#grandpa who lives purely off junk food

[deathmcth-archived]

i just know ayalon would buy those chocolate syrup bottles and squirt them directly into his mouth once he gets home . sickening. 

[mynameiscarat]

There for him

y/n is basically from @phenomenally-thrombey​’s headcanon 

Being Jacob’s older sister and being in College Included (Link:   https://phenomenally-thrombey.tumblr.com/post/610906383161884672/being-jacobs-older-sister-and-being-in-college)

Probably that’s the thing people call “tooth-rotting fluff”.

My English is broken, so dm me if you see any mistakes.

Sun was slowly setting, colouring pale winter sky rosy. Day ended, although clock just struck 7 pm. It was a beginning of December, time was closing to Christmas. You wanted to talk about getting a tree and decorations - you loved Christmas so much - but now, looking in faces of your mother, father and brother you understood it’s probably not the best time to do it. You all were having dinner... sort of. Donna and Walt were chatting crossly, eating their food without much interest. And Jacob was just staring into his plate, clearly disgusted. „Jacob, - you whispered, - eat, please. You didn't have anything at lunch.” He said nothing, as if he didn’t hear you. But the one who certainly heard you - your mum - looked at him and ordered: „Listen to your sister, young man. Stop making that face!” Jacob glanced at your parents and looked in his plate with even more disgust. „It's a junk. I won't eat it. - he snorted. - I want roastbeef. Roastbeef and yorkshire pudding with jam.” A terrible silence reigned in a kitchen.  „Son, - said Walt, barely hiding his irritation, - you know that we can not afford those dishes anymore. Be happy with that you have now. We’re broke. I'm currently trying to start my own publishing house, your mother is a civil servant. At small position.” „So what? Because of that I have to starve? Isn't it your duty to care about me? I’m so freaking done with it!” Walt let out a bitter chuckle: „Probably if you'd been a bit better grandson, we wouldn't have become nobodies. Have you even thought about taking responsibility?” „And have you, father? You were messing with grandpa, and eventually he fed up. Good job! I'm sure your goddamn publishing house will bankrupt in two month.” Walt became deadly pale, his hand slowly rising: „You little son of a-” „Dad, no! - you yelled, terribly scared. - Don't hit Jay!” Walt looked at you: „Y/n, I-” „Please, dad, no!! Don't do it!” - you were practically begging. Jacob was silent, staring at his lap. Another second passed. „Go to your room. Jacob Archibald Thrombey. - said Walt eventually through clenched teeth. - You won't have dinner today.” And your brother stormed from a kitchen, face pale from rage. Then you heared how door in his room slammed. You were still listening, when Walt said: „Eat, dove. You are such a good girl. We are proud of you, y/n” „Jacob has so much ambitions, but I don't think there's anything behind them. - Donna added. - Jacob wants to be rich, powerful and respected. But I don't think he is able to make his way to this position. But you! - oh, you will get respect. You're still planing to be an architect, right?” You smiled weakly, but your thought were with your brother.

Once youve finished fried eggs and sausages, you swiftly went out from the kitchen and approached Jacob”s room. Door was locked. You knocked gently: „Jay, may I-” „Fuck off, bitch!” - yelled he. No, not now. You sighed and made your way to your small room. It was a really small room. You managed to place there your bed and writing table only. Even your clothes had to be kept in parents room, which was slightly bigger. Jacob, actually, tried to occupy it but failed.  All your apartment, with kitchen, bathroom and three rooms could fit into one room in Thrombey's house... Martha's house. You didn”t want to be cross at her, you really didn't. You understood that she was there for Harlan when no one else was. That she was honest, kind and absolute goody-two-shooes. That she, eventually, deserved the house. But now memories about this wonderful house returned... Christmas memories.  In the hall a huge Christmas tree stands, bright lights everywhere. More and more presents are arriving. Wonderfull smell of turkey and  potatoes, stuffed in the oven, fills the house. And you and Jacob sits before TV, rewatching «How Grinch stole christmas» and eating candy.  „You're a real-life Grinch!” - say you, and Jacob smiles with this wide and evil smile... You sighed again and stared out. Snowfall begun.

You didn’t even understand what happened. Glowing watches on a shelf showed half passed one. The room were dark, parents were snorting in their room, you could hear it very clearly.  But there was something else. Through cracking of a floor, parent's snorts and howling of the wind you heard another sound that really woke you. There was something like whimpering... very light, barely audible - but heartwreching even in slumber. That's why you woke up.  You jumped off your bed and run into Jacob”s room. He was tossing and turning in his bed, moaning, like he was in pain. You shook him: „Jacob, wake up! Please, dear, wake up, it's just a dream” And he opened his eyes, pure terror in them.  „I couldn't find the exit... - he croaked. - There were no exit, like only room and a hallway, but I couldn't go out, I-” „It's just a nightmare, - you whispered, helping him to sit. - You fell asleep hungry and had a nightmare. But now it's okay, I'm here. Do you want me to find you something to eat?” You didn't get a proper responce, but still went to the kitchen. You spred four pieces of bread with butter and honey and made two cups of milky tea.  You returned to Jacob's room with tray, proud of not waking your parents up. You found your brother in the same position, hugging his knees and staring blankly into the void.  „Here, - you said, - I've brought food. Don't you think it's cool to have a night snack from time to time?” Jacob said nothing. He ate his bread and butter, and then yours, but didn't touch his tea. „Come on, - you gently urged him, - your tea will get cold” He obediently took a cup and drank it in one gulp. You stared at him. You didn't like when he was sarcastic, or bitter, or rude to you, good god, you didn't - but this doll-like state of his was even worse. „Jacob, please, tell me, what are you thinking about? - you said, taking his hand. He firstly tried to pull his hand out, but this time your grip was strong.” And then he said: „How on earth we're going to live?” You blinked: „What?” „Am I speaking Russian, y/n? I said, how we're going to live? Don't you see where it's going? Dad is a crappy businessman, and mom will never earn enough for four peope! We don't starve now? But we will! I hate this old bastard so much, I hope he suffered before he died, how could he, how could-” „Jacob” - you started seriously, but then you noticed how a tear rolled down your brother's cheek. Your swallowed. You wanted to comfort him so much, to hold him close to you.  But you knew you have to act slowly and at ease to succeed - or he will kick you out. „Jacob, - now your tone was low and steady, - please, listen to me. It's only your fear. Your perception is a bit curved. We were upper-class, we lived in luxury. And now we will just become the middle-class. It doesn't mean starvation. I'm absolutely sure dad will establish his publishing house, because he's smart and knows so much about publishing business - and because he loves us. He doesn't want us, his family, to be poor. There are, actually, some virtues in our position. We don't have grandpa's money, right, but on the other hand we're independent now. We don't have to act nicely with anyone if we don't want to” While you were talking, you slowly moved closer, put your hands on Jacob's shoulders and then - on his back. And after that you hugged him tightly, unable to restrain a sigh.  You didn't expect much, but then this happened. Jacob, your nasty, supposedly heartless brother hugged you back and put his head on your shoulder. Such thing happened only once, five years ago, when you fell ill with a serious flu.  You could barely breath. You forgot when you were so happy last time. „Jacob, Jacob, - you whispered, rocking him gently, - do you want me to stay with you this night?” He nodded. You turned out the lamp and got into bed. There was a moment when you got scared he won't let you hug him again, but he snuggled to you eagerly. „Rest, honey. - you kissed his forehead. - We will be fine. Believe me. We will be fine, we will be happy. I can even built another home one day, just for us. I can do it. I will be an architect, remember?” Soon his breathing became slow. He fell asleep. And you stayed awake for a bit longer, stroking his hair and back. Jacob was a difficult person, but you knew how to handle him. You loved your brother more than anything.

[roxannepolice]

Punishments, redemptions and force deprivations - or the b*tching that was promised

Arite, so I guess we all here agree that Luke’s naughty nephew can’t end this trilogy with so much as a tap on his wrist. Some reckoning is due for jedi killing, dad piercing, mind probing, force choking and village burning. But I guess we also all agree that it can’t be another redemption=death feast, we had it with his grandpa. 

So, all sorts of different theories as to how Kylo Ben will pay for his crimes have emerged, the most popular of those being maiming (particularly arm losing), exile (more or less self imposed), imprisonment (for term unknown) and force deprivation. Being frustrated with the apparent seductiveness of all of these tropes being flung here and there, I decided to explain why none of this makes much sense for a deeper narrative meaning. Disclaimer, though: I can’t say that the writers definitely won’t go there, I can only explain why they don’t make as much sense as they would seem at a first glance. I’ll also spend more time on the subject of force  deprivation, because it’s, frankly, probably the most tempting and the most shiver inducing.

First of all, all of the above options could be very strong narrative points – if they’re temporary. Yes, that would even include death, considering Rey’s heroine journey is likely to incorporate some rebirth imagery. Loss of arm is still an option to honour a family tradition, especially if Kylo Ben loses his crossguard lightsaber and has to use Luke’s green one - the weapon that made a would - for a while. But when any of those things is done permanently.... well, that’s where my bitching comes in.

Let us dissect what are narrative purposes of punishment, beginning with enumerating what they shouldn’t, though very often seem to, be:

giving audience a sense of justice – this is probably the most valid point among these. We certainly need some karma feast before we’ll forgive Kylo Ben. But that being said, the attitude of well, we don’t won’t him to die, so let him be permanently deprived in some other way has too much of hand washing vibe, IMO. That especially applies to force deprivation. We’re civilised people, popculture progressed so much since Vader... No, let him live, but let’s make sure he can no longer cause evil he’s caused by taking away from him a universal power dormantly binding all beings that he had too much of and clearly abused. *Sigh* This may be a heavy cannon, but this, y’all is

Goodness is something to be chosen. When a man cannot choose he ceases to be a man, if you get the drift. And no, this doesn’t mean I apply exactly the same morality to real life, this is fiction, here to provide me with a catharsis that may become reflection over real world, not give me straightforward answers about it, I can’t believe I had to consider this disclaimer

paying for the crimes – let’s get something straight. If you kill a murderer, you don’t bring back the people they’ve killed, you only get another dead person. I think we all agree here that Kylo Ben’s redemption will be through life, not death but also not any other punishment. Because him suffering won’t erase the suffering he’s caused

a lesson for the audience through a character, aka. cautionary – yes, I get it, Don Giovanni was a bad person to seduce thousands and commit murder, he refused to repent, Commandor’s ghost was right to drag him to hell, and good guys are even more right to sing Questo e fin di chi fa mal. I suppose I won’t be seducing people and killing their fathers now that I’ve seen a man dragged to theatrical hell. Congratulations, Wolfie, you’ve done a great job if you think’s that’s serious just listen to the opera and hear the mockery in the music

So, now that we’re clear on what aren’t the narrative purposes of punishment, let’s dig deeper beyond the surface level and see what hides beneath the above simulacrae.

evoking pity for the character – well, art isn’t a purely intellectual experience, we need some appeal to the emotions, too. What seems to us like justice getting it’s due is in fact evoking in us – and other characters – pity towards a reforming character. It’s rediscovering humanity where we denied its existence. Maiming, imprisonment, exile, torture and force deprivation would all have that effect on the audience, however they can easily turn to joy when the reformed villain has their status restored when they prove worthy

a declaration – when a villainous character willingly subjugates themselves to good guys’ justice, it serves to show that they aren’t just tossing words at wind. They want to change, in fact they want nothing more in their lives, so they would accept whatever price they have to pay for the world to allow them that change – even if it’s their life, to show that they accept the right of those they formerly fought. Again, all options match, though permanence is almost counterproductive

a lesson for the audience and a character – if nothing else works to for the villain to change their ways, they need a lesson, which will also serve as a food for thought for the audience. This is where the trope of paying with what they value most about themselves comes in, especially if pride was one of their sins. Ramsay Bolton trigger warning.

A warrior loses a hand, a seducer gets neutred, a prophet (seer) goes blind, a liar loses a tongue, Thor loses Mjolnir – an extremely powerful force user loses his force sensitivity. They need to understand what it’s like to be one of those they despised and abused – but, on a more positive note when a character is to become a hero, also learn that their value didn’t end at what they considered their only greatest asset.

This is Star Wars, it’s now adoptive sibling of MCU, not HBO, and that’s why I can see temporary, Thor-like, loss of force sensitivity in store for Kylo Ben – maybe that would be the revival in Rey’s story, should Disney-LF feel that actual BatB scene could be a tad too cheesy. So now I’ll delve into narrative options for force deprivation and explain why they all make more sense when temporary and not permanent:

he cuts himself away from it as a form of self-flagellation – done. And really, Luke’s whole arc in TLJ was about refusing to act being just as harmful as acting wrongly, so I can only see that scenario if it ends with Rey kicking another Skywalker’s ass out of useless pit of despair

he’s deprived of it by the bad guys – first of all, let’s discuss the logistics here. It’s not as if any technology or chemistry could actually bend the universal will to their own desire. The most it can do is mess with an individual’s nervous system enough for them to not be able to use it. I can see that happening to Kylo Ben, courtesy of Hux, once again, excellent occasion for Rey’s revival powers to shine. That being said – this here, is Faustus. Devil can have all the chirographs he likes, the doctor can willingly forfeit his soul – God and Margaret have different plans

he’s deprived of it by the good guys – so I suppose they could even try to be more delicate about than Hugsy. But it’s necessary. It’s just. It’s what the force wants, they know it, it’s they that keep telling each other may the force be with you. This here, on the other hand, is Tannhauser. The pope knows when a sinner is beyond redemption and has God’s word on his side to deny the absolution – and ends up with his staff springing leaves to show him he himself became blinded by pride

he just loses it. Force is done. he doesn’t deserve it – BITCH, NOW?!!!!!! YOU DID NOTHING TO PALPATINE, TO SNOKE, TO MAUL, EVEN TO VADER BUT NOW YOU INTERVENE? I KNOW ANAKIN HARDLY GOT HIS CHARACTER FROM SHMI, BUT REALLY????? There’s no narratively satisfying moment for that to happen (again, permanently) – if it happens after he turns, what the hell, now that he’s trying to actually make up for the evil, now he gets punished? This is no case of showing good will, what’s the point? If before – well, exactly, bitch, now? Not when Snoke started to get inside his head, not when he destroyed the jedi temple, not when he killed his father, not the moment he seized power, only some two years into his rule? Honestly, there’s only one way that would make sense – if he’s actually really effing evil as the renperor and... frankly, I root for his redemption because I believe he’s actually capable of being a good person before it’s his only option.

There are some other reasons why force deprivation would feel right to us. Some may want to see it as passing the torch entirely out of Skywalker bloodline and onto Rey (cue in some mystical feminism) – but, frankly speaking, you can’t have a trilogy packed to the brim with yin-yang imagery and then end it with yeah, they’re equal and mutually dependent parts but some parts are just equaller. In a way, Kylo Ben’s role isn’t to redeem himself only to redeem all of the darkness of the prime jedi.

There’s also the laying down the gun trope – the sheriff saves the city and then drops his star to go farming.  This feels right to us, even those who wish Reylo all the best. But that’s the problem with both accepted/self imposed force deprivation, exile and to some extent imprisonment – they all give a sense of peace.

And Kylo Ben deserves many things – corporeal punishment, learning what it’s like to not be force sensitive, sex with Rey, being a subject to mind probe (though I would say he had it the hard way with Snoke for years), losing his arm, fighting side by side with Rey, utter hellfire which will explode in his chest when he sees Chewie, showing off what the piece of junk can actually do, kissing every freckle on Rey’s skin, guiding a new generation of force users, especially those temped by extreme darkness, family with Rey. Punishment. Redemption. Life. Love. Happiness. 

But not peace. Not yet.

[jbankai89]

Never Let Me Go [6/37]

A/N: GOOD NEWS! For you guys, anyway. Because of my schedule going off-kilter this week, you guys get an early update, and an extra update on Friday. There is a brief POV switch towards the end of this chapter. I know that this bugs some people, so I figured I'd warn you now. Next update will be September 15th. Enjoy!

Chapter Five – Talk

One week later, Yuri watched as the house filled with a buzz of activity.

He kept to his room, out of the way of the various servants, florists, caterers, and party planners that darted about the place, shouting about flower arrangements, and fairy lights, and how many spinach puffs and mini-quiche to plate for the guests.

To Yuri, it sounded less like a generic party, and more like they were preparing for a wedding.

Worse still was how left out Yuri felt in listening to the preparations.

He didn't care.

He didn't want to care.

But to insist on attending would mean allowing Otabek to mark him, and that was just not happening.

As a result, Yuri did his best to avoid everyone and hide away. He supposed Otabek would have asked him to anyway, and this was one command that he had no issues following to a T. If word got out that an unmarked omega was wandering around the house, there would be hell to pay for it.

Yuri had avoided the library since that day when he'd been cornered by that alpha, and now spent a lot of his time sleeping in his room, for he had nothing else to do. The one computer he'd seen—the iMac in Otabek's room—was password protected, so he couldn't peruse cat videos on the internet, and he had no access to a mobile phone. Unlike betas his age, who seemed incapable of living without their phones and internet, Yuri was not really ruffled by this. He'd been living in something close to poverty before his sixteenth birthday, and there had been no internet access in the Omega House—at least, not for the omegas. Yuri had never felt like he had missed out on much, but now with so little to do, he almost wished that he had a way to access the internet.

Of course, there was always the option of simply asking Otabek for the password to his computer. But, he had not yet gotten desperate enough to ask Otabek for so much as a toothpick, much less access to the World Wide Web.

The day of the party, Yuri's halfhearted wanderings led him into the living room, barefoot and dressed in dark grey lounge pants and an oversized T-shirt. He had only just laid down on the sofa with the intent to stare blankly at the ceiling when he heard the soft shuffle of footfalls following him into the space, and he gritted his teeth when the soft sound was paired by a familiar alpha scent.

Otabek.

Couldn't the man take a damn hint and leave him alone?

Yuri could see him approaching from where he lay, and thus felt no need to move. He did shuffle away when Otabek sat down near to Yuri's head, but a hand pressed into his sternum, and it stopped him from going very far.

“I have to wonder,” Otabek said, his expression impassive, “aside from your punishment, have you been so ill-treated here that it would warrant flinching every time I get close to you?”

Yuri sat up, and Otabek let him go. He curled up at the opposite end of the sofa and glared at the alpha. Still, Otabek's expression was carefully blank.

“Yes,” Yuri replied in a deadpan tone of voice, “you're keeping me here against my will—I'm your prisoner. I'd say that's reason enough.”

“You're not my prisoner,” Otabek replied, “you're my mate. I claimed you, but I do not own you. I wanted to wait for your request for me to mark you, but maybe I should have taken a more...direct approach?”

“Wh-what?”

Otabek closed the distance between them in one fluid motion, and Yuri's breath caught. He could feel the power radiating off of him, and his latent omega senses hummed with pleasure in the presence of such a strong alpha. Heart in his throat, Yuri pressed himself back against the upholstery, but Otabek did not back off. He cupped Yuri's cheek and pulled him forward, his lips a hairsbreadth from the omega's, and Yuri squirmed in the hold, but Otabek did not let go.

“I've heard that some omegas respond best when taken to heel,” Otabek purred, his breath tickling over Yuri's mouth as he spoke, making the omega shiver. “Is that you? If I marked you right now, would you be less resistant to me?”

Panic began to bubble inside Yuri like molten lava. He reached up and clawed weakly at Otabek's chest, the fabric of his T-shirt bunching under his fingers, but the alpha was too strong for him, and it was like trying to move a brick wall with his bare hands.

“Don't,” Yuri whispered in a panic, “please, please don't do this...”

Miraculously, Otabek listened, and let him go. He eased back against the sofa, still barely a foot away from the omega, but despite the close proximity, Yuri no longer felt like he was about to be assaulted.

“I'm not a monster, Yuri,” Otabek said, “I want you—I'm not about to give up on you.”

Before Yuri knew what was happening, Otabek swept in again and brushed his lips over Yuri's in a feather-light kiss. His breath caught again and his heart seemed to beat a little faster, but before he could fully process what had happened, Otabek was on his feet and headed out of the room.

~*~

Yuri spent the rest of the day on his own, and when evening began to fall, he was quietly approached by  Stephenson.

“Master Yuri,” he said as he offered him a small, courteous bow. “I am afraid the Master is indisposed, and cannot see you to your rooms for the evening, but he asked that I escort you there. Your dinner as well as a miniature fridge of snacks and beverage have been sent up, and he has moved a number of his collection of video games and films to your room that he felt you would enjoy.”

Yuri pursed his lips, feeling oddly like he was being shuffled off to solitary confinement, but nodded and followed the butler out of the lounge where he had been brooding, and headed up to his room.

As they walked, Yuri caught sight of Otabek, apparently already prepared for the party in black tie, and Yuri felt himself go a little red as he quickly looked away, and tried to not think about how good the man looked in a suit. Regardless if he was the most handsome man alive or had a face like a stone fish, Yuri knew that he was still his keeper, not his friend—and definitely not his partner.

Inside the room, as promised, a huge spread of junk food had been laid out for him—pizza, soft drinks, fried potato wedges, and more—including, he noted, a plateful of pirozki.

The huge flat-screen TV that Yuri had paid little mind to up til now was also adorned with a Wii, Xbox, Blu-Ray player, and an enormous stack of video games and Blu-Ray discs. Next to it, he saw the aforementioned mini-fridge, and stacked on top of it were bags of chips, cookies, and candies.

To anyone else, it would have been viewed as a miniature paradise, but Yuri felt as though he could still see the cage bars through the gifts laid out before him.

This feeling only increased when Stephenson bowed his way out of the room, and Yuri heard the soft snick of the lock shifting into place behind him.

“And still Master Otabek is shocked when I tell him I feel like a fucking prisoner here...” Yuri sneered, and wandered over to the bed, where he fell down upon it with a heavy, despondent sigh.

I want to go home...

Immediately, thoughts of home filled his mind.

His grandpa's tiny wooden shack by the seaside, where his grandfather worked as a fisherman, and spent his free time whittling and selling the tiny figures he made to high-end shops to bring in a little extra money. It always smelled of fried fish, and despite the fact that they rarely had enough to make ends meet, Yuri never recalled feeling depressed or miserable at that little house, not even without the presence of his parents.

Yuri couldn't remember his mother and father. He remembered the story, he couldn't count the number of times his grandfather had told it to him; his parents had driven off to go camping, and had left Yuri with his grandpa. There had been an accident, and both his parents had died before he could even walk.

Yuri had been with his grandfather ever since, and looking back, he still missed him terribly, no less than when he'd first been taken away to that first Omega House.

Yuri rolled onto his stomach with a heavy sigh, and stared out despondently at the sea of luxury before him. He could hear the first notes of music beginning to play from somewhere below him, and the soft murmur of the guests beginning to trickle in.

I feel like someone's toy that's been discarded for the evening or something...

Quite suddenly, he heard the shift of the lock of his door opening, but given that he could perfectly see the door from where he lay, he felt no need to move as he watched it swing open to admit...Yuuri.

Standing at his back was the silver-haired Viktor, while Stephenson stood to his left, holding the door for him. Viktor said something softly to Yuuri, but Yuri was too far away to hear exactly what it was. The dark-haired omega turned to the alpha, and they shared a quick kiss. Viktor placed a hand on Yuuri's hip, and the opposite one he used to gently caress Yuuri's cheek. He was smiling warmly at the omega, a look of pure, unhindered adoration on his face.

“Thank you, Stephenson,” Yuuri said to the butler at last, and he offered the omega a short bow before Yuuri stepped inside, and Stephenson shut the door behind him..

Yuuri looked more or less the same as the last time Yuri had seen him, if perhaps a little more well-groomed.

His old boxy, blue glasses were gone and they had been replaced with a more attractive pair of black horn-rimmed frames. His hair had been slicked back nicely, and he was dressed in a fine suit of black and violet. The thing about that drew Yuri's eyes the most however was the circular white scar that was visible at the base of Yuuri's throat.

It was true, Yuri realized, Yuuri had been marked.

“Um, hi Yurio,” Yuuri said nervously, and Yuri glared at him.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” Yuri said as he stood up and padded over to his fellow omega.

“Sorry,” Yuuri mumbled, and dropped his gaze to his shiny patent leather shoes.

“Whatever,” Yuri rolled his eyes and motioned lazily with his hand towards the huge spread of food. “You hungry?”

The pair sat at the small table and ate their way through the offered junk that Otabek had left for them. Neither omega interacted very much, save for Yuri to smack Yuuri's hand away when he reached for the pirozki. It was a fancy, upscale version of his favourite food, and nowhere near as good as his grandfather's had been, but they were still pirozki, therefore they were his.

“Has...what-his-name...” Yuri paused, and Yuuri turned to look at his companion, apparently startled by his abrupt choice of topic after nearly a full hour of silence. “Uh, Vlad or whatever been treating you good?”

“Viktor,” Yuuri corrected, his mouth twitching a little in the corners as he said it. “And...yes, I suppose. Overall I don't feel...” he trailed off, and shook his head. “It's confusing, you know? He marked me right away and when my heat started a few days later he took me to bed right away. I didn't really have time to process anything before he...” Yuuri broke off again, and shook his head. “He's never hurt me, and he made me feel like I wanted it, and he's really kind and generous and everything, but it still feels...like I'm trapped. Is that strange?”

“No, it's the same for me,” Yuri replied as he threw down the remnants of the pizza slice he'd been eating, his appetite suddenly gone. “Otabek acts like...like I'm his partner, or lover, or whatever you want to call it, and keeps saying he'll wait for me to want to be marked by him, but he collared me and put a tracking chip in me, and when I tried to get out, he...” Yuri trailed off, and ground his teeth as he remembered it. A shiver ran through him; he was quite certain that he'd never forget what that pain had felt like.

“Yurio?” Yuuri prompted nervously, “what...what did he do?”

Yuri glanced up, and saw Yuuri watching him with a worried look in his eye. Yuri grimaced.

“He...beat me,” Yuri replied, and shivered. Yuuri's eyes went wide. “He said that he didn't want to, and he...he hit me really damn hard. I was black and blue for ages, and he kept saying that I brought it on myself...”

A warm hand suddenly covered his own, and he glanced down. Yuuri's hand was smaller than his, the older omega had dainty little hands, while Yuri's were longer—artist's hands, his grandfather used to call them. It looked oddly strange to him to see such small hands on top of his own.

“I'm sorry that he did that to you,” Yuuri said softly, and Yuri blinked hard as a lump suddenly began to form in his throat. Damn it, did he have to cry now?

“I just...” Yuri sniffed sharply, and tugged his hand away from the older omega to roughly rub at his eyes. “I just want to go home. I hate it here. But he won't let me. I want to go home and make pirozki with my grandfather, and go out with him on his little trawler, and whittle with him, and...God, I just...I hate being here, I feel like it's more than I can take.”

“Life of an omega,” Yuuri replied softly, “alphas believe that we exist for them—for their pleasure. According to them, we barely have independent thought. We're just pretty faces and small bodies for them to claim whenever they feel like it.”

Yuri nodded in agreement, and had opened his mouth to speak again. However, Yuuri beat him to it, and dropped something of a verbal bomb on their maudlin conversation.

“I'm pregnant.”

Yuri whipped around to look at him, and he looked just as terrified as the day that Viktor had claimed him. There was a harrowed, haunted look in his eyes, and he seemed to be looking right through Yuri as he said it, blinded by his own fear at his uncertain future.

“Oh.” Yuri grimaced at how insincere he sounded. “Does...he know?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri replied hollowly, “he's really excited. He said he's always wanted a big family, and that he'll take care of me during it and everything, but...I'm still so scared. This will completely bind us together. He's good to me, but I don't know if I even l-love him...I don't know if I ever could. I just...I have this crazy fantasy of running away to a place where it's safer for us, like...Denmark, or Sweden or somewhere, and raising this child with someone I actually love, not someone who just...took me.”

“I know what you mean,” Yuri replied, and reached out for his hand. He had never been very good at offering kindness, or advice—he'd never been a caregiver. But Yuuri needed support, even Yuri could see how desperate and alone the omega was feeling. He squeezed Yuuri's hand, and the older man feebly returned the gesture.

“Come on,” Yuri said as he pulled Yuuri to his feet, then led him towards the almost comically large television. “Let's destroy our friendship.”

Yuuri blinked.

“Uh, what?”

Yuri held up the case for a video game, Mario Kart, and Yuuri suddenly seemed to understand the reference. Chuckling, he nodded, and sat down on the sofa before the TV while Yuri went about setting it up.

“It's been so long since I've gotten to play any video games,” Yuuri said conversationally as he accepted a controller from Yuri. “Before...you know, the Omega House, I was so focused on making my parents happy, doing things that would make them remember me fondly, I never really did things for myself...”

“So you're saying you're rusty?”

Yuuri smiled. I was a light, almost bashful smile as the Wii booted up.

“A bit, I used to be okay at it, though.”

Yuri could not help but smirk a little.

I will destroy you, Katsuki Yuuri.

Okay, maybe destroy was a bit of an exaggeration...

Yuri glared at the scores, while Mister I-Haven't-Played-In-Years smiled bashfully at his string of first-place victories.

“You are so lying,” Yuri burst out as he abandoned all hope and selected the bane of every Mario Kart player's existence—Rainbow Road. “You must have played recently, you're too good!”

“No, really!” Yuuri protested as he eyed the course they were about to take nervously, “I haven't played since I was like fourteen...”

“I call bullshit,” Yuri grumbled, and his older companion offered him a small, apologetic smile. “Whatever, let's just get this over with.”

“Last one, please? My thumbs are starting to hurt...”

“Augh, fine, Old Man. Winner picks the movie.”

“I can live with that,” Yuuri replied with a bright smile, and Yuri nodded once as he hit start.

Rainbow Road was still a bitch and a half, but Yuri was markedly pleased that he hadn't fallen off yet. That was a good thing, given that he and Yuuri were neck-and-neck in first and second place, frequently passing each other by a hair.

Yuri was grinding his teeth at this, but then—a miracle happened, and he made it over the speed boost, but Yuuri was on the bare edge of it. Yuri tilted the D-pad to the left, and rammed Yuuri off the road completely.

“Hey! No fair!” he cried as Princess Peach screamed all the way down, and Yuri let out a cackle.

“All's fair in love and war...and Mario Kart. Deal with it.”

Yuuri looked a little hurt, but kept playing as his character was revived, and dropped back on the road—in fifth place.

I so got this.

Yuri smirked, and pushed Toad harder. He stopped checking Yuuri's side of the screen, and as the second lap gave way to the third, he heard Yuuri gasp sharply. Yuri ignored it—likely, the older omega just worked out that he'd never catch up, not this time.

Yuuri did, in fact, catch up. Yuri could see his little icon gaining on him as the finish line approached, but even in second place, there was no way he would catch up in time.

Until he heard the telltale dissonant screeches bearing down on him that meant only one thing.

“Oh, you fucking asshole!” Yuri cried, but it was too late.

I don't got this.

“Nooooo—!” Yuri cried, much more dramatically than he meant to, as the blue shell slammed down into him, and he rolled right off the road as Yuuri zipped past.

He managed a measly fourth place, and sulkily tossed the controller down while Yuuri smiled at him sheepishly.

“Sorry, but...ah, I guess I win?”

“There should be a law against using the blue shell when your competitor is like two seconds away from the finish line,” Yuri grumbled. “That was beyond criminal.” He crossed his arms, and nodded to the Blu-Ray discs Otabek had left. “Go pick something.”

Yuuri offered him one more meek smile, then got up and began to shuffle through the large stack.

“How about this?”

Yuuri held up one of the Blu-Ray discs, and Yuri did his best to not wrinkle his nose. Why on earth did Otabek think he'd enjoy Notting Hill?

“It was your win,” Yuri replied stiffly, “you pick. If you want to watch it, we'll watch it.”

Yuuri offered him another one of his shy smiles, and went about turning on the Blu-Ray player and inserting the disc. He then grabbed the blanket from the bed and a box of mint Oreos before he settled back down next to his companion, and draped the blanket over the two of them, with the cookies in the middle.

“These would probably go better with hot chocolate or tea or something,” Yuri remarked as he ripped the box open and fished out one of the cookies.

“We could call Stephenson and ask—” Yuuri began, but Yuri was quick to cut him off.

“—no,” he said quickly. “I don't want to request anything from that—from him. This is fine.” Yuri crammed the Oreo in his mouth and chomped down in an effort to end the conversation. Yuuri seemed to understand, at least somewhat, and started the film without comment.

Yuri found the lack of beheadings, blood splatters, or scary monsters extremely boring, and his eyes glazed over as he watched the screen and mechanically ate cookie after cookie until his stomach began to protest, and he pushed the box away with a small groan. Yuuri, on the other hand, seemed completely entranced by the film, and rested his chin on his knees as he watched, his eyes sparkling a little in the dim light of the room.

~*~

Exhausted by the stressful day, Yuri was quick to nod off, and Yuuri seemed to have become Sleepy By Association as he, too, fell asleep before the movie ended. Their heads rested against one another in slumber, while the empty cookie box tumbled to the floor and scattered crumbs all over the carpet.

Quite suddenly the door unlocked, but neither omega reacted to the click the lock made as it shifted out of place. A pair of silhouettes framed in the doorway; they slipped inside one by one, and Viktor smiled warmly when he spotted the pair of omegas curled up together and dead to the world.

The alpha padded over to them quietly, and upon reaching them he reached out to stroke Yuuri's hair lovingly. The omega let out a tiny sigh, and leant into the touch.

Very carefully so as not to rouse him, Viktor peeled back the blanket and scooped Yuuri up bridal-style, with the omega's head resting lightly against the alpha's shoulder. The moment Yuuri was pulled away from the sofa, Yuri slumped to the side a little more, apparently still in a dead sleep, and did not seem to notice his companion's absence.

“We'll talk soon about getting together to let our omegas catch up,” Viktor whispered softly as he approached Otabek, who had been leaning against the door's frame and watching them silently. “Yuuri's been so depressed lately, I think it'd be good for him to have someone besides me to talk to...”

“They're not children, Viktor,” Otabek hissed just as softly, “we don't need to structure play dates for them. Just come by for coffee and bring Yuuri along; this doesn't need to be complicated.”

Viktor nodded his thanks, and then tip-toed out of the room with Yuuri still in his arms.

Otabek leant against the door's frame for a moment longer, and only when he distantly heard the front door shut did he turn into the room for his omega.

Yuri was still curled up on the sofa, cocooned inside the blanket, and he looked more peaceful than Otabek could recall ever seeing him before. Otabek padded over silently, and just like Viktor, he carefully scooped the omega up, and carried him over to the bed.

Otabek carefully tucked Yuri in, and then sat lightly on the edge of the bed, idly stroking his omega's soft, silky hair, while he undid his tie with his opposite hand.

He probably has no idea how lovely he is... Otabek thought, a small smile gracing his face as he watched his omega sleep, we'll make such beautiful children when the time comes...

The idea of children, not for the first time, made Otabek's heart flutter with excitement. He longed to mark Yuri, to make love to him, and then see his belly swell with the fruits of their labour. Nothing—nothing was more erotic to him than the idea of his Yuri heavy with child.

“I'll get you there, Yuri,” Otabek whispered, “I promise, no matter what, I won't do it until you feel ready...”

Yuri moaned, and rolled over a little. Otabek's hand stilled in his hair, but after a moment, he realized that the omega was still very much asleep.

“Home...Grandpa...” Yuri mumbled in sleep, and Otabek felt his stomach knot with jealousy.

Before he did anything that he'd likely regret in the morning, he leant in to kiss his omega's temple, then stormed from the room.

A/N: If you like my work, please consider throwing a few bucks into my Digital Tip Jar. I am a starving artist, and I like not actually starving to death :P  NLMG Masterpost