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heyitsphoenixx · 3 years ago

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I Wanna Get Better

Chapter One

When Zach Stone’s lifelong goal to get famous is achieved, ten years later he’s still dealing with the consequences.

TW: hard drug use, explicit sexual content (lemon, can’t believe we’re back to this), depression, brief mentions of alcohol and medication. lots of angst.

AO3

Written by @mickeysjones and myself. Gif by @mickeysjones

New update every Saturday at 7pm EST.

Walking was always faster. Walking was cheaper, too. The traffic in LA was ridiculous, the small convenience store was a few blocks away, and walking made more sense than ordering a lift. It took less time to walk, it was pretty out.

He should have called for a car.

While walking back to his small apartment from the convenience store, having bought whatever microwavable meals he found in the small freezer section full of foods that were either already expired, or about to be due to the freezers being very old and in need of maintenance, he saw a group of people.

This wasn't uncommon, people exist in the city, but this specific group was different. They were younger, leaned up against some building he didn't care to know the name of, and they kept glancing up from their phones, whispering to each other as he was about to pass them by.

Again, not uncommon. People exist and they have conversations with each other. This group though, was different.

There were more whispers as he walked by, and finally one of them spoke up a bit louder just as he passed.

"Excuse me?"

Don't stop. Look at the ground. Keep walking.

"Excuse me?" They said it louder that time. He hesitated. "Are you Zach Stone?"

He looked up at the empty sidewalk in front of him, tilted his head, then shook it lightly, never turning back to look at the group of kids behind him.

"No."

Without another word, he continued down the sidewalk towards his apartment.

It was a strange feeling, being recognized. It was something he would have killed to have happen to him 10 years ago. Well, maybe not kill, but close enough to it. He got his wish. He got recognized. Great.

He walked up the steps to a cheap apartment building that felt nothing like home. The stairwell made a horrible noise at all hours, collecting sound from the vents and the outdoors and combining them together to create a melody from hell. The AC worked about 65% of the time, the mailbox was small (not that he was receiving much mail these days anyway), and the neighbors were all either in their 60s or in their 20s and on drugs. A fitting place for him, though. He stood right on the line separating both.

There were no elevators, not that you'd trust them if there were. His apartment was on the 7th floor.

He found himself at the beginning of the endless staircase, his eyes following it up and up until he was risking a neck cramp. He sighed and then began his journey. He'd move one day.

When he finally made it to his apartment, exhausted from the weighted climb, he opened up the door with just enough room to get inside and closed it back, leaving only a few seconds between room transitions. He paused when he got inside, looked around for a second as he struggled to catch his breath, then walked over to the kitchen.

The kitchen and living room were connected, the fridge, the stove, the sink and the cabinets up against the side wall by the door. The couch that seated two, the tv stand that was closed in with a shelf above the actual tv, and the microwave were closer towards the other wall. The stove was small and barely worked, it was more of a fire hazard than an appliance. This was part of the reason why the microwave meals became his best dishes. That and he wasn’t the best chef.

He dropped the two grocery bags on the counter, paused again, then unpacked everything. The first bag had 5 freezer meals, all different in some way, all including a brownie. The second was a bag of dry dog food, and a few cans of wet dog food. Only when the bag of dog food was dropped onto the counter did the clicking paws come running out from the bedroom.

“Alright, alright Doug, calm down, don’t choke on it,” he said, the dog food barely having a chance to hit the bowl before the over-excited German Shepherd was scarfing it down. He put away the remaining groceries while snacking on one of the brownies, then slugged his way over to his bedroom, not bothering to turn on any of the lights as he let himself fall onto his bed.

He hadn’t turned off the ceiling fan before he left, and he stared as his eyes followed the hypnotic rhythm of the blades in the darkness. It was only 7pm and he was already feeling dead tired.

He dragged himself over to his nightstand and got out the small plastic bag. Being careful not to spill any more than needed, he poured a small pile of the white powder onto the table. He took an old credit card from its usual place beside the bag and corralled the powder into a neat, thin line. He pressed a finger against one nostril and inhaled with the other. It wasn’t a necessity, he certainly didn’t need it like he used to anymore, but it kept him awake long enough to live his life normally.

He knew he was depressed, he’d known that for nearly a decade now. He also knew without this remedy he would be asleep all day, every day, for the rest of his life. Medication hadn’t helped, he tried that for a couple years to find it only made him numb, not happy. This didn’t make him happy either, but it pushed away the numbness enough to function, for a while anyway. But he didn’t need it, he was waning himself off of it, actually. There was a time when his body didn’t go a day without the cocaine running through it, for years. Now it was only a couple of times a week, and only when he really needed to function.

He closed the bag and returned it to the nightstand’s drawer, then ran his hands roughly over his face, feeling his nerves start to finally wake up. He walked over to the bathroom and splashed some water on his face, then saw himself in the mirror.

“Jesus,” he sighed.

Dark crescents hung below his bloodshot eyes. His hair and beard were longer than they’d ever been, and he ran his hands through the light brown tendrils falling over his shoulders. He hadn’t cared enough to keep up with any kind of self-maintenance, but it helped keep away anyone who might potentially recognize him. Most of the time, anyway.

*****

The lights of the club were dizzying in their intensity, his already blown out pupils contracting as they flashed their colors over him and the rest of the dance floor. He could feel the bass of the music vibrating in his bones, and if it weren’t for the woman grinding against him, he might not have had the presence of mind to keep himself upright. He had one hand gripped onto her waist while the other held aloft a shot of vodka. She had told him her name, or rather, attempted to shout it over the music, but he hadn’t heard her and he didn’t ask again. He could hardly make out any details of her face, but the way her strapless dress barely contained anything was enough to keep his attention. Her hands moved up his t-shirt to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing herself up against him as she moved her hips to the beat.

“What’s your name?” she shouted up at him. His hand on her waist traveled lower to grip her ass, and he bent down to speak into her ear.

“Is that really what you wanna know, or do you want to get out of here?” he said, and downed his shot.

She looked up at him and he could see the gleam of her smile under the lights. She took his hand from her ass and led him to the restroom.

The stall door was barely closed before their lips crashed together in desperation. He held her close as he opened her up with his tongue, and she eagerly reciprocated. His nervous system was firing on every level, and he thought he might catch fire soon and enjoy it. Her hands quickly threw off his shirt to the floor, a thin trail of spit connecting them as they briefly separated to get it over his head. He returned this time to her neck, noticing now that she had long black hair as he moved it out of the way to taste the sweat on her skin. Her hands gripped his hair and she let out small whimpers as he lapped her up. He moved down her neck to her chest, now on his knees so he wasn’t craning down so severely. His tongue flicked back and forth over her tight dress where her nipple was, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other hand slid up her thigh to tug at the seam. She swiftly pushed the dress down to her high, high heels, and stepped out of it.

He sucked as much of her breast that could fit in his mouth, and his fingers moved from her thigh to work deftly on her clit. Her nails dug into his scalp as his fingers alternated between circular movements and long strokes up and down her folds. She was making no attempts to hold in her pleasure now as her moans echoed around the tile walls of the restroom. She moved her hands down to his neck and led him to stand up again. She rushed to undo his belt and his breathing shallowed as she took out his already hard member, growing at her touch. His hands flew to her waist and he spun her around in one movement. She obliged as she raised herself up to him, steadying herself with her hands flat against the stall door. He easily slid himself inside her, a guttural moan escaping from the back of his throat in relief.

He wasted no time as he moved in quick thrusts, his hands clutching her hips so tightly he wouldn’t be surprised if he left bruises.

“Fuck, yes, yes,” he gasped out, sweat collecting at his furrowed brow. She clenched around him tighter and tighter as her moans raised higher in pitch with each aggressive thrust. His head rolled back on his neck as he struggled for breath. The bright fluorescent light and the sound of skin hitting skin added to the fever pitch he was reaching.

“Oh fuck, yes Amy,” he panted, and she froze. He had hoped she hadn’t heard him, but she clearly had. He didn’t know her name, but he was 99% sure it wasn’t Amy, and as she moved off of him and turned to face him, he realized he guessed correctly.

“Amy?” she said indignantly, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, come on,” he said, still panting. “You thought I could hear you over all that?”

“Right,” she scoffed at him. “Well, you have fun finishing yourself off, because it’s Candace, asshole.”

With that, she stepped back into her dress and tugged it on, walking out of the stall and out of the restroom.

He rolled his eyes and locked the stall again, his forehead on his arm that rested against the door, pants still around his ankles and still fully erect.

“Fuck,” he said dejectedly.

It had been ten years, ten incredibly long years since he’d last seen her, but in all that time he could never manage to get her out of his mind. He didn’t even know what she looked like now, he had purposely kept himself away from anywhere he might find photos of her in an attempt to let himself forget over time. But by the fifth year he had realized that she wasn’t going to leave his thoughts any time soon.

Zach Stone slapped the wall beside him in frustration, then took the advice he was given and turned to finish himself off over the stall toilet.

*****

Zach took the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping over himself as he ran through the building. He weaved his way through students wandering through the halls, apologizing as he lost control of his gangly limbs and caused a girl to drop her textbooks to the floor.

He glanced over the numbers on each door in his desperate search until he finally found the door with the number 23 on it. He knocked about seven times in quick succession before it opened to reveal a grinning Amy Page behind it.

In one movement, Zach cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, her hands coming to rest on his chest as her lips were still stuck in a smile. He suddenly pulled back and threw his fists high in the air.

“I’ve got a TV show! I’m gonna be famous! WOO!” he screamed, not caring who heard him. He bent down to kiss Amy again, and she held in her laughter as she pulled him by his shirt into her dorm room. Once inside, she closed the door, thankful that her roommates were absent.

“Ok, calm down,” she said through laughter. “Tell me again, what did they say?”

Zach had his hands on his hips, clearly trying to contain his excitement and failing.

“I don’t know, they said they got the tapes, and they watched them, and now they want to put them on MTV! Amy, I’m getting a show!” he squealed, open palms out in front of him. She thought that she had never seen him so happy.

“Zach, that’s so amazing, I’m so happy for you!” she said. She wrapped her arms around him and he gripped her tight as he picked her up off the floor for a moment. She looked up at him and felt her cheeks stiffen from smiling so hard.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said softly, and brought him back down to kiss him again, this time slow, deliberate, and full of love. She took her time on him, running her thumb along his cheek as she felt him start to relax. She pulled away enough to see his face had turned completely pink.

“Wow, um, thanks,” said Zach, shy and giggling like a kid.

“So, when does it come out?” she asked, sitting down on her bed.

His hands returned to his hips as he looked like he didn’t know where else to put them, and he shook his head, still reeling.

“They said in like a month they’ll air the pilot, whatever that means,” he said.

Amy couldn’t help letting out a chuckle.

“It means that’s when they put out the first episode,” she explained with a grin.

Zach beamed back at her as he realized, his hands flying to his hair in disbelief.

“I can’t believe this,” he said. “I’m gonna be famous, I’m gonna be actually famous!”

The wonder in his eyes halted in its tracks when his eyes met hers again, and she watched his train of thought switch across his face.

It had been a month since she started school, a month since his interview that got him his first taste of public attention on the local news. He had indeed run out of money to fund the camera crew any more, so he was still working at the grocery store to try to get some of it back, but after that interview, every person in Boston knew who he was, and they had loved him for it. For two weeks.

After two weeks, the attention had died down, which Amy had quietly been thankful for. Of course she was happy to see Zach happy, he had finally gotten what he always wanted, and what she had always wanted for him. But when everyone knew and loved her boyfriend, asking for pictures and autographs (and not all of them in appropriate places), she had begun to feel like she was already losing him. He would visit once a week and hardly ever picked up the phone during that time. Most of what she knew about how he was doing was what she saw on the TV at that point, and she had started to become resentful of the small amount of fame he caught.

Then, when everyone around him knew who he was, the novelty wore off, fast. It had startled Zach how quickly no one cared about him anymore, to the point where he was going up to people and reminding them about his segment on the news. Sometimes, people would film these outbursts of his, which would then put him back on the news, but in a less favorable, less likable light.

This had caused Zach to retreat back into himself, back into Amy, and back to his family and friends, who were all secretly grateful for the turn of fate. Everyone was relieved except Zach, who was absolutely crushed. He wouldn’t get out of his bed for days, and was even in danger of losing his job. Heartbroken to see him like that, Amy had called Greg and suggested they gather what footage Zach had collected over the summer and send it around a few networks. She didn’t actually think it would get picked up, she just wanted to do something nice for him to get him back to his old self again.

Zach looked at her now and remembered what he had promised her when she had shown up to him after that first news story.

“Amy,” he started, sitting down next to her on her bed.

“I don’t need this, really. I know I was awful to you, and I won’t ever let that happen again, but if you don’t want me to do this, I promise I won’t. I don’t need to be famous, I just need to be Amy’s,” he said, taking her hand in his.

Her lips tilted up in a half smile and she looked into his pleading eyes.

“Zach, you know I’m never gonna ask you to not do something you really wanna do. You really want this, right?” she asked.

He took a deep breath, then nodded.

“Yeah, I do,” he admitted.

“Then I want you to do this,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I just want you to be happy.”

He smiled at her, the blush returning.

“Thanks Amy.” He was suddenly shy again.

“Can I, uh… can I tell you something?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course,” she said, mildly confused as to why he was asking. He bit his lip, clearly nervous.

“I… I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me. And I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend to you, but I promise this is gonna be different. I’m gonna call you every day, I’m gonna come here four times a week and you’re gonna be so annoyed that you can’t study as much as you should because I’m here all the time.”

Amy giggled at that, hoping it was true.

“And I’m gonna do it because… I love you. I love you, Amy Page.”

She didn’t need hope to know that was true. He looked at her the same way he had looked at her since they were children, like she had put the sun in the sky.

“I love you too, Zach Stone,” she said.

Zach let out a big breath and pumped his fist.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Can I, can I just-”

Amy held his face as she kissed him, perfectly content to be finally in sync with him once again.

#bo burnham #zach stone #zach stone is gonna be famous #zsigbf

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hahahahahangst · 2 years ago

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En and Xanax (Be The Young 9)

GIANT TW which will be valid for each episode for suicidal thoughts, self-h*rm, violence, cursing, relatives dying, mentions of s*x, **s*xual assault**

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will break canon (mostly from the S2 finale) but will try to get back into it for the sake of ✨ lore ✨ .

Summary: Emily's life used to be normal. Until one day, her family died, leaving behind just one letter.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

MASTERLIST

En and Xanax

SONG

En and Xanax didn’t know each other before a shared panic attack e immediately they went along. She was the daughter of an american who moved to Rome and he was the son of a bitch long retired. If you won’t get scared of my fears one day you’ll tell me yours and we’ll find a way to take them out. [...] Ex and Xanax, when they fought, they could have stopped the traffic on New York Or kill each other through the phone Then she calmed down and he found her naked on chair

When John started to set up all the info he had on the demon on the wall of the motel, Emily could not believe her eyes and how much information he had. There were maps and books, pictures, charts, and articles from newspapers. To see it all like that, their goal looked as close as ever. They found the Colt, they had all of that info: how difficult could it be to find him?

"Dad, when did you collect all of this?" Asked Emily.

"In the last year, since I left. That's when he finally resurfaced for good."

"I thought that happened when I came along."

"That was an isolated episode, but the signs were all there."

"Signs?" Intervened Dean. Emily started flocking through the paper on the desk.

"He's going after families. All houses burned to the ground, six months old children." Explained John.

"Just like you, Sam." Commented Dean. "...and just like Alex." He looked at Emily, who nodded.

"So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me? So Mom's death...Jessica. Is it all because of me?" Asked Sam.

"We have no proof of that, Sam." Said Emily, maybe with a little too much bitterness. Dean looked at her, probably wondering if he should intervene.

"Oh really?" Said Sam, sarcastic. "Because it looks like we are pretty damn sure!"

Emily took a deep breath. "Sure Sam, because the entire hell dimension revolves about your pretty hair." She said, even more sarcastically. She took a pile of newspaper clippings from the desk and put it in his hands. "Just… start reading, would you?" Sam took the paper and tried to mutter something under his breath, but she ignored him. Dean looked at her and if Emily didn’t know better, she would have swore he was holding back a proud smile. She had been going hard on Sam for the previous hours, finding every opportunity to be bitter to him. He was behaving like a child and so she treated him like such.

She was used to nightmares. She had them most nights. But usually, she would dream of something close to her. Her mother, her brother Alex, her old life. This time, it was more confusing and foggy than usual: she saw a man with yellow eyes in a dark room. She heard a baby coo and she saw a woman looking out of a window. Then, everything got clearer. She could smell flowers, just like the ones her mother used to buy. Slowly, she started to feel in pain. In the beginning it was a subtle tingle, but it soon became a stab right at the base of her chest. The man was still looking at her.

She woke up in a panic, sweaty and towered by Dean. She tried to sit down and realized she was on the ground. The pain disappeared with her nightmare and she slowly started to realize where she was. She was traveling towards the nearest city to do some research with Sam and Dean.

“Are you okay?” Asked Dean, helping her sit. The car was still running a handful of feet away from them.

“Yeah, just- just a bad dream I guess.” She wiped her forehead from the sweat and tried to recollect.

“Are you sure?” Asked Sam, who had also appeared next to her, a little too worried for her liking. Dean also seemed overly upset to her.

“Sam, it was just a dream. A bad one, but still a dream.”

He nodded. She slowly made her way back to the car and fell asleep almost immediately.

When they finally got to Iowa, and they walked to the city archives, she was still ignoring Sam. In the previous weeks he had tried several times to apologize, but she had never let him speak more than a couple of words. She sat two tables away from him and started to collect names and names of all kids that fit the criteria of turning six months old soon.

She heard the sound of a rolling chair approaching her and she knew immediately that Sam was trying to apologize to her for the tenth time that week.

“How’s it going?”

“Slow.”

“Listen, I-” Emily cut him out by standing up and putting away the first box of files, taking the second one. He went after her. “Would you let me apologize to you?”

“No.” She said, sternly slamming the box on the table. “I am busy.”

“How long will you hold the grudge against me?”

“Until I say so.”

“Why?” To that question, Emily froze and took a deep breath. She was about to lash out at him, but it was not the right place, nor the right time.

“Because.” She sat back down and went back to her research. Sam had some audacity to think everything could be solved with a simple apology. He went from being her sole ally to going against her for no reason other than their dad being there. Being two-faced was something Emily learnt to not accept as a kid and she was not going to start now.

He would have to do a little more than apologizing to win her trust back.

Later, they were walking back to the car when Sam started clutching his head in pain. It was quick, but Emily gave up her mission of not talking to him and insisted he sat down for a second. She stood over him while he took deep breaths and then, suddenly, took out a map. He started looking at it, intensely. Emily waited for an explanation that never came. Instead, Sam hastily walked back to the car and started driving. After a while, she noticed they were not going to the motel.

“Sam, where are we going?” Asked Emily, worried by the sudden mood change.

“I saw something.” He stated, not giving any additional explanation. He looked and sounded just like their father.

“...and?”

“We need to go there now.” Emily sighed deeply.

"Sam, I swear to god if you don't explain to me what is going on I'll crash the fucking car."

Sam looked at her, surprised as if he was taken out of a trance. He quickly explained to her a vision that looked a little too much like her dream.

"Sam." She said, deadly serious. "Are you sure?" He nodded. "Because that's what I dreamt about this morning…" Emily saw him swallow, nervous, but he didn't answer.

She sat there and quickly texted Dean to let him know their location. Sam stopped the car in a house complex. He looked over to a building and looked back at the map. “God, dad is going to be furious when he hears about this.” Concluded Emily, recognizing the house as being the one from her dream.

Sam weakly smiled and then left the car, going towards a woman who was walking by. Emily followed him, ready to follow whatever fake scenario he had in mind. Sam chatted with the woman: she had a small child, turning six months that exact day. Emily held the baby while Sam and the woman kept chatting, her brother pretending that they had just moved in the neighborhood.

The second the mother mentioned the age of her daughter, it was as if Emily could hear Sam swearing in his head. Eventually, the woman went back into the house and the siblings were left alone with all the questions that the encounter had raised.

“What do you think it’s going on?” Asked Emily, leaning on a trashcan. She would have avoided contact with him very happily, but the situation called for some clarification.

“I wish I could tell you, but I have no idea either.”

Emily stayed silent for a while. “Sam… do you think…?” She had so many questions, none of which, she was sure, Sam could answer. She still was not too sure she wanted to talk to him. But her most pressing question was if this vision had something to do with how their mothers died.

“I don’t really know.” Said Sam. But Emily didn’t speak. Emily didn’t ask anything. She raised her eyebrows. Sam seemed surprised. “What?”

“You don’t know… what?”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t ask anything.”

“Uh- I must have misheard then.” He said, shrugging. They both headed back to the car and Sam drove them back to the motel.

When they got there, John was not happy to hear the news. “When were you planning on telling me about this?” He asked. Emily was leaning on the desk and looked over to Dean, who stood right in front of her. Sam, in the middle of them leaning on a chair, didn’t know what to say. Her dad looked angry, as if they were hiding things from him on purpose. In reality, most of it had just happened.

Dean was the one who finally spoke. “We did not know what it meant.” He sighed deeply. But then, he looked over to Emily. “Are you sure it was the same house?”

“Same house, same baby. I am sure, Dean.” Her brother brushed his face with his hands and sat down on the bed.

“You should have called.” Said John. Emily intercepted Sam about to answer in the worst way possible.

“We did.” Said Emily. “So many times. You could’ve-”

Sam's phone rang at that moment. Emily wasn’t able to continue the argument, because Sam called the caller by name. Meg.

Emily looked at Dean, who looked back at her with at least as much disbelief that came from Sam’s mouth. “Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window.”

A little later, Sam passed his phone to John. Emily sat down next to Dean. She wasn’t able to put together enough of the conversation, but she heard John get progressively angrier and angrier. “I’ll bring you the colt.” He said. Emily stood up immediately, ready to complain, but Dean was faster to intercept her and cover her mouth with his hand, which she bit. He mouthed “ouch” while shaking his hand, but he let her go. John hung up the phone.

“Dad, you cannot give her the gun!” Protested Emily. Dean scowled at her, but did not try to stop her again, nor did he complain.

“She’s got Caleb. She’s killing all of our hunter friends just to get to us.” Said John, ignoring Emily’s words.

“Do you think she’s possessed?” Said Sam, nervous.

“I think so.”

“What do we do?”

“I’m going to Lincoln.” Said John, turning to pack. “If I don’t, a lot of people will die.”

“Dad, the demon will be here tonight.” Repeated Emily. “That gun is everything we have!”

“Don’t worry.” Said their dad, in a tone that was all but comforting. “No one really knows what it looks like. We can buy some time.”

“That’s too dangerous.” Said Dean. Finally he decided to side with someone, thought Emily. “She will notice, she is not stupid.” Continued Dean.

“It will get us a few hours.”

“For what?”

“For you. You guys will kill the demon. This ends tonight.” His voice was apocalyptic, stern and cold. Emily’s guts contorted in fear.

It was not a long time later that he had left, hastily. Only Emily, Sam and Dean were left to deal with the fight they had been preparing for years.

Dean frantically prepared his bag. Sam paced back and forth with a book in his hands. Emily, instead, was still sitting on the couch, nervously tapping her fingers on her knee. It took a while for Dean to realize she was weirdly staring in front of her, lost in an emptiness of thought.

“Are you alright?”

“I guess.”

“This is the day, Emily. You get to go back to your Grey’s Anatomy life.” “Yeah…” She said, her gaze lost in front of her.

“You don’t look overly excited as I thought you would.”

“Dean, what would I go back to? Two years of unpaid bills and a dead family.”

“I don’t know, I just thought you would have jumped at the chance of getting rid of us.” She finally moved her gaze from an indefinite point in front of her to Dean’s eyes. Just looking at him made her feel a little angry, thinking of all the times they had fought and all the times he ignored her silent help requests. All the times he had the chance of being a brother and he wasn’t. But the reality was that she knew perfectly well she had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. The main problem was she actually felt some attachment to him. She could ignore it and hide it but her instinctive reaction of hugging him when he came back from the hunt was the irrefutable proof. She just wished things were different, the situation less tense, the fights less frequent and less destructive. “I really think you should go back.” Said Sam. Of course he was keen on getting rid of her. At least Dean had the decency of pretending. “You can always rebuild.”

“Sam, be realistic for a second. I have 12 dollars to my name, everybody in Portland probably thinks I am dead, I don’t have a home, I-”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Of course, nothing is that big a deal, you surely have it worse.” She rolled her eyes, sarcastic and stood up. “Listen, I understand what you are saying. I could rebuild, I could move cities and pretend none of this happened. But it will catch up to me. One day, I will be watching the news and I will see the signs of a ghost Infestation, demon possession and what will I do then? Ignore it?”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“Living the rest of my life scared, on edge? No, absolutely not.”

“What about prom dances, lemon beer and sunset walk?” Said Dean, still busy. “You seemed to want those back pretty badly last time we talked about this.”

Emily walked to the fridge and took out a three pack of lemon beer. He offered one to Sam. He shrugged and accepted. It was a peace offering more than anything else. Dean, instead, was reluctant.

“What?” Asked Emily, using the table to open her bottle.

“This is… lemon beer” he said, a hint of disgust in his voice. “It's basically kids’ juice.”

Emily shook the beer in front of Dean’s face. “We might die tonight, and you are refusing what might be our last beer together?”

"Are you using the 'my last night on earth' pickup line on me?" They smiled.

He finally started drinking. Emily sat back down next to him.

“I don’t really think I should go back right now. In the future, maybe, but now…” She said, tapping the bottom of the beer bottle on her knee repeatedly.

“Emily?” said Dean a while later after finishing the beer. She answered with an absent “uh?” “Is this your weird, bitch way of saying you love us?” Dean had a hint of mocking in his voice. “Don’t let it go over your head” she said, avoiding his gaze and finally starting to get ready to leave.

“We should be there with dad.” Dean was the first one to break the silence. They were sitting in their car in front of Monica’s house, where they knew the demon would strike. Emily didn’t dare answer him. They had one hint of affectionate interaction earlier and she didn’t want to burst the bubble to herself. She looked at her brothers and realized that might have been the last time she ever saw them alive. The demon was not playing around and when he struck, he struck hard.

“Dean, listen: if something happens, ple-”

“Don’t you give me that. No one is dying tonight.” He cut her off.

“Dean, she is not wrong.” Said Sam.

“Yes, she is. And you are too for standing on that side. We need to be focused right now.”

Emily was about to argue back, but just that second, the radio started to sound static and the lights in the house started to flicker. The siblings stumbled out of the car and ran towards the house. They broke in, but were quickly intercepted by Monica’s husband. He attacked Dean and Sam, but Emily was smaller and able to get through them, in the living room and up the stairs. She heard her brothers argue with the man, who was calling for his wife. Emily tried to stop her, but the woman fought her away, almost throwing her down the stairs.

Emily managed to get back and saw the demon standing in front of the crib, just like in her dream. She urgently called Dean’s name. The man temporarily got rid of the husband, rummaging in his pocket. He tried to get up the stairs but Monica’s husband attacked him again. While fighting him away, Dean suggestively gazed at Emily and managed to toss her the Colt.

When she grabbed the gun, she felt a rush of adrenaline go through her whole body. She knew that she only had one shot. Her hand slipped on the safety trigger twice before she was able to grip it correctly and point towards the man. She made sure she was aiming correctly.

Then, it was as if everything moved in slow-motion. She fired, and the bullet moved towards the demon. But as soon as it was supposed to hit, the man disappeared into smoke. It took a couple of seconds to realize that she missed.

She missed.

She had one chance and she blew it.

She froze in place as Sam pushed her over and grabbed the newborn from the crib. She heard Dean call her name, but she didn’t move. She stared at the point where the demon had vanished, contemplating the idea of staying there and just let herself die. “Emily, now is not the time to panic!” She heard her brother screaming. A couple of seconds later, Dean grabbed her by the arm and shoved her towards the exit.

When they were outside, she covered her ears as the room exploded behind them. Dean was next to her, handing the baby back to her mother. He turned around when Emily grabbed his jacket at elbow height. All around them was chaos, fire fighters flowing in as well as the whole neighborhood started to come out to see what was happening, but the second Emily finally got Dean’s attention, everything went silent for a second. “I missed, Dean.” Was all she could say. She started shaking. She looked at her hand, unable to keep it steady. She felt the panic attack overwhelm her without being able to do anything about it. She felt Dean’s leather jacket slip away from her grip as Sam tried to re-enter the burning house. She stared at the flames. They danced and destroyed everything they touched. They would have destroyed Sam as well. Emily quickly got rid of the thought. They would have destroyed her as well. After all, she missed her shot. Some things are not easily forgiven. That was one of them. She managed to walk so close to the house, nobody even noticing, that she could see the flowers on the wallpaper slowly dissolving in the flames and all the plastic toys on the floor melt one by one. She imagined being one of them, slowly letting herself move closer and closer to the burning house.

“If Emily didn’t miss-” Four words that managed to pierce through the veil of panic and despair she currently was in, were all Emily needed to finally react. Suddenly, her thought shifted again: it was not her who should have gone into the flames, it was him. If he wasn’t like he was, if he did not behave like he did, maybe… Yes, it was his fault, the constant fighting, the mocking, they made it clear. The fake apologies, how he pretended to care when she was sick, it was all an act. None of it was real. All he cared about was vengeance.Her body moved automatically, unconsciously. She divided Sam and Dean, who were still fighting, and immediately tried to push Sam to the ground. However, her arms were too shaky, her body too overwhelmed to actually succeed. She tried again. Sam looked at her and mocked her: “No wonder you can’t pull a trigger right, you don’t even have the strength to push me.” She answered with a punch. The contact of her fist on his cheek made her shiver. She had punched people before, but her body was not strong enough at the moment. However, she did it again, this time harder. He finally lost his balance and hit the ground. Dean attempted to stop her, but she hit him in his stomach with her elbow and effectively slowed him down. Soon, she was free of his grip and redirected her anger on Sam.

The first thing she did was punch him a third time. This time, she felt the bones of his nose give up. It sent another shiver down her spine, but she was trembling so much that it made no difference.

“Say to my face!” She screamed, ready to hit him again. “SAY IT TO MY FUCKING FACE!” By the time she screamed that, Dean grabbed her again. This time, she was not able to get free and had to deal with being dragged away, scowling at Sam. In the meantime, Sam had stood up, the nosebleed staining his shirt.

“What exactly is your problem?” He asked, touching his nose, in pain. Emily tried to free herself from Dean again, but the only thing she achieved was that he held her back even tighter, to the point it was actually painful. All that time, she had been shaking and crying and it didn’t matter how much she screamed, there was nothing that made her feel better, nothing that relieved the tension that had built up in her body.

When Dean dragged her and had her sit in the car and started driving, she was still shaking, exhausted. She leaned forward, putting her head on the dashboard. She weakly punched it. She had no strength left in her arms. But she had plenty of air left in her lungs. So she screamed. Suddenly, she felt Dean grab her by the hair and force her upright. “Stop!” He said, while he kept driving with his left hand. “Stop screaming! I get it, you are not okay! Just… stop!” She scowled at him, but stopped screaming. She kept crying, still visibly shaking, until Dean finally stopped the car. He told her to wait there.

In the dark of the night, she clearly distinguished Bobby’s lot. He saw the light turn on in the house. Few minutes later, she was inside. She did not wait for any explanations and went straight to what had been, in the last two years, her room whenever she would stay there. She had left there some books to read and some clothes.

She tried to act like nothing happened: she stripped away her sweaty clothes and took clean ones. Her mind blacked out for several minutes as she stared at the clean clothes, in nothing but her underwear. She stood there, nothing going on in her mind if not the natural reaction of crying and shaking. When she regained half consciousness, she tried to wear the clothes she was holding, but her hands were too shaky, too weak. The clothes fell.

She tried to reach for them but when she leaned forward, she almost fell, immediately getting dizzy.

So she sat down on the bed and finally reached for the clothes. She tried to separate the two layers of fabric, but she could not get her hands to be steady enough. That’s the pathetic state Dean found her when he arrived in the room.

Naked, about to throw up and unable to keep her hands still.

“What are you doing?” He said, interrogatively watching her aggressively clutching the fabric in order to divide it.

“I CAN'T GET TO WEAR THIS FUCKING T-SHIRT!” She screamed, throwing the shirt at him. She leaned forward and kept crying.

Dean sighed. He gathered the now covered in dust t-shirt from the floor and looked at it.

“Alright, come here.” Emily didn’t answer him. “Emily, come here!” He insisted. She looked at him, stood up. He was about to talk when she lept in the corner of the room and threw up in the trash can next to him. “Great…” She heard him whisper. He got out a toilet paper roll from somewhere and offered it to her. She cleaned her face and stood back up. She was about to go back on the bed, but Dean stopped her right in front of him. She looked at the floor. “Let me help you, would you?”

What followed was a series of events that made Emily feel humiliated and ashamed. She could not function by herself. Dean took her and had her walk in the bathroom. She sat in the shower in her underwear as he cleaned the sweat and the dirt and the ash from her body. She gazed over to him, he looked slightly pissed but he was doing it nonetheless. “Dean, you don’t have to do this.”

“Yes I do.” She kept looking at him, looking for a single muscle of his face that could tell her he was not helping her out of pity. She could not find it. When she got out of the shower, water dripping all over the floor, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were all puffed up from all the crying, but somewhere through the shower she stopped crying. Dean threw a t-shirt over her head and helped her fit her shaking hands through the sleeves. Emily felt like a baby, needing help to get dressed, but it was either that or lie naked on the floor. Humiliated, she sat back on the bed and kept crying.

“Dean, just leave.” She said, leaning on the wall behind the mattress.

“Trust me, I would love to leave. But I am not going to until you feel better.”

“You might be here a long time.”

“Let the world go to waste.” he joked. She tried to smile but the tension in her muscles didn’t allow her to. “Listen, you cannot hunt if you are going to lash out like this.” He leaned on the door. “Why don’t you stay here for a while, recharge, get back to being a bitter bitch who stabs shapeshifters that look like me without blinking and then we’ll come and get you?”

She nodded. Not because she liked it or because she agreed, but because she knew she was not in any position to complain. Also she wanted him to leave her alone as soon as possible.

“Do I have to tuck you in?” He said. She looked at him and started to mess with the covers, angrily muttering something. “Good god, I am kidding,” he said, while walking towards her and actually helping her properly lay down. “...here.” He said, putting a water bottle on the floor next to the bed. “Alcohol didn’t work too well last time.” Emily had finally stopped shaking. She felt her body go back to its regular functions. Dean's face had also changed from last time she looked at him. He didn't look pissed anymore: instead, he looked apprehensive, almost caring. He stood there, leaning on the door, until she fell asleep.

When she woke up, however, she was all alone.

#spn fic #supernatural #sister!winchester #oc #dean winchester #sam winchester #oc!sister winchester #sister winchester fic #sister!readerxdean #sister!reader #be the young #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural angst #supernatural sister fic #spn #spn fanfic #ao3 #supernatural a03 fanfict #sister fic

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ruby-whistler · 3 years ago

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The "redemption questionnaire" - the survey results.

Hello! Welcome back to the results of this survey, which is now closed - I really didn’t expect this amount of interest and am thankful for the ability to collect this much data on the subject.

Now, the reason I made this survey in the first place was this post crossing my dash. It talks about people wanting to see characters or people who they dislike suffer, even if healing is completely possible or even the better option - it’s about people denying that there is such a thing as bad people “deserving” things that we humans need to function, such as being loved.

This post talks about fictional characters, but despite that fact, it made me lose my faith in humanity just a bit. I am a pretty cynical person, but I also consider myself quite empathetic to existing and fictional people alike.

So, I got curious, and wondered - in the Dream SMP fandom specifically, is there a way to get input as to what people actually think about the issue of redemption?

[ tw for brief mentions of torture and abuse ]

So, the goal of the survey was get information to answer certain questions;

Do people think that some characters shouldn’t be redeemed or are irredeemable because of their actions, however don’t hold this true for others?

Are there people, who despite disliking certain characters, still believe that they deserve healing?

Would people want characters to suffer or even die for their actions rather than heal and be happy?

Do people think certain characters in the story don’t deserve to be happy?

Now, I did get some responses that were asking to include or exclude certain characters from the main three (Quackity, Dream and Wilbur - all names are talking about the characters only), however there was a very specific reason I chose these people.

Quackity and Dream have both done actions that have similar weight, while Wilbur serves as an outlier; someone who hurt people in more indirect, but still impactful ways. All three of them have been hurt - Wilbur mostly by Eret’s betrayal, Quackity by Schlatt and others, and Dream by Sam and Quackity. All three have contributed to a toxic and harmful environment, which in turn hurt them back even more and drove them deeper into becoming destructive.

Such a comparison between them would test the fandom’s ability to separate their feelings from in-story morality, as well as bring double standards to light.

Let’s see the demographic part of the survey first, as to see what we are working with;

Of the 390 people partaking in the survey, 44.9% like the direction the Dream SMP plot is heading at the moment, 3% do not and 52.1% are not sure.

Of the characters whose redemption arcs are most anticipated, 71% of participants are expecting a BadBoyHalo or Eggpire redemption arc, Niki/Jack and Wilbur coming close in second and third with 59.2% and 51.8% respectively. As for the main trio of this survey, Quackity lands with 28.2%, Dream with 43.3% and Wilbur with 51.8% of participants thinking a redemption arc for them is likely in the near future.

I would like to express right now that the characters included in the “possible redemption” section do not in any way, shape or form reflect on what I personally think about the characters. I don’t think certain characters need a redemption arc, however I left in the option in order to let people pick it if they wish to do so.

As for the healing arc question, quite understandably, Tommy and Tubbo are the characters most expected to get a healing arc in the upcoming storylines, sitting at 76.2% of participants. Niki and/or Jack come in second with 62.1%, and Quackity, Wilbur and Dream land at 25.4%, 45.9% and 42.8% respectively.

For the aforementioned questions, 3.6% or participants thought none of the Dream SMP characters would get a redemption arc, and 5.4% thought none of them would heal - and with the track record the story has so far, I honestly cannot blame them.

Now we move more towards the main trio;

48.7% of participants have positive feelings towards Quackity’s character, and 23.1% have negative ones. The majority of the participants (66.2%) think that his actions are intentional and hurtful, but interestingly enough, only 25.4% say they find them inexcusable and awful.

For c!Dream, 51.5% feel positively towards him and 35.7% do negatively. Luckily, 53.8% find his actions inexcusable and awful, while 40.3% find them intentional and hurtful.

c!Wilbur breaks the trend with 58.7% of people feeling positively towards the character and only 17.2% feeling negatively, however such a discrepancy can be expected when we compare his actions (found 65.1% of the time to be intentional and hurtful).

I want to preface this next section by saying that I have nothing against people who find redemption arcs unappealing, or wouldn’t find them narratively appealing in the specific story. These answers will be counted as merely neutral ground in the upcoming questions; you are completely valid if you think certain character arcs would not fit the themes or style of storytelling, or if you want bad people to stay bad for the sake of conflict.

However, 79.5% of people find well-done redemption and healing very appealing within the story, and 19% like it for certain stories and characters, so this shouldn’t impact the results on a large scale.

1. Do people think that some characters shouldn’t be redeemed or are irredeemable because of their actions, however don’t hold this true for others?

People’s reasoning for not wanting characters to heal varies, however the contrast between c!Quackity and c!Dream in this scenario is very intriguing.

Despite the two having done comparably disgusting things, one with more and one with less selfish reasons but neither excusable, both classifying under abuse, the people who think c!Dream shouldn’t get a redemption arc (9.7%) because of his actions greatly overshadow the people who think c!Quackity doesn’t deserve a redemption arc (1%) because of his actions. Hell, even c!Wilbur’s percentage is higher, sitting at 2.1%.

This is extremely surprising considering the demographic - and seems to hint at the fact that people who think positively of c!Dream are far more likely to think that c!Q and c!Wil deserve redemption and healing (despite the common argument that both have hurt him greatly) than it is the other way around.

Even sending a bad message is a lot higher with c!Dream (30.5%), despite the fact that c!Quackity’s actions and him as a character could be similarly triggering, and he himself sits at 2.6% of participants. Of course, this question could be partially taken as what he went through in prison making him better, which would definitely be a bad message to send, but considering the percentage (42.1%) of people who don’t want Dream to be redeemed, that’s still insanely high.

Overall, people from a very balanced demographic of people who are positive and negative towards the three characters, only 52.6% want Dream redeemed as opposed to the 83.8% with Quackity and 86.7% with Wilbur - and the reasons given seem to be largely based on bias and double standard, or even hypocritical in context.

For the fandom, this question’s answer seems to be yes, although from the people who are c!Dream positive, this sort of thinking seems to be of a much lesser extent and amount towards characters they dislike.

2. Are there people, who despite disliking certain characters, still believe that they deserve healing?

Let’s look at some of the comments given to this answer;

“On the one hand I do want Dream to recognize that his actions have hurt people, but I really don’t want torture to have ‘made him better’ or for the people he hurt to have to forgive him.”

“as much as I hate c!quackity and dislike c!wilbur, I believe that evil is not something you are, its what you do and as such I think every person deserves to heal and grow.”

“Quackity is the closest - he's spiraled far, but we got to see some of what he could be as a more moral man. Dream's arc would be....incredibly difficult to pull off, and while everyone deserves a chance to change, not everyone who does is ever owed forgiveness. And Wilbur....I dont know what would make him want to get better, but I want him to.”

“I wouldn’t like some of these characters to get redeemed(c!Quackity), but I know everyone deserves a chance at redemption because no one is mentally stable and not traumatized.”

“bastard men. on a serious note ive noticed a lot of evil in dsmp come from the perpetuation of the cycle of revenge and punitive punishment and i think excluding someone from them would. just not be a good message. and yeah c!dreams motives and methods being seen in separate characters is just proof of this - nothing that made any of these men villains are unique to them, and they are all shit-infested holes other characters can fall in.”

“i think every character on the smp has done horrible things and is morally grey, but i think everyone deserves the chance and the ability to heal and try to be better.”

“listen, i love big q, and i know he doesn't mean it, Wilbur also deserves better (far from tommy tho, they're not good for each other rn) and dream can go f**k himself, the only "healing " Arc that would ever make sense is if he escapes the prison and f**ks off to the middle of nowhere (wich is unlikely)”

“Even if I don't like some of the characters they deserve a chance at healing and moving on”

“Controversial opinion but Wilbur has been pretty shady from the start, so a redemption/healing arc just wouldn't make sense to me. He antagonized Dream to sell drugs.”

“i would like to qualify all my answers towards redemption as that they are /all/ allowed to get better, just not necessarily near those they've hurt. those they've hurt are under no obligation to forgive them or be involved in that.”

“REDEMPTION IS POG F**K IT EVERYONE GETS REDEEMED THE ONLY BIG BAD THAT EXISTS IS SYSTEMIC”

“Clarifying about my wilbur answers. A character can only get a redemption if he wants to change. Wilbur doesn’t want to change. I still think he deserves to heal but not to be redeemed. Those are two very seperate things”

“PLEASE JUST LET THEM GET HELP. ALL OF THEM.”

“i'm at sort of an impasse with c!quackity & c!wilbur. i don't like c!quackity in the slightest. i think he has great potential for a redemption arc, but i probably wouldn't be interested in watching it. on the other hand, with c!wilbur, i actually would watch his redemption arc, but i don't see it happening any time soon.”

“I answered " he deserves to heal and get better despite the actions he's commited; everyone deserves to heal and get better " for c!Wilbur but I partially Disagree with the "Everyone deserves to heal and get better" part. simply because some characters are irredeamable eg : c!dream”

“If c!Wilbur gets a redemption arc (I hope he does) I really hope it comes with learning that ethnostates and nationalism are not poggers. I'd be worried about the message it would send if he didn't learn that & it only focused on interpersonal stuff instead.”

“maybe a bit weird that i want c!dream to have a redemption arc but not c!q or c!wilbur, but hear me out. c!dream is being tortured in pandoras vault and we all know (no matter what the c!dream antis say) no one deserves torture. we have something to sympathize with with c!dream. with c!q and c!wilbur, i cant think of anything to sympathize with …. im not trying to say that c!dream is better than them, or that he didnt do bad things, but i sympathize with him much more than i do with c!q and c!wilbur because q and wilbur caused their own problems while a lot of dreams problems come from other people”

“We have both seen Wilbur and Quackity be relatively good people, or at the very least morally Gray people who had genuine love and care to those close to them. While with Dream we have never seen that, as he has always been focused on chaos, fun, and power.”

“I just want everyone to be happy and get along. C!Wilbur to get his problems fixed. C!Quackity to be happy and not have to worry about being the next c!Schlatt. C!Dream to finally tell us his side of the story and potentially join the syndicate?”

“Redemption isnt something any one can say is deserved or not”

“For me the main difference is thay wilbur and quackity (although having done bad things) did them out of grief or bc they felt like it was the only thing they could do for a sense of security (both after they lost something important to them). Dream on the other hand went out of his way and hurt others maliciously when he DIDNT have to or there were other less horrible/long-lasting actions he could done”

“The message that some people dont deserve to learn and grow from their past mistakes is harmful”

“listen.. i really hate c!quackity and c!wilbur right now so.. erm..in emotionally, i don't want them to have redemption arc because i hate them..BUT by using my brain i know that is a stupid excuse, everyone deserve redemption so..yeah sorry if it confusing you but honestly..the reason i hate them so much is probably because of the arc they on so..give them time and i think i will say i welcome their redemption arc with an open arm”

“i answered twice for dream because i have mixed feelings, while i think he is an atrocious person, i believe personally that forgoing forgiveness from others, he deserves to be happy and healthy and heal. hes clearly got issues of his own, and while it doesnt excuse his actions he also deserves the basic right to heal”

“I personally regard redemption as the act of simply becoming a better person, seperate from whether or not they are accepted or forgiven by their victims. With that definition, I think there is no being "deserving" of a redemption arc, it's something that everyone is entitled to if they chose to. Therefore, everyone, and I mean everyone, in as something as morally gray as the Dream SMP is capable of becoming a better person. It doesn't mean they get rewarded or forgiven for it, it just means they are capable of change and are able to fulfil character potential beyond being a villain.”

It seems to me like there definitely are a lot of people in each side of the spectrum, so this test seems to have come back positive; however, there are more questions that we have yet to answer.

3. Would people want characters to suffer or even die for their actions rather than heal and be happy?

Here is probably a good place to mention this questionnaire was more of a psychological experiment than a survey. Most of the answers were specifically designed and in such an order that would get your mind thinking about certain things before shoving your psyche into a difficult question.

Well, here comes the moment of truth; what sort of redemption arc do people prefer? Would they rather the character get better and reap the “rewards” (which are actually simply things every human being needs and deserves; love and happiness), atone for their actions but not get to be happy, or would they like them to suffer or be punished instead? Do people really treat basic human needs as “rewards” for being a good person; or are they only reserved for characters that were never bad people in the first place? Remember; all of these characters have inarguably gone through pain during their life. Just how much do people enjoy punitive justice, and should I literally just stick to my corner of the fandom for my own good?

The answer probably won’t surprise you!

Starting off, 82.8% want a happy or neutral ending for Quackity, 59.4% of which think he should experience good things in the end. 54.4% of participants want a happy or neutral ending for Dream, 62.7% of which think it should lead to him being happy and loved. 89.2% of people want a happy or neutral ending for Wilbur, 49.4% of which lean towards happiness over closure.

17.2% of participants would prefer Quackity to experience pain as part of his redemption arc. 8.5% want him to be mentally tormented by the weight of his own actions, and 5.6% think he should be punished before being allowed to get better.

For Dream, these percentages are way higher- and here is the funny thing, I thought that pretty much no one would say he should suffer before healing, because he’s already suffering for his actions indirectly by being abused by people who hate him for them. However, 7.2% of people think he has yet to be punished enough for his crimes in order to deserve being redeemed. 21.5% want him to suffer under the weight of his own actions, and 6.9% would want him to die instead of getting a happy ending. Overall, 45.6% would prefer a redemption arc for Dream in which he is subjected to pain or punishment.

10.8% of participants would want Wilbur to have a more difficult character arc, with the percentages pretty evenly divided between the options.

4. Do people think certain characters in the story don’t deserve to be happy?

“Deserving” basic human needs, or not deserving them for being bad people/being bad people in the past, is something I don’t personally agree with, however this is tumblr, not thought police, so let’s just look at the survey results.

While 68.5% of participants believe all of the characters in the story deserve to be loved and happy, only 66.2% think Wilbur does, 61.5% think Quackity does, and 38.5% think Dream does.

Let’s look at some closing thoughts on the subject as a closing note;

“I want everyone to have a sort of personal redemption. Where they realize they have hurt people. But I think it’s difficult. I mean Dream abused a child. Quackity tortured Dream relentlessly. I think the redemption arc that is the easiest is one for Wilbur because of cc!wilburs acting and emphasis on his characters mental health. But I think Wilburs also done so much f**ked up shit too. I think it’s difficult. I just think the redemption arcs are really really difficult.”

“i genuinely can't help myself, i want everyone to have the chance to be better.”

“i think that wilbur, quackity and sam should be redeemed because we as an audience know that they all believe they're doing the right thing and regret/didn't enjoy hurting people with their actions. but with c!dream, there's a lot more evidence that he knew what he was doing wrong and actively enjoyed doing it.”

“everybody deserves to heal. if someone wants to be better and strives to be better, who is anyone to deprive them of that?”

“I don’t like some of these characters and their actions, but everyone deserves a chance to heal. To work through their trauma.”

“dream doesn’t deserve shit, quackitys probably gonna keep riding the las nevadas train until it crashes and burns and wilbur should move on from being “the villain” and stop seeing everything as black and white”

“No one is beyond deserving help. That's not how the world works and that's not what the story should show in my opinion.”

“narratively, i want redemption and happy endings for all characters but morally, i really despise some of them and i'm also really conflicted about some of them as well”

“I want my faves to be better and I think it's the best possible option for everyone involved, even the characters they've hurt.”

“c!wilbur and c!quackity go to therapy. c!dream get hit by another train /hj”

“Hurt people hurt people. If given a chance to distance yourself from your victims and abusers, if given a safe environment with a support network of people you haven't formerly harmed, you can then heal and let the others heal. Live and let live, but living is harder for everyone when we don't give others the chances they need to grow and change themselves.”

“all of them deserve to find growth and happiness but under no circumstances are those who have been hurt by them obligated to be involved in any aspect of that arc. most obvious example- c!dream is allowed to grow and realize that what he's done is awful, but c!tommy is not obligated to forgive him or even be near him.”

“They can all improve and get better and be better people …. They all deserve a chance to be better and be happy. However. Wilbur and dream should get their "redemption" arcs away from esp. Tommy and all the other people they hurt. Big Q. should get his redemption arc away from Dream and stuff. If the prison was less focused on detainment and more focused on rehabilitation and then Dream had no contact with Tommy for example that's a scenario that I'd like.”

“is quackity actually considered a villain in this story? What has he done wrong lol Create a casino? be emotionally manipulated? have rejection sensitive dysphoria? I don't think he's a good person based on his current actions but i don't think hes a villain. I think he's trying hard to become something hes not. … I hate c!dream and I don't think he can ever get better. hes a manipulator gaslight gatekeep girlboss and i think he deserves to stay in prison and rot. watching the tommy exile arc would make me so angry that i had to stop watching.”

“i'm so CONFLICTED about this! i want the angst, but god the angst has been going on for a LONG time. honestly, i think the conclusion i would be happiest with would be for c!dream, c!quackity, c!sam, c!tommy, and c!wilbur to calm down, get some therapy, and stay VERY FAR AWAY FROM EACH OTHER. god damn, it's like they WANT to get more traumatized,,”

“the loathing i feel directed at c!dream specifically is so goddamn strong. my god i hate that guy. uhhh regarding quackity no i dont feel like he shouldnt feel ANY pain or anything hes done some f**ked up stuff but i mean..? with the exception of the torture hes the most redeemable guy up there for me which is probably because we have seen his entire downward spiral.”

“I have to admit that although I strongly believe no one on the Dream SMP deserves to be tormented and deprived of their healing and happiness, I feel really icky about c!Quackity. I really hope that the ccs find a way to make his redemption logical and satisfying to watch. If that is not the case, I will still welcome it with open arms, but secretly I will be a little bit salty about it.”

“For the last question bit there i wanted to check more then once because i want them all to feel guilty and tormented for what they have done.”

“Yknow.... basic human rights... to be happy and loved isn't something that should be deserved it should be something that everyone is allowed to obtain for themselves and it shouldn't be allowed it should just be…”

“While i think that all of the characters should the chance to get redemption and healing, I’d probably be less likely to watch redemption arcs from c!Quackity and c!Wilbur than c!Dream, just because I dislike them. Not to say that they shouldn’t get them, because I hope they do, I’m just more like to be going “Good for them” in the distance.”

“I JUST WANT THEM ALL TO BE HAPPY PLEASEEEEEEEE -dr3”

“for the final question it doesnt provide a none of the above option or a some of the characters but not all option. since I dont think c!Dream deserves to be happy and loved but I do the other two (to some degree) but answering "all of the characters .. " I feel Includes c!dream who I ultimately just really hate and want to have nothing but a fictional death!”

“therapy. therapy for everyone.”

“f**k c!dream <3 i honestly don’t think people who abuse kids (or anyone) for fun should ever be redeemed i think they should just rot in a hole somewhere”

“It would be hypocritical to say that one character deserves redemption more than another, especially considering they've all done (almost equally) horrible things. Either everyone deserves redemption, or no one does.”

Conclusion: in the end, this is all the ways in which we like to enjoy fiction. However, for some completely unrelated reason, I am now about 45.6% less likely to attempt to interact with anyone outside my immediate group of friends in the fandom.

Thank you for reading!

#dream smp #dsmp fandom critical #tw abuse ment #tw torture ment

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mendesbadrepuation · 4 years ago

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Bachata // Sebastian Stan

Once again TikTok has inspired me and inspired this little one shot/imagine/pov. Whatever you prefer to call it. I decided to post this one because I simply knew it would sit around in my drafts collecting vast amounts of mold and dust. I had lots and lots of fun with writing this. I did a little research on this dance and even found a song. Hope everyone enjoys :)

Bachata is a form of dancing. Very sexy and very intimate at times.

Background: Y/n is a famous actress learning a new dance for a scene in her movie. Her co-star Sebastian Stan is her partner learning just as much as she is. They might even learn something else along the way. Feelings perhaps?

tw- not any that I can think of. loads of fluff and vast amounts of fun!

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“Alright you two! Get warmed up and comfortable.” Our dance instructor informs us as the music begins blasting through the studio. I make sure my heels are strapped in and I look up at Sebastian. Today he had on black basketball shorts with a graphic white tee. There was this obvious scruff across his chin and jawline. It really brought out all his features.

He was walking towards me in a funny way. His arms and legs were throwing out into this strange dance move. When your characters are professional dancers and your person playing them are not. This is what happens. I start to lightly laugh and walk towards him to the beat of the music. Our instructor has us do this everyday before we rehearse our big dance scene. It helps us get comfortable with one another and shake whatever maybe in our minds from that day away. It was a good coaching technique if you ask me.

We join our hands together at the drop of the beat. We don’t follow our steps and just dance how we like. It was fun and that’s what made this entire experience a little better. I focus on making light steps with my heels so it looks more elegant as the instructor would say. She’s also the entire choreographer for this movie so she knew a thing or two. Part of me was also focusing on not falling on my face every step I took. I was never use to wearing heels in general. Now I was being pushed to dance in them. This instructor has pushed me in ways I never knew before.

“This a new top?” Sebastian asks as he pulls me into his chest. They press together and I sway my hips to the beat. One of his hands goes to my waist guiding them towards his thigh.

“Yeah. You like it?” I look up into his eyes as our faces were inches apart. He grins at me when our eyes lock. All I had on was a simple cropped spaghetti strap tank. It was this mint green kind of color. A new color for me.

“Cute.” He replies making my face red. Sebastian made it his goal to make me blush everyday. I don’t know how it became this game for him but it did. Sometimes he didn’t even have to try. He’d simply look at me a certain way and my face was red as a tomato.

However, being in these close situations it helped for him to lighten the mood. He done that very often. Especially when I would get frustrated with a certain move I had trouble getting down. We really bonded through this film and all that has came with it. I was excited to learn this new dance and tell all my friends I can. Of course they would get to see it on screen when the film comes out.

“Okay! Get into your first positions and let’s start at the beginning and work our way into where we left off yesterday.” The instructor commands us. We step away from each other and go to our designated positions. We stand on each side of the studio across from each other. I lean my back against the mirror in the way the instructor told me to. Sebastian had one leg propped against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Our characters were designated to be in the beautiful city of Italy. Seb and I were excited to film there when the time came. Which was coming soon. Our special dance scene was coming together and before we knew it we’d be ready to fully put it together. We had two more parts to get down. The finale was suppose to make people cry apparently. That is if we do our jobs right. Which I had faith in Sebastian and I. We’ve worked so hard for this film.

The song begins to play. *Promise Romeo Santos (ft. Usher)*

I push off the wall and seductively walk towards Sebastian. Our eye contact was locked in with each other. I walk a circle around him as he stands in place. My finger drags across his back very slowly. His neck was turned toward his shoulder so he could try to catch a glimpse of me. When I reach around his front our eyes lock again. My body gets closer until he places his hands on my hips pulling me right into his body. I rest my hands on his shoulders for a moment letting him guide my hips to the music.

Our faces were inches apart as we stared into each other’s souls. It felt as if our hearts were dancing together when we did dance. That’s how romantic and sexy this dance really was. I glide my hands up to his neck to cup it gently. It makes our connection stronger in the moment. He starts to take his steps backing me up. I flow backwards with him helping me guide the way. If we didn’t trust each other then this dance would not work.

My right arm extends out as Sebastian used one arm to lift me up. My legs remained straight and I held my grip firmly on his shoulders to keep my form. His head was angled right into my lower chest. He keeps his focus on me as I turn my head to the side closing my eyes. I felt the breeze from him spinning me around. I tuck my knees in and bring my hand back down to his shoulders. He lifts me up and over his leg where I rest behind his thigh for a second.

He pulls me back over and I place my feet back down to the ground. His hands let go of my waist as I step away from him. Sebastian does his individual steps as I walk around him making sure all the attention was towards him. When he bows I began my individual steps. My last step brought me back into his arms. His large hands made their way to my hips once more. He brings me towards him as I straddled his thigh. With the beat of the music I grind my hips into his thigh. We never lost eye contact in this moment. My heart was racing at the intimacy this part held.

“One two three.” Sebastian whispers the count directly next to my ear giving me the cue to step back just enough for him to grab my hand as I extend myself out. He lets me spin out only to bring me back in. Once more I straddled his thigh and grind into his thigh. This time my hips come up a little higher and Sebastian meets me. Our bodies collide perfectly together. It was as if we were made for each other.

Without any hesitation Sebastian spins me around by my hips so now my back is pressed against his chest. His right hand trails up my side towards my stomach and directly through the valley of breasts. My heart flutters when I felt his hand around my neck pushing me into him more. On beat we practically snap our necks to look each other in the eyes again. His hand around my neck now goes up to my face where he softly rubs his thumb across my cheek bone. My hips sway against him slowly as the music begins to fade from the instructor controlling it.

“That was awesome you two! Absolutely beautiful! Let’s finish this last part and you guys will be ready to put it all together for the final scene.” She announces as she goes over in front of us. She explains the new steps thoroughly making sure we understood first. Then she takes each of us and guides us how to do what and where to look.

The final part added a sexy flair with so much passionate romance. It felt like I was watching a movie myself when she used Sebastian to show me my steps. Sebastian listened as intently as he could. I catch him staring at me at one point and all I could do was smile at him. We were sweaty and tired from the hours of practice. I could see it on both of our faces. We never had the thought of giving up though.

Once we learned the steps it was time for rehearsing it. The finale of this scene really tied the entire dance together. At the very end Sebastian and I were set to have our big kiss. The choreographer did not want us to kiss yet so the passion will let itself develop in the final dance. You could guess I was pretty excited about kissing my scene partner.

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The magic was in the air here in Italy. It was time for our big dance scene to come alive tonight. The directors and producers chose a nice little alley way between these bright pink buildings. Around us was all the Italy architecture you could imagine. This city truly was gorgeous in every aspect.

“Are you ready?” My stylist asks me as she is finishing up the touches on my hair and makeup. The costume director chose for me to be in a silk black two piece dress. The top piece had an A-line design with spaghetti straps. The skirt part was completely silk with two slits on either side. That way it would show off my legs for the dance. Just to add a little spice he chose red satin heels with an ankle strap. The heels I had been practicing in to be exact.

“Nervous. But ready.” I reply to her. I look at her through the mirror and see a soft smile on both of our faces.

“You’ve got this. No reason for you to be nervous.” She encourages. “Besides. This is your big moment to kiss Sebastian.” She smirks at me making my cheeks red.

“Y/n It’s time!” The director calls from the other side of the tent. My stylist fluffs my hair one more time and sends me on my way. I walk outside of the changing tent and step into the bright sunny day of Italy. The crew all looked towards me which made me blush wildly. Big smiles land on their faces and it boosts my confidence.

“Go ahead and get in your place Y/n. Sebastian is on his way!” The choreographer commands me and I nod my head making my way over to the marker. I lean against the wall and focus on my breathing. This is what we had been working for.

To keep the suspense Sebastian and I were positioned to look in opposite directions. I had no idea what he was wearing and he had no idea what I would be wearing. The thought of how handsome he could look was circling in my brain. My stomach was beginning to be filled with nervousness as we wait for the action to be called. I focus on an object off in the distance.

“Ready. ACTION!” The director calls. The music begins to play and I take in a deep breath.

My head slowly turns towards Sebastian standing opposite of me. Our eyes meet at the same time and I watch him take in a breath. He was beyond the words of handsome. They chose to put him in a white linen button down with the buttons open midway to his chest. The shirt hugged his shoulders perfectly making him look so muscular. And he was. He had on these nice gray pants that were loose enough for dancing but looked as if they fit like dress pants. My God is hair was styled perfectly back. Just enough gel to give it a little raise and the rest was just this fluffy bounce. My heart rose to my throat and it took me a moment to snap back.

Luckily I had practiced the routine so much that my feet took control at the start of the music. I elegantly walk to Sebastian as he walks to me. We didn’t remove our eyes from each other just like before. My heart was pounding when I was just close enough to see the shining blue in his eyes. The moment his hands come in contact with my hips a spark was sent through my body. His fingertips just barely graze my exposed skin on my waist. It makes my head spin from the minimal touch.

We continue through the routine just like we practiced. The passion and romance was every bit there. I felt it in my chest the way he would guide me, touch me, and hold me. When he spins me around and pressed my back up against his chest I felt my knees becoming weak. Just the fragile way he pressed his fingertips into my skin to pull me closer to him was enough to make me fall apart. I was trying to remain professional but it was hard with those blue orbs seeping into me.

Just as we approach the final part I felt butterflies erupting like a volcano in my stomach. Sebastian pulls me in as close as he can. One hand holds my waist while the other held my back. I felt him start to lean me down for the special dip. The music comes to a slow as he brings me back upright. My hand cups his cheek and our breathing was heavy. Our chests rise and fall hard against one another.

Our faces inch closer and closer. Instinctively our eyes shut just as our lips collide for the first time. My heart pounds hard against my chest that I could hear it in my ears. Sebastian deepens the kiss making me so light headed. I felt as if I was floating. He grazes his tongue across my bottom lip allowing him further access. His tongue was gentle and not too forceful. I’ve had many stage kisses but never has one made me feel this way before.

We pull back for air and stare into each other’s eyes. The director calls cut but Sebastian doesn’t loosen his grip or move an inch. I stay put still looking into his eyes.

“That was awesome you two! I’m so proud!” The choreographer announces and I take a step back letting my grip fall. My hands rest at my sides as I couldn’t contain the blush from appearing on my face.

Sebastian had this grin on his face as he continues to look at me. His eyes look from my head to my toe once more. “You are absolutely gorgeous.” He compliments. If it was possible my face got 10x more red.

“Thank you Sebastian.” I barely muster up the words to reply. “You look very handsome.” This time he looks to his right and a subtle blush appears on his face.

“Thank you.” He scratches the back of his head to ease his nerves. There was an obvious connection between the two of us. However, something was holding us back from just admitting it. We wanted each other but we wanted to remain professionals.

After filming was over with for the movie I was sad to leave. Who wouldn’t be? I have grown such a connection with all of these people. Shortly after filming Sebastian reached out to me. It was just a simple text message. Should it have gave me the amount of butterflies it did?

Would I ever be able to dance with you like that again?

I couldn’t help but smile down at my phone. “What are you smiling at over there?” My best friend asks me. I shake my head trying to contain myself.

“Nothing to worry about.” I reply shortly and think of a message back.

If you’re lucky ;)

I tried to be flirty but also not give away the fact that I was crushing hard on a fellow co-star. Somehow I just knew Sebastian was going to become a big part of my life. He reads the message and I see the bubble pop up. Just as fast as it pops up it disappears. I let a soft sigh out.

“Hey look Y/n! Isn’t that Sebastian?” Another one of my friends ask. We were all having a nice time catching up at my place. I had been gone for months so they didn’t have to do much begging when it came to hanging out.

The tv was playing the in background. I scramble around finding the remote turning the volume up. There he was on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Falon. My heart starts to rapidly beat in my chest at the looks of him. A black suit jacket with a floral button down underneath. His hair styled back with some gel. Once again he was just as handsome as the day I first met him.

“So Sebastian! You’ve got a new movie coming out with none other Y/n y/l/n. You know she’s one of my favorites on this show. How was it working with her?” My breath caught in my throat as my friends slightly squeal with the mention of my name.

“Oh wow. It was the best. She’s an absolute sweetheart! I can’t count the times she made my heart skip a beat.” He playfully clutches his chest. I thought I was going to faint. The crowd on the show erupts into cheers from the comment.

“Woah woah woah! Seems to me like there is some chemistry behind the scenes.” Jimmy replies egging him on. He looks down into his lap with a soft smile.

“There was definitely some moments throughout filming that had...” he pauses to think about his words. “Sparks flying I guess you could say.” Jimmy leans back in his chair in shock as the crowd gets louder.

“The producer so graciously let me have this little clip of a special scene that you all shared. Let’s watch shall we?” He gestures to another screen and the clip begins rolling. It was a small trailer that I actually hadn’t seen yet. Flashes of my face throughout filming appear. Scenes that we developed.

I see the clip of the beginning of the dance scene. The very moment we looked at each other it only showed Sebastian’s reaction. It zooms on his face and in his eyes I swear I saw a twinkle. Nice editing if you ask me. My heart jumps to my throat as the clip fades out. Sebastian is leaning back in his chair with an obvious blush on his cheeks.

“Let’s talk about that look man.” Jimmy says. Sebastian starts shaking his head. He had a big smile on his face. It’s like he was lost in his thoughts.

“That reaction was completely real. Our choreographer had us look away until the director called action. So for lack of better words. She took my breath away.” Jimmy covers his mouth in shock and the crowd was even more crazy. My jaw drops to the floor at his words.

“Wow. Seems like you two are starting a new romance Sebastian!” Jimmy says and I’m about to pass out from this entire interview.

“Yeah. If I’m lucky.” He smoothly winks at Jimmy. I knew what that meant. I just sent those words to him. My entire body was on an adrenaline rush.

“What does that mean!?” My friend asks in a high pitch. She was trying to contain her excitement but it was no use.

I look over at her with the biggest smirk on my face. My friends jump up from their seats circling around me in pure excitement. Thousands of questions were being shout out in my direction.

“Guys!” I laugh trying to get them to calm down. “When I say I’ve never had a stage kiss like his before. I mean it.” They shout in even more excitement.

“Well you’ve heard it hear live. Go check out this romantic new movie when it hits a theatre near you!” Jimmy closes the interview. Sebastian stands up waving to the crowd. The show goes to commercial and I’m still standing there speechless at his words. Was this really happening?

I bring my phone up. Without any hesitation I click on his messages again. Out of nerves I bite the inside of my cheek contemplating my next move.

“Whatever you’re about to say to him. Say it!” My friend encourages. I glance up at them and back to my phone.

Will you take my breath away if we dance again?

My cheesy reply still makes my heart pound in my chest. I wait a little over a minute and my phone buzzes against my hand.

If you’ll give me the chance I will hopefully do more than that.

I bite my lip to try and suppress the emotions circulating through my body.

Time and place?

My fingers come up to my lips as I nervously bite at one of my nails.

7 tomorrow night at my place. I’ll pick you up.

My eyes grow wide in surprise. This was really happening. I was planning a date with Sebastian Stan.

I’ll bring an inhaler just in case :)

I couldn’t ignore the wave of nausea building up in my stomach.

Good idea. I’ll bring a crash cart. Just in case your gorgeous self sends me into cardiac arrest.

My eyes roll at the flirtatious comeback. I leave the message open and explain to my friends we had to find an outfit quickly.

I was going on a date with Sebastian Stan.

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like, comment, or reblog for a part two? Thank you for reading guys!!!! :))

#sebastian stan #Sebastian #bucky #fluff #imagine #oneshot #bucky barnes #marvel #y/n x Sebastian #dance #bucky fanfic

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selfindulgentpoorlywritten · 4 years ago

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It’s You (Nico Hischier Imagine)

Y’all, I’ve been so busy lately! I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted, but hopefully this and the Matty imagine coming soon will make up for it :)

Rating: G

Pairing: Nico Hischier/fem!reader

Words: 3047

Warnings: minor language

Requested: yes/no

Prompt: “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Summary: “ Nico Hischier, fluff prompt 2, and the couple trope where they’re both dense af and don’t realize how cute they are together. The third wheelers that wanna smack their foreheads? Nico’s entire team. “

Knowing that you’re in love with someone is different than accepting that you’re in love with someone.

You’ve known that you love Nico for years. It wasn’t anything special that made you realize, really. It was during one of your semi-regular movie nights, when he was tossing popcorn into the air, trying to catch it in his mouth. He hit himself in the eye with a piece, and you’d laughed at him so hard that he shoved his cold feet under your leg in retaliation, and as you yelped in shock, it had hit you. You never wanted to hear anything but his laugh ever again, and you’d suffer worse than some cold feet for that.

It wasn’t until last year that you truly understood how far gone you are for him, and actually accepted what being in love with him meant. Despite being annoyingly sure that you and Nico were meant to be together, your friends had tried to set you up with someone. Their reasoning was that you hadn’t made a move, and probably never would, so they decided you needed to meet someone else to get over him. It was the second blind date when you realized that as well as you meshed with the guy, all you wanted was to be at Nico’s place watching some stupid show cuddled up on the couch. You didn’t want anyone else, and you never would.

That was the part that scared you at first. You’re never going to love anyone like you love Nico, and you didn’t have any desire to try. He’s everything you want, and the only thing you want. And he would never want you back. The prospect of a life without romantic love was terrifying, but after a month of near-constant panic, you were able to accept it. You have friends, and so much in your life that makes you happy, and that will be enough. You’re not excited to see him fall in love with someone else and get married and start a family, but having him in your life is enough. It’s enough. It’s enough.

You wonder sometimes, though. When he turns down invitations from the guys to spend time with you, when he holds you close on the couch, when he curls up next to you in bed after a bad game. The wondering is the worst part. You know he doesn’t feel the same as you, that they’re just best friend things, but sometimes you can’t help but to let yourself believe in the possibility.

The guys used to tease the two of you about “being in love”, but in the past year or so, it’s started seeming less teasing and more genuine. Frustrated, even. Between the guys and your friends, it seems like everyone thinks you should be together. That’s the second worst part.

Today, Nico has saved you a ticket for the game, since you can actually make it after work. When he’d gotten the captaincy, he’d gotten you a new jersey with the C on it, so you wear it to the game over your favorite sweater. A few of the WAGs came as well, and you’re excited to catch up with them. They’d adopted you as an honorary WAG a couple years back, considering how close you are with Nico.

The first period goes well, Nico scoring a beautiful wrister six minutes in. He looks up to where he knows you’re sitting after collecting his fist-bumps, though you’re sure he can’t really see you.

The second period is a little rougher, the Rangers scoring two goals, separated by a tip-in from Nico. He looks to your section again, and it makes you smile every time. Having him on hatty watch is exciting, and the game is dynamic enough that you’re cheering maybe a little too hard to be respectable. Luckily, the girls think it’s endearing, and know to expect it from you.

During second intermission, you chat with Nicole. She’s still beaming with pride from Travis’s thousandth game the other day, and you love to see it. She asks you about work and family and Nico, the conversation casual and comfortable. The only thing that bothers you is the way she looks at you as you talk about Nico, smile small and gentle, eyes almost pitying. The other girls still occasionally urged you to make a move on Nico, but Nicole had stopped around the time that you accepted your love for him. Now she just looks a little bittersweet when you bring him up. It’s kind of annoying, honestly. But she’s your friend, and she means well, so you don’t mind too much.

The third period is dynamic, the puck flying between zones, both teams feeling the pressure of the impending end of the game. The atmosphere in the arena is electric, everyone shouting and leaning forward in their seats, enraptured by the action. Because of the way the team has been struggling in the past few years, most of the Devils fans that are left are the die-hards, and it shows in the passion filling the Pru.

It’s looking like they’re going to go into overtime, the score still tied with only two minutes left in the game. Neither team pulls their goalie, probably trying for overtime so that they get at least one point. At 1:47, Nico gets a breakaway, and you jump out of your seat along with the rest of the crowd, throwing a fist into the air and cheering at the top of your lungs. Nico reaches Georgeiv, fakes a five-hole shot, and when Georgeiv hits the ground to block it, Nico flicks the puck up toward the top shelf. Georgeiv flings his glove up to catch it, but he’s just a moment too late. The puck hits the top left twine, coming to rest in the back corner of the goal.

The arena explodes.

Your hands are in the air as you jump around, screaming in unfettered joy. Even the WAGs are shouting, the shot beautiful and coming just in time. Nico collects his fist-bumps, then looks toward your seat yet again. But this time, he points toward your section, and you’re sure he’s pointing to you. You place a hand over your heart, the other clenched in a fist in the air. The pride is overwhelming.

The last minute and a half are a desperate rush of the Rangers trying to even the score back out, and the Devils doing all they can to keep their lead. Kreider, Zibanejad, and Buchnevich make a fantastic first line, and they’re doing a great job of bringing the puck into the Devils’ zone over and over, but Ty and Damon are on fire, clearing the puck every time it’s brought in. When the buzzer sounds, you and Nicole hug, excited to see your boys succeeding.

Nico will have to talk to the media for sure, considering his hat trick, in addition to the cool down, game debrief, and getting changed. It adds to the time you’ll have to wait before you see him, but you’re so happy for him that it doesn’t even faze you. He was amazing, and you’re looking forward to having a late dinner and cuddle session with him.

After a moment of consideration, you resolve to make him his favorite post-game meal. That means you’ll have to stop at the store, so you decide to forego meeting him outside the locker room in favor of grabbing the ingredients and getting the food started. You have a key to his apartment anyway, and the doorman knows you, so you don’t have to wait for him to let you in.

You stop at Shoprite on your way to his place, grabbing everything you need, along with some snacks to stock his pantry. He forgets to keep them in the house sometimes, so you like to make sure he has something to nosh on when he doesn’t feel like cooking. When you get to his complex, the doorman greets you happily.

“Roger!” you greet in return, giving him a quick hug, “It’s great to see you. How’s the family?” The two of you chat for a few minutes, catching up since you have a bit of time. He lets you into the building, and you take the elevator up to Nico’s floor. You unlock the door and drop your keys and bag on the table in the entryway. After dumping the grocery bags on the counter, you put on some music and start unpacking.

You stash the snacks in the upper cabinets, setting aside the things you need now. You set to work, singing along to the music as you cook. There’s a lull while you let the chicken cook, so you check your phone. You’d sent Nico a text before you left, letting him know you’d meet him at home, so you wanted to make sure he saw it. He’d sent back a thumbs-up, so you don’t have to call him. You have a couple notifications, and a text from Nicole. After checking the notifications and replying to a snapchat from your friend, you open Nicole’s message. It’s just a link, so you tap into it, and a video pops up. It’s Nico’s post-game interview. You don’t usually watch them, because he tells you about the game afterward anyway, but if Nicole sent it, there must be something special about it.

The pride on his face brings a smile to yours. You listen to him give some pretty standard answers to some pretty standard questions, waiting for whatever made Nicole see fit to send it to you. The reporter asks about his hat trick, and the flush on Nico’s face grows. He’s so damn cute.

“Well,” he begins, huffs half of a laugh, continues, “There was a special girl in the audience, so I wanted to do something special for her.”

“Oh, trying to impress somebody?” the reporter asks, the smile evident in her voice.

“Yeah,” Nico replies, clearly embarrassed, “She’s the most important person in my life, so…” He trails off at the end, but the intent is clear.

Your heart stops.

It’s unbelievable, what you’ve just heard, and it’s inconceivable that it could be about you. You try your best to think of everyone who was in the family and friends section, anyone in Nico’s life that he could be talking about. You were the only one there for him tonight, unless someone else was in a different section. You try as hard as you can, but you can’t think of anyone that Nico’s talked about lately that he could be interested in. You try to convince yourself that there’s someone he hasn’t told you about, but you tell each other everything. If there was someone, he would have told you.

Shit.

You want to call him, ask him what the hell that was, hear him tell you that it was for someone else. You’d already accepted that you’d never be together, that you’d never have love, and the possibility of your greatest desire being obtainable throws you off so hard that you have to take a moment to lean on the counter and breathe.

You manage to resist the urge to call him, knowing that he’ll be home soon anyway. If you keep focusing on the interview, you’ll have a panic attack, so you force all of your attention to finishing the food. The chicken is still cooking, and usually you’d just let it sit, but this time you’re spooning the sauce over it with very intentional focus. Anything to keep yourself stable.

Once you’re sure it’s cooked through, you turn the heat off. The broccoli is already done, but the rice takes another minute to finish. You plate the sides next to each other on the dishes, placing the chicken on the bed of rice and dousing it in the rest of the sauce. The sauce is Nico’s favorite part, so you make sure to give him extra.

Once the plates are set on the coffee table in the living room, you hear the doorknob turn. Your heart skips another beat, and you take a deep breath to settle yourself. He calls your name as he comes in, and you swallow hard so that you can tell him you’re there without your voice cracking. He rounds the corner and walks straight to you, wrapping you up in his arms. You hug him back, face buried in his neck. You know that you’re tense, and that he’ll probably notice, but you hope that he doesn’t ask about it.

Luckily, he only gives you a worried look. You smile back instead, and you can feel how fake it looks. To avoid the question, you start asking him about the game, leading him over to the couch to sit and eat. Nico stops when he sees the meal, a soft look overtaking his face. He always got soft and sentimental when you did thoughtful things for him, and his appreciation brings a real smile to your face. Your heart settles in your chest, and you remind yourself that this is Nico. At the end of the day, this is Nico, and he’s your best friend, for better or worse. There’s no reason to be afraid; there’s never a reason to be afraid around him.

You turn on the TV, navigating through until you can start the episode of The Good Place that you’d left off on. Even as you eat, you take pauses to make small comments about the show. Nico laughs at all of them, even if they’re not that funny. Once you’re both finished eating, you pause the show and take the dishes into the kitchen. Nico trails behind you, slipping between you and the sink at the last moment, close enough that you bump into him.

“You cooked, I wash,” he says on the tail end of a laugh.

“Then at least let me dry,” you reply, smile shining through your voice. He gives an over-dramatic sigh and an “I guess” before his smile returns. You bump your shoulders together and grab the towel off of the drying rack. Nico has a dishwasher, but you always wash the dishes by hand when you eat dinner together. It’s just a little tradition at this point, a way to spend a quiet moment together, to extend the time you stay. To increase the chance of you just staying over. Well, it’s not really a necessary motivation any more, but it is a handy excuse.

As Nico starts the water and soaps the sponge, you turn on the bluetooth speaker at home on the island and choose some chill music. There’s just something about this time together that always gives you a special feeling, something that you don’t get anywhere else. Something that relaxes your shoulders, softens your jaw, turns the edges of your lips up just enough that you realize your face has been resting in a frown all day. Your life is perfectly fine, but being with Nico makes you realize that it could be better. That you deserve better. That as long as he’s by your side, you have better.

Washing the dishes is calming, silent save for the clink of the silverware and the soft melody floating from the speaker. Once all the dishes are dried and back in the cabinets, Nico steps into your space, resting his hands on your waist. It takes the breath from your lungs, until he starts swaying you and you realize you’re dancing.

Your hands had landed on the curve of his shoulders without your conscious decision, thumbs gently propped along the tendons on either side of his throat. It feels too intimate that way, so you move them to join behind his neck instead. The more traditional position is less uncomfortable, both physically and emotionally.

You have no idea what song is playing now, too caught up in the weight of his hands, the baby hairs at the base of his skull running between your fingers, the unbearably fond look in his eyes. He’s looking at you like he’s just as happy to have this as you are, like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. Like he loves you.

“I saw the interview,” you say, not meaning for the words to slip out. You knew that it would ruin the mood, but you had to know. You had to know.

“Oh, um,” Nico stutters to a stop, though he doesn’t remove his hands from your hips. He tightens them, actually. No matter how much you want to cup your hand around the curve of his jaw, you leave them where they are. You don’t want to assume, just to embarrass yourself later.

Waiting patiently, you keep an eye on Nico’s face. He’s cycling through so many emotions that it’s difficult to catch them all. His face has gone pink, cheeks nearly glowing as they continue to redden while he thinks. You give him as much time as you can bear.

“Who were you talking about, Nico?” you ask, needing him to say it. You need to hear him say it. His breathing has gone a bit ragged, and he takes a gulp of air to steady himself. His cheeks are still bright red, and it somehow makes him even more beautiful.

“You,” he says simply, eyes locked on your own.

Your heart stops.

“Yeah?” you ask, the barest hint of a smile starting. Nico ducks his head for just a moment, huffing a laugh before angling back up to look at you again, eyes soft instead of determined.

“It’s you,” he replies, “It’s always been you.” Your breath catches in your throat as he says the words you’ve been dying both to hear and to say. It’s you. It’s all for you.

“Well, that’s convenient,” your smile is blooming wide, “Because it’s always been you, too.” Nico’s face springs into a bright grin, and you let your hands come to his face. Your fingertips wrap below his jaw, your thumbs resting on his cheekbones.

“You should kiss me now,” you say, pulling a dazzling laugh from him. He leans down, pressing your lips together in what you hope will be the first kiss of many.

#nico hischer imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #RI #andis coping mechanism #nhischier

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a-cutebird · 4 years ago

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i feel like as a fandom we do not spend enough time dissecting how fucked up the scene described here is.

"Young Master Wei, that night, you took the two halves of the Stygian Tiger Seal and pieced them together. After you were satisfied with the killing, you were a spent arrow as well. WangJi was injured on your rampage. He was in no better shape than you, barely supporting himself by leaning on Bichen. In spite of this, as he saw you stumble away, he immediately followed.

“Right then, not many people were still conscious. I, too, was almost unable to move, and I could only watch as WangJi, whose spiritual powers were clearly about to be drained, staggered towards you. He brought you onto Bichen as soon as he grabbed you, and you two left."

just. the mental image of lxc being so injured and so drained of spiritual energy that he can only watch helplessly as his brother continues to aid the man who did this to him - to all of them - is fucking breaking me.

lxc just spent an entire night fighting wave after wave of fierce corpses, saw them tear his sect members apart, watched as wwx's demonic cultivation reanimated those same members and forced them to turn on their own brothers and sisters, who could only watch in horror as the men and women they know and love, maybe their own wives, their own husbands, came lurching towards them.

and lxc, he wasn’t spared this; he had to face those familiar looking corpses, too.

they were his family.

but he had to swallow his grief and shout orders at everyone to focus, we will collect and properly bury the dead afterwards, but for now, you must think of them as the enemy --

hours. and hours, of this.

... and then, it ended. all the fierce corpses slumped over. that's the moment when, he assumes (probably correctly??) that wwx became "satisfied with the killing". lxc doesn't even have the energy to do a once-over of the battlefield to check how many of his sect members are left; he stays standing just long enough to make certain that he doesn't have to keep fighting, then his body gives out all at once, and he's on the blood-soaked ground, surrounded by dead bodies and injured cultivators.

but then!!!

he sees white robes pass by him! and it's wangji! and at first he thinks, oh thank god wangji is okay. and then wangji walks past him. and he goes, wait. hold on. wangji where are you --

and lxc has just enough energy to prop his body up enough to see wangji stagger towards wwx, grab him, put him on bichen, and... leave.

first of all, the fucking betrayal of lwj helping a mass murderer - a mass murderer who, i will remind you, used the bodies of the people he killed against their own family/sect members.

second of all, the betrayal of the fact that lwj has enough spiritual energy to do all that in the first place??? when lxc - and everyone else on the battlefield - is basically paralyzed, may as well be at the brink of death himself, because he spent everything he had trying to keep as many people alive in a battle where the enemy's only goal was to kill as many of them as possible?? like? wwx did not have any sort of noble goal here; he was literally just trying to kill.

look, i get that lwj is strong and he was being powered by love or whatever but you cannot tell me that lwj has more spiritual energy than lxc - so much more that he's able to, in this scene, 1. move, 2. haul wwx - an entire human adult male who weighs at least 150 lbs - onto his sword, 3. be able to use his sword (since we know that spiritual swords drain spiritual energy), 4. be able to FLY ON HIS SWORD, 5. be able to fly on his sword long enough to whisk wwx (whom he is carrying) (who, again, is a FULLY GROWN ADULT MALE) away to a location quite far away (the distance between nightless city & burial mounds is pretty substantial, i think?)

the ONLY way lwj could have done all this is if he hadn't fought as hard as lxc did and THAT knowledge. that, i think, would have hurt the most.

because again, lxc spent an entire fucking evening desperately trying to save lives

if lwj hadn't been doing that, then what the fuck was he doing??

... the fact that even after all of this, AND!!!!!! even after lwj severely injured 33 elders!!! which is, a goddamn HIGH CRIME - even after all! of! that! lxc loved lwj so much that he diligently, patiently, dutifully visited him while he was recovering from the discipline whip punishment - which, i cannot stress enough and i will never change my mind, lwj 100% deserved.

imagine how much lxc must have struggled to forgive lwj.

imagine all the sleepless nights lxc must have had after that bloody night, all the nightmares that plagued him over and over again - horrible visions of reanimated corpses of his family ripping other members of his family apart. of having to chop them into pieces because a fierce corpse won’t stop if you simply pierce its body; you have to completely disable it - decapitate it, cut off its limbs so it can no longer move.

imagine all the funerals he must have attended, doing his best to comfort the loved ones of the fallen, especially those who did not get even a single remain of their relatives because their corpses had been so torn apart during the carnage.

imagine how, even after all that, lxc loved lwj. still sought to understand why he did it all - and, even after being given such an unsatisfactory answer (”no matter what, i am willing to be responsible for everything wwx did” - that’s not a reason; that’s just... blindly following someone), still found it in himself to forgive him. because they’re brothers. because he grew up with lwj; he knows him; he knows him better than anyone else in the world knows him, better than wwx knew him in his first life, and better than wwx knows him in his second.

in the end, lxc knows that lwj’s biggest crime was loving someone else too much, and lxc can’t find it in himself to hate his little brother for that, so he forgives him.

but he’ll never forget, that image of lwj flying away.

#mdzs #lan xichen #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lxc #lwj #wwx #twin jades #meta #i said that i wanted to draw this but now that i think about it #i want to write this scene #and the scenes proceeding it #where lxc has to tell lqr that lwj flew away with wwx #then helps him gather 33 of their least injured elders #then goes with them to confront lwj #the entire time #struggling with his emotions #and trying not to remember #the horrible things he saw that night #because right now they need to find wangji #right now he cannot fall into despair #pushing past the urge to scream and scream and scream is a skill he learned during sunshot #bitterly he thanks the war for preparing him for this terrible night #ugh #lxc......#the more i think about all the shit he had to endure #the angrier i get that there are significant portions of the fandom #that do not give him nearly enough credit #that actively do him a disservice #by portraying him as an idiot or airheaded or whatever

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javier-pena · 4 years ago

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bloodstain

Chapter 2 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Mature

Notes: First, let me start with saying that at this point taking a bullet for Dani @javierpcna doesn’t feel like it would be enough. She literally drops everything whenever I send her a new or revised chapter to look over and i cannot thank her enough! I kinda surprised myself with how quickly I finished this chapter, but that’s also thanks to Dani because the highlight of my day is sending her small snippets of what I’ve written and having her reply with “?????”. I also want to thank all of you who read the first chapter and left comments and sent messages, it means the world to me! I was so nervous about sharing this with you all, but I’m so glad I did. And finally, let me end this with saying happy birthday, Chrisann @darksber!!! I hope you have a fun birthday and I hope you enjoy the second chapter as much as you enjoyed the first one.

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The snow comes over night. The cold, clean smell is the first thing your mind registers, even before it has time to make you feel confused about the strange bedsheets wrapped around you. And then you remember.

The screams.

The blaster shots

The fire, the blazing heat engulfing you, burning your skin.

Those men on their speeder bikes, laughing, looting, taking whatever the fuck they want.

And you, unable to stop them.

The feeling of cold, all-consuming despair makes a shiver run down your spine, makes you curl up in a tight ball beneath your blanket and shake so violently it makes you feel sick. Then you cry, and with the tears comes the heat until you’re so hot you feel sweat collect at the nape of your neck and run down your back in icy beads. After yesterday, you hadn’t expected there to be any tears left, but there are, so many, and they don’t stop, they seem to be endless, like a river flowing, rushing, tumbling over rocks and down a precipice, drowning everything in its way.

You hate those men, you loathe them, you want them dead, torn apart by wild animals, you want them dead after they beg you for their miserable lives, you want them dead and forgotten. That anger and that lust for revenge that seem to take up every cell and atom in your body are what finally helps you to stop crying. They don’t help you to calm yourself – you are anything but calm – but they help you to focus your rage on one goal: kill them all.

Because with the memories of the pain and the despair and the utter helplessness you felt yesterday (and still feel today) comes the memory of him. The Mandalorian. And remembering him means remembering the hope you felt when he offered his services, when he pledged himself to your cause. Shit. You shake your head. He did no such thing. He accepted a job. He only cares about the money, he doesn’t care about the cause. Yes, he will help you achieve your goal, but he’s emotionally detached from it. And you need to remember that. You need to remember it for your own sake because as soon as you assume anything else, it’ll get messy.

And he terrifies you. He terrifies you so much, especially in the light of day. Because the morning sun makes him feel real, solid, and so much more dangerous. And you have a feeling you shouldn’t keep him waiting.

You finally sit up and roll your neck and shoulders to relieve the pain the previous day’s labors have left behind. You couldn’t defend yourself against the Mandalorian, even if the muscles in your body weren’t screaming with pain. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You don’t know why you would trust a complete stranger like that after everything that has happened to you, why you would trust a complete stranger who could snap your neck like a dry twig. Being around him feels like being constantly held at gunpoint. One wrong move and you’re dead.

But you need him.

Maker, you need him.

You get out of bed and stretch, then run your hand over your face to dry it off. There is a bowl of water on a small table next to the bed. You have to break the thin layer of ice that has formed on the surface, and when you splash it on your face, it is freezing, but at least it makes your burning cheeks feel numb and it eases the stinging in your eyes. You know you look a mess, but you don’t care. You get dressed in your soot-blackened clothes and then leave the small room. You have no idea if you’ll ever sleep in a bed again.

***

The morning air is icy cold. Two suns have risen, but the third one still hides behind the trees. The air is foggy, misty, and clouds of smoke pass you by. The settlement is already busy. In a shop next to the inn, a man heckles with the vendor in a raised voice. Two farmers lead a small herd of tauntauns down the street, while everyone tries to get out of their way. In the distance, a child is crying. It smells like fire and snow and life. You hate it.

The everyday noises are overwhelming to you; the melody of a hammer hitting metal in a nearby forge makes your skull vibrate, the voices of people talking makes you want to cover your ears with your hands and yell at them to shut up, the reverberations of the tauntauns’ claws against the frozen ground makes you want to take cover somewhere and hide until nightfall.

But you don’t run or hide or even just turn around to take a breath. Instead, you focus your attention on the Mandalorian.

He is waiting for you outside the inn. A thin layer of snow has collected on his shoulders, a sign he’s been standing motionless for a while. Even though the morning sunlight is pale and makes everything look hazy, you see him clearly. So clearly that you have to squint your eyes when you look at him. His beskar armor glistens from the sunlight it reflects, so much that the people on the street turn their heads to look at him. The wisps of smoke rushing past shroud him, but it’s not enough to dim the dancing shimmers. He carries a long staff strapped to his back, a kind of spear you’re pretty sure he didn’t have with him the previous night at the inn. And his face is hidden behind the helmet again, which probably shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. All of this just makes him look wrong. He looks so out of place standing in the middle of this dirt-poor settlement it makes you want to pretend you don’t have anything to do with him.

So you focus on what’s behind him. In one hand, he holds the reins of three orbaks, in the other a small bundle. He presses it against his chest like he’s holding a small child, not a lifeless piece of cloth. The orbaks are big, wooly beasts, dark grey in color, with two long, dangerously pointy tusks hanging from their mouths. Two of them have saddles strapped to their backs, the third one is laden with crates, saddle bags, even two long guns. The more you look at it, the more weapons you spot. What does one man need so many for? So much baggage will just slow you down. The bandits already have a day’s head start and travelling on heavily loaded orbaks will give them even more of an advantage. But this is probably the best the Mandalorian could do – the settlement is so poor, not even merchants sell speeder bikes – who would be able to afford them?

You shudder and wrap your arms around yourself, painfully aware that the fire destroyed everything except for the clothes you’re wearing. But they’re not enough to protect you from the bitter cold. You can see your breath hovering in a pale cloud in front of your face when you exhale slowly, you can feel the snowflakes on your bare lower arms as you walk toward the Mandalorian. You have no idea how he can stand there like the cold is nothing to him. Beskar doesn’t protect against low temperatures. To you, this is just further proof of how much he’s not human.

“Here,” he says, as you stop in front of him, holding the bundle out to you.

“What’s this?” you ask with a small nod at him, the bundle, and the orbaks. You don’t take it.

The Mandalorian looks behind him, then back at you. “Supplies,” he says.

You take the bundle from him and untie the chord that’s tightly wound around it. Folding back the thin cloth, you unwrap a long, dark brown leather cloak with fur linings and a thick, woolen scarf. The scarf looks itchy but feels very soft against your skin and the coat lies heavy in your arms, like a dead animal. The sight of these clothes leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you don’t move to put them on. Instead, you stand there, pressing the unwrapped bundle against your chest, and look at the Mandalorian with raised eyebrows.

“What’s this?” you repeat.

He doesn’t reply, just nods and makes a gesture with his now empty hand, motioning you to hurry up.

You don’t. You just look at him, shivering more and more with each passing second. You’re not sure if it’s from the cold or from the anger you’ve been feeling since yesterday, since waking up this morning, since unwrapping the bundle; everything is stoking up the fire, feeding your flaming rage

“Listen,” you start. You try not to let your feelings get the better of you, but it’s impossible. You don’t quite know yourself why this small gesture enrages you as it does, you just know you need to set some boundaries right now. “I don’t need your pity,” you continue. “I don’t need you to look out for me. I can take care of myself.”

The Mandalorian huffs. “This isn’t a gift,” he says, his voice completely level. “I’m paying for it with your money. I’m not forcing you to wear it, but if you go on the journey like that,” he nods at you, “you’ll freeze. You’re no use to me dead.”

You feel heat rush to your face and settle in your cheeks. Without another word you put on the coat and tie the scarf around your neck. The coat rests heavy on your shoulders, weighing you down. It’s a size too big, but snug, and you stop shivering immediately. You run your left hand along the right sleeve under the pretense of fixing it, but you just want to feel the material under your fingers. It’s softer than it looks, which just serves to make you feel embarrassed and … stupid.

You feel stupid, so, so stupid. Did you really expect him to make you a gift? To look out for you? To care for you? You hired him to do a job and he’s just making sure you stay alive long enough to pay him. Much like the owner of a racing stable would do with his fathier. You scold yourself for having misread the situation. You blame it on the exhaustion you still feel, on the trauma you lived through, on the need for human connection you had no idea you even felt. There is no way to come out of this situation without feeling like a fool, so you just decide to ignore it. After all, it’s best if you just forgot about the whole thing. All you need to do in future is to be more careful around him so you don’t misinterpret his intentions again.

“Supplies?” you ask to distract yourself.

You wish you could see his face when he says, “Were you just going to follow them on foot with no food or weapons?” Because it doesn’t sound as if he’s mocking you, even though he should be. Hell, you should be mocking yourself. But he just sounds genuinely curious, as if this is a discussion about a topic you’re both not emotionally invested in, not a question of life and death.

“No,” you answer slowly, then look away. You have to admit you hadn’t thought about it yet, you were too focused on the idea of hunting those men down that you didn’t even consider you needed tools, supplies, food, and a means of transportation. “Thank you,” you add.

The Mandalorian gives you a curt nod, accepting your words of gratitude. You’re glad he doesn’t press the subject, any subject really.

Without him, you would have been dead within a day.

***

It is still snowing when you and the Mandalorian leave the settlement behind. As you begin your journey into the unknown, tiny snowflakes settle in the fur of your orbak, making it appear white instead of dark grey. It blends in perfectly with your surroundings, where everything is light shades of blue, grey, and brown. And white, so much white. You squint your eyes and yet the light still stings to the point you tear up. You envy the Mandalorian his tinted visor and you wish you had something similar to protect yourself. Alvorine’s three suns hang low, their pale blue light filtered through hazy clouds. Everything you see is blurred and too bright to look at directly – it makes you feel vulnerable and exposed. Even as you enter the cover of the trees, their bare branches do little to help keep out the light and the snow and so you lower your eyes to your reddened hands holding your orbak’s reins as you trust the Mandalorian to lead the way.

The air is cold this morning, so cold you tie your new scarf over your mouth and nose and still feel it sting in your throat. Your face, still raw from crying, stings too. Your hands are frozen shut around the reins and you can’t feel your fingers. When you try to move them, the action is painfully slow. You shiver despite the heavy coat on your shoulders as you sit hunched over to give the cold air less opportunity to cover your body with icy touches. You would never admit to it out loud because you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough for one day, but the Mandalorian was right – you would have frozen to death within a few hours of leaving the shelter of the settlement.

You raise your head briefly to look at him riding ahead of you, but he is the brightest object in a 10-mile radius, you think, brighter than your orbak’s fur or the snow-covered ground. Back in the settlement, you already noticed how the suns’ light reflects off his polished beskar armor, but out here in the forest with nothing around to distract your gaze, he is like a homing beacon, like a bright, blazing fire lit in complete darkness. This brazen display makes you shiver; he is on top of the food chain, too quick and powerful and deadly to hide his presence. He could be spotted from miles away by someone on a sentry tower and yet the person keeping watch wouldn’t stand a chance. The Mandalorian would catch them sooner or later, no matter how well they were trying to hide. Nothing can escape him, so there is no reason for him to hide his presence, to sneak from cover to cover like a thief in the night.

He frightens you.

What is also bearing down on you is the silence surrounding him, you and your orbaks. Yes, there is the sound of their hooves against the frozen ground, the swoosh of their fur every time they shake their heads, the soft thud whenever they brush up against a branch, making snow glide to the ground. But that’s it. That’s all you hear. The Mandalorian travels in complete silence. His armor doesn’t squeak or thump. You cannot hear the sound of his slow, steady breathing. Even his hands lie completely silently on the nape of his orbak’s neck, the reins resting against the worn leather of his gloves. And you envy him those gloves because the further you travel into the forest, the colder it gets, and the stiffer and more unresponsive your fingers get.

You cannot recall the last time you felt this uncomfortable. You wish there was something to distract you from – well – everything. Yes, you’re grateful the Mandalorian doesn’t ask you personal questions because you buried your old life beneath wet soil and dirt yesterday, and with it you buried any desire to share it with a complete stranger. He also doesn’t ask you about the men you’re hunting, and you feel like he doesn’t have to because he just knows. Maybe he talked to the people back at the settlement, maybe it’s the years of experience he’s had hunting people for a living or maybe it’s just instinct – he knows where he needs to be going, he knows what kind of equipment to bring along, and he knows what the best strategy is to catch his quarry.

You don’t know any of these things. And the more you stray from the bare minimum of human civilization and into the wilderness of Alvorine, the more you realize you wouldn’t stand a chance without the Mandalorian. You would’ve frozen to death if he hadn’t given you the coat. Or you would have starved, or died from exhaustion from trying to carry all your supplies yourself. You would have gotten lost and eaten alive by a wild beast. Or you would, by some miracle, have caught up with the men, but would’ve gotten killed by them because you didn’t bring a weapon. By the look of it, the Mandalorian brought enough for a small army. And the more you think about it, the more you are prepared to admit that you were never seriously planning on going after the bandits. You are prepared to admit you were just looking for a way out so you wouldn’t have to live with the pain. One or two rash decisions made from a place of hurt and despair, one or two unplanned steps can mean death on Alvorine. While wallowing in your revenge fantasies, you weren’t thinking about Brea – you were just thinking about yourself.

But somehow – and this time you’re convinced it’s because of his instincts – the Mandalorian offered you a chance at success, one you might not even have wanted. He listened to the people in that inn and decided helping you with your cause is the right job for him. You’ve never heard of a Mandalorian like that. You always assumed they were only interested in money or the thrill of chasing down the rich and the powerful, in letting them know that no amount of credits can keep them safe. But here he is, content with spending a week or more in the forests of Alvorine, hunting down base criminals for the ridiculous amount of 240 credits. It doesn’t add up. And you would ask him about it if he wasn’t an unapproachable, withdrawn man, covered in impenetrable armor. You would ask him if he didn’t terrify you so much.

You wish you could talk to him about … something, you just don’t know about what.

But he makes that decision for you. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

His voice cuts so unexpectedly through the silence that you flinch. It somehow surprises you that he is real and not just a concept you’ve made up in your mind, and idea to help you live out your fantasies of revenge and vengeance.

When you don’t answer, he turns his head to look at you. You squint when you return his gaze, trying to make up your mind whether you are hungry or not (something that feels impossible when all you are is terribly, terribly cold), but then he pulls on the reins of his orbak and brings it to a halt in the middle of the path. He glides down from the animal in one swift movement; a small cloud of freshly fallen snow rises up when his feet hit the ground but there is still no sound and this is starting to unnerve you. It takes him a few steps until he’s next to you, the top of his head reaching your shoulder, even though you’re still mounted high on your orbak, and then he says in a rough, almost unkind tone of voice, “I asked you a question”.

And you remember the deal, you remember having agreed to doing as he tells you. It’s just, you don’t have an answer for him. So you just shrug.

He grabs the rein of your orbak and you finally – finally! – hear his movements make a sound, a low creak as the leather of his glove brushes against the leather of the bridle. The orbak shakes its shaggy head but he doesn’t flinch. His visor is directed at you and you know he expects an answer from you. He’s growing impatient, you can tell from the way his shoulders tense as he lets his gaze wander over your body.

“You’re hypothermic,” he observes, and as the words leave his mouth, so does the air you’ve been holding in and you start shaking uncontrollably.

Now that he’s pointed it out, there is no denying it. You’re cold, so, so cold, frozen and raw, you can’t feel your own lips, your nose, your cheeks. Your fingers are lifeless lumps against the coarse fur of your orbak. If the animal would decide to bolt at this very moment, you wouldn’t be able to hold it back. You’re not even sure you could climb down from the beast right now. Of all the deadly dangers of Alvorine it’s the cold that has finally gotten to you. It’s laughable, and you would laugh, if you could feel your face.

“Can you dismount?” he asks you then.

This is a question you can answer. “I think so,” you say, even though you know you can’t. Your legs are like two solid bricks of ice, too stiff to be moved.

“Do it then,” he says, and it sounds so much like a challenge that you’re determined to show him you can do it.

He doesn’t watch your pathetic display though. He lets go of the rein and walks to the third orbak that is carrying most of your supplies. You’re grateful for that because as soon as you try to dismount, you feel your body tense even more until you glide down from the orbak with a disgraceful plop and land in the soft snow with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. The sounds you make draw the attention of the Mandalorian back to you, but he doesn’t rush to your side to offer you help. Instead, he turns his attention back to the task at hand, looking through one of the bags strapped to the pack animal. You’re convinced he rolls his eyes under the cover of the helmet.

You try to get up, and you manage after two fruitless attempts. Your legs are shaking, but at least they’re supporting your weight. Walking on them is another topic you’re not prepared to cover yet. And then you feel it again, that hot sting of embarrassment you felt this morning, trying to make itself known by speeding up your heart rate and adding a feeling of nausea to your general discomfort. You push it down without batting an eyelash. There is no reason to feel like this, especially if you compare yourself to the Mandalorian. Not everyone can be a ruthless killing machine, immune to environmental influences.

Then he’s back by your side, and with a gruff, “Hold this,” he pushes a heating pad into your hands. You’re not sure at first if it’s switched on because you don’t feel anything, but when you move it around in your hands looking for the on button you notice it’s cranked up to the highest setting.

“You need to tell me when you’re cold,” the Mandalorian continues in the same gruff tone of voice, while he unscrews a flask.

Once it’s opened, he pushes it into your hand with such force you stumble backwards. Your whole body tenses at the contact and you realize you’re completely alone with him. There is not another living soul around for miles except for the three animals next to you, and they won’t come to your aid if he suddenly decides to kill you. And he could. He is so strong; you had no idea how strong until he pushed you back like that with a motion that didn’t seem to take any effort at all. And with another effortless motion, he could close a hand around your neck and squeeze until there is no air left in your body. You wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Drink,” he orders.

You do. It’s a hot liquid – tea, you think – but with a bitter taste to it. It warms you up instantly, much quicker than the heating pad does. You still can’t feel your fingers.

“Just tell me next time,” he repeats. “Losing a finger to hypothermia is a nasty business.”

And now you do feel embarrassed again. You’re a burden, you’re slowing him down. You already lost a quarter of an hour because you can’t handle a bit of cold. It’s not surprising he usually works alone. No one is able to keep up with him, least of all you in your weakened, exhausted state.

But you can’t turn back. You refuse to give up so easily.

You nod to show him you’ve understood his instructions. Then you let your gaze wander around, looking for something to distract you. You can feel heat rising to your cheeks, and it has nothing to do with the warm drink or the heating pad. You know it doesn’t because you’re still shivering. But you’re not going to apologize to him. For some reason, you feel like he would just brush it off, act like it’s no big deal. But it is to you, and you wouldn’t be able to bear him acting nonchalantly. The other possible response to an apology from you would be him trying to comfort you and you definitely. don’t. want. that. The mere thought makes your heart beat so rapidly it feels like it’s going to explode any second. The mere thought of one of his hands resting on your shoulder in a comforting gesture makes you want to run. You don’t want him to care for you because it’s entirely at odds with his character, his whole being. He is here to hunt and kill, not to hold and comfort. And this is what you need right now – a killer, not a caretaker.

You take a few steps, walk past him toward a fallen tree to calm your nerves. The deep breaths of cold air you take make you cough, but he doesn’t even flinch. Good. You’re usually not like this, you’re usually not someone who can’t take care of themselves. After all, you’ve lived on Alvorine your entire life, you know how harsh the winters can be and how dangerous the cold is. But yesterday’s events broke something in you, and the realization that you might never recover from it begins to dawn on you, take hold of you with a grip icier than the snow clinging to your worn-out boots. The weight of what happened to you slams into you with full force and you have to lean against a tree, its rough bark scraping uncomfortably against your cold, bare hand.

And then you see it – the bloodstain. One single, impossibly small, impossibly red bloodstain on the virgin-white snow. And everything stops.

You lurch forward and fall to your knees to examine it more closely. Yes, it’s definitely blood. You raise your head to look around, but you can’t spot anything out of the ordinary, just trees and snow and your own footprints. Your breath comes in short, labored bursts, and you suddenly don’t feel cold anymore. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all.

“What is it?”

The Mandalorian is there, crouching by your side. You point to the small, red dot, and he raises his hand to touch his helmet. His body grows rigid as he examines it, all the while not moving an inch. You don’t want to hear his verdict, don’t want to hear the conclusion he’s come to. That bloodstain stirs something inside you, a panic with such deep roots you feel it taking over your entire body, growing like weed, choking all other feelings, all life out of you.

Something in your body language must have given away this panic you feel, because suddenly the Mandalorian turns to you and says, “I need you to calm down.”

You nod, unable to speak. Then you turn your head away from him and throw up.

“Hey,” he says, and something in his voice catches your attention. It sounds almost … soft.

You turn back to him, running your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you apologize.

“I’m going to look around,” he tells you. Then he raises his hand as if to comfort you, but you flinch away from him. His hand hovers outstretched between the two of you for a brief moment before he lowers it again. “Just stay here. Try to eat something. I won’t be long.”

He pushes himself off the ground, towering over you. You stand up too, your legs shaking, but before you can embarrass yourself more by stumbling into him, he takes off in a slow-paced run and you stare after him until the trees swallow him up. And then you’re alone. Alone with three orbaks and your panicked mind.

It’s not Brea’s blood, you tell yourself.

But what if it is? a different voice asks.

It’s not. It snowed during the night, and we’re too far behind those bandits. It can’t be hers.

It can, you know it can. They could have left her here to die.

There would be more tracks.

Then why are you panicking? Why did you throw up?

You can’t argue with that. Instead, you sink to the ground again, bury your head in your hands, and scream. You scream so loudly that even though the sound comes out muffled, the orbaks still move their heads nervously. A few trees away, a flock of birds takes off, chittering in disapproval. You scream until your lungs begin to burn, until your throat stings, until you feel like you’ve just sprinted ten miles. Then you grow quiet.

***

When the Mandalorian returns, it’s almost dark. You’re not freezing anymore because you spent the last two hours or so pacing up and down the path through the undergrowth you’ve made earlier, your mind racing with scenarios of him not returning before nightfall. You fear the nights on Alvorine and you know you should have told him about the dangers these forests hold. Because how could he have known that it’s almost impossible to survive a night out in the wilderness? Almost because if anyone could do it, it would be him.

When he returns, the pauldron on his right shoulder is smeared with dirt and his chest is heaving with silent pants, but he’s alone. You’re simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

“We’ll make camp here for the night,” he decides without so much as a greeting.

You open your mouth to tell him how dangerous that would be but then close it again when you remember the nearest settlement is miles and miles away and you wouldn’t reach it in time before nightfall. You don’t have any other choice.

He sends you to collect some wood while he moves to tie up the orbaks. You scold yourself for not having done that earlier when you were waiting for him, but you had hoped it wouldn’t take him quite as long and he would be back sooner. As you move around, picking up the driest branches you can find, you glance over at him from time to time. He is lost in his own task, tying the reins to nearby tree trunks, patting one orbak’s neck, then scratching another one’s muzzle. They trust him, stand completely still in his presence while he circles them, examining them for any injuries or anything that might cause them discomfort.

Finally, curiosity gets the better of you. “What did you find?” you ask, as you break a big, dead branch into two parts.

“Nothing,” he replies in his brusque fashion you’re slowly getting used to. “A dead animal.”

You nod, then focus on the task at hand. Your small discovery and subsequent … breakdown? … panic attack? … you don’t know what to call it, has already cost you so much time. You could’ve covered twice the distance today if he hadn’t stopped here because of you. But … this isn’t a rescue mission, you keep forgetting about that. This is a quest for revenge, and those bandits will be there, no matter how long it will take you to find them. It doesn’t matter if it takes you two days or two months to reach them.

“Did you eat?” the Mandalorian asks you, interrupting your train of thought.

You shake your head and he sighs. Then he reaches into one of the saddle bags and pulls out a ration pack, tossing it to you. He proceeds to clear away the snow around the small pile of wood you’ve collected before doing something with his arm, so flames shoot out of the vambrace, igniting the stack. You can’t help but stare in fascination because you’ve never seen anything like it.

It doesn’t take him long to get a fire going. You grab one of the two bundled up, coarse blankets from the pack orbak and spread it on the ground next to the heat source, huddling up close for warmth and protection. You tear open the ration pack and begin to eat.

“I should’ve told you before, but it’s dangerous out here at night.” Your mouth full, you watch as the Mandalorian sits down opposite you, the fire between you. The warmth spreading through your body and your steadily filling stomach make you talkative. “There’s monsters in these woods.”

He chuckles softly but you’re sure it’s just your imagination. There is no way you could’ve heard a sound like that over the crackling fire. But before you can ask him about it, he raises his hand to remove the dirty pauldron from his shoulder, and you’re so distracted by that piece of steel being lifted off the body it usually protects that you stop thinking altogether for a moment. It’s stupid, you know that, but a part of you still thinks he might be a machine, and seeing that pauldron being removed from his shoulder feels almost forbidden, like you’re the audience to some ancient, sacred ritual you have no right to observe. You lower your gaze to the flickering flames.

“I’ll keep an eye out for those monsters,” he assures you, and you’re not sure if he meant for it to sound mockingly, but it doesn’t.

You still don’t think he fully believes you.

“Alvorine is a dangerous planet,” you tell him in a quiet tone of voice. “It might not seem like it compared to what you’re used to, but to us the dangers are very real.” You’re still not looking at him, but there is no point – you can’t see his face anyway.

“I believe you,” he says. “But fire is usually enough to keep the monsters at bay.”

As a response, you nod, even though you’re not sure he’s watching you. So you finally raise your head again to look at him. The pauldron is back on his shoulder, but his gaze is directed at the orbaks.

“I’m going to feed them,” he tells you. “They’re getting restless. Try to get some sleep.”

You nod again and stretch out on the cold, hard ground. Shivering, you pull your coat tighter around yourself. The fire is barely warm enough to keep your fingers and toes from falling off, and once it dies down, there won’t be anything keeping you from freezing to death. Briefly, you’re considering pulling the blanket out from beneath you to use it as a cover, but then you wouldn’t have anything to protect you from the cold ground. With a sigh, you close your eyes, trying to ignore the discomfort. Instead, you focus on the sounds around you, on the branches brushing against each other when a cold breeze tears at them, on the orbaks huffing impatiently and almost nervously, and on the crackling fire, the heat that makes a piece of wood snap in half ever so often. And then you hear another sound, footsteps, and your eyes snap open again.

The Mandalorian towers over you, and it’s the first time you were able to hear him approach. Instead of feeling proud of yourself, you bolt upright, adrenaline pumping through your veins. Whatever happens next, you know you don’t stand a chance against him. He slowly leans down, and you try to get away from him, but your muscles are frozen stiff and don’t cooperate. His arms move as if to grab you and a strangled cry escapes your throat.

But it’s just a blanket, just the other blanket, and he wraps it tightly around your shoulders. “Here,” he says with a low grunt. If he noticed your alarm, he doesn’t comment on it.

You look at his helmet reflecting the light of the dancing flames, and you wish you knew what was going on beneath it. Is he offended? Annoyed? Or maybe just as cold and exhausted as you?

“What about you?” you ask, grabbing the coarse material to hold it tightly against your body.

“I’m not cold,” he answers, standing up again. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you before sunrise.”

You watch him walk back to the other side of the fire and settle down on the cold ground with just his cape to keep him warm. And for the first time since you met him, his stoic presence doesn’t fill you with dread or panic or trepidation – he just makes you feel calm.

tag list: @bella-ciao, @chattychell, @darksber, @filthybookworm, @frannyzooey, @khalysa, @leannawithacapitala, @magicrowiswritingstuff, @mothandpidgeon, @mbpokemonrulez, @mrsparknuts, @mxsamwilson, @mylifeofcalculatedchaos, @pescopadral, @piscespussybabe, @something-tofightfor

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #star wars #din djarin #pedro pascal #fanfic #the hunt fic #lmao i'm still a coward though and currently asleep #tw: flashing gif

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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

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Would you consider Hugo Strange a pulp villain?

Yes. And I would argue that he didn't really stop being one even after his revival.

"Professor Hugo Strange, the most dangerous man in the world! Scientist, philosopher and a criminal genius - little is known of him, yet this man is undoubtly the greatest organizer of crime in the world! - Bruce Wayne, Detective Comics #36

Hugo Strange was created with the intention of being Batman's arch-enemy right from the start, introduced as such by Bruce when he figures out he's responsible for the G-man assassination, pretty explicitly intended to be Batman's Moriarty and with even an equivalent demise. He was big enough to tower over his henchmen and fistfight Batman, he had a uniquely deformed skull, he was both a charismatic but threatening crimelord as well as a mad scientist plotting to TAKE OVER THE WORLD, and I've heard before the argument that the Monster Men were taken from a Doc Savage novel released earlier the same year called The World's Fair Goblin that revolves around a giant mutated man doing crimes under command by the story's villain

That poor devil, Maximus, was a Fair visitor himself, once. He was given injections of thyroxine and adrenalin—and changed rapidly into a pituitary giant. But, in the experiment, his will power was destroyed. Now he only follows the directions of that masked devil who has him hypnotized

He said, "The Man of Tomorrow stuff was merely publicity to draw the Fair crowds—and a shield to cover your own experiments. But the masked surgeon cashed in on it. Obviously he is mad enough to really believe a superman can be created." - The World's Fair Goblin

(Considering Lester Dent had taken potshots at Superman explicitly in "Whisker of Hercules", it's not unlikely that this is an explicit reference)

Although there's really no overlap in the stories besides that, as The World's Fair Goblin only had one giant where as Hugo mutated a couple dozen mentally ill patients to create monsters and then used them to go on mass murdering rampages, because Batman has always been over-the-top. But, yeah, original form Hugo was a pretty cut and dry pulp villain, like most of Batman's villains who debuted prior to 1940. Which is part of why he only had about 3 appearences before they killed him off.

By this point, Batman was in the process of moving away from his pulp knock-off origins into more of his own character, with the introduction of Robin and Dick Tracy cartoon villains that would set the tone for the rest of Batman in the Golden Age, and with the debut of Joker and Catwoman in Batman #1, Hugo was already obsolete as an arch-enemy, and was killed off the following appearence.

Of course, if you know Hugo Strange, you likely already know this, and that he was then revived in the 70s by Marshall Rogers with a brilliant take that stuck to the character's origins as a brilliant crimelord and scientific genius, but also added to him a specifically twisted psychological bent of being obsessed with Batman and becoming Batman, a villain of unshakeable will and even a twisted sense of honor and ethics, refusing to divulge Batman's secret identity even while beaten to death.

And from that moment onwards Hugo would go on to have some of the most consistently brilliant appearences out of any Batman villain (at least until the 2010s) and would secure himself as a mainstay, albeit a very obscure one, figure of Batman, the kind of villain whose plots can range from Born Again-esque subtle destructions of a person's life to a rampage of mutant kaijus on downtown Gotham, and like many of the best Batman villains, it all comes back to a central obsession and psychological edge upon Batman, and the weaponizing and destruction of anything that stands in his way.

You could argue Hugo Strange used to be a cut and dry pulp villain who was eventually reimagined as a Batman Villain, and it would even be somewhat fitting of his in-universe trajectory as a man who started out a career as a figure of prestige and respect, effortlessly able to blend in society, until his repeated encounters with Batman and, most importantly, his gradually increasing obsession with becoming Batman, gradually destroyed him until he's no longer the one ruling the madhouse, but instead trapped in it.

But the reason why I'd argue Hugo Strange is still a Pulp Villain is because his reinventions didn't shed away what he used to be, they merely returned him to his true origins. Because Hugo, you see, is not just a Mad Scientist or Mad Psychologist, Batman's got those by the dozens. Hugo is of a particularly nasty kind of Pulp Villain, who came to existence around the same time as the Mad Scientist if not slightly earlier, an archetype Jess Nevins has named The Evil Surgeon

Medicine has arguably thrown up more serial killers than all the other professions put together, with nursing a close second - Herbert Kinnel, former chairman of the British Medical Association

The Evil Surgeon came to existence as a pop culture archetype in the late 19th century, as the result of serial killers like Jack the Ripper and H.H Holmes making the news, with Doctor Quartz from Nick Carter being first and foremost among these, as the main arch-enemy of the most published character worldwide at the time.

He would be followed years later by H.G Wells's Doctor Moreau, and the likes of Dr Caresco and Professor Tornada, the stars of novels created by André Couvreur, who was himself a medical doctor and used these novels to both condemn the characters as well as give serious consideration to the ideas they explored, and depicted Dr Caresco's over-the-top exploits harkening back to stories about Marquis de Sade (the origin of the term "sadist"). These would be followed by characters like Grigorii Trirodov, Dr Cornelius Kramm, Dr Gogol from Mad Love, currently the most famous example of this seems to be Hannibal Lecter. And Hugo has been operating much more along the lines of those characters in the last decades, than the typical mad scientists he was once designed in reference to.

Of course there's a massive overlap between the two and room to dispute whether they even constitute separate archetypes, they practically came to existence together following the footsteps of Victor Frankenstein, who really isn't a true example of a Mad Scientist in the original novel, and wasn't even a real doctor, but Frankenstein's reputation undeniably is the oldest cultural touchstone we can point to as an influence in the archetype, even if said archetype would only truly take form in pulp magazines and serials.

What I'd argue defines the Evil Surgeon as an archetype specifically, is that they are specifically centered around the violation and destruction of the human body and function more as murderers with budgets, than supervillains in labcoats. Mad Scientists are generally more centered around plots closer to sci-fi/fantasy inventions like sentient robots and immortality potions used for large scale global domination, where as Evil Surgeons are more preoccupied with wielding psychology and torture and criminal resources to get away with destroying minds on more individual scales, or turning cities into slaughterhouses for them to work in.

They aren't quite full blown slasher villains, like Zsasz or Professor Pyg, instead they usually tend to be quite good at passing off as respectable, mentally sound figures of moral standing, and usually possess a sense of purpose towards their work, a goal they are working for by piling corpses atop each other and moving resources to achieve, even if said goal is a purely selfish fulfillment of their own desires. It's quite common for these characters to acquire large bases for them to operate in, even islands specifically.

In Caresco Surhomme, Caresco has taken control of the Pacific island of Eucrasia. Caresco applies his surgical methods to the inhabitants of the island, altering them to better do their jobs. The captain of the plane which brings outsiders to Eucrasia is a limbless trunk with telescopic vision. Even the island itself is in the shape of a human body. The natives of Eucrasia are addicted to various sensual pleasures and generally submit to Caresco’s rule, for fear that he will castrate them or worse.

On Eucrasia, Caresco makes use of “omnium,” a mysterious and unexplained power source, to create: a machine capable of stripping the years from human bodies and reversing the aging process, a fast underground train system, food pills, omnium-powered diving suits, and so on. Caresco is given to such things as collecting the spleens of all those he operates on - Jess Nevins, The Encyclopedia of Pulp Heroes

So, yes, I absolutely would argue Hugo Strange is still a Pulp Villain. Pulp villains do come in many different forms other than the Fu Manchus and Fantomases that are most commonly imitated, pulp was the breeding ground of the supervillain as a concept after all, where they got to star in their own magazines time and time again. Hugo started off as a fairly generic one, and when he's written poorly, he tends to be brought onboard of a story purely because it calls for a mad scientist.

But Strange came back from death as something much, much worse than just a crimelord and mad scientist, a much more rare and much nastier type of villain that, much like Hugo himself, may lie dormant, but refuses to stay dead for long.

"Quincy. My servant. My friend," Hugo said. "We don't have much time."

Quincy was crying again, with joy. "How, master, how did you-?"

The therapy, Quincy realized. The hypnosis. The drugs.

"Stay with me master, please!" Quincy tried to grab hold a phantom hand.

"I cannot." Strange said, looking benevolently down at Quincy, stroking his hair with a touch the prisoner couldn't feel. "But there is one last service you can perform me."

"Anything, Hugo, please."

"First, remove the sheet from your bed, Quincy. And tie it to the light-fixture on the ceiling."

#replies tag #batman #dc comics #hugo strange #dr jack quartz #pulp villains

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aesterblaster · 3 years ago

Text

Pokemon Trainer HCs!

Isagi

Idk why, but I get grass vibes from him

His starter would be a bulbasaur since, like him they are often underestimated even though they have really valuable moves

His main goal would be to collect all the badges he could and become a wide known name (Which he does achieve later on)

But he wouldn't mind if a few people joined him along the way

Totally wears athletic gloves and shit like that

Avidly hates anyone who abuses their Pokemon and wouldn't hesitate to step in and try to stop them

He'd be the type to get totally crushed in a match and then come back 3 months later for a rematch lmao

Bachira

He is an electric type lover, period

His starting pokemon would be a torchic

I think the first time he got a pokemon he'd cry because now there would be someone with him on his journey/he'd be less lonely

Two words, Pokemon Ranger

He would love to rescue injured and abandoned pokemon and help rehabilitate them

Also his agility and lightning fast pokemon (pun intended) would help him in any battles with team rocket

He would prefer to not battle though since he hates to see his pokemon get hurt but he does end up meeting Isagi and keeping in touch with him/meeting up and traveling with him and the gang when possible

Chigiri

His favorite types are dragon and flying

He'd start off with an Eevee that would later turn into a Flareon

I feel like he'd be a pokemon training prodigy, known for leveling up his pokemon extremely quickly (not with drugs or anything dw)

And the Wanima brothers would be jealous and attack him

Which lead to him becoming more secluded until he meets Isagi and decides to go back into battling

He would really hate trainers who use their pokemon like medals and thinks that you should let your skill talk for you

I honestly think he'd get picked up as a gym leader trainee very quickly thanks to his natural skill/ability to shine

Reo

I believe he'd like psychic types the most but his starter would be a Chespin

I feel like he'd have all the latest gear/fashion lmao

I think he'd def start out wanting to collect badges with Nagi and all that jazz but slowly realize he wasn't as cut out for it as Nagi was

So he switched paths after Nagi joined Isagi (dw they still keep in contact) to becoming a pokemon professor

With his chameleon like nature he'd easily absorb all the information he needed to know

Plus he gets to pretty much travel wherever he wants

But still wants to reunite with Nagi and probably will in the future

Nagi

His starter would be a Froakie since he likes water and ice types

I think he'd start out not really knowing what to do and just following Reo's lead but after battling Chigiri he realizes that he's not doing as much as he can

After that he begins training a lot harder and decides to follow Isagi

I feel like he would let his pokemon out of the pokeballs often just to let them relax with him/be out and about

He has a low key grudge against ground pokemon after a gang of Trapinch (the pokemon that look like crabs low-key) attacked him as a kid

Like Chigiri he is a formidable trainer who ends up winning many competitions/becoming well known quickly

Even though he gets offers to be a gym leader he turns them down/prefers to be more nomadic (which is how he runs into Reo again later on but thats a head cannon for another day)

Rin

His favorite type is steel

I think his starter would be a Treecko

He would totally start out as the loner type with unclear intentions

I don't think he would join Isagi right away but after seeing he can hold his weight in battle/trains in the same spots as him, he does talk to him a bit more

Random but he has a slight dislike towards poison and ghost types/he thinks they're creepy

He would join Isagi and the crew to make his way to his brother's world famous Gym to try to battle him head on

But he'd fail the first time ("As long as you keep thinking of me as your brother, you'll lose") and get motivated to try again thanks to the others

Barou

Favorite types are ground and fighter types

His starter would be a Litten

He's mainly a trainer, known for ripping through battles with unpredictable moves

He does cook/own a few restaurants on the side though

I think that he'd only join the gang after getting beaten by Isagi and Nagi and biting off more than he could chew (it was super close but they had the type advantage)

Mainly he'd join to try to learn from them/"absorb" their skills tbh

He'd try to hide it/be very conscious of it but he came from a family of Wooloo farmers lmao

#isagi #blue lock #blue lock headcannons #bllk #blue lock hcs #bachira #meguru #isagi yoichi #hyoma chigiri #blue lock chigiri #blue lock reo #reo mikage #nagi seishirou #nagi bllk #rin itoshi #blue lock rin #barou #barou bllk

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bimsha · 3 years ago

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Hello! Can I have an Epiphany request for:

Anime - K Project

Character - Hisui Nagare

Song - Always in my heart by Tamaru Yamada

https://youtu.be/ntqxI9I6Opo

This is my first request in your blog and I look forward of how the request will turn out to be! Thank you and take care always! 🖤

Always In My Heart (Hisui Nagare x Reader)

"The life it's not for comparing things So i hold both of light and shadow"

Song : Always in My Heart but Tamaru Yamada

The sky was heavy with clouds, glooming over his head with their unshed raindrops. The tombs in the cemetery shadowed by the gloom standing in perfect lines holding in themselves a heavy sorrow, a sad story behind them. There was no one in sight, except for an old man a few feet away staring at a tomb. His thin, grey hair ruffling in the soft breeze passing them. He broke his gaze from the man back to the tomb in front of him. Gleaming even in the shadowy surroundings. He knelt and placed the bunch of white lilies in front of the tomb. She loved white lilies.

Six months ago, he was woken up to the blinding ceiling above him and the smell of antiseptic, a bitter smell for his sensitive nose. He moved his head to the right and immediately squinted at the blinding light filtering through the translucent curtains. Sitting there on the white windowsill was a vase with fresh flowers. Who would even bother? He thought glumly moving from the creaking hospital bed to a sitting position. He didn’t remember what happened. His last memory was charging at the Red King until his vision blackened. He needed more strength. His name was Nagare Hisui: The Green King, for certain people. He was supposed to be powerful. Powerful than the man he is right now and he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be sitting inside a lonely hospital room. Hisui struggled for a while and finally managed to sit down. There was no one inside the room. He didn’t mind the silence but it was suffocating sometimes. He didn’t have his phone, nor had a way to contact the others.

Hence, he took the best decision he could at the moment (his doctors would probably think it’s the worst decision) He made an attempt to move and managed to place his feet on the cold floor. The male stood up, one hand tightly gripping the bedpost while the other freezing in mid-air as he tried to balance. The truth was, he didn’t use his legs at all. And rarely moved. That was his way of preserving power inside him, and he didn’t blame his legs when they gave him little support and dragged him back to the bed with a pained grunt. He’ll need to try a bit more before he could stand straight on the ground. He moved his hands, planting them firmly on his mattress trying to move again when the corner of his eyes caught movement. Hisui looked up, expecting a doctor or a nurse, but from the crack of his slightly opened door was a girl, probably around his age, looking at him with beady eyes. Hisui frowned, “Who is it?”

She looked startled by the sudden attention. He heard something fall and a not-so-pretty curse soon following the sound. She collected whatever thing fell and opened the door using her elbow. It was only then that he saw the crutches and her bandaged foot. “What are you doing?”

The girl frowned. “I heard someone groaning in pain, I just came to look”

Hisui turned his gaze to her bandaged foot and then looked back at her. “And you’re supposed to be out of bed because?”

She rolled her eyes, “Because I was on my way to the exercise rooms. I need to make sure I’m all better and you’re trying so hard to run away because?”

Hisui glared at her. He had always been a man of few words and a real-life conversation was strictly ignored except for his closest people. “I’m just trying to get up”

She gestured to the corner of the room. Hisui followed her gaze to see the familiar wheelchair. “I think that probably has something to do with your inability to walk at the moment”

Hisui would’ve flushed but he barely constrained himself. He was feeling extra emotional and angry this morning. Probably a side effect of pain killers and he blamed Tenkei for bringing him here and not their usual hideout. She doesn’t seem to notice his overwhelming emotional status as she looks around. “Do you need help?”

Hisui almost snapped back a no but hesitated. He did want to get out of this smell and this building. He’d give anything to get some fresh air. “Yes” after a beat, he added, “please”

The girl walked to him with the aid of her crutches and looped one of her arms around him helping the male to walk towards the wheelchair. It was obviously a bad idea, because one, Hisui put his full weight on the girl because he was barely able to walk and two, you shouldn’t ask help to walk from a person using crutches. The almost knocked over the wheelchair and crashed to the floor. “You said you could help” Hisui said, wondering why he was stupid enough to ask her for help.

“I overestimated my abilities to help you, pardon” She grinned from her place on the floor. She didn’t seem to be least bothered by the fact that both of them were on the floor. And none of them had the ability to walk properly. “Great, just great,” he muttered under his breath. The doctors soon rushed in and helped them from their awkward position and both of them got a heavy warning from the doctors. Hisui scowled at them, looking away. The girl apologized to them again, turning to leave the room when he finally realized he hadn’t even gotten the name of that annoying human being. But before he could talk, she was gone. He could barely make out her outline, limping towards a door just a few feet away from his own hospital room. The rest of the day he finally decided to bear in the hospital for a bit longer. When Tenkei arrived in the afternoon with Sukuna he did his best to compose himself without lunging at him like a hungry wolf. (Not that he was in any status to do that anyway) Tenkei apologized profusely, trying to make amends with the Green King while Sukuna stood behind him making faces and giggling uncontrollably. According to him, seeing Nagare Hisui inside a hospital was a once in a lifetime chance. After the visiting hours were over, they both bid farewell to the male. Tenkei promised him he’d talk about the discharge with the authorities. He barely looked at the food they brought him. Instead, he found himself wondering about the weird girl he met earlier. It was one hell of a first impression she made.

When the nurse came to give him his medication, he actually found himself asking about her. The nurse smiled, “Oh, you must be talking about (Y/n). She had made quite an impression it seems. She’s friendly with everyone around here. She’s quite talkative”

“I can see that” He mumbled, groaning. "Why is she here?”

“She’s an athlete, had a bad injury”

Hisui wanted to know more details and it was strange that he was pestering about this girl he barely knew about but there was an effect on her. Like she had this magnetic force that drew people in. Hisui had to agree, she was pretty weird. He stopped asking questions and just followed the nurse's instructions focusing on getting discharged instead. But it turned out he’d had to spend a couple of days because they had to run a few tests before releasing him. He didn’t have to wait alone for long, because there she was, waving him by the door. “Can I come in?”

Hisui watched her for a second. His expression was passive and cold. For a moment he wanted to tell her to leave but another part of him wanted to invite her in. He settled with a shrug which the girl interpreted to be a welcoming gesture. She limped towards his bed, “Want to see whether today you can actually get to that wheelchair?”

Hisui shrugged. It was closer to his bed than it was before. He gave it a try, and it certainly worked. She grinned, gesturing towards the door. “Let’s go out. Seems like you could use some fresh air”

As much as he wanted not to accept, the sound of fresh air seemed divine. He followed her in his wheelchair as the girl led him towards an open balcony on their floor. It was empty except for a woman sitting in the lobby adjoining the balcony, staring at a magazine. The quietly passed her and stepped into the open balcony, feeling the fresh air surrounding them. “This is heaven” She muttered, leaning against the railing. Her crutches resting beside her.

Hisui stared at her, confused. “Why are you doing this? I don’t even know you”

She smiled, “You’re the only person who’s closer to my age in here. Everyone’s old. So I thought it'd be great to get to know you!” Her voice was cheerful and… magnetic? He couldn’t place it. But there was a way she talked as if she had been your friend for years. Hisui didn’t really associate with people and he had no idea about social cues. The girl standing in front of him, who was nothing but a stranger was trying to be friends with him. Is this how normal human beings function? He wondered cluelessly.

“How can you be so cheerful when your leg is like that? Aren’t you an athlete?”

“Seems like someone had done his homework” She teased good naturedly. “My leg will get better. I can go back to the track field soon after. I’m counting days until I do.”

“Is it worth it?” He asked, “You’d get injured again” It was almost hypocritical that he was asking this. He himself had given up on his own trying to achieve his goals. What mattered to him were the goals and his ambitions. His health was one of the least things in his mind.

“Don’t jinx it.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I’d get better and next time I’d be careful. Running is my dream. What’s life without a dream?”

“An easy one” Hisui blurted out. “You need a goal, not a dream”

She gave him a confused look, “What do you mean?”

“Life is not something to enjoy” Hisui found himself saying. He didn’t know why he was talking about this deep topic with a stranger. But there he was, talking about his ideologies just because he felt she was going after something like that. “It’s a responsibility we all have to carry no matter how bad the outcome will be.”

She was quiet for a moment, “Wow, that’s deep.” (Y/n) sat down on the bench propping her leg on it, looking for a comfortable position. “You can enjoy life, Hisui” He raised his brow when she smiled sheepishly. “I asked your name from one of the nurses. Anyway, as I was saying, don’t you think it’s better to enjoy the life you have than to just think of it as a responsibility? There’s much more to it than you think”

“Don’t you like to be powerful and have control of your life, Y/n? To have your own hidden power?”

She laughed, “You don’t need a power to control your own life Hisui. Your life is yours. What you do with it is your choice.” She sighed, looking at the sky above them, clear blue like a crystal. “It’s sad you think your life is just some game or a responsibility. There’s so much more to it”

Hisui was not convinced but he didn’t talk anymore. He was done with expressing himself deeply for the day. He didn’t know how she was able to get him to talk at all. Did she secretly have a power? Was she serious about not wanting a power? He didn’t find answers to his questions but he did find an annoying friend. After his routine medication, Y/n bursts into his room with a grin. “I’ve got something!” She announced, jumping to his bed, WITHOUT his consent. She was close that he could smell her hair. He almost drew away when she dropped a game console in his hand. “I’ve got the staff to let us play video games!” Her voice was cheery, almost as if she had won the gold medal at the Olympics. Hisui stared dumbly at the device when the screen in his room lit up.

“You don’t know what you’re signing up for" Hisui said quietly, gripping on his console. “You’re going to lose”

She huffed, offended by his remark. “The confidence. Let’s see that after the game sweetheart. I’ve got this one”

Actually, she was bad at it. She was so bad at video games that Hisui almost laughed. But her determination was incredible. “One more. I think I got it” She said, leaning forward, squinting at the screen. “Just a little more push”

Hisui shook his head as the screen displayed Game Over. She groaned, falling back to the bed as if it was her own. For the first time in his life, Hisui didn’t mind someone he barely knew was right beside him, playing video games and losing like a pro. “Told you”

“You’re just too good at this” She muttered, sitting back up. “Teach me your ways, sensei”

“No”

“Rude” She groaned, “One more game?”

“You’re going to lose, what’s the difference?”

“It’s fun?”

“It is not”

“You smiled though” She said with a cocky grin. Hisui was quite sure he DID NOT smile.

“I didn’t” He added firmly, crossing his arms. “You’re imagining things”

“Isn’t this fun?” This time Hisui actually answered the question.

“A bit, I guess”

“What do you think about life now?” She asked hopefully. Hisui actually snorted at that question.

“Life is not a video game.”

She scowled, nudging him with her elbow. The bandages were off her leg, Hisui noticed, blinking. And she was not even wearing the hospital gown. How did he miss those changes? “Are you out of the hospital?”

“Took you exactly two hours to notice, congrats! But yes I am. Still not allowed in the fields but I’m trying on my own.” She patted her leg. “I’d be up and running in no time”

“Don’t you get sick of it?” Hisui asked, leaning back. “Do you think any of this has any meaning at all?"

She leaned back with him. Their heads were just a few centimeters apart from each other. They both stared at the ceiling. “Does it matter? As long as I know my dreams, as long as I can be with the people who are precious to me, I don’t care.” She turned her head to look at his eyes. “Life is not something you calculate and walk through. Take it as you can and try your best and you’ll see the light at the end of the tunnel, that’s what my mom told me.”

Precious people, Hisui thought, moving his gaze back to the ceiling. His mind instantly landed on the small group he always had with him. The only family he ever had. Hisui loved and cared for them, he really did. But was it enough? Y/n laughed beside him. “You got your thinking face on. Stop being so hard on yourself”

“I am not being hard on myself”

“You are being hard on yourself. You never smile, you’re always like this” She made a ridiculous expression on her face.

Hisui leaned in and flicked her forehead, groaning. “I do not” He felt his lips curl into a smile. A genuine smile that lightened his heart. She truly had this aura around him that cheered others up in an instant.

“See? You look really good when you’re smiling”

Hisui scowled, “Shut up”

Their conversation was cut short by Yukari, who walked in with a handful of bags and a bunch of flowers being the gentleman he is. Hisui’s eyes instantly landed on the flowers, white lilies. “Aren’t those for funerals?” He didn’t care Yukari saw him with the girl, he had his eyes on the flowers.

Y/n slapped his arm, standing up. “Those are white lilies!” She exclaimed looking at him. “They symbolize purity and rebirth. Like I can go back to the field again!” She twirled around with a laugh. “Stop seeing negativity and start looking for something positive young man” She bowed to Yukari who looked rather impressed.

“The young lady knows what she’s talking about. Think positively Hisui”

She smiled, a gentle smile that was always there when she talked with him. She waved, “I’d see you two around then. And you” She pointed a threatening finger. “Don’t you dare say anything about white lilies, they are my favourite flowers”

Yukari raised his brow with an amused smile as she left the room and Hisui found himself already missing her. After that, Y/n didn’t come around for a few days. Hisui quietly wondered whether she had finally gotten enough of him when she walked in just the day before his discharge. “Hello, missed me?”

“No” Hisui answered right off the bat.

“Liar liar pants on fire” She sang along, walking in. Her hair moving to her moments, the curls at the end bouncing with rhythm. He didn’t know when he started to notice the little things about her. “Wanna go to the rooftop?”

Hisui shrugged. He had done some exercise the past few days and now with some help he could actually move. Y/n wrapped one of her arms around him helping him up. They both took the lift to reach the rooftop. As soon as they reached there, Hisui collapsed onto a bench with an exhausted sigh. She sat down beside him. Both of them were welcomed by the blue sky, patterned with white clouds. The breeze around them was comforting. “I finally started practicing again” she said. There was this glint of excitement in her eyes that Hisui never saw when looking in the mirror. She was actually passionate about what she loved.

“Good for you” He said, allowing himself to be happy for her.

“What are you going to do when you leave? I don’t know a thing about you”

“I don’t know. Just continue what I have been doing, I guess.” He stated with a sigh. He had no idea what he wanted to do anymore. She had changed something in him. “Don’t you get scared?” He asked, “There will always be someone better than you no matter how hard you try. Don’t you think everyone should have the same powers and talents?”

She shrugged, “If you keep comparing yourself to others your whole life, you’re not living it, you’re judging yourself. The best is to keep trying your best and treat yourself like you deserve everything you have right now. If everyone had equal things the world would be so boring. When I see someone powerful than me, it gives me a thrill to try harder. Gives me a purpose. I’m going to reach that level”

The wind carried the long locks of her hair behind her. Hisui felt a tingling sensation to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. “Aren’t you afraid Y/n? You’d lose yourself if you just kept pushing yourself like that”

She turned around to look at him and laughed nudging their shoulders together. “Silly, I know who I am” She placed a hand on her chest, proudly huffing. “Right here in my heart I’ll always know me”

Hisui hummed, not answering. He turned back to the sky as both sat there in the comfortable silence, reminiscing the words they had spoken, the depths they had gone into each other’s souls. After some time, they decided to head back. The air was getting colder around them. She stood by the door looking at him for a moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow! I’d come back with chocolates to celebrate you getting discharged!”

Hisui’s heart skipped a beat and he nodded. She waved at him with the same grin painting her face. He watched her skipping her way towards the lift and waited for it.

That was the last time he saw her.

When he got discharged the next day, his sapphire blue eyes scanned for her figure but found none. The days following were only silence. He grew impatient and finally decided to seek her out. When Tenkei was informed about her address, he went to her place to see her. He had this rare excitement playing upon his heart. A woman opened the door and when he asked her name, the woman’s face crumpled like a sheet of paper. She burst into tears. Hisui stood by the door, stunned when a man came to the door and invited him in. They took him into a room but there was no Y/n. There was only a picture of her sitting on a low table, a vase of white lilies in front of her smiling picture. The same gentle smile. A car crash had stolen her life. The life of the girl who had been the most lively person he had ever met.

He placed the white lilies on the ground in front of the grave stone. Briefly brushing his fingers over the gray tombstone. He crouched in front of it and smiled. A sad watery smile. Silently thanking her for her words that showed him a new path in life. Thanking her for the life lessons she gave him without even knowing. To the moments they shared that he actually enjoyed. Even though brief, she was the most significant person he had ever met in life. Kind, cheerful and beautiful. He wondered what would’ve happened if he was brave enough that day. To talk about his feelings. To tell her that she’s beautiful. If he could’ve gotten a few more moments, he would’ve kissed her lips and told her how amazing she is. How she saved his life.

He walked out of the cemetery with a sad smile. Life does twist in the most painful ways. When someone’s gone, we start regretting the things we were unable to say. Things we were unable to express. It’s just how life works. Y/n’s words echoed in his heart.

“Right here in my heart I’ll always know me”

"I don't know the meaning of life But I know what's truly precious The way it's leading me to be in love No fear I can find me always in my heart"

I have nothing to say myself besides saying I'm really sorry for taking months to do this. I don't blame you if you have forgotten my existence. ;-; I have been lazy af and the full blame is on me. I'm really sorry for making you wait for so long! ))): I'm really sorry again.

#k #K prject #Green clan #Hisui Nagare #Major character death #Sukuna #Tenkei #Yukari #x reader #k project x reader #Hisui nagare x reader #Epiphany #Always in my heart #female reader oneshot #fanfic

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strangerivy · 4 years ago

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Caught

Summary: Born in the underground, you were doomed to die there. With your will to survive you tried to steal from Levi Ackerman, caught in the act he sees something in you, taking you in under his wing. It's been five years since then and you are loyal as ever to him and would follow him anywhere, even to the corps. Warnings: Swearing | Mild Violent Depictions Pairings: Levi Ackerman x Reader (y/n) Genre: 18+ | Tiny Amounts of Fluff Word Count: 2.3k Author’s Note: My first Levi fic! I apologize if there is some inaccuracies I tried to find out as much info as I could on the AOT universe and the character backstories. For the sake of the stories Levi is 26 in this particular moment in time, which i believe is within rough estimate of what he would of been around this time and the reader is 24. As always I would love to hear what you guys think and if there is any scenarios you would like to see for a Levi fic just send me a message!

|| Masterlist | AOT Masterlist ||

Year 844 - Summer

The Underground. God, what a dump. But I guess you couldn’t complain too much, at least you had a roof over your head, and you ate alright compared to most in the underground. Of course, none of this would have been possible on your own. Levi was mostly the brains of everything. It was him who saw something in you when you tried to steal from him, offering a bed and food how could you say no? What he saw though? You still don’t know to this day and every time you ask; he just smirks and walks off without a word.

That was five years ago now and you were as loyal as ever to him. Of course, you did NOT appreciate how he made you scrub your body raw when he first brought you back to Furlan and his place throwing out your old, ripped clothes and exchanged them for new clean ones.

You launched your hooks of your ODM gear into a nearby building launching yourself forward, you eyed Levi through your hair seeing him shoot a glance at you before turning his attention back ahead. You looked over to your left at Isabel who gave you a beaming bright smile.

You were glad when she showed up on your guy's doorsteps only a few years ago now. It was nice having another girl around even though she was younger than you and had a more innocent look on the world despite living in the underground.

“Y/N,” Levi pulls you out of your thoughts and you look over at him with curious eyes, he doesn’t say anything but gestures with his head behind him. You look over your shoulder seeing what looks to be MP’s. Only this time, there seems to be more than the usual, and while the three in front were in their usual attire the four in the back had on emerald green cloaks with hoods that hid their faces. It seems that the honorary guest has finally arrived.

“Heh, military police again, it seems they never learn,” Isabel looked back looking rather bored at seeing the MP’s, but quickly looked up at Levi with a big smile, “Hey bro was that line cool or what?” She beamed, making you let out a small chuckle at how proud she was.

“Are you dense?” Levi answered plainly causing her to frown.

“Don’t worry Isabell, I thought it was pretty cool,” You smiled over at her and she grinned back at you. Levi took the lead, maneuvering his way around the tight corners of the buildings with ease, the rest of you easily following with your own individual flairs. Levi always said it looked like you were dancing when it came to how you moved in your ODM gear.

When Levi first introduced you to the ODM gear, you were skeptical, not sure if you would like to risk your life in the gear but after seeing Levi use the gear so easily you took him up on the training. Much to Levi’s surprise, you took to the gear with graceful ease.

Your group's quick maneuvering threw off the MP’s that we’re following you losing control of their ODM gear unable to make the sharp turn but the four with the cloaks made it with ease. You shot your hooks out pulling forward through another road ending up next to Furlan this time, Levi now right in front of the three of you after pulling a trick move on our four pursuers.

“That movement, those aren’t MP’s,” Furlan pointed out looking back at the group as they moved easily back onto your tail.

“No,” You agreed, Levi, looked back at you with a blank expression as if to check on you before turning forward again.

“It’s them,” Levi answered, Furlan, letting out a small gasp turning in his gear a little to get a better look at them, “It’s the wings of freedom crest otherwise known as the Survey Corps.”

You grimaced knowing now it was time for your plan to take action, you looked back at the cloaked group before turning back to Levi, you speed up a little on your gas to move beside him and he gave a nod.

“Seems these battle-ready soldiers are a cut above the rest, aye Levi?” Furlan asked with such confidence it made you smirk. Levi glanced over at you.

“You ready?” He asked and you gave a quick nod and then he looked back.

“You two, you know what to do?” Levi asked Furlan and Isabel.

“Of course,” Isabel confirmed, and I could hear the smirk in her voice. I watched as their cables released from the walls pulling back and heard their gear take off in opposite directions of each other shortly after I heard two of the corps people take off after them.

“Let’s see what they’ve got,” You said looking over at Levi with a smirk.

“Y/N,” You looked over at Levi to see he was already looking over at you, “Be careful,”

You shot him a smirk getting into position, “Always,”

You both released your hooks grappling into a nearby alley pulling yourselves faster letting the gear gracefully pull you through the air. Levi and you easily twisting through the air to avoid the clothing lines. Levi shot his hooks into an open window of a run-down building, disappearing with precise speed. You opted above, grappling to the top of the roof launching yourself quick into the air, quickly twirling into the direction you wanted before grappling to a building in the next street over.

You spotted Levi just below you but just before you were going to move down towards him you watched as one of the core members cut him off slamming into him making him lose his foot for a moment. You let out a growl pulling yourself forward to get to him but was suddenly knockdown by a body slamming into you. You let out a scream as you lost control of the gear hitting a canopy from a shop stall then falling on to the ground with a loud smack the air from your lungs pushed out of you with force.

You let out a couple of coughs from the impact getting air back into your lungs. You let out a groan as you sat up looking down the alley seeing Levi holding back one of the corps members. You went to move to get up before you were quickly grabbed, your arms held back behind you.

“Levi!” You yelled in a panic trying to fight off your captor, “Get your hands off me!” You screamed tugging at your wrist that was held with a firm tight grip. The sound of clanking metal coming from behind you. A moment later you felt the cool metal on your wrist and the click of the lock.

“Hey let me go! Asshole!” You looked up to see Isabel and Furlan brought into the alley from the two other corps members. Isabel kicking and screaming in chaotic Isabel fashion. Furlan standing there looking collected as ever.

Levi looked back at those two and then back towards you, his face relaxing but with a harsh glare towards the man and then his knife dropping to the ground as he surrendered. Your captor pushed you to move forward. The Scotts lined you up forcing you to your knees as who you assumed was their leader stood in front of you. A tall blonde hair blue-eyed man with an intense gaze but not as intimating as Levi’s. The man was a giant though compared to your 5”2’ stature and there was something about the way that he carried himself that made him look so determined like nothing could stop him from reaching whatever goal he set for himself.

He held up one of your ODM gears to the four of you. “I want to ask you a few questions, where did you get these?” he asked looking at the four of you but then landing on Levi where his gaze stayed. The four of you remained quiet, “Each one of you is pretty skilled, who was your instructor?” More silence from the four of you. The man remained calm taking a few steps forward stopping in front of Levi. You looked over at him with a sharp glare and he eyed you with a curious look before turning to look back at Levi.

“You must be their leader have you ever undertaken squad training before?” He asked directly to Levi now. Levi remained quiet his gaze never moving from the ground. After a minute of silence, a hand shot out into your view grabbing Levi tightly by the hair pulling him backward, and then slamming his face into the ground into a puddle soaking the ends of the collar of his shirt brown with the muddy water.

You let out a growl and fought your bindings to get to Levi, one of the other Corp members coming to hold your still by grabbing a hold of your arms.

“Get your hand off him,” You screamed with a protective rage.

“Asshole!” Isabel shouted angrily at the corps member. Levi struggled to turn his head out of the muddle shaking with anger as he glared up at the blonde.

“I’ll ask again, where did you learn to use the 3D maneuver gear?” Levi remained silent once again keeping his eyes trained on the man and vice versa. Never breaking their gaze from each other, almost as if they were challenging one another.

“Is it really that crazy?” Furlan shouted up at the blonde, “We’re self-taught!”

“Self-taught? That’s absurd,” The man said not believing what was the actual truth.

“We wanted to escape this place, something a man like you could never understand! You lived your whole life above ground while we suffered down here!” Furlan yelled at the man.

“Yeah, now take your filthy hands off of my bro!” Isabel yelled up at the man “Stop pretending to be all tough just because you’re soldiers,” The man hummed curiously looking up at the man who was holding Levi’s head down speaking to him silently. The one holding Levi down grabbed him by his hair lifting back him up.

The blonde kneeled to Levi looking at him curiously, “My name is Erwin Smith, what is your name?”

“Levi,” Levi spoke for the first time.

“Levi, I’m going to make you a deal,” the blonde, now known as Erwin, offered, Levi raised an eyebrow at him.

“A deal?” He questioned.

“We will let you and your group off the hook this time, I only ask for your strength.” Erwin paused his growing more serious as he stared down at Levi, “Join the Survey Corps, or else.” You all let out a gasp at the offer looking at Levi to see what his response was. But you already knew what it would be. The plan going well so far. You just need to keep playing the part.

Levi narrowed his eyes at Erwin, “Or else what?”

“You’ll be handed over to the military police and considering the length of your Rap Sheet. The military police will make sure you guys suffer far worse than anything down here.” Erwin walked back a few steps looking out into the underground before turning around with a knowing smirk, “You make the call Levi,”

Levi stayed silent staring up at Erwin, water dripping from the ends of his hair from the puddle he was shoved into. “Very well,” He agreed but a cold glare on his face towards Erwin showed his distrust to the man, “I’ll join the Survey Corps, you bastard.”

Your body tensed as the realization hit that the plan has worked so far but that also meant you were going to have to be a part of the military for a time. Levi was the first to have the cuffs removed and then you, Levi moved over to you kneeling, gently taking your hands turning them over to inspect your wrist.

“You alright?” He asked softly seeing the red marks on your skin left by the cuffs from you pulling on them, his thumb rubbing over them gently as to not irritate the skin more. You felt butterflies in your stomach as he broke his cold stare for a moment replaced with a warm caring gaze before helping you stand returning to back his usually unamused look before anyone else could see.

Except for Furlan that is, he was looking over at you with a knowing smirk as Levi went to check on Isabel. That kid didn’t miss a damn thing. You remember back to a night not too long after you agreed to join their group after living with them for a few months where he mentioned that Levi seemed to have a soft spot for you, you called him an idiot and he laughed waving you off. But since that night you couldn’t help but notice the small things he did differently with you.

You rubbed your wrist as he went to check on Isabel and Furlan. The Scouts lead you out of the underground and you paused as you were about to step out on the surface. You had to admit you were a bit nervous. You had never stepped outside and you honestly never thought you would. The underground was all you knew. It may have been full of struggle and holds some of your darkest memories, but it was familiar at least. You knew what to expect from your day-to-day life.

Isabel stopped next to you feeling your uneasiness, you looked over at her with a small frown upset with yourself for not being able to do something as easy as taking a step. She offered out her hand and you stared at it.

“Together?” She offered quietly with a toothy grin, you let out an uneasy breath with a slight nod grabbing hold of her hand as you both crossed the threshold to the surface together with a smile and chuckle. You looked up with bright eyes at Levi and Furlan who were standing there waiting for the two of you. Furlan with a bright smile and Levi with the hint of one his lip twitching up.

“Tch, idiots,”

|| Masterlist | AOT Masterlist ||

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fic #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #captain levi #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi attack on titan #furlan church #isabel magnolia #erwin smith

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settersloveletters · 4 years ago

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NO. 1 FAN

• part nineteen; call me daddy coach

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⤷ y/n will always go out of her way for her family, especially for her 7 year old niece, who happens to be kageyama tobio’s number one fan. what happens when the charming sweetheart, y/n, meets the emotionally null, kageyama tobio? and what happens when those two fall in love at first sight?

a/n: we’ve converted to the moon icon for kags. just to keep it consistent hahah. anyways, this is 90% shameless smut and 10% sum serious shit :)) ALSO i removed the cut for both parts cuz tumblr is being fucky wucky rn. will add them back when its normal

[!] below this is lots of smut. BOLDED TEXT IS IMPORTANT TO THE STORY [!]

➳ word count: 3k

➳ warnings: smut!!! coach-kink??? raw sex, creampie, the slightest amount of pregnancy kink and size kink.

“Hey, are you alright, baby? What’s up with that text you sent?” You greet Kageyama right when you open the door for him. Wrapping your arms around him, you give a gentle kiss on his cheek. Shutting the door behind him, he sighs as he sets his bags down and removes his shoes. “It’s nothing,” placing a kiss on your head before pulling you into the living room.

“Hm.. okay. What did you want to do today? Since, we’re all alone,” you push Kageyama onto the couch, grabbing his face and getting a good look into his eyes. Maybe it’s your mind playing games and overthinking, but he’s very tired; a distant emptiness in him.

“Anything you want, Y/n,” breaking eye contact with you to instead pull you into his embrace. Feeling your small warmth press against him eases all the stresses, tensions, doubts in his heart. You’re the medicine that heals him of all his pains.

“Sal’s not here. So you aren’t gonna get your Sunday workout..”

“Yes, and what about it?”

“How about,” clasping your hands in his, you pull him off the cushions of the couch and slowly lead him towards your bedroom, “you be my coach today?” His typical stern expression almost cracks at your words. Before he can even interject, you’ve guided him into your bedroom which is dimly lit regardless of the peak sunlight outside. Counting your frequent excursions and chill hangouts, Kageyama is very familiar with this room. The smell, the look, the plush sheets and what can be found where. It’s comfortable.

“I’m your coach for today? What are we practicing today though?” he teasingly asks, well knowing what you want. He stands in front of your bed as you lay yourself down, admiring the Adonis in the room. Far bigger, taller and stronger than you, he always has you weak at the legs and embarrassingly sore the next day. He’s also so stubborn; when he has a goal and motive, he’ll accomplish it even if it means spending that extra hour.

“Endurance training, of course,” you chuckle while copying his exact words from that first time, waiting for him to bed you. “You think this is funny?” He’s quickly making his way to the bed, finding his spot right on top of you, looking down at you with slight agitation. The more you two have fun, the bolder you two get. You’ve learned the pleasures of provoking Kageyama, teasing him, convincing him he can’t do something, just for him to come back with ten times more passion and aggression. And he’s learned how far you like being pushed, held, edged, tortured even. You have aligned perfectly with each other.

“Yes, it’s so funny, Kags,” you laugh at him again while wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in to kiss you. He doesn’t budge though, instead choosing to place a firm hand on your jaw, so close to gripping your neck in the softest of squeezes. “I don’t think that’s how you address your coach.” He’s almost there.

“Oh, you liked that idea? Me calling you coach? How perverted, Kageyama,” you smirk, knowing exactly what to do to change the calm stoic boy into a man who only shows himself to you alone. And all he wants to do is to unravel you like he plans.

Kageyama doesn’t miss a beat, swiftly unbuttoning the front of your too tight top, watching the way he unwraps you like a birthday gift. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, pretty girl,” he says, low and steadily, before using both hands to rub along your body. His touch trails your exposed skin, stopping at your breasts which are hidden beneath your bra, tempting him to just strip you bare and take you right there. “Coach, take it off me.”

“You just don’t know your place today, huh?” feeling no remorse, Kageyama roughly flips you over, laying you on your stomach and wasting no time in ripping all the clothes off your body. First, that stupid bra that is the exact shade of blue he loves seeing on you, then those poor excuse of shorts that do no good at hiding that cute little behind of yours. He leaves you trembling there in his presence, and in the soaked matching red thong that hugs your hips so well.

Palming his large hands on the flesh of your ass, Kageyama lands an experimental tap, sending fiery jolts across your skin and a yelp out your lips. “Baby, I’ll give you a second chance. But if you choose to test me again,” rubbing your reddening cheek softly, “you’re not going to get your needy pussy fucked, okay?”

You would have never expected such a dork like Kageyama to have such a filthy mouth. He never fails to surprise you. Grinding back against his touch, you give him a nod in response. Face flush flat into the pillows, you have no clue what he’s doing, what his face looks like, what he’s thinking. It isn’t until both his hands grab the sides of your hip, pulling you so your ass is up, back arched.

“Well, since I’m your coach today, I think we should start with basic stretches. Sounds good?”

“Mhm, things have been feeling too tight lately, coach..”

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll help you out with that,” he stifles a laugh while reassuring his cute student. Peeling back the panties that hug your ass, removing them completely, Kageyama sits back to revel in the sight of your glistening cunt. You shiver at the feeling of the room’s draft against your exposed pussy, pulsing around nothing, much to his enjoyment. Using his thumbs, he pulls the skin of your lips apart, collecting the honey and massaging it into your sensitive skin.

“Hm, this is a tough job. I’m not sure if you’ll stretch too well. Your cunt looks too tight, doll,” Kageyama chides, giving another playful spank on your ass. You whine against the pillow, too frustrated to express your feelings through words. All you can manage to do is turn your head back, looking at him, eyes borderline glossy with tears and arousal which sends a tang straight to his heart.

“Fuck, if you look at me like that.. might just have to force it to open up. Is that what you want?” You eagerly nod in approval, slightly swaying your hips left and right to entice him all the more. The twisted thought of Kageyama, a man that towers over you, has a cock far too big for your pussy, and can physically do whatever he pleases with you, excites you two to no end.

You watch in anticipation as he gets off the bed, never breaking eye contact with each other as he tugs his shirt off. You’ve seen it more than a handful of times now, but the built structure of his body, toned muscles and all, has your mouth agape and legs shaking. He begins undoing the drawstring of his sweatpants, allowing them to drop onto the ground, leaving him in only his boxers. A visible tent already pinching the fabric at a point. He’s lowering the waistband and revealing the girth underneath, tossing the fabric aside. You never fail to rile him up, and that’s what he loves so much.

“Baby, I don’t know how many times I have to say it. But, why are you so hot?”

“I don’t know, doll. I’ll ask you the same,” he gives you the softest of smiles.

Getting on the bed again, Kageyama leans in against you, trailing warm kissing on the surface of your back, along your spine and stopping at your sensitive neck.

“We haven’t kissed at all today, did you notice?” claiming a long kiss on the nape of your neck, leaving a light bruise that has you getting chills across your skin. He slightly bucks his hips against yours, loving the way his cock brushes against your soothing touch.

“‘Course I noticed. I tried, but you wouldn’t let me..” you respond in a meek tone, which has him flipping you around, face to face once again. Looking into your hazed gaze, Kageyama inches closer before locking his lips with yours. Gentle lips that kiss him back, and tongues connecting sensually. Occasionally gasping for air, you two engage in kisses, both kind and devilish, for what seems to be a full lifetime.

Without even realizing it, Kageyama begins rubbing his fingers along your slit, lips muffling your sudden squeak. His cold digits collect your love juices, before using a single finger to probe your entrance. Your hips involuntarily grind against him, voice humming for more, for him to give you more.

“Doll, gotta take things slow. I don’t want to hurt you, okay?” he asserts, using his non-dominant hand to pet your hair in comforting strokes. Steadily moving his finger in and out of your pussy, he indulges in quiet flutters of your walls around him, the way you tighten whenever he looks into your eyes, or breaths against your tender skin. “Coach, another, please?”

“I call the shots here. I’ll know when you’re ready.”

“Hm, but your fingers always feel so good in me. I can’t handle it anymore,” you praise, hitting those happy nerves in his brain.

“Fine. Don’t complain to me after for being sore,” he spits before forcing another cold finger into you, pushing satisfyingly deep. “Yes, coach. Won’t complain,” you gasp through the thrusts of his fingers. Your blissed face has Kageyama growing painfully hard and in need for your heat to finally engulf him. His two fingers turn into three, make audible noises as he scissors and pulls in and out, stretching you just like your coach promised.

Kageyama’s aching for your touch at this point, so without question, he removes his digits, inspecting the honey-like accumulation of love that coats his fingers. “Nice and wet for him, huh?” he teasingly comments, and all you can do is squint your eyes back at him, with your typical bratty attitude. He firmly grabs at your jaw again as a warning, knowing he’s given far too many chances for your insolent behaviour, but can never fully bear torturing or punishing you because his love is just that strong.

“Okay, get up. You’re doing glute workouts now that you’re properly stretched.”

“W-what?” you stutter, genuinely believing he was serious. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was going to make you follow through. Kageyama moves your body aside, only to take your spot and sit up against your bed’s headboard. Tilting his head to look at you with those piercing eyes, “C’mon, it’s no time for a break. Ride me.”

“Ka- coach..” you lugg yourself up so you can seat yourself in his lap, arms wrapping around his neck to support yourself in the new position. Seeing you breathless without even putting it in you has Kageyama flustered and his heart beating. You grab his girth and rub it against your entrance, not yet putting it in. “You’re okay with doing it raw today?” he grabs onto your waist, before you can lower yourself any further, reassuring you were okay with this. This vulnerable feeling, this closeness both you and him share, you were fine with doing anything as long as it’s with him.

Weaving your fingers through his dark locks, you look Kageyama in the eyes, “Yes, my love. It’s a safe day, so let’s have some fun, yeah?” Engaging in one last kiss, he allows you to lower down onto the head of cock, the stinging stretch of your walls around him. The feeling of your bare pussy squeezing against his cock has Kageyama bucking his hips, in desperation to feel more.

“Hey there, you gotta start moving. This is still part of our training,” urging you to take him deeper, to which you do. Inch by inch, you relax yourself onto his length, down down down until all eight inches are buried within you. Kageyama grunts, wallowings in the tightness of your heat wrapped graciously around his cock. You whine loudly against his neck, too overwhelmed over the intrusive size inside you.

“C-coach, why is your cock so big?” moaning as you raise your hips slowly, allowing him to feel every rib of your walls hug his shaft. His face grows redder at your words, and you swear he grows just a tiny bit harder too. “Don’t say those types of things to m-”

“Fuck, it reaches so damn deep, baby. Feels so fucking good, oh my god,” interrupting him, you continue your obscensent sighs and praise as your hips build a steady rhythm. Rolling your hips, you grind against all the good parts while continuing to give him the steady satisfying friction for his cock. Kageyama’s given up on trying to talk to you, or scold you, instead leaking quiet whines and less than quiet moans. “Why don’t you try fucking me now, huh? I’m getting tir-” A firm strike to your ass cuts you off mid sentence as Kageyama firmly grabs onto your hips, setting his own pace now.

“How does it feel to be interrupted, huh?” he mocks you, before slamming his hips into yours, in a quickening pace the room begins filling with the sounds of wet thrusts and skin on skin. You squeak when he lays another spank across your ass, cheek burning up from the impact. He’s a pro athlete with extremely toned arms, so those harsh love taps are bound to leave marks.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to int-”

“S’okay, doll,” right after cutting you off once more, he looks down at you with the most condescending look and thrusts his cock, perfectly hitting your sweet spot. Repeatedly targeting that spot has you becoming a babbling mess. His hold on your hips prevents you from moving, as he thrusts up into your cunt like you’re some doll. You love the way he has you seeing fireworks, the way his cock stretches you out so well, and the way he reaches insanely deep, up against your cervix. You love it so much actually, to the point where you start saying things you didn’t mean to say… Well, not yet at least.

“Baby, I love you so much, oh gosh. Can’t.. Your cock feels so good, ahhh.”

“(Y/n), did y-”

“Fuck, please, please, please. Cum inside me, please? I wanna feel ya up against my womb when you c-”

“What the fuck are you saying, (Y/n)?” Regardless of his presumably concerned words, Kageyama quickens the speed of his hips, chasing this desired high and forbidden idea of cumming inside the love of his life.

“Mmm, you know exactly what I’m saying. I know you aren’t that dumb,” you brain is too fried to know when to stop with your words. “I’m not the fucking dumb one when you are the one who’s basically begging to be knocked up. Is that what you want, doll?” he leans up close to your ear and hums those tempting words as he stops his rapid thrusts, instead grinding his cock against the deepest parts of your sopping cunt.

“‘Course, baby. Want your cum right inside here,” you whine again as you pull his hand, placing it on the surface of your tummy, reveling in the way he moans loudly. There was something about what you said that had Kageyama in a loss for thoughts, heart skipping every other beat. Even if this was all in the heat of the moment, heat of lust and desire, what he felt far surpassed mere infatuation.

“Gonna cum..” he whispers, groaning at the way you swivel your hips in his lap, bringing you both closer and closer. He wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace, tipping you over the edge. He loves you. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, feeling the warmth seep through your core as he paints your walls white. You’re left breathless as Kageyama basks in the event of his high.

“I can’t believe I actually c.. inside you..”

“Felt nice though, right?” you coo into his ear. His face and ears burning up as you lift yourself off his lap, releasing the softening cock from your insides. The mix of your juices and his cum slowly drips out, which has him groaning at the sight. With a soft kiss on the lips, Kageyama lays you on the bed again before getting up to prepare a warm towel.

Patting you clean of all the grime of the dirty encounter, he takes one good look at your body, face, eyes and sighs. For a man with no true understanding of his own emotions, you’ve learned to read and interpret them in lieu of that. But right now, for the first time, you don’t know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling.

“Was it bad, or something..? We can talk about it,” you pull him in to rest and lay beside you, face to face. Those deep blue eyes say so many things, intense love and desire, but also, grief and sadness, all at the same time. He doesn’t respond to you. “Are you feeling okay? What’s wrong?” You grab onto his hand, feeling the slight tremble and shake beneath his skin.

He can't leave you when you look at him with such love, or hold his hands with such care, or speak to him with such concern. He just can’t.

“I’m leaving, Y/n.. I got an offer for Team Italy.”

- TAGLIST -

(taglist continues in the replies!!)

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #kageyama smau #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama smut #no.1 fan #bad hours #admin kae

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theblackbutterfly02 · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! I saw your reblog of the sad prompts list and because I love your writing so much is it ok for me to request a sormik themed one? I don't really have a preference on the prompt, rather I'd like it to be a tainted AU? (repetitive plotline I know). Can be either meebo or sorey, just not the two of them unless they both get better, that's just too much malevolence :(. Sorry, if I did a bad job, I've never requested something before :O

Heyyy, first off aaaaaaa I'm so glad you like my writing enough to stop by in my inbox! Don't worry, your request is clear and understandable! Also! Never feel bad about requesting tainted AU's, they are great!

This turned out to be more introspection and less plot than I wanted it too but I hope you can enjoy it anyway!

When he came back after collecting herbs and berries Mikleo found Sorey still sitting in the same spot he did this morning, looking out to the horizon with his feet dangling over the cliff. He wondered if it was the light that shone through the trees or just his own imagination, refused it to be reality that made the aura of malevolence around Sorey seem that much stronger than before. With a sigh he set his basket aside.

When the malevolence first settled in Sorey he noticed something was off before anyone else did, though he couldn't quite name what it was. Once Mikleo understood what it was though, he forced Sorey to as many breaks as they could afford, to get his mind off the duty bestowed upon him, to try and get the shepherd to talk to him. Even now he still was...

"You know", Mikleo said as he sat down with his back pressed against Sorey's. "It was easier when you were lying to me and thought I didn't see right through it." He was almost glad when he heard Sorey grunt in acknowledgement of his words. It meant he was listening and that was more than what he usually got out of Sorey when he tried to talk to him. "At least I could try to understand what you were thinking or.. feeling when you were still talking to me. Like this.." He turned his head to the side, looking over to the ruin they stayed in. The sun was slowly setting, shining it's last rays through the tall trees. He used to think sunsets were romantic but now the orange-red colour of them had his stomach turning. It shouldn't have been like this. "I don't even know if you still want me by your side anymore. Or rather.." Mikleo tugged his legs to his chest, hugging his arms around them. "I know what you told me when I first came with you, but even though you told me to leave back then, I could tell you wanted me to stay. Right now, I can't tell what it is you want anymore."

But after Lailah broke their pacts, after Sorey had lost the ability to purify and everyone could tell malevolence had settled in the shepherd Sorey had told Mikleo to leave. And that was the last word he spoke to Mikleo in over a week now.

"We all pushed you too far", Mikleo continued after a short break. "We shouldn't have asked so much of you. You had a whole world to consider and still you kept smiling." Mikleo chuckled. "You had us fooled pretty good with that one. I always thought I knew you so well, but I really should have noticed what was going on sooner. I said I wasn't going to be a burden anymore and yet, how many times did I push you forward when I should have opted for a break?" With a sigh he let his head sink down onto his knees. "So, if you don't want me by your side anymore, I get it. If you're telling me to leave again and you really mean it, I'll go this time. I won't keep bothering you. Just know that.. I still want to support you in every way I can. You just..", Mikleo had to suppress a sob, his eyes burning with unshed tears all of a sudden. He longed to hear Sorey's voice again so badly. "You just have to talk to me."

But Sorey stayed silent and Mikleo waited. He waited until the sun had sunken below the hills and the cold blue hues of the night covered the almost cloudless sky. He waited until the first stars sprang to life. And he sighed. Not today either, then, he thought.

"Well, I should prepare dinner then", he said and pressed his hands to the ground to push himself up.

But he stopped when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist.

"Stay", Sorey whispered and it was so silent Mikleo almost missed it. But he heard it and despite his smile his tears finally fell. Sorey had asked him to stay and that might mean that he was finally ready to talk, that he had something more to say than this one word. But even if he didn't Mikleo was so, so happy for this single word didn't only mean for him to stay sitting like this. Somewhere behind this simple word he heard Sorey telling him to stay by his side, not only today but forever.

"I wouldn't dare go anywhere else", Mikleo whispered just as silent. He hoped it was reassuring enough, even if Sorey's hand didn't move away from his wrist. He didn't mind the contact at all.

And so Mikleo waited again. For Sorey, he would always wait.

A wind picked up as the night went on, not warm but not unpleasantly cold either. Mikleo allowed it to play with his hair, thinking back to Dezel. He knew Sorey must be doing the same.

The wind seemed to push the last clouds out of the sky as well and an almost full moon shone down bright on the two of them. It was so silent Mikleo almost jumped when Sorey spoke again.

"It wasn't your fault", he said and relief spread through Mikleo at the honesty in the other's voice. "Or anyone's, really. There's no one to blame but me and that's what makes it so hard. No matter how many times Lailah told me 'You don't become the strongest shepherd in a day' I kept pushing too far. And when I met my limit I hated myself for my weakness. I still do. I keep thinking back to the cardinal and to Dezel and my head keeps repeating the question of what else I could have done. It keeps haunting me even in my sleep - I'm sure you noticed, I remember waking up to your concerned glance more often than not."

Mikleo nodded, knowing Sorey would feel the motion. He knew Sorey kept having nightmares, knew he didn't even sleep some nights. But he never dared to ask what they were about.

"Wanting to change the past is selfish and no one should decide who lives and who dies", Sorey said. "Knowing that.. I feel the malevolence inside myself grow stronger every time I think about it."

Just as he said that Mikleo felt the pang in his chest grow stronger again, felt the malevolence around them grow and knew it came from Sorey. Then he heard Sorey take a shaking breath, then another and the waves coming from him dimmed down a little.

"I felt bad for rejecting you as my Sublord but I felt even worse for dragging you along with me, through all this danger."

Mikleo was sure Sorey said that and yet it sounded so far away. The whole Sublord drama - they never really addressed it again after Sorey fainted in the Galahad ruins that day. To hear him talk about it now..

"...the reason I rejected you in the first place", he remembered to focus back on Sorey's voice. "There were so many instances you could have died because of my inexperience! That time in Marlind, with my vision.. I tried to hide it so no one would worry and then it almost killed you because no one knew what was going on. Or on that battlefield, when I insisted on going against Heldalf and I lost my resonance. I could've lost y-"

"But you didn't", Mikleo interrupted him before his malevolence could act up again. It was still his job to reassure Sorey after all. "You can't get rid of me that easily." He took a deep breath before he continued. "And I came along because I wanted to. I may not have known what I was getting into fully but I was aware of the dangers the path of the shepherd would bare."

"It wasn't supposed to end like this though."

"Is it really over, Sorey?"

"I no longer have the power to purify Hellions. How can I defeat the Lord of Calamity if I don't even dare call myself the Shepherd?"

"Is that really what we set out to do?", Mikleo asked, urging Sorey to think back to that first time they left Elysia together. "We wanted to see the world, remember?"

He could hear Sorey take in a sharp breath, then felt the other's hand cup his own, squeezing tightly. "With all the things going on", Sorey breathed, "I almost forgot about our dream."

"Even if saving the world isn't within the range of our possibilities, the things we did manage sure didn't go unnoticed. And we can still follow our dream, even now. Let's focus on us for now, instead of the world, how does that sound? We can walk a new path, in our own pace for now. Small steps towards a bigger goal."

"Our own pace..", Sorey repeated with newfound wonder.

He let go of Mikleo's hands and Mikleo felt his heart sink to his stomach as Sorey stood up. Did he say something wrong?

But Sorey walked in front of him, smiling through the dried tears that shimmered in the moonlight and extended a hand towards Mikleo. "Just us, right?", he asked as Mikleo took his hand.

"Yes, just us."

"I think I like that."

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stormjay0 · 4 years ago

Text

Xisuma and Xelqua

I was thinking about how Grian used to be an admin (Wynncraft) and we’ve ended up here so... ficlet time!

As nights went on Hermitcraft, this was one of the quieter ones. Many of the hermits had gone to bed (Bdubs having been asleep for hours), with only a few still awake tinkering at some redstone project or growing vines for a build. The lights in the shopping district had gone dark, one by one, as shops closed up for the night amidst the smell of newly laid grass. The diamonds hanging from the trees caught the light of a star here and there, but most of the movement in the cowmercial district had long since died down.

A flickering window blinked in the distance. Any passerby who found it worth taking another look would see that the flicker came from a cozy flame dancing in the glass confines of a lantern, resting on a desk. The window in question was a small opening looking out into the thick jungle, just large enough for someone to rest on the sill and watch the parrots. It was also over 100 blocks off the ground.

The flame began to die out, flickering slowly and sadly downwards, only to spring up again as if given a shot of espresso. Or a shot of coal, in this case, because the admin who refueled it wouldn’t be caught dead with coffee. A strong black tea was another thing altogether.

Xisuma sighed and leaned back in his chair. Rubbing his eyes, he checked the time for the first time in a few hours. One in the morning wasn’t bad, he reasoned, and turned back to his work. Earlier today, he had relocated some administrative panels to this room in his jungle base, the least concrete-y of them. He silently thanked his past self; working on admin duties was at least 50% less fun on the concrete floor. His helmet lay switched off on the cozier, carpeted floor of the preferred room.

The panels themselves were resting between a desk and the wall behind it, propped up by their sturdy bedrock stands. Xisuma didn’t often think about that rare material that his panels were made of; many high-level admins required hardware (literally hard-ware) of that caliber, and though bedrock was almost impossible to obtain, it was well worth it for the administrative abilities of the panels.

Tonight was not a night for appreciating the panels, however; in fact, X was beginning to question if his work tonight was worth it in the first place. He was trying a particularly frustrating string of commands, as he was only halfway sure of how to accomplish the work he was trying to do.

Xisuma briefly stretched his neck and back, cracked his knuckles, and tried another combination. The usual [ERROR: Action not recognized] message appeared in urgent red over his screens, and he let out a short breath and considered hitting the panels in a last-ditch effort.

He didn’t have the chance to hit the panels, though, because another object hit a different panel very nearby- a Grian-shaped figure slammed into the window beside him at top speed.

X, not even surprised, slid open the glass and looked down. There was a thin ledge about five blocks below, and as Xisuma had expected, a heap of elytra wings and red sweater was sprawled atop it. He chuckled, shaking his head incredulously, and grabbed a water bucket so Grian could swim up the stream.

“Do I even want to ask what you’re doing up?”

Xisuma passed Grian a cup of chamomile tea, which the red-sweatered man immediately dumped 6 sugar packets into, cancelling out the calming chamomile effect.

“Well, you see, I was simply minding my own business over at Grumbot when I saw a light on over here- knew it was you immediately, definitely didn’t think there was a giant firefly hiding in the jungle.” Grian took a gulp of his tea. “Anyways, you’re up, and I’m up, so I may as well talk to you, Eck-sai-zooma.”

X rolled his eyes playfully at the mispronunciation. “Alright, but why were you at the Grumbot? That thing’s broken, ain’t it?”

“He was lonely!” Grian protested. “I wanted to visit my robot son.”

Xisuma raised an eyebrow.

“Aaaand I might’ve left a shulker box full of wool there.” Grian shrugged. “But it was a whole box!”

He looked around the room that he had crash-landed into and noticed the administrative panels. “You’re not working, are you, X? At this hour?”

Xisuma turned to look at the panels, still glowing red with error text. He sighed, and moved to switch them off. “I was working on a personal project, but you’re here, and I really need to take a break anyway.”

His finger was on the off switch when Grian spoke up. “Hey, I know how to fix this. It’s a perception chain, right? You just gotta-” He typed in a string of commands deftly with his head tilted sideways. “There! Got it!”

Xisuma stared at the message that had just popped up on the screen, glowing green. [Action approved. Enter commands to continue chain.] He turned back to look at Grian, who was now trying to hang his elytra upside-down from the ceiling.

“How’d you do that?”

Without turning around, Grian replied, “Oh, it was pretty easy! Just entered some combos that you hadn’t tried. The keywords on these change wayyy too often.”

Xisuma stared at Grian, looked back at the panels, and looked back at Grian. After a moment, he collected his thoughts enough to ask again.

“No, how did you know what to do? I’ve been an admin for years and even I couldn’t figure it out.” X was surprised that his question came out so calmly, when his brain was currently a mess of ‘HOW DID HE DO THAT’ and ‘WHAT THE HECK’.

“Oh!” Grian turned around, smiling sheepishly. “I don’t think I ever told you- I’m sure it was on my list, right after fixing that chest monster- I used to be an admin!”

He dropped to the floor, legs crossed, and took another swig of tea. “I used to moderate a server called Wynncraft. We had all kinds of people, but not like Hermitcraft- they came and went, played and left. Some came back, some didn’t, but everyone had a great time!”

He wrinkled his nose. “Or, they better have at least, I spent a long time on those maps.”

“Anyways, we had a ton of quests, and loot, and all that stuff! It was a pretty cool place. You learn a lot about being an admin when you have to mod ghosts.” Grian grinned. “Hah! Those were pretty terrifying.”

Xisuma was even more dumbstruck, but didn’t show it. Ghosts? No wonder Grian had known how to fix his problem- he was somehow experienced in some of the most complicated areas of administrating?

Grian leaned over to look at a different panel as Xisuma’s mouth moved silently, trying to think of something to say. The smaller man lightly tapped a thread of commands and looked up at X.

“What’re you trying to do with these? This looks like a ban bypass. Did you accidentally ban someone?” His eyes grew wide. “If you did we need to fix it right now! Which hermit was it?”

Xisuma collected himself and sat down by Grian. “No, it’s- it wasn’t unintentional.” He stared at the wall. “I banned him on purpose.”

Grian was halfway to asking X who it was when he saw the look on his face. Xisuma looked stoic and almost sad, gazing off into the distance. Grian turned back to the panels, and read the commands on them thoroughly. The former admin recognized most of the threads, but some of them, covered in error messages, weren’t commands he knew that worked. After a minute, he realized what Xisuma was trying to do. The actions entered seemed to be working towards an uncoded goal- the objective being to see someone in another dimension. Specifically, the void under the end islands. X wanted to see someone who had been banned and sent into the void.

Grian may not have known why, but he did know how to help. He began typing in another string of commands, the sound of which brought X back to reality. He leaned over Grian’s shoulder as Grian continued to type, talking as he went.

“The problem you had needed a bit of a workaround. I think the issue was in the way you went about it. See, to see the person, you can’t just open a window into where they are, you need to bring them here. Or at least a part of them, or- here, I’ll just show you.” He stopped typing and turned to Xisuma as the screen flashed the message [Enter administrative ID to give permissions.] “You’ve gotta enter me into your system so it lets me do this. Username should be Xelqua.”

X, distracted, looked at Grian after a minute. “Xelqua?”

“Old username. It’s what they called me when I got my administrative license.”

“Ah.” X reached for the panels. /permit user [Xelqua] }access_all

Grian finished up the last of the commands and held his finger over the enter key. “Ready to see whoever this is?”

Xisuma took a deep breath and didn’t respond.

Grian took that as a yes, and clicked the final button, looking anticipatorily at the spot where he had entered the coordinates for arrival.

Nothing happened for a moment. Then, the lantern dimmed of its own accord, and a fuzzy shape that looked a lot like Xisuma began to materialise in the center of the room. As the image became clearer, the person it showed did so too. Their face was just as shocked as Grian’s.

Xisuma’s face, however, was misty. He looked quietly at the projection now standing in his base.

“Hi, Ex.”

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