#(also 100% the 'you gave gifts to the others but just left me to rot' aspect of it is sure something to consider) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovetorn · 4 years ago

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in chains for you [dream]

Dream x Fem!Reader Criminals!AU

Summary: The Dream Team is an underground crime group that works for Techno Industries. But what happens when one of their most valuable members is taken for ransom by their enemy, Schlatt?

Warnings: Swearing & mean insults :(, kidnapping, death, violence, uhhh nothing else? message me if you see anything else!

Word Count: 8.1k+

A/N: I’m so sorry for any mistakes/plot holes, my adhd said no❤️ when i was editing :(

Note: Please remember these are all characters! Since I do not know any of these people in real life, I have created all aspects of their lives, personalities etc. and apologise for any OOC moments. I portrayed Schlatt as the villain purely from his role play in the Dream SMP, obviously, I do not believe him to be like this irl in any way. He is also written as much older than the Dream Team to enhance the villain-like characteristics. Remember, this is just fiction! Thanks!

Night had fallen over California, and the icy breeze from the South blew through the city of Beverly Hills. The lights from several luxury hotels and displays lit up the streets and exposed the city. It was more alive than half the people that resided there. Here, people only cared about their money and their assets; barely any room left for emotions towards others that didn’t benefit them.

“Hurry the fuck up, Sapnap!”

The gravelly sound of Dream shouting prompted Y/n to run faster. Tensions were high as three criminals rushed to the dark SUV that sat running outside of the tall building. They clutched black duffle bags in both hands when the sound of familiar sirens cried a few blocks away.

Unlocking the car, George threw open the back car door and launched his duffle bags onto the car seats before hopping in. Dream rounded the car and opened the door to the driver’s seat, Y/n doing the same for the passenger’s side. And whilst they were shoving the bags in, Sapnap came running out of the building, another duffle bag in his hand and a briefcase in the other. The ends of his white bandana flew around in the wind behind him as he missed a dip in the floor.

“What the fuck has he got now? We’ve gotta go!” George exclaimed, hurrying the boy by waving his hand. Dream put the car in drive as Sapnap slammed the door, “Go, go, go!”

The car squealed while Dream pulled off of the curb, the wheels screeching against the tar as he pressed his foot heavily on the accelerator. 40, 50, 70, 100, 130mph. The speedometer jumped by 10s and then by 40s as the car barrelled down the long strip of road, the wailings of sirens fading behind them.

George, Y/n and Sapnap were laughing as they took their masks off. The sound pissed Dream off as he gripped the steering wheel harder; why is nobody taking this seriously?

Ripping his white mask off his face and throwing it into his lap, Dream looked at Sapnap through the rearview mirror, “Why did you take so long? That could’ve fucked our whole plan!”

“Jeez, chill out.”

Dream shot him a glare through the mirror as Sapnap put his hand up, “Schlatt said he had a briefcase full of Chick-Fil-A gift cards, so I grabbed the first one I saw.”

George lolled his head to the side, mouth agape as he stared at him in disbelief. “Are you shitting me?”

Sapnap shook his head, resting the case on his thighs and popping open the clasps.

“Fuck yeah!” He cheered, turning the case around to show the rest of the car the bundles of hundreds of red and white cards that laid on a sheet of red velvet. Sapnap’s eyes remained as wide as saucers the entire time he tilted the case at different angles to ensure everybody saw.

Y/n turned around in her seat to face the boys in the back and giggled.

“Can I have one?” She asked, holding her hands up in a praying gesture. Sapnap laughed and nodded, “I’ve got enough for a whole country! And anything for you, Y/n.” Y/n smiled at him, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ before turning back around to face the road that was gone as quick as it came.

The deep sigh that came from Dream in the driver’s seat caught the attention of everybody in the car. Sapnap rolled his eyes and shut the case. “Calm down, green boy. She’s all yours.”

Arriving at the motel George had found, the four lugged the black duffle bags in the small room. Locking the room door, Dream spun around to see everybody sitting on one of the single beds.

He eyed the black duffle bags in the corner with a frown, each one full to the brim with thousands of 100 dollar bills that they had to transfer back to base. George cleared his throat when he saw his friend looking at the bags and raised his eyebrows, “Dream?” The man turned at the sound of his name and nodded once. He had an odd feeling in his stomach but decided to ignore it and face the problem at hand first before anything else.

Dream sighed, “We did good tonight,” The three on the bed hollering softly, fist-bumping each other before Dream continued.

“But...” Y/n, George and Sapnap all groaned, throwing their heads back at the oncoming disappointment that Dream was going to throw on them.

“Sapnap, what the fuck was that? You can’t go off on your own tangents during a plan this big! What would’ve happened if—”

Sapnap’s eyes widened when he realised Dream’s rage was aimed towards him. “Dream! It’s okay, bro. I’m right here, we’re all alive—”

“Don’t talk back to me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Y/n avoided Dream’s gaze when it landed on her. She didn’t want him asking her to back him up; not tonight.

“Anyway, I hope you all know what comes next.” The three nodded, heads down and eyes trained on the worn carpet. Sapnap and George stood up and went to different sides of the room, George to the bathroom and Sapnap to the desk where he pulled out his iPod and earphones.

Dream watched as Y/n lifted her head back up, meeting his gaze. She gave him a soft smile and patted the space on the bed next to her. Dream ran a hand through his tangled blonde hair and walked over to her, sitting where her hand once was.

“You okay?” She asked softly, placing her hand over his that sat in his lap. Dream nodded before huffing. “I just don’t know how successful this plan actually is. Something’s off.” He whispered, grabbing her hand. Y/n leaned forward to try and meet his green eyes; the ones that made her weak at the knees when he looked at her a certain way. But he didn’t need to know that considering they were just friends.

“We did good today, look! We’re here, alive and well. And if something’s bothering you, just know that I’ll always be here to help you. Now, I need the bathroom.” She smiled, squeezing his hand before standing up.

“George? When are you done?” She yelled at the bathroom door. Dream tilted his head to the side as he admired her, what would he do without her?

“Soon! Stop being annoying!”

It had reached a point in the night where Dream couldn’t sleep. The single bed he laid in was uncomfortable, and the nagging feeling of doubt kept him awake. Something was wrong.

He looked over a Y/n who laid in the other bed across from him. His top priority was to keep her safe; he had to. His eyes then travelled to his two other best friends—Sapnap in the desk chair and George on the brown couch.

He smiled softly. Dream rarely got emotional, but seeing his friends and partners in crime—literally—so vulnerable, had his mind plagued with vicious scenarios that brought tears to his alarmingly vacant eyes.

They weren’t always void, but seeing death as he did, had pushed the soul of nature out of his once striking eyes. He thought they looked dull now, matching the rest of his face, but Y/n always told him they were the prettiest she’d ever seen. He’d always flush when she said that which always elicited a poke in the ribs and a teasing comment from her.

Dream forgot how long he’d been lying there, his mind drifting in and out of sleeping until a high-pitched squeak came from the main door. He reached for his knife that held a place under the pillow and sat up, holding his knife and facing the door.

On the floor next to the door, sat an ominous black envelope. Dream chewed the inside of his lip, his heart beating rapidly with panic. How did they find them?

—

“How the fuck did they find us?” George asked, his palms sweaty as he held the letter in his hands. The gold foiling around the letters was both alluring and terrifying.

Palm Casino. Wednesday Night. 12am. Be there, or face death.

Dream had rolled his eyes when he read the letter for the first time; Schlatt was so dramatic. And although fear and doubt had set in his stomach, he didn’t let his friends know.

How did they find them? They had been careful with the robbery, getting everything they needed without leaving a trace, nothing out of place, except for—

Dream shoved his partners out of the way and leaned down to pick up the briefcase with the Chic-Fil-A gift cards. Sapnap went to interject, primarily to save his prized possession when Y/n grabbed his elbow and shook her head when he turned to her.

Dream opened it then turned it upside down, emptying the cards onto the rotting carpet.

“Dream—”

“Shut up.” He then continued to rip the velvet from the inside of the case to reveal a small box with a red flashing light. Sapnap stopped his wriggling and stood staring at the device.

“This is your fault, you dipshit.”

Sapnap was silent. Y/n softened her grip to rub his elbow comfortingly instead, the action making Dream narrow his gaze. The girl rolled her eyes and spoke up, “How was he supposed to know it was in there, Dream? You can’t blame him for this at all.”

Dream shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor before huffing and scrunching his nose in a disgusted manner.

Midnight had arrived quickly, like a thief in the dark, and the crescent moon hung high in the sky. A light breeze swept into the city, making the palm trees sway in the delicate moonlight as a black SUV pulled up to the Palm Casino.

“Okay, here we go. I want you all on your best behaviour,” Dream joked. And as his mask only hid half of his face, a lopsided grin graced his face as he popped the door open. Y/n knew that smile; it was one that was begging for chaos, but she knew it was just a deflection from his real emotions.

Walking to the entrance, Y/n reached up and placed her hand on Dream’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Dream let out a laugh, “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

The boys sported black on black suits with matching Rolex watches, the gold of the timepieces shining in the low light. The only differences between them being Dream’s smiley mask, Sapnap’s white bandana in his hair, and George’s white glasses upon the top of his head. Y/n, on the other hand, wore a fitting dress with gold jewellery. She would’ve worn anything else, but considering the situation, she complied.

As the waitress walked them over to the poker table, Y/n caught Dream’s hand in her own, squeezing it once before letting go. She knew he was worried and the action in itself was enough to calm Dream’s nerves for the time being, but as soon as he made eye contact with Schlatt, it all went away.

“Boys! How are we doing?” The man yelled, throwing his arms up with a smile on his face. Dream nodded once and sat down at the table, Sapnap and George following. Y/n went to sit beside Sapnap but was cut off by Schlatt who took it upon himself to police the members at said table.

“I’m sorry, gorgeous. I’m afraid this game is only for the men.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile and clasped his hands on the table. Y/n narrowed her gaze at him before rolling her eyes and moving to stand behind Dream.

Schlatt then stood and excused himself from the table, making George throw Dream a confused look before the man spoke up. He walked towards another room, guarded by velvet ropes, but not before shouting, “Let the games begin!”

—

Dream sat observing the last man in the game next to himself, ensuring he wouldn’t lose, not that he ever did. He had learnt from his father early on to read the expressions of the players around him and how to benefit from the folds and raises. People were shocked when they found out his age, bewildered that such a young man could earn numbers like that.

Dream stared narrowly at the man; his eyebrows raised as he wore a sly smirk. The man in front of him was profusely sweating, his hand reaching to grasp a tissue from his pocket as the last community card was placed down. The surrounding men groaned; their expressions irritable as the Dream Team gained another win. Dream threw the cards onto the Poker table and stood up, offering his hand to the gentleman. He reluctantly accepted then hurried out of the room, four of his acquaintances following.

Y/n watched as Dream swapped seats with Sapnap, allowing him his turn at the game. She then moved and leaned down to Dream’s ear, “This is bullshit, where’s Schlatt gone?”

Dream shook his head and shrugged quickly, “Fuck knows.”

“Let’s go, Sapnap,” A man they recognised as Fletcher spoke, sitting down in front of the young man as his buddies filed around the table to take their seats. Sapnap didn’t talk, he only glanced back at Dream who tilted his head, holding his forefinger up to indicate this would be their last round.

Once Sapnap had collected his two starting cards, the game began. Dream watched as each of the men were eliminated through folds and how they apologised to Fletcher for letting him down. The man brushed them off, telling them to “watch how it’s done”. Dream, Sapnap and George stifled a laugh as they watched the second last man fold. Behind them, Y/n grew impatient and began mumbling to herself about how ridiculous it was.

“Excuse me? Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a round? Get the fuck outta here.” Fletcher said, his voice harsh as Y/n’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. Dream went to interject before the man spoke again.

“A scotch on the rocks.” He then said.

“I’m not a waitress.” Y/n’s voice was monotone while the man waved her away. Y/n scoffed before she moved towards him. Dream’s hand flew out to catch her wrist, and Y/n rolled her eyes. As angry as Dream was, he wasn’t going to start something with Schlatt’s men before the meeting actually started. Sapnap didn’t pay any attention to the conversations around him, focusing only on winning.

Fletcher chuckled, holding his cards close to his chest, “you dumb kid”. Sapnap’s facial expression went from serious to amused, watching as the dealer placed down the final community card. Sapnap’s eyes flickered to Fletcher’s grey ones as he slammed his cards down on the table. Sapnap then reached to gather his winnings in chips, earning pats on the back from George and a gentle laugh and fist-bump from Dream.

Fletcher sat in disbelief; he was sure he would win this one. Sapnap stood up and embraced George in a hug before moving to Dream as Fletcher circled around the table.

“You cheating bastard!” Sapnap held his hands up in defence, clueless as to why this man was coming at him.

“No cheating here, Fletch, just plain luck,” He grinned, clearly not fearful of him.

“Dude just take the loss and move on, it’s not that deep,” Y/n said, catching the attention of Fletcher again.

“Not now, you whore. The men are talking,” Fletcher glowered, looking intimidatingly down at the girl.

Y/n, however, wasn’t fazed by his words, “Look, it’s not his fault that you lost. I guess you just suck at Poker.” Fletcher’s face went bright red, and Y/n swore she saw steam coming out of his ears. Her eyes widened as she took a step back slowly. George pushed her behind him despite her protests of being able to handle herself.

“Come on Fletch, there’s no need to go after an innocent woman,” Dream asserted, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. He soon realised that his actions were a mistake as Fletcher spun around and threw his fist towards Dream’s nose. Dream’s mask had cracked slightly on impact, his green eyes widening in panic as he stumbled back slightly.

Sapnap scanned the other men around them and calculated their next moves before he ducked a punch from a redhead. George’s hands gripped under Dream’s armpits as he pulled him up, dodging fists from the older men. Dream’s eyes were watering from the unexpected hit to the nose, and he could barely see.

But what he did see was Y/n raising the metal drinks tray she found on the poker table next to them and slamming it down on the back of Fletcher’s bald head. Her eyes were wide as she stood behind his figure that was now on the floor, groaning. Her eyes met his and Dream felt his breath catch in his throat, but he couldn’t acknowledge it at the present time because there were five other guys to deal with.

Dream regained his posture and cocked his head to the right, stretching his neck before standing off to the others. The men stood with their fists raised in front of their faces and their feet apart, ready to engage. George, Sapnap and Dream were just as confused as Y/n was, who was making sure Fletcher stayed down.

“I really fucking hate you guys. Let’s get a move on with the meeting, shall we?” Y/n said lazily, she just wanted to get home.

—

Dream sat in a large black chair, the lower half of his face covered in blood, the top half covered by his stained, cracked mask. Y/n had her legs crossed, with a stern expression, glaring at Schlatt as he rounded the table to sit at his obnoxiously large desk.

Schlatt had demanded it only be Dream and Y/n in the office with him, making George and Sapnap wait outside. The two boys had angrily complained about it, but Dream assured them it would be fine, leaving them to sulk next to the heavy wooden door that led to Schlatt’s office.

“You two make a good pair, eh?” Schlatt smirked, bringing his hands to interlock in front of him on the desk. Dream glanced at Y/n, who gave him a bored look.

He then turned back to the front, “Why are we here, Schlatt?”

“Oh, not very friendly,” He laughed, earning no responses from anyone in the room except for his assistant, Quackity, who stood in the corner. “That’s Quackity by the way.”

Dream shrugged, uninterested with the introduction of his assistant and remained still until Schlatt continued.

“Now, tell me where the money is, Dream.” There it was—the literal million-dollar question.

The masked blonde didn’t react. Y/n cast her eyes towards him, seeing nothing but the white mask that covered his face. The smile on the front was a harsh contrast to the anger Dream felt. And when Schlatt huffed and wiggled his fingers at Quackity, then Dream perked up.

Suddenly, Y/n wrists were being grabbed by Quackity, who had crossed the room in seconds. Dream immediately stood, only to be pushed back by Schlatt who had moved in front of him.

Y/n opened her mouth object when Quackity whacked his free hand over her mouth. She let out a whimper at the smack, tears welling in her eyes in shock. Nonetheless, she continued to struggle against his harsh grip on her wrists. Y/n’s breathing became heavier, her thoughts clouded with fear of the unknown; what would Schlatt want with her?

Quackity dragged the girl from the large chair towards the other side of the room, where another door lay, but he didn’t take her in yet. Dream’s gaze was locked on Y/n, everything else slipping away as he watched her thrash against her captor.

“Let’s call it leverage?” Schlatt’s haunting voice echoed through the room, and he had an evil gleam in his eye. “You tell me where you hid the money, and I’ll let her go.”

Dream’s head was on a swivel when he turned back to face Schlatt. Panic blossomed in his stomach; if he gave up the money, they’d all be dead. And as hard of a decision as it was, Dream knew what to do—he had his full faith in Y/n. He remembered what she had told him when they first started working together and drew in a breath. He nodded at Y/n once, receiving a pleading look in reply, and sighed.

“Give ‘em hell, baby.”

��

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” Sapnap spat as the three men got back into the SUV outside of the casino. George shook his head in the backseat, scoffing as Dream ignored their questions.

Meanwhile, Dream drove in complete fury. He knew what he did was wrong and stupid, but Y/n once demanded he let her go if she was ever held for ransom. It was an odd request at the time. And this was an irrational move that could get her killed, but he had no choice—it was her or the whole operation, and Dream was loyal.

“Hello? You fuckin’—”

“Sapnap.”

The youngest froze at Dream’s tone and sunk into his seat, choosing to look out of the window than at him. He flexed his hand against the steering wheel, refusing to meet their gazes.

“Y/n asked me before any of this started, that if she were to ever be held hostage, for ransom, whatever, to trust her and let them take her. I don’t know why I never asked her why, but we have to trust her, and you have to trust me for making this decision.”

“Call Techno and tell him that Schlatt’s taken one of us for ransom.” Dream said to no one in particular. Sapnap scrambled to get his phone from his pocket and dial their boss’ number, but not before turning and facing Dream from the passenger’s seat.

“I—we trust you, Dream. And we’ll be with you till the end, okay?” Sapnap mumbled, gesturing to George in the backseat.

“She’ll be fine.” Dream had a hard time believing George, “We know Y/n, she’s a strong girl—a whole lot stronger than us—she’ll get through it.”

The piercing sound of metal against metal made Y/n cringe, distracting her from the burning of the new rope bound around her wrists. Quackity’s heavy breathing almost made her laugh, they hadn’t even walked for that long.

He didn’t say anything to Y/n when he guided her inside a cell. She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked around the dirty space, scrunching her nose in disgust as she noticed the damp walls and the stray cockroach that scurried across the floor.

“I’m sorry about the state of this, we don’t have visitors often,” Quackity said, exhaling a scoff he let go of her arms. Y/n’s face dropped when she felt the rope loosen and fall off her wrists. She remained still as Quackity rummaged around behind her.

The screech of the cell door closing startled Y/n—she thought she’d have more time to fight back. She heard Quackity shuffle away from the cell, and shortly after, the sound of dress shoes tapping on the concrete floor caught her attention.

Y/n slowly turned around when someone cleared their throat behind her. She rolled her eyes as she came face to face with Schlatt. He stood with his hands behind his back in his usual arrogant suit and his deep red tie.

“Do you know why my tie is this red?” He asked, his head tilted to the side with a patronising smirk. It was an odd question, but Y/n could already guess the answer, she just didn’t want to hear it when she was this vulnerable.

Schlatt leaned down and closer to the cell, his face fitting perfectly between the bars as his eyes glared into Y/n’s.

“It’s so you can’t see the bloodstains.” He winked before sanding to his full height, his mood shifting entirely, “Anyways, I’m gonna keep this short. Get comfortable, Princess, you’ll be here awhile knowing Dream and his goons.”

With a clap of his hands and a small chuckle, Schlatt left, his shoes clacking down the hallway and into the elevator at the end of the hallway. The machine dinged and then it was gone, leaving Y/n in a deafening silence.

She sank to her knees, crestfallen, onto the concrete beneath her, still in her tight dress. As strong-minded as Y/n was, she couldn’t bring herself to give a witty remark. She was absolutely defeated. She knew Dream would get her out, eventually, but at what cost? Would Dream let everything the Dream Team has worked for in the past 3 years go to waste? For her?

She didn’t let herself cry as she picked herself up, and hesitantly sat on the cot in the corner of the cell. Her dress was uncomfortable, and the feeling of satin against her skin irritated her immensely.

Y/n had no idea how far underground she was; she sat in complete darkness and utter silence, nothing but the ringing of her ears and her screaming thoughts to keep her company.

—

Dream paced the small space, tearing at his hair roots with his fists, his face red with panic and anger. He was so in his head; he couldn’t hear his two friends calling his name from 3 feet away. The thought of Y/n alone with Schlatt made him so infuriated he could punch a hole through the brick wall next to him. The ringing in his ears was deafening, and the stinging of his nails digging into his palms was numbing.

Sapnap threw George a concerned glance, his brown eyes pleading George to do something to stop Dream from falling further into an endless loop of guilt and despair.

“Dream!” The sound of George calling him in that tone caused him to pause his pacing. He turned to look at his English friend with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You need to stop! Y/n wouldn’t want you having an existential crisis over her, she’d want you to hurry up and figure out a plan to get her back.”

Dream stood frozen for a moment; what would Y/n want? It was like a switch flipped inside Dream when he stood up straight, sending him into autopilot. All emotion wiped was from his face, leaving his eyes vacant and face blank. And as much as George hated to admit it, this cold version of his best friend knew what to do and how to do it efficiently. The sudden change shocked Sapnap slightly, leaving him frightened as he grabbed onto George’s sleeve.

“Ok boys, let’s get to work.”

Emotion is a weakness, and they sure did not need that right now.

Y/n had been suffering in the same tight dress and uncomfortable heels for a week; Schlatt’s lack of humanity and human decency (as well as kidnapping her in the first place), had put him in Y/n’s bad books.

The only human interaction she had was Quackity bringing her meals twice a day and the small conversations they would have as she ate. He didn’t talk about his work much, only hinting at his eventual betrayal and escape from Schlatt. Although, he continually spoke of his family to her, telling Y/n that he was there against his will and was threatened with death if he left. She felt sympathy for the boy, he was so young.

When Alex, as she now calls him, left her, Y/n was back with her mind. She had remained seemingly sane despite being in solitary confinement but was going insane without Dream. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his emerald ones gleaming at her through the darkness, their vibrance giving her shivers.

She missed his touch: his cold hands in her’s, their knees brushing slightly when sitting on the motel bed, his hand on her thigh in the car, despite complaints from the boys. She cared deeply for him, and she knew he did too, but they were both too scared of rejection to get together. Sapnap always teased them for being ‘pussies’, and George would roll his eyes whenever they would flush at their closeness—god, she missed them too.

Biting her lip, Y/n tried her best to prevent tears from falling down her cheeks. But she hadn’t let them fall since being held ransom, fearing she would be seen as weak by Schlatt, and even Alex. The burning at the back of her throat was fiery as she let them out. She struggled to breathe, clawing at her throat when she felt her lungs tighten. Y/n tried to sit upright to calm herself down, but her pained cries filled the cold, concrete basement and rattled the cell bars. She sobbed for hours, only falling asleep when the last ones dried.

—

As Dream put the car in park, he turned to face George in the passenger’s seat.

“You ready?” He asked. George exhaled and nodded, “Let’s get her back.”

Dream smirked. His attitude had flipped entirely from last week, leaving him cocky and ready to fight the world. However, George saw through his best friend’s act. He heard Dream’s choked and ragged cries in the bathroom at 4 am, and noticed his red, puffy eyes at 7 am when they woke up. He saw the way his hands shook every time he drove, and he caught onto Dream’s routine of not eating until Sapnap would force him away from the table with the plans spread across it.

George was concerned for his best friend, and Dream was oblivious. But despite everything, George knew he was determined to get Y/n back, above all else. Her life came before his own, and that scared George to his core, how far would Dream go to save Y/n?

“Ok, Geor—” The piercing screams of fire alarms made Dream jump as they echoed down the street. The two boys shared a surprised look before they hopped out of the SUV. They jogged down the road towards the Palm Casino with black duffle bags on their shoulders.

Flames rose as high as the sky and embers rained on Dream and George as they ran through the smoke to the entrance. Employees darted out of the main doors, crashing into the boys as they continued to the central control room of the casino. George heaved the heavy door open before closing it firmly behind them. They dropped the bags and began drinking in the clean air as they set their eyes on Sapnap who sat behind a desk with his feet up on the table.

“Well, boys, how did I do?” He said, arms out as he cocked his eyebrow up. George laughed in disbelief, “I can’t believe that worked.”

Sapnap shook his head quickly, “You had no faith in me, did you?” He threw his hand on his chest and stood up from his spot.

“Sap, you did great!” Dream exclaimed, walking over to slap the boy on the back. Sapnap’s pained expression turned into a smile as he watched George do the same.

“Ok then, where’s the security office?”

—

“I can’t fit my fat ass through there, Sapnap.” Dream’s jaw dropped as he measured the gap with his hands, “There’s just no way!”

George rolled his eyes and pushed Dream towards the duct, “Just go! Do you want Y/n back or not?” Dream’s face scrunched up, much like a child when having a tantrum, and whined.

��Why don’t you just go? I simply just cannot fit! Here, you wanna see?” George and Sapnap nodded, amused looks on their faces as they watched him dive headfirst into the air duct.

His body slipped in in such an elegant way that it made them burst out laughing. Dream, who couldn’t see his friends, exhaled deeply before he began crawling along. His movements heightened their laughter, seeing him wiggle through, but it only made Dream more determined to pursue the journey.

“Oh yeah, you have such a fat ass, Dream! Throw it back for me, baddie!” Sapnap yelled after him, his giggles interrupting the sentence a few times.

George and Sapnap’s antics were long gone, and all Dream could hear was the squeaking of an elevator and the creaking of the metal beneath him. He had memorised the layout of the ducts in his head and decided that this was the spot to drop down into.

The first basement looked usual, with a boiler in the corner and some filing cabinets lining the walls. Dream dropped from the ceiling with no sound, moving silently towards the elevator in the opposing corner of the large room. The sound of shoes slapping the hard ground paused Dream’s movements before he moved quickly behind a cabinet.

“—He said not to go down there, Tubbo. What do you think he’s hiding?”

Dream furrowed his eyebrows, were those kids? He adjusted his mark slightly before he peeked around the corner of the filing cabinet. Sure enough, Dream saw two teenage boys, one significantly taller than the other. But nonetheless, they were definitely very young. Why did Schlatt hire two British kids to guard his secret underground prison? Dream shook his head, glancing down at the floor as he crept out of his hiding spot.

“Oi!” He heard. Dream looked up, seeing the taller boy stalk towards him. The blonde boy stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he looked back at the other boy.

“Tubbo, do you know who this is?” The blonde asked in disbelief. The shorter one nodded, his expression lifting at the sight of Dream. Their jaws dropped as Dream exhaled deeply.

“Dream? As in the Dream Team? As in Techno Industries?” Dream rolled his eyes behind his mask. He didn’t respond as the two boys inched closer to him.

“Listen, I’ll give you a few bucks if you don’t mention this to Schlatt, got it?” Dream growled, shoving his hand in his pocket and pulling out a few hundred-dollar bills. The boys’ eyes shone, the shorter one reaching forward to accept the bribe before the blonde pushed him back.

“That’s all? I was expecting at least a grand each from THE Dream.” He smirked. Dream remained expressionless and went to decline before the blonde continued. “It’s a grand each or I tell Schlatt you were snooping around his casino.”

Dream shook his head and pulled another $600 from his pocket and shoved it into their hands, “Now shut the fuck up, or I’ll do it myself.”

The taller one went to reply, but the other one pulled on his sleeve and shook his head. He rolled his eyes and mumbled a string of curse words before turning and stomping away. The other boy muttered a quick ‘thank you’ with a small smile on his face and hurried off in the direction of the staircase that went up to the casino’s main floor. Dream guessed that the fire had been taken care of by the way they fled carelessly up the stairs.

Dream sighed and trod over to the elevator. He pressed the arrow to go down and groaned when the scanner next to it blinked red.

He scrunched up his face when he glanced back towards the air duct. The only other option was to try and get down the air duct and into the rafters in the basement below.

Dream had the urge to throw a temper tantrum at Sapnap’s shitty planning. He pulled himself back up into the duct and crawled towards the wall where the elevator was. Reaching a sharp drop, Dream looked over the edge, his eyes widening at the height. He grunted as he positioned himself above the fall; all he had to do was slide down.

He could hardly see the bottom, but he knew if he slid down as planned, he would go straight through. So, instead, Dream slowly moved his arms and legs into the small space and gradually let himself down, inching closer to the bottom with every move.

Sweat dripped down his temple, and his muscles ached as he went, his palms becoming slippery against the smooth and thin metal. He held his breath as he reached the bottom, scared any sound he made would attract unwanted attention from whoever could be in the vicinity.

He let out a quiet, steady breath, and he returned to his hands and knees in the horizontal air duct. His original plan was irrelevant, so he didn’t know the map of the air ducts in the second basement, leaving him guessing.

Once he thought the spot was right, he harshly pushed on a panel of the duct below him, hearing it clatter on the concrete as it hit the ground. He cringed at the sound and slowly lowered himself onto the beams that were directly below him. How convenient.

The sharp sound of the panel dropping had caught the attention of several guards. On this level, there were actual security guards with weapons and not lippy teenagers. Dream made eye contact with one of them, scolding himself when the man scrambled for his walkie talkie as he spotted Dream on the beams above.

Dream rolled his eyes and dropped from the ceiling, crouching as he landed before standing up. He brought his pointer finger to his lips before bringing his fist to his neck and dragging his thumb across the skin. The action itself made the security guard’s eyes widen and freeze his movements. Dream’s sadistic smile and seemingly wild nature made the guard move backwards into the wall as he passed.

He went around another corner and was met with an entirely different area he wasn’t expecting. But, Dream was sure he was going to succeed in finding Y/n and escaping as soon as possible. And of course, the echo of a sinister whistle made him freeze. Fuck.

“Dream! Hey, buddy, how’s it going?” As Schlatt rounded the corner, a smirk spread across his smug face, Dream squeezed his eyes shut.

“A little friend of mine told me you were here! Just thought I’d come and say hi,” He chuckled as Dream cracked his knuckles. Damn kids.

“Schlatt, where’s Y/n?” Dream demanded, cracking his neck when he jerked his head to the side.

“Now, that’s not a nice way to greet a friend, is it, Dream?”

Dream’s eyes widened behind his mask. He stood stunned, no words coming from his mouth.

“Dream, she’s not yours. She never has been. So why do you think you have to save her?” Dream’s expression remained the same as Schlatt continued, “You’re too pussy to even ask her out, let alone be her boyfriend.” It was a ridiculous argument, Schlatt knew that, but he was positive he was going to get a rise out of Dream this way.

He sneered at Dream’s silence, the deep rumble of his cackle rattling Dream’s bones. Suddenly, a scream added to the ominous atmosphere that Schlatt had created, and Dream jumped into action, launching himself at the older man.

“Where is she?” His voice became raspy as he threw a punch at Schlatt’s temple. Schlatt growled at the attempt and hurled his arm back at Dream. He dodged it, barely, but stepped back and rushed towards the cell Y/n was in.

“Y/n?” He shouted, ducking and searching for the girl through the bars of the numerous cells that lined the basement.

“Here.”

The sound of her broken voice snapped Dream into action. Sprinting down the hallway, he was met with Y/n’s grubby and exhausted body. His heart broke at the sight of her, and he gripped the bars, pulling and pushing them in an attempt to break them.

Dream was so caught up in getting Y/n out, he didn’t notice Schlatt coming from his left.

The impact of a fist colliding with his temple sent Dream stumbling to the right, his mask cracking slightly in the corner at the force. He grunted in pain before spinning to meet Schlatt again, who had his arm raised in its previous position. Dream tried to shake his head from his dazed state, the unexpected hit stunning his consciousness.

Schlatt aimed once again and swung his fist to hit Dream in the face. But, Dream saw it coming and swivelled to the left to dodge the incoming punch. Schlatt let out a guttural sound, growing frustrated with his miss. The hit to his temple left Dream seeing stars; however, he managed to duck and strike Schlatt in his stomach, earning a deep groan. The older man recovered quickly, picking himself back up to his full height as he mumbled, “bastard.”

Dream was losing shamefully, lazily avoiding punches and swaying lightly as Schlatt grinned at his anticipated win.

Whilst Dream stumbled slightly, Schlatt snickered, his fist coming across to hit him again. This time, the punch followed through and cracked his ceramic mask fully, the object dropping to the ground and shattering on impact. Schlatt barked out a laugh as he watched the pieces scatter.

“And here we have, the real Dream! You know, you’re not what I expected. Definitely uglier.” He cackled, doubling over in laughter as Dream watched. He blinked and was void of any emotion as Schlatt stood back up.

“What? Can’t take a joke?” Dream clenched his jaw, and he lunged forwards, his hands coming to grip onto Schlatt’s shoulders and bringing his knee up to jab him in his stomach. He groaned out in pain as he doubled over, yet again, but this time not in joy.

The back of Dream’s belt that held his handgun was screaming at him. So, reaching behind him, Dream revealed his firearm. The weapon had wiped Schlatt’s smug look off of his face, replacing it with one of fear. His expression mocked Dream, although he didn’t catch onto Schlatt’s taunting.

“Dream, listen, buddy—”

“Shut the fuck up, Schlatt.”

But, Dream’s face contorted to something of confusion and horror when Schlatt started chuckling. He pulled the side of his suit jacket to the side to reveal a similar Glock, making Dream freeze his once confident motions.

“You see, I’m always 3 steps ahead of you, Dream,” Schlatt tormented, pulling the gun from its secure place in his jacket.

“You’re fucked now.” Dream went to lunge at him again, but Schlatt stepped to the side and pushed him down.

Dream’s gun went sliding across the polished concrete and out of his reach. The blonde swore as he saw Schlatt stumbling towards his fallen body. He lifted himself off of the ground, panting heavily as he ducked another punch from the older man. Dream stepped back, balancing his weight on his right foot, and threw his fist out towards Schlatt’s cheek. The punch landed, and Schlatt staggered backwards slightly, blood dripping from his lips as he grinned.

“I see how it’s gonna be,” He lifted his arm and aimed the gun towards Y/n, who stood in the cell behind him. Dream leaned to the side to catch Y/n’s pained gaze.

“Please,” Dream’s strained voice was barely audible through Schlatt’s booming psychotic laughter. Clenching his fists, Dream glared at him, “Don’t do this, Schlatt.”

“Oh, Dream, I could do this all day!—” A flat crack bounced off the concrete room and was soon followed by a heavy thud. Dream swallowed in shock as he watched deep red blood spill across the floor, oozing out of the fresh wound. He was frozen in his spot as he watched the body twitch and then loll, unmoving.

“Dream?” Dream’s eyes flickered from Schlatt’s body to Y/n, who stood with his gun loosely in her hand.

“Y/n?” His voice was weak as he struggled to stand. The clatter of the gun dropping on the hard surface didn’t come close to silence the thoughts running through his head.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m okay, I’m here. Dream?” Y/n cried, wrapping her arms around Dream’s stiff body. His hand came up to feel the wetness on his cheeks, and he pulled it away, seeing red smeared on his fingers.

“He’s gone?” He whispered, earning a nod from Y/n, “It’s okay.”

“No, I know. It just shocked me, that’s all. I thought he killed you.”

Y/n sighed, tightening her grip on him, pressing her face into his shoulder, “I’m right here, see. I’m not hurt, I’m fine, with you.”

Dream turned his head towards her, an unsure expression on his face as he threw his arms around her.

“Fuck, I thought—”

“Dream. Deep breaths.” He nodded, following Y/n’s motions in breathing evenly.

“Jesus, usually you’re the one helping me calm down from something like this,” Y/n giggled, her hand coming to run her fingers through his hair, not minding the dampness of drying blood. A smile broke out on Dream’s face before he noticed Y/n’s eyes widen and her head fly to the side to search for something.

“What’s wrong?” Dream asked, seeing Y/n’s eyebrows crease, “Your mask.” She whispered, spotting the shattered ceramic feet away from where they sat.

Dream breathed out a laugh, bringing her face back towards his, “My mask is the least of my worries right now.”

“I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.”

“Of course, you will.”

“Y/n!” Sapnap yelled, running towards the girl as she pushed open the security office door. Y/n locked her arms around Sapnap’s shoulders as they embraced, the pair giggling in disbelief.

“How have you guys not been kicked out yet? The fire’s out.” Dream said, closing the door behind them. George shrugged, “Paid ‘em off.” Dream snorted in response.

When Y/n pulled away from Spanap, she hugged George, who was eagerly waiting behind them.

“Don’t do that ever again. You left me with two dumbasses for so long,” George mumbled. Y/n felt tears fill her eyes as she squeezed George tighter, “I missed you guys so much.”

And after a teary reunion, the group sat around the desk in the middle of the room.

“Where’s the big man himself?” Sapnap nervously laughed, dread ate at his conscience at the thought of Schlatt coming after them again.

“Schlatt’s dead.” The news had George raising his eyebrows and pushing his head forward, “Huh? Sorry? What?”

“He’s dead, Y/n killed him.” Dream stated, earning a small smile from Sapnap that Y/n laughed at. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. Sapnap’s reaction made me giggle.”

The group shared a collective rumble of laughter before Dream suggested they went back to the motel.

“Hey,” Dream whispered at Y/n when she passed him, gently grasping her elbow. “You guys go ahead, I just need to speak with Y/n,” He continued, waving the boys in the direction of the car. George and Sapnap shared a knowing look and tried their best to conceal their cheeky smiles.

“What’s up with them?” Y/n asked, throwing her thumb over her shoulder at the boys. Dream shook his head slightly, “No clue.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to ask how you are. You know, after everything.”

Y/n nodded, “I’m okay, I think. I don’t think anything’s really hit me yet.” Dream sighed in response.

Y/n sucked her lips between her teeth, throwing her arms around Dream’s neck in a hug. He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Thank you,” She whispered in his ear, her voice cracking with emotion. Dream’s heart clenched at the sound and tightened his grip around her.

“You don’t have to thank me, baby. I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, you know that,” He murmured, hiding his reddening face in her neck. He flushed, even more, when he felt her lips against his neck, “I love you, so much, Dream.”

Dream’s heart skipped a beat before he pulled his head from her neck. His green eyes looked into hers, the closeness of them making Y/n inhale sharply.

“And I love you. Don’t forget that, okay?” He replied, his voice low. Y/n nodded shortly, inching her lips up to his.

“Kiss me.” She muttered, nudging his nose with hers. Dream laughed breathy before leaning down and brushing his lips against hers.

Their bodies had become flushed against one another, her hips against his as they shared a heated kiss. Dream pulled away first, his cheeks pink and his lips plump. Y/n whined silently, bouncing in her heels at the loss of his lips.

Dream smiled widely at her, “I guess I want you more than I thought I did.” Y/n gasped, taking her hand from his neck to slap his chest, giggling like a schoolgirl at his teasing.

“Shut up, you’ve wanted me since you met me,” She said to which Dream nodded.

“You got that right, baby.”

Feedback is greatly appreciated, always xoxo

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flowerflamestars · 4 years ago

Note

Let's ask the hard questions here, baby. What do you think the series would have been like had it been Nesta Archeron under the mountain?

BABE this is it-this is the best question I’ve ever been asked.

For one thing, chaotic. For another: I think the simple substitution reframes the whole structure of the narrative. It’s not about a journey to power that fights Evil Tyranny (abused Human to Hero to High Lady).

It’s a story about the people working around, beside, under the powerful Lords- and the difficult choices they make. Less Hero’s Journey more, Look, These Are the Real Heroes.

Let’s start with Spring. We know now that the whole you killed a faery now you have to come to faeryland thing was an insanely shitty ruse. So maybe Andras is still alive. Maybe Feyre killed him and Nesta successfully protected her sisters. Maybe Tamlin is just a twat and went that one is pretty. ANYWAY-

Nesta gets to Spring. Lucien doesn’t immediately despise her, for, you know, murdering and skinning his only friend (a handy sublimation of the anger he can’t express against his High Lord). Nesta was raised in the fucking gentry and Nesta can play the game- it’s a question of willingness.

Feyre is a lot more willing to roll with weird circumstances for caution. Nesta is, to her bones, an aggressor. Empty manor doesn’t add up? She’s going to say something so cutting, and so infuriating to Tamtam she ends up seeing all the faeries. She steels herself, refuses to be afraid of Alis, and asks questions. (See, Nesta’s first IC dinner, zeroing in on the scariest faery and refusing to flinch)

At some point, there’s a confrontation.

But it’s not between Nesta and Tamlin. Now, in canon Tamtams is extremely willing to drag his feet on the curse. In this version, that is so much worse- sure, he’s into Nesta (Nesta, recall, just looks like sharper Feyre), but Nesta takes one look at this fragile immortal man child and roasts the shit out of him. What’s he going to do? Kill her? Negates all the stupid trouble he went to. Punish her? He clearly needs her for something.

Tamlin cannot handle that. There are no Romantic Moments. Nes spends calanmai watching faeries do weird shit out her window. She sure as fuck doesn’t drink faery wine and dance for Tamlin at the solstice. It is not happening.

So Nesta spends a lot of time alone, wandering around. Talking to Lucien, Alis, random-ass faeries out of sheer reckless ego, reading every book in the ugly manor.

Nesta confronts Lucien. I’m going to go with after the wingless dead faerie and the head in the garden. The stupid blight conversation.

This works differently and better than Feyre’s attempts to get more information for I think, two important reasons. 1) Lucien and Nesta speak the same language in acotar. It’s all anger babes- sharp edged, sexy, bullshit. There’s no cycle of forgiveness then softening- they are the same, too the same, tired and self-hating survivalists bored out of their minds in a gilded death trap.

and 2) Nesta and Feyre are quintessentially perceived differently. Feyre is hopeful- tenacious, young, free. She shakes up things for these old ass faeries and gives them something to believe in. It’s youth for the eternally young.

Nesta...is not that. She gets under your skin, forever. Multiple faeries meet her throughout the books and have very extreme reactions to that- but what matters at this point, as a mortal- Nesta reads as an adult. She’s immune to glamour. Her strength isn’t kindness or an open heart, it’s fucking steel that might take your last breathe.

And look, Lucien would respond to that. Tamlin...isn’t even talking to the girl his people died to get him. The curse is almost over and they’re all going to get tortured. Nesta, has, from day one, known something is wrong- she’s so angry, and it makes it easier for Lucien to be angry.

It’s not hunting bros who become Real Friends, it’s fire and gasoline. Empowerment.

So, I haven’t read acotar in ages- but I’m pretty sure they literally couldn’t tell her about Tamlin’s curse. But Lucien can communicate around the magical fuckery- there’s a great evil. The kids in Winter are all dead because of another High Lord.

And look, Nesta cares about dead kids. She even, begrudgingly, cares about Lucien. She does not give a single flying fuck about the High Lords.

But Lucien, in this world, is the first one to say it: Hybern.

Amarantha is Hybern’s general, and Hybern wants all of Prythian. All of it.

Nesta is absolutely going to walk into the fire to keep the humans- and by extent, her sisters- safe from faeries.

Tamlin- because he does not love Nesta- doesn’t send her away. Doesn’t crush any savage hope Lucien harbored, doesn’t do shit. He gives up.

And so Spring is dragged beneath the Mountain.

Nesta has exactly two advantages on her side: she can see through glamour, so she’s not 100% disoriented and vulnerable (just..you know, terrified), and sheer force of will.

Amarantha likes will. She likes to break it, and there are so few real contenders left after her victory.

Nesta doesn’t bargain- Nesta doesn’t beg for Tamlin’s life and love- she asks to win her own.

Amarantha wants to crush her like a bug. Insignificant little human- but wouldn’t it be more fun to watch each little crack form?

So she gets the riddle. Tamlin’s power is thrown in like the boring chekovs gun that it is. Lucien (probably) gets beat up because Lucien always gets beat up under the Mountain.

Nesta has two choices: she can answer the (stupidly cliched, easy) riddle right there, and try to walk out. (Nesta knows she’s not making it out alive). Or she can wait, and play the game. (She’ll be damned if she doesn’t take that insane bitch and maybe Tamlin down with her. Her only ally is Lucien and he’s being hauled off with a bleeding headwound soo..)

Nesta lets herself be dragged away. She doesn’t fight.

Let us remember again, that the Archeron sisters are built like a triptych. A presumable almost mother maiden crone. They look alike, especially Nesta and Feyre. If Rhysie boy thinks Feyre is hot at first glance, guess what he also thinks about Nesta?

So, yes, of course he goes to offer a deal. And let’s be clear on something- when Feyre hated Rhysands guts, what did he like about her? That she was beautiful, absolutely didn’t give a fuck, and what’s that? Fought with him.

She lets him heal her, but then- Nesta won’t even talk to him. Nothing he does works. They come to agreement (which Rhysand finds fascinating, a human with loyalty, that human heart) that Nesta will listen to Rhysand’s offer if and when, he delivers to her a whole, safe, Lucien Vanserra.

Rhys frames this as emotional torture. Incentive. He doesn’t need to play evil as well- Nesta hates fucking faeries. And she knows he killed a bunch of children.

So Lucien gets thrown in the cell. Minimally healed. About to embark on the misery train, self-deprecating laughter at the fact he’s healed, now, because of Nesta.

Lucien: so nice of you to make sure we’re all pretty before we die, Archeron. Final night spent huddling for warmth together?

Nesta: Shut up. Shut up- tell me why the fuck Rhysand would be trying to make a deal with me.

They come to the conclusion that, while Rhysand is a monster, he also has no control of his own. He’s completely under Amarantha’s thumb, and apparently, wants out.

Nesta, because she always goes for the jugular, has another thought: Are you really going to go back to Spring after this? He gave up. He gave up and you were rotting in a cell.

Lucien, to whom Nesta is both gasoline and mean friend catnip, but who is also a Sad Boi: where else can I go?

So they make a plan. Rhysand thinks Nesta is the key to killing Amarantha? Cool, Amarantha needs to die. Tamlin is the only High Lord who has access to his power more readily? Tamlin needs to do the killing.

What does Nesta want? There to be no Hybern coming to burn the land where her sisters live. To go back, to go home- but Nesta doesn’t think, even for a second, she’s really going to make it out alive. And if she does, as she thinks late at night, of Feyre’s laugh, or Elain’s quiet humor- how will it ever be safe? They live on the Wall.

Nesta is known to faeries now- Nesta is infamous, and there’s nothing to stop anyone, should her presence lead them back to her home.

Nesta privately decides Tamlin should die too.

So when the time comes, and Rhysand is like, I’ll protect you, you’ll be mine and you’ll be healed- Nesta says no. Nesta, because she really has never learned to back down- looks dead in the eye of the High Lord of Night, the monster who sleeps beside Amarantha and says: safe passage.

She’ll do what Rhys wants, for this: Lucien Vanserra’s safe passage to a safe place, and for Rhysand to promise not to get in her way when she answers the riddle.

Rhys still wants her to come to the Night Court- for whatever nebulous reasons he wanted Feyre to...which only make sense AFTER she’s changed by the High Lords...which Rhysie couldn’t have known, BUT ANYWAY- Nesta says yes. She doesn’t expect she’ll be alive to pay.

Lucien sulks back to Tamlin’s side, and spends a few weeks between challenges laying it on thick. A quiet whisper that grows, a perfect stroke to Tamlin’s volatile ego. How dare Amarantha, how dare Nesta- Tamlin is a Lord, Tamlin is Spring- Tamlin, who has suffered so much more than the other Lords, deserves his power back.

Nesta is dragged out for the final challenge.

In one of the long, dangerous hallways, her guards look the other way for just a moment- for a visitor. The High Lady of Autumn knows her son is safe because of this girl.

She hands Nesta a knife. A small gift- all she can. Steel, not ash, small enough it will go unnoticed.

Nesta is dragged before the throne, before the High Lords, Tamlin and Amarantha, Rhysand.

Nesta answers the riddle.

And when Amarantha refuses to abide the rules- Tamlin, carefully manipulated without coordinating by both Rhys and Lucien, goes apeshit.

This does not stop Amarantha from hurting Nesta. The opposite- she’s trapped in the fight between them. When Amarantha does give Tamlin over the power, it doesn’t stop- unloved by even a human, and now she’d take any chance he’d had to win her as he really was.

Nesta doesn’t stab Amarantha. Nesta lays there, bleeding to death, biding her time.

Tamlin murders Amarantha. Rhysand doesn’t beg, but he’s there, getting growled at by Lucien as he tried to staunch Nesta’s wounds.

Amarantha dies, and Tamlin, glowing with power, makes his way to Nesta. They think he’s going to heal her- to try, but Tamlin is Tamlin, so he pulls her into his arms.

Nesta, who knows she’s going to die- Nesta, who was taken from her home, her family, deprived of her life by the choices of this man- Nesta lets Tamlin embrace her, the arrogant, stupid bastard, and stabs him in the throat.

It is the golden, desperate words of Lucien Vanserra that convince the High Lords to heal her. It is Rhysand who tries first, who gives the most. After all- Tamlin had been too selfish to try, and they’d all suffered for it. Faery justice: swift and bloody.

Nesta had died victorious. Nesta died with a bloody autumn court dagger in one hand and the grip of her only real friend in the other- but death was chaos. Skies and stars and howling wind, love and blood and war.

A thousand miles away, Cassian awoke screaming, clawing at his own chest.

She climbed through blood and battle, dreams and hope, floated to an infinite sky: and found herself alive.

Breathing, whole, an immortal monster. On her way to the Court of Night with Lucien by her side.

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chao-writes-stuff · 3 years ago

Text

DELTARUNE SPOILERS

Heyyy! I wrote a thing involving Jevil and the Chapter 2 Superboss! I'm going to put it under the cut, but at the end, there will also be an Ao3 link if you wanna support me there!

Thank you! Remember to Reblog if you wanna

The Lightner Trio walked down the stairs in the Queen's massive manor, their hurried footsteps echoing like a rough pitter-patter in the technological nightmare. The massive lair confused and bamboozled them, but they definitely wanted to figure out the mystery behind what the Fountains were about, what Queen's true intentions were… and what was in the basement?

"Uhh… Kris?" Ralsei asked, his soft voice echoing out. "Why are we even here? Aren't Queen, Noelle, and Berdly upstairs? And not here…?"

Susie quickly interrupted him, punching his arm lightly to get his attention. "Of COURSE they aren't here. But whatever is here is probably important. Right, Kris?"

"I guess!" The currently blue human replied. "I've been asked by some… guy, about doing these weird favors for him. He really wants me to be alone."

"We sure he ain't a p-" Before Susie could finish her thought, Ralsei muffled her mouth with his scarf. "Who is he? And why does he want you to be alone?"

"His name is Spamton, I think. I don't know much about him, but he gave me this Loaded Disk earlier, and--"

Suddenly, a strange, chaotic voice rang out. Everyone recognized it. The tail attached to Ralsei's cloak popped off, diamonds and hearts flying out with it. The tail spun and took form, and the chaotic Jester they quite literally put to rest yesterday was reawakened.

"Spamton? SPAMTON? The same Spamton who wished for me to go, to go, and be free, free?" Jevil laughed chaotically, with Ralsei caught quite off guard. "You know him?"

"That dorito chip was part of the reason why I was set free, he was! He used to rule this world, before the Queen I've been hearing oh so much about took over. Oh, I MUST know more of how you met that ridiculous lunatic! And that's coming from ME, ME! Spamton, oh Spamton, I'd like to have a word with him~!" Jevil looked quite pissed off, his normally jovial expression looking slightly stern.

"I didn't wanna go down there anyway. Just come back, okay? You're kind of carrying us with your defense boost." Kris, with a neutral expression, gave the clown the disk they were gifted by the malignant salesman, and watched as Jevil immediately sprinted off into the basement. They could hear an echoed "Buh bye~! I'll be back in a few hundred words!" As the jester descended into the decrepit basement below...

Jevil entered the musty, rotting cellar. Despite him rarely stepping on the ground, each step he did take left a haunting impact on his feet. It was silent, save for the occasional rustling of his clothes. He didn't have long to do this. His physical form only had a few hours to be out and about before he solidified, just like the young boy and the puzzle freak. Thankfully, that's all he needed. He was getting excited, almost giddy, to interact once more with his old acquaintance. Oh, what a wonderful conversation they'd have!

He didn't walk for too much longer before he found the train station that was buried deep below. Or was it a roller coaster? Whoever had this built clearly had some elaborate roundabout in mind… too bad they were still imprisoned, haha! Jevil walked and floated across the tracks, reaching a room with a decaying robot inside.

He knew this was a bad idea. But when did he ever have good ideas?

Without hesitating, the joker put the disk into the robot. At first, nothing happened, and he was getting impatient VERY quick. He gave the robot a swift kick in the lower area, before stepping back out of the room.

Step…

SLAM! The clown was admittedly caught off guard with how fast the silhouette from above came and pushed him onto his knees. With a small gasp for air, Jevil looked up slowly at the encroaching menace. The jagged movements, the glitchy, unsolidified form… this was him alright.

"KRIS… MY LOYAL [Sponge!] THANK… YOU. THE [Clown Around Town!] I REMEMBER YOUR [Disgusting] FACE. EVERYONE WAS SO [Thrilled] TO SEE YOUR [Calcified] FACE." The massive robotic behemoth loomed over Jevil, rage in his glasses. Spamton NEO.

The clown got up, a smug, shitfaced expression on his mug. He knew damn well that the dorito in front of him was pissed off, so he leaned back in the air to retort. "At least I drink plenty of milk, uee hee hee! As for you, you haven't changed one bit since we last spoke~! Or would it be a byte, a byte? Regardless, I do hope you've given up on the illusion of freedom, freedom~! The only one who can be free is MEEE!"

The robotic menace swung around to the other side of Jevil, making it very clear who was in charge of the conversation. A small concentrated blast of Pipis was fired at the jester, pushing him back with a surprising amount of force. "YOU ACT SMUG, BUT YOU [Crashed our stocks!] AND THEN YOU [Spoiled relations with our Esteemed Partners!] I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU… GOT IN HERE, YOU… [Tuna Fish,] BUT I'M NOT FALLING FOR YOUR [Roundabout!] AGAIN!"

Jevil laughed maniacally at this thought. This guy was mad! Over something that happened how long ago? Why even bother holding a grudge still? Petty, petty! He knew why, and it's why he came back too. "You influenced him. That pretty little kitty. You gave him enough funds to release me into that carousel of bliss and innocence! But I wasn't done, not one bit! And all those years, spent being free… they made me realize something, my dearest Spamton."

The oddly calm tone coming from the jester put Spamton NEO at an incredible amount of unease. "WHAT? WHAT COULD YOUR [Calcified Lump] THINK OF THAT WOULD MEAN ANY GODDAMN THING TO ME?"

"I CAN DO ANYTHING!"

The joker used his latent power to pelt the giant mecha with small white hearts. Spamton was caught off-guard, stumbling back a fair amount. Of course, you have to fight fire with fire, so the robot used his abilities to send out a Big Shot of blue Spamton Head Pipis.

"YOU [Saturated Marketshare!] YOU CAN'T SIMPLY ATTACK ME AND EXPECT IT TO WORK [As seen on TV!] I'M A [BIG SHOT!] [BIG SHOT!!!]"

Jevil hopped up onto the ceiling, clearing the first few Pipis on the lower row heading his way. Unfortunately, the higher row caught him clean in the face as he bounced between the two, making a small Jack-in-the-box melody as he pinged around.

"SPAMTON, MY BELOATHED! I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND, UNDERSTAND, WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU'RE TRAPPED IN A CAGE WITH A SHARK, A SHARK! YOU GET BITTEN AND CHEWED UP!"

The fool retaliated by running circles around Spamton, turning into a carousel of horse bullets! The robot, in a surprising feat of puppeteering, dodged the attack almost perfectly… until a stray horsie cut a string, sending the mech's right arm into the horse race. One thing about arms with cannons on them? They fire.

As soon as it happened, Jevil was face to face with a swarm of Pipis all around him. He was stuck. All of them exploded brilliantly, sending the clown flying clean across the rotting tracks and into the wall. Tauntingly, mockingly even, Spamton NEO retorted.

"I'M THE SHARK NOW, JEVIL! I'VE CHEWED UP SO MANY [Failed Buisness Partners] THAT I COULD MAKE A WHOLE [Presentation] OUT OF THEM! STAY OUT OF MY GODDAMN WAY, OR [Sparkle like new!] YOU BRAT."

The buisnessman charged at Jevil, his hands becoming phones. "IT'S FOR YOU." Suddenly, before either of them could react, loud blasts of garbage noise manifest expelled from the phones, attacking the court jester with white blasts of energy. There was nothing he could do to stop this robot's onslaught, it looked like.

"OH SPAMTON, IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK? THAT YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S SO POWERFUL RIGHT NOW, NOW? I'D SUGGEST YOU LOOK UP, UP! YOU'RE NOTHING WITHOUT THOSE STRINGS IMPRISONING YOU, UEE HEE HEE! YOU'RE NOT A BIG SHOT, YOU'RE JUST A LAZY FRAUD WHO CAN'T STOP HANGING ON TO HIM! I GUESS SLEEPING FOR 100 YEARS DOESN'T MAKE LITTLE OLD ME MISS MUCH, RIGHT?"

Without warning, Jevil was myseriously gone from his corner. The spamware looked frantically for his target, before being struck in the arm, the leg, and the chest by scythes. Devilsknives. The last knive cut a few strings clean off the puppet, who briefly hit the ground before rising back up.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! [Hyperlink Blocked.] I'M STILL HIS LOYAL ASSOCIATE! HE MAY NOT HAVE TALKED TO ME IN [Employee of The Month for 144 months!] BUT HE'S STILL THERE…"

Jevil interrupted him cleanly and concisely. "FACE IT. YOU'RE NO BIG SHOT ANYMORE, SPAMTON G. SPAMTON. ALL YOU ARE IS A FAILED INVESTMENT, UEE HEE HEE!"

With those words, a purple blast came from behind the clown, striking the robot right in the noggin. He flew back a bit, giving the joker enough time to turn around to meet his esteemed guests.

"Ah, my imprisoners~! Didn't you guys have a Queen to rock-em sock-em?"

Susie immediately cut him off, as she punched him in the arm (causing his head to spring up, naturally.) "Well, Kris over here couldn't shake the feeling things were off. So they forced us down here, and now they're right. Somehow?"

"I know I'm right.. Jevil, who the hell is Spamton?" Kris replied, their worry about the situation starting to rise.

"It's of no concern to you~! His screws were almost as loose as mine, and I don't think it's my job to tighten them~! Uee hee hee! Thank you for the help, but I can do anything~! Even tell you guys that 3 coasters are about to come down and force you guys along for the ride~!"

Ralsei immediately stuttered something out. "Three… what?"

And just like that, with a loud rumbling, the heroes were swept up into 3 old, rusty carts, barrelling down the track. Jevil laughed to himself, proud of what he got to do. "Ah well, it's a shame I can't finish him personally…"

"But oh well! Are you proud, proud? They took care of him…"

"Doctor."

Ao3 Link!

#Deltarune #Deltarune Spoilers #Deltarune Chapter 2 #Jevil #spamton #kris #ralsei #susie #undertale #okay cool thank you byyyyeeeee

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paradise-creator · 4 years ago

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Okayyyy. Seatbelt on, space cadet! I'm gonna take you on a loooong journey ✨

First of all hello again! I'm here to request for a Haikyuu romantic Haven Box if there's still a spot left. Take your time tho, I'm good at waiting 🙌🏻

here we gooo. so I'm an 159cm pansexual asian girl. I'm a little bit on the chubby side. I got long black wavy hair and I always let it down. People say I look rude and cold so they are afraid to befriend me at first (some even hate me for no reason.) I mean its not my fault that I borned with this resting bih face 😭💔 I love wearing dark colored clothes, high waisted jeans and Sneakers.

I do wear makeup, and my favorite lipstick color is red. Like a really bold red. That's like my trademark.

for personality, I'm an enfp, taurus, gryffindor (big yikes!); I think I'm a pretty openminded person. I'm not afraid to speak up and I will fight (both using words and fists) for what I believe in. People see me as someone confident and to look up to; Tho honestly I'm pretty insecure with myself. Like I find nothing good about me and got depressed easily. Its like I have this happy clown persona everytime I'm outside my house and once I go back to my bedroom by myself its all the sad clown hours haha. ooh- this is getting kinda heavy. 😵 But anyway I care about my family and friends a lot. Their happiness is actually more important than my own. So I'd do anything to help and protect all of them.

My hobbies are sleeping, singing and watching horror movies/true crime documentaries; and yes I got scared after watching those stuff so I ended up searching for some broadway musical 😂😂 I also love to play games; otome games, cause my love life sucks *coughs*

Some facts about me!!

I believe in soulmate. Just the thought that we all have someone created specifically for us is making me happy 🥺❤

I'm a touch starved person. So I like doing skinship and PDA. I just love being spoiled and showered with love I guess 👉🏻👈🏻

I hate spicy foods, cause it really burns my throat. and I also hate lizards. They are gross and weird 😭😭

I believe ghosts are real and I'd definitely want to speak to them someday. Just asking them how does it feel to be a ghost? Is there a way to help em stop being a ghost? (Only with the nice ghost of course) 👻💕

My favorite song is Helpless by Phillipa Soo and if that doesn't show how much of a Hopeless romantic I am then idk 😂😂

I love watching tarot cards reading.

I'm a sucker for enemies to lovers trope and I can't stop this addiction. Like aaaaa its cliche but I love em so much ashdjflgl

Okay thats it! I need to stop talking before my ask give you some real headache 😂 I wish all this information helps you write a little bit and not bother you in one way or another!! Have a great day and stay healthy in this pandemic situation 🙌🏻✨ see yaaaaa~☆

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Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Old habits die hard

- No matter what

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Oikawa Tooru, The Grand King

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Sun drops

- Okay, when I read your description Oikawa popped in my head. So on to the great king we go!

- I also had an Oikawa brain rot when I decided to do your request but either way, I still think you two would look cute!

- Oikawa is the most realistic character in Haikyuu and I believe you two would definitely match

- You feel insecure? No worries, Oikawa already saw it coming and is going to give you compliments and gifts

- He may not look like it, but he is really observant

- You can't hide your feelings from this man cause he has been through that

- You both were deemed the power couple of the school

- He would ALWAYS always remind you to take care of yourself

- Both of you seem confident and really out going but in reality, you both are really insecure

- You both would understand each other

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Old habits die hard

- He almost NEVER calls you by common nicknames, except for Queen and princess

- Your nickname can be something weird like my little Alien or smth

- Whenever you watch a game, he alsyws gives you his extra jersey or his jacket

- He would randomly say I love you and if you don't respond, he'll pout

- You gave him a plushie and he named it after you

- Stargazing (Alien hunting) is his favorite type of date

- Study dates almost always ends up with one of you dead asleep before starting anything

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

No matter what

Oikawa Tooru is the grand king of Seijoh. He was handsome, smart, and all that. He was very athletic and observant. He gets along with everyone and anyone. He could get any girl to swoon to him but he is only loyal to volleyball and Iwaizumi. And that’s what people thought, but this king has fallen off his throne. He, has fallen in love and doesn’t know what to do. It started with the little things like seeing how she loves skinship or how she hates spicy food. He thought it was normal, he was observant after all. But as time passes, he realized that he might be falling. He tried and tried to avoid it, knowing that it might just hurt him in the end anyway. He knew that he wasn’t going to be able to fulfil what was in her heart because he would always choose volleyball. Oikawa had a girlfriend once, she left him because he wasn’t good enough, and he didn’t give her enough of his time.

Oikawa did not want that to happen again. He didn’t want his heart torn into pieces yet again. But still, he fell deep into the rabbit hole called love. And he hated her for it, becoming her enemy for no reason at all. But, fate seemed to be in his side. Soon enough the “mortal nemesis” relationship faded away and love soon blossomed. It wasn’t as smooth as most people would say but it’s still a beautiful sight to behold. The way Oikawa looks at her with so much love and passion, it’s breathtaking. The way that she would cheer for him no matter what, it’s alluring. A love so pure that it seems surreal and impossible. From then on, the great king knew that she was thee one. He knew that even if he was too busy, she would understand. He knew that she would always be by his side no matter what the cost is.

And he knew that no matter what happens, he would always love her. Volleyball may be his priority, but he will soon get out of it. Slowly but surely, the walls he built was crumbling away. Slowly but surely, his distant exterior grows into an attached and close koala. Oikawa’s train of thought was then shattered as he heard someone calling out to him. “Oi Shittykawa, why the hell is your face like that?” Iwaizumi said as he cringed at the sight. “Geez Iwa-chan, can’t a guy think about his soulmate in peace?” He then responded as he glared at the shorter male. “We have a game to play, Stupidkawa. And if you miss her so bad, why don’t you go to her at the stands and talk to her?” Iwaizumi said as he glared intently at his best friend. “I have a better idea,” Oikawa said as he stood up. His eyes wandered around the bleachers to find his one and only. And soon enough, he was able to see her long black wavy hair and her beautiful eyes. “Princess!” He yelled.

The female then smiled and waved at the player adorning the cyan colors with the number one. “Yes, my prince?” She yelled back. “Oh! My darling Princess! I love you with all my heart and know that no matter what, I’ll still be in love with you,” He yelled. The stadium awed at the interaction. Oikawa now found his one and only, his soulmate. And he would never let go, no matter what.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Author's note

Hello there! I'm so sorry for doing this quite late. Since exams and school and all that.

I hope you enjoy this matchup nonetheless! And I also made sure that the drabble was a bit different and unique to make up for it. Since I decided to try out a new way of writing.

#☁️matchup #Oikawa Tooru #anime #fanfic #fiction #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#Matchup #anime matchup #haikyuu matchups #hq matchups #hq oikawa #Tooru Oikawa #Drabble #BlackPearl

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fairygrdn · 5 years ago

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𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴 : #F41R13 // STATS » magnolia kim, ( two hundred & five ) twenty three, cis female, she/her, matchmaker. ATTRIBUTES » enchanting, impish, persuasive, deceptive. SEEN » seeping teabags for too long, trading secrets in whispers, dotting every i and j with a heart. DO NOT MISTAKE FOR » yooa ( shiah yoo ).

hello qts ! im xan and im late as usual but that’s just the way the cookie crumbles … 😔 im 22 , from the est timezone & i go by she / her pronouns ! i truly … never know what im doing with intros they just turn out super long & messy so aha … are u ready for this ? zimzalabim ! 😋

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ QUICK STATS !

full name : magnolia marie kim

nickname(s) : maggie , lia , mags

zodiac : libra sun , cancer moon ( click ! )

sexuality : bisexual .

occupation : self proclaimed matchmaker .

birthplace : undisclosed magical forest .

current residence : lunehaven , oregon .

pinterest : ( tba ! )

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ BACKSTORY !

born more than 200 years ago to a family often referred to as fae royalty , magnolia was the youngest of four girls . her parents were well respected animal fairies in the fae community , and because they were so efficient at wildlife conservation , magnolia and her family were never in one place for too long , always moving wherever her parent’s services were needed .

although her parents had little interest in the business of humans or other supernatural beings , that wasn’t the case for maggie and her sisters. the four of them were fascinated with everything outside the fae world , often neglecting their responsibilities for a chance to stick their noses into situations they really had no business meddling in .

as the youngest of the family , as well as the only weather fairy of the bunch , maggie often felt like an outsider or like she had to try extra hard to fit in and prove herself . her sisters eventually gave up their childish games in favor of following the family business and starting serious pursuits as animal fairies , which only left magnolia feeling more frustrated.

when her parents retire and settle down in schiltach , germany for a quiet existence , maggie tries to grow up . at a little over a 100 years old , a more experienced weather fairy tries their best to get her to take life more seriously and accept the fact that her abilities won’t ever line up with the rest of her family’s , teaching her the value in what she can do for plant life in her environment . and for a while she’s satisfied , but there’s a part of her that’s still interested in the lives of humans and other supernatural creatures , something she’d been advised against seeing as fairies often had bad luck trying to help anyone that wasn’t also a fairy .

like any stubborn teenager , though , magnolia swore she was different . she’d discovered a passion that had nothing to do with her fairy duties , and that was matchmaking . something about love had always just fascinated her , and she thought it would be a disservice to hide her gift from the world . in a small town like schiltach , maggie knew everyone , which meant she knew everyone’s relationship statuses . at first her meddling was innocent . setting two single people up on a date , mailing anonymous love letters only to whisper to the receiver that someone else sent them . the more she thought she was helping , the more confident�� she got that all the warnings she’d been given were overreactions .

things take a turn when she tries setting up a married woman with a man that wasn’t her husband . maggie really didn’t see the big deal , she thought her match was much better than the woman’s current partner but what she failed to realize was that there were real consequences to infidelity in long term committed human relationships . it became the scandal of the town , and all fingers pointed to magnolia . her parent’s were furious with her , disappointed that she hadn’t given up her childish pursuits and fascination with all things outside the fae world . not really knowing how to handle the repercussions , she decided it was time to experience life on her own for a few years .

mostly going places were her ability as a weather fairy were needed , magnolia spent the next 100 years of her life balancing her responsibilities as a fairy with her passion for love games . she expanded her services to other supernatural beings as well , which is how she ended up learning about lunehaven , eventually relocating . while her success rate in matchmaking may be shadowed by a trail of sticky situations and all around flops , maggie still wholeheartedly believes she’s helping more than she’s hurting . it doesn’t help that she’s awfully good at convincing people to give her a shot ( even when it might be in their better interest to run the other way ) .

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ PERSONALITY + TIDBITS !

oh boy oh man ... i won’t lie to u she’s kind of a handful 😳🙈 think chaotic youngest sibling vibe . probably the most irresponsible person ( fairy ? creature ? SDSDKWDNKW ) u will ever meet ... has never truly been held accountable for her actions before so she’s never learned how to own up to her mistakes which means if u tell her she did something wrong she will ignore u and maybe make it drizzle if she knows u don’t have an umbrella .

big im baby vibes ! thinks she can 🥺 her way through life bc it’s worked for the past 215 years so clearly that’s all the proof she needs she’s too old to change her ways </3 mischievous and way too nosy curious for her own good u can tell her to mind her business but she literally won’t . much like miss tinkerbell she needs attention to survive if she doesn’t get it or doesn’t feel like she’s getting enough she does act out ... that complex is high key because she misses her parents though /:

on the reverse of all that she’s an extremely sociable and friendly girl ! she’s generally easy to approach and befriend and she’s a big sweet talker . she loves love 😌 but she also doesn’t really understand it that well or at least she finds it hard to be objective when she’s matchmaking for others . oftentimes she’s considering her own preferences when setting people up but her intentions are almost always good SDJWDJWDW

she’s crazy loyal to friends and the people she cares about . would never hesitate to be there when you need her to be , and she’s really big on showing affection whether it’s through gifts or physically or mushy texts you probably did not ask for but better not complain about . can be a little dramatic and sensitive at times , and yes maybe she overreacts to criticism and negative situations , but she also knows how to have fun and get people to let go ! very good at bringing out the eternal child in u <3

despite her sometimes successful attempts at matchmaking , maggie’s own love life ? a big fat mess ! she’s still scared of serious relationships for herself so most of the time she finds a way to mess things up before it gets that deep . she’s also a huge flirt so settling down is a difficult concept to swallow SDJBWJDBWJ also ... still has those lingering childhood feelings of being different and needing to prove herself so perhaps she feels a little unworthy of true love ... that’s fine </3

she has the biggest sweet tooth in the world . she’s probably always hanging around the bakery munching on pastries . will eat dessert before dinner every time u can’t stop her

always always surrounded by freshly picked flowers and she likes to give them away to people , however she’s got a bad habit of telling people the flowers came from their admirer ( whose identity only she knows , of course )

has probably tried to set everyone’s muses up at least once

accidentally makes it rain when she’s extremely upset , although it’s rarer now that she’s had more experience with her abilities

still has a huge soft spot for animals even if she can’t communicate with them the way an animal fairy can

is on tinder ... get her some help pls </3

unironically throws tea parties in her woodland cottage. if she invites u and u don’t show up she’s going to hold that grudge until the day she dies ...

━ ˙ ˖ ☆ WANTED CONNECTIONS ! ( all open to all genders )

my brain is quite literally all rot rn im just gonna list stuff with minimal elaboration please vibe with me …

people she's done matchmaking for <3 pls give me all the plots where maggie keeps setting ur muses up on dates that don’t work out but she refuses to give up and ur muse keeps letting it happen for whatever reason ... OR maybe someone she tried to set up once and it didn’t work out and they never let her play matchmaker again and maybe they reset her for what happened and she feels guilty about it but doesn’t know how to deal with that so she just decides she’s gonna resent them back ... OR mayhaps a success story o:

ex infatuations that ended tragically lets get that angst (:<

a best friend PLEASE ...

she’s pretty upbeat so maybe an unlikely friendship with someone darker / quieter where at first they were annoyed by her but slowly through charm and time she grew on them much like mold might 😋

please give me a ridiculous enemies plot just someone who thinks she’s an absolute brat and she does everything to reaffirm that thought since the loathing is mutual and half the time they don’t even know what they’re fighting about they’re just always fighting

current hookups we love to see it there’s so many directions to go in maybe its purely a casual thing , maybe it’s casual for magnolia but not for them , or maybe she’s the one like worm maybe i would like more than sex , maybe it’s like a we only hookup when we’re partying thing , maybe it’s a we only get along naked thing , there r choices

older sibling relationships ! she also high key misses her sisters and being babied so i would love for her to have friendships that mirror that

someone she can be in cahoots with … go absolutely bonkers with knowing they won’t judge her and she won’t judge them

a we’re just friends ... unless ? plot

maybe someone who tries to get her to b more responsible and she’s just like UGH i will throw up if u dont stop but low key she appreciates the guidance

ppl whose places she’s always crashing at when she wants to be in town and not in the damn woods

i wont lie to u this got longer than i thought it would 😭😭😭 im sosososo sorry for the length … also i feel like my charas always change a lil once i actually start plotting & writing so sorry again if u see me finally writing as magnolia on the dash and ur like literally who is that … JSDBWJBDWBDJ PLEASE come message me on discord to plot ! if u prefer im’s that’s perfectly ok im just warning u now it’s gonna be a much slower process so if u want speedier replies ... u can message me @ glo lovecore ʕ´• ᴥ•̥`ʔ#8172 maybe … give this a like if u wanna … plot hehehe thank u for reading all this ur so brave for that stay sexy x

#╰ ♡ . 𝒏𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒚 ── ooc ! ┘#luneintro #did not proof read a single word of this .... lets see if that was a mistake #JWDBWJBDJWDW

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pannypancake · 7 years ago

Text

Hope is a Four Letter Word

Fandom: Mob Psycho 100 Characters: Kageyama “Mob” Shigeo, Reigen Arataka Rating: T Genre: Friendship, Dimension Travel, Pseudo-Age Swap Perspective: third person, past tense Word Count: 6971 (Oneshot) For @eigenvalium in the Mob Psycho 100 Holiday Gift Exchange (@christmas-shou)

Reigen waved one energetically dismissive hand. "We all have different skills that give our contributions value," he said. "It's only natural that we rely on other people."

Read On:

ArchiveofOurOwn Fanfiction.net

Or under the cut:

Mob was always kind of relieved when the teachers picked the groups for assignments. It saved him the awkwardness of having to ask people only for them to have to explain to him that they already had their group picked out. The only downside was that sometimes he didn't know anyone in his group very well at all.

This time was one of those times.

“I'm just saying, I don't know what you're so mad about,” Saito said, not looking up from where he was typing into his phone. His fingers and eyes moved in rapid unison. Mob didn’t know how he kept up with it while talking. “If you ask me, we got way lucky.”

“Good thing nobody asked you,” Yokoyama said, tossing her hair and sniffing.

“You kind of did,” Takada said with a shrug. He was leaning over to peek at Saito's phone. Saito kept shrugging his shoulder if Takada leaned too close, but otherwise didn’t try to stop him. “When you asked if anyone else cared.”

Mob, who had been sitting stiffly, hands upon knees, and trying to follow the course of the conversation jumped a little. He hadn't realized that had actually been an invitation for his opinion. “Um,” he said. The other three jumped a little too before turning to look at him. “Um, I think Fujita's already started on the project over there.” The other three continued to stare at him and his palms suddenly felt clammy. He resisted the urge to wipe them against his pants. “I just thought maybe we should go over and see how we can help?”

“Hah, good luck,” Yokoyama said. “She'd just tell you not to get in her way.”

“Right, so we should just let her do her own thing. It's not like she's gonna rat us out to the teacher,” Saito said.

“Fujita's groups always get really good grades,” Takada said.

“Oh, okay,” Mob said, uncertain. Letting one person do all the work didn't seem very fair to him. But...it was true that he wasn't very good at this sort of thing. Maybe if he tried to help he'd just ruin it and then everyone would get a bad grade. He looked over to where Fujita was very seriously sketching ideas onto a sheet of paper and something squirmed in his gut and his chest.

“Look, you do what you want, Kageyama. We're just telling you that you'll be wasting your time,” Saito said and then frowned as something on his phone beeped rapidly. “Shit, there goes my high score.”

“Hm? Fujita?” Inugawa rubbed at his neck as he thought. “I mean, yeah, she pretty much does every group project by herself. I think last year someone offered to help her and she just bit their head off - said she'd already done it all.”

“Sounds like a pretty good deal to me,” Shirihiko said. “It means you don't have to worry about homework this week, right?”

“Oh, I guess that’s true,” Mob said, brightening with the realization.

“Oi, Mob, you’re half way through a push-up!”

“E-eh?” Mob glanced downward and his elbows wobbled with the attention, almost as if his gaze had added extra weight.

“Ah, don’t give up, Mob! Fight!”

“Do you sense anything, Mob?” Reigen asked, hand inserted casually into one pocket. The building in front of them looked like it might once have been capable of ‘looming’, but years of sinking into rot and disuse had made it just look vaguely sad.

“Yes.” Sometimes Mob couldn’t detect any spirits when he and Reigen visited a haunting site. People are haunted by many things, Mob, Reigen had told him one time when he’d been particularly troubled by it. It wasn’t an issue now, though; even standing outside the front door he could feel the hair on his neck standing on end. “It’s very powerful.”

“Right,” Reigen said after a moment, shifting to look at him. “The client asked us not to do a straight exorcism today; we’re supposed to help the spirit move on. And sometimes it’s okay not to exorcise spirits if they’re not hurting anybody.”

“Like the little family in the woods,” Mob said.

“Exactly, like the little family in the woods.” Reigen snapped his fingers. “But we also can’t let the spirit hurt anyone.”

“Right.” Reigen just looked down at him expectantly and Mob scrambled to think of what else he was supposed to say.

Reigen sighed and laid a heavy hand on Mob’s shoulder. “Just keep an eye out.” Reigen patted his shoulder once, twice, firm. “You’ll know what to do.”

Mob followed Reigen into the building, staring up at him, but Reigen wasn’t looking at him anymore. His gaze was darting into the darkness, as if the spirit might emerge from any of the barely distinguishable shadows on the walls. It was a good instinct; Mob could feel the aura snaking through the space around them.

“It’s not happy that we’re here,” Mob said. Reigen paused, stiffened, before continuing on.

It was when Reigen’s foot was stepping over the threshold of a particularly decrepit looking doorway that snaking turned to striking. Mob’s hand flashed out, but it was almost unnecessary, his power moving first without the need of physical direction. He felt something recoil in the dark and remembered at the last second to pull back; this was not an exorcism job.

“Leach.” Something without a shape settled in front of them, just beyond the boundaries of the room. Mob watched it warily. It happened sometimes that a spirit became so entrenched into the place that it was haunting that it lost its own physical form; they would have a hard time convincing it to move on if that was the case. “Parasite.”

“Hello,” Reigen said loudly, hovering outside of the doorway. “My name is Reigen Arataka. This is my disciple, Mob - ”

The spirit lashed out again, but Mob moved first. Reigen flinched back from the place where the spirit struck at his barrier.

“Leach,” the spirit said again. “You're hiding behind the boy.”

“You're the only one who's hiding here,” Reigen said. His eyes slid past the spirit's non-form to veer wildly into the dim room. “Why don't you come on out and we can talk about this like civilized adults?”

“People like you are the worst kind of vermin,” the spirit said, apparently not interested in Reigen’s offer. “You cling to the talents of others, relying on them to carry you. Does he even know what you are?”

Reigen waved one energetically dismissive hand. “We all have different skills that give our contributions value,” he said. “It's only natural that we rely on other people.”

“What do you contribute? What value do you have?” the spirit asked and its presence seemed to swell. Mob's power prickled along his own skin as he kept himself waiting. “I gave my whole life to my work while the rest just waited for the credit. Where is the value in that?”

“Ah, here we go.” Reigen stepped forward, just outside the doorway now; brave, confident, or careless, it was hard to tell sometimes. “Alright, why don't you tell us your story and we'll see what we can do about this haunting situation.”

“Why don't you disappear.”

Mob tried to hold himself back, stopping the spirit’s curse without harming. It was like trying to cup a bubble in your hands: delicate, careful.

Inevitably impossible.

All it took was a brief spike, an infinitesimal falter in control, and the bubble burst, splattering Mob and everything around him with the collateral damage.

Mob awoke to the distinct sensation that something was off, like looking in the mirror and finding your nose moved two millimeters to the left. He was sleeping on the floor, like he had for years now, but the angle of the sun was all wrong. And his feet were cold.

He looked downward and realized that his feet were also big.

He climbed from his bed and his limbs felt strange, longer. Not, he noticed with disappointment, more muscular. He used them to carefully make his way to a bathroom he didn’t recognize, hoping there would be a mirror.

His nose was, fortunately, exactly where he’d left it. The face it was attached to, however, was quite different. Older.

Okay, so he had somehow traveled to the future. Well. That really wasn’t that strange, considering everything that had happened to him already. There was no need to panic.

He was kind of panicking a little bit.

He took a better look around the apartment. Small. Sparse. Clean. His? It was hard to tell; there were no photos on the wall or personal affects that would give its ownership away. He spent some time examining a small potted plant by the window that seemed to be barely clinging on to life.

The nicest thing in the apartment was very clearly the cellphone charging on the kitchen counter. Even so, the model would have already been considered out of date in Mob’s time; it must have been considered ancient now. It was kind of comforting to look at.

As he scrolled through the phone, a sense of relief built with every contact he recognized. Mom and Dad. Ritsu. Hanazawa. Reigen.

His thumb hovered over ‘Reigen Arataka’ for a long moment before he flipped the phone closed. This was the future; he didn’t know if the number was up to date or if he still worked at Spirits and Such. Or if Spirits and Such still existed. Or if Reigen still lived in Spice City.

He studied the familiar skyline through the window. He could probably find his way from here.

He checked the small closet and to his relief found a coat that looked like it fit him. It felt weird, taking a strange coat without permission, but he supposed that the coat was (technically) his. He reached into his pockets. From the left, he pulled a handful of crumpled receipts; all of them were from the same store, for the same type of potted plant, bought weeks apart from one another. He glanced again at the dying plant by the window, trying to decipher the strange puzzle his future self had left for him.

From the right, he pulled two keys attached by a ring. He tried both in the apartment’s front door and the second one turned the lock. Good. Okay.

Mob felt so relieved when he found the office, right where they’d left it, that his legs almost wobbled with it. He inspected the second key from his coat pocket curiously before trying it in the door; the lock turned easily.

He flicked on the lights and this space instantly felt more familiar than the apartment that he’d woken up in. There were changes: the posters with Reigen’s likeness were gone from the walls, the tile floor he remembered had been replaced with warm, if cheap-looking carpet, there weren’t quite as many books, some of the furniture had been moved. But Reigen’s desk and the smaller one that he’d given Mob to work at were both still there. Where the apartment had been bare of personal affects, the office was tidily scattered with little pieces of evidence that people worked there: two mugs sitting on the coffee table, a couple of knickknacks by the small tv, a couple of photos on Reigen’s desk in fragile plastic frames.

Mob handled the photos carefully, faintly surprised when he turned over the first one to find a picture of himself and Ritsu. They were older than he remembered either of them being, but perhaps a little younger than he appeared to be now. Disappointingly, the Mob in the photo hadn’t noticed the camera in time to smile, hands pressing down on the papers spread in front of him. The Ritsu in the picture was frozen in the middle of turning toward the photographer, eyebrows drawn to the space between his eyes and mouth open to say something. Mob wondered who had taken the picture and if Ritsu and Reigen were on better terms now.

The next one was of a boy in a Salt Middle School uniform who Mob didn’t know, but who resembled Reigen closely enough that he was probably a relative. The camera had been angled in such a way that the boy had clearly taken the picture himself, leaving the end result out of focus, but he wore a large, open grin.

Mob set the pictures back and glanced uncertainly around the office. He at least knew now that Reigen was still here. He couldn’t be certain that Reigen would know how to fix this anymore than he did, but…he would feel better not being alone. And somehow things had always worked out before. Mostly.

He was just debating giving the phone number a try when the door to the office burst open, followed by the sandy-haired boy from the picture. The boy almost chased after the door, reaching to stop it before it slammed against the wall and sighing in relief when he succeeded. “I’m sorry I’m late, Shishou, I – ” The boy stopped, schoolbag slapping once against his side with the abrupt end to his momentum, staring at Mob as he stood stiff and uncertain in front of the desk. “Are you okay?”

Mob startled momentarily at being addressed. He opened his mouth. Closed it. And finally it dawned on him who the boy had probably been expecting to see. “Oh, are you looking for Reigen-shishou too?”

“Am I - ?” The boy’s mouth moved a moment longer without sound, brows furrowed. And then he marched up to Mob with purpose, peering into his face with such force that Mob actually found himself leaning back. Without warning, the boy clapped his hands on Mob’s arms, grip surprisingly firm, and Mob felt his heart make a genuine effort to escape through his throat. “Shishou, you need to sit down,” the boy said, apparently to Mob.

“I – okay,” Mob said and let himself be led to the office’s familiar couch because nothing about what was happening made any sense and sitting down sounded good right about now.

The boy pressed the back of his hand to Mob’s forehead and narrowed his eyes before moving away. “You’re not sick again.”

“I don’t think so,” Mob said. His own hand almost automatically went to touch the spot that the boy’s hand had vacated.

The boy cupped his chin thoughtfully, rocking back on his heels, and Mob was struck again by just how much like Reigen he looked. “Did anything strange happen before I got here? Any shady looking visitors?”

“Yesterday, I was fourteen,” Mob said. If this boy was studying under Reigen, maybe he could help. “And now I’m not.”

The boy blinked at him. “Who did you say you were here to see?”

“Reigen-shishou. I think he still works here, but – ”

“I’m Reigen Arataka,” the boy said, thumping his chest proudly, “the most promising exorcist of my age. I’m studying under the greatest psychic of the twenty-first century.”

Mob’s whole body felt strange: cold and hot at the same time. His throat was dry, tongue heavy in his mouth, but he swallowed and spoke anyway. “And who’s that?”

“You,” Reigen said, looking at him steadily. “Kageyama Shigeo. Mob. My Shishou. Except you’re not, are you?”

“I think I’m still the first two,” Mob said.

Reigen sat on the couch opposite him and leaned forward across his knees. Mob had seen this pose enough times before; it usually meant Reigen was interested in a case. “Why don’t you start from the beginning.”

“Right, okay,” Reigen said, pacing a little now. Mob’s eyes tracked him as he moved. “I’ll have to handle this afternoon’s customers; that’s alright, some of them are regulars. We’ve got that little old lady coming in again to talk about her cats.” He stopped abruptly, arm swinging around to point at Mob. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

Mob stiffened, back ramrod straight as if the tension from Reigen’s arm was contagious. “Ah, um, I could go back to the apartment?” Reigen stared at him blankly. “My apartment,” he clarified. “Or I think it’s my apartment.”

“Good, perfect, wait for me there.” Reigen turned away and it took Mob a moment to realize that the conversation was evidently over. He hovered uncertainly by the couches for a while in case there was anything more. Reigen flitted busily from one part of the room to another: brewing tea, sorting through papers, checking something on his phone. Eventually, Mob decided it was probably alright to let himself out. He stopped outside the front door, patted his pocket and felt for the key; it was still there. He debated on whether Reigen expected him to lock the door after him; he decided against it.

He had the entire walk to think his situation over, but nothing became any clearer. It didn’t matter how he turned it over in his head or what angle he held it from. Understanding of his situation fled from his grasp like the answers to a math equation.

Alternate realities shouldn’t have felt that much more impossible than time travel. Home felt somehow farther now.

The knock on the door came about a half hour after Mob had decided that Reigen wasn’t actually coming tonight. He opened it to find Reigen shivering against the night chill, holding two bags of take out. “Sorry I took so long,” Reigen said. “I had to sneak out after Mom went to bed.”

Mob thought for a moment about scolding him, but the idea of scolding Reigen about anything was too weird. Instead, he moved aside and Reigen was quicker to make himself at home than he expected. He dumped the food on the small dining table and picked through the kitchen for clean dishes in a way that suggested familiarity. Mob could count on one hand the number of times he had been to his Shishou’s apartment over the years.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d had anything to eat today,” Reigen said, unpacking his own food.

Mob honestly hadn’t thought about it with everything that had happened. His stomach growled loudly, as if to chastise him for this oversight. “I didn’t. Thank you.”

Reigen nodded and gestured for Mob to sit across from him, digging into his burger without further preamble. The sight of ketchup smeared across Reigen’s face made something in Mob’s chest ease. This Reigen may have been younger and had different memories, but he was still Reigen.

“So, you wanna go back to your own world, time, whatever,” Reigen said, gesturing sharply with a fry. “I want my Shishou back. The way I see it, we’re partners.”

“That makes sense,” Mob said, relieved. ‘Partner’ sounded like a much more manageable title than ‘Shishou’. Reigen looked pleased.

Reigen insisted on looking at ‘the scene of the crime’ after they finished dinner, examining the bedroom with careful scrutiny. He insisted on turning over Mob’s bed to check for portals. Mob felt like he probably would have noticed if there had been one, but had to admit that he hadn’t checked.

Finally, Reigen rolled back onto his calves, looking vaguely disheveled, and held out a hand toward Mob. “Give me your phone.”

“You don’t have one?” Mob asked even as he passed his to Reigen.

“Mine won’t work for this,” Reigen said, frowning at the screen. “Great as my abilities are, I’ve determined that interdimensional travel might be beyond even me. So, I’m calling in my secret weapon.” Reigen turned the screen to Mob for a moment before going through with the call, apparently unfazed by Mob’s surprise.

“Ritsu?” Mob glanced at the dark sky through the window. “It’s late; will he even pick up?”

“He’ll pick up. That’s why it had to be your phone.” Reigen held his finger up in an unmistakable request for quiet. “Yo, Kageyama – ”

Reigen lapsed into sudden silence, frowning with the phone pressed against his ear. Mob sat stiffly, hands fisted in his lap as he waited. “Yeah, I know, but – ” Reigen started before pausing again. “If you would just listen – ” Reigen paused. Frowned harder. Flipped the phone closed. “He hung up.”

“Is Ritsu okay?”

“Oh yeah, he’s fine.” Reigen waved a hand in front of his face, at once reassuring and dismissive. “He’s just mad that I woke him up when his new job starts in the morning. I’ll call him back.”

“We can’t bother Ritsu,” Mob said.

“It’s not like I want to, but – ”

“We can’t bother Ritsu,” Mob said firmly. Just a twitch of psychic power and he pulled the phone from Reigen’s grasp for good measure. It felt a little weird; maybe his body wasn’t the only thing that had changed.

“Geez, fine.” Reigen rolled his eyes before standing up, stretching until his back popped. “I guess it’s good to know that you don’t really change when it comes to stuff like that, whatever world you come from.”

“Look, I have school tomorrow, but I’ll do some digging around and let you know if I find anything,” Reigen said. “You should see if you can do anything on your end in the mean time. You know, psychic stuff.” He waved his hands expansively in what Mob guessed was supposed to be a representation of ‘psychic stuff’.

Mob nodded even though he wasn’t sure exactly what it was that he was supposed to be trying. Maybe…could he make a portal? He let his aura flare, just a little, and even with the ‘weird’ quality to it, he knew his powers were as strong as ever. It was almost scarier to entertain using them to travel between realities as a real possibility.

Reigen didn’t seem to notice Mob’s flare up, pausing instead to look at the plant by the window. He reached out one hand to touch a browning leaf before poking at the soil. “I thought he was looking after it.”

Mob thought guiltily of the receipts in the coat pocket and wondered if he should say anything; it wasn’t his secret to share. And then Reigen sighed and Mob couldn’t find it in himself to lie. “I think he’s been replacing it every couple of weeks. Sorry, I was never much good at looking after plants.” Actually, if he used his powers, they usually grew too much and became a problem in a different way. He understood why this world’s Mob would want to care for the plant without relying on psychic powers, might have even felt proud of it, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed that he’d clearly been unable to take care of something that clearly meant so much to Reigen.

To his surprise, Reigen didn’t seem disappointed at all. If anything, he left looking happy.

“Where have you been, Dimple?” The words slipped out before Mob realized that they probably wouldn’t make any sense – not to this Dimple.

“Keeping out trouble,” Dimple said, looking a little cross. “I figured I’d give the kid some space after the, ah, incident last month. Keep you from deciding to poof me. Turns out, there’s no pleasing some people.”

“So, he’s not possessed,” Reigen said, staring Dimple down.

“Possessed? Kageyama? Hah! I’d like to meet the spirit who tried that one.”

“No,” Mob said because Dimple wasn’t talking about himself and there was only one other spirit who came to mind, even if Mob had technically been in someone else’s body at the time. “No, you wouldn’t.”

Dimple stared at him for a moment. “No, I don’t suppose I would.”

“Well, it was worth a shot.” Reigen sighed. “I figured we should rule the easy stuff out before breaking the laws of science and whatnot.”

“He’s not possessed,” Dimple said, “but he is sporting one hell of a curse.”

“Curse?” Mob’s eyes widened with the epiphany.

“And you couldn’t just say that from the beginning?” Reigen glared at Dimple, hands on hips.

“I was getting there, sheesh.” Dimple floated closer to Mob, looking him over before whistling. “It’s a doozy too. Normally Kageyama should be able to shrug this kind of stuff off, but, as usual, his powers complicate things.”

“What do you mean?” Mob checked himself over, wondering if he could spot the curse if he looked hard enough.

“I mean, you appear to have…absorbed it? Something like that. Shame – I don’t get to eat curses very often.”

“So, what do we do now?” Reigen asked.

“You’re gonna need the help of a really powerful psychic, that’s for sure.”

Reigen glanced at Mob. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to lend me your cellphone again.”

“We’re – ”

“ – not bothering Ritsu. Yeah, I got it.” Reigen sighed.

“You could always ask that guy,” Dimple said. Reigen's eyes narrowed. “What? Is this because you want into his pants? Because I don’t see how it would hurt. In fact – ”

Reigen grabbed Mob’s arm firmly. “Let’s go. There’s nothing this useless spirit can do for us.”

“Useless? Who are you calling useless, you wannabe – ”

The house looked normal enough, but Reigen kept straightening the hem of his shirt as they approached. If Mob didn’t know better, he might have mistaken it for nervousness.

The woman who answered the door did not look pleased to see them and Mob began to feel a little nervous himself.

“Good afternoon, Serizawa-san,” Reigen said, ignoring Mob’s surprise at the name. Reigen had his Customer Service Smile in full force and Mob allowed himself to relax fractionally; Reigen had always been very good at dealing with people who didn't want to deal with him.

The woman stared at Reigen for a long moment before stepping aside. “Katsuya’s upstairs.”

Reigen and Mob both thanked her in turn before entering, Reigen encouraging him to ignore every ingrained instinct toward politeness and hurry on. About half way up the stairs, Reigen finally acknowledged the questioning glances Mob had been directing at him. “I miiight have yelled at her. Once.” Mob couldn’t entirely quash spark of admiration; Reigen would be the kind of kid who wasn’t afraid to yell at an adult.

Reigen seemed to have no trouble figuring out which room belonged to Serizawa, pausing to rap his knuckles gently against the door. “Serizawa-senpai? We need to speak with you.”

It only took a few seconds for the door to crack open, a head poking out. Serizawa looked both less put-together than he usually did these days and more so than he had been when Mob had first met him. He smiled tremulously and seemed to unfold from himself a little when he saw them. “Reigen-kun. Kageyama-san.” He paused and his brow furrowed as he turned to Reigen. “I thought you were sick?”

“What? Me? No. You know me: the very image of health.” Reigen quickly inserted himself into Serizawa’s doorway, wrapping one arm over the other boy’s shoulder and pulling him away from Mob. He seemed to remember half way in that Mob was actually supposed to be a part of the conversation and hurriedly signaled that Mob should enter. Mob tried not to feel too annoyed.

Serizawa was very patient while they explained things to him, eyebrows lowering on his face when he had to ask them to review certain points. "I'm very worried about Kageyama-san too," he said when they had finished. He glanced, almost guiltily, at Mob. "Um, both Kageyama-sans. I guess I just don't...see why you came to me with this? I mean, ah, not that I don't want to help - obviously! I just don't see how I...can?"

Reigen's eyebrows rose on his face as if to compensate for every millimeter Serizawa's eyebrows had sunk. "Serizawa, you're the most powerful psychic I know." He stopped, patted Mob on the arm, almost consolingly. "Besides Shishou, of course."

“That’s very nice of you.” Serizawa ducked his head as he started to turn pink and sweaty like after a workout.

“It’s the truth,” Reigen said emphatically. “I need a powerful psychic to get rid of this curse and you’re the man for the job.”

“Reigen-kun, I still can’t control my powers well enough for something like this. It wouldn’t be right to use them on another person.”

Mob felt sympathy swell in his gut. “We’ll find another way.”

“What other way?” Reigen asked, one hand making a frustrated slice through the air to connect with his other palm. “We can’t bother Ritsu, Dimple can’t eat it, I tried calling that guy with the ESPer training camp or whatever – ”

“Ah, Hanazawa-san is – ”

“Busy, yes, I know. I couldn’t even get through to him directly and the brat who answered the phone wouldn’t tell me where he went.” Reigen sighed, running a hand through his hair. Serizawa was so tense at this point that Mob’s back hurt just looking at him. “I’m sorry, Serizawa, this isn’t your fault. We’ll…we’ll figure something out.”

“I do want to help,” Serizawa said. “Maybe I could, ah, come by after school? Just to see if there’s anything else I could do?”

“I appreciate it,” Reigen said, but he didn’t make eye contact with Mob the whole way back.

Mob woke up one morning to the realization that he may not be going home for a long time. Something burned at his eyes and pushed at his ribcage and he tried desperately to quash it before he wrecked something in the apartment that he still couldn’t think of as his.

“He hasn’t been in school all week,” Dimple said, materializing arms apparently just to cross them. “I’ve been tailing him because tall, dark, and jittery here was worried.”

“Reigen-kun, why didn’t you say something?” Serizawa genuinely looked as confused as Mob felt.

Reigen glared at him, taking Mob aback; he’d never seen the Reigen of his world be anything but kind and patient with Serizawa. “Because there’s nothing you could have done. You already missed so much school while you were locking yourself in your room, you can’t afford to miss any more.” Reigen spread his hands and adopted his most reasonable tone of voice. “Look, priority number one is still getting Shishou back, but until that happens someone needs to pay the rent and keep this place running. I may not be like the rest of you, but I can do that much.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about that,” Mob said. “Adults are supposed to handle those things.”

“No offense, but you’re not actually any more of an adult than I am,” Reigen said and his expression didn’t look very young at all.

“Why didn’t you ask Dimple for help, then?” Serizawa asked.

“It’s not like he can greet customers,” Reigen said, but for the first time he looked away from all of them, appearing uncharacteristically cornered. “Why would he want to, anyway; not every job was going to have ghosts for him to eat.”

"What, you can only accept help from people you think you've manipulated into giving it?" Dimple said. It sounded mean, but Dimple was easy to misunderstand when he was actually trying to help. "Is this some sort of pride thing; you're too good for handouts? Because let me tell you, kid, out of the two options this one is much more pathetic."

Mob didn’t think that was it. “Reigen-shishou says that you’re never too good for free”

“Look, Shishou has saved me a whole bunch of times,” Reigen said. “I owe him this.”

“I don’t think Kageyama-san thinks of it in terms of ‘owing’,” Serizawa said.

Reigen whirled on Mob, advancing with an almost manic energy. "Why did you take me on as your disciple?" Mob knew the glint in Reigen's eyes well; it was the look he wore when he knew he was on to something.

"I don't know," Mob answered honestly. "I don't understand why I would.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say when Reigen almost seemed to deflate. Dimple's harsh inhale and Serizawa's nervously reproachful "Kageyama-san" only backed that up.

“I don’t know what kind of person this ‘me’ is or what he would have to teach you,” Mob said, “but he must have his reasons. Reigen-shishou helped me learn to use my powers to help other people. I hope that we’re still able to help people here.” Mob placed a hand firmly on Reigen's shoulder. “We all have different skills that give our contributions value. It's only natural that we rely on other people.”

Reigen looked up at him, wide-eyed, before turning his gaze away just as quickly. "Then why can't you rely on me?"

"I do." Mob's brow furrowed. "All the time."

“But not this ‘me’,” Reigen said. “And you’re not the one I want to hear that from.”

“I know,” Mob said and tried not to be upset about it. The thing inside his ribcage rumbled and swelled.

“Hey, if your ‘Reigen-shishou’ was here, what would he do?”

“I don’t know.” He’d wanted to turn to Reigen for help from the first moment he’d woken up in this world. The thing pushed until the pressure was almost unbearable, shaking him apart from the inside. “I wish I could ask him.” If they couldn’t figure this out, he’d never see Reigen, or anyone else he knew, again.

Mob’s aura flared; the pressure had nowhere else to go.

Dimple hurriedly backed behind Serizawa. “Kageyama, hey, what are you –”

Mob’s explosion came on like a kettle coming to boil and all of them were overtaken by a blinding white light.

When Mob was finally able to open his eyes, he found himself again in an unfamiliar place: white, expansive, and empty.

Empty but for one familiar person in a grey suit and pink tie.

“Ah, Mob,” Reigen said, settling into a casual slouch even as he took in his surroundings, “this is your doing I take it?”

“I think so,” Mob said. Reigen shrugged and sat down, patting the space beside him to indicate that Mob should do the same. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Reigen said. “Can’t say it’s much to look at, but it certainly makes a change from the past week.”

“Did you go somewhere too, Reigen-shishou?”

Reigen nodded. “Hell of a thing to wake up to: the office was gone, I didn’t have your number – which made sense later because apparently we’d never met. I worked for a law firm. Steady, reputable. My parents would have loved it.” Reigen scratched at the back of his neck. “Might have been their idea, come to think of it.”

“Oh. Ah, were you very good at it?” It sounded like a stupid question as soon as he’d asked it; it seemed obvious that Reigen, who never lost an argument, would do well as a lawyer. Somehow, in his mind’s eye, Mob couldn’t make Reigen fit into any other context than the Spirits and Such Consultation office, feet propped on the desk, using a computer that had never heard of a ‘terabyte’. Even so, he wondered if Reigen had some regrets.

“Well, you know, these places make you start small.” Reigen cleared his throat, loosening his collar a little. “But my last performance review was very favorable.”

“That’s amazing, Shishou,” Mob said sincerely.

"If something's worth doing, it's worth doing well. I've always believed that." Reigen laughed like he'd told a really good joke; Mob wished he got it. "I probably would have quit within the week."

“Why would you do that?”

“Because sometimes our talents are the worst thing for us, Mob. An idle mind is an obstacle to progress; always want more.” Reigen frowned. “And never let anyone make you do something that you don’t want to do.”

“My Mom says we all have to do things we don’t like sometimes. Like Math and dishes.”

“Wise woman, your mother. And she’s right for the most part. But unhappiness, dissatisfaction – these things are traps, Mob. You don’t always know you’re stuck until it’s too late, but you have to claw your way out regardless. Otherwise – ”

Mob tried to wait patiently for Reigen to finish, but no follow-up seemed to be forthcoming. Mob shifted a little, something uneasy in the silence travelling through the base of his spine. “Shishou?”

“I was trying to figure out how to get back. I did manage to track you down, but…well. And then I wasn’t sure what was happening when that whole white light business started. I should have known it would be you."

“You said that I would know what to do,” Mob said in realization.

Reigen blinked at him for a moment before smiling. “Just so.”

“You said you found me,” Mob said. “Did I – ” Mob clenched his fists, unreasonably frustrated. Did I not try to help you? But maybe that Mob was still afraid of his powers. Or maybe there was some worse reason why Reigen couldn’t turn to him for help.

“You did alright without me,” Reigen said, ruffling Mob's hair lightly. Mob wasn't always the best at reading the mood, but Reigen didn't seem upset.

Mob thought back to the empty little apartment and how much better he had felt when he had found the office. “I think I did better with you.”

“Oh?” Reigen raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Mob. Flattery is a dangerous - ”

“Did you do better without me?” Mob asked because Reigen hadn't mentioned that part.

Reigen ducked his head. “No. I don't think I did.” He chuckled. “Maybe I do rely on you too much.”

“Then maybe - ” Mob started to say and maybe he'd meant to finish with we were meant to help each other.

But at that moment, white space became impossibly whiter. And brighter. Mob blinked, squinting against the light -

- and when he opened his eyes, he was back in the musty house like nothing had changed; Reigen and the spirit still stood in their same positions. Reigen's back seemed impossibly broad as his arguments grew more passionate.

“It may be natural for the weak to cling to the strong,” the spirit said, “but do not pretend that it benefits the strong.”

“Was your mother weak, then?” Reigen asked.

The spirit stopped short. “What?”

“She came to us to get help for you. Is she weak because she had to rely on us?”

“How dare you – ”

“No, how dare you. There’s nothing more powerful in this world than the bonds between people; only fool would look at them and see weakness.”

“It’s not weak to ask for help,” Mob said.

“Exactly,” Reigen said, smacking his fist into his palm. “It’s absolutely the least weak thing you could do.” He stretched out a hand. “So, how about it? Take the gift your mother has given you and let us help you.”

For a moment, Mob really thought that it would work. Or maybe he just wanted to believe that it would and that’s why he was so late in noticing when the spirit’s aura turned malevolent and violent energy grasped at Reigen’s arm. Reigen howled as the skin on his arm blistered and Mob didn’t even have time to think; his power surged out from him like a wave.

And this time he did not hold back.

Reigen cradled his injured hand against his chest as they sat on the lawn. They’d had to call Serizawa to pick them up; Reigen wouldn’t risk driving the rental one-handed. Mob had felt bad that Serizawa had sounded so worried when they’d explained the situation to him, but mostly he was relieved that someone else was handling it now.

Reigen kept glancing down at his jacket pocket, where he kept his cigarettes. All at once, it occurred to Mob why he probably hadn’t grabbed one yet. “I could light one for you,” he said with a guilty glance at Reigen’s hand.

Reigen turned to look at Mob, eyes a little wide. “What? Oh. Don’t worry about it; I should probably cut down anyway.”

Reigen stared at Mob a moment longer before turning away again, scrubbing his good hand over stubble that he didn't have. “Listen, Mob, not everyone is going to want our help,” he said. Mob nodded because he understood that much, even if it didn't make anything feel any better. “But it matters that we tried.”

“You’ve helped a lot of people,” Mob said softly.

“Yes,” Reigen said, “we have.”

When Mob woke the next morning, his feet were the right size and maybe a little too warm.

Fujita rolled her eyes. “I already have it all planned out; I'm not changing it now.”

“Oh, okay,” Mob said. He eyed the various papers and objects that Fujita was carrying. It looked like a lot. “Um, I could help you carry that?” She stared at him, maybe a little disbelieving. “I'm in the Body Improvement Club,” he said hopefully. His muscles still didn't look like much (though President Musashi had said that his deltoids seemed a little less soft the other day), but he was sure he could manage that much.

“Sure,” she said, drawing out the middle vowel and staring at him for a moment longer before handing off some of her burden. They walked mostly silent through the hall and Fujita kept shooting him small glances.

“Um, hey,” she said, stopping as they approached the door, “are you available after school today?”

Mob tried to think of any pressing commitments; Reigen wouldn't be taking on many serious jobs while his hand was bandaged and it wasn't a Body Improvement Club meeting day. “Yes, I think so,” he said.

“Oh, good. Um, then you should meet me here and I can catch you up on what I've been working on so far.”

“Oh! Sure!”

“Great.” Fujita helped him unload the papers onto the desk. She paused to re-arrange them in a way that didn't make much sense to him, but seemed important. “And, um, thanks. You know, for asking.”

#shou-ho-ho #Mob Psycho 100 Holiday Gift Exchange 2017 #Mob Psycho 100 #Kageyama Shigeo #Reigen Arataka #Friendship #Dimension Travel #Age Swap #Third Person #Past Tense #Oneshot #Rated T #Gen #Fanfiction

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slashtrashqueen · 7 years ago

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NOTE

the following text is directly copied and pasted from the article for my own reference convenience and I in no way claim authorship over anything written here

If I’m in your car, and we’re not in a hurry, chances are that at some point, I’m going to ask you to pull over so that I can solemnly poke a stick at a dead thing along the side of the road. If we’re in my car—which is usually equipped with nitrile gloves, hand sanitizer, and garbage bags—and the decedent is more structurally sound than a fetid fur pancake, you might want to brace for a smell or two.

I’m into roadkill. I get messages late at night about a beautiful fox in good condition by the side of a highway, and in the morning curse Morpheus himself that I slept through the precious window between warm death and Pollockian spatter. I once left a fat, pristine squirrel carcass on a tree stump next to my then-boyfriend’s car as a gift, like a lovesick cat; he later married me. My friends gave me a bird carcass in a cooler for my birthday.

Dead animals are my shit.

My interests in the subject span more than just a pathological curiosity about the macabre reality of mortality and a steadfast appreciation for the slippery mechanics of life: no, dear reader, I am also into crafting. And what better way to memorialize the fair critters who meet their untimely ends during some shitlord’s 2 a.m. taco run than to turn their dick bones into brooches?

(Don’t answer that.)

Maybe you’re into dead stuff, maybe you aren’t. But if you’ve ever marveled at a pelt, or browsed bone jewelry on Etsy, or wondered what the fuck a rotten squirrel smells like, then I am here for you. Welcome to DIY Death Crafts. Please wash your hands.

First off, a word on the legality of scooping broke-neck Bambi off the interstate. There are states where this is not, per se, legal. State wildlife and game commissions work to regulate who can hunt what and when, requiring licenses to take down specific animals during specific seasons using specific methods. For example, in North Carolina, where I live, hunting feral hogs on game lands is prohibited from one half-hour after sunset to one half-hour before sunrise, unless you have a special permit. Oh, and public nudity on game lands here is prohibited, so no shirtcocking during your pursuit of pork.

I’m allowed to pick up dead animals—North Carolina is pretty friendly to crafty Southerners with a penchant for road steak and possum stew—but other states have concerns that if Billy can’t shoot a feral hog wherever he wants, he’ll just hit it with his car and take it home anyway, or at least tell you that’s what he did if and when some poor government employee comes to scope out his freezer to check that those kilos of sausage had the appropriate papers. So, if you’d like to stay legal, before you grab that non-federally endangered, catastrophically brain-injured animal off I-95, double-check to see if you’re technically allowed to do so.

There’s also the question of safety.

When picking up dead things, it’s best to a) be prepared, and b) assume it’s infectious as shit with something terrible. Rabies is essentially 100 percent fatal, and wild animals are often heavily parasitized with nasty little bugs, so don’t tongue-fuck roadkill corpses or let your dog hump them or anything. I’m not about causing harm with this DIY, so please be aware of the legal and physical dangers, and play at your own risk. Also, if I find out that you hit an animal with your car on purpose for crafting, I will absolutely punch you in the throat should we meet.

That said, now that you are aware of the danger and legality of your actions, let us begin.

The author, in her element

Selecting Your Buddy

Obviously, what you are able to do with your ode to the destructiveness of humanity depends on the quality of the body that you find. The best case scenario is a warm, fresh death, still soft without rigor, preferably dead of brain injury and relatively intact. These are also, as you might assume, pretty damn rare. Fresh is preferred, as it’s easier to skin a warm animal: you can peel ’em like a banana.

However, if you’re scouting for bone crafts, which is what I’m covering today, it doesn’t matter so much. (Word of caution: if you are maggot-averse, you might want to err on the fresher side, but don’t freak out too much, as a lot of roadkill gets pancaked or eaten before the fly babies hatch.)

Find a carcass with some intact bones—preferably not too stinky, if that’s the kind of thing that bothers you—and if it looks like it was pretty healthy, recently deceased, and merely unlucky, you can proceed to step two. Also, if the smell is really bad—like, for instance, dead squirrels fucking STINK—a little Tiger’s Balm under the nostrils can make the drive home more pleasant.

Transportation

Here is where I like to cosplay CDC detective and get real serious about my safe-specimen-collection protocol.

Nah, just kidding, I use a trash bag and gloves. First, I use my gloved hands to examine the animal, because I don’t want a surfeit of weird raccoon fleas in my ancient Subaru, and also because I am curious to a fault and like to get up close with my new friend before I bring her home.

If the animal is small, I’ll just put it in the trash bag using my gloves. If it’s larger or awkwardly positioned in rigor mortis, I’ll take my gloves off, stick my arms into a garbage bag, grab the roadkill, then inside-out the bag around the corpse the way people pick up dogshit off the sidewalk.

Then just tie the bag off and go home. Please don’t forget there is a dead animal in your trunk. Learn from my mistakes.

Clean The Body

There are lots of ways to do get the bones out of your roadkill buddy. Personally, I use my dissection skills from college to skin the animal, remove the viscera with minimal damage to all the stinky guts, then strip most of the muscles from the bone is a fairly haphazard fashion. Alternatively, you can also just bury the body in a bucket full of dirt, preferably in warm weather and damp soil, and check on it on a few months, if it’s small. (Bonus points if you can bury it near an ant hill, which will expedite the process.)

For skinning, run your knife crotch to chin, trying not to pop the peritoneal sac full of viscera. Then, with gloves on, run your fingers between skin and muscle and just rip the two apart. From here, pull out the guts, hack off the muscle, and get ready to macerate. This isn’t precious work—there’s no one way to do it if you’re just wanting bones—so my suggestion is to watch some YouTube tutorials and fucking try it.

Macerate That Shit

Once you have mostly bone, put the bones in a bucket of water or a glass jar, close it—but not too tightly, as a lack of oxygen will slow down the process—put it in the sun, and leave it. This is called maceration, which is a sped-up rotting process whereby the bones are cleaned by bacteria. One handy tip, which works well for small carcasses but can be scaled up as needed, is to stuff the bones into some pantyhose for easy retrieval. I mean, unless you want to fish though the soup of liquified death for vertebrae. Your call.

After two days, change the water. You don’t have to change all of it, just dump out some of it and replace it, being careful not to use water that is too hot, as it will kill the bacteria that you are relying on to eat the body. As you do this, remember to enjoy the horrible smell that will happen! I love this part, probably because it makes people throw up. When you change the water, try to remove as much meat and fat and gross shit as possible; you want the bacteria eating food off the bones, not the greasy remains left in the death stew. Check again after another couple of days, and keep scooping shit out and replacing some of the water until the bones are clean. Could be as quickly as five days or so, and it probably won’t take more than two weeks for larger animals.

If the process seems to have halted, put the bones in a stock pot, simmer for about an hour, careful not to boil them, then restart the maceration process. This is a pretty hardcore step, as it’s gross and smells bad and you have to do it in your kitchen. But I figure you should know that the option is there.

Once the bones are clean, remove them and dry them carefully. Don’t dry them in the sun or the oven, as this can cause cracking.

Degrease and Bleach

For extra-pretty bones, degrease and bleach that shit. There are several ways to degrease, but my preferred lazy-girl way is soap and water. Stick the bones in a container of hot water and healthy amount of dish soap, and leave ’em for at least a week. There will be gross shit floating on top of the bone-soup when you are finished. Do not eat it.

Once the bones are clean, bleach ’em in a 4-percent hydrogen peroxide solution by soaking them for a day or two or three, whatever you need to get the visuals you like. Very important: the bleaching container should not be airtight, or it could explode! Chemistry, man. You can keep doing the bleaching step until the solution no longer foams when it comes into contact with the bones, usually about two or three times. Once they are nice and pale and clean, dry those babies on paper towels and get ready to get weird.

Annie Get Your Glue Gun

Congratulations, you have a pile of bones! Now get out there, crank up that glue gun, and tap that creativity like a maple tree. A few ideas for newcomers include gluing plastic gemstones all over a skull like some kind of fucked up death BeDazzler, making brooches from the bones that look the coolest and pretending you know which ones they are, gluing the bones together in an intractable mess that would make David Cronenberg weep, and—my personal favorite—leaving the whole jumbled disaster in a pile on your kitchen table and calling it art.

Death comes for us all, my friends; might as well make it beautiful.

Leigh Cowart is a freelance journalist covering sports, science, and sex. Her work has appeared in Vice, The Classical, and NSFWCORP, among other places. Follow her on Twitter @voraciousbrain. Not for the faint of heart.

Adequate Man is Deadspin’s self-improvement blog, dedicated to making you just good enough at everything. Suggestions for future topics are welcome below.

#bone cleaning #witch shit and worship #vulture culture

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circle111e-blog · 8 years ago

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David Bowie: Ten things we've learned since his death – BBC News

Image copyright Getty Images

Image caption David Bowie: One of the defining artists of his generation

It's one year since music legend David Bowie succumbed to cancer.

The musician died two days after his 69th birthday, having kept his illness hidden from everyone except his family and closest collaborators.

He had only just released his 25th album, Blackstar, which came to be seen as his “parting gift” to fans, reflecting as it did on themes of mortality and decay.

It was a typically adventurous and enigmatic record from a musician who maintained a sense of mystery throughout his career.

Since his death, however, fans have been afforded the occasional glimpse into his creative life – all of which elevate his status as a visionary, musical genius and humanitarian.

Here are 10 things we've learned in the last 12 months.

1) He wanted his ashes scattered in Bali

Image copyright Thinkstock

Bowie was cremated in private last January. In accordance with his wishes, no family or friends were present at the ceremony, and the whereabouts of his ashes remain a secret.

His son Duncan Jones denied a rumour they had been spread at the Burning Man festival in Nevada, adding that if his father's ashes were to be scattered in public, “it would at the Skegness Butlins“.

However, according to Bowie's will, which was filed in New York on 29 January, the star wanted his ashes scattered in Indonesia “in accordance with the Buddhist rituals of Bali”.

2) He worried about how Blackstar would be received

Image copyright Columbia Records

For his final album, Bowie dispensed with his regular band and hired a group of young jazz musicians to push his music in a new direction. It was adventurous and exciting, but the star wasn't sure how fans would react.

“He was nervous it wasn't a good album,” said Jonathan Barnbrook, who designed the sleeve.

Speaking of which…

3) The artwork for Blackstar was a comment on mortality

Image copyright Columbia Records

The title of Bowie's last album suggests a light flickering out, while the video for Blackstar features a skeleton inside a spacesuit that is “100% Major Tom,” according to director Johan Renck, who spoke to Francis Whately for the BBC Four documentary Bowie: The Last Five Years.

The album's artwork, which presents a single black star on a white background, is also loaded with symbolism.

“The idea of mortality is in there, and of course the idea of a black hole sucking in everything, the Big Bang, the start of the universe, if there is an end of the universe,” Jonathan Barnbrook explained to design website Dezeen. “These are things that relate to mortality.”

On the vinyl edition, the star is cut out of the sleeve, leaving the record exposed. “The fact that you can see the record as a physical thing that degrades, it gets scratched as soon as it comes into being, that is a comment on mortality too,” said Barnbrook.

Months after the album was released, fans discovered that holding the record in direct sunlight would make a field of stars appear on the black inner sleeve. Once removed, the stars would fade away – adding another layer of symbolism to the cover.

4) He could have been Gandalf

Image copyright Shutterstock

The list of stars who almost starred in Peter Jackson's Lord of The Rings trilogy is almost as long as the films themselves. Nicolas Cage auditioned to play Aragorn, while the part of Gandalf was offered to Sean Connery and Patrick Stewart.

Amazingly, Bowie – star of 1986 film Labyrinth – was also on that list.

Actor Dominic Monaghan, who played the hobbit Merry in the movies, said he had seen the singer enter the casting studio in 1999. “I'm assuming he read for Gandalf. I can't think of anything else he would've read for,” he told The Huffington Post.

“We approached him,” the film's casting director, Amy Hubbard, later confirmed. “I'm pretty sure it was Peter Jackson's idea [but] he was unavailable.”

5) He left $2m to his personal assistant

Image copyright Shutterstock

Bowie left an estate of around $100m (82m) to his wife, Iman, and his two children. But he also gave $2m (1.6m) to his personal assistant Corinne “Coco” Schwab.

It might seem like an extraordinary act of generosity, but Schwab was his closest confidante for 42 years.

She started working for Bowie in London in 1973 when she answered an advert in the London Evening Standard asking for a “girl Friday for a busy office”. Before long, she was his right-hand woman, looking after every aspect of his life, right down to diet. In an early Rolling Stone profile, she was depicted going to the market to buy the star some extra-rich milk, sighing, “I've got to put more weight on that boy.”

In later years, Bowie called Schwab his “best friend” and credited her with helping him kick his cocaine addiction in 1970s Berlin.

“Coco was the one person who told me what a fool I was becoming and she made me snap out of it,” he said.

6) He signed off emails with comedy nicknames

Image copyright PA

Producer Brian Eno (pictured above left with Jarvis Cocker and Bowie), who worked on Bowie's legendary Berlin trilogy in the 1970s, said he had been in touch with the singer just a week before his death, discussing new projects.

“Over the last few years – with him living in New York and me in London – our connection was by email,” he told the BBC last year.

“We signed off with invented names: some of his were Mr Showbiz, Milton Keynes, Rhoda Borrocks and the Duke of Ear.

“I received an email from him seven days ago. It was as funny as always, and as surreal, looping through word games and allusions and all the usual stuff we did. It ended with this sentence: 'Thank you for our good times, Brian. they will never rot'. And it was signed 'Dawn'.

“I realise now he was saying goodbye.”

7) Hunky Dory is the fans' favourite Bowie album

Image copyright Columbia Records

In the week Bowie died, 19 of his albums entered the UK chart. Discounting greatest hits compilations and Blackstar (a new release), the record most people turned to was his fourth album, Hunky Dory.

Released in 1971, and featuring the songs Life On Mars, Changes and Oh, You Pretty Things!, it is one of Bowie's most accessible and engaging albums, recorded with the band who would become known as Ziggy Stardust's Spiders From Mars one year later.

Posthumous sales of Hunky Dory were undoubtedly boosted by the song Kooks, which was one of the most widely-shared Bowie songs on social media in the days following his death.

A music hall pastiche, the track finds Bowie musing on fatherhood after the birth of his first son, Zowie. Awkward, warm and funny (not always common qualities in Bowie songs) it includes lyrics like: “Don't pick fights with the bullies or the cads / 'Cause I'm not much cop at punching other people's dads.”

Earlier this week, Hunky Dory was voted Bowie's best album by listeners of BBC 6 Music.

8) His version of My Way is best avoided

In 1968, David Bowie's music publisher had the then-unknown singer write English lyrics for a song that had been a huge hit in France: Claude Franois and Jacques Revaux's Comme d'habitude.

“I went, 'yeah, that'd be a good exercise,'” he recalled, “So I wrote a lyric for it, called Even a Fool Learns to Love”.

Not having a band at the time, Bowie had simply played the Claude Franois song at home and recorded his own version over the top, singing in time to the French lyrics.

But Bowie's words were rejected and Paul Anka got the job instead. His version was called My Way, and it became a global smash for Frank Sinatra.

“I was so pissed,” said Bowie later. “I thought, 'God, I could have done with that money'. And so I wrote Life on Mars, which was sort of a Sinatra-ish parody, but done in a more rock style.”

The demo for Even a Fool Learns to Love was unearthed last year and broadcast for the first time on the BBC Four series The People's History of Pop. It is not, to be brutally honest, worth seeking out.

The story of how it inspired one of Bowie's signature songs can be heard on the Radio 2 documentary Exploring Life On Mars.

9) He gave Lorde the courage to be different

Image copyright Farrell/BFA/REX/Shutterstock

Given the number of musical personas Bowie adopted throughout his 50-year career, it is hard to find an artist he hasn't inspired.

But 20-year-old pop singer Lorde – who performed a tribute to the star at last year's Brit Awards and is pictured above with Bowie and Tilda Swinton – revealed the star personally intervened in her career.

Writing on Facebook, she recalled how Bowie had asked to meet her after she played a concert in honour of Swinton's birthday in 2013.

“I've never met a hero of mine and liked it,” she said. “It just sucks, the pressure is too huge, you can't enjoy it.

“David was different. That night something changed in me – I felt a calmness grow, a sureness.

“I realised I was proud of my spiky strangeness because he had been proud of his. And I know I'm never going to stop learning dances, brand new dances.”

10) He didn't think music would be his legacy

Image copyright PA / Getty / BBC

Francis Whately's documentary, Bowie: The Last Five Years gave fans a rare glimpse of Bowie's sense of humour. He was seen larking around backstage, sticking flashing baubles to his face and attacking his band with a plastic crow.

Towards the end of the film, Whately excavated a rare interview, in which the star was asked what he wanted be remembered for.

“I'd love people to believe,” he said, “That I really had great haircuts.”

Follow us on Facebook, on Twitter @BBCNewsEnts, or on Instagram at bbcnewsents. If you have a story suggestion email [email protected].