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jacksoneblackburn · 1 month ago

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Because I'm bored, here's chapter 3 just because I can :)

Chapter 3

Leo gives me life advice

I know, not the best thing to say after getting re-claimed by Hades. (is it claiming or did Hades just destroy my parentage? I'm not sure. This hasn't really happened to anyone... I think.)

Leo walked up to me, placing an arm around my shoulder. 'I think you might be a kid of Hades.'

I stared at him blankly. 'What the Hade- well, my... whatever he is- is that supposed to mean?'

'I mean you got claimed. Dipstick.'

'I know what you mean Leo, but how did I get claimed if Apollo is, technically, biologically my father?'

'You're asking me like I know how humans work,' Leo said with a look that said I'm more of a machine knower, not a human knower. 'Sure. I build things with sentient consciousnesses all the time- with the help of Pipes of course- but I'm better at robo-genetics, not homeo-genetics.'

I facepalmed. A nice, loud slap to the front of my forehead. I drug my hand down my face, stretching my features before they snapped back to how the were before. 'It's not even real human genetics.'

Tyler huffed. He had a small look of jealousy on my face. Quick backstory. Tyler and me go back to the beginning of my time at camp. Me and Leo go back to a few minutes after my beginning of camp.

Now, when I saw Tyler, it wasn't love at first sight, if you can describe it that way (I am Cupioromantic, interested in dating, not really into the lovey dovey stuff. I still do it to make Tyler happy though). In fact, my first "crush," after my first boyfriend (Andy), was Leo.

Now, let me explain. After seeing a cool, good-looking guy that can talk to trees, and seeing a fire gremlin that has a sick ass (in the donkey sense) robo-dragon, covered in machine oil, burning trees- who wouldn't fall immediately?

I ended up finding out he had a girlfriend though and cried in a pillow for two days. Not a good day in the infirmary. Especially since I was laying in a medical cot near the sick children unit with the privacy curtain surrounding me with no walls nearby. A lot of people cried that day. But that's a story for another time.

Tyler snapped me out of my flashback. Literally. Because not only was I recounting my tail, I was also staring- like HARD staring- dead at Leo's face. I shook my head when I realized that he was snapping in my face. 'Helloooooo?... Earth to Jacks...' I finally registered him saying.

'Wuh-' I noticed Tyler looked angry, and was pouting. 'What did I do?'

Leo cleared his throat. 'You were staring at me. For like, three minutes without blinking.' Leo looked like he was on the verge of laughing. I felt myself blushing in embarrassment.

'I was flashbacking, I wasn't paying attention! I swear!' I put my hands up, in a swift moment, a flick was administered to the bridge of my nose. 'Ow!- Tyler!-'

'You're still staring!' Tyler said, moving my gaze away from Leo with a finger.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose from where he flicked. 'Tyler, I swear I was flashbacking, I swear on Styx.' Tyler relented.

'Fine. But this should be the last time I see you looking at another guy for extended periods of time, okay?' He huffily (not a word) placed a small kiss on my forehead before I can say anything else. I know he got jealous, a lot, but usually it was just his weird way to flirt with me. So I assumed that was what he was doing.

'So, now that... whatever just happened has passed, does anyone know what to do now?' Connor Stoll thankfully interrupted and asked. 'I mean, since Apollo became a technically biological human, and I got poked in the eye, the Oracle hasn't been oracle-izing quite right.' Usually, I would've been severely irritated by the misuse of word creation and have the undescribable need to punch someone in the gut and correct them, but it seems my correctional wordsmithing capabilities had left with my parentage.

'"Oracle-izing" isn't a word dipstick.' Nico said for me. Nico has been slowly learning the entire english dictionary because of him spending time with- ugh, Will.

'On the contrary, fellow not-entirely-straight man.' Leo said. 'Isn't Apollo looking for new words constantly?'

'He's a 16 year old-ish teenage boy with acne, I doubt he needs to look for new words right now.' I said. 'Wait- What did you say?-'

He ignored me and went on.

'Now now, let Uncle Valdez teach you youngins something about good old machine building.' He sat down in a chair while slapping boths his hands on his repsective knees. Kinda like the southern USA way of someone slapping the knees while standing up while saying, "Welp, it's getting late. Have yerself a good time pardner," (I have no clue what the modern South was like, I was from the Nothern Colony in Pennsylvania, and the south wasn't all grammas baking you apple pies and people fighting alligators with a beer in hand back before I was stuck in the Erebo pocket space).

'We're technically the same age.' I said bluntly. Leo shushed me in response.

'I don't care. I'm Uncle Leo Valdez, Tofu Taco Expert, and Bad Boy Supreme.' He said like it gave him authority (it didn't). 'Anyways, just because you can build a whole machine, including the parts, it's not always necessary when you have other materials to help you.' Leo said with surprising maturity. I half expected a sound machine to play a loud mooing sound from somewhere in his pockets. 'Everything has a place and it's better to build a place for it, then build something that already exists.'

'As a practicing engineer, poet, artist, temporary philosopher, the designated friend therapist and farmer, that made absolutely no sense.' I said with a frog blink.

Leo shrugged. 'Not everyone's a machine builder. You should probably take the "practicing engineer" part out of your title.'

Tyler stepped in. 'Leo, not the time.' He said impatiently. 'Get to the gist, dumbass.'

Leo put his hands up with his signature impish grin. 'Hey, don't go and try to rush a master perfeccionando su oficio*.' (*To translate, he said, "perfecting his craft." You're welcome.)

Tyler rolled his eyes. 'Olvídalo, idiota. Date prisa y termina lo que estás diciendo*.' (*To translate, again, in basic, he said, "Forget about it, idiot. Just hurry up and finish what you're saying.")

Leo rolled his eyes. 'Alright, alright. I'll cut to the gist: Just because the Oracle is broken, doesn't mean Rachel can't help.'

Surprisingly, that made sense. Even for Leo. Too much sense...

'Leo, who replaced you and gave us a proper person?' I asked with twinge of confusion. 'When did you start dishing out advice as good as your Tofu Tacos?'

'It's a talent of mine.' Leo said while shrugging it off as if it was something natural. He later told me that he was high off of oil fumes and couldn't remember a single thing about what was happening. Which makes sense when he then said, 'Anyone else hungry? I ate not too long ago, but I feel starved.' He rubbed his stomach. 'Didn't I have ice cream? Where did it go?...'

Leo then wandered off to the cabin's minifridge and raided for food.

Tyler then said, "So... I guess we're going to get Red?'

'Yeah,' I said while scratching the back of my neck. 'I guess so. Would she even help?'

Tyler shrugged. 'Maybe. But we'll never know unless we ask.' And so, he gathered Katie and Connor while Leo followed us, with snacks cradled in his arms like a baby, towards the Oracle Cave of Mini Delphi.

#jackson blackburn #pjo #self destruct toad #donut & toast #pjo rp #will solace #I'm so back bitches.

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silkendandelion · 1 year ago

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The Real Thing (Final Version)

A Fears to Fathom: Ironbark Lookout Fanfiction

ao3 link

Jack Nelson x Connor Hawkins Words: 2.2k Genre: Fluff, humor, horror elements Summary: A short one-shot to look at Jack and Connor's lives after the events of My Own, Distant Home, and is a short prologue/teaser to the in-progress sequel. Alternative title: Two fools in love have no idea what genre they're in.

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences for sexually suggestive content and mild language, and horror elements.

Tall, bright green trees lined the blacktop road, obscuring the path around the upcoming curves but not able to block out the sun on such a clear, summer day. The RV navigated the winding road with ease in Jack’s hands, most recently passing a green interstate sign, “You are now leaving Idaho”, and then the doubly large sign after it where a cowboy on his horse declared “Welcome to Wyoming: Forever West.”

“I think you were more excited to get your CD collection back than your truck,” said Jack as Connor flipped happily through his shoe-box of albums, whose edges were worn down to the cardboard where it had been slid out and back under the bench seat for years.

“The joy is split, for sure. I let the kids keep all the ones they wanted.”

Jack took his eyes off the road long enough to smile back at him, admiring the childish joy on his face as he hunched over the box, thumbing over track lists like he was a teenager again, in a music store for the first time.

Behind their RV, they towed along said truck, a 2000 Toyota Tacoma in what Connor affectionately called “Stacy’s favorite green”, bought brand new for cash the year he left the army. The truck he only drove for a few months before he became a fire lookout at Ironbark, and since then had been driven almost exclusively by Stacy: Connor’s older sister, another deceptively charming blonde with two children under 10 and no one to rely on besides her brother. Twin fuzzy dice in lucky red bounced beneath the rear-view mirror, bleached almost pink from summers at the lake and catching Jack’s eye in the side mirror.

“That was an incredible thing you did, Connor,” he said. “To buy Stacy a car in exchange for getting the truck back, when it was yours to begin with, and I don’t think she would have fought you on wanting to keep it with us.”

“Nah.” He shooed away Jack’s admiration, flipping over the CD in his hand. “I wasn’t gonna leave her with nothing. And it wasn’t like I got her a Mercedes, just a little something for her to get back and forth to the plant and the kids to school. I should be thanking you actually, you’re the one who looked over the engine and told the guy to change the oxygen sensors before we would paid for it.”

Jack just offered a shrug, though he smiled when Connor reached over to nudge his cheek gently with his knuckles.

“What kind of albums do you have, Jack? I think we’ve listened to nothing but the radio since we left Washington.”

“I like the radio,” he said matter-of-factually. “It’s got NPR, weather, every—THING! Connor, no.” He yelled (squeaked) in alarm when Connor began rummaging through the glove compartment, searching for evidence that he was fibbing. Curse the RV for being so wide, he risked swerving if he reached far enough to slam the lid closed. Meanwhile, smiling and completely unbothered, Connor continued to snoop.

“What do we have here? Oh, Jack. Jackie, baby, what are these?” He grinned in triumph to hold up a handful of CDs: his partner’s most private feelings in rhythm and prose. “Is this what you listened to before you picked me up? Tracy Chapman, Bobby Caldwell—Jackie? Blue-eyed soul?”

Jack’s red cheeks approached their smoking point, hands tight on the steering wheel. If Connor squinted, he might see steam rising from his collar beneath the tight line of his lips. “Don’t make fun of me, Connor, please.”

“I would never, Jack,” he said earnestly, all whiskey and warmth as he popped open one of the cases and began to decipher the RV’s stereo system. Static seemed to be the most common channel in their current neck of the woods, among a brief news transmission: ‘—ark state park in Washington, where the body count is up to 9—’

Stop. Go back.

“What?” He mumbled, so quietly Jack only hummed his vague acknowledgment as Connor flipped the channels back and forth, desperate to return to that station.

“It… it was this one, I’m sure of it,” he said, met with only snowy static from the stereo, and Jack took his eyes off the road for less than a moment.

“What was? I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

His blood chilled, too much like that night when he had descended from the tower to work on his generator in the middle of the night, believing they were safe and leaving Jack to sleep off his episode alone—until he heard the crickets go quiet in the bushes behind him.

Jack had been the one to save him then, and he would not be caught unaware again. Nor would he let himself be weak when Jack trusted him enough to need him.

“It’s not important, I can’t even find the station again.”

The awkward tilt of Jack’s half-smile was reassuring, even as his heart pounded too hard. He reached to press a button with a circular graphic, one Connor hadn’t assumed was supposed to be a CD, and the little orange display flashed ‘INSERT DISC’.

“… Ah.” It was Connor’s turn to blush, though Jack couldn’t hold himself back from a good-natured chuckle.

“Under 30 and still bested by technology.”

“Hey, I spent four years falling behind on the curve. Do you think the army gave us anything more advanced than ping pong paddles and sun dials? It did make me excellent at smoke signals, though.”

Jack’s laugh warmed him, the only thing he had found that could chase away the unease lately. “You’re an old soul even without living mostly analog all that time.”

“We couldn’t even afford all those letters, they just gave us ANAM,” Connor said with his most comically raised eyebrows, just to hear him laugh again.

As he slipped the disc in the slot, a sensual piano filled the cabin, renewing Jack’s embarrassment when a sultry saxophone joined the singer, the iconic croon of a soulful ballad. He burned, resisting the urge to show how much he was enjoy himself, and chanced a quick look at Connor.

To the tune of his fluttering heart, he only found him smiling, no longer looking through his shoe-box or reading the billboards. Smiling at him, all warm brown eyes as he whispered along with the words, as if to say that between them, everything was sacred because nothing could be wrong.

“I want the real thing, or nothing at all. I need someone that I can be sure will catch me if I should fall. Someone who’ll be there when I call, then I’ll know that it’s the real thing.”

“How… do you know all the words?” Jack said, more to himself than aloud.

“Why do you think?” He reached across the console to touch his hand where it loosened it’s grip on the wheel. “You never have to be embarrassed, Jack, not with me. We’re in this together.”

Easy for him to say, when he’s the one playing with the tempo of the poor man’s heart and the temperature in the room. They came to a stop under a light, and Jack busied his hands tapping his thumb on the wheel until he heard Connor’s seat-belt click, saw him rise to walk towards the back of the RV.

“Where are you going?”

“Use your imagination, Jack, I can’t exactly wander far. Although, I suggest you find a place to park soon, or you might miss the good part.”

“The wh—” He kept his foot on the brake, turning to look for him, just to bite down on his words as Connor slowly threaded his belt free, letting it fall to the rug with a quiet thump. Next came his shirt, pulled off by his hand on the back of his collar. Among the slow reveal of his toned back, the moles on his spine, the song urged Jack onward, a different one, something about “Come to me” and “Let me love you, honey”.

“The light’s green, Jack.” Connor smirked at him, and tossed his shirt in the vague direction of the driver’s seat.

Jack snapped his eyes back to the road, pressing the gas a little too hard and hearing Connor’s laugh drift up from where he grabbed the kitchen counter to steady himself. Quietly, lest he be seen through even more than he already was, he vowed that if he didn’t find a place to park in the next few miles, he would pull over to the shoulder and lock the door.

From the bedroom, a quiet moan piqued his hot ears, among the sound of what might have been his name if he could hear better over the stereo.

Shit. All right, 1 mile.

By the grace of somebody, otherworldly or other, the parking lot to a campsite appeared on his right, empty too, all thanks to the heat advisory that was said to last for the rest of the week. Jack was probably the only person in the county grateful for it, if only because it meant leaving the key in the ignition to keep the AC running left the music on too.

He found Connor already splayed across the bed, distracted from his intentions by the toy bear on the windowsill, the little “Get Well Soon” card in his arms beginning to fade from all the sunbathing he did while his dads drove from state to state. His fingertip nudged the bear’s plastic nose, and Jack began to press kisses along the slope of his shoulder, over the old ink of his tattoo.

“Are we staying here for the night? Adrian’s expecting you Monday morning,” he said.

“I won’t be late, I promise.” Connor turned to steal a kiss from his lips, several actually as he coaxed him to lie back against the pillows. “But whether we get there the day before or the morning of—depends on how much you’ll let me do to you.”

He bared his neck in a plain invitation despite his protests, allowing Connor to seek out his favorite places to kiss while Jack ran encouraging hands into his hair, shorter now after his interview, as well as smoothing his palms over the scratch of the day-old stubble on his chin. It had been a telephone interview, of which Jack reminded him he didn’t have to shave, but Connor insisted it was the right thing to do.

“You’ve always been the needier one, but this—,” Jack’s breath hitched when teeth grazed the skin behind his ear. “You’ve been really affectionate lately.”

“It might be awhile before we get the chance again.”

Light and teasing just a moment ago, the quiet melancholy of Connor’s voice against his neck made Jack’s eyes flutter back open. He cupped his face in his palms, warm in the cheeks where his body was still wound up despite himself, and beckoned him to look up.

“Hey.” From so close, he could see all the barely-there freckles across his nose and cheeks, too light to be anything more than a secret to the rest of the world who didn’t get to hold him the way Jack did. He placed another kiss on his lips. “You’re so good to me. Remember that.”

Connor’s brow scrunched, worried still as he let their foreheads touch. “I want to live up to the version of me that’s in your head.”

“He’s real, I’m holding him. I can feel his dick on my leg.”

The sudden sputter of Connor’s laugh puffed warm across both their faces, and Jack grinned back at him with what he hoped was all the adoration he felt in his chest, the swell of his heart when Connor smiled so bright.

“Okay, Jack… You say you’re not funny, but I like funny men.”

“Eh, logical fallacies, something something, cognitive bias.”

“You lost me.”

“No I didn’t, I can still feel—”

Connor shut him up with a deep kiss, coaxing his mouth open with his thumb so he could slide their tongues together until their lungs burned. With a wet sound, he finally relinquished his lips, admiring the daze in his hazel eyes and the berry-red of his mouth until his voice broke the spell.

“Who are you?” Jack quipped.

“Someone who loves you very much.”

The softness of his face disarmed any playfulness left in the air, replaced only by earnest devotion and the looming ache of starting over, bittersweet no matter how wonderful the company is.

They deserved a break.

Neither of them knew the winter was going to be a hard one. That before the end of the year, they would be in danger again. To take comfort now was a gift, to hold each other close before the leviathan resident of those Ironbark woods emerges from the trees and begins to seek out the only survivors who know it’s name.

They couldn’t know it was

was already awake

They cannot know my name.

#fears to fathom #ironbark lookout #fears to fathom ironbark lookout #fears to fathom fanfic #jack nelson #connor hawkins #jack nelson x connor hawkins #ftf jack nelson #ftf connor #horror fanfiction #romance fanfiction #mlm fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #silkenspeaks

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lesbianspeedy · 2 years ago

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Connor has called Ollie solely "dad" since Quiver why is he calling him "Ollie" now 😭😭😭

This is mean but I laughed out loud when Connor said Tim was the first person he talked about when he was figuring out being ace years ago. Lol. Lmao even. Tumblr really gaslit that poor writer into thinking Connor and Tim had an actual friendship with all their clamoring about him being with the wrong Bat huh. "Where were you?" GEE I didn't know you had to give daily updates to that one kid you teamed up a few times and had some friendly banter with. I love queer solidarity and the whole thing about us finding each other before we even know we're queer but. NO Connor would not have talks about his sexuality with Tim. Cmooooon you're telling me the first person he'd talk to about being ace wouldn't be Kyle "you can tell me if you're gay, Connor" Rayner?

At least that "this is just another thing me and Ollie don't have in common" anxiety is something already established. Like, that's basically the same thing he says to Roy when Roy takes him to that strip club even if it's an issue by Winick (do you ever stop to think about how unintentionally well laid out Connor being ace is and lose your mind a little bit?)

I'm just. Really sad about how Ollie and Connor's relationship is being presented to this new generation of readers. It's like we regressed to the time Ollie was dead, ya know? And I don't like Connor solely for his relationship with his dad, I want him to be a character on his own. But I can't help but being saddened by how he is losing his relationship with everyone that matters. For better or for worse, at least the new GA series is gonna have him interacting with his family (but what about Kyle, Eddie, Jansen and Moonday, ya know?)

The thing is that the story is good and I like its message. It just... Could be with any other character

im tempted to post this without an "answer" because its really well laid out and deserves to be a post on it's own. but i just rlly like ur points and want to interact with them so.

i think there were a few times between quiver and now where he interchangebly used dad and ollie but i get what you're saying, referring to him like hes estranged still was odd.

i totally agree, the idea of queer solidarity is important and should be shown, but i think this was a weird choice to go with. i think the most intimate (from my memory, i havent reread connor's run in a while) question connor ever asked tim was whether batman was his dad (at that time the answer was still no, as jack hadn't been killed yet). and that was only asked because connor was still his charmingly-awful-at-secret-identities-self. the part of their limited friendship that was interesting was the dynamic of new-sidekick-legacy meets new-main-legacy (for lack of a better descriptor), both struggling to uphold what they thought was expected of them. they never got to really advance from that stage of knowing each other to being at a place where they are friends out of costume, let alone discuss their SEXUALITIES.

i agree that the not being in common thing was a nice nod to past character complexities, though it felt slightly like it was the writer genuinely believing that to be true, and not just a rehash of connor's complicated feelings.

i know, its a weird stage we're at now, the resistence to fully accepting the connor that came from the end of his green arrow run, not just the beginning of it. by the end he had come to peace with being green arrow, and not being his father but that being okay. and that's not to say this is all the current writers fault (though williamson has done absolutely no favours with his writing), as winick and krul absolutely demolished any character connor had for their angst and whatever. (remember when connor aggressively yelled at mia for complaining about being stalked by zatanna without being told? or when after being turned into plastic and losing his memories he then decided he hated buddhism and oliver?). (not to mention the seperation from eddie jansen moonday kyle and. despite all of this complaining. tim cass and steph. winick set this precident and i will never forgive him)

i agree, it had good framework, and it couldve been a much more cohesive story if they. had just not used this friendship.

#connor hawke #green arrow #dc comics

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robinasnyder · 1 year ago

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Okay, but, hear me out: Jack already *knew* about Bruce and Clark. How did they meet exactly? Half of Bruce’s family has died and been resurrected at this point. When Damian was killed, Bruce went off the rails trying to find a way to bring him back. He stumbled upon the Fentons, and went to visit them as Batman. Maddie's out with Jazz and Danny' on a school trip. Jack's at home alone when Bruce shows up, wanting answers. He's too obsessive, too manic, too desperate. Jack’s like "oh, Robin's like his adopted son", bc Batman clearly loves the boy and os grieving. So Jack asks "he's your son, right?"

And it sort of spills out from there. Bruce has a breakdown. Jack comforts him, telling him how it felt when he found out his son had died, and that he and his wife had been treating their dead son like an enemy. And now things were stable, and his son is half alive, but Danny doesn't know they know.

Jack can't help too much, but he gives Bruce all of his research and some suggestions and asks him to call if he needs anything. Then he calls 24 hours later to check on him.

Bruce gets Damian back. He and Jack keep talking. It isn't like Gotham doesn't already have a weird relationship with death to begin with. Solomon Grundy exists. There are other people Batman deals with at various stages of alive and dead. So Jack Fenton is a good resource, he tells himself. Really, it's just nice to be friends with another dad of a superhero. Jack's powerful and brilliant and fights ghosts too, but he isn't a hero, so in some ways he's easier to talk to. He's never a potential JL member. He isn't a colleague. He's just a friend.

He's also a friend whose hero son has been cloned, apparently. And they're learning to manage suddenly sort of having a new kid/new niece.

So one day, Clark comes to Bruce and he's just frustrated with himself. He and Connor don't have a father and son relationship. Clark practically made sure of that with his early panic. Martha and Jonathan Kent raised Connor. But Clark's trying to have a non-hero relationship with him. Jon and Kon get on great. To Jon, Kon's his cool uncle/brother. And Kon adores Jon and even calls him his little brother when he thinks Clark can't hear (he can, he does know). Clark can't be a parent, but he wants to be something as Clark and Connor Kent, not just this awkward mess.

For once, Bruce knows someone who can help. He waits until, once again, everyone's out of the house, then he takes Clark to meet Jack. He told Clark this was his friend who is excellent at keeping secrets (though you wouldn't think so, he really can be when it matters). So they show up as Clark and Bruce. Jack’s got the fudge ready, and hot coffee and the promise that they've got six hours to try and figure out how to help Clark with his problem.

Clark admits to who he is easier than Bruce, because Bruce trusts this man implicitly, and because Bruce is nervous about introducing them because he clearly wants Clark to approve of his friend. That's new for Bruce, which means Jack is important. So Clark's extremely blunt about the situation.

Jack does have a similar enough story. He's also trying to figure out how to integrate Dani into the family, but things are awkward. Still, Dani hugged him and cried when they showed her the addition they built so she could have her own room.

Clark and Jack both end up giving each other advice and then call Martha Kent, who Clark quickly goes to get her and then flies her over. She takes to Jack really well, and they end up exchanging recipes. Jack's the one to suggest letting Kon and Dani meet, but Martha's the one that approves of the idea. Kon's experiences with other clones tends to be not great. The four of them plan a meet up.

This turns out to be a hero meetup, Dani Phantom and Superboy, only knowing the other is a clone. They hit it off really well.

So, Jack and Clark stay in contact. They both support each other as they try to forge relationships with the clone children in their lives. But that also leads to them talking about their hero sons.

Eventually, the three talk enough that they decide to have a meet at Bruce's home. Bruce gets Alfred to help him clear out the kids. He waffles about having Duke stay too, and ends up asking him if he wants to stay, but Duke points out that this is to try and help Damian make friends. Duke will come to the next one. So with that, the preparation's all complete, the Kents fly over and Jack and Danny arrive from their roadyrip.

Things seem to be going okay. Damian and Jon are best friends, so it's clear Danny feels like a third wheel, but Jon wants to try and be friends, so Damian's willing to go along with it. And Danny (the oldest) wants to try because he knows how important this is to his dad.

Unfortunately, that's when the ghosts attack.

Damian happens to have his sword and a few batarangs on his person, but is otherwise unarmed and out of costume. Jon is in a similar state. Danny is able to transform and fight back, but he's a bit handicapped bc until they can find a way to get Damian and Jon ecto-weapons, they're basically just living targets. So after being kidnapped, Danny manages to grab them and run.

They end up deep in the Infinite realms, and they have to try to find their way back.

Meanwhile, Bruce, Clark and Jack just witnessed their children getting kidnapped.

Bruce quickly gets changed, as does Clark. Then Clark flies them to Amity Park and the portal and Speeder. They take off, hunting for their children.

Adventures include:

- Walker being on their ass from the word 'go', and Batman having to outsmart him using his own made up rules.

- Superman still being all super strength, but he needs the ecto-equivilant of brass knuckles before his hits can connect. Once he has those, his punches hit just as hard as a normal Superman punch.

- They end up in the Kryptonian part of the Infinite Realms. This takes multiple chapters because not only are Kryptons gods there, but also Clark's parents. They're both happy to see him alive and thriving, but also a bit shocked by his values.

- Also, also, Kryptonians were high key kind of racist, and a number of them, while greeting Clark, are rude about his "mixed species" son, and mock Kon for basically everything.

- This is how they all find out that Superman is a lot stronger than all of them.

- The one nice thing is them getting to meet the god Nightwing, and Clark telling him about Dick choosing his name because of the stories Clark told him. And then Nightwing wants to hear all about Dick, and basically gives his blessing to use the name, along with a gift to take back to Dick. Nightwing also likes Bruce very much, also being a symbol of justice, fighting darkness with darkness.

- Bruce actively deciding that even if his parents are there that he could waste his whole life trying to find them, so he can't go looking for them.

- Jack getting waaaay more info on ghosts than he ever thought possible.

- Ending up in Ghostwriters library and doing some research.

- Eventually finding Clockwork, who congratulates Bruce for surviving his time stream adventures, but otherwise being cryptic and unhelpful in helping them find the boys.

- Said boys eventually finding ghostly weapons, which react to Damian and basically soul bind to him bc of his liminality and his strong will.

- Jon and Danny trying to explain the mechanics of their own abilities to fly and really sucking at it because both don't really understand and get confused.

- The kids have to slog through a bog.

- Youngblood.

- Cujo appearing at come point and Damian going *completely* starry-eyed about him.

- Damian and Jon both adopting ghost pets.

- Jon's are kryptonian animals, btw.

- The boys ending up in the Kryptonian part of the Realms way after their fathers.

- the boys meeting Clark's bio parents and having like an hour where things are nice.

- The Kryptionian ghosts Clark beat the shit out of wanting revenge, kidnapping Jon and mocking him for being not full Kryptonian/beating him because they can.

- Jon develops a new power, which even Superman doesn't have and manages to free himself.

- Damian and Danny exacting terrible revenge on those assholes.

- All three of them getting badly swarmed after that.

- Nightwing appearing and rescuing the boys. He's the one who ferries them out of the Kryptonian part of the Infinite Realms. He also gives a gift to Damian when he realizes that Damian stood at Dick's side as his partner and that their relationship is special.

- Nightwing also honors Danny as the one who defeated Pariah Dark.

- He also gifts something to Jon, because he is just as Kryptonian as the rest of them.

- The boys finally, finally ending up in Dorothea's lands, only for her brother to be attempting a coup.

- Batman completely outclasses Walker, leading Walker to helping them get to the Dragon Lands where the boys are.

- Superman and Jon beating up dragons together and Jon showing off his new power.

- Damian being recognized as a young ghost warrior by one of Pandora's people (who got stuck there during the coup when they wete visiting a friend).

- Dorothea wrecking her brothers shit.

- Father-Son bonding by fighting together!

- Clark being so proud of Jon and extra affectionate because he's so angry at the Kryptonian ghosts, and even more pissed when he finds out they hurt his son. Bruce and Jack literally have to hold him back from running off to destroy some ghosts.

- Damian's new warrior buddy managing to diffuse the situation by offering Damian a chance to take one of Pandora's warrior tests.

- Damian getting to meet Pandora, and learning about his new, burgeoning abilities as a liminal (not full halfa, but his experiences in the Infinite Realms, plus the weapons that soul-bound to him, plus Nightwing's gift (a touch of Nightwing's own power) mean he's closer to a halfa than a regular liminal and needs training.

- Bruce also being invited to try the trials.

- Clark is also invited, but declines, as he wants to check on his son's injuries (Frostbite is called to come help), and wants to spend a little time with Jon.

- Jack and Danny get to have a heart to heart. Jack admits he's known for a while, but that he's been scared about how to talk to Danny. He's so proud of Danny and how good he is. And he's proud of the way he handled Dani's appearance, as he did way better at 14 than Clark or Jack did as adults. He's proud, and scared of Danny getting really hurt.

- Danny is relieved and happy to know his parents actually know and love him and support him. He and Jack hug it out.

- After Frostbite arrives and heals Jon, Danny introduces them and Jack finally allows himself to go full AuDHD and ask a million questions, which makes Frostbite just an excited and they are so excited to have a research buddy.

- Damian and Batman win their trials. Pandora gifts Batman a one time boon to call for aide. Damian is given two more weapons, which soul bind to him and come from Pandora's armory.

The dads and kids go back through the portal, arriving to Jazz, Maddie and Dani down in the workshop making a robot that was Dani's idea. Basically a whole accidental full identity reveal.

Everyone ends up piling into the RAV, which Superman flies to Gotham so everyone can have dinner at the manor. It's a lovely night.

About a week later, Jon, Damian, Danny and Dani manage to get ahold of Kon and Kara and have them show up in the same remote place. It took some serious work, but the managed to have a cool surprise for them.

Wulf opens a portal, out of which steps Nightwing.

Danny had to get multiple powerful ghosts to agree to help to make this happen, as gods of dead worlds aren't really allowed to leave the Infinite Realms.

Nightwing blesses both Kara and Kon as true Kryptonians, and gives them both a gift. They'd both heard about some of the adventures Jon and the boys went on. As Kara had the most memories of Krypton, she especially had been called upon to talk about her and Clark's homeworld after everything went down. It's literally awe-inspiring to see one of Kryption's gods.

Kon, meanwhile, is near tears because his existence has just been validated by a god of his people. A people which had always treated him with disrespect, who used his own name to mock him. And Nightwing blessed him and gave him a gift. Kon feels so accepted and happy that he literally can't keep his feet on the ground.

After this, it comes out that Kon and Dani have actually been working as a team, as their powers compliment each other pretty well, and he's gottan Dani to join Young Justice as a junior member.

Jon, Danny and Damian, meanwhile, have formed their own team. Jon now has someone he can basically go all out with, and Damian has two people he can practice his new abilities with without risking killing of maiming them.

Damian also starts getting harassed by ghosts, but that's where the Fenton Tech really comes in handy.

Bruce realizes that somehow he did manage to get Damian a new friend, but also got closer to Jack and now has another best friend besides Clark.

DPXDC Prompt: Supersons + 1

What if Jack became friends with Clark and Bruce. And Danny accidentally becomes apart of the Supersons.

Jack takes Danny with him on a trip to visit his friends- just for it to turn into a playdate. But it isn't long for the cat to come out the bag especially since Danny's rogues can sniff him out.

So now all three are trapped in the ghost zone and this is way more than Danny wanted to reveal with day one "friends" . (maybe its walker)

And their dads having to come find them. Jack leading the charge because he has no idea Clark and Bruce are superheroes LOL But he knows ghosts when he sees them >:U

Could also be a good moment to have good dad Jack- one that once he knows Danny's phantom is immediately wait.. that's my son… MY SON? IM COMING DANNO!

Imagine just very heartfelt. Jack learns to reconnect with his son- Danny has more connections and now protection. Jon is happy to have a flying friend. And Damian still appalled Danny's bad at his identity. "It works because most people wouldn't think I'm dead." "Except for other ghosts?" "I told you that's not something I can avoid >:T." And be even funnier if Clark and Bruce had to go along with Jack WITHOUT being super. Even Jack doesn't find out about them. Which Danny is fine with keeping secret. So they have to work off of limited unsettling tech and still pretend they're a good shot because of other reasons.. or hits. Imagine Jack is like sensitive to Bruce's parents death like OH WAIT- sorry Clark you take these. Brucie, I got the boo-merang and the anti-ghost staff somewhere. That's my wife's favorite. uwu Jack also the reason they couldn't slip away into hereos because he dragged them along shouting FLITHY SPOOK! GIVE ME BACK OUR SONS!... in the Fenton RV... so imagine they had... Quite a ride.

#dc #danny phantom #dcxdp #i legit went off the rails with this one #also I did not spell check #sorry

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soap-opera-daily · 10 months ago

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Adam and Chelsea's Turbulent Relationship on 'The Young and the Restless'

As July sweeps begin on The Young and the Restless, the drama intensifies, particularly for Adam Newman and Chelsea Lawson. Their complex relationship takes center stage, promising viewers an emotional rollercoaster. Let's delve into the latest developments and how they intertwine with the lives of other Genoa City residents.

Adam and Chelsea: A Complicated History

Adam Newman, played by Mark Grossman, and Chelsea Lawson, portrayed by Melissa Claire Egan, have a long and tumultuous history. Their relationship has been marked by love, betrayal, and numerous reconciliations. Despite their rocky past, they have always found their way back to each other, often driven by their shared concern for their son, Connor (Judah Mackey).

Recent Developments

In the latest Young And The Restless Spoilers, Adam and Chelsea traveled to Baltimore with their son, Connor, whose OCD has been a significant source of stress. The trip was meant to provide a change of scenery and possibly some relief for Connor. However, the pressure of dealing with their son's condition brought Adam and Chelsea closer, leading to an unexpected kiss in their hotel room.

As they console each other, the kiss raises questions about whether they will rekindle their romance or stop themselves before crossing the line. This moment is a crucial turning point, potentially reigniting their relationship and adding further complications to their lives.

The Impact on Other Characters

While Adam and Chelsea grapple with their emotions, other characters in Genoa City are facing their own challenges. Jack Abbott (Peter Bergman) is dealing with the fallout from helping Nikki Newman (Melody Thomas Scott) get clean, which has put him at odds with his wife, Diane (Susan Walters), and his old nemesis, Victor Newman (Eric Braeden). Victor's recent actions, including poaching Kyle to run Glissade with Audra and firing him from Jabot, have only added to the tension.

Nikki offers her support to Jack, promising to be there for him as he navigates these difficult times. This new alliance between Jack and Nikki is sure to stir the pot further, especially with Victor's manipulative schemes in play.

Chancellor-Winters Conflict

In another corner of Genoa City, the fight for control over Chancellor-Winters continues. Lily (Christel Khalil) and Billy (Jason Thompson) proposed splitting the companies, with Devon (Bryton James) and Nate (Sean Dominic) running Winters and Lily and Billy taking charge of Chancellor. Despite the supposed victory, Lily's unease suggests deeper issues at play, hinting at further intrigue and power struggles.

Conclusion

As The Young and the Restless gears up for a dramatic summer, the focus on Adam and Chelsea's evolving relationship promises to be a highlight. Their kiss in Baltimore could either mark a fresh start or lead to new complications, affecting not only their lives but also those around them. With other characters embroiled in their own battles, the stage is set for an exciting and unpredictable season in Genoa City.

Stay tuned to The Young And The Restless Spoilers for all the latest twists and turns, and keep an eye on how Adam and Chelsea navigate their complex emotions amid the ongoing drama.

#spoilers #soap opera daily #the young and the restless #young and the restless #Y&R #Y&R spoilers

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wiypt-writes · 3 years ago

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Rock ‘n’ Roll People, In A Disco World

Part 17: Disco Dancing With The Lights Down Low

Part 2: Well hello, Stud.

Summary: You and Paul take an ‘adults’ only trip to Mexico. Sun, sea…and all the other things beginning with S…

Warnings: Bad Language, NSFW (18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction. I do not own any characters contained within, bar the reader and any other OCS that may be mentioned. I do not give consent for my work to be reposted/translated to any other site. Reblogs are fine and are my jam, baby.

W/C: 5.9k

A/N: Okay, so… i know I said by end of the month but I realised that’s not that long off so…here it is. Remember, Part 3 will be the Paul Diskant entrance for mine and @spectre-posts Kinktober

Rock N Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 1

When feeling returned to your bodies, the pair of you collapsed into bed as the sounds of the ocean at night lulled you into a deep sleep. The next day was as promised, sun, sand, laziness. Around lunch the two of you returned to the villa and with snacks in hand, fell asleep together sharing the macramé hammock on your deck.

Before dinner, you face timed again to check in with the kids who gleefully told you all about their day at the pier with Grumpy and Nanny. Connor won Jack a new teddy, Jack unfortunately won another fish but Paul's parents just seemed so happy with them both and Woody was doing just fine being a good guard dog.

“So Batman has his Robin, huh?” Paul snorted as the pair of you both laughed at how Jim explained he’d been forced to go back to your house and deposit him in the tank in Jack’s room.

“I was hoping he’d miss,” Jim snorted, “but we also realised next time you wanna do this we can just come to stay at yours. Don’t know why we didn’t do that this time round. Would be the most logical thing to do…”

"Change in scenery wasn't going to kill them, Pop.”

“Hmmm more like you wanted them to trash our house so you didn’t have a mess to clean up.”

Dot laughed, "I wouldn't leave it like that."

Jim rolled his eyes as Paul laughed, “it was an adventure for them. Camp Grumpy, remember? You know they love coming to stay with you guys.”

"How's Jack behaving?” You asked.

“He’s been fine.” Dotty assured you. “They both have. We’ve had a few small little squabbles but nothing major. And they’re sharing a room. We heard Jack crying on the first night but just as Jim was heading across the hall to get him, he saw Jack take himself over the landing and crawl in with Ceej. And that was it.”

You smiled, the news having warmed your heart. Your eyes welled up as you glanced at Paul. He winked at you before he looked back at the screen. “They love each other deep down.” He smiled. “Well, we gotta go get dinner. Let us know once they’re handed over tomorrow and we’ll call Nick and Maria.”

"You got it," Big Jim nodded.

You missed the goodbye between Disco and his parents as you'd gone to slip into your dinner dress. It was a casual affair, so you slipped into a backless linen halter dress, black and long.

You heard Paul shuffle into the room and two large hands fell to your hips, bearded lips kissed your neck from behind.

"You look beautiful." He whispered in your ear.

"Thank you.”

“Gimme five and I’ll be ready.” He kissed your cheek and then moved to pull his outfit from the closet.

You headed down the stairs and waited for Paul there, looking out across your patio at the beach. Your mind flashed through your entire life together and it made you emotional. The love you felt for this man, a man who absolutely worshipped you and desired you daily was indescribable. Sometimes, you felt unworthy of such a love, of such a man. But most times, you kept in the forefront of your mind how lucky you were.

And a reminder of just how lucky, was permanently on display through that now well faded, but still visible, scar on the left side of his neck.

He'd made this trip all about you, the two of you. Not rekindling of romance, as your relationship had never lacked on that front, but it was certainly unearthing the connection the two of you had that had somewhat been set aside with work and parenting. Now, as you waited in the warm evening air, you decided that after dinner you were going to make the evening about him. You knew each and every trigger Paul had that would arouse him, make him putty in your hands and it all started from that mark, that reminder of so much in your lives.

He disturbed your thoughts as he walked out onto the balcony, dressed in a pair of khaki coloured chinos and a short-sleeved black button down

“Well hello Stud," you smirked.

“Mrs Diskant,” he winked, his hand outstretched, “let’s eat, babe.”

You held hands as you walked along the plank board walkway through the outskirts of the jungle and towards the main lobby. You dined along the sand that night, the beach lit by Tiki torches and thatched roof coverings over the tables. It was local fare, a combination of Caribbean and Mexican flavors. You shared wine over your meals and when you were through, you walked along the rolling tide back to your villa.

Paul opened the door and then stepped aside, letting you in first, his hand falling to the bare base of your back. When you heard the click of the lock, you turned on your heel and looked at your husband. Your eyes roamed his frame, his thick, muscular and broad shoulders filling out that button down. You stepped forward, closing the gap between the two of you. Your fingers touched his collar and dragged along the buttons of his shirt. You plucked the top two and whispered, "find a spot to sit", as you worked the rest of his shirt open.

A flick of his eyebrows and a smirk made sure you knew he’d understood as he backed up to the soft sofa along the edge of the room. You untied the halter of your dress while you stalked toward him, the garment falling to the floor as you stepped out of it. Your eyes were locked on his as you kneeled between his legs.

He said nothing, merely watched you as you slid your hands up and over his toned thighs. You worked his belt loose, popping the button open to his chinos and slid the zipper down along its teeth.

"Lemme take care of you, huh, Stud?" You said with a rasp.

Paul’s large hand curled softly around your face, “as long as I can repay the favour.”

Your hands worked at him, pulling his waistband away from his skin while the other dipped into his boxers and wrapped around his hardened cock. You pulled him free with a gentle twist and tug of your wrist. Your lips enclosed around the tip of his dick and you sucked. You glanced up, his eyes still locked on yours as he gave a soft murmur and a sigh of delight. Hollowing your cheeks, you swallowed his shaft as your free hand cupped his sac.

His right hand rest on the crown of your head, the other gripped at the cushion of the sofa.

You played with him as you sucked him down, rolling his balls in your palm. You bobbed your head and sucked with the hollow of your cheeks, your tongue laving against that vein on the underside of his dick. Your breasts bounced a little as you sucked him off, your knees on the floor of the villa.

“Jesus, baby…” his hips tilted gently, “fuck…so good.”

You hummed around him, careful to find the balance of not too little but not too much so you could claim your prize above; his scar. You knew, of course, just how far you could push him. How could you not after all those years together?

His fingers gripped your scalp through your hair, blunt nails running along your skin. He was close so you backed off and rose to your feet. He watched you, a little v between his eyes as he pouted at the loss of your warm mouth. But he didn’t protest, instead he merely waited.

As you began to take a knee to either side of his hips, your fingers pushed against the open collar of his shirt. You lowered yourself into his lap as he shifted to remove his button down. His hard cock nestled between your folds, moistening him with your arousal.

“Baby?” He questioned softly, his hands on your hips.

"Hmm," you leaned forward to kiss him, his face in your hands. He kissed you back, eagerly, thick swipes of his tongue against yours.

You rolled your hips, sliding your folds along his dick. You pulled back and kissed his jaw, along the cut line of bone toward his ear and down his neck. Your tongue licked at the dip above his collarbone before finding your mark. You kissed the skin tenderly at first, then ran your tongue along the raised shape of his scar.

“Shit…” his neck strained as his fingers dug into the flesh at your waist. His hips jolted upward a little, a groan slipping from his swollen lips.

"You feel that, huh, Stud?" You whispered against him.

He swallowed, a little nod of his head to show you he did. Your left hand cupped his chin and turned his head a little to his right, exposing his neck more. Your lips covered the scar and you sucked at the mark like you had just done to his tip.

You felt a rumble in his throat as his body trembled beneath you, his hips pushing up again as he rubbed against you. His tip hit your clit and you whimpered. Reaching between the two of you, you brought his dick upright so you could slide him right into your aching hole. All the while your assault on his skin with your lips never ceasing.

“Fuck, fuck…” he chanted as he rolled upwards into you, “sweetheart…”

"Yeah, baby," you hummed, "right there, Stud."

“I can’t…” he groaned, “can’t…I need…”

"Give it, baby," you titled back.

He looked up at you, and in a flash you found yourself on your back, the cool floor of the villa beneath you, as a surprised squeal escaped you.

“Jesus…” Paul gripped your hips as he pushed back into you, his hand sliding down your legs to wrap them round his waist.

Your back arched off the floor as he thrust into you. "You better fuck me hard," you managed.

His reply was simply a growl. "Fucking tease me like that, fuck Sugar," he grunted, “you’re such a fucking minx at times…”

Now you chanted profanities as he railed you. His eyes were blown black as he stared you down. He groaned as he pounded into you, his hands placed flat on the floor either side of your head. His hips snapped and snapped, and you could feel every inch of him inside you. Over and over he hit that sweet spot, and you were fast building towards cuming.

“Come on, Sugar…” he almost snarled through his teeth, his jaw twitching as a sheen of sweat covered his brow, “come on…come on…”

You knew he was struggling to hold back.

"I'm... So.... Oh shit," you cried out.

“Oh, god…fuck, fuck…” he practically roared as he came, the pair of you lost in the throes of your bliss.

He collapsed over you, barely missing a crush to your frame as he rolled to his side, taking you with him. The pair of you couldn’t talk, instead you laid there, drawing in ragged breaths.

When you could finally move, Paul pulled you to your feet and grabbed your clothes. You showered together before collapsing into bed.

*****

The morning of your spa day, you found yourself delightfully cuffed to the driftwood headboard as Paul had his breakfast between your legs. You were boneless when he finished, and your spa day only further added to your blissful relaxed state.

The day nearly spent in luxury pampering, the two of you returned to your villa for a nice, long, deep nap. And when you woke, you wanted to do nothing but lie in bed and listen to the beach and jungle surrounding you.

"Can we just have room service?" You asked Paul as he lazily drew circles up and down your spine, your face led against your forearms.

Propped up in his palm and elbow, Paul spoke, "I'm fine with that, but I was looking forward to the tasting...."

“Oh…I forgot!” You giggled.

"That relaxed, huh, Sugar?"

“Mmmhmmm.” You hummed.

"Good." Paul kissed your shoulder. "I'm gonna shower, want to join me?"

You grinned, “to save water, right?”

"Dur..." He sniggered.

“Okay…but you’re gonna have to help me up.”

He smirked, "with pleasure."

You were quickly in his arms as he carried you bridal style to the open air shower.

There was nothing more than a little bit of kissing and a lot of laughter, and soon after you were both heading towards the main part of the resort, ready for your evening activity before your dinner.

The mezcal tasting was a lovely private affair, just the two of you on an air conditioned little hut with thematic decor and a gentleman from Tulum, expertly scholared in Nakawé Mezcal. You both enjoyed it thoroughly, and left a little buzzed and slightly peckish but not fully hungry following the snacks and sides you’d had during the tasting to accompany the drink.

So, you had tacos, small in size and loaded with fish and shrimp in the street style manor as you sat in the sand and ate. You were nestled between Paul's legs, beer each on either side of his knees, stuck in the sand. The waves rolled along the shore as a dark sky was nearly settled overhead. The stars were out and you just sat there, together quietly. Then you thought of something.

"This reminds me of our early dates. We used to get the corn dogs or hot dogs from the pier and a couple of drinks and sit on the sand."

“Yeah…” Paul chuckled, “both of us living with our parents, working all the shifts we could, raking in the rookie overtime.”

You smirked but he couldn't see, however, you turned your chin toward him to speak, "I adored our early days, but I love this life now."

“I wouldn’t change a second of any of it, babe.”

"Me either."

You nestled back against his chest and the two of you stayed that way for quite a while. His hand gently ran up and down your arm as he drank his beer with the other. You had no idea how much time had passed, but eventually you were forced to concede you needed to move for high tide was close as the water reached your toes.

Paul rose to his feet, and offered you his hand to pull you to your feet.

“Can you believe we only have two more days," you sighed as the pair of you began to walk towards your villa.

“I know…but we’ve had fun. And we’ll do it again.” He squeezed your hand. “Maybe not here but somewhere.”

"Maybe the next one is in winter..."

“Yeah, you got somewhere in mind?”

"Whistler?"

“Yeah?”

"Could be fun." You shrugged, "in another five or so years." You then chuckled. "This one cost us a fortune, gotta save again."

“We don’t do it often, I just wanted something special for us. But, we’ll get somewhere alone again before five years is up. In the meantime, I was thinking…maybe we could take the boys to Disney. Florida, I mean.”

"Great idea, Jack's just big enough."

He nods, “I know we have Disneyland a little more local but…well, I like the idea of the different parks. We can go for a fortnight, get a villa…bet Mom and Pops would come.”

"Probably mine too."

You reached the villa and Paul led you inside.

“Which is good…”he grinned, “as it’s on tap babysitting so we can sneak away.”

You smirked. "I love you, Disco."

“I love you too.”

"You wanna take me to bed or take a break?"

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

"Legitimate one..."

“I always wanna take you to bed…but I also know I might have worn you out.”

You sighed. "A little," you lowered your chin shyly.

Paul’s finger gently tipped your face to look at him. “Then we can sit out with a beer, and then curl up and fall asleep.”

"Okay," you said softly. "I'll go change."

When you came back in your sleep shorts and cami, Paul was on the balcony. He smiled, passing you to change quickly himself. Soon after he was back, a pair of shorts and a tee nestled on his frame. It was an easy night, the pair of you sat out until the early hours talking and laughing before you both headed to bed. There, you curled up next to him, letting out a sigh of satisfaction as you closed your eyes

*****

The two of you were bathed in morning sunlight from the open wall, the glass having been slid open by Paul before bed. Today saw your last adventure trip, a day in the Gran Cenote. A continental breakfast awaited you and Paul, delivered once again to your room while you readied for the day's trip.

You slipped into a rather cheeky one piece while Paul wore a different coloured pair of the same trunks he'd had all trip. A single backpack with sunscreen and essentials was all you needed and you'd quickly charged Paul with carrying it. You slipped your old LAPD SWAT cap over your head and pushed your aviators up your nose, following your handsome husband out of the villa and to the awaiting Jeep.

Through the jungle they drove you to the spot where the opening of the Gran Cenote sat and after some rules, and a hand off of your snorkel gear, the pair of you were free to explore the caves.

It was unbelievable. You’d snorkelled before, seen some pretty cool marine life up close but this was simply stunning. The waters were cool and clear, the rocks and nooks and little overhangs you found were adorned with so much greenery and flowers. And you couldn’t breathe for laughing at one point when a turtle got very up close and personal with Paul, biting his toe as he lay on his back, floating in the water.

You couldn't remember a time when the two of you had this much fun or felt this close in a while. And while you missed your boys, a part of you wasn't ready to go home.

Again, you retired with a quiet night in your villa, room service for dinner, the night sky and the double hammock calling you both as the meal settled with you. You had mezcal cocktails and relaxed, his hands on your body. But as things began to get a little heated in the hammock, the pair of you ended up flipping the entire thing, dumping the two of you to the deck.

Your laughs were uncontrollable and your sides hurt, your giggles interrupted by your phone ringing and two very happy boys' faces filled your screen.

Jack and CJ were calling from your parents’ house, just before bed.

“Hi my babies!” You grinned

"Hi, Mommy!" Jack beamed as Conner waved excitedly.

“Are you having fun?”

"Yeah, we got to go to the zoo today," Connor beamed.

"I saws a awigater," Jack bounced. "And feeds the..the futter-byes!"

“Oh wow!” Paul joined in. “Was it a big alligator?”

"Dis big!" Jack's arms flew out straight from his sides, almost smacking CJ in the face.

“Hey!” CJ warned him, “careful!”

“Tell me about the butterflies,” you cut in quickly.

"Dey tickewld." Jack giggled.

"Papa said they're good luck," CJ added. "They were orange ones and blue ones and all kinds, Mommy."

“Wow, that’s amazing!” You smiled. “We’ll go back one day all together.”

"Cans we sees the ewifants?" Jack wondered.

“We can see anything that’s there, buddy.” Paul nodded

"Otay!"

“What else have you been up to? Ceej, you ready for soccer tomorrow?”

"I am.”

“Is Grumpy going to watch you this week?”

“Yeah. Nanny said she'll film it and send it to you." He said with a slouch to his shoulders.

“I’ll be there next week, bud.” Paul said gently.

“I know."

"I goes," Jack said in an odd caring change of character. Normally, you stayed home with him, as he was a nightmare to keep an eye on when you were trying to watch, usually complaining loudly he was bored. Occasionally, you left him with grandparents or Barnes, meaning you could see the odd game too but it was very much Paul that was there week in, week out on the sidelines with the other parents.

CJ blinked and looked at him. “You can’t. You don’t like it. You’re staying here with Papa.”

“No, I wanna goes.”

“But last time-“

“Ceej,” Paul cut in, and Ceej sighed. Paul then turned his attention to Jack. “You promise to behave if you go this time?”

“Yeah. I cheers. Go Ceej!" Jack looked up at his big brother.

Despite himself, CJ smiled a little, then he gave a roll of his eyes and grinned. “Okay, you can come.”

Your heart, which had just shattered at the look in your eldest’s face, now was mending at the warmth your little Tazmainian devil had shown and the fact CJ was allowing him to go. You felt Paul squeeze the back of your neck gently.

"Be good for Nanny and Papa, okay, and call us right after your game, Connor." You said cheerfully.

“Okay!” He beamed, “Nanny says she wants to say hi…hang on…”

“Bye Mommy, bye Daddy!” Jack yelled as he hurried off.

Soon, your mom's face hit the screen, "Hi kids."

"Hi, Mom," you said at the same time Paul said, "hi, Maria."

"How's everything?"

“Absolutely fine, they’ve been so good. Your dad had them grilling with him before and they’re off to bed with a movie.”

"Thank so much, Mom," you smiled warmly. "I was worried. But you guys and Dot have said they've been so good."

“They always are for us,” your mum chuckled, “and as I keep telling you. If they behave for everyone else, and keep the naughtiness for Mom and Dad, then you’ve done your job.”

With a snort you shook your head.

“Anyway, I’ll let you go. Have a good evening.”

"Night, Mom," you nodded.

"Lots of pictures and video tomorrow, huh?" Paul hoped.

"It'll be borderline spam." Maria winked.

He chuckled, “did I ever tell you that you’re my favourite mother in law?”

"I better be your only mother in law, Paul Diskant."

"Night, Mom!" You called and snatched the phone from Paul, ending the call.

Paul closed up the villa on the first floor as you headed up for bed. You washed your face and brushed your teeth before he'd even come back up. You were just tucking into the sheet as he appeared.

"I'm exhausted," you chuckled.

“Yeah…” he yawned and nodded. “I’m kinda whacked too.”

"C'mon, Daddy, let's nuggle," you patted his side of the bed.

“Two minutes…” he leaned over and gave you a quick kiss.

You nodded and hunkered down into the soft bed. Your eyes were heavy as Paul climbed in. The second he was settled, you rolled into his side, your head in his chest. His hand gently ran up and down your back, fingers soft. It was the last thing you could remember feeling before the world went dark and dreams filled your eyes.

*****

The day was already mid-morning when the two of you woke up. Drained from such a great day before, you were thankful for the lie in. The sun was glowing across the water, the sand almost pure in color, the ocean a glittering match to Paul's eyes. This was paradise and you softly sighed knowing it was your last day. But you smiled knowing that by tomorrow night, you'd be holding your babies in your arms and hearing all about their adventures with both sets of Grandparents.

You checked the time and it was still early back home, by two hours, and Connor's day hadn't started yet. His game wasn't until 10 in LA.

“We’ll call in an hour or so.” Paul spoke softly. “Wish him good luck.”

You looked over at your husband with a smirk, "you always know."

He chuckled, “I was thinking the same thing as you, Sugar.”

You led your head back down on his chest contently. "Room service for breakfast?" You began running your fingertip along the bottom edge of his medallion. Back and forth along the metal, the semi-circular motion soothing.

“Sounds good,” his hand gently stroked between your shoulder blades as he kissed your head. “You want coffee?”

“Oh, yes please.” You sighed happily.

Paul kissed the top of your head just before you turned away so he could leave the bed. Minutes later he returned to you, fresh faced from cool water, a minty scent to his kiss and a mug of delicious Mexican coffee in his hands for you both.

You ordered your room service and sat on the veranda with your mugs, the ocean lapping the shore with high tide. You glanced at Paul, his sunglasses wrapped over his eyes, his bare and newly tattooed chest flexing unknowingly. Your heat pooled at the thought of what he could do to you with the flip of a switch.

“You want a photo?” He smirked a little.

“Just admiring the view.” You popped a shoulder.

He snorted as he lifted his mug to his lips.

The morning carried on. Breakfast on the veranda, topless sun bathing for you on the lounge chairs next to your dipping pool. This time it was Disco who cheekily quipped about taking a photo.

For the time that you sunbathed, your mom spammed your phones with images from CJ's game. Your heart ached a little knowing you hadn’t been able to make him his usual special pre-soccer breakfast, and undoubtedly Paul's had to have been missing being there to watch and cheer on. But your boy looked tough out there, enjoying the game. Jack seemed to be the faithful cheerleader sat atop his Papa's lap in the still images while the grainy video showed an assisted goal.

And then you let out a little gasp as the latest video came through.

“Paul…he got the ‘Man of the Match’ award.”

You watched as his face expressed pride and a hint of sadness. "I can't wait to talk to him!"

“He’s so happy…look!” You passed your phone over for him to watch CJ accept his little trophy from the coach.

Almost simultaneously, Paul’s phone pinged with a message from his Dad with a great photo of CJ and Jack. CJ’s kit was a little dirty with grass stains and various other marks from the game, his face was sweaty but his grin was enormous as was Jack’s as they stood next to one another, CJ’s trophy held in his hands.

"Oh, Sugar, look at this one," Paul turned his phone toward your line of sight.

You gasped at the happy photo in surprise. "My babies."

“Maybe this means we can both start going to watch now, and you’ll get to see him play more than you do.” Paul shrugged, a hopeful tone to his voice.

"I'd love that. It's frustrating when Jack can't sit there and just watch or play with his toys when he's disinterested. I miss half the match."

“I know.” Paul wrinkled his nose, before he snorted, “remember the last time when you gave up and decided you’d just stay home?”

“Don’t remind me.” You groaned at the memory. Jack had been playing with his truck, or so you had thought. You’d been watching the game when the referee had blown to halt. At the same time, loud laughter had rung out and you’d turned to see Jack was on the pitch running towards CJ with a water bottle, trying to squirt him with it.

Paul laughed, “Ceej was so mad, remember him declaring Jack was officially banned forever?”

"Oh I honestly can't forget it." Your head fell into your hands. "I love those stinkers. We've been so lucky really. From how hard it was to have CJ to how fast Jack came out, I'd do it all again."

“Yeah?” Paul grinned, “I mean, we could always…you know…” he wriggled his eyebrows.

You popped your shoulders, "yeah, I think I want one more. But it's not a have to thing either. Just if it happens it happens and if it doesn't in the next year, we're done. What do you think? How do you feel about it?"

“I’d have a football team full with you.” He grinned, “a team of disco balls.”

You smiled warmly, and when you opened your mouth to say something, your phone started chiming for a FaceTime from your mom's number.

“Oh, it’s mom…” you sat up and grabbed a towel, holding it round you to cover your bare chest. When you answered, immediately CJ’s excited face and voice blared out of your phone as Paul moved so he could see.

"Hey, Pal!" Paul grinned. "How was it?"

“We won, five nil! And I didn’t score any but I helped with three and I also stopped their side scoring as I kicked it off the line!”

"That's great, Ceej! So proud of you, bud! Nanny was sending us the videos so we can watch later!"

“And I won player of the match!”

"Oh my gosh, That's great, baby!" You chimed in. "I'm so proud of you, Connor!"

He beamed as Jack then pushed his way into the picture. “I hit the nasty boy.” He grinned, proudly.

"What?!" You and Paul shouted.

Hastily the phone was taken and it was your dad then who was looking at you, his face a mixture of amusement and sheepishness. You could hear Big Jim in the background with your mom, and you waited.

“Well…to be fair, the kid asked for it…” he began.

"Nice way to start the conversation, Dad."

“So, there was a bit of a commotion on the pitch, and this kid shoved CJ over then kicked him. We got a little distracted. Jim was shouting at the ref, I was trying to stop your mom running on the pitch to see if Connor was okay…and somewhere in the middle of it all, Jack barrelled straight on and ran over. Punched the kid straight in the gut.”

“Great right hook…” you heard Jim add.

"Oh my God," you cringed, mortified and now concerned there would be repercussions from the boy's family.

Paul, however, let out a snort. “Any trouble?”

“Well, said boy started crying like a right baby,” your dad chuckled, “Jim and the kids dad went on the pitch to sort it out. He then cried even more when he got a red card for pushing and kicking CJ. No hard feelings though, Jim took CJ over afterwards to shake his hand. We also took Jack to apologise.”

"Oh good." You sighed in relief.

“And he did.” Your dad was now actively fighting back his laughter. “Here, Jack Jack, tell mommy and daddy what you said.”

Jacks face filled the screen and he grinned. “I saids sowee.”

“And?” Your dad prompted, “what else did you say?”

“Whats Daddy says. Ack-shuns has con-see-quentzez.”

You bit back the laugh as Paul snorted next to you.

“They do…you’re right.” You licked your lips. “But you can’t just hit people, baby.”

“He hurts Ceej.” Jack frowned

"I know. This time you're not in trouble, but you can't always do that." You shook your head.

“Otay.”

“Buddy, let me speak to Ceej, huh?” Paul directed the conversation back to your eldest.

"Otay…”

Jack disappeared and Ceej’s face once more filled the screen.

“That douchebag hurt you when he kicked you?”

"Paul!" You scolded at his douchebag comment

“What?“ he gasped as CJ cackled.

“A little…” he grinned, “I got a bruise on my leg…look…” the phone panned down and CJ showed you the mark just above his knee, in the space between his socks and his shorts.

You shook your head and groaned. "Get some ice on that, baby."

“It’s okay, mommy. Nanna says she has some stuff to help the bruises. But…he did say some mean things before he pushed me. He was real mad coz I tackled him.”

You frowned, "What'd he say?"

“Well, he called me a rude name…and then said his dad would beat my dad up.”

“He sounds like a peach.” Paul scoffed.

“But I said my dad was a police officer and he could beat anyone up.”

Besides you, Paul grinned with pride. "Oh, Connor." You chuckled.

Connor shrugged. “But I didn’t swears at him like he did to me. Grumpy said he was just a rude little moron.”

"Grumpy's not wrong." Paul agreed.

“So, what are you doing tonight?” You hastily changed the subject before Paul could carry on.

“Papa says that grumpy and nanny is coming over to their house for food and drinks.” CJ beamed, “and we’re getting tacos!”

"Who doesn't love tacos!" You beamed.

“I nots want tacos!” Jack spoke as he pushed his way back into the frame. “I’ms getting fan-jee-tas!”

“Jack, you don't like those! You just want chicken and red peppers." You shook your head.

“No!” He frowned, “I wants dem!”

You started to try and explain but Paul hushed you by placing his hand on your shoulder. “Your mom knows.” He said gently, “leave him be, babe.”

“I gets dats and grab-a-moley.”

“You love guacamole,” you chuckled before you sighed, “we can’t wait to see you both tomorrow. We’ve missed you.”

CJ smiled, “we can have a movie night?”

“Absolutely.” Paul smiled.

"You guys enjoy your last day. We'll see you tomorrow!" You mom popped into frame.

“Thanks mom…” you took a deep breath. “Sorry there was trouble today.”

"There was nothing of the sort."

“Okay…” you bit your lip, “enjoy your evening, sounds like you guys have fun planned.”

“Don’t let my dad drink too much scotch. He can’t handle it like he used to.” Paul grinned.

“You cheeky little shit.” Came Jim’s reply off screen followed by Jack’s loud yell.

“Dass a no-no.”

“Yeah, what you gonna do about it?” Jim shot back, his tone playful.

“Yous needs da bad word jar!” Jack continued.

“You tell him, son!” Paul laughed.

Loud giggles and shrieks came from off the camera as no doubt Jack was now wrestling with his Grumpy and you chuckled.

“Love you guys, see you soon!”

The screen went dark as the line cut off and you chuffed as you shook your head, then rest it against Paul's bicep. “So maybe Jack doing karate isn’t quite such a good idea.” You scoffed as your husband roared with laughter.

Paul pressed his lips to the crown of your head with a deep chuckle, "I think it'll be good for him."

“He just hit some kid, like what, two, three years older than him?”

“He was sticking up for his big bro. I’m not gonna lie, Sugar, it makes me both proud and very happy to hear.”

"Alright, you're right," you groaned. "But if it becomes a habit, you're on the hook for it, got it?"

“I will take the full consequences of my actions.” He smirked

"Deal." You sat up on your knees from the lounger and then stood. "Let's get some drinks and head to the beach?"

“Sounds good.”

You grabbed your sarong and bikini top, fixing them both as Paul grabbed his tee. He slipped it over his thick and cut frame before following you out the villa.

****

Part 3 KINKTOBER DAY 5

#rock n roll people in a disco world #paul diskant fan fiction #paul diskant x you #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant #street kings fan fic

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balillee · 4 years ago

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characters berate c!tommy for being destructive, when he's one of the most peaceful people around

something i've noticed kind of recently, when looking retroactively throughout the story in a general sense, is that people in the dream smp destroy everything they touch. common knowledge, i'm aware, but it's something i wanted to talk about.

oftentimes when people destroy things, it is out of grief or anger. prominent examples that come to mind include jack burning down manifoldland after tommy dies, wilbur's, and later techno, phil and dream's destruction of l'manberg, niki exploding her bakery, dream's destruction of logstedshire and all of the times tubbo's homes were destroyed.

something to note is that tommy is only responsible for one of those major instances, being the first time tubbo's house was burnt down. and what did tommy do? he paid tubbo either half a stack of diamonds or half the diamonds he had (i can never remember which) to make up for it.

you might also recall tommy burning down george's house with ranboo - which, to counter this point, this was on accident. tommy never intended to destroy anything, but instead to steal. he also tore down the remains of ponk's lemon tree - this was per the request of sam nook, who tommy would do anything for, and ponk's lemon tree was in tatters either way.

(sidenote: i'd debate the morality of stealing if it wasn't commonplace on the smp. tommy does it no more and no less than the average server member, if i'm honest, and he has good reason to considering everything he has, whether or not it's stolen or worked for, get's destroyed or stolen from him.)

the most griefing tommy tends to do is the things he creates, namely his infamous (often) cobblestone towers that litter the server. they are ugly, yes, but they stand out and kind of act as landmarks for places of importance to him. prominent mentions include a blackstone tower next to his house, a cobble tower near l'manberg, a wooden tower he started building with dream, and later drista, in logstedshire another one near pogtopia and one next to techno's house (that was later torn down by phil).

a lot of characters on the smp have realisations that they need to move on from the point where they once were. jack burnt down manifoldland to get away from his hateful obsession with tommy, as it wasn't healthy for him, and he came to the realisation, whether or not he'd admit it to himself, that he missed having tommy as a friend. niki blew up her bakery because she wanted to distance herself from l'manberg (she was barely a part of new l'manberg anyway, but this isn't the time for me to rant about how much c!niki irritates me to my core). wilbur blew up l'manberg because he wanted to rid the world of what he percieved as the villainy and corruption that he birthed. techno and phil did it out of pure anger and hatred for institutional structures. dream did it because it, for the longest time, was a thorn in his plans, and because he found it fun to toy with tommy. they burn and break and blow up and ruin things just because they find catharsis in it, but never do they stop to think that they can leave peacefully and abandon things, knowing that someone, someday, may find joy in the thing that you left behind.

tommy broke this tradition.

in season two, tommy was inhabiting his home only for about the very first two weeks and the very last two weeks, as the largest middle chunk of the season was spent in exile, either in logstedshire or with techno. during this time, connor tried inhabiting his house, to very little success - connor was kicked out and later held hostage, but something to note is that tommy refrained from destroying his stolen house, which would have mirrored wilbur's 'if i can't have manberg, no-one can have manberg.' around the end of the season, post-doomsday, tommy promised his house to two separate individuals should he die on january 20th (i believe it was to connor and sapnap, but someone can correct me on this information if i'm wrong.)

tommy's house has had it rough. it's probably one of the few houses that has stayed in the exact same spot since the beginning, but my god has it been through it. it's been blown up, torn apart, dug into, burnt, destroyed, remodeled, refurbished and expanded so many times that what appears to be an unsuspecting hobbit hole is a labyrinth of pure history and despair - and the amount that tommy's been stolen from trumps most on the server.

what i'm saying is, is that it's impressive tommy has stayed there so long and has broken the tradition of destroying the things that cause you grief. in fact, he went the extra mile to say that if he died, he would leave it to someone else.

tommy finds no catharsis or joy in destroying something that someone else could learn to love, even if he hates it, even moreso in the present than ever before. he refused to destroy the blackstone tower outside his house for resources, and he didn't partake in any of techno's terrorism - and was outright shocked at the wither spawned the day before the festival.

tommy seems to be one of the only characters who recognises that there is no beauty in destruction - no catharsis, no peace and no fresh start. there is only an abrupt end and a feeling of hollowness, knowing that the thing you had created could have been left to someone who would have loved and cared for it ten times the amount you ever did. he might not enjoy the fact that people may try to use and abuse things he already owns and wants to keep as his, but if he lets it go, he won't destroy it. he'll have faith that it's next owner could do a better job with it than he ever could.

/rp

#let's face it #tommy would have never burnt the discs #he would only ever have peacefully let them go in the instance that someone else may have found a joy in them #c!tommy is the sappiest little dork on the server #dream smp #dsmp

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anawkwardshit · 3 years ago

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Defending C!Tommy

I would like to preface this by saying that much of this rant consists of pasted pieces from my previous Dream SMP posts, so be aware of that. I would also like to mention that I base many of my ideas off of not just lore but also introspection into the less detailed pieces of lore or the realities that come with stuff that happens in the lore even if not explicitly mentioned in canon (i.e. Tommy’s PTSD from being a child soldier and his other trauma).

Before we begin, keep in mind that Tommy had to suffer through multiple wars, deal with his brother who was suffering from a manic down spiral and another sibling/friend (depending on what you take as canon) who killed his best friend in front of him and then fought him to the death in a pit. He then proceeded to watch his father/father figure (whatever you take as canon, since Wilbur and Phil have submitted different versions, though Tommy has admitted to Phil being a father figure to him regardless) kill his brother after being witness to the entire nation he’d built, bled, and fought for be blown up, and mere seconds later had his other brother/friend (Techno) turn on him and attempt to kill him and the rest of his friends with massive beings of death and destruction. That’s gonna instill some PTSD.

Let’s address what we can accuse Tommy for, starting with the reason for his exile. Why excuse Tommy burning down George’s house and breaking rules? Easy: Tommy didn’t do anything more than what others have, and nobody else ever received punishment for it. People have repeatedly stolen from each other and griefed without repercussions, let alone one as harsh as exile and the isolation and abuse that came from it. Hell, Tommy’s house has been griefed and stolen from multiple times without anyone batting an eye or bothering to defend him (Connor even moved in and claimed it as his own later without permission, essentially kicking Tommy out with little to no remorse). Next to that, the burning of George’s house was a complete accident to begin with; the stealing was just supposed to be a prank, a harmless one. Don’t forget that Ranboo was involved, something he later admitted, and was never punished for it. This basically proves that Tommy’s exile wasn’t a punishment or justice, it was just Dream using it as an excuse to hurt him. In fact, Dream’s argument during the trial that Tommy has continued his destruction across the SMP and continues to be a danger and destroy the peace is false, since it was Dream and even Puffy who were the ones to blow up the other builds (meaning Dream is not doing this out of any professional/political lens, he’s just framing Tommy for his own self gain).

When it comes to Jack, I have multiple arguments I could make. Tommy’s mindset when it comes to pain is skewed (read the section in this comment about Fundy’s torture and Connor’s hostage situation to get a more in-depth detail about how it’s skewed). Hell, this happened during the exile, where Tommy considered Dream a good friend, and the man had been the one to take away his first two lives; for all it’s worth in Tommy’s mind, what’s a little killing between friends? In other scenarios, Tommy didn’t even intend to hurt or kill Jack. He got startled, rightly so as he was not only being abused and constantly nervous when Dream would show up but also suicidal and lost to a relatively consistent state of disassociation. I’m not saying he doesn’t owe the man an apology, but Tommy likely doesn’t even realize the wrongs of what he did; pain and death to him is so normalized that it likely doesn’t even register (like with Dream being his friend and killing him before, even Phil killing Wilbur (assisted suicide) and still claiming to love him). And even if we ignore all that, we’re all aware of the hallucinations Tommy experienced in exile, not to mention Dream’s gaslighting. He saw Tubbo everywhere, talked to an imaginary figure he called Clara and a girlfriend he built out of wood like they were real, and Dream even managed to gaslight him into thinking that MD (Mexican Dream) died of an overdose even after he killed him right in front of Tommy as the boy watched. For all Tommy was aware with his state of mind, Jack very well could have been another person/situation his mind created in an attempt to combat the isolation and loneliness.

One can also argue that Tommy messed up siding with Techno, the enemy of L’manberg. But what else was there for Tommy to do? He was running from his abuser, his friends had turned their backs on him for all he was aware—he was forced to fend for himself, even if that resorted to stealing, and he took the companionship and help where he could. Techno gave that to him.

If we were to address Tommy’s betrayal of Techno himself at the Green Festival, I would argue that it wasn’t truly betrayal at all. Techno literally offered to give Tommy to Dream for the favor while Tommy was right there next to him (how was Tommy supposed to trust him after that?), continued to insist their relationship was only a business transaction until the very end where he admitted that maybe he “might” consider Tommy something of a friend, only let Tommy stay with him and hide as long as Tommy was useful to him in his own goals (ergo, they used each other, and his insisting that Tommy only treated him like a weapon was a hypocritical argument to make when he didn’t treat Tommy much differently from a tool; he could at least respect the fact that they used each other equally), and while Techno insists he made his intentions clear from the start, that is untrue—Tommy’s the one who made his intentions clear, saying he didn’t want to blow up or hurt L’manberg, and Techno simply brushed that aside and insisted they’d talk about that later (Tommy only agreed to “minor terrorism” which we see he doesn’t back out on when he lets Techno spawn a Wither, take Connor hostage, etc). He even deleted the “Destroy L’manberg” item on the To-Do List before giving it to Tommy to look at, intentionally deceiving him of his intentions. He teamed up with Tommy’s abuser after even seeing the effect he’d had on Tommy after exile and then calling what Tommy did “betrayal” even though it could be more realistically considered a conflict of interests.

Let’s also talk about the “torture” of Fundy when he and Techno infiltrated L’manberg and the taking Connor hostage. Tommy was going along with what Techno wanted to do, for the most part. He was trying to prove he was useful and worthy of the refuge and companionship Techno offered. Remember, even after escaping Dream, Tommy was still struggling to recognize the abuse he’d endured (when he ran from the Final Control Room in the sewers, he was asking for Dream, his “friend”, to help him). Tommy still had yet to recognize that the hurt he’d suffered wasn’t justified. To him, torturing Fundy for information probably didn’t even register in his head as malicious. He wasn’t hurting Fundy just to hurt him, he was doing it for the good of his discs and L’manberg (as Tommy said). The pain he’d brought Fundy was a means to an end for him, and since a lot of the hurt Tommy has been through, not only by Dream, has been the same kind of pain, pain brought to further others’ goals and even teach “lessons”, it likely didn’t register in his head as wrong. I’m not saying Tommy doesn’t have to apologize, but it’s not as though the kid did it for the sole enjoyment of inflicting pain; his mindset was skewed due to his own experiences. In this instance, Connor’s situation is similar. They took him hostage to negotiate and further their own goals; I don’t think they even really hurt Connor. Hell, Tommy himself has been used by Wilbur, Techno, Dream, and probably others I can’t recall in the same manner, even in similarity that they didn’t inflict physical pain onto him either. Again, we’re back to Tommy not recognizing the mental stress and hurt he’s inflicting on people because he doesn’t register it; it’s normal to him, something he himself has been subjected to and then been told to suck it up.

In all honesty, I believe a lot of the stuff Tommy does that makes some people find it hard to sympathize with him is an attempt that Tommy makes to relax and have fun like he’s always done before everything went to crap (before the wars and betrayal and hate). Tommy’s character is naturally an angry kid (another reason why some dislike him), possibly a partial effect from growing up in the midst of fighting and war, or even an effect of his trauma and PTSD (mental health isn’t always pretty or as romanticized as people like to make it out to be). He’s all for a good spat and scuffle, but that’s familiar and lighthearted; he’s as tired of all the bloodshed and war just like anyone else is. He always seems to be raring for a fight, but like with his idea to fight Dream instead of taking punishment, he’s nowhere near willing to lose his home again, making fighting reasonable. When Sam Nook asked him to destroy the Egg, Tommy decided not to in fear of starting another war since it wasn’t really hurting anything at the time. Beyond that, Tommy’s character knows very little beyond fighting and violence; it’s the most familiar to him. Coping with peacetimes must be such a hard thing for him to grasp as a child soldier. Dealing with that and his recent grief over Wilbur through some harmless theft (no worse than what anybody else does) shouldn’t have gotten him so harshly punished, if punished at all.

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appleflavoredkitkats · 4 years ago

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Who Are the Four Horsemen of the Dream SMP Apocalypse?

Art by: Viktor Vasnetsov

[TW’s: torture, death, murder, manipulation, alcohol, substance abuse, discussions about the end of the world, religion, starvation, violence, implied gambling, blood, alcoholism]

Word Count: 3.5k

INTRODUCTION

Hopefully I finish this before I feel too sleep-deprived, but I’ve been thinking about the presence of horsemen in Quackity’s “My Enemies” stream. These mysterious, hooded figures are quite odd to say the least, and their involvement with Las Nevadas still remains unknown. There has been a debate on whether there were three horsemen or four, and in my opinion, I believe that there are four horsemen present.

Why four? In the first scene, three horsemen arrive at the Dream SMP on a dark and stormy night. They seem to have come from the south, entering Eret’s castle from the back. As they stop to pull their Netherite swords out, air raid sirens are heard from the distance.

Similarly, in the last scene, Quackity is seen placing a book in Wilbur’s memorial before leaving, riding his skeleton horse, Ossium. The scene cuts from first person POV to third, and we see a hooded figure, presumably Quackity because of how both came from the same direction. Additionally, air raid sirens are also heard from a distance.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT!]

I theorize that these two scenes take place at the same time. The prequel scenes only began after we see the sequence of Quackity torturing Dream, and it ends after the flashbacks of Wilbur. We can synthesize that both these scenes are set at the same time, and that these horsemen are going to meet at a certain point on the prime path.

What may suggest that these four horsemen are supposed to be parallels to the biblical four horsemen?

Firstly, seeing the bits they do, Quackity and Schlatt do know a lot of biblical references. Schlatt has compared Tubbo to Jesus once, and Quackity has said many prayers as jokes in the Dream SMP. It’s just… easy to take inspiration from biblical symbols and references, and also, the four horsemen are just very popular figures in history, so you know, why not?

Also, this may also sound RIDICULOUS, but the fact that this stream establishes that Tommy got resurrected three days after he got killed is actually very reminiscent of, well, you guessed it, Jesus Christ. 72 hours is oddly specific, and I don’t think the cc’s made it that way for no reason. Tommy’s parallels to Jesus—which is a VERY funny phrase—could imply that the Dream SMP might draw more parallels to Christianity, and the four horsemen could be another one of these references.

Also, Quackity mentioned how in Las Nevadas, he made four casinos for him and the rest of El Rapids. So, we know four is a number we can associate with Las Nevadas, and there’s a chance Quackity gave these casinos to three other people. Four casinos, four horsemen.

What is the purpose of the four horsemen in the Dream SMP? When the air raid sirens went off, we can think of these four horsemen as the bringer of chaos or danger into the Dream SMP, very reminiscent of the purpose of the original four horsemen in Christianity. We can also connect it to the end of the world, as these four only appear when the world begins to end. This can imply that these four, who are most likely allies of Quackity in Las Nevadas, are somewhat connected to how the Dream SMP will end.

Now, who is who? Admittedly, it is difficult to find a definitive answer on which member represents what horseman, so I’ll try my best considering all the possibilities for each. I’ll add my own ranks on how probable I think they are, but I have to specify that these are subjective- I am not a beacon of truth, y’all.

So let’s get started.

Firstly, I want to discuss who might NOT be a horseman to narrow it down a bit:

Any minors might not be involved. In Sam’s face reveal stream, aka the first stream mentioning Las Nevadas, Quackity and Sam agree they don’t want Tubbo and Tommy to participate in underage gambling. Don’t know if this applies to Ranboo and Fundy (since he might be canonically a child? Who knows), so they get more of a pass, but the clingy duo might not.

The Syndicate. I’d like to think that the Syndicate, as well as Dream, are Quackity’s main foils of the server. As they are the richest and also the most skilled in PVP, Quackity stands no chance against them even with his sharp tongue. As these people are foils against Quackity, and also probably hate his guts, Quackity might not hire them at Las Nevadas. I theorize he’d probably use Dream as a watchdog against the Syndicate, but that’s a theory for another time.

Additional point about Dream: he’s in prison.

Anyone from Kinoko Kingdom because it’s clear Quackity severed all ties with them.

The Eggpire is half-half. They can possibly join, but also can’t, Quackity can manipulate them into joining only for their inevitable demise, or Quackity wouldn’t wanna associate with them after the explosion incident. They’ll at least get a few passes in some categories, but again, not entirely sure.

CONQUEST

Also known as Plague, Pestilence, and in some occasions, both Jesus Christ and the Antichrist, Conquest is shown to be riding on a white horse, donning a victor’s crown and a bow. There are many interpretations of Conquest, especially with their ambiguous morality. Some people can perceive them as bad, representing the origin of many wars. Some people claim that they represent pestilence and plague as their arrows are slathered with the infections they want to spread. In some cases, they can also be interpreted as good, as their description is heavily reminiscent of Jesus Christ himself. Others would rebut that there is also a possibility that they might be a fake replica of Jesus created by Satan, thus making them the antichrist.

Sam (8/10)

Sam is my first choice when it comes to Conquest because, firstly, he fits the appearance. He is one of the only people in the Dream SMP who dons a crown, and they also possess a bow which they frequently use. I’d say that Sam as Conquest matches with his ambitions as a member of the Badlands, Pestilence or Plague match with his possible crimson infection, and Antichrist matches with his inability to keep Tommy, the possible Jesus figure on the SMP, alive or safe.

My only issue is: would Sam be one of the three who arrived at the Dream SMP in the beginning? Sam is very strict with his job as warden, so it is unlikely that he would be seen far from it.

Any of the Eggpire (7/10)

As Conquest is heavily depicted with pestilence or plague, any of the Eggpire may fit under this category. As their goal as the Eggpire is meant to conquer the Dream SMP, this also matches with the goal of Conquest. Additionally, one of the Egg’s weaknesses is Church Prime, something heavily resembling Christianity, so if the Egg is its opposite, we can view the Egg as somewhat of an antichrist.

I say Punz, Bad, Ponk, and Hannah have a higher chance of being Conquest, while Ant is a solid ‘maybe’. Punz could’ve been the one who blew up the Egg, Bad can be easily persuaded by Quackity, Ponk is one of the only capitalists of the server that may participate in Las Nevadas, and Hannah’s character heavily fits the theme of pestilence when it comes to nature. Additionally, I like to believe that Conquest was the horseman on the skeleton horse (that isn’t Quackity’s), especially since they were holding a dandelion in one shot, something that could be attributed to “pestilence” because a dandelion is a weed. This may imply that Hannah could be part, but because they haven’t interacted much beforehand, we wouldn’t be sure. More insight on Punz: he once mentioned he upholds his duties as mercenary more than he might love the Egg, so there’s a chance Quackity bribed him to join Las Nevadas.

The main con to this is that: why would the Eggpire willingly join Quackity, or why would the Egg allow them to join Quackity? I can see that Quackity might break their brainwashed states because he has a good way with words, but people like Bad, Ant, and Punz have stated that they’ve been fully controlled by the Egg. Also, Quackity makes it clear he wants to eradicate his enemies, so he might not want any members of the Eggpire to join Las Nevadas… unless there’s a traitor?

Schlatt, Mexican Dream, or Wilbur (6/10)

Heavily connected with winning if you take Manberg, Mexican L’Manberg, or L’Manberg into mind.

Wilbur also has a memorable crossbow, but I don’t know if that counts as a bow.

Any dead characters have a high chance of joining Las Nevadas because of its possible connections to death and the revival system of the SMP.

Other possibilities with short explanations and low but possible odds:

Eret: Has a crown, his betrayal can be seen as a “win”, has Tommy’s bow from the duel. Can be seen as an antichrist figure.

Jack: As he is against Tommy, he can be seen as an antichrist figure. Might be working with Las Nevadas because of his deal with Quackity.

Ranboo: He’s a minor, but he also has a crown and a bow so, maybe? He’s not much of a conqueror or winner, though.

Connor: Didn’t really conquer much, didn’t really win much, he’s just here because of Schlatt, honestly.

WAR

War is depicted to be holding a raised sword as they ride atop a red horse. After conquest, war is expected to follow, and War is tasked to break any type of peace on earth. He is tasked to kill, or make humans kill each other. The prominence of red symbolizes bloodshed or immense anger, something very present in war. Multiple depictions of War show him with his sword raised upwards, signifying the start of a battle.

Schlatt (9/10)

The man’s literally torn the Dream SMP apart (/lh). This man is always keen on fulfilling his goals, and if it means he’ll have to fulfill them in the most twisted of ways, he will do it. Him winning the Election brought immense conflict in the Dream SMP, and many people were torn apart on which side was the right or wrong side. One of Schlatt’s prominent colors besides blue would be red, as it is the color of his tie and the color of his ghost form’s horns. Red could represent the bloodshed of those who died during the Manberg-Pogtopia conflict, or red can signify the anger Schlatt had for his own cabinet.

Schlatt was also gifted a sword by Dream called “Shclatt”. The sword only holds heavy significance because of how Fundy treasured it like an heirloom.

Wilbur (8/10)

Another good possibility too as Ghostbur was recently seen to admire red a lot more than blue in one of Tommy’s streams. We can also view the creation of L’Manberg as a place that broke the peace in the Dream SMP as they didn’t really NEED to create L’Manberg and declare war, yet, he did. Red can also resemble his anger for what has been done to L’Manberg- everything is pretty self-explanatory, honestly.

My only qualm with Wilbur being one of the horsemen is how we can’t really… tell if he’s in the Dream SMP? He seems to be very clear on the fact that he does NOT want to return, so he might not even be there when the four horsemen became a thing.

Any of the Eggpire (7/10)

Honestly? Same reasoning as the first explanation for the Eggpire. This also applies for why they might not be one of the horsemen.

Do I even need to explain the red part, or do we just all understand that red is literally their brand.

The Eggpire practically breaks peace in the server and is keen on taking control of the entirety of the Dream SMP. The Egg is shown to be ruthless towards anyone, and will even let some of its followers kill people if needed.

I see Bad as someone who might qualify for this position more because he initiates a lot of the activity in the Eggpire. Same goes for Ant, Punz, and Ponk, but they don’t really take initiative most of the time.

Jack Manifold (4/10)

The only reason I kind of added him here was that he wanted to kill Tommy, but Jack isn’t entirely selfish or peace-breaking. I do think he might play a role in Las Nevadas, especially since if Quackity has access to the nukes, only Jack and Ranboo might be the only two who helped him gain access.

Jack is also… very angry at Tommy. Rightfully so, because he basically surrounded a good portion of his life trying to kill Tommy only for him to realize that that might not be his purpose in life. He blames Tommy for a lot of the loss in the server, so he has a lot of anger, but he has no one to vent it all out to.

Other possibilities with short explanations and low but possible odds:

Eret: Did the first betrayal, but that’s about it. He’s also participated in several wars against others who disagreed with him being the king.

Ranboo: Participated in wars, but is a peacemaker so, y’know.

Fundy: While he does possess Schlatt’s sword, he isn’t much of an initiator of wars as much as he is merely a follower. He has shown that he is quite angry at those who have used him, but the anger has dissipated lately into some sort of sadness/denial.

Connor: He’s mournful that Schlatt, a close friend, has died, but he isn’t really one to be angry. He tried living far away to make his own independent nation, but it didn’t impact much of the story. He also one possessed “Ghostbur’s Stabbing Knife”, which could represent the sword.

FAMINE

Famine is seen to be holding a scale (presumably for food) as they ride atop a horse. Famine is also denoted to be the only one speaking, saying “A quart of wheat for a denarius! And three quarts of barley for a denarius! But don’t ruin the oil and the wine!”. This statement basically means that we have to pay a full day’s worth of earnings for a bit of wheat and barley but oil and the wine, something not considered human necessities, can have the same prices. This shows an unfairness when it comes to acquiring basic human necessities. This is especially damaging to the poor as Famine’s statement can possibly make the poor poorer, while the rich remain the same. It is implied that the wider the gap between the poor and the rich, the closer we are to the end of the world.

Fundy (9/10)

This may be a long answer because I am biased towards Fundy, but Niki once stated that Manberg was in some sort of a famine because of the destruction of farms. Because of this, certain citizens have resorted into eating spider eyes from the EXP farm, but it was notable that she was practically calling out Fundy, someone who literally advertised spider eyes to any person he talked to in the Dream SMP.

Fundy is also hinted to be heavily connected to these hooded figures somehow. In his dream, he was chased by one until he slept in a black bed, the color of Famine.

Additionally, in his dream, he held baked potatoes (food) which could be related…? He’s also a libra so… scales…?

He is also a notorious prankster in the Dream SMP and will bargain for anything as long as he profits from it. He’s not the richest by any means, but he loves doing pranks that involve stealing belongings from other people.

Schlatt (8/10)

Similar reason to Fundy as he was the president of Manberg responsible for these famines. Additional note for this is that he also taxed Niki, one of their only food sources in Manberg.

Schlatt also likes to joke around about being rich, earning money, or being a businessman often, especially with the entire Schlatt coin joke. Connected to Famine’s trait of making the rich richer, possibly?

Famine’s statement can also apply here as it is implied that if humanity doesn’t possess the basic of necessities, they might at least have wine which won’t provide any solutions to humanity’s starvation at all, but it will distract you from your starvation by making you heavily drunk until you finally die. This is very reminiscent of how Schlatt died.

Sam (6/10)

Sam is one of the richest people on the server, matching Famine’s want to keep the rich rich. Only problem here is that Sam is at least very generous and provides a lot of people with resources when needed.

Sam could possibly be connected to Famine because of how he treats Dream in prison. In an attempt to torture Dream, he starves him, cutting his food supply.

Same problem remains with Sam not being able to join whatever the hell the four horsemen are because of his duties as warden.

Any of the Syndicate (1/10)

Only giving an exception here because the Syndicate is exceptionally rich and is more selfish about it than others. Low chances, but Ranboo… might? But it’s still a bit iffy for me. Niki might as well because of her connections to the Manbergian famine, but still on the fence with this one too.

DEATH

Death is often depicted riding a pale horse, but some variations have called the horse light green. Death does not don a weapon themselves, but they are always accompanied by Hades. Hades in Christianity is the place or state of the departed spirits, meaning Death has contact with those who have died. Sometimes, Death is depicted with a scythe similar to the Grim Reaper, but some say Death has no weapon at all as Death themself is the weapon. Death is not only meant to collect souls and end lives, but they can also represent the end of an era of humanity.

Quackity (10/10)

I would say Quackity can fit any other category, but I am so sure that Quackity is death because of how death and toying with death seems to be one of Quackity’s main themes in the Dream SMP. Quackity, once hesitant about killing others, has been shown to now impulsively want to kill others: first with Techno, then Ranboo, then Dream.

Quackity will also most likely acquire information about revival on the Dream SMP, so he is in close proximity with Hades, or in the Dream SMP, the Void. This also heavily ties in with the idea that he will make others gamble away their canon lives only for him to resurrect or return their canon lives if they ever successfully gamble it back.

Quackity is also known to be very powerless in terms of PVP and battle, but you know what he succeeds in? His own words. He is his own weapon that can get him whatever he wants as long as the person he’s up against is in a vulnerable position.

He is also confirmed to be one to have a skeleton horse, and some depictions of Death’s horse show that it is very corpse-like.

A bloody scythe can also be seen in Quackity’s first lore teaser, and that can be attributed to Death.

Other possibilities with short explanations and low but possible odds:

Schlatt: First owned the revival book but he literally does not know its contents. Fits the “they are their own weapon” trait.

Dream: The only exception I can give. But again, he is literally in prison…?

Wilbur & Mexican Dream: Only putting these two here because they have experienced death. These two fit the “they are their own weapon” category too.

Connor: Wants to revive Schlatt, but that’s it.

CONCLUSION

Honestly, my first conclusion for the four horsemen were Sam/Conquest, Schlatt/War, Fundy/Famine, and Quackity/Death, but I only see Quackity as Death to be something that is HIGHLY possible. For Conquest, I shift between Sam and one of the Eggpire, for War, I shift between Wilbur and Schlatt, and for Famine, I shift between Fundy and Schlatt. Again, no definitive answer, but I’d love to hear your own thoughts on this.

I am very tired, but also remember to reblog if you do enjoy this! Again, would love to hear your own insights, and would appreciate any type of discussion! :D

#dream smp #dream smp analysis #mcyt #quackity #fundy #wilbur soot #jschlatt #connoreatspants #badboyhalo #long post

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dogin8 · 4 years ago

Note

Hello dogin! Another question for you today! Who are your top 5 favorite dsmp characters?

AYO!!! This is a genuinely tough question because I love them all so damn much

I think the number one spot would have to go to c!Tommy or c!Tubbo because I know the most about them specifically and have been able to get invested in their arcs the most out of anyone!

2 I think I might pick Fundy, he's been around from the very very beginning, he's the son of the old president that died and a lot of his stuff is genuinely so tragic and I love it, ALSO OMG I WAS SO IN LOVE WITH THE CONCEPT OF HIM SAYING "If I can't make them laugh I'll make them cry" (Btw the delivery on this line was fucking amazing) BUT HE ACTUALLY LIKE... WENT AWAY FOR A YEAR AND HEALED, Fundy processing his emotions by distancing himself my beloved

3 I might start fucking around and saying Connoreatspants, he's only ever canonically droppes banger lines, mans has done nothing wrong and like, firstly he fucked about and canonised my HC that he's immortal which I'm so fukn happy abt, secondly he's kind of a blank slate when it comes to lore so I can write whatever I damn want about him and thirdly cc!Connor realises his viewers might not want to see dsmp lore so he never streams it, meaning out of the people who don't have POVs we have Dream, Schlatt and Connor, which is amazing if you compare how the other two turned out

4 I think I might actually say Niki or Jack Manifold (yes I'm intentionally saying multiple people so I get to talk about how much I like more than 5 of the characters hehehe), Niki's lore is honestly really good and pretty underrated imo, I love her whole underground city and how jn her loneliness the city that was meant to be so welcoming and full of life slowly became her prison (her canonically having night terrors and not accepting that ghostbur exists is such a cool touch) and also Jack Manifold because he's got some really cool fukn stuff going on, his whole mourning tommy stream? amazing, his reaction to Tommy coming back? amazing, the stream where he broke down all of his lore and character motivations was so cool and I'm really hyped to see more of it (Also like, still not over him beating phil in a 1v1 during tftsmp)

5 (I've decided I'm gonna do more than 5, I've already done more but I'm gonna do even more more) Honestly hot take but Schlatt, Loved how much of a scumbag he was, the guy did not hide the fact that he was evil, but also as you know my opinions about his death scene GODSS the character seemed to be a 1 dimensional dictatorial villain (Which was really good to be fair, his acting really was amazing) until right at the end when suddenly there was insane amounts of depth that had been there all along he'd just been hiding it really well

6 Quackity, Quackity the girlboss my beloved, his character is the exact opposite of connor, he's the most complicated fucker on the planet and he's so involved, like every arc has a hint of Quackity's influence and I love that for him, Joke character(I don't actually think he was, but he is perceived as one) turned significant my beloved

7 Ponk, AHHHH I LOVE PONK, what a legend, Mans has red contacts to trick the egg, he has a whole wealthy ancestor plotline that I need more crumbs for!!! also that moment when he was considering what the server needed and he looked over to Schlatt's grave?? PERFECTTR SO GOOD, his whole toxic and awful relationship with Sam is so amazingly written and I love it

8 Purpled Bedwars, he's cool as fuck, that is all

#IN CONCLUSION: I ACTUALY LOVE ALL OF tHEM SO I COULDN'T CHOOSE JUST 5 #ALL THE CHARACTERS ARE AMAZING AND THE WRITING AND ACTING IS SO BRILLIANT #dream smp #dsmp #dreamsmp #asks #malted jotson

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bambigoose · 5 years ago

Text

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

AN: So life is a little different right now and I hope everyone and their loved ones are doing okay. Personally its been a rough few months, working as a healthcare professional you know its always a possibility but we were never prepared for this. Stay safe everyone! I’m hoping to get back to writing on a consistent basis so send in some requests or player suggestions!

Mass General Hospital is a busy epicenter of healthcare in Boston on a normal day, add in a pandemic and it looks like North Station on a Monday morning. Precautions are taken, safety is maintained, and the deep routed never ending exhaustions settles within the entirety of the staff. Doctors, Nurses, EVS and Administrative workers are pushed to their limits.

In a buried office, down an abandoned hallway Stephanie groaned as she hung up the phone with another patient. Massaging her temples while cancelling the next pre admission testing appointment, she jumped as the door opened behind her. “Pretty sure massaging your temples counts as touching your face.”

“Pretty sure this office and myself are cleaner than they’ve ever been before. If I attempt to put any more sanitizer on my hands right now they’re going to scream at me.” she replies, turning toward Dr. Connor in the doorway.

Dr. Connor held out a dunkin coffee made to Stephanie’s preference for the poor girl, “Wish I could take credit for this but it was delivered to the door for you. I offered to walk it over since I was on the hunt for you. Eerie over here, don’t you think?”

Stephanie laughed at the cup, reading the order and knowing only one other person knows her ridiculous preferences. “I love him, truly.” she says to Dr. Connor as she inhales the aroma and takes a deep sip. The gentle sigh escaping her, despite best efforts to contain it causing Dr. Connor to chuckle while Stephanie gestured to the chair in the office. “With no visitors and all elective surgeries cancelled it's pretty dead over here. Should have seen it when I walked in at 6, felt like something out of a horror movie with all the lights off.”

“Does he even pay for coffee anymore? All those commercials…”

With a laugh Stephanie interrupts, “Despite popular belief hockey players are just like the rest of us, even David Pastranak pays for his coffee.” She flips off a quick text, You’re an angel. I love you!

Smiling at the return message, Figured it was coffee time! Love you too with the typical ridiculous amount of emojis she always gets from him.

Turning to Dr. Connor, she sighs “Now who's trying to convince us to put a surgery on the schedule now.” The hospital procedures require the agreement of the Surgical Coordinator and Chief Medical Officer in order for bookings to occur now. The two in the office were always friends, but now with the multiple hats they had to wear they were working in tandem.

“Dr. Barre, GI Bleed.” he replies back.

“Oh, that’s happening.” as Stephanie begins to type in the booking.

….

Four hours later, Stephanie stood outside the ER doors in full protective gear screening patients walking in to determine whether or not they need to head to the possible covid waiting area or if they were general patients that can go to a waiting room for other issues.

Some people were willing to work with them and happy to answer questions others gave them more grief then necessary. Every once in a while people will bless them with their life story. The clearing of a throat brought her attention to the door behind her and a chipotle bag Dr. Connor was waving in his hand. "Special delivery! You can eat it while you put a booking in for Dr. Barrett."

"The lady who dislodged her rectum?"

"How'd you know?" He asks with a smirk.

"She walked up to me and the very first thing she said was 'I tried to shit and my ass fell out."

Passing over the bag with a laugh, the duo proceeded to the office. "I like how this delivery comes with a message that food is necessary to survival. Wasn't aware that needed a reminder."

"Not all heroes wear capes Doc, some wear scrubs, and some wear sweatpants and order uber eats to make sure their girlfriends don't turn into angry bears. "

"Don't poke the bear." He replies with a smirk, holding the office door open.

Falling into her chair, Stephanie twirls with an eyebrow raised. "Honestly, how long have you been waiting to say that?"

Dr. Connor's laugh echoed down the empty hallway.

…..

Stephanie hated very few things in her life, how self centered her aunt was, spiders, outrageously rude people, Dr. Berry for reasons known only to the other surgical staff (and poor JD too after one night with too much wine), and Pasta's inability to put his goddamn shoes away. "You know I can't help save lives if I die tripping over your shoes! Seriously you can't even go anywhere, why do you wear so many shoes? And how do they always make it to the entryway?"

Shaking her head at the laughter coming from around the corners and rolling her eyes when David's head pops out like a Jack in the Box. "Go shower. You're grouchy until you shower. Although I feed you, so you shouldn't be this grouchy. Did you not eat it? Babe we've discussed this."

Cutting him off with a quiet giggle Stephanie smiled "I promise I ate and thank you again." Searching her face for a lie, David deflated seeing none. Her dimples blending in with the markings from the N95 she'd been wearing all day. Pasta still thought they were too tight despite the multiple times Stephanie explained to him it's not meant to be comfortable it's meant to keep her safe just like the pads he complained about, didn't mean he had to be happy about it though. If she made it home the mask has been off for at least thirty minutes and it still looked like it was removed seconds ago. "I'm going to hope in the shower so I can actually greet you properly and then my plan was to wipe the floor with you in Mario Cart. Any objections?"

Stephanie had to laugh again at the look of outrage on David's face, challenges of any time brought out the competitiveness in Pasta that you see during games. Their previous stove was a victim of the hard headed determined boy who obviously could cook better than her. She's still not sure how he managed to wreck all of the burners.

"Oh it's on now." Pasta pivoted in place heading back towards the living room, Stephanie's laughter following him down the hall.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #boston bruins imagine #Bruins Imagine #david pastrnak #David Pasternak imagine #boston bruins #nhl writing

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breakingsomething · 4 years ago

Text

Dawn Station - Part Two

Basic summary: Chase Brody is being kept safe, far away from other people. So he thinks.

Content warnings: gore, body horror, stabbing, emeto, death mentions

Chase Brody is not ok.

Of course he's not. How is he expected to be? Ten people have died, and now he's being told he's next. He's been under police protection for days and judging by the strained snippets of conversation that he's caught from officers, even the others that had been with him are gone. Ten people, they had said. As far as Chase is aware, there were only nine other youtubers who'd been roped into this shit. Who else has this monster that wants them dead killed along with them? Does he even want to know?

He's been in this room for… three days? Four? Fuck, he doesn't remember. All he knows now is white walls, too close around him, with a bed, a tv in the top corner that he doesn't have a remote for, a black bin, a rolling table that's covered in books and other assorted things that he managed to bring with him, and two doors, one of which that leads to a small bathroom and one of which that leads outside. The second door only opens when he's being brought food. No one's telling him anything. He's scared out his mind.

An officer, a pale skinned woman with orange braids and a sympathetic smile, comes in a couple hours after he wakes for the day with breakfast. Toast, cold, with butter slabs and little packets of jam and sugar for his tea. Also cold. "Sorry, we don't have any Weetabix," she tells him with furrowed eyebrows and a sad tilt of the mouth as she clicks the door behind him. "We do have Cheerios and porridge, if you want something more to eat."

It's all he can do not to laugh. "No, thank you," says Chase, in a hoarse voice that hasn't been used in hours. "I want my phone back."

The officer winces. Her eyes are dark, crimson lipstick slightly smudged. Her nametag says "Sarah" on it in violet ink. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, in a voice so soft and falsely sympathetic it makes Chase want to scream. "I don't know if we can do that. We -"

"The others are dead, aren't they?" Chase interrupts. He knows this already. But it's worth saying to see the woman flinch. "All of them. So much for your oh-so-safe "police custody" bullshit."

She attempts to gather herself as professionally as she can, which is seemingly rather difficult. "I'm sorry," she repeats, and something about her tone is more genuine than before. "They are. But I swear to you, Mr Brody, we are doing everything we can to -"

"If I am going to die today," Chase says, interrupting again. "I want to talk to my goddamn family one more fucking time. Please get me my phone."

She stiffens, but gives a jerky little nod. He doesn't smile at her as she leaves. Not much to smile about. But she comes back ten minutes later and wordlessly hands him his slim rose phone, no expression on her face. He manages to upturn the corner of his lips in response.

Once she's left again, he turns his phone on and practically sighs at the sight of his two kids on his lockscreen. Little Connor and Louise, tiny kiddos, dressed up in their pristine school uniforms and grinning cheesily. His heart swells, and he swallows hard as the lump in his throat seems to expand. He can't cry. He's been crying enough lately. To think that two weeks ago, he was ecstatic to be receiving an email from Jack Mcloughlin himself, giving him the opportunity to play his new game's demo early. Look at him now.

Stacy is at the top of his contacts list, but only because he has her favourited still. He's not sure why. It just feels right to have her there. Her picture is a small, grainy image of her face next to a three year old Connor's. He has her looks more than Louise. Louise looks like her dad. She's a daddy's girl. Chase misses her so much it aches, and closes his eyes as he clicks Stacy's number.

She answers almost immediately. "Chase?" she yells, causing him to wince and pull the phone away from his ears. He hears her inhale sharply. "Sorry. Christ, Chase - Where the fuck are you?"

He swallows again, digging his nails into the palm of his hand. His legs are already beginning to bounce. "Police didn't tell you anything, huh," he mutters. "I'm in custody. They're apparently "keeping me safe," but I'm well aware of the fact that the others - Persephone, Rodney, Stanley, and Khia - are. Well." He clears his throat. "Dead."

He says it so matter of factly that you wouldn't know how close he was to tears had you not seen his face.

Stacy shifts, and Chase hears a door slam faintly. Two small voices giggle far off. He bites down on his lip as Stacy talks again. "Yeah. That's… yeah. Chase, I'm sorry. Uh… Jack Mcloughlin's dead too."

Chase sits bolt upright, eyes suddenly wide. "What?"

Stacy sounds alarmed. "I - Yes, did they not tell you? He died maybe two days ago. Same way as all the others. I'm sorry, Chase."

He can't breathe for a moment. Then he's numb and his body settles into cold, unfeeling static.

"Ok," he says flatly. "Great."

"Chase -"

"How are the kids?" he asks before she can finish. He's tired. He's been doing nothing but sleeping and he's tired. "I can hear them in the background, ha. Sounds like a fun time."

He can hear her scratching the space behind her ear. She does that when she's anxious. Nervous habit. She had gotten a little tattoo of a bee there when they were seventeen. It was a dare from their friend Daniel, who had also gotten a tattoo of a crocodile on his left thigh. Chase has a black bear on his right shoulder from the same occasion. When he and Stacy had been together, they would sometimes kiss the other's tattoos and descend into giggles remembering that slightly drunken night back in Ireland. His chest feels tight thinking about it. His eyes glaze over, and he tries to focus on something across the room.

"They're… not great," Stacy murmurs after a moment, making him jump. He had almost forgotten she was there. "Some brat at school told them about - this whole situation. Told them their dad was going to die. Apparently, she made up a song about it."

Chase hisses softly, grateful for another emotion besides grief and missing to focus on. "Fuck's sake. Which kid was this?"

"You know that girl who was making fun of Louise's accent last year and put chips in her hair?"

"That kid again? I thought the school dealt with her."

A sigh. "Apparently not. They came home in tears. I've been keeping them home since then."

Chase shakes his head in disbelief. "Shit, Stace. Can I… can I talk to them?"

She sighs again. "I… I suppose. But - how have you been? I take it its not been great, but are you at least ok?"

What counts as ok? He doesn't know. "I'm not dead yet. So there's something. I guess I can't really say much more than that."

"Papa?" cries a voice on the end of the line, and a grin breaks Chase's face as he recognizes his son, Connor, yelling from somewhere quite close to Stacy. "Is that Papa? Mama, let us talk - Louise, Papa's on the phone!"

Chase can't help but laugh as his daughter also chimes in, two little voices clamoring for his attention. "Calm down, kiddos, there's plenty of me to go round," he grins, pushing his hair back from his face so he can concentrate. "How are you both? One at a time, Louise first."

"Favouritism," he hears Connor sulk, but the boy quiets.

"I'm ok," Louise beams. He can hear her smile, and sees it when he closes his eyes. "I can't go to school cause Megan Penicuik was being mean. We made cookies, though, me and Con-Con! All by ourselves, no help from Mama at all!"

"Now, that's simply not true," he hears Stacy laugh in the background. Chase laughs too, his heart suddenly aching. Something weighs heavy in his chest, but he tries to push it away, feeling sick.

A scuffle on the end of the line, and then it's Connor speaking. "I miss you, Papa!" he cries. "I wanna give you a - a chocolate chip cookie, I have one here." His voice becomes muffled, and Chase hears him chewing. "Yum yum yum. Can we push a cookie down the phone? Like, through the speakers, Mama!"

Chase listens to a small squabble break out, then hears Stacy sigh dramatically. "They're doing just fine," she says, sounding so tired, yet vaguely amused. "I… I hate to say it, but I should probably go. Connor's games club is in half an hour and I haven't gotten ready at all. My makeup's a state." Her voice softens. "Will you be… ok?"

Will he? He doesn't know.

"Stace," he murmurs. His chest feels tight. "I could die. Like, tonight. That's what people are saying. I'm the last one left."

A pause, then Stacy lets out a shaky sigh. "Christ, Chase…"

He gathers his strength. "Listen. Listen, Stace. If I die tonight - I just want you to know how much I love you, ok? Even if we… if we weren't meant to be together anymore. You're one of my best friends, you know? So… take care of the kids. Don't lose yourself. And by god, don't start drinking again."

She gives a choked laugh. "Chase. God, I - Don't fucking die tonight."

He doesn't know how to tell her he won't have a choice.

As soon as the call's ended, he opens up his roommate's contact. He can't stand the echoing silence that seems to go on forever in the minute or so before the ringing starts. He supposes that if tonight is his last night alive, he should say goodbye. Even if it hurts. Even if it makes him feel sick to say it.

He nearly sobs with relief when he hears the line click, and a familiar German accent speak loudly in his ear. "Chase?"

Chase sniffles, laughing softly. "Hey, Henny."

Henrik curses, and something slams. "Mother of God, Chase Brody, do you have any idea - Are you - Fuck, are you alright?"

Good question. "I don't know," he admits, bouncing his leg anxiously, and staring at his chipped black nails. "I mean, I'm… scheduled to die tonight. So probably not. Really, I've been weirdly calm about all this."

Henrik huffs, and Chase can almost picture him getting red in the face, yanking back his hair and staring out the window of their flat with narrowed, pale blue eyes. "They have not done anything about it? Surely it is not possible that a murderer who is killing in patterns cannot be apprehended? You would think that would be easy, especially if you are being held in high security. Motherfucking useless British police. Not that German ones were much better, but Christ -"

Chase cuts him off before he can rant for another five minutes. "How are the others? Are Jackie, Marv and Jem holding up ok?"

Henrik sighs, blowing out his cheeks. "Mhm. Marvin has gone a bit mad. Fucking idiot is spending way too much time online, reading up on your situation. He seems convinced that you are going to die as well. According to Jackie, he spent all of yesterday out of the house and came back saying he had been performing. But Jackie says he had not had any parties scheduled for that day, so he was talking shit."

Chase winces. His friend Marvin is a child's birthday party performer, a magician, and spends a lot of time perfecting fun tricks and illusions to add into his routine. Chase knows how much he enjoys his job. But he also knows that Marvin's habit of spending hours on internet forums and sites, learning things from other performers, can be bad for him. "Christ. I… Goddammit it. How's Jackie coping?"

He hears a microwave go off in the background. Henrik mutters something that Chase can't hear, then keeps talking. "Jackie has been at the gym every day since you were taken in. Overworking himself. He did come round yesterday and, uh, spoke about how scared he was for you. Cried a lot, poor man. I am not good with comforting people, but I tried. He does not know what to do with himself anymore."

This isn't surprising. Chase is well aware of Jackie's habit of overexercising and pushing himself too far when he was angry or upset. "And Jameson?"

Something clatters, like Henrik's rummaging in a cupboard. A fridge opens and slams shut, and then Henrik is back. "He has been round at our flat a lot. Did you know Euan ended things with him? I did not, until he told me the day before yesterday. He was dreadfully upset. The timing was… not great, to say the least. I do not think he is doing too well, but he refuses to accept any of the help I wish to give him. He kept asking about me instead. Really, sometimes I wish he was not such a good actor."

So does Chase. Jameson is never one to be open about his feelings, instead trying to help everyone else first. Chase loves him a lot, but he wishes the filmmaker would be less stubborn and insistent that he was always ok. His heart aches at the thought of Jameson suffering alone, especially now - he and his boyfriend Euan had been so close, as well. The thought that he might never be able to figure out what happened between them hurts. "Me too. God, Hen, me too. Give them all my love though, yeah? Tell Marvin to take some time to do self care, and tell Jackie to take breaks, and tell Jameson to talk to his therapist. And you… don't you overwork yourself either. I know what you're like. Only one cup of coffee a day, dude, remember. Don't make me come over there."

Henrik laughs softly, but there's a sadness to it. "You sound as though you are saying goodbye."

Something stabs into Chase's heart. He tries to catch his breath through the lump in his throat. "Henrik. I'm going to die tonight."

There's a long pause. He can hear Henrik adjusting, rubbing his face and knocking his glasses askew. Maybe he knows his roommate too well. Far too well, maybe well enough that he knows what he'll say next. "There has to be another way."

Chase shakes his head despite Henrik being unable to see him. "No. No, Hen, no. This - this is what's happening, and we can't just… fix it. I wish we could, cause I don't even understand why, and it's so scary, and… God, I wish we could. I have so much left I want to do, and…"

He trails off. Henrik doesn't speak. Chase imagines him pulling the phone away from his face, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his mouth so as not to cry. The image hurts. Chase hurts. He holds the phone tight, aching to be somewhere, anywhere else other than here.

"You know," he says, voice choked as he speaks. "It's ironic how much I wanted to die a few months ago, and now I'm here, and I'm suddenly so scared."

"You are not going to die," Henrik suddenly shouts. There is anger in his voice that Chase knows is not directed at him. "You are not. It will not just all end like that, Chase Brody. I will not let it."

Something hot pricks the backs of Chase's eyes. He swallows hard, his chest tightening, his legs bouncing harder. "Henrik. Henrik, I - I have to go. I have to go. I'm sorry. I love you, dude. You know that? I love you."

"Chase," Henrik practically sobs. "Shit, I love you too. But you are not going to die."

Chase ends the call and throws up in the black bin next to his bed.

Night comes quickly, Chase thinks.

He thinks, because an officer comes to take his phone soon after his call with Henrik ends. He's starting to regret hanging up, but it had to have been what was best. Of course it was what was best. No need to make this hurt so much more than it already does. This is something he has to keep telling himself. No need to make this hurt so much more than it already does.

The officers ask what he wants for dinner that night instead of giving him choices. He gets it. It's a last meal. He takes full advantage of it and orders pepperoni cheese stuffed crust pizza and garlic sticks, his favourite, with barbeque sauce and churros. It all tastes like cardboard. He eats it anyway, because he's bored and his mouth still tastes like vomit and if he's going to die, it's only fitting that he goes out with a Domino's in him.

Before he's even finished eating, an armed guard comes and takes him across the building. It's the first time he's left his room in days, and he's surprised to see how dark it is outside, how little people are around. The few people he does see stare at him, some open mouthed with awe, some with sad eyes like a parent trying to tell their child that their pet fish died. Chase stares at the floor. Stares at the gun tucked into the waistband of the officer in front of him. He's scared, and his heart is racing faster than it has in years, and he thinks he's dissociating a little because he doesn't feel real and his fingertips are numb. Adrenaline thrums through his body, warming him and erasing the painful cold. Fuck, but he's scared. He's so, so goddamn scared.

He's taken to an entirely different room, a slightly bigger one that looks nearly the same, but with wooden chairs sat all around the border. There's no TV in this room. "Sit here," one of the officers says, guiding him to the blue covered bed and gesturing for him to sit. He does so, feeling silly and light with panic. He thinks he's going to be sick again. His breaths aren't coming right and fuck, he might faint from the sudden, overwhelming wave of dizziness that's washing over him now.

One of the officers that has just come in walks over and sits next to him. He's in full uniform, a radio on his vest, a bat strapped to his belt. "Are you alright, Mr Brody?" he asks gently, looking at him with kind brown eyes, and Chase sobs with relief for some kind of comfort.

"H-h-having a p-panic attack," he stammers, shifting on the bed to try and feel something, clawing at his skin under his grey hoodie and desperately trying not to cry. "N-need my - my - my asth-ma in-inhaler, p-please, I can't br-breathe -"

He's brought his inhaler, and he clutches it gratefully, clinging to it like a child. The cold button grounds him. Maybe, maybe if he squeezes his eyes shut tight enough, he'll wake up in his bed at home and be able to get up and shower in a bathroom that's not small or lit too brightly and then he can go downstairs to the kitchen to find Henrik half asleep at the table, three cups of coffee in front of him, wearily participating in whatever Chase's dumb early morning joke is, and then he can eat toast that's not burnt or done too lightly and play his music while he writes or goes on a walk outside. Maybe. Maybe.

The armed guards keep watch over him for two full hours.

Chase Brody is terrified.

It's when it hits the two and a half hour mark that he begins to notice anything different. A faint ringing in his ears. He thinks it's his tinnitus and waves it off, simply swatting at the air around his head like that will help at all. One of the guards notices immediately. "Sir, are you alright?"

Chase nods. He's not, but he doesn't need them dithering over him. Unfortunately, the guard doesn't let up. "Seriously, it's important that you tell us what's happening. Anything at all. Anything that could help you."

Well, that's reassuring. "Strange noise," he murmurs, shaking his hair out his face. "I think it's just me, though, I'm alright -"

But the guard is standing, muttering something into the radio strapped to his chest, and is it Chase's imagination, or are more people entering the room? "What's happening?" he asks, but he gets no response, and he's starting to feel strangely dizzy and tired, like something heavy is dragging his eyelids down. "I don't… h-hey, I don't feel too… too well…"

Someone is speaking to him but the world is already blurring, his head light, floaty. "Stacy?" he slurs, trying to get a grip on the bedsheets beneath him. "Someone needs t'... m'kids, they…"

Chase Brody is no longer in the same room as he was before.

He doesn't know when that changed. He can't pinpoint the exact moment where the walls darkened and raised with pipes and doors and panels, he doesn't know when his bed disappeared beneath him and the floor became sticky and black, he doesn't know when the bright light of his room became a soft blue glow, lighting up the room from behind him. He doesn't know when the room had stretched both ways into a long hallway, lined with slivers of light through the windows. He doesn't know why, when he stands, his legs nearly crumple beneath him. And when he turns - god, when he turns, and he looks out the enormous windows behind him - he doesn't know why a calming sensation of numbness settles over him, burning his skin like pins and needles.

He is staring out at the vast abyss of space.

It's a blackness he's never seen before. It seems to go on forever, and maybe it does, and there is nothing but tiny pinpricks of silver light of gaseous stars piercing the inky nothingness. Nothing but that, and the ball of green and blue that Chase knows, somewhere in his mind. Earth. Earth, where he is and isn't, where his body should be, where he never left, and what kind of nightmare is this? What kind of sick nightmare, he thinks dizzily, his thoughts chugging slowly as though through a thick soup. Everything is spinning. There is no sound, the world is broken, and the space is fucking endless.

Move, says the tiny part of his brain that still has sense. Get out. Get out.

His footsteps echo on the metal panes of the floor, and he resists the tightening urge in his stomach to vomit.

He doesn't know why this place is familiar.

The hallway seems to go on forever. All the doors along the way to the left have small, glowing panels beside them that seem to demand some type of access keycard, which Chase very much does not have. Eventually he reaches one that he can open, and stumbles into a large room with a table in the centre, the walls covered in photos and clippings that he doesn't bother taking closer looks at. There is only one small window in here, over a sleek black couch that seems to have nearly been shredded right through the middle. The table has a bolted down chair and a large pile of papers next to a cracked laptop that splutters weakly as it asks for a password. The room is too dark. Chase slowly walks through it, wincing at the sound his boots make on the floor, wincing at the silence, heart racing with the promise of another panic attack that he pushes down forcefully, gripping his own wrist for support. This isn't right, screams the universe. This is too familiar. This is too real. This is too familiar to be real.

Chase has noticed that everything in this place, despite its immediate appearance of immaculate properness, seems to be slightly out of place. This becomes more apparent in the room adjacent to the one he'd just been in, a room filled with sealed metal crates and boilers that bubble menacingly from their perches on the walls, a room which has clearly been nearly destroyed. Black claw marks have torn out chunks of the walls, wires ripped from the floor, buzzing weakly and sparking from wherever they were thrown after their violent uprooting. Dark red stains splash across the floor like a tragic painting that makes Chase's stomach upturn sickly. A vent on the ceiling hisses, and the man jumps and bolts, all last dregs of courage leaving him in an instant. He knows this is a dream. This is a dream, nothing is real, nothing is real, it must be just a dream.

"I've gone to hell," he sobs aloud, clamping both hands over his mouth as a cry climbs up his throat. "O-oh my god, I've gone to hell."

This is what you get for being a shitty, alcoholic dad and husband, he thinks, and promptly throws up on the floor next to the fresh bloodstains.

The rooms start to blur. Objects to objects, light to light, black walls and coloured glow and sparks, hissing, echoing rumbles, all becoming one in Chase's mind. He's long gone past the stage of a panic attack; he's in a state of utter numb calm, now. In one room he finds a long, black lighter and holds it tightly in his hands for comfort, twisting it round and round in buzzing fingers just to feel something solid against his skin to ground him. Please, he prays softly, wiping sweat from his forehead, struggling to breathe as his chest tightens and the world seems to grow hotter and smaller. Please, let me wake up, let me wake up from this, please.

And then something is standing behind him.

He doesn't know how he knows. It's just a sensation of silent shock in him, of I am not alone, a stabbing feeling as the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Something is there. He feels eyes on him. He can't - fuck, he can't move, and all the emotion in him seems to be rising to a painful crescendo. I am not alone in here. I am not alone in here.

"Who's there," he says in a small, cracked voice, not daring to turn. It's barely a question. "What do you want from me."

Nothing but a low hissing, and, most frightening of all, a rumbling growl that nearly sends Chase to the floor in a faint.

He has to look.

He looks.

It's an… an astronaut.

Neither of them move, and Chase's grip on the lighter in his hands tightens, trying to find some form of comfort, anything. "Why am I here?" he manages, swallowing back hot bile that burns his throat and makes him gag softly. "Why, why, what nightmare is this? Am I dead? Did the killer get me and this is my hell?"

The astronaut is silent.

Fury bubbles in Chase's chest, overriding the fear for a moment. "Talk!" he shouts, perhaps stupidly, but he doesn't care. "Please! What is happening?"

Then things get perhaps even stranger, somehow. A glowing 2D box of light appears in front of the astronaut, hovering in the air, too quiet until black text begins to appear on it, cartoonishly video game like blooping noises playing with each letter. Chase watches in awe. He's unable to speak.

<TheAnti.chr_v09> You are the Player.

Chase reads the words over and over and over.

"My name is Chase Brody," he says, voice wavering with uncertainty, because something here is wrong, wrong, wrong, so ridiculously wrong, and he hates the way things are clicking in his mind. "I shouldn't - be here. I think I'm dreaming and I want to go home."

The text flashes.

<TheAnti.chr_v09> You are <player_variable_BroAverage>. You are the Player.

Chase feels like he's above his body, like nothing he's seeing is real anymore. "Please let me go home."

<TheAnti.chr_v09> I am <TheAnti.chr_v09>. I am the Anti. You are the player. Player objective: escape. Anti objective: kill the Player. Initialization - Upon game startup, play <soundtrack_opening2>, set spawn and character sprites -

Chase can't take this. "Stop it!" he cries, and he shouldn't step forwards so confidently, but he does, slashing his hand through the air in front of him. "Tell me what you -"

The astronaut explodes.

No. No, it doesn't explode; Chase's mind is taking a moment to make sense of it, to rationalize the way the helmet has shattered and there is nothing but sheer white and glowing green eyes, hundreds of them, underneath, the largest one on the being's neck, splitting open with disgustingly inhuman squelching sounds, and the way the suit has torn and a mouth has opened up on the stomach, a gaping maw with knives for teeth and a slimy crimson tongue, and the way rips open along the material and more eyes open, burning red skin like charred meat, black veins rising under its skin. It hisses and cracks and growls and hums and it isn't like anything Chase has ever seen before, or maybe it is, because he knows this monster. He's seen this monster. And fuck, now he knows why this world is familiar, because he's been here, he's played this game. This can't be real. This can't be real.

"Posttraumatic nightmares," he can hear Henrik saying to him, the man's voice comforting. "Nightmares that occur after a traumatic event and can contain, what is the word… recurring themes that make you experience intense negative emotions. Maybe that is why you are having such strange dreams, my friend. You have been through a lot in these past few weeks."

That had been months ago. I thought I got over those dreams. I thought I got over those dreams.

He's running. His legs are already burning, chest already tight, why did he have to have used all his energy on his panic attack? Is the monster still following him? Chase can't turn to check, and the blood in his veins is racing through his body faster than he's used to, his heart in his ears as he flies round a corner, barely able to catch a breath. This isn't real, he thinks. It's another nightmare. Please, this isn't real, this isn't -

And then something wet is snaking round his chest, pulsing in a way that makes Chase gag, and something sharp presses into the skin on his back and a burst of numbness runs over him like cold water, causing his body to go limp against the alien - because it is an alien, isn't it, he knew this already - behind him. Cold heaviness seeps through his veins, combatting the light weightlessness that the adrenaline was giving him. He tries to cough again, to speak as his lungs empty of air, but the alien only grips his arms tight enough to piece his skin with sharp claw-like fingers. A glance down at his chest, and he sees the tip of the bloodstained rod jutting through his skin. It doesn't really register. A light laugh escapes his lips, because it's funny, really, how he's about to die at the hands of a video game antagonist.

No, he's not about to die. This isn't real. It can't be, it's another bad dream, of course it is. But if it's not real, then what happened to Jack Mcloughlin and the others, all of those… all of…

The world spins.

And the world lights up in flames.

Chase had briefly forgotten about the lighter he'd picked up for support, and now he's putting it to good use; one flick of the switch and the alien is alight as though it had been soaked in gasoline, burning orange spreading across its suit, the crackling drowning out the monster's screeches. Its grip loosens on Chase's arms, and he pulls free, and the universe spins as the rod in his chest slips out like it's nothing, leaving a gaping emptiness in him. Please, he screams, in his mind or out loud, he doesn't know. Please. Please.

Please, wake me up.

White light. It floods the whole world, for just a moment, and then Chase's eyes are open and he is gasping for air, hands flying to his chest and feeling nothing but the soft material of his shirt, no pain except for the squeeze of his lungs as he coughs desperately into his sleeve. There are people surrounding him now; the police officers and armed guards from before, helping him sit up, holding a sick bucket in front of him as he throws up the little that's left in his stomach weakly, too much noise but nowhere near as bad as the silence of the Dawn Station. Nowhere near as bad as the hissing creaks of the Anti. Nowhere near as bad as his nightmare, because it was a nightmare, of course that wasn't real - nowhere near as bad as the nightmare that he'd thought was going to kill him.

I lived. I survived the night.

He's had this thought before, but this time, it's met with relief.

"You dreamed about the setting of a video game."

"Not just any video game. The, uh… the new Jack Mcloughlin game, Dawn Station. All the people who played the demo… died. I didn't die. The night I was supposed to, after all the others, I - I dreamed about the game. And the antagonist of the game. It's this, uh, this alien thing, in an astronaut suit. Tried to kill me. Apparently it's weak to fire, although I don't remember that from the actual game, maybe it was a secret that wasn't in the demo we were all sent, but I burned it, and it stabbed me, and I got away, not - not in that order. Does that… does that make sense, doctor?"

Dr. Ross scrutinizes Chase for a moment before turning his chair back to face his computer. The sound of his mouse clicking fills the room, off beat from the eternal clicking of the plain white clock on the plain white walls, decorated only with bookshelves and trays of medicines. Chase has never been in a more boring doctor's office. Usually his therapy sessions have more to look at, but this is a different therapist than he normally goes to, and all he can do is fidget with his hands on his lap and stare out the window at the

earth, the stars, the black abyss of emptiness that Chase could get lost in and never be found

setting sun through the trees just outside the building. The doctor's pen clicks, clicks, clicks. It sounds like the Anti's teeth, chattering against each other as it yawns, its maw opening wide enough for a head to be torn right off. Click, click, click. Chase closes his eyes, the repeating sounds like a mantra. He focuses on that instead. It grounds him.

"You have a history of nightmares."

Chase nods without looking. "I was prescribed triazolam by my first therapist. I took them for a year or so without changes except the lowering of doses a couple of times, because I was getting weaned off them. They helped. Nightmares didn't continue after that."

The other man nods slowly. "Hm. I can imagine the trauma of this recent event that you've been through was enough to bring these nightmares back to the forefront of your mind, especially given the contents of this dream in particular. We may have to ease you back onto medication over the course of your next few sessions here, which should be easier, given that it'll be a couple weeks before we send you home. Is that alright, Mr Brody?"

Click, click, click. Chase nods. Sunlight warms his face, and he sighs softly. "Sounds good, Dr. Ross. When will I be able to see my family?"

The man frowns, his forehead creasing. "Hopefully soon, although it will be slightly complicated, given the circumstances." A breath leaves him, and he tilts his head to the side slightly. His white collar digs into the fold of his neck. Chase keeps his eyes trained on that. "And these are strange circumstances, are they not?"

"They are," Chase mutters. He clenches his fists in his lap. "They are, yeah."

He should have died. He doesn't know why he didn't die. He doesn't even know what it was that killed the others. Really, the nightmare he'd had makes sense. It was easily written off as a traumatic event that had brought back old nightmares. Of course there was no way any of it had been real. That's ridiculous. Just ridiculous. He doesn't know why he's thinking that.

His hand trails down his shirt. Underneath, on the skin of his stomach, is a thick scar that hadn't been there before the nightmare he'd had. Right where the rod had pierced his stomach.

Coincidence. Coincidence.

"Do you have any other concerns, Mr Brody?"

"I don't believe so."

"Good."

Click. Click. Click.

#boop writes #jacksepticeye #chase brody #henrik von schneeplestein #antisepticeye #dawn station

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