and the sound of the water bubbling and running fills the air.

You lay the blanket down on the grass and put the picnic basket on it before sitting down. Yancy just watches you, suddenly very nervous but he can’t seem to figure out why.

“Are you gonna sit down?”

“I…yous didn’t have to do all this for me.”

You groan playfully. “Yance, I told you already, I want to. I care about you.”

That makes something in his chest tighten painfully. You care for him? That’s not right. Why would anyone care about him? He’s a criminal, a murderer. He doesn’t deserve someone like you caring about him. You’re too good for him. You’ll never feel the same way he does about you. He should leave, tell you to stop wasting your time on him, tell you-

“Yancy.”

He blinks and looks down at you.

“Come here.” You hold your hand out for him.

Yancy takes your hand and you pull him down to the blanket next to you. Slowly, you reach out and cup the side of his face, giving him a gentle smile. The touch sends his heart beating out of his chest. When was the last time someone touched him in such a soft way? When was the last time someone looked at him like that?

“Tell me what you’re thinking about. What’s wrong?”

“I-It’s nothing. Really, yous don’t need to worry.”

“Yancy, talk to me. You can tell me anything, you know that don’t you? Do you not like the picnic? We can go home if you want.”

“No, no, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothin’, okay? Just nothin’.” He pulls away from you.

You reel back, your eyes dropping to your hands. “I’m…sorry if I’m being too much.”

The sad tone in your voice makes his heart ache and he knows he should just let it be. It’s better if you don’t like him anymore, but he can’t stand the idea of hurting you. Yancy reaches out slowly and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

“You’re not too much.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I’m not worth all this. I’m…not worthy of you.”

“You take that back right now.”

He flinches at the steel in your voice. “What?”

“Take it back. Yancy, you are worth more than anything to me. I don’t care what you’ve done or what kind of person you think you are. I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone and I’m not going to let you sit here and convince yourself otherwise.”

“B-But-”

“No. You are a kind man with a good heart and you mean so much to me. You have to understand that. Yancy, I love you.”

The words slip out before you can stop them. Both of your eyes grow wide as you stare at each other. He doesn’t say anything and you feel yourself starting to panic.

“Yancy, I-”

His hands cradle your face and he pulls you into a kiss. You feel fireworks behind your eyes and you grab the front of his shirt, never wanting to let go.

“I love yous too,” he says against your lips.

When you pull apart, you both have goofy smiles on your faces.

“So.” He smirks. “Was this yous’s plan all along? Take me out to the woods and seduce me?”

You can feel your face heating up and you groan. “Don’t make fun of me, okay? I thought it would be romantic.”

“Well, it is. Yous did a good job. Coulda used some candles though, woulda really helped set the mood.”

You groan, shoving him away playfully. “No. You’ve ruined it. Ruined it. Here I was, trying to have a nice, romantic date and you’re making fun of me.”

“I would never!” Yancy reaches for you but you bat his hands away.

“No, it’s too late. The moment is gone. We might as well just pack up and go home. Love is dead.”

He laughs and pulls you in for another kiss, smiling against your mouth.

“I love yous.” He whispers.

“I love you too, Yance. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too. Now.” He claps his hands together. “We gonna open this picnic basket or what? Let’s get some food goin’, I’m starvin’.”

You open the picnic basket and pull out drinks and two sandwiches.

“Alright, I wasn’t sure what you like so tuna or pb&j?”

Yancy looks at you with a fond smile as warmth fills his chest. He’s found his place in the world and it’s right here with you.

#yancy x reader #yancy x you #ego x reader #yancy x reader insert #jailbird #sfw #west writes #requests

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justdealingwithsomeissues · 1 year

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This is our Yancy Street Gang... though since none of them have more than 3 appearances it really isn’t worth going through the effort of tagging them...

I do find it interesting that they went with the little rascals interpretation of a gang as opposed to the more gritty 90s version of the word.. but this group has supposedly been around since the 60s so it tracks... though we know Ben’s brother was in the gang and DID die in a gang fight greaser style... so who knows...

#Marvel #Fantastic Four #Ben Grimm ~ Thing

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awholehoststan · 1 year

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given the blog i have to ask abt the host. and also obligatory damien & yancy asks cus i adore them

Thank you, a fantastic set of characters to rate

I’m giving Host a LORD HAVE MERCY and no one is surprised. Trench coats are absolutely my thing (I blame the superwholock phase), I have a strange fascination with eyeless characters for some reason (eyeless Jack was always my favorite of the creepypastas that got anime boy-ified by the fandom), and I am an absolute slut for a hot voice.

Damien is ADORABLE. If we’re were exclusively ranking his look in the DAMIEN video, he’d have a higher score because that’s one of my types. But as a whole, he’s just such a nice guy who genuinely wants to help and did not deserve any of what happened to him and is the kind of guy who would give fantastic cuddles and be very supportive.

Yancy is GORGEOUS. Greaser boy? Yes please! I like many others had to read The Outsiders in school and it changed something fundamental in me. Yancy would also be a great cuddler, and is very sweet, but he will also absolutely not hesitate to hurt anyone who hurts you. Overall, fantastic.

#the host #damien #yancy #answers for ask games

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greaserink · 3 months

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2019 vs. 2024 Yancy

#markiplier #ahwm yancy #greaser ink #yancy #ahwm #my first time drawing him vs. most recent

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xshatteredreflectionsx · 1 year

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five times glanced at:( five times the receiver noticed the sender stealing glances at them ) (Yancy, theauthorlives, OH MY GOD IT WAS SO HARD TO CHOOSE SEVERAL WOULD HAVE WORKED FOR THEM ;A; )

@theauthorlives

First Glance

Warden Murderslaghter shooed the two of them away with a cheerful wave as he tucked the box under his arm, indifferent to the fact that Mark was all but being choked by a police baton as the security guard forcibly dragged him away. He was shoved into the prison rec room roughly, flailing his arms to maintain his balance.

“I want you to know that I fully blame you for this,” Mark said with a hiss, tugging the hem of his prison shirt to smooth the wrinkles.

“We were chased out of the museum by guards with guns, I panicked!” Morgan argued back.

At one of the corner tables, Morgan saw him. A man who looked like he had just walked off the set of a 50’s greaser movie, tattoos and all. He just needed a leather jacket and a cigarette. He had been looking at them over a hand of playing cards, his gaze hardening to an annoyed scowl once he realized he had been caught. They could practically hear the “tha fuck are yah lookin’ at, yah mook?” from where they stood.

“I pAnIcKeD,” Mark mocked. Morgan leveled a glare at him, and he stared back firmly in kind. After a few moments he huffed out a breath through his nose. “Well, it looks like it’s up to me to get us out of this mess,” he said, rubbing his hands together as he glanced around the room. He slung an arm around Morgan’s shoulders to bring them in close, hand cupping around his mouth. “The prisoners look like they wanna start something, so we could incite a riot.” Morgan glanced up at the assembled prisoners. Some of them had ignored their presence entirely, too absorbed in their own activities to pay the new bloods any attention.

“... or we could- Oh for the love of-” Mark snapped his fingers sharply in front of Morgan’s face. “Focus! God, this is why I don’t work with amateurs.” He pulled Morgan to a small, empty table off to the side and plopped them down in an uncomfortably hard plastic chair. “Look. We both know you probably belong here-” Morgan kicked his leg under the table. Mark winced but continued unabated. “But I’d like for both of us to get out. So please, for the love of God, stop getting distracted and help me come up with a plan.”

Morgan blew their bangs out of their face with a huff and nodded.

Second Glance

Mark was... they honestly didn’t know where Mark was. Last anyone had seen of him, he had been punched through a wall by a guy twice his size and bulk. And against all odds, Morgan had been assigned to the same cell as Yancy- that greaser guy- despite getting into a fist fight with him. Maybe the Warden didn’t care enough to remember, or maybe he did it on purpose. Whatever his reasoning, they were suddenly in a very confined space with the same man they had given a black eye to not even a day previously.

Suffice to say, their plan to escape had gone so far south, it had burrowed into the center of the earth.

Yancy mainly stuck to his bunk once the prisoners were herded into their cells for the night, hopping into the one on top with practiced ease and pulling a pad of paper and pencil out from underneath his pillow. Morgan hunkered down at the small, yet oddly adorable plastic table and chair in the corner of the cell. It wasn’t that they weren’t tired, it was that they didn’t trust Yancy not to stab them in their sleep for disrespecting him in front of his crew. He had taken it well enough at the time, but that could have just as easily been to save face.

“Youse’s punchin’ form is shit. Jus’ so youse know.” Yancy said suddenly, looking at them from the corner of his eye. “Youse’s thumb was stickin’ out for all th’ word ta see. Surprised ya didn’t break it on my jaw. Jus’ wanted t’let you know.”

Morgan’s eyebrow quirked so high it nearly merged with their hairline. Of all the things he could have commented on, it was their punching form he settled on? They stared at his profile, lips settling into a hard line. “Listen. I don’t fuckin’ care what youse do here, just stop starin’ at me like that. It’s fuckin’ creepy.” He grumbled, not taking his eyes off whatever he was scribbling. Morgan tore their gaze away and looked down at the table, hands tugging at the ends of their hair.

If they could just touch the box, they could trigger one of those freaky resets and get the hell out of here. Sure, it would probably end with their death –it had every other time- but it would be better than... whatever this was.

Third Glance

“Okay. So, I just fuckin’...” Tiny stared down at the two lark’s head knots in front of her like they owed her money. Her eyes narrowed into concentrated slits and her tongue poked out from between her lips as she took the two outer cords in her hands. Outer left over the middle and under the outer right. Outer right cord under the middle, through the loop, and under the over the outer left. She pushed the knot up and repeated the process in the opposite direction. She let out a triumphant bark of laughter and held up a nearly perfect square knot. “Check this fuckin’ shit out!” She boasted. Jimmy the Pickle, already halfway through a masterfully crocheted scarf, let out a grunt. Morgan was fairly sure that was his Supportive Grunt. Maybe. Morgan smiled proudly and gave a supportive nod.

In the months they had been in Happy Trails, they had folded into Yancy’s gang surprisingly well. They even had a nickname: Snapshot (“Knots” and “Macrame” had already been taken by one of the kitchen staff and a creepy contortionist-turned-serial murderer respectively) and had formed an odd sort of comraderies with Pickle over their shared love of handcrafts; the hulking giant of a man knew how to knit, crochet and cross-stitch. No one who valued their faces dared to mock him for it. Tiny invited herself into their corner of the rec room one day since, quote: “My girl loves shit like this and I wanna surprise her next time she visits.”

“Christ, is he staring again?” Tiny asked. Morgan’s face flushed and they quickly turned themself in their chair. “It’s honestly getting embarrassing how often I catch him doing it.”

Mark had appreciated and marveled at Morgan’s crafts whenever they had a peaceful moment together, but he had absolutely no talent for it. It was nice to have a small group of people to swap techniques and trade bits of string and/or yarn with.

They set down their latest project –a small tapestry to add some color to their cell- and stretched their arms over their head, stretching over the back of their chair. When they opened their eyes, they saw Yancy at the table he and some of the other guys were playing cards. Morgan righted themself and turned around in their chair to face him, giving him a wave. Yancy, to his credit, played it off as smoothly as he could, pretending to peek at the cards Bam-Bam just dealt him.

Morgan scrambled for their notepad and quickly scribbled: “He doesn’t stare at me that often." Tiny and Pickle exchanged a look.

“You honestly don’t notice? Holy shit, you’re both hopeless.” Morgan asked her what that meant, but she flipped her hair over her shoulder and focused on her cords. “I can’t help you if you’re that blind.” She said. Futilely, Morgan looked to Pickle for clarification, but he continued to work on his scarf, not even offering a grunt.

Fourth Glance

Far, far away from The Happy Trails Penitentiary, a Mechanic and a Captain worked on a starship that would ferry over 100,000 souls to a new planet. It was a simple mission until it wasn’t; until time warped around them and space crashed into the ship with the fury of a hurricane.

Morgan couldn’t remember the circumstances that led to this particular scenario; something stupid they had said or done most likely. Whatever the case, Lady had gotten tired of playing nice, and ordered every able-bodied ship still receiving transmissions to open fire on The Invincible II, declaring it a threat to galactic order and offering a ridicuously high bounty to whomever could destroy it.

The Invincible II jerked violently as another barrage of gunfire tore into the hull, Morgan’s shoulder crashing painfully into a nearby wall. They clutched onto Yancy’s hand and forced themself to move forward, dragging him along. If he said anything, Morgan didn’t hear it; they were certain that they had gone deaf when that explosion went off on the bridge.

Celci and a team of officers from Cryo, Engineering and ADS had been ordered to evacuate to the new colony planet. The Cryobay also doubled as its own escape pod that could break away from the ship in extreme emergencies and was already heading towards the new planet. The Invincible II and her Captain wouldn’t live to see that new planet, not in this universe, but innocent people would. Celci would make a better leader than Morgan could ever hope to be (sorry not sorry, Mark, but Morgan had overridden Celci’s ASSHAT position once things started going to hell). When Morgan and Yancy made it to the escape pod bay, they wasted no time in shoving him into the nearest one.

These escape pods only had enough room and rations for one person. And... well... Morgan hadn’t been a very good Captain. The least they could do was go down with the ship.

Morgan was thankful for their deafness in that moment; they weren’t able to hear Yancy’s desperate pleas. Even muffled, they tore at Morgan’s chest as he attempted to force open the escape pod hatch, pounding on the porthole desperately. They inputted the new planet’s coordinates into the computer, looked at Yancy and smiled.

“I love you. Please live for both of us.” They signed, slow and deliberate. Yancy glanced at them desperately before his pod was shot off into space, far, far away from The Invincible II.

Fifth Glance

They weren’t scared anymore; they’d be back soon enough. But there was never a guarantee that Yancy would be counted among the crewmembers, so they resolved to save as many versions of him as possible. Anything to give him the life he deserved, even if they couldn't be a part of it.

Morgan re-adjusted their hair in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon, frustration seeping into every fiber of their being. They had styled their hair like this because it looked slick but still casual; now it was taking everything they had to not take a razor to their head and just start over. They’d probably regret it immediately after, and they didn’t even own an electric hair razor; so that idea was out. Eventually, however, they were victorious in The Great Blood Feud of Their Stupid Hair Curls and straightened out their outfit, satisfied in the way they looked. Their uniform was left on its hanger in their closet in favor of something that was more... them. Something airy and comfortable in purple and brown rather than stark white and black and gold.

Yancy didn’t even bother to knock before entering Morgan’s quarters, waltzing on in like he owned the place (which, to be fair, he partially did. No one needed to know he only slept in his assigned quarters just enough to avoid suspicion). His own uniform had been tossed aside in favor of a pair of jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a heavy black leather jacket. His gaze caught Morgan’s in their reflection, and he grinned, wrapping his arms around their midsection from behind and nuzzling into the crook of their neck and shoulder.

“There’s my Snapshot,” he purred. “Not that you don’t look fine as hell in your uniform, but...” He glanced up at Morgan with a half-lidded smile. Morgan rolled their eyes and pinched his cheek playfully.

“Demerit.” They signed.

“Ah-ah-ah. Youse ain’t the Captain today, remember? Youse is just Morgan, who I'm takin’ on the date I’ve owed them for way too long at this point.” A promise that had been made lifetimes upon lifetimes ago, before warp cores and wormholes and endless circles. When it had just been the two of them on a single bunk, limbs twisted together to accommodate both of them. A promise that Morgan hung onto in their darkest moments and carried with them from one universe to the next.

Morgan spun around in Yancy’s arms to look at him properly, so close their noses bumped. It was as simple as breathing to close what little distance was between them and seize Yancy’s lips in a kiss; the first in so, so long that hadn’t been desperate or hungry or salty with tears. Warm and tender and proof that the two of them had survived, and that they had the rest of their lives to spend as they wished.

(In Morgan’s ideal world, the rest of their lives included a marriage certificate with both their names on it and rings exchanged in a quiet clearing with only a select few present to act as witnesses. They wouldn’t ask today, but someday soon.)

#(This was a harder one because “glance” is so limited a word so I took some liberties)#(BUT I DID IT)#My heart lives behind bars (Morgancy)#(My beloveds ;u;)#theauthorlives #(Okay bed time now nighty night)

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