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angelofrainfrogs · 11 months

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Spend the Night: Ch. 14

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: The familiar melody of Grandfather’s Clock chimes through the echoing halls of the Pizzaplex…

Charlie wakes up in her Puppet’s vessel yet again with one goal in mind: to stop William Afton’s reign of terror for good. She enlists the help of Glamrock Freddy, the emphatic leader of the newest iteration of the Fazbear Band. But there seems to be more to this bear than meets the eye—and the same goes for the mysteriously familiar kid the duo find tinkering with animatronics down in Parts & Service.

With some help from friends new and old, Charlie’s journey into the bowels of the Pizzaplex will unravel mysteries none of them ever expected.

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Don’t lose heart

‘Cause you are

My superstar!

Don’t give up

With some luck

Together, we’ll make it, I know it

My superstar

~My Superstar by Kassa Jae~

“Don’t!” Michael yelled, lurching forward with arms outstretched as he realized what William was about to do. His shout made his father pause, while Gregory merely stared up at him with eyes full of utter terror.

“I… I-I don’t think he needs that right now, Father,” Michael continued, his voice low and placating. He attempted another grin, this one tinged with a hint of brotherly pride. “His body's much stronger than before already—did you know he managed to take down Monty? Even took his glasses as a victory prize! Show him, Evan!”

Michael hoped Gregory still had those shades he’d seen him slip in his pocket while they were in the security office. If he could somehow convince William that “Evan” was resilient, perhaps he’d ease off again.

“No—Evan did that?” William asked in disbelief, turning the boy around by the shoulder and looking at him expectantly.

This guy wasn't even Gregory's real father and his intimidating stare made Gregory want to sob the truth out. Yet somehow he had a feeling Michael really wasn't trying to get him killed, and that hope made Gregory shove his hands into his pockets for proof. After finding the broken shades that poked his palm painfully upon discovery, he held them out for William to scrutinize.

“...Ooo-hoo, look who's a big tough guy now.” Will began to laugh and poked Gregory playfully against his shoulder, causing the boy to tip slightly from how tense he was. The crazed murderer spoke as if his favorite character being replaced was a personal offense. “Isn't that something? Did it feel good, getting rid of that knock-off?”

“Duh, he was trying to kill me all night!” Gregory snarled in annoyance, which had reminded William of an unintentional little snag.

“Ah—I'll have to call them back to their rooms. 'Fraid the band's been a bit cranky. Sorry, kid...” The delusional man felt somewhat silly for almost making the same mistake twice. The needle was put away for now, but William had returned to holding Gregory's shoulders to keep him in place.

“He’s been so brave, going up against all those cranky bots!” Michael praised, copying William’s language in a subtle attempt to gain more favor. Crouching down, Mike grinned widely and held his arms out wide for Gregory to run into. “I’m super proud of you, Evan—can your big brother please have a hug?”

Hopefully William would either let him go willingly, or his grip was loose enough for Gregory to break free. If not, Mike was running out of ideas…

Gregory was stuck between a rock and a hard place. William had allowed him to approach, no longer afraid of Michael's wrath as Gregory gently pulled from his hands. The boy was shaky, holding his trembling arms out as he trusted the cunning fox. It was his only chance, after all.

“Look at that,” William said, choosing now to lean his chin into his empty palm. “It makes me happy to see you two get along. Especially after all that nasty business so long ago...”

It put a bad taste in William's mouth to even mention it. Even if hearing that made Gregory hesitate, he still reached out for Michael's hug.

Michael moved fast—the fastest he’d moved since being bonded to Foxy. Hoping Gregory would forgive him for the physical and mental jerking around, Mike grabbed one of the boy’s outstretched hands and practically threw him towards the Fazerblaster.

“Grab the gun and run to the nearest elevator—I’ll meet you there!” Michael hissed, then before anyone could react he used his leverage from crouching to launch at William. He slammed into the rabbit with a sickening crack, getting in a few good scratches as his hook and sharp nails connected with William’s shoulders while Mike pushed him backwards, crushing the rest of the foam wall in the process. His goal was to keep William down as long as possible so Gregory could get to the elevator, upon which Michael would ditch his father and rush to Gregory’s aid.

Fuck the last Checkpoint—Michael would physically pry those elevators doors open if he had to in order to keep the kid safe.

Gregory didn't look back—he couldn't for fear of freezing up again in his tracks. That man petrified him. He sounded like Michael; even had similar mannerisms. But knowing what he’d done creeped Gregory out to the point of being unable to act or fight.

The horrified shout of Michael tossing his brother hard, sending the boy stumbling to pick up the blaster gave William barely any time to react. He reached out for Evan, only to be thrown into the ground with the crunching sound of metal singing his descent.

“Evan! Wait—HRRK!” William struggled to say as he attempted to pry the hook from his chest. Right now, they were in a death lock. With William's legs poised against his son, pulled in close by the hook imbedded inside him, they could easily do damage to one another. One kick could pry apart the joint in Michael's hip or crack his casing.

“Michael—you really lied to me,” William murmured in disbelief. Michael was trying to pry the family apart just as soon as they’d gotten it on track. But the manipulative Afton patriarch knew exactly what would disturb his son. “The apple doesn't fall from the tree, huh?”

Michael froze. Yet again, he’d been compared to his father, the man he hated more than anything in the universe. The fact that William was the one saying this made it all the more skin-crawling.

Mike had come to terms with being cursed with the face of a murderer. Honestly, after the initial horror of the Ennard incident wore off, there was a minuscule part of Michael’s mind that was thankful for his rotting face—if only because now he’d no longer be compared to William Afton.

But to compare his personality… that was too much.

For a moment, Mike didn’t know what to do—he wanted to scream, to rip his father’s face off, and to run away at the same time. Then he heard the faint sound of Gregory’s tiny shoes pattering away, and his mind was made up.

“Fuck. You.” Michael snarled, angling his hook so it would do as much damage as possible. Then, with a sharp tug, he ripped a hole right through the outer casing of Bonnie’s suit, the screeching metal echoing through the arena. “I'm NOTHING like you!”

William had no clue whether to laugh or shout from the simulated pain. He kicked Michael as he tore a jagged line through his protective outer shell. As his foot made contact with what would've been his son's guts, Will made an awful sound before moving to clutch the cavity in his own chest. The tear had made William's left arm incapable of movement, locked now between the ground and his angry child.

“I did this for you—” he attempted, messing with Michael's head between the assault and the words he knew stung the worst. “—bringing back Evan, Lizzie. Hell, I'd bring your mother back for you, if I could! But you were always ungrateful. Every opportunity I gave to you, you squandered!”

“Ungrateful?!” Michael’s voice was pitched high with fury, his heavy weight keeping William pinned for now. “What did I even have to be ungrateful for?! You might've thought you were giving me ‘opportunities’ in your deluded mind, but you gave me nothing!” He snarled again, bearing down on the rabbit’s pinned arm and hearing another satisfying crack.

“Nothing I actually needed, at least—but you wouldn’t know that, would you? How could you, when you barely talked to me after Evan died?” Michael’s eyes were hard and cold, the hatred leaching out in waves. “You were a horrible father, William... and I'll never forgive you for all you’ve done.”

William let out a worried yelp as his arm was bent unnaturally, attention now captivated on his son. In a way, Will could see the irony. He inhaled upon seeing the twisted metal limb snapping in Michael's hands, the joint broken but unsevered at the elbow.

“Now what?” he asked slowly. “Do you want me to apologize? You'll never forgive me... I'm not sorry for trying to immortalize my loved ones.” In his mind, William hadn't done anything wrong, but the shame he could feel from Michael's glare burned worse than the external limb damage. “So do it. Kill me. I'll just keep coming back again and again until I can make all of this right.”

How could he? When he'd already messed everything up this badly?

There was no fixing it. The least he could've done was grieved and moved on with the remainder of his family. But William couldn't even do that.

“I... have to make it right. What kind of father am I...?” William stopped. He couldn't finish the thought, or perhaps he answered his own question. Beneath Michael, the tension of Bonnie's limbs softened, Instead of holding the cavity in his chest he allowed his hand to fall to the side, leaving himself open and defenseless.

Michael raised his hook high at the sight of his father lying prone beneath him. This was it—this was the moment he’d been waiting for all these years. He could finally get revenge on all the agony and torment this creature put his family through. The sharp, golden tip of the hook reflected the neon lights of the Fazer Blast arena as Mike prepared to strike—

“Oh Miiiiiiichael~”

The fox startled, whirling around. Shit—he’d completely forgotten about Vanny. Of course she’d be spurred into action at the notion of her savior in danger. He barely caught sight of her at the other end of the room through the fog… but clutched in her arms was Gregory. She held him with his back flush against her, one arm wrapped firmly around his torso while the other was cinched around his neck—not tight enough to choke, but the threat was there.

“Don’t you want to help your little friend, Michael?” Vanny asked, her tone sickly sweet with false sincerity. She wouldn’t hurt him, not unless William commanded her to, but she could at least hold him captive until her savior was free.

Michael only had a second to make a decision: rip his father’s mechanical guts out, or get Gregory to safety. Of course, his answer was obvious.

There wasn’t time for any more poignant words. Michael simply pushed himself off William’s body and rushed Vanny, ripping her arm away from Gregory’s throat faster then she could blink. She let out a yell of pain and let go of the boy’s torso as Michael unintentionally twisted her wrist a bit too far in his panic, everyone in the vicinity wincing at the cracking sound. He’d definitely dislocated something, if not broken it entirely.

“Sorry, Vanessa,” Michael murmured, knowing that despite it all, she was still just William’s pawn with no free will of her own. He hoisted Gregory into his arms and rushed to the elevator, wary of his hook as they ran.

William had given up the chase before it began. When Vanessa went to run after the pair, he called her back to him.

“Forget them! Help me!” he commanded, pushing himself off the ground with his good hand. William spoke in a tired manner, watching as his family slipped through his fingers again. “It looks like we'll have to go with plan B, Vanny dear...”

Gregory's grasp on Mike's coat kept him from falling. He was sure Michael's gait would be fast even if he'd been given two working legs and not a peg. Really he couldn't complain, as Michael turned out to have been fibbing to his father, lying about luring Gregory to Fazer Blast for part of this convoluted scheme. When Vanny took Gregory's weapon and held him at the neck, Gregory had surpassed a level of stress and fear that left him unable to speak. He merely clung tightly to Michael and was unwilling to raise his head from the other man's shoulder in their whole escape. Even at the piercing sound of metal being forced open in the lift, he wouldn't look up.

To Gregory’s benefit, he had a strong grip. He remained latched onto Mike as the fox shoved his hook into the joint between the elevator doors, using both arms to pull the doors apart enough to slip inside. As soon as Michael released his hold, the heavy metal slammed shut and he frantically slapped the button to take them up and out of this hellhole.

Michael didn’t think he’d look at laser tag the same way for a very long time. He only allowed himself a sigh of relief when he felt the elevator move. Slowly, carefully, all too aware of the incredible trauma Gregory must be going through, Mike shifted him into a proper hug. He held the boy firmly, though nothing close to constricting—he could escape the embrace with a simple twist, which Michael kept a lookout for as he murmured comforting words in Gregory’s ear.

“It’s alright; you’re safe now—we’re both safe. He can’t hurt you anymore… I’m sorry I scared you earlier, but I promise I’m on your side.” Michael’s voice caught slightly as the gravity of what could’ve happened to the innocent boy began to hit him. “I-I promise, Gregory… He’s never getting his hands on you ever again.”

Gregory wouldn't realize it just then, but a fear of needles had imbedded itself into him now. Whatever was inside that hypodermic couldn't have been good. The more Gregory tried to push its shimmering glow from his mind the more he would hyperventilate. He completely soaked Michael's shoulder with his tears, sobbing outwardly as he held on like Mike would suddenly turn to mist and leave him all alone.

“He—He was gonna stab me!” Gregory sobbed. That was all he could say before devolving into a shivering husk, curled into Michael's arms for comfort as he allowed himself to slowly be soothed. Even when they reached the top level, the kid was still sniffling back tears.

“But he didn't,” Michael soothed, rocking him ever-so-gently. He was already trying to step out of the elevator before the doors opened, ready to get the hell out of this attraction.

Tonight was rough, no doubt about it. But what happened back there rivaled Monty Golf in traumatic experience.

To their ironic luck, they'd managed to take the “winner's elevator,” which deposited them in a lounge overlooking the entire arena. Michael resisted the urge to peer through the glass and see what happened to William and Vanny—knowing their tenacity, they were probably up and about already. What Michael did focus on, however, was the shining golden Fazblaster set up on a pedestal in the center of the room.

Well... it seemed like they'd acquired a gun after all; the mission hadn't been totally pointless, though the trauma they'd both received far outweighed whatever protection the new weapon could give. Michael carefully grasped the Fazblaster with Gregory balanced in the crook of his arm, then swiftly exited the room. Thinking they'd won, the arena was now happy to open its doors as they traveled down a hallway of flashing lights towards the exit. As they reached the final door leading to the lobby, Michael could hear someone banging on the other side—hard. He instantly tensed, mentally cursing their luck.

Great, just what they needed—another bloodthirsty animatronic to fight off. Just as he started to plan the best way to take down a rabid wolf or chicken with Gregory still in his arms, a familiar voice instantly blew all worries away.

“I hear someone approaching—Gregory? Michael? Is that you?!” Freddy's voice was frantic and strained, the clawing on the door only stopping when it finally opened to reveal the pair in question.

“No, no no no—” Gregory could only imagine William was behind the door before hearing Freddy's voice.

Everything was too much, all he wanted to do was hold onto Mike and just hope that he woke up in a cardboard box—that all of this was just a nightmare and he’d really made it outside before closing time. When the door opened, causing Charlie to snake around Freddy and quickly scope for danger, Gregory sobbed out loud again, rubbing the backs of his fists into his eyes as his tough kid façade dropped even farther.

“Da-aaa-d!” Gregory hiccupped, afraid of the consequences Freddy might have in store for doing something stupid and dangerous. When thinking about that and the deranged psyche of William Afton he was quaking against Michael's coat.

“Oh my goodness—what happened?!” Freddy exclaimed, his tone full of nothing but concern. He wasn't mad at Gregory in the slightest, but the boy was too emotional to know that yet. The bear reached his paws—er, claws out, the limbs having been successfully replaced by Monty's. They were shiny, free of blood, and so gentle as he took Gregory into his arms that it was hard to believe they'd been used to attack said child a few hours prior.

“Gregory, it is alright!” Freddy soothed as Michael handed the boy over without question. It only took a small effort to dislodge Gregory's grip, and though he might've slightly protested in fear of Freddy's wrath, Michael could tell the bear was absolutely beside himself with worry and wouldn't hurt the kid in anyway—physically or mentally. As soon as Gregory was safely in Freddy's arms the bear hugged him close, feeling the trembling hiccups and half-sobs the boy was still letting out as he clung to his metal dad for dear life.

“My dear boy, you are safe—whatever happened in there is a thing of the past,” Freddy continued, totally in comfort mode now. “I love you very much and I am here to protect you; you will be alright. Just relax and try to take some deep breaths. There you go—wonderful, superstar. Keep that up.”

Charlie quietly stood and overlooked the touching scene of Freddy comforting Gregory. Now she could really see what Michael was talking about. The resemblance to his late brother was shocking—especially when he had cried like that. She watched until his sobs fell into tired little hiccups.

It wasn't long before Gregory could look up from Freddy's chest plate while Michael began explaining what just transpired. He felt the need to interject Michael's retelling to emphasize portions of it, including when Vanny grabbed him after William almost pricked a needle beneath his skin.

Soon, exhausted by the end of Michael's dramatic story, Gregory's eyes were shut in rest. Not quite asleep; his heart was racing far too fast for that. But the bags forming under his eyes were starting to ache from keeping them open.

“You poor things...,” Freddy murmured, giving Michael a look of utmost sympathy as he rocked his son, the action seeming to make the boy's heartrate calm little by little. “I am sorry we were not there to help you.”

“Not your fault; we shouldn't have—” Michael paused, then gave a sharp shake of his head. “No, it wasn't anyone's fault we got stuck in there—except maybe whoever designed those stupid doors!” He glared at the entrance as if he could burn a hole through it with his vision, then seemed to visibly deflate. “...We shouldn't linger here; let's get back to the security office.”

“Yes, I think that is wise,” Freddy agreed, already making his way to the exit. “You both are in desperate need of a rest.”

Lo and behold, 4:30 had come and passed by the time they had left the Fazer Blast, luckily with no rabbits chasing them down. Charlie had thought of nudging Gregory to walk on his own, but the exhaustion on his tired face made Charlie think twice.

As they walked, she looked towards her taller friend and whispered. “You sure you're alright, Mike?”

Ghosts may not exactly need to sleep, but they could still get burned out. The only issue with them resting may mean Gregory was exposed to danger. Though it was hard to imagine forcing him to strive for escape when he was curled into the crook of Freddy's arm, reclined like a tuckered cherub. She couldn't imagine doing that to Michael either—not with the tired expression he wore that screamed of disappointment and a deep sadness.

“I'm fine,” he replied, terser than he'd meant it to sound. He couldn't afford to rest—Gregory needed him, and so did Charlie. Hell, even Freddy now fell under Michael's umbrella of “friends I'll protect until I die for good.”

William was still at large, and though he was damaged, he was still a huge threat. Whatever was in that needle was bad news, and Gregory couldn't be exposed to it again in any capacity. Michael just wished he'd had the forethought to as least give that a good punch and smash it to bits before getting off William earlier...

After a moment, Mike let out a sigh.

“Actually... no, I'm not fine,” he admitted, soft enough for only his old, dear friend to hear. “My psychotic father just tried to inject my brother's lookalike with some horrible shit right in front of my eyes, and I was barely able to stop him. He still thinks Gregory is Evan, and he's not going to stop until he has him again. I... I don't know what to do, Charlie. How can we end this?”

He looked at her then, eyes haunted far beyond the capabilities of an animatronic. He would still protect his friends until his soul dissolved into the ether—there was no question about that. But it did feel good to finally admit that he might not be the steadfast, unbreakable warrior he needed Gregory to think he was.

Charlie didn't have the answer, even if she wished she did. Gently, she held Michael back and allowed for Freddy and Gregory to walk from earshot.

“I don't know... We might need more time than one night can afford. We can think of a plan after you and Gregory get some rest. You can't look after anyone if you're not feeling well,” Charlie offered, keeping her tone calm and even as she tried to convince Mike he’d worked himself over tonight in trying to keep everyone safe. “We'll all be safe in the security hub. Promise.”

Michael Afton had changed so drastically since the incident when they were younger. He’d lost so many people around him, the thought of losing anyone else caused an anxiety unlike Charlie had ever seen. When he stressed over keeping the others safe, he did so with the full fear that something bad was going to happen. She couldn't blame him, or ask that he changed. But Charlie understood his plight secondhand witnessing Michael's nervous breakdown over the night.

He looked at her for a moment longer, the fierce anxiety in his brain telling him that nowhere was safe, they would always be in danger as long as they were in this cursed place, and there was no escape.

But there was nothing but sincerity in Charlie's words. Her expression might be static on the surface, but Michael could tell she was smiling at him underneath it all. Even if she couldn't truly guarantee their safety in the security hub, her words of reassurance were enough to keep Michael going.

“...Okay,” he relented with a nod. “Okay. We'll regroup and rest for the night, come up with a plan, and get this thing sorted before we know it.” His speaking aloud offered another level of personal reassurance that Michael couldn't afford to lose tonight. He cracked a small grin, nudging Charlie's shoulder in an expression of deepest camaraderie.

“Thanks, Charlie—for still looking out for me after all this time. You really are my best friend.” He chuckled as heartily as he dared in the open hallway. “You should've known you couldn't get rid of me that easily—we always said we'd stick together to the end, didn't we?”

Michael had been the only tether she had left to her human life. When things were much easier and life involved just going to school and eating pizza at their father's shared workspace afterwards, Charlie could remember a time where her first worry in the day was whether or not she could sleep in five more minutes before being officially late for first period bells...

For her and Michael's sakes, she wished that she could go back to it with him. But sadly, the only way left to move way forward with the things they knew now.

“Well yeah—you would’ve grown up to be a menace to society if I didn't talk you out of half the stuff you did,” Charlie replied as if it were her civic duty to hang out with him. Though, bashfully, she admitted “And I probably wouldn't have left the house much if it wasn't for you. So... Of course I'd stick around.”

Charlie had told Mike this before, but stood to remind him again: “Friendships like these are unconditional, you know? I'll always be there for you.”

“And I'll do just the same.” Michael patted Charlie on the shoulder as he walked past her through the security hub door. He looked around for the others, spotting Freddy sitting in one of the office chairs with Gregory now cradled in his lap, the exhausted boy still resting against his protector's metallic chest.

“Hey, Freddy? Charlie and I think it's best if we stay here for the rest of the night,” Michael said quietly as he approached the bear. He didn't think Gregory was asleep, but he couldn't be too sure with how still the boy was save for the rise and fall of his breathing. “This is probably the safest room in the Pizzaplex, and with all the damage I did, I doubt you-know-who is going to make any moves right now until he's recovered somewhat.”

“I fully agree,” Freddy replied with a nod, looking up at Michael briefly before refocusing his attention on Gregory. “My superstar is clearly exhausted, and I am certain that you need to rest, too. It will do us all some good to take a break.”

Charlie crawled on the floor across from where Freddy and Gregory sat. Quietly, she put her two cents into the conversation.

“I hope you put a hole in his face for me,” Charlie wished, alluding to the damage done to her own painted mask. It wasn't like she had much to pride herself on when it came to appearances, but ruining the minimalistic marionette's mask made Charlie feel more like a creepy doll than she ever did before.

She would save her rantings. She glanced over to Gregory, who loosely held onto Freddy's claws while he slept and looked as if he’d begun to finally relax.

“...Hey, Mike, turn the key on my back,” Charlie whispered, facing away from her pirate-themed friend. A little melody from the old music box couldn't hurt Gregory's chances of sleeping.

Michael did as instructed, winding up the key before settling down on the floor next to Charlie as the familiar melody began.

When he was younger, this little music box song had really freaked him out—especially after Charlie died and the Puppet seemed to move in weird ways out of the corner of Michael’s eye. Even when he got a little older and worked in a new restaurant with some of the same old cast, that song only served as a reminder of his impending danger—if it stopped, the Puppet would be after him, and she was not the animatronic to trifle with… especially with Michael having the unfortunate face of her murderer.

But now, as he sat next to his good friends, Mike found the song almost… soothing. Certainly not as much as Gregory though, whose grip on Freddy’s claws became lax as the tension in his shoulders finally started to release.

“Thank you both,” Freddy whispered, running a gentle claw through Gregory’s hair as he smiled down at the boy with all the love a proud father could give.

Sound asleep, the nightmare of tonight was over and thankfully Gregory would prove to be far too tired to dream of anything. The memory of anything fictitious made up inside his head would disappear upon waking.

“No problem.” Charlie curled on the floor, tucking her limbs in close to her body as she whispered. Freddy's further affectionate gestures prompted her to ask something she hadn't yet gotten to: “So… when did you adopt Gregory, anyway?”

It was asked in a somewhat serious tone. If Freddy wanted to keep Gregory, she had the feeling based on the kid’s apparent willingness to be adopted by a robot bear that not many people were really looking for him. Good thing he was already so loved at the Pizzaplex.

“Oh! Ah, well…” The question took Freddy by surprise, his eyes shifting away as he tried to think of an answer. His first instinct was to deny this claim—of course an animatronic couldn’t adopt a human child; that was ridiculous!

…But if there were any beings in the world that would understand and accept this strange predicament, it was the two sitting in front of him. Besides, Freddy knew that at least Michael heard Gregory refer to him as “dad” on multiple occasions.

“Well, I wanted to keep Gregory safe since we first met him tonight, though it was not long after I separated from Michael that I realized I could not let him go back to that foster home,” Freddy explained, speaking softly to avoid waking the boy in his arms. A slight frown crossed his face as he remembered what Gregory said about his living situation; Michael may have been in control of Freddy’s body at the time of Gregory’s confession, but the bear heard every word. “Despite the situation happening right now, objectively Gregory is safer with me than with humans that neglect him and will continue to do so. I decided that I would do my best to keep Gregory safe by my side, though I let him approach me emotionally on his own time.”

The soft smile was back now. “After we faced Monty, we stopped by the gift shop to get supplies and Gregory let the ‘dad’ moniker slip; I did not have the heart to correct him… Nor do I want to, I must admit. It… it is nice to feel so trusted.”

Sometimes the technological innovations at Fazbear Entertainment amazed the Puppet. Not only was there a robot sitting before them both that could analyze and feel complex emotions, but also had a better fraternal instinct than some human fathers she’d seen in her time.

Charlie had a feeling something was majorly wrong with Gregory's living situation. His concern involving this place never centered on the fear of where his parents might be, or if they were worried. In all the lost children she had seen, they never failed to mention that they missed their families and wanted to return to them. Though Gregory didn't seem to have anyone.

“He does need someone to look after him,” Charlie said, her head relaxed over her arms, using them as pillows and to be able to look up at her friends. “He's too sweet of a kid to be left behind.”

It made her think about her own situation. The day she was left out... Everyone had forgotten about her.

This isn't about you, Charlotte, she’d think to herself. As long as Charlie kept thinking of others, she wouldn't have to focus on the ugly truth of what happened that night.

“Agreed,” Michael said, gently patting Charlie’s back. Thankfully, he’d made sure his hook side was away from her when he sat down. He could tell she was thinking about something, probably slipping into the past just like he did. They had a lot to reminisce on, after all—both good and bad. Michael looked up at Freddy, meeting the bear’s gaze with an approving grin. “And I think you’re the perfect bear to take care of him. It’s clear he cares for you a lot already.”

“Your approval is both greatly reassuring and appreciated,” Freddy replied. He paused, then added in a soft, somber tone: “I am… sorry you did not get the parental affection you needed when you were younger, too. Based on how you are now, I am sure you were both wonderful children.” He gave the pair a little smile. “I wish I could have met you back then!”

“You would’ve been a few decades too early, Fredbear,” Michael said with a laugh, though it sounded a bit hollow. For as good as Freddy was at detecting subtle things, the robot could still be unintentionally blunt at times.

What would his and Charlie’s lives be like if William hadn’t been such a horrendous person? Or, the better question: would they have actually had lives to lead in the first place?

Unfortunately, without a way to go back and rewrite the past, the answer would forever be a mystery.

Charlie liked to think they’d only be dead on the inside if William managed to be a real father. Or had at least told his kids: 'It's alright to be sad because I'm sad, too'. Maybe then she would still be alive. She and Michael could be old people right now with their best years well spent and looking forward to retirement.

Charlie's fists had curled tightly, then released. What was the point in being angry over it? It was done.

So why couldn’t she just let go?

Charlie looked to Michael after his comforting touch. “My dad probably would’ve just adopted you, you know...”

Henry adored Michael. Maybe it was because he was William's son, or that he genuinely loved being his honorary uncle.

“If only…” Michael heaved a long, simulated sigh. Thank god one of their dads had been decent, at least. Henry did what he could for Mike over the years, despite the great toll Charlie’s death took on him. Michael didn’t want to be a burden to the only paternal figure that did seem to care, so as time went on he found himself lying more and more about how okay he was doing.

“Everything’s fine, Uncle Henry! I promise; I’m alright.”

The blatant fib still hung heavy in Michael’s chest. Surely Henry knew he wasn’t telling the truth—if it was that hard for a grown man to lose one child, he had to realize how Mike must have felt losing his sibling and his best friend. Especially since Evan’s death was—

“Are you alright, Michael?” Freddy asked, his head tilted in concern.

Mike looked down to find he’d been clenching his fist so tightly, there were now faint dents in his palm from his sharp claws. Michael simply nodded, trying to push the memories away. The last thing he needed right now was to think of Evan’s final birthday party—the start of it all. They wouldn’t be together in this room right now hiding from crazed animatronics if it wasn’t for Michael’s actions all those years ago…

Charlie perked up, looking over as she heard the metal in Foxy's hands pop back into place. Using her quick thinking, she told Freddy: “He's probably thinking about that time that Evan ate all those ice pops and threw up in Lizzie's toy chest.”

Charlie averted the sad thoughts to a better time. A time where she laughed so hard her sides felt as if they were going to split and her head would explode from their collective volume.

It wasn't Evan's fault by any means. After finishing every blue ice pop in a 100 pack box and running around in the hot summer air thanks to his brother’s encouragement, Evan began to feel nauseous. When Mike took Evan upstairs a bit too late to reach the bathroom, Charlie got to witness him evacuating his stomach into Elizabeth's toy chest, much to her dismay. A sticky blue coating that didn't wash off had stained the plastic chest, making it a horrible biohazard that remained untouched for a long while.

“It's okay, Mike. That story makes me feel sick, too,” Charlie pardoned, the sound of a smirk in her voice as she relaxed against the cool office tiles once more.

“Oh my god—the ice pops! Ohh—sorry!” Michael grimaced as his voice came out louder than he’d meant it to in his excitement. He hadn’t thought about the infamous ice pop incident of ‘81 in forever!

“That was a fiasco… I told Evan to eat as many as he wanted, but I didn’t realize he’d eat the whole box!” A snicker escaped before he could stop it, and he instinctively clapped a hand over his snout as if that would somehow help him keep his volume down. “He couldn’t look at anything blue for weeks! Remember when you got that new shirt, Charlie, and you wore it to play like two days afterwards? Evan took one look at it and immediately lost his lunch in the bushes!”

Freddy simply watched with a small smile as the pair reminisced. It was still hard for the animatronic to fully understand how ghosts worked, but times like these really proved that Charlie and Michael had once been living, breathing humans. They’d had full lives ahead of them… until those were brutally cut short.

Freddy realized that he still didn’t actually know how Charlie and Michael died, nor any of Michael’s siblings… but he certainly wasn’t going to ask. If they wanted to share such personal details, they’d do so in their own time.

Extending her arm, Charlie lightly smacked Michael’s peg leg while looking like she was struggling to hold in a laugh. She wheezed out a pathetic, “Nooo…,” while remembering the dreadful amount of times Evan had lost his lunch because of them.

“That kid had the stomach of a cocker spaniel,” Charlie compared, having to physically restrain her laughter by covering her broken face with one of her hands. “Oh—I felt so bad… That was literally the last time I wore that shirt.” She ended up retiring that new, blue Fazbear-themed shirt and just hung it on her wall to admire before drifting off to sleep.

“Speaking of getting sick,” Charlie begun to say, having a feeling that Michael already knew what story she’d remind him of next. “Working at Freddy’s over the summer, if a kid threw up you had to throw this pink… Sawdust stuff over it. We put a bunch of it into a bucket over the day manager's door and dumped it over his head—”

She forgot exactly why they’d done it. Probably to get fired, in all honesty. They loved visiting the diner as kids, but working there was another story.

“Uncle Henry was so mad!” Michael couldn’t contain his laughter anymore. “I think that’s one of the only times he actually lectured us… which was a good thing, because damn did he let us have it!”

Michael’s stability was becoming compromised as he cackled. It only took a playful shove from Charlie to send him sprawling on his back, arms and coat splayed out at his sides. The pair laughed for a little while longer until it slowly petered out, and Mike turned his head to look up at Charlie with a sigh.

“You know, we had some great times back then,” he said, and though his eyes were tinged with their usual deep-rooted sadness, for once the happiness of remembering a life long-past with friends seemed to win out. He lifted his head slightly to peer down his snout at Gregory, wondering if the boy had been woken up by their antics. He gave another huffing chuckle, pushing one of Charlie’s legs as he sunk back onto the floor. “God, imagine if we grew up in this place instead… we could get into so much trouble—it’d be amazing.”

Charlie let out a dreamy sigh. They would be two kids in a candy shop—literally. Not only would they have been relatively unsupervised, but once kids found out their fathers owned a mall with hourly concerts performing at them, they would never run out of friends. Though, Charlie was glad they grew up with their humble, leaky roof diner. Somehow she didn't think she could take the pressure of being a popular kid... Michael on the other hand she could see basking in the fair-weather love easily.

To keep them in good spirits, Charlie suggested: “We should take Gregory roller skating. People still roller skate, right?”

If she wasn't at Freddy's, Charlie was always trying to get the Aftons to go roller skating with her. Now that she reminded herself of that, Charlie was fairly certain that she wouldn't be scared of William so long as she remembered him as the uncoordinated skater in homemade jean shorts that held onto the banister or Henry the whole time.

For a rare moment, Michael also remembered his father as something other than the vicious, immortal murderer he was now. A snicker escaped the fox as he recalled their skating trips—man, did his dad suck at keeping himself upright.

“Yes, roller skating is still a pastime that people participate in,” Freddy replied. His smile was still prevalent, though his eyes held a touch of what could only be likened to regretful sadness. “We do not have a rink in the Pizzaplex, however, so therefore I would not be able to go with you. I cannot leave the building—without a recharge station, my systems would shut down within an hour. It is a safety precaution. Even the manual charging cord will not last forever.”

This was a line of thinking Freddy was shocked he hadn’t even considered. It was all well and good for him to take care of Gregory within the Pizzaplex, but… what if the boy wanted to leave?

No, it wasn’t a question of “what if”— it was a question of when? He was only twelve—not even a teenager yet. Freddy couldn’t expect the boy to completely cut off contact with the outside world just to stay with his adoptive robot father for the rest of his life.

Freddy’s gaze shifted to the fox lying on the floor. This issue begged another question: now that Michael was tied to a Pizzaplex animatronic, would he be stuck in this place just like Freddy?

Although, he hadn’t seemed to actually need to recharge like a normal animatronic, so… perhaps his ghostly nature might work in his favor this time.

This made the smile fall out of Charlie's voice.

“Oh...” Was all she could muster. She’d never been tethered to this franchise like the others. Charlie could go anywhere. It was apart of the Puppet's design, to follow Charlie and keep her safe when she needed it. So long as she wore her little green bracelet, Puppet went everywhere she did

(She still had that green bracelet—tied to the spine of her endoskeleton...)

“He doesn't know, does he?” Charlie managed to ask, watching Gregory's peaceful face as drool leaked from the corner of his lips. The kid was out cold.

Charlie refused this answer. Gregory needed his dad. And frankly, they needed Freddy as well.

“What if—and this might sound crazy... We build new bodies?” Charlie postulated, propping her head onto her hand. Despite the latest Fazbear designs being technological wonders, the design flaw of not being able to live outside the Pizzaplex posed too great of an issue for Puppet to accept.

Freddy frowned at this notion. “I… do not see how that is possible. I may be able to perform basic repairs and have an intimate understanding of my internal systems in this particular Glamrock Freddy model, but I do not have the technical prowess to build a new body from scratch.”

“…I might, though.” Michael’s voice was quiet as his mind rapidly began processing Charlie’s suggestion. He sat up, legs stuck out in front of him and resting his arms in his lap as he slowly thought aloud. “My father taught me everything he was able to about animatronics, and what I didn’t pick up from him I learned on my own. I’ve had a hand in building and repairing countless robots—I bet if we found some blueprints to work off of as a basic guide, I could whip something up in no time. Especially with that huge warehouse of parts… We probably have everything we need right below our feet.”

“Well, I… I do not know,” Freddy said hesitantly. It sounded like a good idea on the surface, but could they really pull something like this off? Regardless of William’s virus-based threat, it would be quite a feat to create new bodies that weren’t latched onto the Pizzaplex’s admittedly flawed charging system.

“Come on, Freddy—we won’t know until we try it out,” Mike encouraged. The excitement at the prospect of a new mechanical project to put his technician skills to good use was getting to him. “It’d be a crude design at first, I’ll fully admit that, but it’d be a start. Worse case, it doesn’t work and we just scrap the whole idea. But Charlie has a point—that kid in your arms isn’t going to be happy to find out that you’re stuck. We have to at least try.”

Charlie knew Michael would be on board with the chance to create something worthwhile that left all of them hoping.

“I could easily move you from Foxy to a new body. Gregory said he was good with coding, right? He'll be able to switch Freddy over once we work out the more technical bugs!” Charlie mused aloud, working out the details in her mind.

Although… totally abandoning this place wasn't ideal; those other children still needed to be put at rest. As this thought crossed Puppet's mind, Charlie began to fret some.

“If we find those other kids—the ones on the missing posters—I could leave a Gift for them...,” she mentioned, looking down at her hands. “You know, before we leave and everything.”

“A Gift?” Freddy questioned, glad for the slight shift in topic. He wasn’t saying “no” to this crazy scheme, but he definitely needed time to think things over before fully committing to the idea of moving to a new body and leaving the only place he’d ever known. “What sort of Gift, Charlie?”

Michael grimaced—it hit him that while Freddy accepted their strange supernatural situation, there was still so much he didn’t understand. Then Michael remembered the whole reason he’d hopped in Foxy was because Freddy had been down for the count, so the bear didn’t actually know what Charlie had done to move him. He probably thought Michael simply hijacked his old friend’s body the same way he’d hijacked Freddy’s own.

“Charlie is… a special ghost,” Michael began, his speech a bit stilted. It might be best for Charlie to explain the details since there were aspects of her Gift even he didn’t understand, but he could at least get the conversation started. “She’s got… well, I like to call it magic, but I suppose ‘powers’ is the better term.” The fox’s head tilted towards the Puppet, his long mane brushing over her thin body as Michael silently prompted her to continue.

“Oh yeah...” Charlie, when she’d begun to bestow these 'Gifts,' hadn't realized the full ramifications of her actions. The precise correlation between a deeply traumatic death and fusing those souls to metal and circuit boards were still unknowns to her. She just knew she had to do something for those poor, terrified souls.

The day she watched in horror as that golden bunny took children one by one from the main party room was forever burned into her brain. The fact he tried to make it nice for them was sickening. The presentation of birthday cake and presents. Old, out of commission boxed arcade games fixed and powered on at the children's whim...

Every soul was innocent. In their words, it'd been their happiest day.

When William left, Charlie had doled out her Gifts. Presents that mattered most. She tied their souls to the animatronics they had been stuffed inside of. Angry, vindictive children that cornered anyone who even remotely resembled the security guard that took their lives.

This, Charlie attempted to explain to Freddy as delicately as possible, without touching on her own death. Sometimes she still wondered why her?

“I thought he cared about me—us... Why did he do that?” Charlie asked this pretty casually, as if this question was simple. “I know he missed Evan. I was only trying to cheer him up. How was I supposed to know he'd be mad at me...”

Whatever happened in alleyway where Charlie was found had triggered it all. Knowing her, it'd been a prank—ill-timed at a point where William felt most impulsive.

“I heard a story once that the more violent your death is, the scarier you are as a ghost... Do you guys think that's true?” Charlie remarked after her grim tale had come to an end.

“Well… maybe,” Michael replied softly. Hearing Charlie’s story of trying to give innocent, dead children new life spelled out so casually, as if she were discussing the latest weather report was jarring. She said so many things Michael didn’t know, so many facts he hadn’t been aware of until this moment… the whole situation was even more horrific, though Mike didn’t know how that was even possible.

Still, it wouldn’t do to dwell in the past—especially not with the utterly sympathetic but confused face Freddy was giving them.

“I don’t think that’s completely true, though.” Michael gave Charlie the faintest of grins, despite the underlying horror of his next words. “I mean, my death was pretty bad, too… and look how I turned out!” He nudged her again, maybe a bit too hard to match the strength he used to push the worst of the memories down.

There was a beat as Charlie glanced over Mike, recovering from the nudge before belting out with laughter. Her way of coping was strange, though she was sure that Michael could relate.

“You're right—that was pretty brutal and you just turned into a marshmallow.” Charlie giggled, quickly quieting herself as to not disturb Gregory. Thankfully the kid slept like a rock through their little therapy session. She was happy that her friends didn't see her choice to give the kids a second chance at life as barbaric or cruel. Even if one of those Gifted kids thought that way...

“Seriously—I think you turned out great, all things considering,” Charlie stressed. She knew how badly her friend tended to doubt himself, and hoped these encouraging words did something for him as she went back to a state of calm about their situation.

“Thanks; so did you,” Michael replied, the sincerity behind his eyes clear as day. After another moment of silence, Freddy chimed in.

“I think you both turned out to be wonderful souls,” the bear murmured softly, his grip on Gregory tightening as he thought about what could’ve become of this child had all of them not been there to protect him tonight. “Your compassion for others is unrivaled; you have shown more love and protectiveness towards Gregory—and even myself—than I have seen a lot of guardians show towards their children when visiting the Pizzaplex.”

He gave the pair on the floor a beaming smile, his face as kind as an animatronic bear’s could be. “I am honored to call you both my friends.”

Charlie hadn't thought of it in that light before. As Freddy praised their behavior, she considered his words. Not only were she and Michael lucky to have at least grown into fairly functioning adults, they were lucky now—Freddy had been a blessing in disguise. The apparent culmination of both hers and Mike's childhood fears turned out to be their only friend in this whole mall. Any mistrust of one another had left long ago.

“I think we're going to be okay, guys—as long as we stick together,” Charlie murmured, feeling rested and relaxed behind the secured doors of this central hub.

***

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Looking for more? Check out the Chapter Masterlist on Tumblr!

Or check out the entire Wires that Bind Us Series on ao3!

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lord-shitbox · 6 months

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gozumezu thought dump. you are not prepared for the word count on this one

^me looking at a picture of a katana (gozu has one of those)

he has 2 japanese swords hes only drawn with one in his first several manga appearances but hes got 2 in the later cameo towards the climax of the uhhh. spiral palace arc? where kuroumaru says hes got a crush on tsurara. the anime gave him 2 always.

anyway thinking SOOOO hard about mezu behaving in fucked up ways. i think his puppetry is solid Hatsu level but what about Hyoui (invocation & possession fear/osore) levels). the fear that cuts through fear. I think his puppetry doesn't work by physically forcing his. puppetees(??) to move around so much as it controls their minds... like:

that yokai professor he was puppeting at the very first rikuo goes to nejireme / umerakuen arc in volume 2: he was able to control what the dude was saying by speaking himself, and when he detached the strings the guy "woke up," confused by his location

when he puppets torii and maki, they are put in a dazed/unthinking state

just went back and squinted at the gozumezu spy arc (ch 37+) i think Gangi-Kozou was gozumaru's brainwashing chant, actually..

regardless like. I think his fear strings take over his puppets' brains & force them to move their muscles rather than literally pull their limbs into place like inanimate puppets in real life behave. speech wouldn't be possible otherwise & it explains the lack of consciousness in his puppets.

notes..offensive mezu abilities.....

I have to add this in: the "anti-yokai wards" in the ANIME were talismans placed by mezu against non-gyuki yokai [because the resort is actually run by the Gyuki clan] but in the MANGA it's a whole metal garage door to physically block invaders because the resort belongs to Kiyotsugu's family & hes rich. Negoro and Uwajima smash it open. so I don't consider the talismans to be anything relevant

ability to control corpses? they don't have minds but nerve impulses could be simulated... it would take like. a LOT of energy though. a living person has energy in their body to generate muscle contractions n shit because theyre alive. dead people dont though. maybe it'd be easier to puppet a corpse to move so violently their body starts falling apart than it would be to do that to a living person. thatd compensate for the extra energy itd take

transform the material properties of the strings to be like needles /spikes or wires capable of cutting?

gozu's brainwashing chant is underrated & something the anime cut out, actually, so im like the only fucker thats up and caring about it ,

i think mezu becoming a strong strategist would also be nice & in compliance with his position in the clan in canon. he commands the ushi-oni corps (sidenote ushi-oni is the exact same kanji as Gyuki, gyuki is just read as a compounded word & ushi-oni is read like the kanji are standalones) & also has the job of Control Gozu as the vice- young head of the gyuki clan. i think his silly charisma would make for an interesting dynamic with the rest of the warriors in the faction, even tho NONE OF THEM ARE SHOWN it's implied they're ruthless like Gyuki & Gozumaru. having some silly guy who's not even that strong command you might lead to some resentment, & ithnk mezu maintaining his position despite not being particularly strong on ihs own would b interesting...

a few ways i think someone dissenting against him could go. 1) mezu puppets other members of the clan against the dissenter. 2) the rest of the clan is like "shut up man he's our silly little guy." 3) gozu pulls up & is like "shut up man he's MY silly little guy (deputy younghead) hes working here to help ME out." 4) gyuki i think would be like "you doubt my judgement?" with a really scary glare & if they continue to oppose him he either challenges them to a duel or makes gozu do it.

anyways. new train of thought

mt nejireme is probably rigged to shit and back with traps. mezu pours marbles down the stairs type shit. rikuo's probably grown out of traps now that hes 12/13 instead of 8 but he would probably have fun setting them with mezu

12 yr old day rikuo is trying too hard to be normal & doesnt want to inconvenience everyone but i think end of manga rikuo is probably restabilizing as a Happily Weird individual & would be down with pranks again. night rikuo would participate & be like. what hey who did that. not me. wow mustve been the wind

similarly i think gozumezu 14 yrs old era would be living hell (really funny) they would get into NASTY arguments like gyuki throws them out because they dont shut the fuck up level bad. mezu would go "visit" the main house (he'd bring gifts, bought with gyuki's credit card, which is ok because it's for the main house and appropriate :> gyuki wont mind [he's right]) and have a generally nice time hanging out there. gozumaru would be miserable though hed be like FINE ill be on my OWN. living on the streets for a while kind of miserable. i think it'd be interesting if he wound up at that one Tengu's place... the forest near Kyoto where Rikuo has another training arc with Gyuki. He'd go train with that guy for a while before eventually going back home to Gyuki and saying sorry. Mezu would eventually confess to the people at the main house that he's there because he got in trouble & they would be like go home and say sorry itll be okay :) #friendshipismagic etc. he does & they make up yayyyy the arguing resumes in a week and a half

just checked im thats like 950 words. as is normal and standard. thanks come again

#shitboxposting #nuramago #my gyuki clan fixation induced selective blindness goggles are Severe i remember everything about ONLY the gyuki clan bits #the rest of canon is just lost on me. i forget that there are like 23 volumes of this that have absolutely nothing to do with my blorbos

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mk-wizard · 3 years

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Hellboy Films: Why animated did better than live action

Hello, friends

Many of you may not know this, but out of all the superhero comics, Hellboy is my favourite. What can I say? As a little girl, I was a misfit, so a misfit hero like Hellboy was right up my alley and the concept of someone being born to be bad to turn out so good because he had a loving father to show him the way is beautiful. My introduction to Hellboy was the first live action film in the 2000s and at the time, I liked it, but then I started reading the comics. Once I got to know the real Hellboy and series, the more I fell in love with the comics yet at the same time, the more I go to not like the live action films and not just because I found the sequel and reboot in 2019 bad. There are many problems with the three live action Hellboy films which rub me the wrong way and not simply because they are live action. Most superheroes started off as cartoon drawings, but were well done in live action, but Hellboy missed all the notes. Now as a mature adult woman who is experienced at storytelling as well as analyzing, I rewatched some of the live action and I took time to watch the animated films. The difference in quality is night and day (no pun intended and I will give links to the animated films because they are stunning). I will now tell you all where the animated films went right and how live action went all wrong.

1- Hellboy’s design was better in the animated films. - I am more than willing to be forgiving when it comes to taking artistic liberties. Sometimes, the results can be beautiful, but in the case live action Hellboy, it was all wrong and I have to blunt, we can do so much better with graphic design now than just simply taking a tall buff man, putting make up and props on him. I hate sounding mean, but both versions just look like a guy wearing a cosplaying as Hellboy. It would have been much better if Hellboy was completely and entirely CGI or perhaps even an elaborate puppet costume like the ones used in the Jim Henson films. It may sound like enough to give the hero red skin, a stone hand, horns, a tail, cloven feet (which are covered), amber eyes, pointed ears and be very tall. He STILL looks too human compared to the comic and compared to what movie makers can do, it’s lackluster.

Now, we turn to the animated version which did more than just the obvious. Hellboy isn’t inhuman looking just because of the said traits before. He is inhuman because of his proportions and shape especially his face. It is a confirmed fact that he is not just not human. He is ugly and animalistic looking. His features are the combination of a satyr and gorilla especially when you look at how thin his legs, jaw, shoulders, posture and so on. Also, his eyes aren’t just amber. He has no pupils, no schlera (the white part) and no irises. The entire eye is nothing, but amber which makes them disturbing to look at. He cannot simply cover his face, tail and hand, then simply blend in. He cannot even wear most human clothes hence why Hellboy is always shirtless and his hooves are exposed. In other words, animated Hellboy looks like Hellboy.

2- The animated plot was clean, to the point with no filler. - While I admit the first live action film kept it pretty simple, I find that it still had a lot of filler and too much subplot. If you ever read a Hellboy comic, you will know right off the bat that Mike Mignola is a master at the art of pacing without fluff. Yes, he respect that character development and buildup takes time, but he doesn’t drag things. Ever. And he does not make everything so angsty either. Yes, he hints that the characters have issues, trauma, emotional pain and at times, depression, but he did so without making them into whiners. For the most part, the cast and hero would pick themselves up and do what they had to like adults. If anything, they were also each other’s emotional support and they don’t hate people. The animated version captured that completely and even showed us that the cast did not consist of malcontents who played the “poor me” card to death. In the beginning of Blood and Iron, Abe, Liz and Hellboy were happily talking about a bakery they had found once which reminds us that with all their hardships they do seek and accept joy in life even from something as simple as good pastries.

Moreover, the plot of the film was to the point with some amount of subplots, but without getting complicated and without the subplots contradicting each other. Everything had a way of coming together neatly and even though we did sometimes get surprises, they didn’t feel like filler. They felt like things that were always there, but now, we are aware of them. Most importantly, there was no cheap or silly selling point tactics like relationship drama or the stereotypical father-son bickering (more on this later). Hellboy is not that kind of story.

3- The subtle messages and morals in the animated films were deeper and better. - Being the mature adult I am now, I can say that the first Hellboy really was just Beauty and the Beast while using the Hellboy cast instead and it presented in the message in all of the outdated and bad ways. Don’t get me wrong, I find the idea of Hellboy falling in love romantic and I admit that underneath all of the darkness and action, everything about Hellboy comes back to love. However, it is not romantic love where the end all be all is to be accepted by humanity by getting into a relationship with a human, then turning into a handsome prince even if only metaphorically. The deeper and more important kind of love Hellboy tries to teach is self love how you are regardless how strange people deem you. If you have done something with your life and made something of yourself, then it is ok to be you and are already more loved than you realize. The other kind of love that has always been important to the series is family unity. You see, Hellboy, Liz and Abe are like siblings to each other and Prof. Bruttenholm is an incredibly loving father figure to all of them namely Hellboy who he raised since he was a baby.

He made the big red guy into the man he is today. In fact, even as an adult, Hellboy and Bruttenholm are a very sweet and kind father and son duo. They are not at each other’s throats, they don’t snark at each other or are incapable of agreeing on anything. There is no spite, there is no anger, there is no resentment and there is no ingratitude. There is only love and honestly, THIS is the love that ought to be showcased more in the films.

With that all said and done, the animated films also had their subtle deep messages which we not only understand clearly, but we also appreciate more. In the first movie Sword of Storms, it was all about finding a balance between persevering and knowing when to let go. In other words, keep doing what you must if it is still relevant and making a difference, but if it isn’t and is the reason you’re stuck, by all means quit. There are many roads to closure. In the second one Blood and Iron, it was clear from the beginning that the message was to not underestimate the elderly. They may not be as strong as they once were, but their experience and wisdom gets them and you out of tough spots. They have been through everything before and know what to do. By all means, aid them and help them, but don’t treat them like helpless babies. I also have to say that when I look at the messages the two animated films were telling us, they are not only clearer, but pretty underrated ones too. In the case of the live action films, the messages were muddled if not done before.

In short, I look at the animated films and I’m impressed. If another live action Hellboy does come along, I hope that this time, it will be done right and I really don’t want to see relationship, gore fests, snark or family drama again. Of course, this all my opinion and I would love to hear all of yours.

Thank you for reading and stay safe.

EDIT: Wouldn’t you know it? I forgot the link to all things Hellboy Animated. Here it is https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hellboy_Animated

#hellboy #mike mignola #abraham sapien #liz sherman #abe sapien #professor bruttenholm #kate corrigan #roger #dark horse #comics #animated #film #movie #love #quality #demon #half demon #hero #superhero

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bewitching-elizabeth-olsen · 3 years

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Press: Elizabeth Olsen and Jurnee Smollett Compare Notes on Genre-Blending Acting and Advocating for Performers on Set

VARIETY: Neither Elizabeth Olsen nor Jurnee Smollett are strangers to having to really stretch their imaginations to dive into complex characters and even more complicated worlds.

Both have superhero films on their résumés: Smollett portrayed Black Canary in DC’s “Birds of Prey,” while Olsen stepped into Wanda Maximoff aka the Scarlet Witch’s shoes for Marvel’s “Avengers” franchise and then some — including Disney Plus’ first Marvel series, “WandaVision.” They are both now Emmy-nominated for projects that tasked them with jumping through time, blending genres and telling epic love stories (Olsen with “WandaVision,” Smollett with HBO’s “Lovecraft Country”). And, even though they are up in different categories (Olsen in lead limited series/TV movie actress; Smollett in lead drama actress), both of these shows are one-season wonders, leaving the performers and their audiences wanting more.

Olsen and Smollett dissected all that of when Variety brought them together post-nominations to talk about their celebrated roles and surreal playgrounds.

You both had a lot of magical or otherwise surreal elements to interact with on your shows. What did you actually have in front of you to react to on set?

Jurnee Smollett: We were very fortunate on “Lovecraft Country” because the whole VFX team worked so hard to create an atmosphere that was also practical in our space. I remember on Episode 3, the exorcism scene, we shot it over a course of three days and, while there was not a man in real life with a baby head on him, you’ve got the wind machines and the pictures are blowing and all the special effects makeup is being touched up. Atticus [Jonathan Majors] has pretty much turned into a rabid dog and I’m doing this spell with my ancestors and whether they were shooting behind us or shooting the elements, we were at our max capacity regardless because that’s just how we approach the craft. It was such a big sequence to shoot that that’s when the actor in you has to advocate for your instrument. I did go to the director and say, “Can you jump in and cross shoot Jonathan and I?” As an actor it is our job to shoot however many takes, however many angles you need, but then it is also our job to advocate for yourselves. And I love playing in this space because you get to use your imagination you get to go to crazy places. Because even while the practical elements are there; you get to go to crazy places. But I was grateful for the practical elements because it’s just so much easier.

Elizabeth Olsen: Did they have pre-viz so you knew what some of the supernatural elements looked like?

Smollett: With the Shoggoths they not only had a pre-viz for us, but for some of the scenes they had massive sculptures, like a dude standing there in a green suit with a Shoggoth head. The pilot we didn’t have this puppet, but by Episode 8, maybe we got more of a budget or something, but eventually we did get a puppet — which was really cool because you could see, “This is the moment his mouth is opening.” But also, Misha [Green], our showrunner, she just wants more blood, more dirt. She’d try to get them to blow spittle at us.

Olsen: That’s so gross!

Smollett: This concoction of Shoggoth spit, throwing it in front of this wind machine. I find the more practical stuff we have to work with, it just helps so much. And then there were the moments where it’s like, “No it’s just a green tennis ball and an X, and go.” How about you?

Olsen: For all those little things in the air and stuff in the ’50s, it was really important to our director [Matt Shakman] that we did everything ala “Bewitched.” It was all camera tricks, it was all wires. Our head of special effects had a lineage of a father who [did] special effects before him, and so puppetry and wire work and stuff like that were things that were already in his vocabulary, but we would have our special effect guys who are used to blowing things up and putting things on fire just balancing and making sure things aren’t swinging but they have to move. Even in the ’70s when she’s pregnant and everything’s in chaos, we really had a picture on the wall going in circles; they just figured out things with magnets.

When we were filming the finale, it was during COVID, during the fires last summer, and we shot Kathryn [Hahn’s] side at the beginning of the episode when she has my boys with her magic — we had to shoot them out because you always have to shoot the side with the kid out and also Kathryn was doing wires for the first time and of course it was with a corset and it was really hot and really bad air quality and so she had to be sent home by the medic at the end of the day. And so, on my side we were running out of days, and I think we had 35 minutes to shoot my side and my reactions to all of that, and there’s quite a bit of back and forth and throwing myself to the ground and hitting a different mark that will then stitch with the stunt double being pulled. I did a weird one-woman show sans kids, sans Kathryn. Our stand-ins were such a huge part of our show and I was so grateful to have them they’re reading lines with me, and our director, Matt Shakman, was like, “If you feel like you can’t do this, we’ll just do this tomorrow.” That gave an adrenaline rush to me and it just became, “I’m just going to do it.” There’s a lot of fear when you’re like, “Oh I don’t have the elements and I am on my own, literally.” But I’ve had to do this before and I’m just scared to do it because I feel stupid. But I already look kind of stupid — I’m shooting things out of my hands — so why don’t I just lean into it as full as possible and just do it and find it in some core, guttural space of desperation? That day was bizarre, but I was actually very happy that I didn’t put it off. I feel like sometimes as actors when there are things that make us nervous it’s like, “Oh we don’t have enough time to explore so let’s do it the next day if we can,” and then you’re in your head all night about it. And so, it’s nice to just do it, even if it feels silly.

Smollett: I’d imagine surrendering and using the fear and all that that you were feeling probably served you so well in it.

Olsen: And don’t you feel that, though? When you feel unsupported you just want to break down in tears and you’re not supposed to break down in tears or you’re not supposed to have those it’s those feelings in the moment, but there are other times where it is really useful and there’s something freeing about channeling it in some way.

Smollett: Yeah and it’s that word you just used: freeing. Being able to surrender — leap and the net will appear. And you’re right, if you would have gone home, you probably would have come back the next day and you would have overthought it. There’s something about using the adrenaline in that moment that I don’t think you can really teach an actor to do; it’s just experience. Because we go and we prep and we do all these things, and then you get to the set and there’s one distraction, two distractions, and those are the elements that just through experience you’ve learned to use.

But I have to say, when I was little, I used to go to sleep every night watching Nick at Nite and “Bewitched” was one of my favorite shows. I did not expect you guys, at all, to go to land of “Bewitched.”

Olsen: I didn’t either. I’m so grateful to it. I felt like I like forgot my body as an actor. You’re a very physical actor, so I feel like you probably don’t have that experience because you just seem so connected and free whether it’s on stage or doing action. And I really felt disconnected from my body until “WandaVision.” I was like, “Right, I have posture; I can walk; I have legs — all of these things are going to be telling the story and it’s period and so I get to move differently.” It’s been a while since I needed to create quite a different character, and it felt so good to wake up my body to the full character work.

Just watching you in the first episode on stage, I was like, “God damn, I want to feel that free on stage with a song and with an audience.” I’m a self-conscious actor when it comes to extras and things like that. There’s something about it where the crew’s the family, and with extras, I feel so vulnerable. And you seemed so at ease and in control and confident. It made you understand her fierceness and how fearless she was.

Smollett: Thank you so much! It’s so interesting that you point that out because, for me, singing in front of people terrifies me. It truly is one of the things that terrifies me the most. The thing about Misha’s writing is, she finds a way to teach you so much about a character in such a small amount of time. And in that first sequence we learn so much about Leti, from that fearlessness you talk about, the ease that she has in herself and in her person, but then you learn so much about her hypocrisy and the contrasting ideas that are at play inside. She’s a very complex one. In the scene with her sister where she’s talking about having dreams of pioneering into an all-white neighborhood in 1955, but she can’t afford to may for socks. [Laughs.] She didn’t come to her mother’s funeral, and yet she’s here yearning for some sort of family connection. And so, I just remember reading that and feeling so drawn to her and feeling like it’s a side of myself that I needed to unearth — there’s a Leti in me that I desired to actually be, but sometimes am not. And it’s interesting because through Leti, she really forced me to do so many things that I hadn’t done before and really become more fearless, become more unbound. It was just such a very cathartic experience for me.

Olsen: I felt that way with getting to do this sitcom comedy part. I felt like I was touching my childhood version of myself who was a ham doing children’s musical theater, who just who just like played for the laughs or whatever — that part that I don’t access at all, really, when filming. And Kathryn Hahn was such a force and Paul Bettany raised to the challenge, as well, of these comedic performances that were really physically funny. I started to get more comfortable — in the ’60s, ’70s, really got comfortable — and it was so much fun to touch that child that maybe was told too many times, “Oh, you’re such a ham” or you just felt like your big personality as a kid was not OK or wasn’t as appropriate. And so, getting to play with that was really freeing and very fun. As you were saying, there’s a release I needed to have, and through the comedy I was able to have it.

How did this sense of empowerment affect how you carried your own characters’ power? Was there something your character that inspired you to advocate for yourself or did advocating behind-the-scenes inform in-world behavior?

Olsen: I felt very lucky coming into this, because this is a world I know. And so, where my voice of advocacy came in was for actors who are coming into the world — like Teyonah [Parris], wanting to make sure that she had everything that she needed to understand where her character was going because this was a character that’s going to continue [and] if she had everything she needed for stunts. And then similarly with Kathryn, she didn’t realize there was someone who she could use to teach her hand gestures for her magic. And so, she was feeling nervous and lost, like, “How do I do this thing?” And I was like, “Oh, how do you not have that information!?” And then having a conversation with whom you need to on the crew up top and figure out how to keep everyone else feeling like they had everything they needed. And luckily, because this was a show with characters that Paul and I had before, the pieces came together and it was a situation where your voice is welcomed and heard.

From “Sorry For Your Loss,” the TV show I did with Facebook, I now have a producer voice that I can’t shut up. I now just need to talk to ADs a lot, and I need to talk to line producers a lot. I realize that I like having — especially if I’m No. 1 on the call sheet; if I’m a primary part — all of the information so I can understand why decisions that seem weird are happening, or else I’m going to get in my head about, “Why are we doing this this way? I just let people know that off the bat now because it makes me less of a control freak, having information. And it is a team effort and I think the actor’s value has changed in that in that respect. There’s a lot more opportunity for women to be vocal now, and so I’m just really seizing that opportunity.

Smollett: It was a very personal growing experience for me. It was time of transition [and] I’m still going through that transition in my life. In order to truly surrender and do the text justice, there was so much I had to bring to the altar every day to sacrifice. I remember talking to Jonathan about that, and he would refer to it as allowing your heart to break and hoping that the Holy Spirit would put it back together. She was essentially a woman trying to navigate her womanhood but she was never actually allowed to have a childhood. She was habitually abandoned by her mother and didn’t know her father and there’s something in that parental-daughter split that I found myself really relating to. Oddly enough like Leti, I was estranged from my father for years. He eventually passed away, really before there was that healing and so, oh man, it brought up so much shit with Leti. How does she see the world? She sees the world through the eyes of an abandoned child. With Leti, that made her overcompensate; with Jurnee, it made me shrink a lot. When you talk about that artist child, those of us who have been in this business for so long, you take on all the sensors. And I found myself just trying to love her a little more. One of the things I admired so much about Leti is this desire to love herself — this real desire to own herself unapologetically in a world that told her she was too Black and female, to exist in her entirety. It’s still a transition that I’m in, but I definitely feel so grateful to have been able to walk through some of that and navigate through some of that with Leti. But that’s, I think, the blessing and the curse of being an artist. You’ve got to be willing to bring your whole mind, body and spirit to it; nothing’s off limits.

Jurnee, the last time you spoke with Variety we were all assuming you’d get to return to this character, but now that HBO has said it’s not being renewed, do you have unfinished business with her?

Smollett: It’s no secret I’m heartbroken. I loved Leti and of course would have loved to continue playing her. But I am so incredibly proud of the work that we all created together — it feels so special and unique — and I am finding peace in that. We’re artists and there’s an endless well that dwells inside us— and there’s so much that’s out of our control. And I think I’ve done this long enough and I’ve experienced enough heartbreaks to know you don’t get attached to the results too much; you just try to stay in a moment. And I feel just so proud and blessed to have been chosen to go on this ride with these collaborators, so I am more so in the place of gratitude than loss.

On the other end of the spectrum, “WandaVision” was a limited series but Wanda Maximoff is a character you have been coming back to for years, Elizabeth. How do you approach that longevity — the changes in her, the changes in you and the interest in revisiting her at all?

Olsen: I’m 32 and I was 25 — so seven years ago — when I did the first one. There’s so much change that I’ve had, even as an actor and how I approach work and, I think, honor work so much more in the last five years, four years of my life. [Jurnee’s film] “Birds of Prey” feels like such a female-empowered thing, so I feel there’s a really incredible energy to beginning it, but then with me you hear people make comments about Marvel movies and it affects your own process. “WandaVision” really shook that up for me and made me reinvest.

Smollett: I so want to know your process with that because the comic book space was new for me. I’d been a fan; I’d seen all your movies and the other movies. How did you navigate all of those voices? Because they can be very loud.

Olsen: Luckily and also frustratingly my character was always this emotional anchor to a piece of the story. It was like the heart, if there’s a heart. Paul and I were the only romance that was really fleshed out in those movies. And so I just treated it like I would anything. And then, we have a really fun time filming “Avengers” And so it’s really goofy and the Russos are great. And so we, it feels light-hearted, and it feels like we have the last laugh at the end of the day. But when it comes to the reinvesting, that’s the whole mind game, right? Because you just hope that it continues to have this quality control, but the more the more things get made, you’re worried about that. Especially because I did a show on Facebook that was scripted, and I didn’t love the way they handled it. And it was hard. And so second season, we went back and we literally, as a team of producers, had meetings with people who ran Facebook Watch about where we thought they could improve. We had a whole presentation for them. And then eventually, they were like, “We’re not doing scripted anymore.” And so I didn’t have the greatest experience being a part of the launch of another streaming service. And so, the Disney Plus part made me nervous and then bringing these characters that are so big to television made me nervous. But Kevin Fiege explained to us that that they were not going to cut corners, and they’re going to try and create the same attention to detail, and they did. And I think it was really important for them to have that care for these first three shows that they were putting out because it was defining a new thing for them. And so, we were taken care of.

I think more for me with this with the reinvestment moving forward, I never had a six-movie or nine-movie thing; it was always two or three at a time — those were my contracts. And so, it’s always a really conscious decision. I wrapped “WandaVision” on a Wednesday and flew to London on a Friday to continue playing this part [in “Doctor Strange 2”]. I could have used getting out of the mindset, though, because they were totally different utilizations of the character and people would have had more time to understand “WandaVision” had we not just wrapped. And so there’s just a lot of, “We covered this in ‘WandaVision…’” It’s bigger than me, there’s lots of threads that are continuing on after me that I’m not aware of, and so it’s always about, “What can I get from this journey with this character that maybe I haven’t tapped into yet with her?” That’s where I keep approaching things from, so that I feel like I have some sort of strap-hang — that I can know that there’s going to be growth of some kind, even though it all maybe looks the same to other people. There is that conscious decision to learn a new element of this woman, or even of myself as an actor — something that I want to explore that I can bring to it.

Your passion for acting is apparent and you both produce as well. What about directing?

Smollett: I would love to one day. I find myself currently being incredibly excited about producing and ushering new voices and excited voices. I don’t know that I would want to direct myself — that’s a whole other skill. I remember watching Denzel Washington, who directed me in “Great Debaters” but he was also in it, and at that point he had such a command of his instrument that he was able to do that. But it’s a lot. And I remember him telling me, before directing himself, he went and made himself watch all his films just so that he could stomach this idea of watching himself in the editing room. And so, I love the idea of storytelling; I’m obsessed with just telling stories, but I don’t know that I would self-direct.

Olsen: I find myself still loving producing so much because I love asking questions and poking holes and thinking about reorganizing of storylines, things that I feel maybe need more structure. I loved writing essays in school so much; it was like something that I found creative because it was about putting so many different sources into a braid that could maybe create this larger conversation or thought at the end. And so, that’s how I look at scripts. That’s really satisfying enough for me, to play that role. I think one day I’ll think about it more honestly, what it what it would mean to be a director. I fear that if I were to do it anytime soon, I wouldn’t have the tools that I would want. I do ask lots of lens-y questions because I’ve really only been working for 11 years and only recently have I tried to really understand the art of what lenses to choose and why and what it makes an audience feel based on what you’re choosing. I want to have a better, more holistic understanding of [that] before attempting [directing] because I do think it’s such an art and just because I understand the structuring of a story or how a set works, I want to be able to provide the the image in my head. I don’t know if I have that skill yet, but I am curious about feeding it and nurturing that.

Press: Elizabeth Olsen and Jurnee Smollett Compare Notes on Genre-Blending Acting and Advocating for Performers on Set was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

#Elizabeth Olsen #WandaVision #Avengers #Scarlet Witch #Wanda Maximoff #Sorry For Your Loss #Avengers Infinity War #Avengers Age of Ultron #Captain America Civil War #Ingrid Goes West #Godzilla #Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness #Marvel #MCU #Candy Montgomery #Love and Death #Avengers Endgame

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fallingfor-fics · 3 years

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Teachers Pet-chapter 3: black dress shoes

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chapter 2

It was definitely a lie, I don't think I could ever be ready to start a new life all alone, but I had Dumbledore so I guess I wasn't completely alone. But it didn't change from the fact I still felt alone. Part of me was still upset about my father. He didn't even look at me, and I know he blamed me partially for everything that's happened. But he was out of my life now and I had bigger things to worry about. Like walking into this school without dying. Dumbledore headed in and I followed closely behind my luggage levitating behind me. I took deep breaths and looked in awe all around me. "Now since it's late I won't be giving you a tour as of right now, I'll just get you situated in your temporary room until tomorrow." Dumbledore said softly, looking down at me gawking at the gorgeous building. I told myself to look away and just focus on my actions. I didn't want to grow to like this place. I missed Beauxbatons that would always be my home. I wasn't gonna let this school's extravagance trick me, Beauxbatons was gorgeous and elegant, but Hogwarts was a different kind of elegance. Somehow it felt more, comforting and warm.

I shook the thoughts away and smiled up at Dumbledore, playing it cool. "Sounds great!" I responded. "Wonderful follow me then." he said walking down the hall. "Tonight you will just be sleeping in my quarters. I hope you don't mind but don't worry I have a guest room attached so you will have your own room and privacy." he said cheerily. "Wow thank you Dumbledore that's very kind I would have been okay with just crashing on the couch haha." I said lightly laughing. "Oh merlin no, I would not have my goddaughter sleeping on my couch, it's very uncomfortable." he said with a joking tone. I smiled and followed him to his quarters. We approached a gargoyle that was perched in front of us. I kept my eye on it worried it may move or be alive or something. He whispered a phrase that I couldn't understand and it moved aside to reveal this very odd almost circular staircase that was moving it seemed. He walked up it with ease and looked back at me, visibly confused as to how I was supposed to walk on it without being thrown back down. "Don't overthink it my dear, just walk" he said kindly. I did as he said and just kept my eyes forward and walked up on it. Hmm how peculiar. "What did you whisper to make the gargoyle move?" I asked, curious. He just looked at me and smiled. I took that as, "it's a secret and I am not going to tell you hehe". I followed him into what I assumed was his office.

I stood in awe looking all around at the most extravagant headmaster office I had ever seen. "Holy crap" I said, amazed. "Yes it is quite nice" he said with a small smile. "Quite? More like I could live here." I joked looking back at him noticing he had walked across the room and behind his desk. "Come," he said and I followed walking around his desk and chair. "Now back here" he said, opening a door to reveal a small but comfortable living quarters, "is where I sleep and if you come over here" he walked past his bed and to a bookshelf. He removed a rather large book and it revealed a small doorknob. He opened it up and it revealed a very cute guest room which looked to have been done up just for me. "This is your room for tonight." he said cheerily. My luggage flew past me and landed softly on the bed. "Now since it's late I won't waste anymore time and let you get your rest" he smiled. "Thank you so much this is perfect. Thank you for...everything" I said with a genuine tone. I walked over and gave him a hug, it was more than just a thank you hug. I was so glad to see him and not be alone. Someone to watch over me and make sure I was ok. It felt nice to have a parental figure here with me in this new strange place. He let out a light chuckle and patted my back. "Now I will be right in the next room if you need me, that door right there is a bathroom if you need to shower or anything of that sort. He said kindly while walking to the door. "Ok great thank you, goodnight" I said walking over to my bed to put my shoulder bag down. "Oh and y/n" he said and I turned to face him again. "I'm here" he said softly and walked out shutting the door behind him. It was almost enough to make me cry. It was so nice to hear those words. They comforted me so much to know I would be able to do this on my own but have someone for guidance. I smiled to myself and opened my suitcase getting out my pajamas and toothbrush. I got changed and put my day clothes back into my suitcase, hanging my coat and bag on the bedpost and putting my shoes at the door. I went into the bathroom shutting the door behind me. As I turned the faucet on I looked into the mirror. Brushing my h/c from my face and putting a headband in. I washed my face with the warm water and dried it off with the soft hand towel that was hung next to the mirror. I wet my toothbrush and brushed my teeth. Rinsing my mouth and wiping off the excess toothpaste and left my toothbrush there to dry. I exited the bathroom and went and sat on the bed. I sat there and admired the room. There was a small window above the headboard that was too dirty to see out of. I used my sleeve to wipe a small circle and I looked out.

I couldn't see much since it was dark but I could make out a few trees here and there. Hmm. I layed down and got under the covers. I closed my eyes and layed there trying to fall asleep. I looked over at the clock on the wall and it read 10:45. I looked back at the ceiling and then turned on my side, closing my eyes once more trying to clear my thoughts and fall asleep. After what seemed like forever I had no luck. I mean I did sleep nine hours on the train so of course I wasn't going to be able to fall asleep. I looked back at the clock and it now read 11:20. I sat up reaching over into my bag and pulling out my wand. I whispered a quiet "Lumos" and my wand lit up lighting up the whole room. I sat and stared at it not knowing what else to do. I held it up and began making shadow puppets on the wall. After a rabbit I began to feel silly, but I excused the childlike behavior because I didn't know what else to do. All of the sudden I started to hear a door. But it wasn't mine and it sounded farther away than Dumbledores. Then I heard muffled voices sounding like they came from his office. I whispered a "Nox" and my wand went out. I slowly and quietly got up and walked over to my door, pressing my ear to it but not having any luck in hearing better. I contemplated it for a moment and turned away back to my bed, I shouldn't, that would be an invasion of privacy. One of the voices grew louder and I then heard Dumbledore say to quiet down. I looked at the door. Well we all know im gonna do it. I have no respect for my morals. I tiptoed to the door and quietly and slowly turned the doorknob. As quiet as I could , I opened the door and peeked into his quarters, not seeing him but seeing the light from his office casted from under his door. I tiptoed over to that door making sure to not hit anything and breathing through my mouth to be as quiet as possible. Last thing I would want is to be caught eavesdropping on my first night in the castle. I gingerly pressed my ear to the door and stopped breathing to try and listen. "I think she will excel wonderfully here! You don't doubt my beliefs do you?" I heard Dumbledore say, surely he wasn't referring to me. "Of course not Albus, I just don't know if it's the best idea for her to be my student!" I heard a strange deep velvety voice say. Who does this guy think he is? Why wouldn't he want me in his class? "And why is that?" I heard Dumbledore respond calmly. The man paused and cleared his throat. "You know why." he retorted. The fuck does that mean I thought. My heart picked up speed as I began to grow very concerned and confused. "I think you are overreacting, she will be just fine." Dumbledore assured the man. I stepped back and laid on the floor trying to look under it. I laid my head on the cold stone floor and peaked through the small crack. All I could see was two pairs of shoes. Ones that were obviously Dumbledore's that were blue and had some light floral pattern and another pair of just black leather dress shoes. They continued talking but I zoned out staring at the pair of shoes. Hmm I took a mental note and got up off the floor. However when I was pushing up off the floor the rug my feet were on moved slightly and caused a small table to move and hit the wall with a thump. My eyes grew wide as their conversation came to a halt. "I thought you said she was asleep" the deep voice snarled. I didn't take any chances and sprinted back into my room closing the bookshelf door behind me as quietly as possible and jumping to the bed pulling the covers up over me and facing away from the door. My heart was beating so fast I could hear it in my head and feel it in my chest. My breath was ragged trying to catch up to itself. I heard his bedroom door open and heard him walk in and around it. I could hear him pause for a moment outside my door and then exit his room closing his door behind him. I heard them exchange a few more muffled words and then heard what I was assuming the black shoed man leaving his office and Dumbledore returning to his bedroom. I closed my eyes trying to be still just in case he came to check on me. I continued to fake sleep until it eventually caused me to drift off and finally fall asleep.

#severusimagine #severus x reader #severus snape x reader #severusnape #snape x reader #snape imagine #professor snape #snape #hogwarts #slytherin

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beerecordings · 4 years

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hey!!! i'd love to see more with the favored puppet au, that's always been one of my favorite concepts. maybe at a point where chase feels apathy in the face of anti, his caretaker, being a bad person? or something from before, when anti decided chase was worrying him and he didn't want to play the games anymore? :'D ty ty

Favored Puppet AU (Chase): After stalking, haunting, and toying with Chase for years, Anti eventually realized it was no longer fun to play with him while his suffering was so high. Instead, Anti kidnapped Chase and keeps him away from the world as its companion. Chase has learned to be alright with that. The human world, after all, was never very kind to him.

Triggers for heavy discussions of Chase’s past suicide attempts and depression and Chase trying to cut himself again, though he doesn’t succeed. Also might be considered soft!Anti, though Chase is the only one it’s soft for.

Florence I decided to combine that first prompt (Chase feeling apathy when Anti’s being awful) with another prompt so you will see that later! for this one I decided to do that moment where Anti decided he didn’t want to play games anymore. thank you for sending them my dude!! also this is my first time writing for this au so the mythology is really experimental but I just tried to do something new with Anti :) it’s very inhuman and doesn’t really understand Chase, but it decides it wants him, so...

It sits on top of his refrigerator and watches him have his first meal of the day, a depression snack at nine at night compromised almost entirely of the last crumbs in an old bag of Cheetos. The skinny little human creature – though Anti’s seen him staring at his shirtless torso in the mirror enough times to know he’s only growing more dissatisfied with his softening stomach and arms – throws his head back and dumps the rest of the crisps into his mouth, getting orange dust all over his unkempt beard. Anti giggles at the sight of him. Clown boy with his Cheeto dust and the bags under his eyes. Little human thing. Too small and silly even to be able to die. Goofy, stupid human. Slouching, miserable child.

But if there is one thing Anti enjoys about the human, it is his fierce, hateful courage. At first, the laughter in the edges of his hearing sent chills up the boy’s spine and made him turn around with wild eyes, spitting and gnashing his blunt mortal teeth, but now, after months of being haunted, he does nothing except turn around and glare.

Anti is invisible on his refrigerator, but the human – what is his name? Charles, Casey, something – he still tries to find it. He has eyes made to burn, blue as flame, though, to be perfectly fair, fire can be as much a source of life as the bitter weapon Casey makes with his gaze now.

He used to be warm. Anti remembers. He would stutter when the girl came to see him and he carried those little chips with him, rubbing them in his pocket when he passed the liquor store, and his children were all he thought about. But he’s changed. Anti watched it happen. For whatever reason, the girl stopped bringing the children by at all, and at some point the pain of it must have overwhelmed the man, and Anti watched him embrace old habits with a ferocity only describable as self-harm. After his second suicide attempt – that was the only time Anti let Casey see it, standing over him and staring at the crimson of his blood in the bathtub while the man screamed for it to kill him already, shrieking in despair as Anti picked up his phone from the bathroom counter and dialed 911, giggling at the thought of just how powerful his despair would be when he woke up in the hospital – he removed his children from the background of that phone and replaced it with a stock image of the ocean provided to him by Apple’s recommendation.

The light slid out of his eyes at some point. Anti was there. It watched the whole thing.

It enjoyed the whole thing. Mostly.

“Fucking kill me, then, bitch,” hisses Casey, slinking through his own kitchen like he’s being hunted. He is. “Playing games with me, always, well, I’m tired of playing, you know that, I’m tired… fucking kill me then, not afraid of you, not afraid…”

This is also true. Anti’s pretty sure the only reason he moved back to America was to make sure none of his friends would be in the way of the creature who haunts him finally finishing the job. And to stop them from telling him “you need to get help, you’re talking to the voices in your head and seeing things, it’s not real, you need to see a specialist” in an endless carousel of concern and – as Casey always perceived it – condescension.

“Fucking kill me!” he screams, slamming his hand down on his counter. He shatters a pile of unwashed dishes on accident and blood comes pooling up hot and coppery in the lines of his palm, but Casey doesn’t even look down, doesn’t even flinch, just keeps staring straight forward with fire eyes as wild as a horse’s.

But Anti’s bored with him. It hops down from the fridge and wanders through the apartment, whistling. In the kitchen, it hears the man howling as the whistling returns to torment him, the monster’s singing following him for hours and hours every day, never letting him sleep.

Anti used to think it was really funny, that something as simple as a whistled lullaby could make the man shatter in half and sob like his heart was broken open in his hands.

But honestly?

It’s less fun these days.

“Music, music, music,” rants the human in the kitchen, slamming his palm down again and again, cutting open his palm again, again. There’s banging on the walls and muffled yelling. The neighbors are sick of his screaming. He’ll be evicted soon, Anti reckons. Humans used to travel in packs, making it harder to pick them off, but these days ones like Casey often find themselves alone, and no one is around to stand up for him. “I’ll make you stop, I’ll make you shut up, shut up, shut up….”

Anti lets the human sprint past it and retreat to his bedroom, crawling under the bed and taking his laptop with him. He puts on big earphones and presses them hard against his ears, and he rocks himself as his music plays, turned up to one hundred on his computer, mumbling to himself, laughing sometimes, if Anti listens closely enough.

Anti crouches down to look at him. It hums to itself and touches Casey’s face, and he shrivels in on himself and whimpers, but he does not fight or push it away. Not anymore.

He used to be so much more fun before he started to crumble instead of break.

And yet, Anti has not killed him.

It does not know why.

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

When bored – these days, it often is – Anti likes to wander through the other apartments that surround its own. Watching the human sleep can only be entertaining for so long, even if it does like to hear his sleepy, thick breathing and see his peaceful, dopey face, and it’s nice to just roam sometimes. Anyway, the people nearby can be interesting, though Anti doesn’t mess with them the way it does Casey. No one else has ever been that entertaining.

A young couple lives to their right, newly-married with a little rat of a dog they call Barkley. Anti’s human likes most dogs, but he grew tired a long time ago of the shrieking yips through the walls. Anti itself doesn’t mind it so much. One more thing to annoy the human on his slow road to madness.

“Who’s the best boy in the world?”

It passes by their door and hears them cooing and praising the yelping thing. “Are you a good boy, Barkley? Who’s my good little boy? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!”

Barkley has been sick for a few days and their fussing over him has been endless as they clean the nasty little animal up after every time it vomits, carefully feeding it vet-recommended dog food and plenty of healthy human snacks whenever Barkley shows an interest. How anyone could care to look after a creature so pathetic and useless is well beyond Anti, but it thinks it’s funny, really. Humans will bow down to pet the lowest of creatures.

I am not like that, it thinks to itself, drifting through the door, invisible. It is important for me to not be like that.

Anti had never had an interest in pets before this year, but, increasingly, it likes to come over and watch them look after Barkley. Constantly it reminds itself – I am not like that. It is important for me to not be like that.

But it doesn’t understand why this is important or why it should not be like that. Truthfully, it has never been skilled with its own emotions. It does as it pleases and what makes it happy makes it happy. If there is depth to that, it isn’t interested.

“Okay, Barkley baby, mommy and daddy are going to go for a walk and be right back in a few.”

“Aww, poor baby, we know. You wanna come on our walk and see all the other puppies along the way, but you can’t go while your belly’s all grumpy!”

“Yeah, little Barkley can’t come today, but mommy and daddy will be right back.”

“Mommy and daddy will be right back, we promise.”

They shower the dog in pets and belly rubs as they baby-talk their way towards the door, blowing it kisses as they head out and lock the door behind them.

“Do you think we should check on this guy here who’s so loud sometime?”

“What, that Chase guy? Are you kidding me? What a creep. He’s so fucking loud. We’re going to have to complain to the landlord again. Guy’s out of his mind.”

Ah, yes, Chase, that’s his name. Slipping into their apartment like a ghost, Anti laughs at the human fickleness and leans down to tweak the little dog’s tail, making it yelp in alarm and start running in circles around the apartment. It giggles and spends some time chasing it and leading it around with its chew toys and such. It likes the way it can make the dog do anything. It likes the cute little dog even if it is such a disgusting, purposeless, stupid little animal. It coos and picks the puppy up, tickling its skinny little ribs and rubbing between its ears.

“Stupid puppy,” it manages to say, in its painful, broken voice. Human language has always been difficult for it, but it prides itself on understanding it well. One day maybe it will speak it clearly too, though for now it knows it would sound like a struggling, glitching machine to a real human. “Stupid baby doggy.”

Faint laughter reaches its sharp ears and it quiets, setting the dog back down. For a moment, only silence, and it crouches in the living room with its black eyes boring into the universe, motionless.

Then it hears raucous laughter as the window in the back of the apartment is pried open and a pair of much, much more pathetic creatures than itself or even this little dog crash their way into the couple’s home. It straightens up, shaking its head, and heads back towards the back room, where a baby’s nursery is beginning to develop. Above the cradle, a pair of imps stop short, staring at Anti as they hover, startled, in mid-air.

Wearing its human’s form, it puts its hands on its hips and waits for them to speak.

They begin to laugh again, loud and boisterous, spit flying out of the one’s mouth while the second’s eyes bulge with hilarity.

“A fairy in California?” The imp rolls in circles in the air, shrieking with laughter. “Who would have thought?”

“Little far from home, Mr. Potatohead,” quips the second, floating up to the ceiling, sneering and sticking out its little purple tongue. Anti’s mouth curls distastefully. “Why don’t you go back to your hunts and your parades, your highness?”

“How’d it get here without getting stuck behind all that running water?”

“Careful, pure-blood, this spoon looks like it might be made out of iron!”

They dissolve into maniacal impling laughter, rocking through the air, shape-shifting in the limited ways they can to make themselves look uglier. If it were the sort of fairy who gave a fuck, Anti supposes it would feel disrespected, but it doesn’t much care. They’re little annoyances who have clearly mistaken it for a much less powerful creature than it really is. They break the monotony for a moment. It’ll kill them in a second. Anti supposes they just came here to make trouble. Imps love break into human homes and stealing their food or making their milk go rotten. They may well have been the ones who made Barkley sick, just to watch the humans take care of the dumb little thing for their entertainment. They’re common in this part of the city because the mountains are close, and imps are snuffling, stupid little creatures of the earth.

“Ew, what’s that?” squawks the first imp, floating closer to it. “Do you smell it?”

“Yuck. His majesty stinks like a human.”

“Just like a fairy to keep a pet.”

“Aw, do you have a widdle human to look after?”

“Maybe we should pay a visit to your stinky little human.”

“Yeah, maybe it needs some company.”

“Some friends.”

“Someone to play a couple fun games with.”

“And then we can find out what it is that made Tinkerbell here go all soft in the middle, like a rotten – ”

But they never get to find out exactly what rotted thing Anti resembles. It snatches the imp out of the air in one snapping motion like the bite of a snake and crushes its body between its fingers, its eyes turning black as the juices run down its wrist.

In its fear, the other imp does not even scream. Its eyes bulge in alarm and it scrambles for the window, but it never makes it. Barkley yelps in victory, chasing his own tail around as Anti’s teeth come down around the meaty little imp and tear it to pieces, silencing the both of the little monsters, leaving nothing behind.

It’ll be picking that out of its teeth for a week, it muses, wandering back out of the apartment and towards its own. But that’s what they get for talking about Chase like that.

It’s odd, though, how it makes it pause and think. That is something other spirits do sometimes, isn’t it? Take a human and keep it as a pet.

The couple with the dog are returning from their walk, holding slushies and each other’s hands.

“Barkley!” they coo, greeting their excited dog at the door. “Are you a good boy? Oh, why are you shaking, baby boy? What a silly little puppy you are. Who’s a cutie? Are you a good boy? You just want a big hug, huh, you just want to be looked after. Mwah, mwah.”

It’s kind of a cute dog, in the end.

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

It liked the way Chase looked up at it, that one day it allowed him to see it.

It liked the way his eyes changed. He was not afraid – Chase is a creature of courage and despair, and these, in Anti’s experience, are both flowers from the same root – but he was distressed. Anti would say that this was because the form he takes is such a disturbingly odd impression of a human that it scared the human, but, truthfully, he thinks he saw a sort of awe in Chase’s eyes that day as well.

He loves fiction. This is one thing it learned about Chase early on. He does not have a reputation for intelligence but he does love his fantasy escapism, or he did back when he still had the energy for things like interests and hobbies. He liked Gravity Falls and Doctor Who and anything with sci-fi or dragons and he would get stuck at bookstores every now and then just walking through the YA section and wishing he was still young enough to enjoy them as much as he used to. In the old days, human storytellers were vital parts of their social structure. Anti thinks Chase would have been a storyteller, in his own way, if this were a few hundred years ago. Maybe he would be happier then.

It does not know when it began wondering about Chase’s happiness. Do not ask it.

The point is that Anti liked the way Chase looked up at it, that one day it allowed him to see it, that day he tried to kill himself.

“No,” he shook his head as Anti took his phone and called for an ambulance. “No.”

But his eyes were looking at something beyond life and death, something he had only read about in books, and Anti did not understand it.

It thinks, now, that Chase was looking at something he had longed for when he was younger. But Anti does not know what. There are fairytales about prophetic heroes and novels about chosen ones and tv shows where fantastical creatures whisk people away on great adventures, but Anti is not a fantasy. Anti is a nightmare. This is something Chase has always known, and Anti has always known, and there should be no misunderstanding between them.

But it liked the way Chase looked at him, that one time it allowed him to see it. That’s all. That’s all it’s saying. It doesn’t mean anything. It is not like that. It’s important that it’s not like that.

Anti touches the human’s face. He has fallen asleep beneath his bed, and his breathing is clear and deep, rhythmic as the song of a bird.

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

Chase sleeps for fourteen hours and then gets up to make a Cup-o’-Noodles. Beef flavored. It’s the only thing left in the pantry except half a jar of strawberry jam and some milk he was too drunk to put in the fridge a couple days ago, spoiled completely by now. Even the cheap rum he’s been buying is out on the table beside the stove. He hasn’t bothered to get dressed and he cuts a pathetically small figure standing over the stove in nothing but some gym shorts and rolled-up Christmas socks because everything else needs to be washed.

Anti roams the apartment, humming distantly and checking up on things. It deletes an unread message on Chase’s phone from contact name “Marv” and waters the succulent Chase picked up on an impulse last week. It’s so funny to it how attached the human can get to things, and so quick too. He once found a bee on the windowsill, brought it sugar water, and looked after it for several hours before letting it outside. The human put on his loudest comedy show afterwards to try and keep himself cheerful, but he’d ended up crying about halfway through, and Anti couldn’t tell if it was related to the bee or not. He’s always crying. He didn’t always used to be crying. He used to be less deep in his despair and much more fun to play with.

Anti shakes the thoughts off and decides to prove that Chase is still fun to play games with. There’s nothing deep about their relationship, Chase just happens to be entertaining. That’s the only reason it followed him all the way from Ireland. It floats towards the kitchen, silent and invisible. It’ll give him a quick scare, not enough to put him off his dinner, just enough to remind him he should still be fighting. Anti shape-shifts cleanly into a small boy with black hair and deep onyx eyes and goes to stand behind Chase, silent and still, staring up at the child’s father as he stirs the noodles in silence.

“I know you’re behind me,” he says after a moment. “Looking like Hunter.”

Anti startles and shivers back into invisibility, drawing away. Chase turns blearily to see that it’s gone and he laughs, deep and hollow.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, stumbling a little as he tilts back his rum. Anti knows he’s already drunk from the calmness in his tired voice. “Used to your tricks by now. You been getting to know me, I know. I been getting to know you too.”

He snorts to himself and leans back against the stove, seeming to forget his noodles. He squints blearily around the room, rubbing at his eyes. He hasn’t put his contacts in since the last time he tried to kill himself. Wanted to make sure he cut the veins, but after he survived that night, it didn’t much matter if he could see or not.

“I think I can sort of tell when you’re close, most of the time,” he adds. Anti sits at the dining table across the room, frowning. “Like… I can feel you. Or something. See you, maybe. I think you make things… a different color. Does that make sense?”

He points sluggishly towards the dining table and then shrugs, letting his hand drop again.

“Doesn’t matter, I guess.”

His pot is boiling over. The water will burn his hands in a moment, resting as they are against the edge of the stove. Chase laughs to himself again, shaking his head, and throws back the rum for so long that he’s panting when he’s done with the drink.

“Funny,” he says. “Would have almost liked for you to be there. As Hunter, I mean. See my baby one more time. My baby. Hunter, my son…”

His eyes trail far away. Anti doesn’t think he’s looking at anything at all. There’s nothing left for him to look at.

Water cascades across the stove, boiling. Chase whimpers as it hits his hands, but he doesn’t pull away.

Something yanks him back.

He stumbles away from the stovetop. Drunk, he can’t keep his balance, and he goes crashing to the ground, falling on his back and dropping his bottle, which shatters into pieces of glass and a small flood of rum across the kitchen floor. Chase gasps, grabbing at his bruised elbow, staring around for a sight of the monster that has haunted him for so long.

The pot of noodles goes spinning off its stovetop onto the other side of the stove and stops boiling after a moment, quieting the kitchen. The knob on the oven flicks to ‘off’ and the red light disappears from the stovetop, leaving it dark and silent.

Chase closes his eyes.

Anti stares at him and it knows, in the moment, that the human was not lying.

He can sense it.

He can tell it’s there.

“Why,” croaks Chase. “Did you call 911 that night?”

Anti steps back from him. His movement shifts glass on the floor with a faint clinking noise.

“Was this what you wanted?” Chase whispers. “Just to see me live like this a little while longer? Just to make sure I couldn’t get away that easy? Was killing myself too good for you? Are you ever going to actually finish me off?”

He is crying. He is always crying.

This isn’t fun anymore, Anti realizes. It isn’t funny.

And honestly –

Honestly…

Honestly, it doesn’t know why it called 911.

“I think that’s what I’ve actually been waiting for,” laughs Chase, sobbing as tears run down his reddened cheeks. “Fuck. Not even staying alive waiting for it, that’s not what I mean, I mean… like I haven’t killed myself because I’ve been waiting for you to do it.”

He throws his head back and cries and laughs and hugs himself with his burned hands and scarred wrists, his whole body shuddering with the tears.

“But you won’t,” he sobs into the darkness, as Anti’s presence draws away from him and the sun fades. “You won’t. Will you? No one will give me any mercy. No one wants me to have any fucking peace. So tired… You won’t…”

Anti retreats to his room.

It doesn’t want to face him right now.

He doesn’t want to face him right now.

Chase cries in the kitchen for a long time, until his whole body feels tired and numb and drained. He doesn’t clean up the glass. He doesn’t clean up the rum. He doesn’t clean up the water. He would probably have slept right there on the wooden floor of his kitchen, but the doorbell rings.

Too drunk to put himself together, he staggers to the door and throws it open to the cold, red-eyed and stumbling like a zombie.

“Uh,” says the delivery kid, fixing her alarmed expression after a moment. “Here’s your food, sir.”

Chase is too confused even to question. Almost dazed by it, he takes the bag of take-out carefully from her hands, thanks her in a mumble, and shuts the door behind him.

KFC.

Did he order this?

No, he was making ramen before he made a mess of it. But it’s what he always gets. Chicken tenders and mashed potatoes and a couple extra biscuits for the next morning.

In his bedroom, Anti closes out of the delivery app and drops his phone onto the bed, deleting one more message from Marv before it drifts past Chase and goes wandering, thinking, roaming, lost.

It’s not like that… it’s important that it’s not. It’s not like that.

Zayn and Mary are walking Barkley. Anti watches the happy little dog go yipping and dancing in the space between them, happy and safe and recovering, cared for by his masters.

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

The apartment fills with soft light in the evenings. White and gold from the weary sun. When it hits the horizon, the gold pirouettes and falls apart into a dozen different watercolors across the long shoulders of the sky. Pouring patiently through the windows, like syrup from the bark of a great dark tree.

Anti sits beside Chase’s bed and watches him sleep, playing slowly with his hair.

It likes Chase’s hair. It always has. Soft and dark but sometimes golden in the sunlight, and ever-so-slightly curly, so you can wrap it around your finger if you’re gentle, and make it spring back again afterwards.

Anti wants to kill something. It doesn’t know what. A human, probably, but not Chase. Chase, Chase, Chase. It had forgotten how much it likes that name.

You like a lot of things about him, it lets itself realize. When did that happen? When the fuck did that happen? One day you’re making him having a repeated dream where he’s carefully cut into pieces and eaten alive by a sentient crocodile because he always got scared of the one in Peter Pan when he was a child and the next you’re thinking about how soft his hair is. It makes Anti laugh, for a moment, but it thinks it feels… sad. It doesn’t know why.

Chase wakes up and it drifts back into invisibility, leaving him to sit up and look around. Check his phone for the time and stare at the floor for a while. Today he is groggy, but not sad, which strikes Anti as odd. Most days he is groggy and sad. Sad groggy stupid human. Anti’s sad groggy stupid hurting human. It sighs and spins lazily in the air, watching Chase push himself up on his feet, his eyes dead and weary.

Someone slams on their door and Chase groans, rubbing at his forehead. He’s hungover again.

“Brody!” The slamming insists. Chase stutters out a breath, slightly frightened, and totters to the door, pulling it open.

It’s his landlord. Anti’s lips curl up in a snarl. A mean, stupid man, stupider than Chase, even, and he looks angry.

And he starts to shout at Chase, and Anti does not like it. It doesn’t interfere, but it doesn’t like it either, and it knows Chase will do nothing. He stands there shirtless in his Christmas socks and stares at his landlord like he can’t believe any of this is real – not because it’s rare for him to be in trouble, just because his life is an alley puddle full of cigarettes and bathing rats and he’s most likely dissociating – and just nods when he’s told to get his act together and pipe the fuck down before he gets kicked out.

“Yes,” says Chase. “Okay.”

The landlord leaves.

Chase shuts the door behind him and looks directly at Anti, invisible on the ceiling above him.

“Jokes on him,” he says dully. “He’ll have to be the one to clean my blood out of the bathtub.”

Anti blinks. Chase pauses, letting his head rest against the cool wall for a moment before he pushes himself back up and wanders back towards his bedroom.

“What you will do?” asks Anti.

Chase startles so hard he slams into the wall of the hallway, whirling around to look at him. Unnerved by his response, Anti scowls and backs away again.

“Sorry, did you just talk to me?” asks Chase. “It’s a dream, then? Or did you talk to me in real life? Or am I really losing it finally? I mean, worse than I have already.”

Anti grumbles to itself and gets up in the fan, making the blades spin slowly, sulking. Can’t even talk to the human without him freaking out.

“Must still be drunk,” mumbles Chase, retreating back to his room.

Anti gets up and follows him.

“What, are you worried?” snaps Chase, digging under the bed, and Anti grins at the heat he’s showing again. That’s more like it. “Haunt me for, what, eight months and now you’re worried? I know you’re there, asshole.”

Anti lets him hear it giggling. Chase rolls his eyes and then he gives a short laugh, shaking his head.

Anti feels pleased, it thinks. Chase turns to look at him. He can’t see him, but he knows it’s there. Anti likes that.

“You really are a monster,” says Chase softly, smiling at it.

And then Anti sees, in his hand, the little tin where he keeps his razor blades.

Anti’s mouth falls in a frown.

Chase looks up into the sunset. Orange and gold, tonight. Flowing over his hair and into his eyes, making them alight. Fire eyes. Fire Chase.

“I hated you for a long time,” says Chase. “But you’re either a monster or the part of my brain that really wants to hurt me, so I guess either way I shouldn’t blame you for being what you are.”

He stands up, straighter than he has in a long time, still fixated on that sunset.

“I… I’ll miss…”

Anti stares at him, waiting, but Chase never finishes his sentence. After a long moment, he turns and takes his phone off of his bed. A slow, shaky breath escapes him.

He always takes his calls between the hallway and the living room so he can pace. Anti knows. Anti knows everything about him. Anti knows things about him he doesn’t know about himself. Anti likes things about him he doesn’t like about himself.

The human steps into the hallway and opens his contacts, carefully picking a name he hasn’t picked in long months, and he closes his eyes, and he waits.

But no one answers. Chase lets out a soft, miserable laugh, gripping the phone in both hands.

“Ah, damn… ha. Sorry, Schneep, I was really hoping you’d pick up.”

He circles quietly in the hallway, running his hands through his hair, his eyes closed and that phone held up to his ear, trying to breathe even instead of weeping.

“Look, man, um. I know we fell apart. Honestly, I really needed you, and you were just too busy for me, and that stung, it did. Maybe it was selfish, but I just… I needed you, Schneep. And I felt like all you cared about was the research, and…”

He rubs his face, brushing away tears. Anti stands at the end of the hall, staring.

“Well, I didn’t call you to accuse you of anything. I just wanted you to know that, um, even though we both hurt each other… I always loved you, man. And I don’t got the courage to call Jacks or Marv, okay, but I love them too. I love them too. And I’m sorry. Cause I was a coward for running away from them, and… maybe you needed me even more than I needed you, and I couldn’t even see it. So I just want you to know: you were my best friend. And I’m really sorry I couldn’t pull you out of your head and that I couldn’t help, or didn’t try hard enough, or just that I wasn’t what you needed. And I…”

Anti sees Chase close his eyes and breathe.

“And I hope I’m not one more person you spend the rest of your life wishing you could have saved,” he whispers. “It’s not your fault, Henrik. I love you. Good night, buddy. Maybe someday – ”

The voicemail beeps. End of recording.

Chase lets out a hurting breath and sets his phone down. His eyes are fixed on the rising sunlit moon, past his window.

“Maybe someday I’ll see you again,” he says.

He goes into the bathroom and crawls into the tub.

And Anti – Anti is paralyzed in the hallway, staring at him, invisible.

But Chase can sense it. Chase can sense him. He looks back at him, his face – fuck, so familiar now, like Anti knows every line of it, every shadow – and says nothing.

Something in Anti cries out against it.

Don’t let him do this. Don’t let him do this.

But another part – oh, another part recognizes what has happened. It has grown attached to this human despite all odds, despite everything. And attachments are dangerous and stupid and useless, just like this little mortal curled up in his white bathtub, holding a razor, staring at it. This is Anti’s chance to let Chase break the attachment. This is its chance to stop this before it goes too far. Before it actually does decide that it likes Chase, that it wants him, that it should keep him, that he loves him in his own fucked-up way.

So it steps back.

It won’t stop Chase.

Let him go. Let him go. It’s better this way. He was just supposed to be entertainment. There was never supposed to be an attachment. So now Chase can die and Anti can leave and they can go their separate ways, and everything in Anti’s life will return to normal. It will go back to Ireland and find something new to do, someone new to torment. And everything will be okay.

It doesn’t stop Chase.

But Chase –

Chase –

“No,” he whispers to himself, gripping the blade. “Please.”

Chase can’t bring himself to do it.

“No!” he screams, lashing himself once, but it hurts and he hates it and he wants it to stop and it’s not like the other times he’s tried to kill himself, not at all. There’s no numbness. There’s no comfort.

He doesn’t want to die.

“Please!” he howls, gripping his own wrists. “Please!”

He’s begging himself. End it. Finish it. Stop it, let me go.

He’s begging the universe. No more. No more, please.

He’s begging Anti.

He’s begging Anti with everything he has.

He turns his eyes to it and he’s screaming, and there’s blood on his wrists, and the glowing moon is like the eye of a god staring down at them, and Anti is illuminated in its light, visible in the shape of a man, visible in a shape like Chase’s, and Chase is begging him –

“Don’t make me live like this any longer!”

Anti turns and flees.

Chase is howling like a shot dog, holding his own shoulders, unable to kill himself, because he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want Henrik to get that voicemail, he doesn’t want to never see the sun again, he doesn’t want to go, he isn’t ready, but he can’t live like this any longer, and he’s never felt more hopeless in his life, and he still doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to die.

Don’t make me live like this any longer.

Why can’t he end it?

He’s so drunk and so tired and he thought he wanted to die, he really thought he did. No, no, not… oh, he needs somebody, he needs something, he needs something to change. Henrik. He wants Henrik, wants Jackie, wants Marv. He’s staggering to his feet, trying to get up, trying to get back to his phone –

He slips in his Christmas socks and in his own blood, and he crashes down hard in his bathtub, and lies still.

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

“Oh, no, oh, fuck,” Anti hears him whimpering as he comes awake. “How much did I fucking have? Stupid, stupid…”

It stands in the hallway, pacing, its eyes set on the ground. It is determined now. It has decided.

“Oh, shit! Oh.” There’s a nervous laugh from Chase as he notices the shallow cut on his arm. “Oh, wow, I… I must have tried to… but I didn’t! I didn’t, wow…”

There’s an awe in his voice that hasn’t been there for a long time.

Is it… pride?

“I didn’t kill myself,” Anti hears him whispering. “I didn’t… didn’t kill myself. Or I just passed out before I could, but either way, pretty impressive for a fucking idiot like me.”

Anti retreats back to his room and begins to pack the human’s things up, taking only what’s immediately necessary. It doesn’t care about the personal effects, but there are some things they will need – some clothes, his hygiene products, shoes, medicine. He places the succulent gently on top and zips it into place as an added present.

It can hear Chase wandering around the house, apparently dazed by his own survival, or maybe just still drunk from the night before. Anti shuts his phone down remotely and doesn’t let it turn back on when Chase scrabbles at the power button, mumbling about his friends back in England. Anti doesn’t know where the sudden interest in them after months of deleting pictures and ignoring calls has come from, but it doesn’t care.

Here are the facts, in its mind:

Chase survived last night.

It has grown attached to him.

Because he did not kill himself, it can’t escape the fact that it’s grown… fond of the human.

The human survived one night, but Anti has watched him through a great deal of ups and downs, and it knows that Chase will be suicidal again soon enough, and then he might not survive.

Anti does not want to watch him die.

And so the conclusion it came to last night, watching over the boy as he lay in that tub, gently curling his hair between its fingers, was this –

Chase will be its, and Chase will not die.

It has a great satisfaction with this plan now, more than it thought possible. After months of boredom, finally, finally! Something that makes it excited again, something that makes it feel – well – happy!

Chase is still playing with his phone. Anti steps back into the hallway and sees him frowning down at it, pressing on the power button a few times in a row, looking unhappy.

“Did I call him, or…? Need to tell him I’m okay or he’ll – ahh!”

Chase screams aloud at the sight of Anti standing in the hallway with his backpack on. Anti frowns as he goes tumbling to the floor in his alarm, groaning from the whiplash in an already concussed head.

“You’re – you’re showing yourself to me?” gasps Chase, scrambling away. “What’s – are you going to kill me? What’s going on? Hey, stay away!”

But Anti is moving forward, a smile already on its face. This is perfect! This is perfect! It could howl! It could shout! The man is looking at it again, just like he did that night he tried to kill himself, the night that Anti saved his life, and there is the change in his eyes, the recognition, and Anti feels seen and known and in control all over again, and everything is good, everything is perfect.

“What are you doing?” demands Chase, his hands reaching out to protect himself. A fighter, yes, just like Anti always saw. Small and weak and mortal and foolish, yes, but also courageous, courageous, always something special about him. Anti always knew. It grabs Chase’s wrist and pulls him to his feet, humming to itself, singing the old lullaby it always used to haunt him with.

“No, stop, I hate that!” screams Chase, trying to cover his ears, trying to yank away from him. “Stop it, let me go!”

He’s such a pretty little human, even if he is built so scrawny. Anti likes his dark hair and his fire eyes and his soft stomach and even his stupid tattoos, just because they’re his and he’s so goofy, silly human creature. It’s all familiar to him now. The boredom that it thought it was feeling all this time it now sees was a secret fear of the truth that it was becoming attached to him. But last night woke it up to the realization that it did not want to see the boy die and it’s so pleased that he decided to live. In a way, the human was deciding to stay with it! Everything is good. It wrangles Chase’s other wrist and begins to drag him towards the door, unbothered by the sound of his shouting, which is little more than white noise to Anti after so long spent following Chase.

“No, no! Help me, someone help!” he cries.

Someone pounds on the walls of the apartment. A muffled “can you shut the fuck up for once in your life?” makes its way through the plaster. Chase sobs, tearing at Anti’s hands, his eyes wild and desperate. Anti keeps humming.

It will set him up somewhere just as good as this stupid little apartment. Better even. Bigger and less worn. And it will teach Chase to take better care of it too, so he doesn’t make such a mess like he always does. It will give him things he hasn’t even realized he wants yet. It will give him his little succulent back and he will take care of it. Humans need things to take care of or they get very sad and they die sometimes – that’s the thing about humans, they can get so sad they can die, and it’s no longer fun for Anti to watch, so it will get Chase things to take care of instead. What do humans like to take care of? Cows? Hamsters? Potatoes? Whatever he wants.

It takes Chase’s keys and drags him out to his car, opening the door and letting all of Chase’s trash litter onto the street. Its foot crunches on garbage as it pushes its human inside, chirping politely at him when he struggles and gently blocking him from escaping, keeping him pressed inside the car. When Chase tries to lunge forward past it, Anti shoves him against the glass and makes him yelp, clutching at its aching head. Whoops! It pulls back quickly and pats his cheek, checking the bruise and patting Chase’s head. It will take some time to learn the boundaries for touching the human, but it will learn. It keeps him carefully inside until the human has gone breathless and shaky and realizes he can’t get out right now. Satisfied, Anti gets into the car beside him and starts the engine.

Oh, no, wait. One more thing it wants to do.

Anti sets Chase’s apartment on fire, whistling its song to itself as it disables the alarms and leaves a few rags beginning to spread the fire from the oven to the counters. Fuck that landlord who yelled at him. Now the other humans will probably think he died in the fire or something and not come looking for him. Not that they could find him if they tried. Anti leaves the apartment smoking and gets back into the car, chirping and purring to itself, too excited to care that it’s acting like a youngling on its first Samhain.

The human stares at the road as they begin to move, shell-shocked and trembling. Eventually his eyes flicker over to Anti, and it can see that he isn’t sure if he should be angry or terrified or just numb to all of this, numb to everything.

Numb is what he settles on. Numb and a little weepy, anyway. Anti coos and reaches out to touch the human’s neck, rubbing warmly at his soft skin.

Chase curls in on himself, shirtless and shivering in the seat of his own car, kidnapped and alone, and he begins to cry very softly.

There’s blood on his arm. He’s tired. He’s hungover. He’s still struggling with the desire to die despite surviving the night before. He thinks he left Henrik a weird voicemail. The monster that’s been haunting him for years has just appeared in the flesh and thrown him out of his apartment. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He just wants everything to stop.

He just wants this to stop.

The monster repeats its cooing noise at his side, still petting at his neck and throat. Chase shudders and cries, rocking himself gently in the seat, wishing for his headphones. Anti turns on both the heat and the radio. A top-twenties station comes on and plays music familiar to Chase’s ears, and they drive, and they drive, and he begins to go quiet and still, sniffling to himself, hugging his shoulders. Feeling the monster petting him like an animal.

“Okay,” whispers a warbled voice when Chase has finally begun to calm down, and he looks up in shock to see the monster speaking, or trying to. He’d never known it to speak at all – only to watch him, and laugh, and whistle or hum, playing tricks on him or mimicking him in the corner of his vision. They’d never spoken.

“Okay,” it repeats, touching his hair. “Okay.”

Chase swallows and says nothing.

Anti pulls over after a couple hours of driving and hands Chase the backpack, helping him pull out the clothes and put shoes and a shirt on. It leads him inside a gas station and lets him use his bathroom and wash his face, staying beside him the whole time. Chase doesn’t try to protest or call for help. He does not know why.

Anti leads him carefully through the aisles of the gas station, a big truck stop station with rows and rows of snacks and toys and clothes and knick-knacks like phone charges for cars and California-themed snow-globes. It seems interested in everything, but in an amused way, like it’s laughing at everything, and Chase is supposed to be laughing with it.

He doesn’t know what to do. Anti’s arm is around his shoulder.

The monster buys something with Chase’s credit card while Chase shakes beneath his arm and tries to figure out what’s happening, though his brain seems to be shutting down from being so overwhelmed and he really just wants a drink. Anti pulls him back towards the car and this time, he clambers in without protest, sitting down in the passenger seat and buckling in.

Anti sits down beside him and offers him the bag from the gas station. Chase blinks and looks over, taking the bag numbly from its hands.

There are nuts for protein and three bottles of water. Chips and a breakfast sandwich and jerky and chocolate and a small, stuffed lion with the name “Lionel” in its ear.

Anti starts the car again. They drive.

“What are you?” asks Chase in a whisper.

The monster glances over at him and touches his face, stroking a finger down his cheek, down his beard, and, in that struggling, glitching, inhuman voice, it tells him:

“Anti. And you are mine. No more scares. No more slow dying. I look after you. Human. Chase. Mine.”

The monster who’s been haunting him for months wants to keep him as a pet.

The desert is rolling past Chase’s window. Lionel sits patiently on his lap. The radio plays something inane and catchy. Anti is touching his hand.

“Mine,” it says again. “Okay, Chase. It’s okay.”

Chase closes his eyes, and, leaning back against the headrest of the car, he lets himself drift into sleep.

#chase brody #antisepticeye #cutting tw #suicide tw #extreme distress tw #bee writes #2020 prompts #favored puppet #florenceisfalling

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emotional-blender · 3 years

Text

eight. some things never change. ashton irwin x reader.

a/n: i have no idea where this came from or what the backstory is, or at least not in details. but here i am, and this just poured out in a literal half hour period. cheers. again, not very holoday like, but i feel like maybe there's be a continuation later in the month.

---

you freeze when you see him in the grocery store. there is a moment that seems to last hours where you stand, hands gripping the handle of the cart and staring, taking in the way his face looks distinctly... older. the world stops and then all at once, it whooshes back into full speed around you - faster even. for as long as you had stared gaping at him, those eyes you'd once been so familiar with connect with yours.

it's like an invisible puppet master pulls a string and the corners of his lips twitch up into a smile, a feeling of exciting warmth washing over him as if your end hadn't been explosive; as if you hadn't ruined each other. the same puppet master, wherever it is, whoever it is, whatever it is, pulls the string agian and before he can even think about it; before he can exercise any amount of control over himself, he's weaving through the aisle of crowded holiday shoppers. you hear his familiar accent apologize to another woman and her children as he squishes past, not even a little delicate as he seems to fall over his feet to get to you. some things never change, not even when everything else has.

if there is some great puppet master out there controlling everything he tugs your strings a little less urgently' lazily almost. the way your lips pull into a smile is less twitchy, more fluid as he appars in front of you; the familiar scent that surrounds him assuring you that he is, indeed, right there.

"ash," the shortened version of his name falls from your lips in a breath, the way it has so many times before in so many different situations that aren't this.

there is no weird dance between you as two pairs of arms are lifted; the puppetmaster working elegantly and efficiently. you envelop each other in a hug and hold on a beat too long before laughter spills from lips.

"it's good to see you," he mumbles somewhere above your shoudler where his head just fits. you almost let yourself get lost in the way he feels and then you feel the thud of a small hand hitting your arm, tiny fingers curling around the material of your sweatshirt and giving a steady tug. this is the only pupper master that counts.

you pull away from him and turn your head to the two year old sitting in the front of the buggy. you're met with a pair of big eyes that match your own, a crooked smile and tiny teeth that always remind you of chiclets as you help her brush them.

"give mommy a secong, baby girl," you lean to her level, smoothing her hair and streatching your body to reach into the bag you have in your buggy, pulling out a doll and handing it to her.

"tank ma," she giggles and you tear your attention back to the man in front of you, heart beating fast, breath quickening as he stares in wonder at your tiny counterpart. the only counterpart that matters. you turn away long enough to give her a kiss on top o her head because the action calms you down, before you bring your eyes back to his.

"it's really good to see you, too," you finally reply, finding the courage to bring your eyes back to his. his puppet master pulls his strings again as if he can't make a decision, ashton's mouth opening and closing and opening again, no words leaving him,

"she's not..." you trail off, answering his silent question before he can get it out, hoping to quell the sudden nervous energy spilling over him. your heartbeat slows as he let's out a breath. you're not sure why it quickened in the first place, why it felt like you might throw up for a moment.

"just..." you pause, biting your lip, trying to figure out a way to explain without making yourself sound... awful. "had too much fun in the aftermath of... that fight."

really, fight is a nice word fot it. it had been an end. a full stop. a break up. an i fucking hate you and i never want to see you again.

"she's beautiful," his words are quiet as he looks at you, and you nod your head, eyes looking back at her before you look back at him with a smile.

"yeah, she's, like," you pause, trying to put it into words. there are none; none big enough to describe what it feels like. "the best part of me," you settle on simple words.

his eyes are soft when you meet them again, understanding in a way only his eyes can look. for a second you feel calm and then...you fight back a bit of laughter. as it dawns on you. it hadn't really been your own heart you felt quickening; your own mouth going dry; your own fear that you felt moments ago. it had been his.

some things never change, even when everything else has.

"what's so funny?" he asks, voice peppered with laughter because yours had always been uncontrollably infectious to him. you shake your head a little in response.

"nothing, it's just really good to see you. you look well," you lean on your cart a little, hand instinctively moving to catch your daughters hand as she reaches up to tug at your sweater again.

"tooties na, tooties," she babbles a little and you loo at her. this time when you shake your head it's in slight exasperation.

'no, you need to nap when you get home. if you have cookies you're gonna be a little manace," you speak, taking a stand with your words while your hands betray you as they're bing pulled by your own puppet master; the only one that counts.

"i know someone else who always got what she wanted," his words are soft and you look over with a smirk, a playgul roll of your eyes.

"yeah, i never should have taught her any tricks," you go along with his words as your daughter takes a single cooke out of your hand. you shove the baggie of cookies back in it's place and let your body turn toward his again.

"i have to get this shopping done, but," you pause, brows furrowing, wondering if you next words are a good idea. "um. my number is still the same," you offer. "i mean, you don't have to and i don't have a lot of free time unless it's hanging in the apartment but it'd be nice to catch up,"

he beams at you and you can't help but beam back.

"yeah, that would be sick," he agrees and silently rushes through a list of friends you'd had in common, wondering who he could ask for your number because it's long gone from his contacts. there'd been a time he never wanted to see it again but there's something about seeing your face, older and a little tired, but grown, that makes him feel like it's going to be okay.

you nod, letting the cart go so you can get one more quick hug in, giving him a squeeze.

"okay, just text. or call. whatrever. we're flexible," you gtin sd ypu pull back, turning toward the tiny human in your cart.

"come on, mama. you're out of cereal. again," you disappear down the hallway and he wateches you, shaking his head as he heads down the other way.

you run into him twice more as you go up and down the aisles, silly laughter leaving you every time.

"swear i'm not stalking yoou guys," he laughs as he picks out some prodce and you nod.

"uh huh," the small noise leaves you and you go on your way.

it's banter that's too easy to fall back into. it should have been awkward. it wasn't supposed to be magnetic. your puppet master and his weren't supposed fo conspire. but some things never change, even when everything else has.

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin imagine #5sis #5sos imagine #5sos blurb #my writing #shans advent 2020

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buckybarnesbingo · 3 years

Photo

What the Pic?

Participants: @ariasfandom, @rebelmeg, @wolfnprey, @ladydarkphoenix-blog, @bookdragon13, @liquidlightz, @jeminamoonnight, @caiti-creative-corner, @ribbonsflyingoutthewindow, @ibelieveinturtles

@ariasfandom - Bucky started watching Oobi and wanted to make an OC of it

@rebelmeg - all sam wanted to do was sleep in. that was it, that was all he wanted out of a saturday. which, of course, was the first thing his annoying houseguest decided to ruin, with a fist in his face at the crack of dawn. a fist wearing googly eyes. "bucky, what the hell?"

@wolfnprey - This is the default picture Clint sends out when he's judging. Bucky retaliates by posting his own in the vents and hides Clint's arrows.

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - Bucky gets caught watching kids(Sam's nephews, Clint's kids, insert kids here} unaware but has no idea how to entertain them so somehow ends up telling stories with his hands playing characters that are surprisingly effective

@bookdragon13 - Bucky gets drunk on Asgardian mead and thinks it’d be hilarious to put googly eyes on his metal hand and make it talk for him the rest of the night

@liquidlightz - Being an Eldritch deity apparently wasn't as awe inspiring as he'd always assumed himself to be, given that his host was entirely un-phased and thought it was funny to make puppet hands out of him and make up silly stories. The fact that he found this insult highly entertaining was even worse for his ego.

Keep reading for more!

@bookdragon13 - Bucky buys that for Clint after staying with him for a couple days. Clint absolutely loves it Of course

@rebelmeg - "likl. likl?! who approved that? how did that make it to store shelves! this is a disgrace!" "bucky, you really need to calm down." "i'll calm down when that travesty is removed from my sight!" going shopping with bucky is never boring.

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - Bought as a gift for himself because Bucky found the misspelling hilarious and it would bug the most important of his guests by making them guess if he didn't notice that little detail or what was happening in his head. Watching them try to deal with it gives Bucky much joy

@wolfnprey - The group stares, unimpressed, as people in the gallery move around them. Nat and Tony insist that the artist is just fucking with people, while Sam and Clint argue over how deep the meaning is. Bucky takes one look at Steve and knows his friend is dying a bit inside at how low art has stooped in the modern age. Bucky's nice enough not to comment that it's made out of a damn shower rug.

@ariasfandom - "Bucky, we live together. I know for a fact you didn't "wake up like this"

@liquidlightz - In the morning, his boyfriend told him how beautiful he looked, and how amazing his hair was, despite having mussed it all up during their passionate evening before. Apparently Bucky didn't suffer from bed hair but from magically self-smoothing hair. Ok, so maybe he used his magiks a little to keep it looking so good, what was the harm in that. So when Bucky saw this in a store he just had to get it and put it by the foot of his bed.

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - Bucky never thought he'd be turned into a dog. He also never thought he'd be staying with Clint and his dog or that the kids in the building would try to disguise him like this

@rebelmeg - bucky wasn't sure to think when he opened his door one morning to find a dog on the step wearing graucho glasses. he also wasn't sure if he should trust the note tied to the dog's collar that said, "pet me, i'm yours." but either way, the spaniel was pretty cute, and it turned out to be a snuggler. worst things could happen.

@ribbonsflyingoutthewindow - If you're going to name your dog Professor Diggory and you're going to ask Bucky to dogsit him, you should be prepared for the fact that Bucky’s going to accidentally make him an internet celebrity. Groucho glasses and the ability to pose very still for a picture while Bucky holds a pretzel between his lips is the easiest way to have a booming Instagram account in under a week. Bucky and Professor Diggory are practically professionals now. Don't be jealous.

@rebelmeg - it has happened every time. every single time he goes to the mcdonald's closest to his house, they manage to mess up his order somehow. actually, he's starting to suspect it's on purpose. there had definitely been a smirk on the guy's face when he handed bucky his order through the window. that might explain why his request for a cheeseburger with just ketchup had nothing but ketchup between the buns. hmm. this might mean war.

@ibelieveinturtles - Sick of working long hours at minimum wage, dealing with shitty customers amd an even shittier manager, Bucky decides its time to try that malicious compliance thing.

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - What's happened to customer service?!?! Back in his day if you made a simple request for a burger with only ketchup the kitchen was smart enough to know what you meant. Were they messing with him? Can they not figure out what a simple order meant? Bucky sighed and shook his head. He'd had worse dinners

@ribbonsflyingoutthewindow - So Steve's got a fuckton of allergies and quite frankly, Bucky doesn't even know what they all are, so telling the person at the drive thru that Steve wanted "a McDouble with just ketchup" was a precautionary action. He thought because he knew Steve was allergic to onions and dairy and mustard that it was safer to ask for only ketchup (probably Steve's only known safe-listed condiment) and potentially not be the one to accidentally murder a man he cared deeply about. But seeing Steve later open the hamburger bun to reveal a bun with a single squirt of ketchup inside made Bucky literally faceplant into his car horn. That was not what he fucking meant.

@rebelmeg - swaying gently in the tropical breeze that smelled like ocean and flowers, bucky smiled to himself. he was staring up at the clouds and palm trees overhead, his hammock creaking just slightly. off to his right, his favorite person in the world was sprawled on a towel on the sand, soaking in the sun and drinking some kind of fancy umbrella drink with a silly straw. best vacation ever.

@ladydarkphoenix-blog - Steve made jumping out of planes seem so easy. He never needed a parachute, never seemed to have the aches and pains after. With a sigh, Bucky stared up at the sky. At least he had a good view.

@ribbonsflyingoutthewindow - Pic Summary:When Bucky, Sam, and Natasha agreed to share an AirBnB for their Hollywood vacation, they'd only planned to see some famous sights and maybe try to pose with someone as famous as the monkey from the Pirates of the Caribbean films. Then they'd discovered that arguably the two hottest actors in the entire film industry, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, were sharing the house next door! Overnight it became a bet and then a high stakes fight to the (okay, not actual) death to see which of them could meet one of the two actors first. Bucky hadn't exactly been spying while he was standing hidden behind an open gate on their temporary neighbor's property, but he must have been well hidden anyway because the moment he went to run and hide, a sleek convertible pulled out of the drive and directly into a fleeing Bucky. He kind of hates that his first thought upon opening his eyes and looking up to see only trees and a cloudy blue sky above him was that at least he'd probably won the bet.

#buckybarnesbingo2021 #bbb2021 #bbb discord party #what the pic?#party game #image prompts

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fullsunalicia · 4 years

Note

i really loved the jaemin prince au 💗💗 if you have time, could you possibly write a princess diaries au with jeno?? thank you for sharing your work with us ! have a great day 🤗

prince charming — LJN

in a matter of mere days, your whole life is flipped upside down. the only constant in your life are your best friends, yeeun and jeno. but while you’re being charmed with a crown and the family connection you’ve been craving for a long time, jeno is desperately trying to figure out how to tell you that you’ve charmed him.

of course i can, my love! thank you for your request and your kind words 🤍 have a great day and stay hydrated! eat if you haven’t yet. and as promised, here the princess diaries au~

For as long as you can remember, it has always just been you, your mom, and Chairman Meow. It’s a silly name for a cat, but it’s what you’ve decided on when you first got him at ten years old, and your mother found it too funny to resist. Now this poor cat is stuck with that name forever.

The life your mother built for you is far away from the family you have still left. When you were born, your father had already succumbed to an illness, leaving nothing behind but nineteen birthday letters, some presents, and the gaping hole he had ripped into every future family picture. At your first father-daughter dance, your best friends’ father had danced with you because Yeeun and Jeno couldn’t bare leaving you alone at home to cry about the fact that you had a missing parent. Everytime father’s day comes around, they pile up in your room with you and the day is spent watching rom-coms. Every year on the same day, your mom lights up a candle to honor the father who had abandoned you before birth.

Your mother told you he had his reasons. That they loved each other, but it just wasn’t meant to be. You had believed her and promised to honor the memory of a father that wanted you, but ultimately couldn’t have you. Because his own family didn’t accept it.

The letters are the only thing you have of him. You were told that when he realized he was nearing death, he decided to write them as birthday presents, one for every year. Some are longer than others. Some cheesier. Some seem like diary entries, where he regrets not being able to see you for the first and last time before he goes, since he’s sure your mother and him made the perfect daughter. The only reason you don’t resent the father that left the mother to raise their child alone is because you can feel the love in these letters, his true feelings, the somber sorrow of someone who’s being played like a puppet. His letters arive every year alongside the presents your grandmother sends you, but hers are left untouched while you cling to these letters as if they are your lifeline.

It’s almost like he’s here for you. Gone, but still felt. His love is with you when your mother kisses your forehead before school and you can see it in her smile. Your parents loved each other a lot - you wish to have a romance like theirs. You wonder why your grandmother thought it was a good idea to tear them apart.

The answer comes weeks before your last and nineteenth letter can arrive.

❀ ❀ ❀

“Will you wake up already? Damn! You’re worse than Jeno!”

“First of all,” you drawl out, sleep still heavy on your tongue. Your mind barely registers that you’re awake, and you blink several times to regain your sight after your comatose state. “I don’ t take nearly as long as Jeno in the morning to get ready. That’s why I’m able to sleep longer. And who the hell let you in?”

“Your mother,” your best friend of ten years deadpans. “Duh.” Yeeun clicks her tongue and reaches out for your body beneath the warm blankets. She doesn’t even care about the fact that you scream when you’re forcefully removed from your own paradise.

“Yeeun! I’m barely awake!”

“You want me to get a bucket of water, then?”

Yeeun is the oldest of your little group. After her comes Jeno, her younger brother, and lastly you. They baby you all the time, even though they’re barely older than you are. The first time you guys met was in first grade, where the siblings had bickered over what snack they should buy because they didn’t take enough money with them to buy one for each sibling. Without hesitation, you had approached them and lent them yours, and since then, Yeeun and Jeno basically adopted you. They’ve both already moved out and share an apartment near the university you three attend, and you know there’s a room for you waiting there.

Something just keeps you home. You can’t bring yourself to part from your mother and leave her, because then, she’ll be really alone. After all, your father’s side of your family doesn’t really like her. And her own parents live far away.

“Please don’t tell me you stayed up watching k-dramas again.” Yeeun groans and pinches your nose, the same annoying habit she tended to do to Jeno when he got on her nerves. No one else is more like a sister to you than she is, and you’re very grateful for her. It’s a different story for her brother, though.

Lee Jeno is as beautiful as his older sister, but he was the one who first drew you in with it. Your very first childhood crush in fourth grade. He even stole a first kiss from you when his lips had first touched a bottle of soju, and even though you’ve always dreamt of a fairy tale first kiss, you somehow were still thankful it was him. The boy with the crescent moon eye smile. The lingering taste of sweet alcohol and chewing gum. Careful hands who cradled your face as if you were the most expensive thing in the entire world, despite his intoxicating state.

He doesn’t remember that, though. And he doesn’t need to. You’ve buried your embarrassing crush for the younger sibling a very long time ago, and it’s never going to be dug out. Not if you can hinder it.

“I’m so tired, Yeeun,” you hiss at her and slap away the hands who are trying to pinch you awake. She laughs and wraps her arms around your waist. “Did you really have to wake me up so early?”

“Class starts in, like, twenty minutes. The longer we take here, the more Jeno is going to panic.”

“I hate you both. You’re a plague. I should’ve just let you brawl for that stupid tteokbokki cup.”

Yeeun forms her lips to a pout, lips puckered as if she was going to give you a kiss. “Aw, man. What am I supposed to do with engagement ring now? I spent so much money on it...”

Carefully, as to not hurt her, you push your best friend off your sleep-ridden body. Standing up has never taken so long, and you groan as your back cracks when you stretch it. “Don’t fool yourself,” you mumble. “The only thing you’d get me would be a ring pop.”

“Touché.”

It takes you a little longer to get ready, but Yeeun doesn’t mind as she scrolls away on her phone, liking a meme here and there. Jeno honks in impatience from outside the house and Yeeun grins, waving him off on instinct, even though he can’t actually see her. When you finally step out of your room, your mom already’s put on a cup of coffee for you on the table. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she says, grinning, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. You furrow your brows. “Finally awake?”

“After I basically assaulted her, yeah.” Yeeun snatches up the cup meant for you and nips at the dark mixture. Outside, Jeno honks again. “Though we better get going before your neighbours file a complaint. That kid doesn’t have any manners, I swear. And to think that we’re related!”

“You’re only two years older, Yeeun,” you shoot back, yawn tumbling from your lips. She’s right, though, you don’t want to keep him waiting any longer. The neighbor next door is rather weird, and you swear you’ve caught him several times sitting down infront of his window to watch the people pass by. He claims it’s inspiration for his books. You don’t bother with finding out if that’s actually considered stalking. Your mother turns her head so you can kiss her cheek, fingers twirling the cup she’s holding. She’s nervous. For what? “I’ll get going, mom, see you later.”

“Don’t forget to come straight back home after your lecture, (y/n).” She finally looks up to meet your eyes, showing you her evident worry. Your mom had pulled you aside the evening before, saying that you had important matters to discuss at lunch because someone was coming for a visit. She didn’t tell you who, though. “Text me if you need anything.”

With that, Yeeun tugs you out the front door, the familiar click of the lock accompanying your descent down the stairs to the street. Jeno looks especially annoyed, but he still leans over from the driver’s seat to open the door for you. “I’m going to kill you both,” he threatens the second you’re in earshot, hissing at his sister like a cat as she flicks his forehead and slides into the backseat. Despite being upset that you’re late, he lets you pull him into a tight hug, and you basically disappear in his embrace. Since he’s started going to the fitness center with his friends, he’s been building up muscles like crazy. Yeeun bet you ten dollars he’s on steroids.

He’s always been this athletic, though. Now, it shines through, and it makes your knees kinda weak of how strong Jeno is becoming.

“Is that coffee?”, he asks, fingers already reaching for the cup that was stolen out of your kitchen. Yeeun slaps his fingers, pretty features pulled into a grimace. “Not for you!” she answers. “Hands on the wheel.”

“So you let me wait for an hour, but I don’t even get coffee? Got it. Should’ve just left you on the curb this morning.”

“And who would’ve woken up (y/n), huh? It takes you years to wake the girl up!”

“Because she looks so peaceful in her sleep! Unlike you, I actually care about how much sleep (y/n)’s getting!”

“I hope this car crashes,” you mumble. With that, you swipe your coffee out of Yeeun’s hands, force Jeno back into the driver’s seat and lean back to finally sip at the coffeinated drink. It’ll be a miracle to survive this car ride.

❀ ❀ ❀

You like sociology. It’s the only course you share with Jeno, and despite claiming it’s his favorite class, he keeps napping in it. Because the professor likes him and his essays are seemingly “amazing”, Jeno ends up getting out of trouble scot-free, while you have to pass your notes to said troublemaker at the end of every lecture.

Maybe you should have given him some coffee after all. His head is resting on your shoulder, shamelessly using it as a pillow, his fingers are intertwined even in his sleep. As if he’s praying. Maybe he’s praying for this lecture to end quickly. The dark circles under his eyes worry you, and you wonder if he’s even getting enough sleep.

When Jeno and you first met each other, his features had still been soft, a true baby-face. He had winced every time you pinched his cheeks and often complained when you and Yeeun determined that he could be a prettier girl than you guys were. A decade later, Jeno is still breathtakingly beautiful, but where earlier had been fat to pinch was now sharp cheekbones, and a jawline that could cut diamonds. What had been pretty turned into attractive.

He looks like a prince. It’s no wonder his family calls him that jokingly. He owns the title.

“Stop staring at me, creep,” Jeno murmurs, voice drowsy. He still reaches out for you, though. Strong arms envelop your body and press you against a firm side, and you don’t even put up a fight when he uses you as his personal body pillow. His strong perfume wafts over your senses, and it’s hard to resist the urge to cuddle against him. You claim you’ve gotten over him, but it’s so easy to fall back into old habits when they go by the name Lee Jeno.

“Start paying attention to the lesson, then.” He doesn’t even budge when you try to push him away. Sighing, you resort to taking notes instead. You can feel him grin against your shoulder.

Asshole. He knows he’s stronger.

“It’s not like the lesson’s interesting. Can’t you just stop nagging me?”

“Can you stop bothering me while I pay attention?”

“No,” he shoots back immediately, arms locking tighter around your smaller frame. Jeno ignores the squeak you let out at that (as if you were a dog chewing toy...) and instead presses his face against your throat, lips dangerously close to your skin. Damn those siblings and their irresistible charm. “This is the price you pay for my friendship. If you weren’t ready to pay it, you should’ve thought about that ten years ago. No use fighting it now. Sorry.”

Friendship. The word stings and you wish it would hit you in the face once and for all, so that you could stop looking at Jeno in that light. He hums when you mess up his hair, recently dyed with the help of his sister. Both siblings had already bleached it once, but this color was darker, more evident. Soft as always. He hums in content at your touch, the sound elicting goosebumps on your skin.

“What’s gotten into you?” The accusation in your voice is only spoken in a joking manner, but it still makes Jeno raise his head and loosen his hold around your waist. This time, you’re the one tugging him back. (You hope your professor isn’t looking. The soft spot he has for Jeno isn’t reserved for you.) “You’re never this affectionate.”

“Is that a crime?” He furrows his eyes and glares at you. He looks a little like his cat when he does this, when she’s scolded for knocking a glass of the coffee table. You pinch his cheek. He hits your fingers.

“No. I’m only curious.”

“I’m just in the mood.” Jeno turns you around so you’re facing your notes again, and you roll your eyes. Are you his slave or what? Nonetheless, you pick up your pen and resume writing. Your best friend rests his head on your shoulder, chest pressed to your back.

Jesus Christ, he’s a muscle pig.

His fingers toy with the ends of your hair, and it almost distracts you from the loud, annoying voice of the lecturer. The room is stuffed with tired, disinterested people. Someone in fifth row is playing PacMan on their laptop. You almost wish you had remembered to take your own.

Your thoughts wander to that talk your mom wanted to have with you after school. Usually, she’s very honest and upfront with you. There are no secrets. If there’s anything that should be addressed, she does it right away. What could be so important that she’s waiting for the suprise visit to explain?

Maybe it’s a new boyfriend. But your mom knew you didn’t have anything against her looking elsewhere for love; you actually welcomed it, deeming her a “helpless single” in spite of her protest. If she had a boyfriend, you wouldn’t feel so guilty about moving out. The siblings have been begging you for a while now, and you three spend lots of nights huddled on their couch, anyways.

It doesn’t work that way, though. Your mother is all you have. You just want to be assured that she’s going to be okay without you, happy. Chairman Meow isn’t that good of a company. And if you move out, you can’t visit her all the time. Exams are coming up.

Jeno pinches your waist, a snicker tumbling from his lips when you jump. “Wanna grab a bite after this?”

“Can’t.” You abandon your pen momentarily to guide his hands away from your waist, pulling at his arms so they lock around you tighter. This hug is basically a death trap, but at least it’s enjoyable. “Mom’s planned something.”

“Like what?”

“Didn’t tell me.”

“Your mom tells you everything.”

“Gee, really?” you scoff. The remark was meant to be sarcastic, but the hurt and confusion still seeps through. Jeno soothes it with a kiss to your temple, but you wish he wouldn’t. It’s so hard to stop your heart from acting up. Convicing it that Jeno’s only being platonic is like talking to a wall. “I don’t know what’s up with her. She’s been acting weird since yesterday. It’s not like my dad’s anniversary coming up.”

“Maybe she’s finally throwing you out of the damn house. You know, it kind of sucks paying for a roommate who isn’t even there.”

Jeno recoils when you turn at that, moving faster than he can register. “I told you guys to let me pay!” you complain. To your horror, it comes out a little bit louder than intended, and if looks could kill, your professor would be charged with second degree murder. The boy beside you laughs at your suffering, but he shuts up quickly when you pinch his nose. “You seriously need to stop hanging out with Yeeun,” he hisses at you, and pins your wrists against his chest. “I was joking, you fool. No matter how many times you tell us, we’ll be paying for that room until you move in.”

The rest of the lesson is spent with Jeno and you squabbling, which is why you pack up in a hurry and leave before your professor can scold the living hell out of you. Yeeun’s already managed to snag some food from someone in her own lecture, and she shares it with you guys on the way home. When the duo drives off, they’re already arguing again, and you shake your head as you walk inside.

The apartment is strangely tidy. Not that you and your mom like to live in chaos, but it’s never this neat. “Mom?” you call out.

It’s not your mother who walks out of the kitchen. You’ve seen this face on pictures often, never face to face. It would be a disgrace for her to be seen with someone of your side of the family.

“Welcome home, (y/n),” your grandmother greets you.

❀ ❀ ❀

Jeno and Yeeun are traitors. None of them answer your distress calls, or the many panicked text messages you send them. This is treason. You’re never going to let them eat off your snack stash again.

When you had recognized your grandmother, you had promptly run to your room like a freshman in highschool and locked the elderly woman out. You did not appreciate that your mother had failed to mention that the suprise visit was the grandmother that had been resenting you for the past nineteen years.

You want nothing to do with her. She’s the reason your parents could never be together.

“(y/n),” the woman sighs, exasparated. The knocks to your door are quickly deemed useless, and she resorts to talking to you through the door. “I am aware that this must be quite the shock, but I wouldn’t have thought you’d react like this. I was told you were quite the mature woman.”

You are. Still, you angrily tell her: “You would’ve known better if you had made it your duty to see your own grandchild at least once a year!”

Silence. She doesn’t have an answer for that, and you’re glad she has atleast the brains to recognize. Still, after mulling over your words for a few minutes, she continues. “My child, this is why I came. To explain why your father didn’t stay with your mother. Why no one came to see you. Don’t you wish to know the truth?”

“You’re a little late.”

“Better late than never.”

You don’t have a clever argument for that. Sulking, you stand up and rip the door open, scaring the poor woman behind it to death. A hand placed over her heart, she reprimands you with a stern look. “Tell me, then.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Up close, she reminds you of the many pictures your mom had shown you from your father. “Tell me what was such a good reason to destroy an entire marriage with a flick of your wrist. Why I’m suddenly so important, nineteen years later.”

Your grandmother pleads you with her eyes to come out of your room, so you stroll into the living room and sit down. Your mother is waiting there for you, and you clench your fists when she mouths an “I’m sorry”.

The atmosphere is, lightly put, very uncomfortable. Your grandmother takes the liberty of pouring you and her a cup of tea, but neither of you touch it. “(y/n),” she says then. “What do you know about your father?”

“That he was ill.” You clench and unclench your hands. They’re trembling. In moments like these, you wish Yeeun or Jeno were here, but that’s silly. You should be able to master your challenges alone. So, you clear your throat and go on, voice firm, even if you feel nothing like it. “That he loved my mother dearly and you didn’t accept it.”

“I did accept it.”

“Liar,” tumbles out of your lips before you can stop it, and your mother claps a hand over her mouth. “(y/n)!” she speaks up, in disbelief that you’d talk to a family member like that. Your grandmother waves her off, but you can see the hurt in her eyes.

You hate admitting it, but it satisfies you a little.

“Your father..” The elderly woman traces the rim of her tea cup with a perfectly manicured nail. “Your father was a good man, with a sense for duty. I liked your mother a lot, but just because I liked her didn’t mean I was able to accept it. There are some things that are better left unchanged. Your parents knew that. I knew that. And that is why I wished for the engagement to be nullified.”

The words set something in you ablaze; an anger you can’t name, the protectiveness over your mother. “What in god’s name could be more important than your son marrying the woman he loves?”

Your grandmother blinks. “The throne, of course.”

You raise a brow. Behind her hands, your mother peeks to grasp your reaction. For a very long time, you wait for someone to laugh and tell you this is just a prank. When it doesn’t come, you ask: “Excuse me, what?”

“(l/n) (y/n), that is the name you were given by your mother.” Your grandmother raises the cup to her lips, unfazed by your confusion. “Though that’s not the royal name given to you. You are a direct descendant of Empress Sunmyeong, member of the Yeoheung Min clan.” She sets the cup down with a loud clatter. If you hadn’t seen her eyes, you would be very angry with her joking right now.

She’s deadly serious.

“You are Min (y/n), heir to the throne.” Your grandmother looks you right in the eyes, gaze determined, honest. “Just like your father, you are expected to ascend the throne and marry someone of blue blood.”

❀ ❀ ❀

“You didn’t confess to her?”

Jeno pouts and stuffs his mouth with marshmallows. “I didn’t get to.”

The room is dark, dimly illuminated by the light that tries to reach it through the curtains. The siblings wanted to do a movie marathon since it was the weekend and there was nothing to study for, and it isn’t fun to go out drinking without you. An hour into their first one, they’ve already abandoned it and resorted to do something else.

Talking about Jeno’s giant crush on you.

“I thought you were going to tell her in Sociology.” His sister reaches for the popcorn, disappointed to find the bowl empty. Jeno offers her the bag of marshmallows, but she shakes her head; too sweet.

“That was the plan,” he mumbles. But how is he supposed to look you in the face and tell you about his feelings, when you’re so goddamn cute? Nobody has ever made butterflies erupt in Jeno’s stomach, yet one look from you and he’s absolutely weak. The memory of you kissing him back still haunts him to this day. What if you just did it because you were under the influence? “I chickened out.”

“Shocker.”

“I hope you choke.”

Yeeun snorts. But no matter how much fun they make of each other, at the end of the day, nobody cares about Jeno like Yeeun does. She’s a really great big sister, even if she gets annoying sometimes. So when the girl reaches for the remote to turn down the volume and face him properly, he doesn’t mock her or say something provoking. He holds out his arms and pouts.

When they had been children, Jeno had fallen down the stairs once and promptly fainted. He doesn’t remember much about it, but what stuck with him was the sight of little Yeeun looming over him, crying in worry. She hisses and hits Jeno often, but the second someone else does it, he has to physically hold her back. (She’s tiny, but she packs quite the punch.)

The day Yeeun had found out about his crush on her best friend, he had been drunk off his ass and crying. That’s why she told him that it was going to be alright, because she has his back. So when Jeno inches closer in the wish to be held, she only rolls his eyes and throws her arms around his shoulders. “You’re so annoying. Why’d I get the annoying younger brother?”

“Shut up and comfort me. I was really going to tell her today.” Jeno sniffs. He’s not going to cry, though, he’s only being dramatic. He wishes you were here. “I was so close.”

“I know. Next time.” His sister messes up his hair and grins at him. He laughs at that, reaching out to dishevel her own, and it soon escalates into them wrestling on the couch, fighting for the last bag of Dorito’s.

Their fight is cut short by several quick knocks to the door.

Jeno looks at Yeeun. “Are you expecting somebody?”

She can’t answer; a key is turned in the lock and as they look up alarmed, they’re greeted with the sight of you walking in, your eyes red from all the crying, the apartment’s spare key in your hand.

You hiccup. A tell-tale sign that you’ve been sobbing and are currently trying to stop yourself. “Hi,” you mumble. That’s the magic word for both siblings to jump up and run to you, familiar hands wiping over your wet face and your shoulders. “I just had the worst day ever and I just want to collapse into someone’s bed and die. Thank you.”

“Go rest in my room,” Jeno offers. “Come on.” You don’t need to be told twice, feet carrying you to the room you’ve been so many times before. Your followed by your best friends, who even go as far as tucking you in, and Yeeun leaves a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t go,” you whisper.

So they don’t. They take you into their middle, Yeeun on your left, Jeno on your right, both brother and sister hugging you tightly. You’re lucky you all fit on Jeno’s bed, and for a while, you just keep laying there, staring at Jeno’s ceiling that’s been freshly painted. As they hold you, you start explaining your weird, nonsense circumstances. They don’t interrupt you once.

You want to stay like this always. Some things in life come and go, but the friendship to these two stays forever. The many nights you spent stargazing. The different occassions of someone crying and the other two cheering them up. Long hugs, adoration that is spoken out loud, silent support. You want to cling to these memories, to their hands, stay in this bed for the rest of your life.

But you’re a princess. You have your loyalties towards the crown, towards your father. Accepting the duty your grandmother laid in your hands feels like treason towards yourself, but you also can’t turn your back on what your father is giving to you.

Family honor. Blood is thicker than water.

That’s why weeks after this, Yeeun and Jeno see you less and less. They knock and spam your phone with several messages, but all they get is half-hearted apologies hours later. Sometimes, there is no response at all. It hurts them a lot, to the point where they spend several days of the week skipping uni to stay home and stuff themselves with ice cream. There’s a (y/n)-shaped hole in their daily lifes, and in Jeno’s heart.

You miss them terribly, just like they miss you. Time is running out until your official coronation, and your grandmother has been preparing you and getting closer to you at the same time. One afternoon, you both cried as you looked over pictures of your father’s coronation.

“I’m so sorry you weren’t able to see him,” she had told you, voice shaky, hands trembling as they gripped yours. For the better part of your life, this woman had been an unknown evil. Now, you’re able to see the love and regret in her eyes. You see it in the way she treats your mother like a proper daughter-in-law, even though she never got to be. The fond smile the queen gifts you with when you show her your photo album with dad’s letters. The pride that’s swelling up in her chest when you behave just like your father. “He loved you long before you were born, just like I did.”

There’s no use denying your feelings for Jeno when the dooming reality is that you’re not allowed to have him, anyways. You don’t tell anyone about your feelings, especially not the queen. But there are nights where you sob yourself to sleep, listening to a particular sad voicemail where Jeno whispers into his phone how badly he wishes you were here. You’re aware your mother knows, because to her, you’re an open book. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything either. When you mourn your childhood crush, she puts your favorite cookies on the nightstand, leaves a kiss on the crown of your head and closes the door to your room.

Being alone is the only gift she can give you right now. In the whirlwind that is an official introduction to the public, getting some peace and quiet was like heaven.

Your coronation is on the day of your nineteenth birthday.

For the first time, you’re really scared about opening your father’s letter. It’s the last one you’re ever going to receive, and the dread sits heavy in the pit of your stomach. It’s such an umcomfortable feeling. Usually, those letters were a chance to look into your father’s heart. The words that convey his love wrap around you like an embrace, and there are many letters you know word for word. Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear. Your sixteenth letter. You didn’t understand then, but you understand now. The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all.

You open the letter.

Tears swim in your eyes before you can even realize what is written. You feel so overwhelmed by everything; the need to make your father proud, the love growing steadily in your chest for a man you can’t have. The fear of abandoning your mother. The heavy weight of a crown you never actually wanted. It smothers you, and you need several attempts to catch your breath.

A warm hand wipes your tears away. You didn’t even notice your mother sliding into the seat beside you, but you’re glad she did. She lets you rest your head on her shoulder, and familiar fingers that you’ve known all your life loosen up any knots in your hair. With her help, you’re finally able to read your father’s last words for you.

My dearest (y/n),

What a woman you must have become. If there’s any chance you’ve gotten your mother’s stubbornness, I can rest assured that you know how to get everything you want in your life and what you want. After all, that’s how she charmed me.

Today is the day you turn into an adult. By now, I’m sure you’ve been confronted with the throne you’re about to inherit. When I was your age, there was nothing more exciting than that. Other than you, I was raised to be king, taught what was needed to be known and fed with the love to our people. There is no physical impact you can do as royalty in the 21st century, but we represent the tradition of our country. The voice of those who cannot talk for themselves. We have no power in parliament, but we have the power to get loud enough for it to hear us. What others cannot, we must do for them. To help those who cannot help themselves, we must do everything.

But that is only if you want your crown.

(y/n), the crown was not a family heirloom I intended to give you if you didn’t want it. I love your mother, and I love you. I will continue to do that always, whether you decide to claim your birth right or reject it. I love you even if you abandon the family’s traditions to become the person you’ve always dreamt of, and I will still do that when you ascend the throne and make it yours. We are not our ancestors. The future doesn’t lie in our hands. But we can shape it, just like any other person. We can take each other by the hand and change the world together. My father taught me that long before he taught me how to love the crown.

What he didn’t teach me is the love to another person. It’s the only tradition everyone is too proud to change, or get rid of. Arranged marriages are a given, even though our monarchy has changed to accomadate to modern times. But nothing in this world could have stopped me from giving your mother my heart. After all, she blessed me with the most perfect child and love I ever received. To love is to be blessed. I want you to choose whoever you love. Fight for what you believe in, for I couldn’t do it. It is the only thing I regret in my life. I wanted to give your mother the world, and all I’ve given her is suffering. I hope you can give her that for me.

My mother is very proud. It’s what I got from her. It’s not something I want for you. Pride is nothing but silly. Love without being afraid, (y/n). If the person you give your heart to ends up to be royal or not, does not matter. If you choose to not marry at all is up to you.

All I wish for you is to be happy.

I wish for you to be healthy and satisfied. I wish that you accomplish anything you set your mind to and that you can be proud of your hard work. I wish for you to be supported unconditionally and I wish for you to always have the warmth of your mother in your life, for I can’t be there to do it. I love you, my dearest daughter. You are the greatest gift God has given me.

Happy birthday, little (y/n). May you be in good spirits always. Thank you for making your father beyond happy, even though it was only for a short period of time.

With love,

Dad

You can’t stop sobbing. You set the letter down so your tears don’t ruin it, and your hands move to cover your wet face. The crying doesn’t stop, no matter how much your mother kisses you all over and hugs you close. “I wish I could’ve met him,” you bawl.

Your mother fixes your hair and smiles at you, both happy and sad. “I wish that, too.” Another kiss to your forehead. You hiccup. “He would’ve been the best father.”

The words are imprinted into your mind, haunting you while you get ready. Your grandmother is going to introduce you to the public as the princess for the first time, but thankfully, you don’t have to be queen yet. This press conference is only for you to officially claim the throne. Ascending it wouldn’t happen before you finish university and spent the many years learning how to be a queen with your grandmother. You recite the letter in your head while your face is painted by make-up, and you mouth the words while the last finishing touches are done to your dress. The crown set on your head is light, but it feels like the heaviest thing you ever had to carry in your life.

Someone knocks at the door. Your mother sticks her head through, big smile on your face. You give her one back, even though your heart aches.

You wish Yeeun and Jeno were here.

“You’ve got company,” your mom declares and disappears again. The person stepping inside is not your grandmother, as you expected, but Lee Jeno.

His eyes grow wide when he sees you. And the way he looks at you! As if you were the only star in his universe. Your chest swells with love when you see the awe in his eyes, and you don’t even think about reaching out for him. It happens on instinct. Two big steps, and Jeno carefully wraps his arms around your figure. The people who helped you dress up quietly leave the room.

“You look so, so beautiful,” Jeno whispers into your ear. “So gorgeous. I thought I was looking at an angel.”

“Kiss-up,” you mumble, yet you still turn your head to grin at him. Unbeknownst to you, the sight almost makes Jeno’s heart stop. The things you do to him... “How’d you know I was here?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” He nudges the tiara on your head. You giggle. “And even if it weren’t apparent, I still would have found a way to meet you. Because I’ve been dying to tell you something.”

That he was disappointed with you? That it’s all your fault the friendship is going downhill right now? You bite the inside of your cheek. Well, it’s not like you don’t deserve to be told off. So you brace yourself for the reprimanding.

“I love you,” is all you’re getting.

It’s your turn to gape at him. Did you imagine him saying that? Is your brain starting to mess with your perception because you’ve been obsessing over your father’s letter? But no, you’re not dreaming - Jeno is looking you in the eyes, soul laid bare. Waiting for you to reject him and send him off forever.

Your hands cup his face. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” Jeno inches closer. He smells like his perfume and a little bit of Yeeun’s deodorant. You know he always ends up using it accidentally, and it makes his sister laugh without end. You know everything about the man in front of you. Your heart spent years gathering information on the only person who’s ever lived there. “When you first gave me the money for that stupid snack in elementary school, I adored you. I didn’t know shit about love then. But I know that I missed you terribly when you didn’t go to school and I know that I loved having you fall asleep on mine and Yeeun’s lap after hours of studying. I loved twirling you around at prom. I love being the one to wake you up in the morning because you get all doe-eyed and clingy when you‘re barely awake. I love listening to things you’re excited about because you end up rambling and your voice is the nicest thing to listen to. (y/n), I may not have known back then what I was dealing with. But I got it bad, and I still do. If you asked me right now, I’d go on my knees just for a slither of affection. I love you. I love you so much, and yet my heart will make more space tomorrow to love you even more. I don’t think I’ll ever stop and at this point, I don’t want to.”

“Jeno,” you whisper. You want to cry again. “Jeno, I’m going to be queen someday.”

“You already are,” he tells you. His voice is soft, just like how he’s holding you close to him. When you lay your hands on his chest, you can hear his heart racing, pounding heavily against his ribs. As if it’s trying to jump into your hands. “You’re my queen. After all, you rule over my heart and my mind. There’s not a second I don’t think about you. Is that so bad?”

“No.” Jeno lets you tug him closer, accepts the kiss you deliver to his lips and the countless ones after that. Every single one is an unspoken confirmation. I’m yours. “Jeno, I love you, but I can’t... I can’t marry someone...” Who’s not blue-blooded, you want to say. You don’t finish your sentence. He doesn’t let you.

“Choose me,” he begs you, heart on his tongue, delivered to you on a silver platter. It’s all he can offer you as Lee Jeno, your childhood prince, the one your heart and soul craves. “Please, choose me.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Time is a flimsy thing.

It flies by when you’re not paying attention, not even for the coronation of a new queen. It doesn’t halt for the freshly crowned, neither does it for anyone else. Compared to claiming your birth right, finishing university was way easier.

But the easiest thing was getting rid of this stupid tradition. It does not survive a day of your regency, despite many in your family bashing you for it. They were silenced the second your grandmother backs you up on it, and you’re eternally grateful for that.

She’s not going to do the same mistake again. Never again is she going to rip apart two lovers who aren’t meant to be seperated.

Lee Jeno is nothing but a regular boy, but it doesn’t stop him from falling to his knees the second the rule is disabled, never to be abided by again. There are crowns adorning your head that are more expensive than the ring he holds in his hands for you, but you’d toss them all away to keep him forever. There is nothing more precious to you in this world than your childhood prince.

You marry out of love, not out of duty. For the rest of your life, you’re going to wake up to Jeno and his sweet smile, crescent eyes and all. You’ll spend eternity reminding your soon-to-be husband how much you adore him, and someday, you’ll watch your children do that, too. You’re absolutely sure your father would be proud of you.

(And to make one thing clear - Yeeun makes a killer maid of honor. Both Jeno and you can vouch for that.)

You may not have ended up with a royal partner, but you sure as hell found your own Prince Charming.

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ah-kasuna · 4 years

Text

Puppetry in a Nutshell // ♥ I ♥

Pairing: SasoDei

AU: Art School

THIS IS THE 1ST PART AND MY VERY 1ST TRANSLATION ;_; I ain’t native speaker, so there will be mistakes I think, so please let me know about them, so I could fix em! Tbh it feels like doin it with the blindfold on, so XD Yeah, forgive me anyway.

I hope you’ll like it!♥ Let me know what you think please! Love ya!

AND I DEDICATE IT TO @deidaraakasuna, U KNOW WHY♥♥♥

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Geidai.

The world-famous Fine Arts Academy, located in one of the most charming corners of Tokyo.

A place that growing artists dream about, perceiving it as a mystical land of inspiration and creativity (until they see sculpture students playing with their own Pony ponies).

The university to get to is a high-class feat, usually drenched in liters of alcohol and liters of tears in a later hangover. After all, who wouldn't get drunk on this occasion?

I smiled at the vague memories as I unpacked my breakfast and shook my head fondly. Basically, this sentimental feeling of being an old woman with a bunch of grandchildren has accompanied me since the beginning of my sophomore year, when I watched the freshmen roaming the corridors in sweet ignorance of their fate. Fortunately or not, this intoxicating state faded into non-existent at the end of the first semester as the session approached. And it just so happened that it was just approaching, breaking the will to fight along the way and magically depriving the students of creative inspiration, the one necessary - as you can easily guess - to pass half a year at a group of charming leaders.

My gloomy eyes followed the classroom. Outside the corridor window, visible through the open door, a bird chirped merrily. The weather was beautiful - a typical Japanese spring. The cherries were blooming, scattering fragrant white-pink petals around, and I was rotting at the epicenter of All Evil, like a condemned man aware of what was about to happen. And which happened cyclically twice a week, because my goddamn ambition pushed me to apply for this equally damned university. And so I redeemed my sins before I died, regretting abandoning the idea of self-improvement in the privacy of my modest (but equipped with a kettle and toaster!) Apartment. What more could you want?

I shoved a huge piece of bread in my mouth, which I chewed for five minutes before he graciously wanted to squeeze through my esophagus. A dry mouth like this meant only one thing: my brain finally picked up the information that puppetry classes were about to begin. For my despairing amusement, everyone was rushing to their seats, with shaking hands shoving paints, chisels, and the rest of the necessary utensils out of their bags, as if someone's life depended on the speed of their perfect arrangement on the table. I felt a sudden urge to laugh out loud.

If asked about the reason why the very thought of puppetry gave the vast majority of students sudden symptoms of delirium and depression, the answer would be simple, concise, and more eloquent than the potency pill ads: Hell Cerberus aka Sasori Akasuna. Officially - a lecturer in a terribly heavy and hated subject; in fact - the walking essence of the deepest pits of hell. What was it about him that wherever he went - everyone immediately cut off discussions and silly games? Well, the puppetry professor not only carefully nurtured the art of being laconic, cynical and ruthless. He was devilishly intelligent, even more talented and vindictive and possesive a tons of sophisticated sarcasm, which he liked to apply with the greatest pleasure to me.

The bell rang. Everyone but me jumped up immediately and Akasuna entered the classroom. As always: in a perfectly matched shirt, elegant pants, a perfectly knotted tie and an equally perfect boredom on the face.

I reluctantly swallowed the rest of my bun, limiting myself to lazily lifting my ass off the chair and making a painful expression. Anyway, I was a loser at the outset, so I saw no point in putting on a similar play as the others, which only maked him sastisfied more. I clenched my fists automatically. Not this time, man!

The professor walked slowly towards the cathedral by stairs, giving the impression of a man who scrupulously and deeply don't care for this worldly place and time. And perhaps I would even fall for his 'dun-give-a-shit' play, if I had not been marked by his hatred from the very first class. And yet, it's not like I did something to him, oh no. I was simply not susceptible to his mental puppet strings, so I stubbornly disagreed with him on the essence of the art. For him, the highest dimension of beauty were - horror of horrors - goofy make-uped puppets; for me, the art was much less crude carving in plastic materials, where every little movement could fix or spoil everything. And the wood? It was too patient, too tough, hard to work with, unresponsive to the tender touch of trained hands, and it had splinters ...

Everything happened according to the established order. Akasuna checked the attendance, gave an excruciatingly boring spiel about our laziness and talentlessness (noting that exams were coming up), and then had everyone make an individual puppet design. I groaned woefully like the rest of them, reluctantly reaching into my bag for a sketchbook and a set of pencils.

I loved nothing so much as wasting my time gouging dolls. To my left, a class idiot Tobi, wrapped in an orange and black scarf almost under his nose, looked at me as if I was a revelation of heavens.

"Don't even try," I said, feeling what was happening." We'll be kicked out both."

The guy made cat eyes, but said nothing more, and I went to work. I was drawing the lines in concentration, letting my mind wander along the definitely nice tracks, and in the end I turned off mind for good. And I would have been drawing in peace so I'd probably have finished this stupid task if that black-haired moron at the desk next to mine had not disturbed me with his grunts accompanying his neck stretching towards my work.

It was the end of my composure. I lifted my head from the project and cursed him to the next five generation, supporting my words with a discreet but well-hit kick. There was a muffled groan.

"Kawamoto, shall you explain me what are you doing?" I immediately heard the distinctive, bored tone of his voice and stiffened on my chair.

The professor was standing a few steps away from me, eyebrows raised and hands folded across his chest.

"Should I take you to the playground?"

"I'm trying to work, professor," I grunted, holding back the appropriate retort and wondering how the heck did he materialized at my desk.

"Good choice of words, indeed." The corner of his mouth curled up in a cynical smile. "Then be that kind and continue your trials in peace, unless you prefer to try at another university."

I felt my blood flooding. Tobi inhaled loudly, knowing what awaited him at the break, and Akasuna leisurely returned to the cathedral, occasionally glancing at me with hideous satisfaction.

I hated him. I hated him most sincerely and most earnestly, with particular emphasis on his physicality, which, despite the sadistic nature, made most of the female students' knees soften and their tongues tangled. Because exactly! He wasn't just a psychopath. He was a disgustingly handsome psychopath who was well aware of this fact and was not embarrassed to make use of it.

Unfortunately, it happened that he accidentaly found out about my moderate interest in the opposite sex, and from that moment he enjoyed torturing me with himself, perfectly guessing my preferences and weaknesses.

"May you rot in these shavings," I drawled under my breath, sticking a pencil on a blank sheet of paper and tracing a busty doll in a ballerina costume on it, with revenge paints 'Miss Sasori' on her exposed ass. And I would probably enjoy this piece of finest art until the end of the class, if I hadn't realized what my "blank sheet" was and why I just sentenced myself to death. I scribbled a porn image of the puppetry professor on the outline.

The bell rang.

"I would like to remind you that today we have the deadline for submitting the presentation plans to pass," his voice occurred to me as if through a fog.

Did I really hoped it would end well? With my heart pounding in the chest, I tore the rubber band out of my pocket, trying to erase the traces of my crime, as I caught above me the distinctive smell of his perfume.

"It was especially to you, Kawamoto," he announced icily, slipping the battered paper out from under my hands with a nimble movement.

He attached it to the stack of papers he held, without even glaring at it, and left me sitting at the desk with a silent scream of terror on my face.

#sasodei #FINALLY GAWDDDDDDDDDDDD #sasori #deidara #sasori x deidara #sasodei fanfic #sasodei fanfiction #sasodei AU #hannami #puppetry in a nutshell #akasuna no sasori #naruto #naruto fanfiction #my #my fanfic

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the-irrelevant-trumpeter · 4 years

Text

My Ranking of StarKid shows

Okay, so I haven’t posted any original content for a while, so I’m gonna do some ranking. Note: I don’t dislike any of the shows, they’re all amazing and just because a show is low on my list doesn’t mean I don’t like it.

Also, spoiler warning for all of them (duh)

So here we gooooo

12) Holy Musical B@man

I don’t know, to be honest... the humour just didn’t click with me as much as the other shows did. I’ve never seen or read any Batman or DC stuff, so that doesn’t help, but it just really didn’t stick out to me. However, it’s still amazing. The soundtrack is great (Rogues are We is my 3rd favourite StarKid song), Brian Holden as Superman is iconic, and it was overall very sweet and fun.

11) Me and My Dick

This is mostly because I don’t like sex, but the other parts are really sweet! Joey/Sally is such an underrated ship (so is Tiffanessa... yeah I’m still thinking about them...) and it had a lot of good songs and funny scenes (AJ as Joey’s Heart was the best thing ever). It was made in 2009, so some of the jokes are outdated, but the good parts are great.

10) A Very Potter Senior Year

This is mainly so low because of some personal reasons (that I’m not going to go into). But it was really sweet and made me cry, had some great songs (looking at you Sidekick...) and was amazing when you take into account that they barely had any rehearsal time.

9) Ani: A Parody

I’m actually really sad about putting this so low. Ani is so good and is severely underrated. Chris Allen was amazing, and JJ’s death was, in my opinion, one of the saddest deaths in a StarKid musical. My only criticism is Tarkin and Emily’s relationship, which has got to be one of my least favourite ships, but it did provide some funny moments, and Joe and Julia were amazing. Nick’s Obi-Wan was hilarious. Also, the music slaps and anyone who says it isn’t a real musical because the cast doesn’t sing can fight me, because Clark and Pierce went too hard for us to say that it doesn’t count. Also, despite what a lot of people say, I have watched like 2 Star Wars movies and still understood most of the jokes. They actually did a really good job of making it funny for everyone, and the point of most of the jokes were that you didn’t have to understand them. I think that if I hadn’t seen or read Harry Potter, or watched Aladdin or Disney, I would have enjoyed Ani more than the AVP Trilogy and Twisted.

Wow, went on a rant there. Okay...

8) Twisted

This is going to be unpopularly low... I do love it, I just don’t vibe with it as much. It was really great, it was constantly making me laugh, the soundtrack was amazing, and I loved how it kind of had a moral to the story. I just don’t really care, y’know. It was great, but just didn’t capture my attention like some of them. I don’t really have any more to say on it.

7) A Very Potter Musical

Ah, the OG musical. AVPM has so much nostalgic value. I think it really holds a special place in all of our hearts. It was the first StarKid musical I watched, and I just have a lot of fond memories from it. Actual quality wise, it’s probably not as good as a lot of them, but it’s what started this whole thing, and it’s gotta go up higher.

6) Black Friday

I’ve seen a lot of dislike for this one, which I think isn’t really fair? My only real criticism is that it’s very busy and has got a lot going on, but so do a lot of the others. I think it has one of the strongest soundtracks, Jeff did an amazing job. All of the cast was great, and the filming was outstanding. I think a lot of people don’t like it because it was the most serious, but honestly, I like that StarKid is trying something new (AND it still had so many funny moments as well). Yeah, I just think it is amazing.

5) A Very Potter Sequel

In my opinion, this is definitely the best of the AVP Trilogy. It was the funniest for me, had the best soundtrack (Days of Summer, The Coolest Girl, Harry Freakin’ Potter, I could keep on going for ages). Obviously there’s the problem with the portrayal of Umbridge. I’m not the best with words, so I won’t go into it, but a lot of other people have put it really well. But apart from that, it’s really great.

Okay, the next two are basically tied. I usually choose them based on which one I’m vibing with at the moment, but just consider them the same.

4) Firebringer

I’ll admit, I originally didn’t like this one, but then I rewatched it and was amazed that I’d slept on it for so long. It’s very funny, the soundtrack is amazing, the choreography is amazing (thank you Denise Donovan), and let’s not forget, THE COSTUMES. HAVE YOU SEEN HOW GREAT THE COSTUMES ARE. JUNE SAITO IS A QUEEN. Anyway, yeah, it’s really well written, and i super sweet and fun to watch (also Jazzalil was not rushed and I can and will write a whole essay on it).

3) Trail to Oregon

I just love how dumb it is. It’s so silly and immature, and it’s great to watch. It is, in my opinion, the funniest StarKid show. It has the perfect small ensemble cast (also let’s take a moment to appreciate Joey Richter. Thank you, you may continue) and it has CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT! WE LOVE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT! The music is amazing (even You Gotta Go, which everyone seems to hate because of the fart noises). I just love it heaps. Also, it has my ALL TIME FAVOURITE STARKID SONG EVER! WAGON ON FIRE ROCKS!

2) Starship

I feel like most people assume this is my favourite because of my username, which is valid and I can understand why. Starship is my comfort musical. It’s my emotional support musical. It’s just... so cute? It’s silly and a bit of fun, and is just kind of a feel-good show. I don’t mind how busy it is, it keeps me entertained all the way through and makes me want to come back and watch it again. It is also the home of my OTP (Tootsie/Megagirl is the cutest thing ever and I will die with that opinion). It also has some of the best characters. Also, in my opinion, it has the best soundtrack, despite only having 10 songs - it’s got 2 songs in my Top 5 (The Way I Do at no. 2 and Kick it up a Notch at no. 4), and there’s not a single song I dislike. The puppets were freaking amazing! I just love it A LOT and I think all of the StarKid’s are really sleeping on it (looking at you Nick...)

1) The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals

Yes, I know, I’m very boring and stereotypical. I’m sorry I couldn’t have a more interesting opinion.

I really don’t think there’s much denying that TGWDLM has the best plot/storyline. It gives me big Dr. Who vibes, which I love. I’m usually not a big fan of horror, but this was the perfect mix of seriousness and comedy. It’s very engaging and keeps you wondering what happens next. I’ll admit, I’m a sucker for angsty endings, which TGWDLM definitely provides. I just really love sci-fi stuff. It has a really strong soundtrack, top notch dancing, and was just overall the best StarKid show.

So yeah, that’s my ranking. Tell me what you thought! I’ll probably do some song rankings for each show. Also don’t be too angry at me please.

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aliceslantern · 3 years

Text

Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 1

Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.

Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.

But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.

Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

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Ienzo thought he had gotten over the strangeness of being back here. But it was one thing to work on decrypting Even’s replica data, another to work on examining a girl’s heart.

With company.

The console was a sea of old papers and teacups. One of them had finally caved and dragged in chairs. While Ienzo’s knowledge of the heart had only grown over the years, he could scarcely remember how to actually examine one, especially without hurting its owner. Translating the untranslatable into data and then having to translate that into something conveyable… it was a headache.

A loud, pounding headache. Not helped at all by the fact that Even liked to talk to himself why he worked.

Yes. Ienzo was not used to company anymore.

He looked over his shoulder, if so just to stretch his eyes for a moment. Kairi was sound asleep. He got up and tucked the blanket a little more firmly around her shoulders. She would’ve been more comfortable in one of the pods, but to get to them one had to pass through the basement, and none of them were willing to bring that up. It was lucky most of the papers had been digitized all those years ago; nobody could actually manage to go down there.

He’d thought he’d been prepared. After all, he’d worked up here for weeks--longer. But actually putting in that code and walking down the long, long spiraling ramp, seeing the doors of cells--

Another pulse of pain echoed through his head, and he pressed a hand to his brow. “Alright, Ienzo?” Ansem asked.

He shook his head to clear away the headache. “My eyes are tired,” he said. “That’s all.”

“Why don’t you take a break? Get yourself some coffee? You’ve been in here since early this morning.”

“It’s alright.” When he went to sit back down, his knees were weak; he had to grip the back of the chair.

Ansem smiled sadly. “You cannot do your best work if you’re not rested. Go on, Ienzo.”

“And get some sleep,” Even snapped, not looking up. “You’re too young to look that exhausted.”

“Pot, kettle, black. Minus perhaps the youth.”

He scowled. Ienzo saw Ansem trying not to laugh.

The hallways were dark and cold, despite best efforts to repair the shattered lighting. He walked back in a haze, his headache throbbing worse. He used to never be prone to such things.

He saw Dilan in the distance. Neither he nor Aeleus wanted to join in the research, content enough to split their time on construction and guard duty; though it wasn’t like there was much to guard these days. Ienzo could not blame them. He actually envied them, their ability to just leave behind that chapter of their lives. But Ienzo had been the one to volunteer his knowledge, after all. If so many lives had to be lost for what they learned, best to use it for good.

“Stray’s at the door for you,” he said. Rather than the deep blue guard uniform, he was in paint-spattered overalls.

“I’ve told him he’s welcome to come right on up,” Ienzo said, shaking his head. “I don’t know why he always waits at the door.”

“It’s polite,” Dilan said, rolling his eyes. “Though I don’t recall that one being so polite in the past.”

Ienzo shrugged. He didn’t want to think of that time if he could avoid it. Easier to treat Riku like a blank canvas, a stranger. Ienzo suspected that he might do the same. He gathered himself, loosened his ascot just slightly, and went outside.

“Riku. Hello. I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

He looked a bit sheepish. “I know you said you’d call if you found out anything major--”

“Yes. That is true.” He tried for a smile, found it too difficult. “There’s nothing new yet. Nothing that we didn’t already guess, anyway.”

“...Right.” He dropped his eyes. In the past several weeks since they’d been doing all this, his hair had started to grow out of the brisk spikes and hung, ungelled, around his eyes.

“I do hope you didn’t come all this way for this,” Ienzo said.

He shook his head. “The committee was helping me with something.”

“...Oh, Sora’s data?”

“Yes.”

“That actually sounds very interesting.”

He chuckled. “Honestly, it’s more like videogames than anything. It’s all just fight data. No memories.” He sighed.

“...Oh.”

An awkward pause. Ienzo had been trying not to look at Riku directly, focusing instead on his unkempt hair, which seemed more white than silver in this light. But actually seeing the young man’s face made him realize that Riku was exhausted too. “I shouldn’t keep you,” he said. “You seem like a busy person.”

“Will you go home, then?”

This seemed like the wrong thing to say; Riku tensed. “No, not home. Not yet.” He brushed at his bangs, but they just flopped back in his eyes. “I’ve been asked to keep an eye on the Land of Departure. Kind of like housesitting, to be honest.” A nervous smile. “I don’t mind it.”

“Land of Departure? You mean--”

Riku’s smile faded. “You know it as Castle Oblivion.”

A long, tremulous pause. Ienzo saw it without meaning to--the fight on the imaginary Destiny Islands, a brutal slash to the back, a basement corner, Axel, the puppet’s hands closing around his throat--

“...You okay?”

He jerked a little. This Riku was not that Riku. He was older, taller, his voice a bit deeper. But the color of his eyes was the same. “I’m sorry,” he stammered.

“...I know. Lotta bad memories wrapped up in that place. But it’s… it’s not the same.”

“Logically I knew one came from the other, but…” Ienzo shook his head.

Another pause, longer than the last.

“You, and me,” Riku said slowly. “If we’re going to be working closely with her, for her… we can’t… skirt around it much, can we.”

“...I guess not. It doesn’t seem like starting over has been much help, yes?”

“Right. Look, I don’t… hold it against you.”

This surprised him. “You don’t? But--”

A sigh. “Look, I’ve also done things I regret. A lot of things. Holding onto all that… being mad at others, or myself… doesn’t help, and doesn’t make sticking to the new path any easier.” Riku shrugged. “You guys are trying to be better. That’s what matters.”

Riku’s words were evoking something sharp and tight in him. He wasn’t sure what it was. “You don’t have to forgive me.”

“I want to,” he said, and he seemed to mean it. “You don’t have to forgive me, either.”

“You did nothing wrong in that scenario. It’s different--” He felt a flush rising in his face.

Riku shook his head. “Not really.”

Ienzo wasn’t sure what to say. The feeling threatened to strangle him--

“As much as I’d love to philosophize more on the meaning of darkness, I should get going,” he said, with a small smile. “Sorry for dropping by.”

“It’s… fine…” Ienzo said, dropping his eyes. “Safe travels.”

He watched Riku walk off, trying to swallow down the feeling. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. The memories here were bad enough, much less the ones there.

He went inside and decided to try and sleep. Ienzo had never been very good at sleep, not as Zexion, either. Nobodies did not require sleep; it was a much more voluntary process. As was eating and drinking water. The nothingness in their beings could sustain, if willed.

Humanity really felt so intense and so fragile, like he was a piece of glass being flung across the room, waiting for the fall.

Ienzo decided to take a bath, as though the hot water would finally will him into submission. He did miss how clean that castle was, how nothing was broken, how it didn’t take minutes for the water to warm. After the world’s fall, the majority of Radiant Garden--especially the castle--was in abject disrepair. When he was a child, it had taken a full staff to keep the place clean, well-kept, but it had been so--

Memories everywhere he turned. They just felt so--achingly sharp. He didn’t want to think at all.

Ienzo took a deep breath and slid under the water, rendering the off-white tile into ripples.

---

Riku was bored.

No; this was an understatement. The more time he spent here, alone, in the Land of Departure, the more he felt like his mind was turning to mush. The hallways were too wide and too empty, and everything was so quiet. His own footsteps and breath seemed deafening in comparison.

Riku was not used to quiet. If it weren’t for the whispering of Heartless, or the ambient sounds of busy and inhabited worlds, then there were other sounds, like the hush of waves in the distance. He could tell that he was the only person alive here. At first he’d tried to convince himself he liked the peace.

The peace just made him aware of how empty everything was, and how alone he was. At least if he’d been alone on his quests in the past, he had a goal, something to word towards, and in a way that goal hadn’t changed; bringing his friends home safe. Going back to normal. But normal hadn’t been so great either, had it? He’d been so eager to escape it, that so-called prison.

But right now… there wasn’t much for Riku to do to help achieve that goal. All he had to do was wait .

Riku had never been that good at waiting. For several days he roamed the grounds around the castle, looking for Heartless or Nobodies or Dream Eaters or Unversed or something to fight, some small evil to purge or free. But it was clear that there was nothing here, nothing to give him diversion from how utterly useless he felt.

So much for being a Keyblade master. His title felt silly, useless. He was literally just house sitting. For all his supposed power, he couldn’t help Kairi in her sleep or Sora… wherever he was.

If he was at all.

Riku forced the thought from his mind and got up from the bed in the room he’d been sleeping in. Terra had said to make himself comfortable, and there did seem to be a whole lot more unoccupied space for Keybearing students. But still, using someone else’s space made him… uneasy. He even wished he had something to clean , but in one of her many small notes left to him, Aqua had said there were spells that banished grime, and not to worry about it. (It had been kind of funny, though, the first time he spilled some tea; it disappeared into nothing.)

It was clear this place had been a home, some eleven years ago. Riku allowed himself to explore a few rooms a day, aware that, unlike in Castle Oblivion, the space here was finite. It would end. If he wasted it all in one big sweeping day of exploration, then what?

It’d be… just quiet. Just him.

He tried to structure his days. Wake up at a certain time, eat at a certain time, train for a certain amount of time. The spinning rings in the courtyard were useful (and made him question what, exactly, they were made out of), but even they were designed for students.

(Try to ignore the nightmares, of that strange city, of Sora, nightmares that faded into nothing as soon as he tried to understand them--)

He tried to read, to study magic with some of Aqua’s many, many spellbooks, but the theory was hopelessly complicated for his already-foggy mind. He kept thinking of Kairi, lying prone in that small white chair. It had been weeks , how come those scientists didn’t have anything new to say--

Patience. Breathe.

Riku got up and started walking.

If he squinted hard, he could see places where aspects of Castle Oblivion had come from. The moulding here. The planter there. The pattern of the wallpaper in some rooms.

Bringing it up had clearly made Ienzo uncomfortable. That had been a dumb, tactless thing to say. And truthfully… when Riku saw those pieces of that place here… his memories burned too. The darkness had crawled up inside of him, threatening to burrow deep and take over. That burning, aching feeling, its weight, its pressure. The inexorable rush of power when it broke through during those battles.

He looked at his palm. That burn didn’t feel the same anymore. He wasn’t sure it would ever go away , but the temptation had changed, become something he could utilize. Like turning on a faucet versus a crack in a dam.

He wondered if the former Organization members felt the same, or if they’d felt the same pull to darkness to begin with. He realized he could just ask , but then remembering how stricken Ienzo had looked, realized equally he couldn’t . But what about DiZ--Ansem the Wise? Had he felt the same? The old man seemed more approachable, despite the fact that Riku knew the dark side of him too.

Such complicated bedfellows. They did seem to… want to be better people.

He’d heard the stories from Leon about what happened in the basement labs. And he’d seen what they were capable of in Castle Oblivion, and the World that Never Was, and…

What of the things he could’ve done, if he hadn’t fought Ansem--the Heartless one? If it hadn’t been for Sora--

Sora. If not for Sora, and Kairi and Mickey, he could’ve ended up on that wrong path for longer, too.

Riku missed his friends.

#give/take #ienzo #riku #ienzoku #ienzo/riku #ienzo is trans #melody of memory spoilers

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years

Text

Platinum Cherry Blossom - Kujo Jotaro (2/2)

MULAN x STARDUST CRUSADERS & VENTO AUREO (just a tiny bit)

Cast:

Fa Mulan - Reader Li Shang - Kujo Jotaro Fa Li (Mulan’s mother) - Bruno Buccellati (You had it coming...) Fa Zhou (Mulan’s father) - Leone Abbacchio (Godamn it, me...) Little Brother (Mulan’s dog) - Ghirga Narancia (Wtf am I doing?) Grandmother Fa - Guido Mista (By this point, you can go ahead and throw me out of the window) The Matchmaker - Trish Una (Sorry, girl, I never liked you) Chi Fu (Annoying Advisor) - Enyaba The Emperor - Joseph Joestar General Li - Sadao (Jotaro’s dad that’s not busy playing the sax anymore) Shan Yu - Dio Brando Yao - Jean - Pierre Polnareff Ling - Kakyoin Noriaki Chien-Po - Avdol Muhammad Mushu - Iggy Cricket - Sex Pistols (Mainly #5)

This is so much fun omfg, hope you’re enjoying the ride as much as I am!!!

CLICK HERE FOR:

PART 1

---

After such an exhausting day, she just wanted to take a well deserved bath to scrub off the dirt and sweat, while Iggy kept looking left and right, worrying that someone might see her.

She obviously didn’t want to stink like some corn chip man, so she jumped into the water, letting the cool feeling sooth her sore muscles, telling Iggy to stand watch if he’s so worried, as he wouldn’t stop pestering her.

“Yeah, yeah. Stand watch, Iggy, while I blow our secret with my stupid girly habits! Pffft! Hygiene!” Iggy farted next to #5 shamelessly.

However, just as he said that, some cheers could be heard from the distance, and a pair of heart patterned briefs were thrown at Iggy’s head, only to notice the 3 idiots throwing themselves in the water.

As Avdol jumped, he made a canon-ball, making it look like a tsunami took place in the lake, as the girl looked at them horrified, using a lily pad to hide her face while silently swimming behind a rock.

“Oh, hey, it’s Fugo!” Polanreff pointed out, making the girl grin awkwardly, taking the lily pad away from her face. “Oh, uh, hi, guys! I didn’t know you were here!” she tried to do a masculine voice. “I was just washing. So now I’m clean, and I’m gonna go. Bye-bye!” she chirped, trying to hide even more behind the rock. “Aww, come on, don’t leave! I know we were jerks to you before, so let’s start over. Hi, I’m Kakyoin.” he shook the girl’s hand, dragging her forwards. “And I’m Avdol.” she heard the other man say as she unconsciously hit her hand on his chest as she tried to take it away from Kakyoin’s grasp. “Hello, Avdol.” she said softly, before covering her face, realising that Polnareff was butt naked on top of a rock. “And I am Polnareff, King of the Rock! And there’s nothin’ you girls cand do about it!” he put his fists on his hips, rocking proudly. “Oh, yeah? Well, I think Fugo and I can take you.” Kakyoin did some silly karate moves. “I really don’t wanna take him anywhere.” she declared, swimming away to the shore while covering her chest. “But Fugo! He challenged us, we have to fight!” Kakyoing gaped at her. “No, we don’t really have to. We could just...Close our eyes and swim around.” she tried to swim closer to the shore, only to have Kakyoin follow. “Awww, come on, don’t be such a gir-...OUCH! Something bit me!” he shrieked as Iggy bit his butt. “Eww, what a nasty flavour...” Iggy spit in disgust. “AHH! WATER MONSTER!!” he gasped, swimming the hell away from there.

She then took advantage of the commotion to whistle for her horse to come and help cover her up as she left to the shore.

“Boy, that was close...” she sighed, putting her towel closer to her. “No, that was vile!” Iggy brushed his teeth with a lot of mint tooth paste, only to start chewing on coffee gums. “You owe me big!”

“I NEVER want to see a naked man again.” she declared as she started squeezing her hair of water, her horse rolling his eyes, agreeing with her.

Only as if on cue, however, the rest of the soldiers started running and cheering naked past her, making her stare in shock and horror at the display, while her horse and Mushu were already dead inside.

“’Ey, don’t look at me, I ain’t bitin’ no more butts.” Iggy groaned, getting away from there.

As they walked back to her tent, they noticed Jotaro and Enyaba arguing, the hag throwing crude, poisonous words at the young captain, completely undeserving, and as soon as he left his tent, trying to cool off his head before Ora Ora-ing the advisor with Star Platinum, she tried to smile at him.

“Heey, I’ll hold her and you punch!...Or not.” she tried to cheer him up, but he only gave her a glance before walking away. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re a great Captain!” she spoke louder, hoping it would help in any way.

For a split second, he stopped and spared her one more glance, before going on his way, making the girl smile softly.

“Heey, I saw that!” Iggy looked at her with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Huh? Saw what?” she blinked, looking at him with confusion. “You like him, don’t you?” he asked, with a weird smirk. “No, I -” she tried to deny everything, but she was quickly cut off anyway. “Go to your tent!” Iggy scolded, but she could only smile back at where Captain Kujo stood before going to sleep.

Without her knowledge, Iggy and #5 made the masterplan of writing a scroll from the General, informing Enyaba that he needs Jotaro’s troops, and then went to make a dummy out of spare armor and cloth, found a random panda bear and went to deliver the scroll to Enyaba, who was out, taking a bath.

Of course, Iggy had to sass the annoying hag, speaking to her aggressively, while the panda went up into the tree, seemingly “vanishing” altogether.

And so, Enyaba rushed to Jotaro, telling him that they are needed in the front, and the next day they packed everything and made their way to the fight.

“For a long time we've been Marching off to battle” everyone started singing, trying to get their mind off the long road.

“In our thundering herd We feel a lot like cattle” Polnareff sighed, hearing the cows moo in the distance.

“Like the pounding beat Our aching feet aren't Easy to ignore” the rest continued their chant.

“Hey, think of instead A girl worth fighting for” Kakyoin smiled, putting his arm around his 2 friends ”Huh?” Y/N looked at them weirdly. “That's what I said A girl worth fighting for I want her paler than the Moon with eyes that Shine like stars” Kakyoin sang, showing a scroll of a beautiful lady, imagining kissing her.

“My girl will marvel at My strength, adore my Battle scars” Polnareff flexed, imagining as he would boast to his beloved.

“I couldn't care less what she'll Wear or what she looks like It all depends on what She cooks like Beef, pork, chicken, mmm” Avdol wondered, smiling softly.

“Bet the local girls thought You were quite the charmer” Polnareff smirked at Y/N as they passed the river.

“And I'll bet the ladies love A man in armor” Kakyoin flex, his clothes filled with so much water, making him buff like Jotaro, only for him to deflate quickly.

“You can guess what we Have missed the most Since we went off to war” everyone sang happily, watching the women work in the rice fields.

“What do we want?” Kakyoin asked, hyping everyone up.

“A girl worth fighting for” they all chanted, as Y/N realised some girl were batting their eyes at her, making her blush and walk away.

“My girl will think I have no faults” Polnareff flexed once again.

“That I'm a major find” Avdol grinned as they all got closer to Y/N, waiting for her verse.

“How 'bout a girl who's got a brain Who always speaks her mind?” she tried, but they quickly stuck their tongues out.

“Neaaaaaah!” they laughed, continuing their own verses.

“My manly ways and turn of Phrase are sure to thrill her” Kakyoin fixed his hair with a charming smile.

“He thinks he's such a lady killer” Polnareff nudged the girl as he slapped the horse, making the poor red head fall face first into the mud.

“I've a man back home who's Unlike any other And that’s my son!” Enyaba boasted, thinking about her son.

“Yet the only boy who'd Love her is her son.” Polnareff mocked the hag, earning lots of chuckles.

“But when we come home In victory they'll line up At the door” they all chanted as the 3 started making very beautiful snow-women.

“What do we want?” Kakyoin asked once again, as everyone was grinning and cheering.

“A girl worth fighting for” they all sang simoultaneously “Wish that I had” Kakyoin enticed everyone for the last time.

“A girl worth fighting for A girl worth fighting” everyone was cheerful, until they stopped in their tracks, realising that the whole village was burnt to the ground and everyone, including women and children, were dead.

Everyone was dead silent as they tried to search for survivors, but the only thing they found was a little puppet that belonged to a little girl, and General Kujo’s helmet, which only made them realise the massacre that took place, slaying his father.

Everyone gave Captain Kujo his space to mourn in silence, watching him use his father’s sword as a grave, putting his helmet on.

“I’m sorry...” the girl made her way to the Captain, resting her hand on his shoulder, offering her condoleances.

Composing himself, he gave her an appreciative nod before going to his horse, mounting and informing everyone that the Huns were moving quickly and that they were the Emperor’s only hope, so they had to go through the pass.

Before she left, she put the little doll to the General’s grave, offering a small prayer, then rushing to catch up with everyone, despite the exhausting snow.

On their way, as Y/N was guiding her horse along the way, a firework was sent through the carriage, and upon further inspection, Iggy had to blame #5 for his own mistake.

“What happened?!” Jotaro galloped to her, staring with a mix of emotions. “Uhmmm...” she was trying to explain how a dog lit a firework, but she had no time to answer. “You just gave away our position!” he yelled at her, and as if on cue, he got shot by an arrow that he was too slow to realise to stop with his Stand, and he fell off. “GET OUT OF RANGE!” he ordered everyone.

As they all tried to run away to cover, more and more fire-lit arrows were sent their way, one of them hitting the carriage, which made the poor horse jump around in fright, and it took 7 people to save the cannons and get the horse away from it, as Y/N jumped on it, riding away, only for the carriage to explode, making the horse and the girl fall over.

“Oh, sure, save the horse, not me. Thanks.” Iggy glared at her as he fell down.

She started running to where everyone else was, helping them fire the firework cannons until there were none left, as Polnareff shot it before Jotaro could stop him.

As the smoke cleared, an infinite army of huns were battle-roaring, and all Jotaro could tell his soldiers was to prepare to fight.

Yeah, as if that was going to lead in anything but defeat.

They watched in horror as the army started descending back at them, and as Jotaro was getting everyone ready to fight, Y/N noticed a snowy mountain peak she could use.

Without telling anyone, she started running closer to the middle of the battlefield to aim better, taking out her Stand and shooting a massive fireball at the peak, not caring about how much everyone was shouting.

Thankfully, she managed to hit it just as the blond enemy reached her, but unfortunately, he was quick enough to slice her torso. Jotaro was there too, but it was too late for any battle, as she grabbed his wrist and ran away from there, not wanting to get stuck in the avalanche, but even that, even with them riding on Y/N’s horse, it was no use, the snow was simply much faster than humanely possible.

She could hear Iggy yelling out her name as he snowboarded down the mountain on a shield, but as soon as she noticed a semi-conscious Jotaro was being taken away from her, almost falling down the cliff, she used her Stand to grab him by his armor, pulling him on the horse with her, and also, Iggy and #5 jumped on.

With the failed rope-arrow that was shot by Polnareff, she shot it back at them, thankfully him catching it, as she used her Stand to keep her horse and everyone safely. She could only watch in happiness as Polnareff and Avdol used their own Stands to get them back on the surface, as Kakyoin’s Stand’s tentacles secured them even better, helping to pull them up.

“I knew we could do it! You the man! Well...Sort of.” Iggy cheered in victory, praising the girl.

As they were pulled to safety, they left Jotaro and the girl some air by backing away.

“Yare Yare Daze...Fugo, you are the craziest man I’ve ever met.” Jotaro got into a sitting position, looking sternly at the panting girl. “And for that, I owe you my life. From now on, you have my respect. It’s not often I see someone with a Stand, especially as powerful as yours, or that can be used to do such witty tricks.” Jotaro put his arm on Y/N’s shoulder, praising her gently. “Let’s hear it for Fugo! The bravest of us all!” Kakyoin cheered loudly. “You’re the King of the mountain!” Polnareff put his arms up in the air as everyone chanted and Jotaro helped her to her feet. “Fugo! What’s wrong?!” his eyes widened as the girl cried in pain, putting her hands over her stomach, falling back to the ground. “He’s wounded! Get help!” he ordered, seeing blood seeping through her clothes

He tried to call out her name more, but she fainted on the spot, not able to keep more of her strength.

They quickly put on the medical tent and had her inside, the doctor working on her, and just as she briefly regained consciousness, the physician went outside, whispering something to the captain, while the trio was waiting, almost as burnt, to see if their friend was okay or not.

Shocked at the news, Captain Kujo stormed inside the tent, seeing as she slowly and weakly fluttered her eyes open.

She looked at him with a soft smile as she mustered enough strength to raise, only for the blanket to fall off and reveal her bandaged chest.

Poor Y/N realised she was screwed in that instant.

“I can explain!” she tried to reason, but just then, Enyaba also burst into the tent. “So it’s true!” she screeched like a banshee. “Jotaro, wait, please-” she tried to call out and explain, only for the hag to drag her out of the tent. “I knew there was something wrong with you! A woman!” she took off Y/N’s hair from the bun, making everyone gasp as the hag threw her on the snow. “Treacherous snake!” she kept spewing venom at the girl. “My name is Y/N! I did it to save my father. I never had any ill-intentions, I promise!” she pleaded to Jotaro, but the hag kept shrieking. “HIGH TREASON!!!” she echoed through the mountain. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far! I just didn’t want my injured father to have to die!” she begged for understanding. “ULTIMATE DISHONOUR!” she continued screaming around, annoying the brunet man. “It was the only way, please believe me! I couldn’t send my little brother, he’s barely 5 years old! And my father can’t even walk without a cane!” she almost started crying on the ground.

Jotaro looked at the girl on the ground, looking at him with pleading eyes as she kept the blanket around her, and he made a decision. He strutted to her horse, taking her sword and walked to her, while someone had to restrain her panicked horse and Enyaba had to scold her 3 friends that were freaking out and trying to plead for her life.

Seeing the look in his gorgeous aquamarine eyes, she realised the had no life ahead of her, so she hung her head down, awaiting decapitation... Only to see her sword in front of her.

“Yare Yare...You put me in a horrible situation. A life for a life. My debt is repaid.” was the only thing Jotaro could say as he turned his back to her, unable to look at her pitiful form, commanding his troops to walk away, leaving her there, alone and wounded. “But captain-” Enyaba gaped at his decision, only for the man to take her by the neck of her robes, glaring at her harshly. “I said. Move. Out.” he growled, throwing her away harshly.

All the girl could do as she watched everyone turn her back to her, was to get dressed and spend the harsh night with her companions, as she was wallowing in self pity, hatred, disappointment and a gazillion of other emotions.

“I should have never left home...” she sighed, looking with dead eyes in front of her. “Hey, come on, don’t say that. You went to save your father’s life. Who knew you’d end up shamin’ him and disgracing your ancestors and losin’ all your friends? You know, you just gotta...You gotta learn to let these things go.” Iggy tried to explain, while also close to tears. “Fuck the ancestors and all that honour shit...Also...Maybe...Maybe I didn’t even go for my father. Maybe that was just an excuse. Maybe all I really wanted was to prove that I could do things right...So when I looked in the mirror, I’d see someone worthwhile....But I was wrong. I see nothing.” the girl shed a tear, throwing away her helmet and huddling closer to her blanket.

Poor Iggy tried to make her feel better by joking around, saying the helmet wasn’t clean and that’s why she didn’t see what she desired, but she couldn’t even look at him, because of the shame.

“Okay, maybe we’re both frauds. The ancestors didn’t send me, they don’t even like me.” Iggy sighed, looking annoyed at her. “That makes both of us.” she managed to whisper. “I mean, you risked your life to help people you love. I risked your life to help myself. At least you had good intentions.” Iggy tried to console her, earning a little smile. “Huh?! What do you mean you’re not lucky?! You LIED to me?!” Iggy gaped at #5 who was crying on the helmet. “And what are you, a sheep?!” he yelled at the horse in frustration. “I’ll have to face my father sooner or later...Let’s just go home.” she sighed, looking down. “Yeah...This ain’t gonna be pretty.” he agreed with a self-deprecating groan. “But don’t you worry, okay? Things will work out. We started this thing together, and that’s how we’ll finish it. I promise.” he hugged the girl with a wholesome grin. “Thank you, Iggy. I needed that.” she smiled, kissing the top of his head.

As Y/N was readying her horse to go home, she heard a loud roar, and upon further inspection, she saw the Hun leader, Dio Brando, was still alive, along with some of his trusted men, making their way to the Palace.

She quickly jumped on the horse, ready to alert everyone, before Iggy stopped her by clearing his throat.

“Home is THAT way.” he pointed with his paw in the opposite direction. “I have to do something!” she reasoned sternly. “Did you see those Huns?! They popped out of the snow! Like daisies!” Iggy yelled at her to get her shit together. “Are we in this together or not?” she asked for the last time. “Well, let’s go kick some Hunny buns!” he smirked, along with #5, as they both jumped on her horse and made their way to the palace.

At the Palace, there was a huge festival, to celebrate the Heroes of China who managed to defeat the Huns, Captain Jotaro being in front of everyone.

However, the girl galloping there earned quite a few gasps from her peers.

“Jotaro!” she called out, riding besides him. “Y/N?” his eyes widened at the sight of her. “The Huns are alive! They’re in the city!” she warned him quickly. “You don’t belong here, Y/N. Go home.” he grunted, riding further ahead. “It doesn’t matter, I’m here to warn you! I saw them in the mountains, you have to believe me!” she, once again, tried to reason with him. “Why should I?” he glared at her, speaking in a low tone. “Why else would I come back?!” she asked, frowning at him as she blocked his horse with her own. “You said you’d respect and trust Fugo, so why is Y/N any different? You think she’d lie about something as grave as the Huns?!” but the man looked away from her, galloping further. “Keep your eyes open. I know they are here.” she warned her friends as she rode away from there, thinking up a plan to alert someone who would believe her.

In the middle of the plaza, where the Emperor’s stairs were, everyone was gathered, watching the fireworks and cheering. She saw Jotaro and the others making their way in front of Emperor Joestar and as she tried to warn random citizens, she realised that, once again, her words had no meaning, as she was a mere woman.

Emperor Joseph waited until the drums fell silent, so he could speak for everyone present.

“My children, Heaven smiles down upon the Middle Kingdom! China will sleep safely tonight thanks to our brave warriors.” he spoke as everyone started cheering loudly. “Your Majesty, I present to you the sword of Dio Brando.” Jotaro bowed in front of the elderly man, showing him the sword of his enemy. “I know what this means to you, Captain Kujo. Your father would have been very proud.” however, just as he was going to get the sword, the nasty hawk, Pet Shop, snatched it away with a loud screech, making everyone gasp in shock.

Up, on the room, disguised as one of the dragons, the sword was given to Dio Brando. As if on cue, the huge red dragon was torn apart, many more huns getting out of there, fighting the soldiers, while 2 of them stole the Emperor away, and many others guarded the inside of the palace.

Only Dio’s taunting laugh could be heard everywhere.

Jotaro and his soldiers tried to use a stone statue as a ram and open the doors, but it was to no avail. As soon as she realised they were wasting time, she ran up to them, whistled for their attention, telling them that she has a much better idea and to follow her.

Of course, her 3 friends shrugged at each other, and with large smiles, they rushed after her, letting only Jotaro the Fool bother with the impossible stone statue.

She took away their armors and gave them women clothing, hairstyles and make ups, and so, they all used their sashes as whips, looking at each other confidently, mischievous glints in their eyes, ready to take action...

And hopefully keep the fruits replacing their boobs on their chest, unlike Kakyoin’s moving apple.

They used their sashes to climb up the pillar, just like they did before with the weights, grinning at each other, only for her to feel a tap on her shoulder as she was tying of her sash on the pillar -

It was Jotaro, looking at her with a confident smile, using his cape to replicate what she was doing, obviously proud with her witty plan.

The 4 of them looked with glee at their captain as they started climbing up the pillar with ease, ready to take down the huns and save the Emperor.

As they reached the top, they could see 2 huns looking alike guarding the balcony where the Emperor was held captive.

“Okay, here we are. Any questions?” she asked them in a quiet voice. “Does this dress make me look fat?” Polnareff asked, fixing his dress. “Yes.” Kakyoin chuckled, only to earn a slap.

And so, Y/N and the 3 ‘women’ started walking towards the huns, giggling and looking at each other.

“WHO’S THERE?!” one of the brothers asked loudly. “Concubines.” the other one replied with a disgusted look. “Ugly concubines.” he rolled his eyes, lowering his weapon. “Awww, he’s so cute!” the girls giggled behind the fan as they got in front of the brothers, and while they managed to charm one of them, Kakyoin’s half-eaten apple- boob fell from his robes, and for some reason, Pet Shop noticed Jotaro hiding and facepalming at the scene as well.

Thankfully enough, the stupid Hawk could do no further damage as Iggy started biting and munching on it, making it looked like a featherless chicken as it tried to fleed the scene in embarrassment.

The charmed older brother bent down to pick her apple, only for everyone to take out their boob-fruits. Avdol his his watermelons on their heads, making them hit each other, Kakyoin shoved the un-bitten apple in Sett’s mouth, hitting his legs, making him fall to his knees as he hit him with a well aimed head hit, while Polnareff was getting rid off Vanilla Ice and Y/N was fighting Anubis, using the bow to strangle him, yelling out for Jotaro to go ahead and rescue the Emperor, as he was the only one powerful enough to do so, nobody knowing Dio’s Stand powers.

---

Up there, Dio looked at the elder Emperor, hanging upside down, saying a mocking “Boo!” as he jumped down on the railing, looking down at him with a mocking grin as he ordered the 2 D’Arby brothers to guard the doors.

“Your walls and armies have fallen and now it’s your turn. Bow to me, Joseph Joestar!” Dio ordered loudly. “Sorry, Dio, but I have some sad news for you. Your next line will be : I tire of your arrogance, you old jeezer! I said BOW TO ME!...Am I correct?” Joseph smirked, feeling proud for using his younger self’s gimmiks. “I tire of your arrogance, you old jeezer! I said BOW TO ME!....Huh?! What the-” Dio sneered in rage, realising that he fell into the old man’s trap and so, he put his sword to the Emperor’s chin, only for him not to flinch. “No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it. Or so my grandfather Jonathan, the previous Emperor, said.” he shrugged, feeling confident. “Then you will kneel in pieces!” he was ready to to stab the man, only to have Jotaro use Star Platinum to throw open the doors and punch the enemy away from the Emperor.

Taking out The World, Dio punched Jotaro out of the balcony, but he was quick to grab the pillar and rotated well enough to jump and punch him with his own fists, straddling him. In retaliation, Dio punched him back, getting on top, and so, they wrestled for dominance back and forth.

While Jotaro was trying to defeat the enemy, Y/N told Avdol to rescue the Emperor and get him to safety, while she tried to think of a way to aid her Captain.

She showed her friends the rope with paper lanterns, and apologising, Avdol used his Stand to pick up the Emperor and slid down the rope using his sash, while Dio roared in anger, giving Kakyoin and Polnareff enough time to slide down the rope as well.

“THE WORLD!” Dio yelled, and the next thing anyone knew was that Jotaro was on the ground, bleeding, and nobody had any idea how that happened. “Y/N, come on, hurry!” Polnareff kept yelling at her, but she couldn’t let the man she grew so fond of die by the hands of the enemy.

As she saw Dio approaching, she quickly picked up Dio’s discarded sword and cut the rope, giving Dio no chance to get closer to the Emperor. Everyone was cheering for that success, while Dio could only stare in shock and horror at the infinite crowd, not able to spot the Emperor no matter how hard he tried.

“You! You took away my victory!” Dio roared as he used the hilt of his sword to punch Jotaro again, picking him up by the front of his armor, ready to stab him in the heart. “NO!” Y/N yelled to take away his attention, as she took out her Stand, burning his cape. “I did!” she declared, looking at him sternly as she pulled her hair up to show that her and Fugo were the same person. “The soldier from the mountains. Oh, so it looks like you’re finally approaching me!” Dio gasped in complete disdain seeing the person in front of him, and so, he threw Jotaro away and started chasing after her, as she left the balcony, locking the door.

Of course, it was to no avail, as his Stand was powerful enough to punch through the door, and so, she had to run even more while thinking of some new scheme.

“So, what’s the plan?!” Iggy managed to catch up to her, and as soon as he realised she had no idea what she was doing, he gasped in horror. “YOU HAVE NO PLAN?!” “Hey, I’m making this up as I...Go! Iggy!” she grinned at her companion as he used his Stand to fly himself and #5 to the other tower in front of him.

Just as he got away, Dio jumped next to her, punching away pillars, even the one that she managed to climb on, which in turn, broke through the wall, and she almost fell, were it not for her Stand helping her back up on the pillar.

The only thing she could do was jump and grab on one of the wooden ornaments of the roof, climbing up on it, while waiting for Iggy to fire away the fireworks.

She managed to get up on the top beam of the roof, and looked in the horizon, picturing her plan unfold, only for Dio to punch through the roof behind her, making her squeal in shock and walk away from him.

She tapped herself for any weapons, realising that she couldn’t rely much on her Stand, since it wasn’t as powerful as Jotaro’s or Dio’s, but the only thing she found was her fan.

Jackpot!

“It looks like you’re out of clever ideas.” Dio smirked down at her mockingly, as he stabbed through her fun.

Shockingly enough for him, she closed the fan and twisted it away, managing to easily disarm him and get his sword, getting in a battle stance.

“Not quite! Ready, Iggy?” she yelled, noticing her companion in the far back of the roof, a huge firework roped to his back. “I AM READY, BABY! LIGHT ME UP!” he cackled as the girl used her Stand to fire up the firework. “Bold of you to assume I can be defeated! THE WO-” he tried to say, but the girl started punching him, using his sword to stab his cape through the roof, rendering him unable to move, as the firework blew him away into the Firework tower.

The last thing echoeing throughout all China, that night, was a high-pitched “WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY” left by Dio Brando, the now defeated Hun Leader.

And then he died.

“Get off the roof! Get off the roof! GET OFF THE ROOF!” she kept yelling to herself, running away, as she was thrown off the roof by the explosion, and Iggy managed to get to her just in time, getting her down on the ground to safety.

Well, not quite...

The Sand for his Stand quickly got used, and he dropped her, making her fall on Jotaro, and they both hit the ground, soon followed by Dio’s sword and Iggy with #5 who kept crying.

“DID YOU SEE HIS DUMB FACE?! Hahahaha! You, #5, are one lucky bullet!” Iggy grinned, chewing on some well deserve coffee gum.

And so, the sky was filled with fireworks of thousands of shades and colours, everyone cheering for their greatest enemy’s defeat.

“That was a deliberate attempt on my life! WHERE is she?! Now she’s done it! WHAT A MESS! STAND ASIDE! THAT creature is NOT worth protecting!” Enyaba screeched in rage, her hair barely escaping being completely burnt, as she walked down the stairs, hitting Jotaro with her cane, all while her friends and the captain were glaring at her. “She’s a hero.” Jotaro glared at the hypocritical old woman. “‘Tis a lying snake!” she retorted in disgust. “She’ll never be wroth ANYTHING!” she grinned at him condescendingly. “Listen, you fucking hag-” he picked her up, ready to use Star Platinum on her, but the Emperor’s voice boomed as he also descended down the stairs, looking sternly at everyone. “That is enough!” he spoke, catching everyone’s attention. “Your Majesty, I can explain-” Jotaro wanted to protect the girl, at least this time, but the Emperor raised his hand for him to be silent and for everyone to step away, allowing the girl to step forward and bow down lowly in front of the Joestar. “I’ve heard a great deal about you, Y/N. You stole your father’s armor, ran away from home, impersonated a soldier, deceived your commanding officer, dishonoured the Chinese army, destroyed my palace...And!” he kept trailing on, making everyone cringe at everything he was saying, fearing for the girl who could only look down in shame and guilt. “And...You have saved us all.” he spoke in a much gentler voice now, patting the girl’s head, as he, shockingly, bowed to her, making the hag follow his action, but bowing on the ground, followed by her friends, Jotaro, who tipped his hat at her, before kneeling in front of her...

And the whole China bowing down on the ground for her.

“Enyaba?” Joseph called out to his advisor. “Yes, Emperor?” she quickly asked. “See to it that this woman is made a member of my council.” Joseph smiled gently at the girl, making the hag gape at his orders.

“Member...WHAT?! B-But-...?! There are no council positions open, Your Majesty!” she stammered over her words, feeling sweat go down her forehead. “Very well. You can have her job. After all, she is the...To quote her, ‘Treacherous Snake’ that sold valuable information to Dio Brando.” he chuckled, making us all gasp. “Wh-Wh-WHAT?! H-How could you p-possibly insinuate s-something like th-that?!” Enyaba stuttered, trying to say something. “My spies found enough proof. And, to go even further, your next line is going to be : That wretched girl planned it all, just to steal my position!” Joseph smirked, awaiting the result. “THAT WRETCHED GIRL PLANNED IT ALL, JUST TO STEAL MY POSITION!” she kept hitting aimlessly with her cane, only to stop abruptly as 2 guards picked her up. “Throw her in jail, for now. We will away public execution, a fate fit for a traitor and a liar. Until then, we should celebrate our true heroine.” the Joestar declared as his lackeys removed the hag from that place. “With all due respect, Your Excellency, I think I’ve been away from home long enough.” she smiled up at him with thankfulnes. “Then, take this.” he took off his star necklace and put it around her neck. “So your family will know what you have done for me...And, this.” he handed her the sword. “So the world will know what you have done for China.” hearing those words, she couldn’t help herself and she threw her arms around the unexpecting man, who only laughed mirthfully, patting her back in amusement.

After she was done hugging the Emperor, she went for a group hug with her lovely 2 friends who stood by her all the time and still looked as gorgeous as any ugly concubine would.

When it came to walking in front of Jotaro, however, the man was looking at her, trying to find out what to say.

“Yare Yare Daze...You...You fight good.” he patted her shoulder awkwardly, looking away, not without catching a glimpse at the girl’s disappointed face. “Oh...Uh, thank you, I guess.” and walked away, getting up on the horse. “Come on, darling, let’s go home.” she patted her horse as they descended the stairs, taking in all China’s cheers.

As soon as they couldn’t see her anymore, the Emperor stepped next to his Captain, clearing his throat.

“The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.” he tried to sound wise and all, but Jotaro only looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m saying, go get her, already! You don’t meet a girl like that every dynasty!” he advised, pushing him to go after her, as he only chuckled, put on his Emperor hat and left the place.

---

It took a while for her to return home, but the first thing she saw was her father, sitting on the same stone bench under the Cherry Blossom, looking at the pond, waiting for her return, as the flower petals kept swaying in the wind, reminding him of his daughter.

She softly stepped in front of him, making him gasp out her name in disbelief, almost fearing that he was hallucinating or seeing ghosts.

“Papa, I brought you the sword of Dio Brando.” she quickly kneeled on the ground in front of him, passing him the enemy’s sword. “And the crest of the Emperor!” she took off the necklace, giving that one to him as well. “They are gifts, to honour our family.” she tried to explain, unable to read her father’s expression.

As she hung her head, Abbacchio could only shed a few tears, throwing away the gifts and falling to the ground, hugging his daughter tightly to his chest.

“Silly girl, to hell with honour and whatever, it was all my fault that you went to war, only for my sake and my stupid words, nailed into my brain. The greatest gift and honour is having you as my daughter, Y/N.” he declared, caressing her cheeks, wiping away her tears, yet unable to do so for himself, before putting her in yet another loving hug. “I missed you so much, you have no idea.” he kept stroking her hair, trying to sooth her, as they both let all their emotions flow with no blockage. “I missed you too, papa...So much...” she ushered, hugging him tightly, not realising that the other family members came as well.

As Bruno could only sigh, feeling his heart finally at peace, seeing his daughter and his husband finally reunited, safe, getting along, and happy, the same couldn’t be said about the grandpa, who scoffed in annoyance.

“Great! She brings home a sword, veeery useful. If you ask me, she should’ve brought home a man!” Mista looked at the man next to him in annoyance, only to be interrupted by a rough voice.

“Excuse me, that Y/N live here?” he asked, holding the helmet to his chest.

The 2 men could only stare in shock at the man who magically appeared in front of them, able to only point at the girl and her father who were embracing each other in the garden.

“WHOO! Sign me up for the next war!” Mista grinned, not being able to peel his eyes away from the Captain.“Well, I suppose the Acenstors are finally doing their job.” Mista blinked, almost as if struck by lightning. “Now I have to start wedding preparations! Pistols, get ready for a nice feast!” he grinned from ear to ear, getting a hold of Bruno’s sleeves. “Come on, give them intimacy! Let’s go!” he dragged the younger man away from there.

Jotaro walked in front of Leone, nodding respectfully and tipping the front of his hat in front of him, trying to figure out what to say.

“Yare Yare, to think I’d actually be doing something like this...Ahem. Honourable Abbacchio Leone...Uhmm...Ah, Y/N.” he noticed the girl peeking stepping from behind her father’s tall figure. “You...Forgot you helmet.” he tried to hand her the helmet, only to stop mid-way, giving it to her father. “Well, I suppose it’s actually your helmet, isn’t it?” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Go get him, girl.” Leone whispered in her ear, patting her hair, nodding at her to take the reigns in her hands.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” she stepped in front of him, taking the helmet in her hands, smiling up at him. “Would you like to stay forever?!” Mista’s voice echoed throught he garden, making them hum in amusement as Bruno’s voice followed, scolding the man for being a hypocrite and spying on them. “Dinner would be great.” he smiled down at her with a tender smile that he never offered anyone but his mother. “Great.” the girl grinned at him, taking him by the neck of his armor and getting him to her level, kissing him tenderly. “Nice, very nice. But I think I liked the sight from back at the Palace...If you catch my drift.” the girl smirked mischievously, winking at him. “Yare Yare, what a troublesome woman.” he chuckled, putting his hands on her face and pulling her in another, even more tender kiss.

What they didn’t know what that the party already began at the shrine, as Iggy hit the gong for all the Zeppeli, Speedwagon and whatever other ancestors they had to join, all while annoying the hell out of Kars.

Somehow, Iggy hit himself enough to bounce back and find himself on the shrine stairs, and soon, Narancia’s childish giggles could be heard as he started running around him, and Y/N bent down to kiss the top of his head, thanking him for everything he’s done for her.

Of course, the chickens followed Narancia to the shrine.

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PART 1

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