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a-clockwork-justice · 3 years ago

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Everything I Love About Loser Geek Whatever

So, not too long ago, it was the third birthday of Loser Geek Whatever. Yes, I know the single was released on November 30th 2018 and its considered the song’s official birthday, but the 26th July three years ago was the first showing of the 2018 Off-Broadway revival of Be More Chill and the first time Loser Geek Whatever was shown to the world in any capacity. Therefore, I consider that day to be the song’s unoffical birthday and I’ve been waiting to write down everything I love about it so here I am. (This was originally gonna be posted on the 26th July but I can’t make anything concise so it took longer than that).

I’ve gone on and on about what Loser Geek Whatever means to me personally, how a slew of random chance introduce me to it, got me deep into Be More Chill, introduced me to 90% of my current friends, and overall up-ended my whole life, but now it’s time to dissect the song itself and why it’s so great. As much as I adore Loser Geek Whatever, it could’ve easily been any other song that threw me down a rabbit hole and that I could’ve latched onto- no, wait, it couldn’t have been, because Loser Geek Whatever is unique in that way. I did about a year of music at A-Level so I’m gonna delve into some of the technical aspects here too. I’m chronicling this mostly for myself so I am going as deep as I see fit because this song is a treasure hiding yet more treasures. If you happen to love Loser Geek Whatever as much as I do, this’ll be your goldmine.

So, grab a snack my fellow fans, because here’s a comprehensive list of everything to love about Loser Geek Whatever in roughly chronological order. Long post incoming:

The song starts off strong from the first millisecond - I don’t know what instrument(s) they used but just listen to the single version again - that opening chord blares at you like a siren. It calls for your attention, screaming this is incredibly important, and indeed it is. That chord, an F chord, has no indication as to whether it’s major or minor - it’s just the tonic F with its dominant C and another tonic F above it. In other words, it’s unresolved, it hangs in the air. From a narrative standpoint, Jeremy is at a crossroads, torn between giving into the SQUIP or staying loyal to Michael, and the music paints this. It has the same effect on both the single and album versions - I always hold my breath as it holds, it’s the gap in this crucial transition for Jeremy between who he was and him becoming something he isn’t.

To continue the thread of musical painting, the melody line contains the accidental E-flat which doesn’t belong to the key of F major. This once again illustrates Jeremy’s uncertainty, but there’s more - the whole introduction is a slowed-down version of the Apocalypse of the Damned theme from Two Player Game, arguably the point in the show when Michael and Jeremy’s relationship was at its strongest. Jeremy’s recalling everything he had with Michael, but the slowing down of the melody shows hesitancy, along with highlighting the accidental E flat. These latter points of course aren’t unique to Loser Geek Whatever - they’re also in the section of Upgrade that twins with Loser Geek Whatever. I’m just laying out why they work so well.

I’m glad I waited until after I saw the show in London to finish writing this - I’m something of a Loser Geek Whatever purist, as made clear by my ire at them cutting it in half and tacking the end of Upgrade back on for the London version. I still enjoyed the show in London though and I’m glad I knew about this change ahead of time, because they did change something about the song that I think really worked - they added two notes in the bass to each bar, like heartbeats, which once again signifies Jeremy’s uncertancy and the importance of this major turning point.

It’s been firmly established by this point that Jeremy is a loser and he knows it. He doesn’t want to be a hero, he just wants to survive, but there’s a difference between that and feeling “inconsequential.” Jeremy is basically admitting that, in his eyes, it doesn’t matter to the world or anyone except Michael if he even survives or not. He’s not just a loser, or a geek - he’s a whatever, with no one caring who he is. And he’s felt this way for years - since middle school began. He’s now in his Junior year of high school - that’s five years of being in this state of being unnoticed at best and picked on at worst. He’s “the one who’s left out”. With just one little line, hell, one word, we’re given more layers as to why he so badly wants to change that.

Moving from the first verse to the chorus, we start to see Jeremy’s attitude shift, from being sad to being angry - he’s frustrated, resentful that he’s spent so long in this state (A lot of people have made similar comparisons about Will Roland’s Jeremy as a whole in relation to Will Connolly’s Jeremy and I think this song exemplifies that). He doesn’t deserve to feel this horrible - not now and certainly not for the next two years until he and Michael can be “cool in college.” When you think about it, what options does he really have? He could either give into the SQUIP or reject it and go back to where he was, still miserable and lonely. Yes, he has Michael and Michael is an amazing, kind, loyal best friend, but as many have pointed out, he’s also dismissive of Jeremy’s feelings of inadequacy whether he means to be or not, which only made Jeremy feel more lonely. Should Jeremy just expect to feel better about himself at some point before college? He’s waited for years, why would that happen at any other point?

More layers baby! Second verse, Jeremy rants on about his father’s advice about following his own instincts and how it’s gotten him nowhere he wants to be. Come to think of it, Michael’s advice about staying the same and waiting for their environment to change can be seen as similar - it’s arguably easier for Michael as he has two loving mothers who undoutably give him plenty of positive reinforcement. Meanwhile, Jeremy’s mother has left them, which likely instilled further feelings of not being good enough, and his father has fallen apart to the point where he can’t even put pants on, let alone step up to take care of his son, meaning that Jeremy likely isn’t going to take his advice very seriously, especially after it’s failed him so thoroughly. But to Jeremy, the problem isn’t necessarily the advice itself - it’s that it’s being followed by him. So now he’s going to turn around and put his life and every choice in something else’s hands, even if - no, especially if it goes against his own instincts. It still doesn’t feel quite right, it “feels bizarre”, but it’s getting him somewhere, so it has to be right in the most meaningful capacity, and to Jeremy, the “most meaningful capacity” is any capacity that isn’t his own.

Now the best line - the one about being a “normal, handsome guy”. Let’s get this on the table - Jeremy is trans. Will Roland himself said that he often thinks of the show’s young trans fans when he sings that line. Naturally, societal transphobia plus gender dysphoria would have a pretty catestrophic effect on the self-esteem of any growing teenager, even more so one in Jeremy’s situation for the reasons I’ve just laid out. He’s probably missed out on a lot of things that “normal” guys take for granted, with most girls barely looking in his direction, let alone in any positive manner. Jeremy’s own sexuality aside, it’s mostly society, and the SQUIP by extension, that considers scoring with girls to be a “manly” or masculine activity, and through Brooke treating him as dateable material, Jeremy feels better about fitting into society’s rules of how a man should be and act. This isn’t the only reason he feels good about Brooke finding him attractive, of course, but it’s just another layer that Jeremy sees more value in conforming to how society says he should be rather than in how he actually is.

I know I just said that the last point was about the best line, but honestly, there’s more than one best line in this song. The bridge is where we start to see Jeremy’s language becoming more technologically inclined - “prompt”, “command” and “bandwidth” are all terms used in computing and used to show how Jeremy is likening himself, or his intentions, to a computer, effectivly merging himself and his SQUIP into one entity and Jeremy willingly giving over his own individuality.

And HERE, we get to the kicker. I’ve talked a lot about layers throughout this whole essay, about themes and motifs building on each other. Jeremy is essentially peeling back the layers of his own situation and only finding reason after deeper reason after deeper reason as to why he should follow the SQUIP and not be a loser anymore. Now, he hits the core, the seed, the crux of it all - “The problem has ALWAYS BEEN ME!!” Everything he is, everything that makes Jeremy Heere himself, is and has always been wrong. This line is a gut punch and EVERYONE knows it - the performer always takes a few seconds to let it sink in before continuing.

As an aside, I wanna mention the differences between the single and the album versions of the bridge. The album version starts of quieter after the vocalising of the last chorus, and builds up to the climactic final line, while the single version is loud all the way through but gets even louder and punchier at the end. Both are good, but I personally prefer the single version - the album sounds like Jeremy is broken and desperate and on the verge of tears as he reaches his inevitable but ugly realisation. The single is also desperate, but it’s pleading and all-consuming and a THOUSAND times more powerful, I get chills every time I hear it. (Side note, the London version starts of loud like the single and ends quieter like the album, almost as if Jeremy is reluctant to admit what he truly believes about himself, and it’s easy to see why, it’s a damn harsh condemnation).

“Take a breath and get prepared” - Jeremy sings to both himself and the audience. The first half has been heavy and we need a breather. Yet just before he goes over the brink, he has second thoughts. His conscience, his own voice in his head, breaks through, warning him that his choice will have consequences for other people than himself. People will get hurt - Michael most of all. Not just by Jeremy ditching him; here’s something else - when Jeremy is the “cool dude”, he might end up being a bully to those who are losers just like him, cutting them down just as Rich’s SQUIP made Rich do to him. Who would be the perfect target for Jeremy’s potential future bullying? His former best friend and fellow loser, Michael Mell. It’s pretty damn likely that if the SQUIP hadn’t optic nerve blocked Michael, it would’ve told Jeremy to pick on him, and even though Michael has ostensibly been pretty good at brushing these things off before, the takedowns would hurt a LOT more coming from his former best friend - and we know this because IT ACTUALLY HAPPENS, granted without the SQUIP influencing Jeremy directly (also let’s just clear up that just because the SQUIP wasn’t on doesn’t mean its influence on Jeremy hadn’t disappeared - that’s not how emotional abuse works).

Twelve years of loyal friendship, of borderline unhealthy codependency … can he throw all that away for Christine, a girl he’s thus admired from afar and is only just starting to get to know as a person? Moreover, even if Jeremy gets Christine, what about himself, who he wants to be? He just wants to be something other than himself because he thinks that anything is better but … what? The cool dude, the hero or … whatever. He’ll take anything because he’s that desperate, but what about when he gets it? Will he finally be satisfied? Will it be worth failing his one real friend, an act so scummy that the only way he could possibly stomach it would be to somehow pretend he hadn’t done it?

But none of those questions matter to Jeremy now - he’s fully gaslit into believing that every thought and inclination that comes from himself is wrong and shouldn’t be followed. He needs to sync up with the SQUIP and the rest of the world and mute his own defective inner voice. When you think about it, the relationship between Jeremy and the SQUIP is one of the most intense abusive relationships ever put to fiction - we’ve seen emotional abuse and brainwashing before, but here, Jeremy is literally preventing from THINKING the wrong way because the SQUIP can detect his every thought. See what I mean when I say that doesn’t go away when the SQUIP turns off for a few minutes?!

Throughout all of this is the undercurrent of Jeremy wanting to get better. He’s been trying so hard for so long to have a better life, but nothing has worked. Not listening to his dad, not trying to get closer to Christine through theatre, and certainly not listening to Michael’s advice to wait until college. Why should he resign himself to even more time being miserable with no end in sight? After all, being cool in college isn’t a guarantee. After all he’s been through, it’s his turn to finally be cool, after an eternity of being someone he doesn’t want to be.

Another best line in this song - “I’m Player One.” As mentioned a few times in the show before, like in the Broadway upgrade, Jeremy feels lower even in his friendship with Michael - he’s Player 2 as the more experienced Michael is Player 1. As previously established, Jeremy admits that he’s “not the one who the story’s about.” Now he’s ready to finally take control of his life, be the main character and have good things happen to him, and that means cutting out Michael, the old Player 1. The irony here is that Jeremy is less like Player 1 and more like a video game avatar. In reality, the SQUIP is Player 1, making Jeremy do whatever it demands of him.

More best lines! The slew of insults towards the end serves not just as yet more gut punches for the audience but as a major catharsis for Jeremy - It’s telling that the insults get harsher as his rant goes on, from the “weirdo” to the “weakling freak” to the “failure” to the climactic “please don’t speak”. He’s unloading everything that he’s been carrying over the years, ripping out the bullets that have been embedded in his skin and re-opening all the wounds in the process, but he’s done with the pain and he’ll never ever let himself be hurt like that again, if he follows the SQUIP.

I’ve made a whole post about the significance of the best line “Please Don’t Speak” before so I’ll mostly be repeating a lot of what I said there because it’s been a while since that post and because I want to. Who would’ve said that to Jeremy? Probably not Rich or Chloe, it’s not like them. It had to have come from an adult in a position of authority that could’ve commanded Jeremy not to speak like that - one that apparently did so enough times for him to internalise those words like he did the others. (Even worse if it was more than one adult ...). Out of all of the insults, it’s easy to see how that can easily be the most scarring out of all of them - how would an adult let a child know they’re inadequate? By silencing them. Making it clear that their expression of self not only means nothing, but should be forcibly avoided. Put like that, it makes it much easier to see how and why Jeremy fell under the SQUIP’s influence so easily - telling it was hardly different from authority figures he’s experienced before. In even more sad irony, as Jeremy claims that he’s breaking free and letting go of his past as the “please don’t speak”, he’s just walking right into another, similar trap that he can’t easily escape from. The SQUIP literally vocal cord blocks him during The Play - if that doesn’t say “Please don’t speak,” what does?!

The climax is growing! The music shifts into the relative minor as Jeremy fully gives in to the SQUIP’s evil influence. This is the point of no return, the point where he’s literally being surrounded and overtaken - if you’ve seen this on stage or even just a bootleg, you’ll know what I mean, when the lighting shifts and the circuitry start closing in around him, it’s wonderful. The bass ascends, Jeremy declares once and for all that HE IS NOT THE LOSER, THE GEEK, OR WHATEVER, and he never will be again! As some have pointed out, the sequence of notes on the final “again” is the same as at the end of Be More Chill Part 2, except the last note is different. In BMC part 2, it goes further down by a minor third, but in Loser Geek Whatever, it rises up to the same note it started with. This foreshadows Jeremy’s fate - that he will eventually overcome the SQUIP and that he still has it in him to do so. Man, let me just point out how amazing that last belt is - it lasts for a full 15 seconds in a really high range and takes a LOT of control to bring it back up to the high B without breaking. This song really was written for Will Roland - his voice can pull it off seamlessly, but other actors and understudies have had to find workarounds. No disrespect to them, it’s a damn hard song and it kicks ass all the way through. Scott Folan apparently had trouble with it too, but on the day I happened to see him, he pulled it off without breaking, so props to him!

Overall, Loser Geek Whatever is my favourite song in Be More Chill and not just for its sentimental value to myself. It’s a genuinely deep, complex piece that earned every second of its six minutes. Loser Geek Whatever is definitely the missing piece the show needed - not only is it Jeremy’s solo song, it’s also his “I Want” song and, in a way, his 11 o’clock number all in one, as he’s having a major epiphany after going on a journey, albeit only half of one. It’s easy to see why Joe Iconis dubbed this his anti-Defying Gravity, but it’s also easy to draw parallels to No Good Deed - how both Jeremy and Elphaba vow to become something that society is forcing upon them rather than what they are, even if that society’s will is objectively worse for them. Loser Geek Whatever deserves a thousand times the recognition it has and I still wonder to this day what the fandom reaction would’ve been if it had been in the original soundtrack.

So, that was it. I’m not sorry it was this long.

TL;DR: Loser Geek Whatever is wonderful and anyone who doesn’t think so is wrong.

#be more chill #loser geek whatever #joe iconis #will roland #be more chill meta #music theory #broadway be more chill #be more chill 2.0 #be more chill 3.0 #musical theatre theory #tw depression #jeremy heere #michael mell #be more chill analysis #tw emotional abuse #trans jeremy heere

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iovnyu · 4 years ago

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not prepared.

SUMMARY. you heard stories of past queens who had to deal with the suffering and pain through trials. now, you are doubting your skills and strengths after being put under tests to determine who can be queen. these trials do not guarantee that you will come out alive, but with the help of kings from other kingdoms – you might have a chance.

genre. prince! au, strangers to friends to lovers! au, angst, maybe fluff

pairing. [??] x female reader

word count. 1.7k

warnings. aggressive language? others tba

disclaimer. please know that the way the story perceives the members does not mean it is how they act like in real life. if you find any mistakes or points in the story that is not clear, please let me know and i will fix it right away.

Royals don’t have it easy, Y/N learned that the hard way growing up. It took her awhile for her to fully grasp the situation that was being handed to her. She didn’t get why she had to compete with other girls for the crown. Granted, her father is a king of one of the biggest kingdoms but Y/N would rather worry about what she was going to eat tomorrow than fight more capable girls her age for some title.

Her father, on the other hand, thought differently. This whole competition for the crown was the sole reason he wanted his wife to have a girl. Having a son would be great but if he had a daughter, it would fall in his favor. He wanted his daughter to become the next queen so he can have a bigger advantage over the other kingdoms. When he heard that his wife gave birth to a girl, he had never thought of anything else. To Y/N, he only cared about the title and the worth of others. Their personality? Completely useless to him, it was at the bottom of the list.

It shocked Y/N at how calm he was when her mother died. To be fair, he did cry for a day and then shook it off the next day -- immediately arranging plans to get Y/N ready to become queen. It’s been two years since she has left and as every day passes, Y/N feels as though her father never really loved her mother. It was something she didn’t question about -- love isn’t real, simple as that.

Although, she did fantasize about her future with a dashing prince. They would get a nice castle somewhere on the outskirts of the kingdom, have a lovely British Shorthair cat, and live happily ever after with him. This was quite impossible as her dad banned her from meeting other people outside of the castle. She is strictly ordered to do tasks around the palace and to never talk to anyone that she doesn’t know.

Y/N only talked to the maids and chefs that she occasionally saw walking the halls though, she never had a proper conversation with them since they had more important things to do. The one time she did hold a conversation was with one of the guards that stood outside guarding the castle. You can even say Y/N’s life is miserable and she would agree.

If you are wondering how Y/N was schooled if she has never talked to anyone else, she was homeschooled. Her mother had taught her everything she needs to know. After she had died, Y/N had to ask the maids behind her father’s back to get ahold of school books. She quickly found out that her mother had taught her different lessons compared to those in books. Her mother taught more useful and reasonable things in life and the books were little to no purpose for daily life.

“Princess Y/N, do you happen to be awake?” A deep voice said from outside of Y/N’s door. Whirling around in her undergarments, she walked to her dull-looking door. Opening a tiny crack, she peaked her head out, looking at who this voice belonged to as she knew it wasn’t her father. She was met with a young-looking face who showed no expression. “Who are you?” She asked, closing the door a little more in case she was revealing herself too much for this stranger.

“Lee Heeseung. Prince Heeseung, miss.” He said with a shy but firm voice. His voice sounded like how he looked -- attractive. Y/N didn’t notice how long she was staring at him in silence until he cleared his throat waiting for a response. “Oh, I am almost ready. Please wait in the dining area, I will meet you there when I am done, Prince.” She responded, gesturing over to where the hallway leads into the dining room.

Prince Heeseung bowed to her and made his way down the hallway. It was already confusing trying to find Princess Y/N’s room as the castle had many corridors, some of them even being dead ends. He admired the designs that were painted on the wall, it had looked like the castle never had a speck of dirt on them.

He had to pass by many rooms to get to the dining room -- or one that looked like a place where people eat. This room though, had looked dull, like no one bothered to repaint the chipping walls or refurbish the worn-out table that had tiny drawings on them. Heeseung tried his best not to let his curiosity get to him and sat down on a chair that was placed at one of the ends of the table.

Y/N on the other hand was embarrassed as to why she thought it was a good idea to open her door in no clothes. She has never done that before so why, out of all days, it had to be today that she opened her door with her undergarments?

She tried her best not to think about it as she got dressed in the lovely dress that was ready for her on her dresser. It wasn’t one of her long dresses but rather more of a short and comfortable one that she can breathe in. She lightly patted her hair down and walked out of her room and into the hallway where the guards stood, waiting for her. Y/N smiled at them, she suspected that her dad wanted them to watch over what she and Heeseung will talk about and to make sure Heeseung doesn’t try anything.

“Good Morning, Princess Y/N. How did you sleep?” One of the guards asked her. It was a shame Y/N wasn’t allowed to know the guards’ names at all so, she assigned them random names. The guards that were walking with her are Guard Eagle and Guard Carrot -- Eagle was because he always watched Y/N’s moves everywhere she went and Carrot is because he would always eat her vegetables when she was little. It was really bad names, but they have grown accustomed to Y/N calling them random things.

“I slept well, I could have slept better though,” Y/N said, looking at Guard Eagle. “How was your sleep?” She asked both guards who shrugged and continued to navigate their way through the hallways behind Y/N. They made it to the dining area where Heeseung sat awkwardly in one of the chairs, waiting for Y/N.

“Sorry, I was not able to introduce myself properly,” Y/N said, smiling softly at the Prince in front of her. “Princess Y/N, as you already know.” She bowed.

Heeseung was in awe with her beauty, her smile was one of the most angelic thing he has ever seen. He didn’t notice how long he was staring until one of the guards that stood behind Y/N coughed. “Oh! Right, Uhm.” He got up from the chair and walked to Y/N. “Prince Heeseung of Minbury Kingdom -- it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Heeseung grabbed her hand and gently laid a kiss on the back of her hand. He turned to the guards and bowed to them too, in return they gave him a smug look.

“My father had told me you are just meeting me today, is that correct?” Y/N asked, examining him. Now that he was standing in front of her, she was able to see him more clearly -- noting that he was an attractive gentleman and had a very fancy attire considering that he was just here to meet you. Heeseung nodded, “Yes. I am just here to say a brief hello and I will be on my way.”

Y/N nodded back, giving him a small smile and pointing to one of the chairs. “Please, sit.” She pulled a chair back, waiting for him to take a seat. “Did you need any water? Or some food?” She asked, looking for the maids that were usually somewhere in the room -- in which they were nowhere to be found.

“Oh, no thank yo-,” Before Heeseung could answer, Y/N made her way to the kitchen, still no sign of the maids. She frowned and started looking around. She had found soup in a pot that had looked like it was just freshly made and some bread that was laying out next to the pot. Y/N prepared two bowls of soup and a plate of bread loaves along with two glasses of water. Juggling the tray that held the food and drinks, she wondered how the maids would always do this for every meal.

“Sorry, it looks unprepared. I couldn’t find any maids to help me.” Y/N frowned, setting the table with the utensils before placing a bowl in front of Heeseung -- who gladly accepted. “It is okay. It is the thought that counts.” He said, smiling at her. If Y/N had a counter to record how many times her heart has fluttered, it would have been in the twenties right now.

She placed a bowl in her usual seat and sat down, handing Heeseung a piece of bread. “That is a unique saying, I have never heard of that before,” Y/N said as she ripped off the end of the bread and eating the soft parts of it. It was a habit she has always done since she was little, no matter how many times her father has scolded her for doing so, she did it all the time. Her father would tell her it wasn’t lady-like to pick at her food and that no prince would want a princess who eats like an ogre.

"My mother says that every time I would draw on the walls.” Heeseung laughed, recalling how his mother would try her best not to scream at him because he was just a young child who just wanted to have a bigger canvas to draw on.

The whole encounter with Heeseung felt like a blur to Y/N as they made conversation over random things, forgetting that they were just supposed to meet. Although it was only her first time meeting him, Y/N felt happy to have Heeseung’s company. She got to finally talk to someone else that wasn’t the maids or the guards, and she liked that. All she can do now is to hope her other trainers are the same.

next -> coming soon.

previous -> the prologue.

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schrijverr · 3 years ago

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Surprise Hit

On a con Eliot is recognized by someone who has a hit on him and has to run.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: mentions of some mafia dealings

~~~~~~~~~~~

The con went to shit.

This happened often enough with a mark not making the expected choice, a firewall taking longer to crack than anticipated or someone showing up that was not supposed to. It was normal, however the way it went to shit this time was unique. “Nate, I got a problem,” Eliot announced.

“What is it?” Nate asked over the coms. It was an integral part of the plan that Eliot talked to their mark, John Fernsby, and convinced him to meet with Sophie. Nate would have done it, but he had already been the one to go in and convince the billionaire that thebusiness was worth investing in and Hardison was needed to help Parker into the safe. It had to be Eliot.

But Eliot said there was a problem, which was bad. However, it was about to get worse when Eliot answered: “He’s talking with a foreign dignitary, but I know he isn’t. That’s Mikhail Volkov, Russian mob. He has a hit out on me.”

“The fuck, man,” Hardison replied.

“I didn’t pick it either, okay,” Eliot hissed back. “But if he sees me, we’re fucked. Well, I’m fucked and someone has to take my part in the con.”

Hardison had pulled up the camera feed of the gala and watched how Eliot turned away from the mark and tried to leave them room without pulling any attention to himself. He almost managed too, were it not for a serenade band coming in right as he was near the exit.

It was such a stupid little thing that they couldn't have predicted and it was so incredibly ill-timed that Eliot had no room to come up with something. Mikhail turned to the band and saw Eliot, his brow furrowed and he yelled: “Stop that man!” as Eliot started to sprint, multiple people now on his trail.

He pushed over furniture behind him and swerved while a few bullets started to fly around his head, dangerously close. In his ear Hardison was giving him directions to Lucille, but he knew he could not return to the team. Not right now.

The Russian mob was not known for their leniency and if they thought he had people he worked with, then they would only target them as well. No, he had to go into hiding on his own and return to them later, when he could shake off his pursuers. In his ear he heard Hardison rant at him as he took the wrong turn, but Eliot didn’t care. He had a plan.

On the street it was easier to disappear, though he got many looks from people as they cleared the way for him while he ran like a madman. There were a few screams when the Russians appeared behind him with guns.

If it were a normal day and he was on his own, he would have stayed to fight them, but he was wearing a suit he couldn't easily fight in and Sophie and Parker had still been in the building, he couldn't risk them for something stupid he’d done in the past. And when he was outside, he didn’t have the surprise advantage or the closeness to take on that many guys with guns.

So, he ran.

His lungs were burning in his chest and his legs would be jelly were it not for the fact that he regularly ran long tracks in case he got in this exact situation.

It took a while, but the bullets stopped flying around his head and he couldn't hear any footsteps behind him anymore. He took a moment to focus on the chatter over the coms. His brain hadn’t heardany of the key words to get his attention in the background, so he assumed it was all fine.

“Eliot, Eliot, are you listening to me?” That was Nate.

“I’m here,” he grunted, checking in the alley if there was anyone still following, before starting to climb the fire escape.

“What are you doing? Hardison’s GPS says you’re nowhere near the hotel. We need to regroup and figure out our next move,” Nate said as Sophie asked: “Are you okay, Eliot?”

He replied: “I’m fine, Sophie. Just didn’t want to lead a group of armed mobster to our hotel room when their goal is to kill me and all my associates.”

“They’re coming to kill us?” Hardison’s squeaky voice came through the speaker.

“Not if they don’t know I’m with you,” Eliot assured him, “which is why I’m not at the hotel right now. I think I’ve shaken them off, but just in case I’m taking a long way round. Probably won’t come through the doors.”

Thenhe tuned them out again. It might be rude and he heard they were still asking him all sorts of questions, but he wasn’t in the mood to answer. He had other things to focus on and the last thing he wanted was to tell them why there was a hit on his head from this particular mobster.

Going through the city over the roof, he saw a few familiar stances and haircuts stationed at public places where he would hide, as well as at the hotels and he knew he had made the right decision to take this route.

Mentally he was trying to figure out why Mikhail was here of all places talking with their mark. It could be that he was laundering money and their mark having a connection with the mob could both help and be an issue. He could get into witness protection in turn for information, but it was also proof that his business wasn’t clean, even if they had wanted to get him for the stealing of company funds that screwed over his employees’ safety.

But that was not his business to think about, but Nate’s. He would wait for what the man had to say about this development, but in order to do that, he needed to get back to the hotel.

There were also “guards” at the entrance of their hotel, but the team was only on the fourth floor and while they weren’t close to the fire escape, Eliot could get up high and then go side wards over the ridge to their window.

He gave Hardison a heart attack when he got at the window. They hadn’t left it open, much to his chagrin, but were luckily there to open it for him and it was better not to have a weakness in the defense, so he couldn't blame them.

“What the hell, man,” Hardison said. “Give someone a warning before you go around showing up in front of the window. Did you even have safety or something? We’re up high. You could have fallen to your death, Eliot.”

“Yeah and if I had gone through the front door, I would have been shot,” he pointed out tiredly from where he was lying on the floor.

Parker was looking out the window and smiled: “Oeh, that’s a good climbing ridge indeed.”

“Woman!” Hardison exclaimed, while Eliot said: “We could do without the attention to our room, Parker, maybe next time.” She looked sad and glanced over one more time, before closing the window with a pout.

“Care to explain what happened?” Nate asked as he leaned over him. He did that face where he attempted innocence, but failed.

“Got recognized by someone who’s sort of actively trying to kill me,” Eliot replied with what they already knew.

“Sort of actively?” Sophie asked and Eliot was glad he could explain something not that bad to them instead of the other stuff. “Yeah, there’s a difference between saying, ‘hey if you manage to kill this person and prove it you get money,’ and ‘I am hiring you to kill this person within a time frame.’ Mikhail is the former. If I die, he would be happy, but he’s not putting extra resources in finding me and eliminating me.”

“And why would be be happy if you’re dead?” Fucking Nate always sticking his nose everywhere.

“I met him once,” Eliot wasn’t giving him shit.

“Would I be correct in assuming that the meeting ended in a loss on his end?” Nate replied.

“Maybe.” He was neither confirming or denying, not if there was no explicit reason. He hadn’t felt bad about the blow to Mikhail’s organization. It hadn’t been the worst he’d done and Mikhail had a smuggling ring of sex workers and that had been awful to find.

“Okay, so we know Fernsby has connections to the Russian mob,” Nate thought out loud. “So, he’s not only stealing money from his employees, but laundering dirty money as well. If we can tie those together then we’re set.”

“Mikhail has a weakness for brunettes,” Eliot informed him, not telling him how he got that tidbit of knowledge. “He also likes gambling.”

Nate got a glint in his eye as he looked to Sophie, who smiled back. Of course those two would have a plan without needing to communicate.

“You’re out for the rest of the con,” Nate told him. “Can’t have you risk the entire thing if you’re recognized.”

“What? No!” Eliot sat up. “I need to be there to have your back. With the Russians it’s only going to get more dangerous. I’m not leaving you to your fate with those people, they’re dangerous, Nate. This isn’t just some cushy billionaire anymore.”

“And what if he gets suspicious of Sophie because of you, what will you do then, Eliot?” Nate shot back. “I’m not saying you need to stay here, but I am saying you need to keep out of sight. You’re with Hardison in Lucille.”

Eliot wanted to protest, wanted to be closer to the danger in case it went to shit, he wanted to be there when a mistake from his past came back, but he couldn't argue with Nate’s logic and sometimes he hated that about the man.

So, he found himself watching the screens in Lucille as Sophie tried to get Mikhail to make a gamble on her company, to ditch Fernsby, because he was doing it without him and leaving him out of the profits.

He was filled with jittery energy, but so far so good.

“Hey, Eliot,” Hardison opened. “What’s it like, you know, to have a hit on your head? I mean, I’m wanted in some countries, but that’s just boring government stuff, not actual people, like persons, wanting me dead personally, you know.”

“Are you really asking me what it’s like when someone wants you killed?” Eliot asked him.

“I guess,” Hardison shrugged, trying not to look like he wanted to know the answer and failing miserably.

“It’s not that different from being wanted by the government, I suppose,” Eliot finally answered, surprising Hardison. “You just gotta watch out for different things and hope no one is desperate enough for cash to go after you. I have a good enough reputation that hardly anyone tries, but I’ve had periods where I had multiple people on my trail across a dozen countries. It was exhausting, but I get it. Kill me and you can make a lot of people with a lot of money happy.”

“Wait, hold on, reverse and repeat,” Hardison said. “A lot of people?”

“Yeah,” Eliot replied, didn’t Hardison know this? “I got more than one hit on my head. I think it’s five. Used to be six, but one of them died and the bounty fell through. Though I never knew if that one English guy put one on my head as well. And of course, the countries, but those are always lazy about it, so I don’t worrry too much about those.”

“What the fuck, man.”

Eliot didn’t see the big deal. He had done a lot to deserve it and he had learned to live with it. He hadalways kept one eye open anyway.

He focused back on the screen, despite the hiccup earlier with him, the con ran smoothly on its new course and Sophie was phenomenal as he pitted the two guys against one another, making them sell each other out in the end.

Nate was there with the police and both were arrested with illegal cash on their hands and a lot of bank records detailing their dirty schemes as well as showing the abysmal circumstances of the workers that had gone unaddressed in favor of laundering money.

Later when they were sitting in the bar, Nate turned to him and asked: “Any more of that we should be worried about?”

Before Eliot could answer, Hardison had jumped in: “Apparently between five and six more times.”

“No, between four and five,” Eliot corrected. “Mikhail is no longer on the list, but honestly we couldn't have predicted this and there are too many bad guys I’ve known, double crossed, worked for or left that are still out there. We can’t account for all of them. I’ll try to be aware of which marks could have ties to other’s I’ve known, but you don’t get to be good in my line of work without enemies.”

Nate wanted to say something else, but Sophie was quicker. “I’m not keeping track of all the people I have grifted either, Nate,” she said. “We all have a past and you’re not harping me about that or Parker on all she’s stolen. Just because Eliot’s past is a bit different, doesn’t mean we can treat it differently in our team.”

Eliot didn’t fully agree with the comparison. His enemies we’re not the same and one of them coming back would be worse than it was for others.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to disagree with her. Not right now.

He thought of all the people he killed, all the families he’d left behind with one member less. He thought of Moreau and the horrible things he’d done for that man. He thought of the US Army that had turned him into a killer and set him loose on foreign soil for the first time.

And he thought of his team. Of how glad he was he knew them and how they made him better and didn’t force him to be a person he hated. How much they meant to him and how badly he didn’t want to loose that.

So he stayed quiet and let Sophie defend him, hoping his past would not come back like that again.

A/N:

Sorry that the con is kinda vague, I only had the ‘the mark/someone there has a hit on Eliot and he needs to run’ and no clear plan on running the con in the background. Hope it was still enjoyable :D

#RR writing #leverage #leverage tv #eliot spencer #nate ford #sophie devereaux #parker #leverage parker #alec hardison

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katierosefun · 4 years ago

Text

back on my w: two worlds bullshit but also make it star wars and obi-wan and anakin angst, because in typical caroline fashion, i’ve wondered about like. au? au. like, lowkey a canon divergence but also not a canon divergence au, i don’t really know how to describe it, but it’s really fucking meta--

anyways. thoughts under the cut, because i don’t want to burden anyone with ‘caroline what are you talking about why don’t you just write/don’t you have things to do’ shhhHHHHhh at this point i’m just a miserable pile of half-written docs and ideas but let me word-vomit for a second (but also please do indulge me in this because i need to scream and i lowkey am into this idea but also i have too many things to write but also)

okay, so i’ve already rambled a bit about w: two worlds, but basically, the actual kdrama’s premise is that a young woman accidentally is dragged into the world of the comic/webtoon her father writes--essentially, this young woman saves the comic protagonist’s life, and she keeps accidentally slipping into the world, and it’s just. it’s so fucking meta and so fucking good and so fucking smart, and even though i think this is the kind of story that you.....can’t really mimic just because of how fucking smart and unique it is, it still got me thinking about star wars but make it “w” and uh--

disclaimer: i don’t think i’d ever actually write this because it would be so niche and also so incredibly convoluted, idk man i’m just kinda going off here:

- so, the events of rots do happen. (note how i said that this is still slight canon-divergence au but also not? yeah, it’s about to get super complicated)

- and of course, at this point, the galaxy like....no one except like obi-wan and yoda and bail actually know that darth vader is anakin, right? i think that’s what the situation is?

- anyways, i think that’s where the story picks up: obi-wan’s in the middle-of-nowhere tatooine, and no one knows where/what the fuck happened to anakin skywalker, but we know that anakin skywalker was a pretty well-respected/public figure (because war propagandaaaaa)

- anyways, thinking about obi-wan kenobi coming into town one day and realizing that people are shadily passing around a data pad to look at hey, this story just updated!!! this story just updated, and obi-wan realizes that there’s a rebelling artist somewhere out in the galaxy making comics about a young man who just so happens to Look Like and Act Like and also is named Anakin Skywalker, except he’s not a jedi, he’s just a regular guy making an honest living in the galaxy (and also on the hunt to avenge his friends’ and his family’s mysterious deaths)

- i know, really fucking meta at this point

- things are harmless enough: obi-wan tries to ignore this comic’s existence (if anything, he’s a little insulted by it because how dare you use his face and his name and turn it into...whatever this is), but like.

- the thing is, grief is a funny thing, and sometimes you start to look for your person everywhere.

- so obi-wan winds up reading along. he reads, and sometimes he thinks that things are a little too eerie--like, apparently, obi-wan is one of the people who was mysteriously killed / anakin’s mom was mysteriously killed / the dialogue is way too fucking real--

- anyways, the comic updates one day: obi-wan sees that the author has somehow decided to basically almost kill off anakin--bleeding out in the middle of nowhere, and obi-wan just watches and it’s painful because this isn’t actually anakin, this is just a comic character--

- and that’s when obi-wan gets pulled in.

- obi-wan kenobi--our obi-wan kenobi--staring at this anakin skywalker-but-not-really-anakin-skywalker, who is bleeding out at his feet--

- obi-wan saves anakin’s life because what else is he gonna do, it doesn’t matter if this guy is a comic book character or not--he’s still going to save this person who has his best friend’s face

- obi-wan gets transported back into his world. he looks down at the comic to find a drawing of himself saving the comic-anakin and promptly freaks tf out because that just happened why did that happen how the fuck did that happen

- anyways, lots of other things happen. obi-wan now sometimes gets randomly pulled into this comic, and the comic-anakin skywalker is freaking out a little too because he’s like “you look exactly like my best friend, only my best friend was murdered”. and our obi-wan’s just like “yeah. i know the feeling--”

- meanwhile, somewhere on the other side of the galaxy, imagine darth vader/anakin walking past a bunch of stormtroopers/former clone troopers and discovering this comic (lol this is kinda funny but also kinda not, because vader’s going to be like “find this artist and kill them”)

- but who is the artist? who is the author? do we know? (we do not. at least, not right away.)

- but anyways, back to obi-wan and comic-anakin: holy shit, okay, it seems like i’m getting a little invested now oh no, but anyways, in the comic, obi-wan still meets others: he meets a comic-padme (who is Not Married to comic anakin but there’s obviously some flirting there), and he meets a comic-ahsoka and a comic-rex, and it’s utterly painful for obi-wan because. because in this world. in this world, things are kind of okay.

- comic-anakin still doesn’t know where obi-wan’s come from though--comic-anakin doesn’t know that he’s just a comic character. (which makes for Bad Realizations later.)

- uh now there are other details i want to work out and an Actual Storyline in the process here in this what started as a joke to now what is turning into a brainstorm, but like--

- the actual plot? idk probably something to do with comic-anakin slowly realizing that he is. actually. just some grieving author’s fantasy / darth vader in real-time tracking down obi-wan and whoever tf is writing this comic / obi-wan constantly being yanked into this world against his will.

- angst? so much angst.

- just thinking about how our obi-wan decides to help comic-anakin.....comic-anakin being like “who are you?” / obi-wan: “me? i’m someone who wants you to have a happy ending. at least in this life. in this world.” / comic-anakin: ???

- kind of a bittersweet ending ngl--

- comic-anakin learns the truth: everything, from the fact that he. he is but someone’s imagination, to the fact that obi-wan comes from the Real World and that the Anakin Skywalker of the Real World turns into a villain/is the real killer of everyone he’s ever loved.

- sad. so sad.

- but ends with comic-anakin giving our obi-wan one last hug. (”i’m sorry that you never got to save your anakin.” / obi-wan trying really, really, really hard not to cry because a part of him doesn’t want to leave this world. this world where everyone’s safe and alive, but he has to go. in the end, he always has to go.)

- as obi-wan leaves, comic-anakin smiles at him. (”i’m someone who’s rooting for you to have a happy ending.”)

- anyways. uh. oh god.

#caroline talks #im sorry this got out of hand #but i have so many thoughts now #what the ever-loving--#i am so sorry to everyone who's just like #'caroline. are you actually going to write these.'#i AM #i WILL #i know i have way too many stories going on right now #i am so sorry #rip summer 2020 caroline at least was more organized #i swear i have a plan

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robininthelabyrinth · 5 years ago

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If you're still accepting prompts - Nie Huaisang/Jiang Cheng. Featuring: The seduction of Jiang Cheng by Nee Huaisang, the obscurest of weird courting practices unique to both sects, and Wei Wuixiang being rendered temporarily speechless.

Jiang Sect

“So, we’re on a boat,” Nie Huaisang said.

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said. “A boat ride is a traditional part of the engagement process for the Jiang sect.”

“I get that,” Nie Huaisang said. “Do we need to do anything on the boat?”

Jiang Cheng scowled at him. It was his ‘confusion’ scowl, though, so Nie Huaisang didn’t take it personally. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Nie Huaisang said. “Do we need to – do anything? Anything in specific? Anything at all?”

Jiang Cheng was still scowling.

“Perhaps assume a particular position –”

“Nie Huaisang!”

“As part of my courtship of you –”

“You’re courting me, now?” Nie Huaisang asked, smiling behind his fan. “Really? And here I was, thinking I was doing all the work.”

“Will you shut up and let me finish this.”

Nie Huaisang waved a hand permissively.

“As part of – as part of the courtship process – I present to you a lotus flower, which I have grown myself. It is a symbol that I have considered our relationship at length, tending to it over time, letting it bud and grow as a natural –”

“It’s dead.”

“I know it’s dead. That’s not the point.”

“Our relationship metaphor is dead and that’s not the point?”

“It’s not a metaphor for our relationship.”

“What was that about budding and growing and –”

“Shut up. The words are traditional. I stick a seed in the ground, wait the appropriate number of days, and give it to you – I did all that.”

Nie Huaisang poked the plant with his fan. “Did you water it?”

“It lives in a pond.”

“Jiang Cheng. Did you water it?”

“Listen, I’ve been busy –”

“A grand gesture,” Nie Huaisang said. “I think I’m scared.”

Jiang Cheng, by now somewhat inured to him, rolled his eyes.

“No, really,” Nie Huaisang persisted. “I’m scared. Terrified. Deeply worried. From the way you’ve described it, you have to make a grand gesture of your affection to, what, show off your spontaneous, adventurous spirit?”

“Basically.”

“You don’t have one. No, don’t give me that look, you don’t. You’re excellent in many ways, I wouldn’t be agreeing to marry you if I didn’t think so, but spontaneity gives you anxiety and anxiety gives you hives and makes you hit things. This seems like a bad idea.”

“It’s fine,” Jiang Cheng said. “I told Wei Wuxian to come up with something.”

“Jiang Cheng,” Nie Huaisang said. “You needed to come up with a great, big, explosive, stupid way to demonstrate affection…and you asked Wei Wuxian?”

“…I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Nie Sect

“Now that we’ve gone on a hunt together –”

“Did that count?” Jiang Cheng asked. “I’m pretty sure we mostly just went walking through a forest. And then we went to a town to eat at a restaurant.”

“Now that we’ve obtained sustenance together –”

“You mean buying skewers from the street stall earlier? Or putting in our order at this restaurant?”

“Jiang Cheng.”

“What?”

“I’m trying to fulfil the rules of my sect here.”

Jiang Cheng crossed his arms and smothered a smirk. “Really? I’m pretty sure the rule said something about you needing to prepare food for me from something you personally tracked down.”

“So what? I tracked down a perfectly nice restaurant.”

“You didn’t prepare the food.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s hot pot. I’m doing plenty of preparation.”

“Your sect are butchers,” Jiang Cheng said smugly. This was totally making up for the fiasco Wei Wuxian had put together. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to catch something and chop it up for me.”

Nie Huaisang glared at him. “Fine. You want me to personally kill something for you?”

His hand shot out, fan snapping down on the surface of the table.

“You’re welcome.”

Jiang Cheng looked down.

“Somehow,” he said, his voice strangled as he tried to figure out if he was angry or about to start laughing. “I don’t think flies are what your ancestors had in mind.”

“I don’t think this is necessary,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Of course it is,” Nie Huaisang said. “It’s in the rules.”

“Yes, but. You know. Under the circumstances, maybe we could – skip it?”

“We didn’t skip any of the other steps,” Nie Huaisang pointed out. “This’ll be fine.”

“Nie Huaisang.”

“What?”

“You know I respect you very much and consider you to be very fearsome, especially after what happened with Jin Guangyao. So I don’t want you to take offense or think I’m putting you down in any way. But…”

“But what?”

“You don’t have any martial abilities with the saber to show off.”

Nie Huaisang lifted his saber and immediately staggered a few steps from the unfamiliar weight. “No,” he said. “I don’t. But the rule is ‘display your martial abilities’, not ‘display good martial abilities’. You just have to watch me go through a few routines.”

“You’re going to cut off your own feet,” Jiang Cheng gloomily predicted. “Do I have to watch?”

“Yes. It’s mandatory. Don’t worry, it may have been ten years, but I still remember the basics.”

“Do you?”

“Of course! Sharp part goes in the other person.”

Jiang Cheng covered his eyes and whimpered.

“Why did that happen,” Jiang Cheng said. It wasn’t a question. “Why. Why did I have to endure that.”

“Nie sect tradition,” Nie Huaisang said apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Did they think we – that we didn’t know – we’re both fully grown adults.”

“My sect is known for having people who lose control of their tempers very easily,” Nie Huaisang said. “It’s traditional to teach incoming brides – yes, I know, we never agreed who was marrying in, but put that aside for the time being – to teach prospective new spouses about how to handle that.”

“In bed.”

“Yes. In bed. Outside of bed, the recommended approach is ‘flee if they’ve got a sword’ or ‘kick really hard until they stop moving’.”

“Don’t make me laugh, I’m still processing the horror that I was just subjected to. There were pictures, Huaisang. Charts. Why were there charts?”

“Some of those pictures were pretty nice, actually,” Nie Huaisang mused. “I should get copies to add to my lending library.”

“I feel like using traditional secret Nie sect bride teachings in your porn distribution network is wrong.”

“You make it sound so tawdry. It wasn’t even anything that extreme! Just a few helpful tips with rope. And chains. And various other objects –”

“We’re never talking about this ever again.”

“The worst part is, I’m pretty sure the ancestor that instituted this rule was making a joke,” Nie Huaisang said. “And his heir continued it entirely out of spite, with every subsequent sect leader adding their own additional ridiculousness in order to make the next generation suffer as they were forced to suffer. That’s why there’s quite so much, uh…”

“Innovation?”

“Good word.”

“Well, it was that or ‘horrifying perversities’, and the latter seemed a little judgmental.”

Extra: Meishan Yu

“No. Nope. No way. This has gone too far!”

“What are you whining about?” Jiang Cheng asked, hands across his chest and scowl on his face. “It’s just another stupid ritual. We’ve done a dozen or more by now. What’s the matter with this one?”

“I can accept greeting the dawn as it breaks over the mountains,” Nie Huaisang said through gritted teeth. “Uncomfortable as that might be. I can even accept having to spend the night before in your mother’s clan’s miserable little love nest –”

“It’s a perfectly nice structure. The fact that it’s built into a cave doesn’t make it miserable, and it’s not a love nest.”

“It’s where newlyweds spend a night together; it’s a love nest.”

“Fine. What’s the problem, then?”

“The problem? The problem?! The problem is that nowhere in that description –” Nie Huaisang jabbed at Jiang Cheng with his fan; Jiang Cheng dodged. That fan could be pretty pointy. “Nowhere in that description does it say anything, anything at all, about having to deal with a giant nest of spiders!”

“It’s not that many spiders, only a few dozen –”

“No!”

“You only have to leave them a little bit of food –”

“I am not feeding any spiders anything!”

“It’s good luck!”

“The answer is still no!”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #my fic #my fics #hamelin-born #wtf happened with the read-more?

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janiedean · 4 years ago

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Here's an idea for you: An Eros/Psyque AU ft. Jaime as Eros and Brienne as Psyque. Short drabble. Yours truly, Cracktastic.

I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN MAKE IT SHORT BUT LET'S SEE TO KICK THIS OFF also... I might have slightly thrown a spin on this for reasons but I hope you enjoy the scifi take because it wanted to happen like that u__u

"Will you ever let me look at you?"

I wish I could, Jaime thinks, and says nothing in the darkness surrounding them.

Oh, he can see her. The advantages of having enhanced eyes in comparison to her species, even if they look the same, technically.

He knows she can't see him.

"I can't," he says, wishing he could bring himself to stand up and leave their - her bedroom.

"And what's so bad about you? Your sister certainly isn't hideous and she can't shut up about how I'm only alive because of your useless charitable self, and where I come from I'm hideous, so however you look like... I really don't care. And I'd like to say thank you to your face. It's - it's not because you hate how I look, right?"

She sounds so earnest.

Like she means it.

"I think that I made clear I don't," he answers, and she blushes at once, he can feel her cheeks heating in the darkness, and he just wishes he could see them in proper light, too -

And he just can't say yes.

Thing is, she was supposedly a scientist, on the planet she comes from. It was his father's ship destroying hers and killing everyone else on it because they don't - they don't do others coming to their planet. They've stayed hidden since forever and no one is interested in contacting any other, as much as he disagrees, because Westeros is a shit planet, but that's not even the point.

The point is that she hadn't died in the shipwreck, merely passed out, and Cersei just wanted him to shoot her on sight, but - but after their falling out, after he realized she didn't care for him one whim, he refused. And no one else wanted the job - cowards, all of them - and... well. It had taken him a while of haggling with both Cersei and his father to reach a deal - what is that, Jaime, want a pet alien for yourself because you miss me that much? What would you do in order to save that worthless human? Marry her? Spare me, she had said, and Jaime had said well try me, and -

Well.

The poor girl woke up married to someone from another planet, unable to leave the part of the house he resides in, and she can't look at him. The point is that no other species in this universe is supposed to know us, Jaime, his father had said, his voice cold as ice. If she never lays eyes on you then you may keep her, if not she dies. Then it turns out that Cersei had visited her, and Jaime has no idea what bullshit excuse she came up with to justify it that wouldn't be worth for him, but.

But everyone - his father, the fucking defense council, whatever - that no, she couldn't see him.

Thing is, he had explained her the situation, the first time. He also apologized for it. She had thanked him. Nothing else happened. Then he came to visit again because he wanted to know where she came from, and she started talking, and -

And things happened.

He doesn't know why on her planet she'd be considered hideous. He thinks she's unique, for that matter - that tall, with all those muscles, those pretty blue eyes staring straight into your soul, and so what if her hair looks like straw and she has freckles everywhere over her face and she doesn't look exactly feminine? He likes her. He also likes how her thighs feel around him when she rides him in the dark every other night, and how prettily she moans when they fuck, and - and sex with her is nowhere like sex with Cersei. For one he feels like she actually wants him and she can't look at him the way Cersei did, so intently and almost with envy, and he wishes he never realized that, but. But.

"Did my sister say that?" He adds when she says nothing in return.

"Yes," Brienne says, "and from what I hear and what you said, you're far from useless. And - I value kindness in people, and even if you did this just to pay me a favor I would... take it into account."

He never let her touch his face, figuring it would be the same as looking at him. Maybe he could. Maybe it could be a compromise.

But he doesn't want to risk it.

He - he likes her. Maybe too much. Maybe he has wished he could just steal a ship and go to her planet and leave this miserable place they almost laid to waste with endless resource mining. Maybe -

But he can't, not now.

"You might be one of the two people who thinks I... can be kind," he shrugs. "And I might value that. But I can't. Wish I could, though. And I don't know if I look hideous. I feel like I am most of the time, though," he confesses in the darkness, closing his eyes to at least even things with her. She sighs - is she thinking about when he told her about why he killed the former president of the defense council, when he wanted to nuke the other half of the planet because they were consuming too many resources and no one else would do anything about it?

Maybe she is.

They have treated him like he's a necessary evil since then, though. It's been almost fifteen years. He's tired.

"You're not," she whispers, "I can hear it. And I won't - I won't look at you if you don't want me to. I swear. But I really wish I could."

He nods, leaning closer, kissing her softly, not moving away when her fingers brush against his cheekbone before moving to his hair. He can allow that, he decides. No one ever said that was forbidden, did they?

Thank you, she whispers against his lips before kissing him back.

Her skin is soft under the fingertips of his own left hand, and he wonders if she has suspicions about why he never touched her with the right - it's been scarred with fire since Aerys, you can feel it, he hates it and Cersei hated it when he touched her with it -, but she never said anything else, and she smells in a way no one on this planet smells, none of the scents of the soaps she was given actually stuck to her skin, he wonders if everyone on Earth smells this good or if it's just her, and he doesn't ask, just - just inhales her as he kisses her a bit deeper.

One day.

One day, he'll let her look at him, when he knows they won't have to face repercussions one way of the other.

But not now.

Not now.

#jaime x brienne for ts #my fic #idk what this is and idk if i can expand on it but #not tagging this for reasons but i will in the future #IDK I HOPE YOU LIKE IT MY PAL #otp: i dreamed of you #anti-lannincest #anti-cersei #only slightly less toxic than chernobyl's ruins

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my-brothers-corrupted · 3 years ago

Text

Book Four - Part 10

Anti brings the others to help him get Dapper back from Dark, leading to an all-out battle with a half-dozen different sides.

Tws for imprisonment, physical fighting, and fire.

Part 10 - the Houses in the Woods

Anonymous asked: Trick? Dok? You going down too?

“Come on,” says Trick, taking his hand.

“Can’t they handle it?” asks Dok nervously.

“Bud, come on, I’m not going to let him hurt anybody.”

Dok looks at him as they head down the stairs together. He doesn’t know when Trick made it his responsibility to stop Anti from hurting them, but, proud as he is that Trick is stepping up, he doesn’t think he likes it.

Anonymous asked: Dok, we need your necklaces Trick we need you to be behind your true family. We're nearing the climax, and the heroes will either win or lose against the beast among them.

Trick and Dok exchange glances as they reach the door. Trick’s eyes flicker to the necklaces on Dok’s throat. Dok squeezes his hand, frowning. After all they’ve been through together, Trick can feel the rift in the air between them like a physical force.

We’re not on the same side, he realizes a little numbly.

Dok pulls away from him to check on Red, crouching down beneath Anti timidly and taking Red’s head into his hands, examining the goose bump forming on the back of his skull. Trick goes to Anti, clutching his hands and pulling him back from Red.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says. “Can’t be hitting him.”

Anti’s eyes seem to burn, and not just from Blue’s stolen fire. He clutches Trick to his chest and glares around at his siblings, bitter and violent.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready to go,” he spits at Blue and Red. “We’ll go get Dapper back. If you fail me, maybe I don’t have any use for the two of you little traitors anymore.”

“What am I going to do?” asks Blue, bewildered. “I can barely walk most of the time.”

“Dark’s whole territory is hidden in a mirror dimension, just like that stupid convent where the magicians kept Dok. You have to open the mirror so we can get in.”

“But - I don’t know how,” protests Blue, blinking.

“Well, you better find a way to jog your fucking memory, hadn’t you?” snaps Anti. “Otherwise maybe I’ll have to worm into that head of yours and dig the recollection out.”

Blue and Red exchange looks, alarmed. Anti stalks past them, pulling Trick with him as he goes.

“Whoa, Anti, hold on, I want to talk to - ”

“Dok can have you back when he has those necklaces off his goddamn throat,” spits Anti, yanking him down the hallway.

“But that’s my - ”

“You want to start causing me problems too, Trick?” shouts Anti, whirling on him.

Trick’s lip trembles. He lets Anti lead him back towards their room.

Anonymous asked: You can have your true name soon, Ro. It'll all be okay soon. Hold on for us, Jackie. Losing a small battle doesn't mean you're losing this war.

Red pulls Blue to his feet and they stand together, turning to see Dok padding listlessly after his twin. Blue moves to go after him, but Red pulls him back.

“Do you remember anything about mirror dimensions?” asks Red.

“No,” answers Blue. “No, it’s totally random, out of nowhere. How would I know anything about that?”

“He seems to think you would.”

“Well, if I did, he took the memories from me.”

Red sighs. “Maybe it’s a muscle memory thing? Those are different than memories of actual events or memories of everyday facts. Maybe once we get to the mirror it’ll be an everyday fact thing.”

Blue shakes his head, biting down hard on the nail of his thumb. “He’s going to possess me again if I don’t remember,” he whispers.

“You’ll remember,” Red insists, but even as he says it it doesn’t feel true. If Anti doesn’t know and Blue doesn’t remember, who would?

Anonymous asked: Do you remember the early days Trick? Where you and Dok desperately tried to save the Henrik and Chase within you, having to watch Anti tear the two of you apart day after day. The snake in the rabbit's den. Don't let him steal your heart from your family. Trick, you need to find the Chase within you that you and your twin fought so hard to save in the early days. You need to be their guard, their hero, before Anti kills them or worse.

Trick’s face scrunches up with distress. He pulls on Anti’s hand, looking back at Dok, staring miserably after him from the back of the hallway.

“Let me go with you and the others,” pleads Trick.

“What? No. You could get hurt.”

“So could they!”

“I don’t care about that,” spits Anti, pulling him to his chest. “You’ll stay in your room.”

“I want to be there if something happens to you,” Trick insists, gripping his hands. “I’ll stay back and I’ll cover you with my gun. Anti, you’re upset, you’re getting into a fight, you don’t even trust the others right now. Let me go with you. As a guard. That’s all.”

Anti softens a little, gazing at him. He pushes Trick gently towards the stairs. “I’ll… think about it. Go get dressed. We’ll see.”

Trick obeys, moving to get his gun and some better clothes.

Things are complicated in his head right now, but you’re right about one thing: he needs to be their guard.

scunneredzombie asked: Red, do you remember at all the password that Henrik used when you were sent back in time last time? Or Dok, do you remember anything you were told by the magicians?

Dok frowns, turning back to the others. “I remember… Nina would speak to the mirror? And it would let her step through it. I remember that when you’re in the mirror, it’s like a loop no matter how far you walk.”

Red nods slowly, glancing between the pair of them. “Right. When Dapper and I went back to the - I mean, I remember something. I think we lived in a mirror like that too, one Blue made for us to be safe in. I remember we had to speak to it too to get out. Like a password. ‘Amo, vale.’“

Blue laughs weakly. “That means ‘I love you, goodbye.’ Or almost, anyway.”

“But when Nina left the mirror, she said something in Spanish,” says Dok. “Not ‘te amo’ or anything like that, I don’t think. If it is like a password, I bet it’s unique to every mirror.”

“So how do we figure out the password?”

Anonymous asked: Hey Shep, no idea if you have a camera right now, but you know anything about mirror dimesons by any chance? Just random curiosity!

“Well, I don’t know anything about them, exactly, except that Dark and Wil made one for the houses,” answers Shep.

He’s walking around the forest, still looking for Noodle. Determined.

“It’s cool, I guess. Kind of weird. You can really get stuck in a place like that. And we’re supposed to be really careful with it, because if we break the mirror, you can sever the connection to the real world and lose whatever’s inside.”

Anonymous asked: Is there anything funny Wilford says every time he goes into the mirror? He's always really funny, I'd love to hear more of him! Or something Dark says? I'm really curious about you guys.

“Come on, guys,” laughs Shep. “I know you have to say something to get in there. It’s my home too. I’ll give you a hint… Dark’s told you their password before. Did you think that the only thing it would give you access to was a website? They always wanted you to come and find them. Find the truth, they said.”

Shep steps up onto a log, balancing on one foot. “Oh, yeah. And it’s also a son of a bitch to have to read that out every time I want to go home!”

Anonymous asked: Geez, I'm getting whiplash from your overwhelming favoritism, Anti. Don't want your favorite boy to get hurt? So you'll probably lock him in the room again, all alone and miserable? What will happen to him if you don't come back from Dark's place, uh? If you lose, you're just going to let him pathetically wither away, is that it?

Anti shrugs, glancing at Trick as he walks away. “If I can’t have him, he may as well die.”

Anonymous asked: Lmao sorry Shep, not trying to treat you like you're dumb, we're just used to dealing with a very manipulative demon. I am genuinely curious about you all, and thanks so much for hunting for Noodle, you epic hero man. Big hearts your way!

“I didn’t take any offense, no worries,” answers Shep mildly. “And yeah! Ask me anything anytime. I like talking to you… for a long time I figured nobody was interested and maybe that’s why I got thrown aside. Yes, I’ll look for the cat, and then you’ll have something to remember me by this time!”

Anonymous asked: Jackie, Marvin, this might be a long shot, but when you get to the mirror, try reading out this: Lh3EeEeR9z59YWcUB2b7ViHJ8ALQ637

“What sort of a fucking password?” Blue demands.

“Dok, will you memorize this for us?” asks Red.

Dok turns and reads it over. “Okay, got it.”

“That Dark thing really is cruel if it’s making everybody read that out to get in there,” grins Blue.

Anonymous asked: Oh my god, the heist code is the mirror code? It's so convoluted though! How are you guys not getting locked out with that?

“Wilford never remembers a letter of it,” laughs Shep. “But he can transport in and out anyway. And the twins, they usually come in and out with someone there to help anyway, because they’re developmentally delayed. All the rest of us, we write it in our phones or memorize it. It’s actually only the first eight letters that are the code, so it’s not so bad.

It’s just how Dark does things. They’re obsessive over all of Mark’s projects… they hate him, but they fixate on his videos and stories. When Mark found out they actually gave out the password to our home, he only laughed, though. Dark just wants direct contact with the audience, and Mark will never give it to them, but they try at every turn.”

Shep pauses, glancing at you, the camera tucked into his pocket as he searches for Noodle.

“I don’t care that you know, but just don’t tell Dark you heard anything from me.”

Anonymous asked: Remember guys, it's a tool of gaslighting when your abuser tries to convince you that you're a "traitor" the second you stand up to the abuse. Don't let his manipulation sway your thoughts. You are not traitors. You are escaping an abuser who has pummeled you into dirt for years, years of pain and torture. It is not traitorous to stand up for yourself.

“And he can’t mock me for being autistic like that,” grumbles Red, pushing at his hair. “I struggle with myself enough already.”

“He can’t just take Trick away from me,” agrees Dok, his eyebrows drawn unhappily together. “He’s just being a control freak, punishing me for trying to stay away after he said he would kill me!”

“The only reason Dapper is gone in the first place is because Anti was bargaining with our lives for his and Dark’s entertainment,” adds Blue. “We can’t let this keep happening. He doesn’t really care about anyone but himself. Even his favorites are getting hurt and now Trick is being locked up like Dap. We have to find a way to get all of us away and finish Anti the fuck off.”

Red flinches, still not comfortable with the idea of killing Anti, but Blue and Dok just meet each other’s gazes, steadfast.

Anonymous asked: Jackie, why are you uncomfortable with it, if I can ask? He just confirmed he never loved you, he's threatening to kill all of you, saying Trick is better dead than free, he let Dapper get stolen and taken away from safety and his medicine. He's going to be the death of all of you unless you get to him first. It's looking like it's the only way to save them. Be their warrior, protect them now when they need it most.

Ro turns away from you, a flash of anger in his face. He doesn’t answer.

“Roser,” says Blue.

Red waves him off, stepping out of the room and walking back down the hallway.

Anonymous asked: Also, guys, be very very careful, you can't break the mirror while JJ is in there, or apparently you risk losing everything and everyone inside.

“Oh, fuck, okay,” says Blue, nodding his head. “Yeah, we’ll be real careful. Thanks, guys… I don’t know how this would have worked out without you. I think we’ll go pretty soon. Are we… ready for that? Last words before a big fight?”

He looks at Dok, who looks back, not able to give him a smile. He touches Dok’s head and pulls him to his shoulder, knocking their heads together.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he says.

“You don’t know,” answers Dok frailly.

“I’m going to find a way to get you away from him.”

“We’re still not all on the same page,” murmurs Dok, closing his eyes. “That’s what the magicians told me, again and again. That we have to all be fighting him. And we’re just not, Blue. Trick still loves him. Dapper doesn’t even seem to remember what it’s like to hope for something better. Are the three of us enough to do this?”

Blue sighs, rubbing his shoulder. “We’re just going to see how this turns out, honey.”

Anonymous asked: Trick, sometimes when life is scary, you’ll want to go back to where you understood it. But you can’t go back, whether you want to or not. Understanding will come, but you have to fight tooth and nail for it. Fight through the haze and claim your mind for yourself again.

Trick sits on his bed, staring at Anti as he moves around their room.

Anti plays with his appearance in the mirror for a few minutes, looking pensive, but then you see frustration and pain on his face, and he just transforms back to his usual self - green hair, black tee, ripped jeans. He glitches again and again as he moves, out of control and looking tired and pale, rummaging through the drawers in case there are any weapons he wants to hand out before they go.

“Anti,” says Trick quietly.

“What?” asks Anti.

“You would never really kill one of the others, would you? That’s just your temper.”

Anti plays with a whip, turned away from him. “Sure,” he says flatly.

Trick sighs, rubbing at his head. He gets to his feet and moves to Anti’s side, trying to get his attention. Anti dives back into the drawers. Trick grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“Hey,” he says. “Talk to me. What is going on with you lately?”

Anti sulks, shaking his head, but he doesn’t yank away from Trick’s grip. He plays quietly with the holster on Trick’s waist, tapping at the gun.

“Just angry,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, I’d be angry too if someone I was into started acting like they don’t know who I am, but that doesn’t mean you get to take it out on us.”

“Well, they ran away!” shouts Anti.

Trick grabs his face between his hands and kneels down beside him, drawing his gaze.

“I love you,” he says. “But the reason they ran away is because the way you’re treating them isn’t right.”

Anti wilts a little, glaring at the floor.

“We’ll figure it out afterwards,” he growls, getting to his feet.

Trick sighs. “Go easy on them for my sake if nothing else.”

“Yeah, sure,” mutters Anti. “Whatever.“

Trick squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to feel like this - like you’re understanding Anti better than he himself is these days. He doesn’t want you to be more true than his brother.

But he also doesn’t want to believe that he’s not thinking for himself anymore. This is what he really feels, isn’t it? This is worth putting up with? This is family?

“Are you sure about this?” he asks.

“About what?”

“Going after Dark? Shouldn’t we maybe, like, talk to them before starting an actual fight?”

“They made the choice they made,” says Anti quietly. “And they took Dap. No more talking unless they’re groveling beneath my heel.”

Anonymous asked: You might not all be on the same page, and hell, maybe a couple of you are in different chapters entirely, but you're all in the same story. The others will have to go at their own pace as best they can to reach a good ending for all of you, okay? It won't be easy and it won't be perfect but the most we can do is try.

“And that’s what we’ve wanted all along, right?” murmurs Blue, touching Dok’s hair. “A chance to try. To get away. To protect each other.”

Dok nods, trying to smile.

“Today,” says Blue softly, reaching down to touch a necklace on Dok’s throat. “I think we might get a chance to use some of these.”

“Okay,” says Dok, nodding again. “Okay. It’s going to be okay.”

He’s scared to be tortured again. He doesn’t know if he could survive that. But Blue is here, gripping his hand, and he knows that at the very least the two of them have each other.

It’s going to have to be enough for now.

Anonymous asked: Anti can and would kill them. He /has/ killed them. He used to kill Red and force Dapper to turn back as punishment. He stabbed Dok in the lungs for trying to protect Dapper. As long as he has time travel, he'll kill them without a second thought just to punish the others.

Trick sits back on the bed and shudders.

“We can’t keep living like this,” you hear him whisper, as Anti busies himself around the room.

Anti steps back towards him. “Ready to go?”

Trick sits up, looking pale.

“Yes, Anti,” he says.

Anonymous asked: Trick, sad to say you'll be living like this for as long as you belong to Anti. Anti will never change, and he will never stop hurting you to make himself feel stronger, locking you in rooms to feel like he owns you, killing and torturing your brothers as punishment. He cannot, and will not ever control his temper. You're going to be stuck here until he's gone. You will not escape abuse unless you leave the abuser.

Anti steps close to Trick on the bed and takes the camera from him, turning with a sudden force to throw it against the wall, smashing it into pieces. Trick flinches and Anti laughs, touching his cheek and leaning down to kiss the side of his face and knock their foreheads together.

“Come on, then,” he says, stroking his hand down green hair as you watch from the camera in the corner of the ceiling. “Let’s go. I need to know I have at least you on my side.”

Trick looks up at him, eyes wide. For a moment, his eyes flicker over to you.

He takes Anti’s hand and they move down the stairs.

The farther they wander, the darker the trees.

“Is this Dark’s doing?” whispers Red. “Or did they just pick the blackest, deadest part of the forest they could find?”

“It’s Dark’s doing,” hisses Anti. “Now shush.”

The trees stare down at them, sunless monoliths looming like gods over their heads. Birds flitter about like rodents through gutters, but not one of them sings, and the buzzing of insects appears only for a moment before a bigger creature comes to snap grasshoppers and flies up like deviled eggs eaten in one mouthful.

“Are we close?” asks Dok, stepping over the ashy graveyard of what was once a great redwood. “Blue is tired.”

“Why are you here again?” snaps Anti.

“Dapper’s sick, Anti,” Trick reminds him. “Dok needs to look after him.”

“I’m sick of the lot of you,” answers Anti, which makes Red snort despite himself, trying not to laugh. Anti raises an amused eyebrow at him.

“Come on,” he sighs. “Here’s the shed.”

Inside a shed in the forest - which Anti has mostly smashed open in the hopes of ticking off Dark - there is a mirror taller than they are standing against the back corner. Anti pushes his way inside and spiders scutter away from the dim light. Dok leaps back, nearly running back the way they came, and stands back from the shed, watching his feet.

“It’s okay, man,” calls Trick, helpfully squashing spiders beneath his heel. “I got it.”

“Go on then,” says Anti, shoving Blue’s shoulder. “Top magician. Jack’s special boy. Didn’t do you much good in the end.”

“Step off, Anti,” Blue spits back, stalking towards the mirror. “You’re just lucky the cameras helped us with this.”

Anti leans against the wall, picking at spiders while Blue and Dok and Red try Dark’s password. After the first eight letters, the mirror changes. There is no longer a reflection of Blue, tired and pale, in the glass - instead, it looks out like a window onto a trio of houses in a grassy field.

Red and Blue exchange glances. Anti and Red exchange glances. Dok sees a spider by his foot and yelps.

Red puts his hand to the mirror, curious. Slowly, his fingers pass through the glass like water. He draws back again, eyebrows raised, and turns to look at Blue.

Blue is gone.

Anti straightens up in his skin, cracking his neck. “Ready?” he asks.

Red gapes, shaking his head.

Anti punches his shoulder and grabs his sleeve. “Come on, so,” he says.

“Go in there? Get Dapper?”

“I should never have reset you. You and I used to go sneak into shit and take what we wanted together. I hate that the violence is gone from you. You were more fun before I gave you Blue. Don’t know when I managed to ruin you so badly.”

Something about his tone makes Red flush, his heart aching. He looks away, mouth taut, and sucks in a breath. Looking up again, he finds Anti looking back at him through his twin’s captive eyes.

“Fine, then,” says Red, straightening. He turns his body towards the mirror and grips his hands into fists. “I will get him, then.”

Anti passes him a fighting staff. Red blinks and takes it into his hand, remembering the weight and feel of it from a time he no longer recalls.

“After you,” says Anti, pulling a knife from Blue’s jacket.

Red moves through the mirror and into Dark’s home.

“Be good,” calls Anti, clucking Trick’s chin once before following after their older brother. “I’ll be back very soon.”

And then Trick and Dok are alone in the twilight forest.

Anonymous asked: Don't let your loyalty become slavery, Trickshot. Know when to let go, know when you're being held back instead of driven forward, know when their desires drown out your own. Never compromise on self-respect.

“All these messages are for you,” mumbles Henrik, sitting down on a rock in the earth and looking the camera over in his hands.

“They’ve been talking to me a lot lately,” Trick answers just as quietly, but he won’t look back at his twin. He waits at the door of the shed. In his hands, Dok’s gun.

“But you don’t listen,” Dok guesses.

Trick doesn’t answer.

“You’re letting Anti treat you like his toy,” says Henrik, turning away from him. “Won’t see the truths they tell you.”

“Dok, let’s not start, not now, c’mon. Been days since I seen you. I thought… maybe Dark had you.”

Anonymous asked: If you don't confront it and talk through it with us now, then when will you, Trick?

“Mhh,” groans Trick, looking away. “We’re busy…”

“You don’t want to ever face it,” says Henrik. “But one day, it will be in front of you, and you will already be too late to act.”

“I won’t fail to protect you again, Dok.”

“You cannot see the things that hurt me. You are blind to them. They will hurt me again. You will watch.”

“I mean it,” says Trick, loud. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. For real.”

Anonymous asked: Be strong Trick, and more importantly be /you/. Be the man who would do anything for his family, the person who lets his twin massage him when he's been guarding for hours on end, the person who whispered secret names across the room to your brother. You need to protect your family, your real family. You have a choice coming up, man. Your brothers, or your abuser.

Henrik watches his brother for a long time. Eventually, Trick glances back at him, eyes uncertain.

Henrik smiles.

Trick relaxes a little and comes to his side, sitting down with him. After a moment, he puts his head on Dok’s shoulder and fixes his eyes on the shed.

Watching. Waiting. Guard dog.

Dok massages his back so he won’t get stiff. Trick smiles. They sit in the wind of the trees together.

“We are making decisions these days, aren’t we, mein zwilling?”

“Not between you and Anti, though,” murmurs Trick. “Not making decisions like that.”

Henrik sighs, his hand around his arm. The distance between them has never gaped quite like this.

“It’s sunset,” says Trick. “Are you going to say the Shema?”

Henrik blinks. “I haven’t said my blessings in a long time.”

“Oh. I thought maybe you still said them in your head. After you stopped saying them with me.”

Henrik shrugs.

“You don’t anymore?”

“I feel far away from the Lord,” he says, very softly, staring down at the earth beneath his feet. “And lately I am not the sort of man who is strong enough to keep my eyes on Him while the valley of the shadow of death is around me. I am dry bones in the desert. The blessings begin to feel pointless. I can’t even keep track of my own holidays. Candles on Hanukah… it’s nothing. Or very little. I can barely remember the inside of a synagogue. I feel far away from my community. I feel far away from everything.”

Trick shuffles, frowning at him. “You didn’t tell me you were feeling like that.”

“No. I guess not.”

“You usually talk to me.”

“You’re not a Jew, my friend.”

“But you tell me things like that. You used to. We would say the blessings together.”

“I feel far away from you too,” whispers Henrik.

Anonymous asked: In abuse there's always a 'honeymoon phase' where the abuser apologizes and makes promises to change. But the tension builds, some false law is disobeyed, and another abusive incident happens. Fish and chips, a warm kitten, treats and gifts and Hanukkah candles are all false apologies for behavior that will never change. One reason it's so hard to leave is because you always want to believe they can change. But all the self-improvement in the world won't fix the way they hurt you in the past.

Trick bites down on his lip, his hands soothing along his gun. He looks between you and Dok. “It’s not a honeymoon phase… Dok-Dok, I’ll talk to Anti about you going to services - ”

“Don’t,” says Henrik dryly. “Don’t, I don’t want you to. They’re right. He doesn’t care.”

Trick shakes his head, putting his chin in his hand as he looks up at his brother on the stone beside him. He doesn’t know if he should say he’s sorry or get angry at him or reassure him or what. He never seems to know lately. Feels cold in the air between them. He hates that. All he’s thought about for days is the things that Dok would do to cheer him up if they were stuck in that bedroom together, and now he can’t even comfort him.

He closes his eyes. For long minutes, they wait.

“I’ll say it for you, then,” says Trick.

Dok looks up. “What?”

“The blessing,” Trick says, mouth set. “If you don’t feel like you can have faith right now, I will.”

Dok’s lips twitch. He shakes his head at Trick, trying not to grin. “You don’t know it without me.”

“I do!”

“No way.”

“Shema, Yisrael,” begins Trick. “Uh.”

Dok laughs. Trick laughs too, but he’s determined. He keeps going.

“We’ve said it together often enough. Shema, Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu. Adonai echad…. wa-hafta… w… v'ahav'ta eit Adonai Elohekha m'odekha…”

Dok looks at him, beginning to smile.

He doesn’t pronounce all of it right. He might skip a word or two, and, as always, he stammers. But he fumbles through the Hebrew with his mouth full of love for him.

And as he goes he begins to hear Henrik whispering the English alongside him.

“And you shall bind them as a sign on your hands… and between your eyes… and you shall write them on the doorposts of your home and on your gates.”

They are looking at each other. Trick grins. There is sunset light in his eyes.

Henrik puts his arm around him again and they sit side-by-side.

Anonymous asked: I know you can feel the divide between you and Henrik, even as anti-blinded as you are, Trick. You know you'll have to make the choice between them eventually. It isn't a betrayal to escape your abuser. It isn't traitorous to hate the person who's hurt you. The choice will ultimately be yours, but you have to realize and wake up to the distance between you before you can even come to that. Anti won't change, Trick. How many times has he promised to be better, only to hit you the very next day?

“He has hurt you,” says Trick, his voice very low. “Hasn’t he?”

Henrik presses his head against his shoulder, hiding just a little. “And you too.”

“No… not on purpose.”

“If you have to start by believing that he hurts me, then yes,” says Henrik. “Yes, he has, and he will not stop.”

Trick sighs. “Well. Then… I think you should go.”

Henrik sits up straight, staring at him. “What?”

“I think you should go. Like you want to. You’re an adult, Dok. We all are. We should get to choose. Right?”

Henrik touches his hair. Henrik beams.

“Yeah… yes, of course. But not without - ”

“No,” Trick cuts him off. “Not now, bud. Okay? Let’s just… chill for a bit. It’s going to be okay. And if Anti hurts you again, I’ll stop him.”

“That’s not your job,” says Henrik, as though wounded.

Trick squeezes his hand. “Are the others okay?” he asks you.

Anonymous asked: Red, how goes it? Find anything yet? Dapper is in a clinic room with barred windows last time we saw him

“Stay back here,” Red warns Anti, pushing him back into the trees. “You might use him like he’s at a hundred percent, but Blue’s sick. Be gentle with his body.”

“Get the boy back for me and I won’t have to use him rough,” says Anti, stepping back into the shadows.

“Okay,” sighs Red. “Anything I should be worried about?”

“Everyone in there is either an imbecile, a powerhouse, or both,” answers Anti. “Have fun.”

Red turns towards the house, clutching his fists together. Okay. He’s got this.

Red stalks around the house, swift and quiet, darting through the grass and staying out of the sight of windows. There are three houses. On one of them, he can see Dark and Wilford on the porch, talking and playing with an enormous dog. There’s a movie playing in another, and Red can see a man inside driving a toy car around the carpet. The third house is still until a little brown cat slips out of it and darts away. Red will check out all three in turn if he has to.

Anonymous asked: Hey Shep! You should tell us about you guys' houses. Where is everything, and why does everyone live in separate places?

“That’s it, I’m coming home,” laughs Shep, turning back towards the houses. To be fair to him, he’s been out in the heat for hours and he’s a sweaty mess. “Uh, well, Dark lives in their house ‘alone’… we all know Wil sneaks in there half the time and Google spends most of his days guarding the place like a loyal little puppy. He takes so much pride in being Dark’s weapon, he’s nuts. Won’t listen to anyone else, though.

“We come and go with the other houses. They’re damn empty these days. But Host and Google and Wil and I have our house, and sometimes Ippy comes back to stay for a while. Eric and the twins are all that’s left in the other house. Sometimes Illinois, but he’s in Mexico right now. I miss Bing, shit. I miss a lot of them.”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, you awake? Back in the early days of us talking to you, you said you would only be free if all of your brothers were as well. Well, Dapper, we're doing our best for you, because we care for all of you so much. Jackie, Henrik, and Marvin are on the side of freedom so far. We will keep you safe, and we will protect you any way we can. Wish us luck, Jameson.

Dapper is drawing on the walls.

It’s been his favorite pastime for a long time, ever since he realized Anti wouldn’t punish him for making the house his canvas. His biggest piece was in a defunct pen manufacturer in Sweden, where they stayed for about two weeks, during which time he covered an entire industrial wall in an image of the very ugly aliens from A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

Today he draws Anti in cheap pencil lead along the wall of Ippy’s clinic, coursing the point along the curve of Anti’s curving smile. He looks happy in the picture. His hands are empty and open.

Dapper turns at the sound of the beeping and smiles at you, though you see a glassy film over his fevered eyes and a tremble in his artist’s fingers. His face softens as he reads.

“I care for you too,” he tells you heartfully, touching his chest. “All of you, thank you - for being here, for keeping me company, for all of it. And you know I’d always wish you luck, my dears.”

Anonymous asked: Hey uh, dapper? Are you feeling alright? You look a little bit... off

“I am not really recovering from this whole sickness thing that is happening,” he answers unhappily, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m tired and hot and my head aches. I can’t keep any food down, including most of my medicine. And Dark was right… Anti helps with my psychosis.”

Anonymous asked: Jackie, methinks you should avoid the house with Dark on the porch unless you can't find Dapper in the other two. Google is guarding, and Silver Shepheard is on his way back. Try to avoid a fight and be sneaky if you can.

“Kinda want to poke the bear, though,” admits Red, narrowing his eyes at Dark. “They have to pay for this, the fucking cock-jockey.”

His own insult gives him a burst of confidence as he slides past Dark’s house. A black and brown cat watch him disdainfully, waving their tails at him.

“I’ll check the other two first. Thanks, guys. I just need to find a way to get in and get him out… or get him out from outside.”

Anonymous asked: Anti helps superficially, but you know what would help more, JJ? Seeing a psychiatrist to get a mood stabilizer to assist your Haldol, seeing a behavioral therapist to help deal with symptoms, and being free from a constantly traumatizing environment. You need stability and the help of doctors. Things are probably extra bad right now due to being a hostage in a strange environment. You're not hopeless without Anti, millions of people like you & I cope and live good lives w/o mind demon's 'help'.

Dapper shrinks in on himself a little, playing with his hands. He stares at Anti’s eyes on the wall.

“I remember… getting better while we were all at home, without him,” he signs quietly. “Even the paranoia - and the paranoia is always the worst - even that was better. And whenever I started talking to my hallucinations, the others would have me go stand in the laundry room, and then after a while I could take ten minutes in the laundry room and come out and the hallucinations would be so much easier to deal with. Just from having that organization in my life. And I took a couple medications and nobody got mad at me if I was delusional or disorganized or acting really weird. And I had a therapist who signed. And I went to church and the priest would give me confession and I didn’t feel like I was going to hell. And nothing ever hurt me.”

He looks down at his hands.

“It was easier.”

The admission seems to have taken a lot out of him. He slips back down onto the bed, sighing.

scunneredzombie asked: Dapper, is there a window or door near you? Red is here to get you, but he needs a way to get you out!

“Yes, there’s a door, but it’s locked, and a big window, but it’s barred.” He frowns at you and makes prayer hands. “Tell him come bust me out. I sure can’t fit through those bars unless someone wants to shrink me and put me in their pocket. Like a little hedgehog…”

He begins sketching a hedgehog by Anti’s foot.

scunneredzombie asked: Rojo, be on the lookout for large, barred windows, probably the second of the houses?

Ro creeps around the first house, narrowing his gaze at Dark, his hands still aching for a fight. For now, though, he’ll have to focus on getting Dap to safety.

He moves around the second house, slipping down beside a cracked window to listen inside. There’s a television playing a loud cartoon. Lifting his head a little, he can see the man with the toy car driving it around the carpet and talking to himself. There is a whole crate of toy cars. On the couch, a second man sorts patiently through them, occasionally holding a little figurine up to the light or racing it along the arm of the couch, making vrooming and beeping noises. Red sits back a little, rubbing his palms together as he thinks. He wants to wreck some havoc, but not in front of a pair of twins who aren’t causing any harm and don’t look like they’d be able to comprehend someone trying to hurt them. They’re all clean and content-looking, playing with their cars. Red sighs. Having innocents around makes things harder.

It always does, he thinks to himself, and he feels more than recalls a memory from two weeks ago - Anti taking him and Dapper to kill the man who owns the house they’re staying in now. His stomach churns and he digs his nails into his palms. He still remembers the blood-craze in Dapper’s eyes as Anti helped him bury a knife in the man’s chest - and then, moments later, the hopelessness.

“Come on, Red, come on,” he mutters to himself, creeping around the back of the house.

He doesn’t see any barred windows. He glances into the clearing between the three houses as he waits for his chance to dart over to the third house.

Dark is on the porch of the first house with another one of his soldiers, someone with a voice so loud and booming Ro can hear it from here. His hand is on Dark’s waist as he chatters at them. Ro remembers the weight of Max’s hand on his waist… the smell of him…

“Goddamn,” he hisses, slapping himself. Lately he can’t focus on anything. He’s just… sad. He pinches his arms until he gets some clarity back, gnawing on his lips.

“Dapper Dapper Dapper,” he chants to himself, and it’s this thought that carries him over to the third house, where, at last, he spots a little barred window in a window well to the basement.

Anonymous asked: Jackie, we believe in you! Hero of the day, the hero of all time!

Ro gives a shaky little laugh, but you’ve put a grin on his mouth. He darts over to the window, feeling sneaky and maybe even a little bit competent, which is nice. Maybe he’s even acting a little like Jackie would act. The thought gives him a strange, nervous satisfaction.

“Dap,” he whispers, tapping his knuckle cautiously against the window. He can get his hands through the bars, but not much further.

Something shifts in the room. He squints his eyes through the dim light of the basement room and sees a nervous pair of big blue eyes looking back at him.

“It’s me, dude,” he whisper-hisses, glancing around.

Dapper’s eyes water with relief. He pushes the window open, leaving only the bars between them. At this angle, Red can only just brush his hand against his shoulder, reaching down into the window well, and he can hardly see his hands.

“Are you okay? Shit, I was worried, Carve. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

Dapper grips his hand and squeezes in forgiveness.

“How do I get you out?”

There’s those big puppy dog eyes. They’re familiar, sure, reassuring and maybe even cute, but not problem-solving. Red squeezes his hand back and tries to think.

“I’ll have to come inside… or get the bars off. Unless you can shrink? Have any Borrower friends in there that could help? Maybe some mice and birds, Cinderella-style?”

Dapper pinches Ro’s hand and he laughs despite his rising heart rate, more and more anxious the longer he crouches here.

Anonymous asked: Dapper was right Anti, you're such a fucking creep. Dying his hair green and roleplaying like he's Jack but still forcing him to love you unconditionally. Touching him like you love him when he's just an object to you. You don't deserve any of the love any of them have given you. You're disgusting.

“He belongs to me,” answers Anti coldly, leaning back against a tree as he keeps an eye on the houses, waiting to see if Red will fuck up or bring Dapper back to him quietly. “I can do what I want with him. Jack never gave me anything but lemons - fine, I’ll make lemonade. Besides, let’s not pretend Chase would be anything at all without me. He’d just be childless and drinking himself to death in the backroom of their house like he was before I kidnapped him. This whole crusade the lot of you have, trying to set them free… pointless. You won’t make them any happier. He’d be miserable with a taste of freedom. You know, if Jack wanted his little protagonist to actually be able to save the day, maybe he shouldn’t have made him so helpless. Huh, like fucking Chase Brody could have ever done anything about me… well, he’s mine now, so there’s your story, Jack. There’s your fucking story.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Anti, this is important. Dapper /needs/ to see a proper psychiatrist, just once or twice, so that he can get a mood stabilizer and other medicines to assist his antipsychotic. You can't neglect him like this, he's schizophrenic/psychotic, treatment and constant medication updates are the only way to truly help him be better. Constant mind manipulation only makes things worse for him if he's away from you even for a short time.

Anti’s eyes flicker over to you and then away again. He’s playing with fire on the ends of Blue’s fingers, eyes flickering from the white light of it.

“Mh,” he shrugs, uncertain. “I don’t think I want him talking to anybody outside of the house. If he needs a mood stabilizer, talk to Dok and have him talk to me. It’s like American health care! You gotta get a referral. Besides, if being away from me makes things worse, then I’ll just have to be better about making sure he isn’t away from me again. Not even for a short amount of time.”

He drops a flame to the earth and then stomps it out with his foot, his gaze watching as though infatuated as even a moment of fire singes a whole patch of earth and sets leaves to blazing. He bets he could burn down this whole forest if he wanted to… maybe set all of California ablaze. Again.

“Letting Dark take Dapper was my fault,” he tells you quietly. “I overestimated how much they cared about me. Let them fool me. It was stupid. It won’t happen again. Not with anyone. Dapper and Trick… they’re reliable. No one else. Almost makes you wonder… if anyone else is even worth trucking with… mh.”

Anonymous asked: Without Blue, you'll have no one to possess: Dapper might snap and Trick can't handle it. Killing Dok would be the worst possible thing you could do if you still want Trick on your side. And like it or not, Red is your watchdog and the others protector. If you kill any of them, the others will turn.

Anti glances at you, his stance softening a little. He shrugs.

“I guess you’re right,” he says. “Just lately feels like more trouble than they’re worth. I think Jack made five to make sure it was too much for me. Maybe it’s just time I started admitting that. Trick and Dap would be cute twins. I could make Trick forget, and I think Dapper would only be sad for a while, cause it’s not like it changes much for him.”

He pauses, digging his heel into the ash of the forest floor.

“No… you’re right, though. I think. Yeah, I can still use them. They all take care of each other - yucky, but necessary.”

Anonymous asked: Anti what will you do if Dapper breaks? And I don't mean just emotionally or mentally because obviously you only see that as minor maintenance. What happens if he can't use his time travel again? Will his loyalty still matter or is it just his power that you use him for? Is he only worth as much as his usefulness to you?

Anti plays with the bark of a tree, picking at it until new growth sprouts from the side of the trunk. He peels it off again and grumbles to himself for a moment.

“I’d still want him around,” says Anti. “I guess. I mean, he’s - like… he’s the only one who… I don’t know. He’s comforting. Fine. But I don’t know if that’s because of the power or because he’s always been mine. I’ve hated not having him with me these last few days. It’s like the whole world is wrong. And when he was in Columbia, I felt like I was going to implode. Like I was going to die. And I was sick at the time, with Blue’s power eating me up. I wondered if maybe I would die before I could ever find him, and not even know if he was okay.”

He plucks apart a leaf from the offshoot he created, tearing it into pieces, which drift towards the forest floor.

“I wasn’t sure if he’d grieve,” he adds. “If he’d grieve if I died.”

Anonymous asked: They don't belong to you, Anti. You don't own them, they're adults that are fully capable of making their own decisions. They have the right to leave you whenever they want, because you abuse them and refuse to learn to control your temper. You're immature and treat them like toys, but they are autonomous human beings that deserve to make their own decisions. Why don't you test it, if you think they love you so much. Just let them go and see if they crawl back like you say they wil. I doubt it.

Anti grits his teeth. The truth is that Red was willing to leave him the moment someone else showed him that he could have a life outside of Anti, and the thought devours him. Blue was only ever here for his siblings.

“Look, I don’t pretend to not be a monster,” he snarls. “Fine, some of them don’t love me. No matter how much I use the hypnosis… it’s not real. But guess what? I don’t care. They still have to belong to me. They’re not getting away from me. Not with air in their lungs.”

Anonymous asked: Dok isn't a psychiatrist, Anti. It's two completely different fields of medicine. JJ needs to see specifically a psychiatrist. Hell, I don't care if you go to the appointment with him, but you need to let him see someone to get his medicine adjusted. Think about it this way, how much use is he to you if you're constantly having to mess with his brain and ward back his psychosis, when you can easily get the same effect with just a few trips to a psychiatrist and a less stressful environment?

“Dok’s supposed to be Jack’s genius. If he can’t handle Dapper’s issues, nobody can. Dapper has always done fine, with only a couple exceptions. Actually, I think the paranoia sometimes makes him sharper, more alert, and the hallucinations keep him scared and confused. He won’t leave me when I make him feel both sane and terrified, when he thinks he’s too much for anyone else to handle. As long as he doesn’t snap completely, his illness is a benefit to me.”

Anonymous asked: Anti, I think you're so insistent that they would never be happy with freedom because you can't stand the thought, the truth, that every single one of them would be better off without you.

“How about you all stop trying to piss me off before I decide maybe you aren’t all worth dealing with either?” snaps Anti, pointing at you in accusation. “Fuckers. All you do is plot against me lately. It’s barely even fun. Maybe I’ll torture the lot of them just to see you whining and begging again.”

Red squeezes Dapper’s hand one more time before sneaking around the back of the house, where a glass-paned door looks into the kitchen.

He could try and get in here. He could try and get the bars off Dapper’s window somehow. Or he could ask for help.

It’s as he’s thinking that he notices movement -a figure entering through the front door, their gait thudding and their shoulders set like a statue’s. Red catches a gleam of light through their glasses. Gigi moves like a bear, his every footstep heavy and determined. Ro narrows his eyes.

“Well, then,” he mumbles, tucking you deeper into his pocket. “Do I tangle with that or try something else?”

Anonymous asked: I would try something else instead of trying to tango with Gigi. He's a robot, so he wouldn't go down like a regular human, and the commotion caused by that fight would draw too much attention.

“Oh, boy,” says Ro, drawing back from the door. “A robot, okay. Well…”

He could maybe climb the house. He sees an open window. If he listens, he can even hear a deep, sonorous voice speaking from inside it, as though narrating.

“Mh,” he says. “Could maybe get up there. I can see places to put my feet already. Or maybe… Dok’s necklace? For Dapper?”

Anonymous asked: The voice from the window is a blind man who sees All. Probably not a good idea to try sneaking by him. And... as for the necklaces, if you use it for Dapper, then you won't have it for Anti. Make sure you've exhausted all other options before that, Jackie.

“Okay,” murmurs Jackie. “Well, I think we’re looking at either man-who-sees-all or robo boy. If I have to fuck with one of them, who do I go for?”

Anonymous asked: Dapper's mental health got better when he had both mood stabilizer and other medicines to help with his other symptoms. You need him /healthy/, him being paranoid and hallucinating isn't good for him. You switch so fast between caring about him and tossing aside his issues. Anti, it would take a very simple set of changes in yourself & your personality for them to stop running and conspiring. You can change. You're not incapable of it. Start small, let him see a psychiatrist. Small things first.

“I’ll think about it, alright?” Anti says, turning his head away. “I got bigger fish to fry right now.”

Anonymous asked: Hey, Trick & Dok? Do you think it would ever be possible to get Anti to let Dapper see a psychiatrist and get medicated properly? I know you don't remember, but before Anti took you all away from your home, Dapper was getting better. He wasn't stuck being constantly psychotic and afraid, he was healing. He needs therapy and proper medications. I don't think Anti would ever give him that, he has too much fun abusing him, but... could you try?

“I’ll help convince him,” promises Trick right away, nodding. “If he needs that, then he should have it. You can get his medication fixed, right, Dok?”

“No,” says Dok, exasperated. “I’ve never really known what the hell to do with him.”

“Oh. Well - ”

Something snaps in the forest. Trick is on his feet, gun pointed.

Silence. A flicker of movement. Dok and Trick are taut as the bow of a violin.

Anonymous asked: Shep? Is that you?

You can see Shep on the other side of the trees, frozen as stiff as the twins. His gaze flickers nervously over to you and then back to the twins, his fists clutched. He doesn’t even have his knuckles with him. He didn’t actually think someone would be here. No one’s ever come to their house before. He pulls out his phone, backing away from the trees.

“Who’s there?” shouts a voice. He stills, staring at Trick through the trees.

Red should sneak into Host’s room.

Dec. 12 2020

3 notes

Red should go in through the backdoor with Gigi.

Dec. 12 2020

1 note

Red should try something else.

Dec. 12 2020

2 notes

Anonymous asked: Trick don't shoot. It's someone who lives in Dark's house, but he's unarmed. Just be careful and try to come up with an explanation for why you're there?

Trick lets his gun falter, glancing over at Dok.

“He already knows who you are, right?” signs Dok. “Will he try to kidnap you again? Kidnap us?”

Trick grits his teeth and steps closer to Dok, blocking him from Shep’s view.

“You leave us alone!” he shouts. “You come any closer and I’ll shoot!”

Shep backs away again, nervous. He opens Gigi’s name in his contacts.

Anonymous asked: I dont know if there's anything else you could try, Red. But if there is, def look at it. Otherwise, between Gigi and Host, I think at least Host could possibly be reasoned to/ spoken with? Gigi is a no-go. Hes 100% loyal to Dark, and an android, so he'd be HELLA hard to fight. And also he'd alert Dark. Host, im not quite sure exactly where his loyalties lay, but im sure he's hella powerful. So use your words before you try and fight him.

Ro presses himself against the side of the door and hoists his body up. This isn’t like the house where he and the others are staying, lined in decorative brick to give him footholds. Instead, windows make his only path up. While his hands find a grip on the tops of the windows, he suspends the rest of his body with his side against one jutting windowframe and his feet pressing against another, and slowly leaps and drags himself up the side of the house, his worn sneakers threatening more than once to make his foot slip and his body fall. The black and brown cats are watching him from the ground, blinking up at him as he goes.

But he won’t. Today, he’s Jackie, and he doesn’t think Jackie would fall, so neither will he.

“On another day,” comes that chasm-deep voice from the open window on the second floor, “he might have been fine. The Host is not always looking. Today, he is.”

Ro pauses, hiding against the side of Host’s window, one foot on the side of its sill.

“Is he going to turn back?” asks Host in a murmur. Craning his neck, Ro can see the man bent over braille paper and a recorder “Or will he still try to sneak past him? In a trance this deep, it’s possible Host won’t be able to do anything about it anyway. He does not like to interfere with other people’s stories.”

Anonymous asked: Shep, wait, please don't call anyone who would hurt them. Theyre only here because they're following orders.

“What do you want?” calls Shep, a faint shake in his voice.

“How about the little brother you stole?” spits back Trick. “No, stay back! Stay back there, I swear to God.”

“You need to get out of here before I call Gigi,” says Shep. “Or worse, Dark.”

“No, don’t,” protests Trick. “Please, we just want Dapper. Nobody has to get hurt. We’ve had enough, okay?”

Anonymous asked: Just let Jackieboy Man's story play out, please, Host-we-love-the-most. He deserves to be the hero again after all he's been through.

Directly addressed, Host comes out of his narration a little, brushing scattered hairs out of his face. He runs his fingers over his papers, jerking back a little.

“Fuck, what a mess,” he mumbles. “Too many players in this game. How long have I been writing?”

Ro’s foot slips for a second and he catches himself quickly, thudding against the side of the house. He winces hard, closing his eyes in panic.

Host chuckles inside the house.

“Come in, then,” he says. “I’m not meant to interfere, you know…”

“Who are you?” cries Ro, heart pounding.

“Ignore me,” answers Host. “I’m just the storyteller. You are the action-taker.”

Ro rolls his eyes, biting down hard on his lip. “You’re really not going to snitch if I come in your room right now?”

“No.”

Ro pauses. Scratches at his beard. Glances at the trees, where a pair of squirrels are judging him from a few feet away.

He slips into Host’s room.

Anonymous asked: Trick, should you just take Dok back to the house? Shep can and will call help if you don't leave. I don't want you guys to have to get in unnecessary fights. I'm pretty sure Jackie and Anti can handle it from here, yeah?

“If we go back we’ll be in so much trouble,” breathes Trick, frightened just at the thought of it. “He told me to guard the way, so I can’t let anyone in or out.”

“Why do you have to do what he tells you?” asks Shep.

“Why do you have to do what they tell you?” answers Dok bitterly, standing up beside his brother. “At least Trick doesn’t notice when he’s being used as a pawn. You know you’re that monster’s little soldier and you still do horrible things just because they tell you to. Pathetic. You stole our sick, speechless little brother just because Dark and Anti decided our lives were board game pieces to be played with. You just let yourself be used, no mind control needed.”

“Hey!” snaps Shep. “You better watch your tongue, little man! I make my own goddamn choices. Your brother is the one who would have killed Gigi if he were human just because Dark wouldn’t kiss him.”

“Dark and Anti are not creatures to be trucked with,” says Dok quietly. “But we have yet to find a way to escape our monster. Turn back. We’re smaller than you, but we are far from helpless with or without a firearm.”

“Look,” answers Shep, biting down harsher words. “Nobody wants a big fight here, right? Seems like Dark and, uh. Anti? Seems like they had a misunderstanding themselves. Maybe we can work this out.”

Dok and Trick exchange glances.

Anonymous asked: Trick, if Shep were to promise to not snitch on you being out here to Dark, then would you let him through? And Shep, would you uphold that promise? Both of you have lost things, you're even in bad deeds. Gigi was destroyed and Dark's back was injured, and Dapper was stolen. No one else needs to get hurt if you try compromising with each other, right?

“I won’t tell Dark for now,” says Shep evenly, hands raised in surrender. “But I don’t think you understand. Dark is an essence and those houses belong to them. They’re always creeping around. If your other brothers are in there, the chances that Dark hasn’t spotted them yet - slim to none.”

Trick and Dok frown at each other, worried. Dok shuffles a foot closer to him.

“I’ll let you through the mirror,” says Trick. “If you let us come with you. I have a bad feeling about what comes next… I think maybe it’s better if we can try to work together. You’re right. No one else needs to get hurt today.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Henrik, answer when the time is appropriate, but advice about Dapper from a training pharmacist, I would try prescribing him Depakote or a common antidepressant to work alongside his Haldol if Anti will let you! I know it must be very hard to have to be a psychiatrist when it wasn't your field of study :(

“Oh, thank you, yes,” answers Dok, his shoulders loosening a little. “Yes, well. He wasn’t on anything when I first… remember. And he didn’t do very well. He would smoke to ease his paranoia, but then he would be paranoid about getting cancer every time he’d cough, so it did him little good. He’d stopped trying to fight his own delusions. Anti was most of his treatment plan, but he acts so dreamy and lost when he’s in his head. Honestly I just kept trying medications til they worked, which probably wasn’t very good for him either. But at least I was allowed to see him and Trick then, coming upstairs to check on him everyday. We were in Sweden at the time, I think. Or Denmark? Before Norway. I was not even sure if we were brothers. He doesn’t speak so much when he’s really ill. He was just my little patient in the attic. He was the one who called me Doktor first.”

He rubs his hands together, glancing up. Shep and Trick talk quietly by the mirror, faces tense and hands always waiting for the other to throw the first blow. Dok sighs, though a faint laugh falls from his mouth with it.

“Oh. I would like to see all of them well for once in my life.”

Red steps uncertainly towards the Host.

“Shy?” asks the deep voice, and it seems to echo through his head. It reminds him too much of Anti and Dark. He slinks back against the wall, cowed despite himself.

“Hmm,” hums Host. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

“Who did you think I was?” asks Red quietly.

“I write a lot of stories,” says Host, brushing his fingers across pages and pages of snow-white braille. “I see a lot of stories. It takes only a side glance. A moment of contact. Stories for everyone I meet. Stories for the people who meet the people I meet. Not all true. Not all real. But possible… possible. Alternatives to the reality we survive in now. I saw, once, a story from a young man Mark shares business with. I thought, for a moment, that you were the protector in that story. The strong man… the hero. Not the protagonist, true. But almost as important. The courage to his tired hands. Defender.”

Ro plays with his hands, his eyes flickering around for a way to slip past Host without coming close to him.

“But you are alternate too,” says Host. “You’re not Jackie. Not quite.”

It makes his blood hot, but only for a moment. For the most part, he feels shame. His head drops. He turns away from an unseeing gaze.

“Guess not,” he answers. “But I still have to try to be… that.”

“Jackie?”

“Yes. Jackie.”

“Well, stop,” answers Host dryly, turning away. “Stupid boy.”

“Hey! What is your problem?”

“Stop living in a story you don’t even fucking remember,” spits Host, already striking his typewriter hard enough to fill the room with click-clacking once again. “Pathetic. You’re wasting a perfectly good character arc on trying to be someone you’re not. You have your own part to play. Jackie couldn’t save his family, Ro. Not for lack of trying, but he did fail, in the end, and that’s why he’s dead and you’re not. If you want to give him life again, it’s time to stop wallowing in your doubt and your fear and your shame in yourself and start being Ro like a real hero would. You better start acting like a hero – today, Roser. Too long the five of you have been stuck in the same painful narrative. Take up arms. Stop trying to remember and be.”

Host turns to him again, and Ro has never seen so much expression in a blindfolded face.

“Or lose more than even Jackie did.”

A cat slips in through the door, mewling, and comes weaving her way through Host’s legs, pinning Ro with a yellow gaze. He steps back nervously, staring at the cracked door. His throat bobs in a swallow. He grips his fists, straightening up at Host.

“What if he’s not enough?” he asks quietly.

“Who?” says Host.

“Me,” he answers.

“Of course he’s not enough,” spits Host, shaking his head. “How dull would it be for a character to be enough all on his own.”

Ro opens his mouth to reply, but Host beats it to him.

“Google!” he calls, turning towards the door.

“Fucking snitch!” cries Ro, terrified.

“There’s a closet across the hall. Run inside. You can sneak past him when he comes in to check on me. This is the only help I will give you. Go.”

He’s too frantic to argue. In a flash, he’s leaping out of the door of Host’s room and shoving himself into a closet full of cleaning supplies on the other side of the hall.

“Host?”

Those thudding footsteps move up the stairs. A fist pounds a knock against Host’s door. “Are you stuck in a vision? If you haven’t left your room since I checked on you this morning, you’ve been static for four hours and twenty-three minutes, including our usual breakfast hours and…”

Ro darts out of the closet on near-silent feet, racing down the stairs with his heart pounding. He throws himself against the wall for a second, thinking someone’s coming in the front door, but it’s just the second cat he saw, a big black cat like a shadow against the wall, letting out a hiss at the sight of him. He races down the second set of stairs and through the little hallway that frames Dapper’s door.

“Dapper!” he calls. “It’s me, I’m here.”

Faint whistling from the other side of the door. Red shoves his shoulder against it, tearing at the handle. It will not open.

“Fuck this,” he mumbles, and a moment later he finds himself ducking into a bathroom nearby, tearing the lid off the toilet tank, and slamming the porcelain into the handle of the door until both shatter and give. The door slides open.

“Dapper…”

There’s his little brother, curled up all lonely on the bed. In the light, Ro can see him clearly at last, and the relief of finding him comes charged with a painful nausea for how ill he looks. It’s worse than a hollowness, because Jamie has always been skinny. It’s worse than fatigue, because Dapper has always been tired. It’s worse than shadow, because his youngest brother has long felt alone. Now, he looks chewed up and spat out, cut open and removed from himself, faint and white and exhausted. He does not rise to hold Red. He can barely raise a hand to greet him.

“Bud, no,” says Ro, because his first thought, in that moment, is that Jameson is going to die.

He moves forward to scoop him up for a moment, pressing him to his chest. He can feel the heat on him before he’s even touched him. Sweat beads against Red’s fingers where he cards his hand through Dapper’s mussed brown hair, gone limp and tired, no longer curling at the fringe.

“Can you walk?” asks Ro, drawing back to hold his shoulders in his hands.

“Not sure,” answers Dapper, touching his wrist. “I feel really quite unwell, Red.”

“They haven’t taken care of you.”

“No, they tried,” protests Dapper. “They’ve given me medicine for my fever and things like that. Kept my wrist clean. I’m much better off than I was a few days ago.”

“Fuck… you could have died if that’s true.”

“I think maybe I would have if I stayed with Anti,” says Dapper, lying his head down on his brother’s shoulder and letting his eyes slip shut.

Red hugs him, grateful for the thudding of his heartbeat. As much as he knows they need to go, he needs even more to feel his chest moving with air, if only for a moment.

“You really are just not having a fun life, are you, Dippin’ Dots?” he says, the weight of it sitting on his chest.

“There are parts of it that are nice,” replies his brother, his hand resting on Ro’s shoulder.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” says Ro. “Like I promised.”

“Okay, Reddy. I’m really quite tired.”

“Okay. Okay. Here we go.”

He raises him into his arms, pressing him close against his body. He’s always tried to stay strong no matter how little he had to eat – not always successfully or healthily – but as the months have gone on he’s been finding his old strength. After wasting away in Norway, he built up corded muscle in Peru with long, difficult hikes up the mountain every day, bringing water and medicine and Christmas presents to his family, and in the past few weeks, with both Max and Anti, he has had good food and plenty of time for the exercise his body has craved. Host was right: now is the time to be strong.

He’s stepping out of the clinic room when he sees the big black cat again, darting away from him now, its fluffy back turned to him.

“Hey,” he laughs. “Did you follow me down here?”

And then, at the top of the stairs – black shoes and dress pants. The thud of a cane against the wood of the floor.

Ro back away, mouth taut, and he watches as that black cat, so dark that the light does not shine gold on its fur, dissolves away into the crowd of shadows that swarm like a cloak around Dark’s dead, rotting body.

“Spy cat,” Ro says. “Pretty sure that’s cheating.”

“I could see you the moment you stepped foot into my territory,” answers Dark, in a voice like a wind through cold water. “Your soul is so frantic it burns just to look at it. Even the ocean of silver power from the little one does not wash your color away.”

“Oh, what color?” asks Ro, curious.

“Not red,” comes the dry reply.

Dark takes a step down the stairs. Their body seems to jolt for a second, and then they must sit down, pain tightening their features.

“Heard my other little brother fucked you up pretty good,” says Ro, taking another step back towards the clinic. “Still not fully recovered, huh? I think I’d be a douchebag if I made fun of you for having a broken spine, but I’d like to offer a generalized ‘fuck you’ if that’s alright. You can’t even get down these stairs to get me, can you?”

Dark vanishes back into smoke and bursts into being at the bottom of the stairs, bone shifting in their broken face. Red yelps and puts Dapper on his feet, turning to wrap his body around him.

“Your little monster will pay for his over-powered tantrum,” says Dark.

“You stay the hell away from us!”

“I’ve never seen anyone as simultaneously intriguing and annoying as he is. But no matter. Soon, I’ll snuff his bright lights out and tear up both the natural and the stolen powers inside his chest, and then he will stop haunting me.”

“You take one more step towards me and I’ll call for him!” shouts Red, extending his fighting staff and whirling on Dark. “And this time he’ll fuck up more than just your back!”

“Call for him, then,” sneer a dozen echoing voices at once, and as Dark’s power begins to fill Red with terror and revulsion and confusion and grief, he puts his hands over his ears, opens his mouth, and screams for Anti.

And in the woods, Anti hears.

Anonymous asked: Anti, don't be brash and let your temper control you. Fight with the wit even Jack knew you had.

Wit – wit, yes, well, this at least keeps his gait steady as he moves Blue’s body through the trees, eyes fixed on the house where he can see his oldest gripping his camera. What you say is true, as he was always Jack’s little killer, clever and powerful, manipulative and built with an instinct for fighting more commonly found in a marten who plans to make a porcupine twice its size into dinner. He was patient, in the beginning, and sensational when the time came for him to cut that porcupine open, and it was his wit, yes, that lead him to capture all five of the brothers Jack created, one after the other, remorselessly.

And yes, even Jack knew he had it.

He remembers the sound of his voice the first time he made his eyes bleed. He wiped the sleeve of a black hood across his stained cheek and met his own gaze in the mirror, and he saw Anti more clearly than he ever had before.

“This one’s wild. Already smart enough to try and get through to the audience. Like it knows…”

His fingers touched his reflection in the glass.

“Hey. I see you. I’m here.”

His fond mouth smiled.

“Don’t be scared.”

Anti remembers.

Does Dark not?

Does Jack not?

It hurts to bear the thought of it, the thought that they really and truly forgot him. He hates it. He hates that you mentioned it. That Dapper keeps saying it. That he doesn’t know what’s happening anymore and he feels alone.

That he sometimes wishes he were still just a notion curled, warm, in the back of Jack’s head, listening to him chatter and breathe.

No. No use for nostalgia now. What he wants are the people he can still have – his Trick, his Dapper, his brothers.

He’s done a lot of bad things to them. Cruel, unbearable things, without reason. But if you give him credit for one thing, let it be this –

Oh, Anti taught his boys to be fang-toothed.

“Where’s my little soldiers at, so?” he sings to himself. “Dok, Trick.”

You see the twins perk up and look over as Anti sends his own message through the cameras now.

“Go find your big brother, Trickshot, and start fucking laying waste. And you, Deutsch – get my little Carver, now. And if anyone tries to put their hands on him – teach them why I use you for torture.”

Steel makes their fond mouths harden. They glance at Shep, and then away.

“If that is what it takes,” says Dok.

“Then consider it done,” Trick finishes.

And he touches his reflection in the clear glass of the mirror, and moves.

Anonymous asked: Alright so we're just going in guns blazing. Dok, Trick, you have any idea of where to go?

“Well, I am guessing it is this house which is all shadowy and dramatic,” says Dok, lifting his chin at the third house, where Dark’s power has cast everything in late-night lighting.

“Hey, you’ll regret it if you go rushing in there at Dark,” warns Shep, shoving himself forward. Trick steps up to him before he can reach Dok, raising his head in warning.

“I have left my little brother to rot too many times in his life,” shouts Dok, moving towards the house even as Wilford steps out of Dark’s house to see what’s going on, smoking languidly as darkness curls around his feet. “He asked me to fight for him! So I will.”

“If you’re coming, then come,” says Trick. “But don’t try and stop us getting Dapper.”

“Fine! Just try not to piss Dark off anymore, for all our sakes!”

Anonymous asked: Hey Silver, I think you should probably go with Trick and Doc. If things get crazy (and they probably will, lbr), it'd be good to have someone reasonable around. I know you can't go against Dark, but I also don't think you want to see anyone get hurt. This is admittedly a big step up from asking you to look for a lost cat, but can you do it for us?

Shep stares at the wash of shadow growing over the corners of his home. He runs after Dok and Trick, expression torn, and when Anti glitches into existence in the doorway of his house, you see him fall back in alarm, eyes wide.

“What’s going on?” he hears Gigi shout from somewhere inside. A sudden thrill of fear pours adrenaline into Shep’s blood, remembering all too clearly the way Anti shattered the android last time they met.

But Anti glitches away before Gigi can reach him. Google snarls, slamming his fist against the door and stepping out to look around. Trick and Dok have already hidden, tucked against the side of one of the other houses. They’ll sneak around the back and get in through the door there, hoping to find Dapper. Shep stares around in a mild panic - but eventually, you see him set his mouth and glance at you. He follows after Dok and Trick.

Host trails out onto the porch after Google, lighting a cigarette with a cold grin.

“This,” he says, “is going to be good.”

ari-trash asked: So you're just going to watch the chaos unfold, Host? You're just going to stand back and let it all happen? Well... at the very least I hope it'll be entertaining enough for you

“Been boring as shit lately,” mutters Host, smoke wafting from his mouth as he breathes out. “I been waiting for Dark to bring me home some fucking chaos. Whole reason I stick around. Nobody gets in to as much bullshit as this family. Google, do you remember when Bim hired an assassin to kill you?”

“Host!” shouts Gigi. “Who’s in the house!”

“I’m blind, Inspector Gadget, figure it out for yourself.”

“Dammit, Host!”

Anonymous asked: Ro, you're gonna be okay. Just keep with Dapper okay? Help is coming

“We’re okay, we’re okay, we’re okay,” chants Red like the words are stuck in his mouth, over and over again. He backs away, wrapped around Dapper, hiding his face in his chest. Dark steps towards them with the thud, thud of their cane, eyes white as spoiled milk. “Help is coming, help is coming, help is - ”

“Hey!” shouts Anti.

Dark stops.

Anti stands at the top of the stairs, haloed in his own venomous, glitching light in the midst of Dark’s shadow. Green and red and cold blue light. He is beautiful and hollow. He is a grave waiting to be filled.

“Stop,” he says quietly. “Back off.”

Ro sees Dark’s mouth curve like a planet.

“Hi, handsome,” they taunt softly, inclining their head, gaze still boring into Ro.

Anti does not taunt back. His shoulders are drawn back, his head low. Blue’s eyes are like the broken edges of a piece of shattered glass.

“Done playing,” says Anti. “Get away from them.”

“I just want to talk,” they answer, extending grey hands like a crucifixion.

“Liar,” says Anti.

Dark turns to him.

“What do you want?” asks Anti, revealing just a moment of weakness.

Dark meets his gaze like a predator circling.

“I don’t know anymore,” they tell him. “For you to stop bothering me?”

“Liar,” replies Anti, very quietly. “Liar.”

Dark grits their teeth.

“I would like you to stop being the ghost that follows me everywhere I go.”

Dapper shivers in Red’s grip, his legs giving out slightly. Dark and Anti glance at him as he crumples and Anti reaches for him for a moment, gaze breaking.

“Back off,” says Anti, stepping down the stairs. “That’s mine. Enough. Enough games. Done playing. Why don’t you come pick on someone a little less mortal, you fucking slug?”

Dark extinguishes all light in the room. Red shouts, scooping Dapper right off the ground. In the shadow, only Anti is visible, Blue’s face lit with his myriad of spasming colors.

“Fine then,” comes Dark’s voice, and you hear their echo give a hissing laugh. “As you wish.”

“Red,” says Anti. “Get him out of here.”

And then he is under attack.

Anonymous asked: Trick, Dok, how bad is it looking out there? I think you guys have a chance but you'll have to hurry, maybe ask Shep which house had Dapper. He's still following behind, yeah?

Shep sighs, reaching out to take Trick’s sleeve, pulling him towards his home. “Come on,” he says, hissing to keep his voice low. “We’ll go round through the back door and get your brother. You can take him while Dark and Anti keep each other busy.”

“Into the darkness?” asks Dok.

“Dude, it’s pitch in there,” agrees Trick, eyes wide. “We won’t be able to see.”

“Can’t you call for each other?”

Dok and Trick cross their arms over their chest, glaring.

“Oh, that’s right… uh, well, he can whistle or something, right?”

“We don’t have much other choice,” sighs Dok, letting his arms fall. “He’s probably scared in there. Maybe even having an episode. He could snap.”

“I bet Red’s found him and they’re keeping each other safe. But we need to get them both out - Dark has a pretty strong effect on the both of them.”

Dok bites down on his lip, reaching tentatively for the handle of the back door to Shep’s house, behind which, nothing but darkness awaits. He hears a slam and the telltale buzz of Anti’s power, so loud it almost feels like it’s making his whole head vibrate. Dark shouts and Anti snarls back at him, indecipherable from the other side of the house.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s go.”

You plunge into shadow together.

Anonymous asked: Duck and run Red, get yourself and Dap out of there

“Come on, bud, let’s go.”

In the darkness, Dapper is almost completely unable to communicate with him. He feels him trying to sign, but they don’t have time to stumble through it, much as he hates to ignore him. He throws Dapper’s arm over his shoulder and moves towards the back door. Black as it is, Ro does not stumble for a moment. He saw the hallway once and that’s all he needs, same way he can take one look at a building before leaping up the side of it like a pine marten or a slightly over-sized squirrel.

There’s only a second where he pauses.

Dapper’s fever-heat warms his shoulder. He can hear his little brother panting in the darkness. Behind them, Anti shouts and snarls, locked in battle, and Red - oh, he can’t place it, much as he wants to, but a part of him knows he’s been here before. Not here, in this house, but… here.

“We were… trying to get away?” he hears himself mutter. “And you were sick… I needed to get you… home. To England.”

Dapper turns his head towards him in the shadows, mouth parted.

“But I couldn’t get away from Anti. Jackie couldn’t get you away from Anti. And then… Red stopped trying.”

And in the darkness, in the pitch black, Ro feels his little brother move his hands against his chest.

“He did not stop trying,” JJ tells him. “He just… needed to forget for a little while. Because he was in pain. He never stopped trying.”

Ro feels something sharp and tight in his chest.

“Here now,” signs Jameson, touching his heart. “You. Here now. Don’t be sorry. No more being sorry.”

No more being sorry.

“Come on,” murmurs Red, pulling him through the darkness again. “I gotta get you out of here.”

No more being sorry. It’s a waste of time. He needed to forget for a little while, but not anymore. Time to be what they need him to be. Doesn’t matter if that’s Jackie or Ro or Red or a little bit of all of them.

He won’t fail again.

Anonymous asked: Red, take Dapper towards the back door, if you remember where it is. Trick and Dok are trying to find you. Escape while Dark is distracted.

Red crashes into Shep headfirst and you hear them both yelp, drawing back from each other, but then Trick is hissing Ro’s name and reaching out blindly for his brother. Ro recoils when his fingers find his face and Trick knows it’s him, letting out a weak laugh. Ro grins at the sound of it, relaxing, and moves towards him.

“I’ve never been so glad to see you,” whispers Trick. Ro grabs his wrist with a grateful squeeze and feels how good it is to be on Trick’s side like they were always meant to be.

“We gotta go,” he says. “Come on, back towards the door.”

“Dark and Anti are going to hurt each other,” protests Shep. “Are we just… not doing anything about that?”

“Let’s just get out of here first,” hisses Dok, pulling them all back towards the door, and moments later, they stumble out into the light with sighs of relief.

aether-mae asked: Maybe you boys should stay out of anti and darks squabble. Let them brawl it out in the dark like the heartbroken lovesick monsters they are

“I think they’re right,” agrees Dok, already taking Dapper’s face in his hands to look him over. “Oh, my poor buddy.”

Dapper smiles wearily at him.

“Let’s get you home, yes?”

“We are far away from home,” signs Dapper, slumping against his shoulder. “But I would like to go back to bed.”

“I’m getting him out of here. Come, we should all go. Better to be far from this.”

Ro glances at Trick, and then at Shep, eyes narrowed. He can’t read Shep’s face at all - it’s never been a talent of his - but Dok and Trick must have let him come along for a reason.

“I just want everyone to be okay,” grumbles Shep, looking away from Red’s intense gaze. “Anti and Dark fighting like this - it’s stupid. And other people are going to get hurt if this keeps up.”

“Then we should run,” insists Ro. “Right?”

“You might be able to get your family clear, but I have friends in all of these houses,” says Shep quietly.

Ro nods, biting down on his lip. He pauses for a moment to meet Trick’s gaze, and if Shep’s expression is a mystery to him, Ro thinks he recognizes the determination in his brother’s face.

“We’ll stay to make sure Dark and Anti don’t hurt anyone,” he says. “They’re both out of control and we’ve let them play games with us for too long.”

“I’ll stay too,” agrees Trick. “Anti asked me to help Ro. But, Dok - here.”

Trick holds out the handgun. Dok blinks, shaking his head. “It’s yours. You might need it.”

Trick shakes his head back at him. “You have to protect Dap. If someone comes after you, he’s too sick to fight back. Take it and keep him safe.”

Dok takes the gun from him, mouth tight with worry. Trick touches his shoulder and then draws back from him, moving to Ro’s side.

“I need to get the twins before they get scared,” says Shep, glancing back at the second house, where a pair of matching faces are staring out at the growing shadow. “I’ll meet up with you back here and we can figure out what to do once they’re safe, okay?”

Red and Trick nod, stood side-by-side.

“Wait,” says Dok. “If I’m taking the gun, then - ”

He unhooks one of his necklaces and wraps it around Red’s neck. His brother startles, eyes wide.

“Dok, this is your - ”

“Break it and re-tie it if you need it,” says Dok quietly. “It will light up the darkness. It’s a weapon too. If you don’t need it, you can give it back to me. Just… take it, okay? I’ll feel better.”

“Why me?” asks Ro. “Use it to keep Dap safe. Or give it to Trick since I’m the stronger fighter.”

But Dok shakes his head.

“It was always for you,” he says. “Take it.”

The raven rests against Ro’s heart.

Anonymous asked: Keep your peepers people-d, lads.

“Bye,” says Trick quietly, meeting Dok’s gaze.

“I love you,” answers Dok.

“I love you too.”

And for a second, Trick just hates it - the memory it evokes in him, the memory of parting with Dok on the shores of a river in South America, the memory of losing him to the magicians and not knowing if he was dead or alive.

“Hey,” laughs Dok warmly, touching his cheek. “I’ll see you in an hour, yes?”

“Yes,” agrees Trick weakly. “Okay. I love you.”

“We already did that.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“I love you too.”

Dok and Dapper move back towards the shed, hand-in-hand, leaving Ro and Trick alone behind the house.

But only for a moment.

“How touching,” sneers a deep, dangerously steady voice. “That you really believe you can leave this place alive after daring to enter.”

Ro turns slowly, standing in front of Trick.

Gigi glares back at him, hands clenched into fists at his side. A terrible glow rises in his deep brown eyes.

“Is that what we were keeping our eyes open for?” asks Trick.

Red extends his fighting staff.

“That would be it, Trickster.”

Inside the house, Anti refuses to tolerate being blinded.

Fire lights up around him in a circle. He burns in the center of it, eyes glowing dangerously with the light of Blue’s flame.

“You can barely even fucking control that,” says Dark quietly. “It isn’t yours. What a fucking parasite you are.”

Anti leaps forward like a snake and strikes at Dark hard, only for his enemy to vanish into smoke. He makes no witty rejoinder and does not taunt Dark anymore. Dark tries to appear from the darkness to grab him, but Anti is lining the floor of the house in flame, illuminating the shadow. Dark flicks his hand and the fire douses. Anti shouts and redoubles his efforts: his fury overcomes Dark’s power and fire grows in the room once more.

“These floors were nice before you got here.”

“I’ll do the same thing to your rotting flesh!” shouts Anti, lashing out again.

Dark blocks his blade with the stern line of a wooden cane, letting Anti score a gash into the side of it and kicking at Anti’s legs, but Anti is swift and vicious and he leaps back with a snarl on his mouth. The speed with which they fight is alarming, so fast that at some points you can’t tell whose strike is slashing forward. Dark vanishes and reappears constantly, and Anti, though solid in Blue’s form, is so coated in glitching and so quick-paced he almost looks to be transporting himself. Dark is stronger, but their back hurts them, and any blow to their spine or chest could down them. Anti is the more savage of the two, but he is bound to Blue’s skin right now, choosing the comfort of incarnation over the freedom of his natural form.

“You look like a demon coated in fire like that,” hisses Dark, circling him for a moment.

Yes, Anti looks like a demon today.

“But you smell like a fairy. And you fight like a human.”

“I’m worse than all three,” whispers back Anti.

“What, then?”

“Nothing,” says Anti. “But that was always what intrigued you, wasn’t it?”

“Stop acting like you’re something irresistible,” snarls Dark.

“You used to tell me I was,” answers Anti, and for a second, you hear something like melancholy through the anger in his voice. A moment later, it’s gone. He lunges forward again and Dark blocks his knife with the cane before striking him hard in the face, sending blood pouring from Blue’s nose. Flowers burst up between the floorboards where the red blood falls.

“Control your fucking power before you tear the house down!” shouts Dark.

“No,” says Anti. “If you want me to stop, kill me.”

“Little monster, it will be my pleasure.”

But it is now that Dark hears Gigi shouting outside, and not just at Trick and Ro. A glance to the window shows them flame growing around the house as well as inside. The fire begins to lick at the trees. Gigi and Trick are hollering at each other, both blaming the other’s master for the damage.

“I’ll burn this whole fucking forest down,” howls Anti. “You think you can act like you forget me?”

Dark vanishes and reappears behind him, shoving him towards the door, and as Anti staggers they gift him a second blow to the face, sending him crashing to the floor. Dark reaches down and puts their hands around Anti’s waist, gripping him too tight as they haul him bodily out the door and over the porch, sending him crashing down onto the stairs that lead up to the porch. Anti lets out a short gasp, touching the back of Blue’s skull, where blood buds up to stain his fingers like ink. He blows out a breath and leaps back to his feet, trying to buy himself time by duplicating – creating false doubles of himself that look real, until Dark is surrounded by a circling trio of Marvins with hatred burning like stars in their eyes.

But Dark doesn’t press their advantage. Their face is flickering again, revealing short glimpses of that same emotion that Anti couldn’t accept when they were in the woods together: confusion, raw and genuine. Their hands are still held out in front of them, remembering Anti’s waist between their palms.

“Get out of my head,” they warn.

“You get out of my heart!” shrieks Anti.

“I’m not manipulating you,” growls Dark, raising their hands slightly – perhaps the beginning of a gesture asking for a pause.

“Well, neither am I. I got enough going on possessing this body for me to be messing around in anybody else’s head,” answers Anti bitingly, setting his three pairs of identical feet.

“Come on,” sighs Dark. “Do you really expect a soul-sight like me to be tricked by your glitches?”

“Which one’s me then?” shouts Anti, stepping forward, all three pairs of himself moving close, into Dark’s space. “And you know I’m not lying if you’ve still got any sight at all! You know that and you’re still – fucking – acting like this!”

A tree behind the house bursts into flame and you hear shouts and the scattering of squirrels.

But Dark doesn’t flinch.

Anti pants in front of them. After a second, his right hand, duplicated three times, reaches out and grabs Dark’s shirt – the shoulder, the back, and the lapel of their fine black suit.

Dark sets their hands on Anti’s waist.

Squeezes.

Hard.

Feels his solidity beneath their fingers.

Anti closes his eyes, a flicker of pain in his face, but, if only for a moment, you see some of the panic drain away from his white face. The double and triple flicker out of existence.

Anti breathes.

He looks up at Dark and he pulls in air, Blue’s heart racing. Ash in his mouth and hands on his waist.

“Asshole,” he chokes, striking Dark’s chest with a faltering fist. “You liar. You do remember me.”

Dark’s gaze breaks, eyes sliding closed. They squeeze his waist again. Loosen. Squeeze. Loosen. Breathe.

“I think… I do.”

“Why’d you pretend?” cries Anti. “Is it true what you said – my soul doesn’t look the same anymore? Can you see Blue’s power instead of mine?”

“I didn’t remember you,” mumbles Dark. “I still… it’s like if I had been a character in a play, and so were you, and then suddenly here you are, telling me to remember the lines we read. But the part of you I remember – you don’t look like yourself at all. You’re not the character. You’re someone else. Someone I know even less.”

Anti grips their wrist, shaking his head. “Don’t say that.”

“You can’t admit it to yourself,” Dark murmurs, withdrawing slightly. Around them, the heat and smoke is only rising. “That I don’t remember all of it. I can see the fear it puts in you.”

“What am I supposed to believe? Who could have done something like this? Not my Dapper. That’s a lie. Not him. The others have already – have already done what they’ve done. But not him and not Trick. Those are mine. You – you were mine, Dark, fuck you!”

He shoves Dark back and grabs their jacket, pulling them close.

“Tell me you remember me! And you were pretending! And you know me and now you’ll start acting like yourself again! Tell me that, now!”

But Dark is pulling away from him, shaking their head.

“Dark! Tell me that and mean it, goddammit!”

“You are a piece of something now far away from me,” says Dark. “But right now, all you are is a threat, and I will play games no longer.”

“Pangur Dubh!” screams Anti, voice breaking. “It’s me!”

“Wilford,” says Dark.

Anti hears the cock of a gun.

He throws Blue’s body back, falling back onto the porch again just in time for the bullet to miss him. Dark vanishes back into shadow and Anti turns his eyes to Wilford, who isn’t even reloading – just looking at him with a sort of strange pity in his eyes.

Anti –

Oh, fuck.

Shit, he –

He’s had enough.

He’s had enough. He’s had it. Humiliation washes over him so hot and loud it almost makes him dizzy, and Blue’s fragile little body aches against his trapped form even as it protects him from the side effects of stealing Marvin’s power, and he’s tired, and he’s scared, and he wants to go home.

But only for a moment.

Because, for a long, long, long time, he has learned one very dangerous skill:

Turn all of that into rage, and let it swallow you whole.

“Anti, you’re going to burn the whole fucking forest down! Dapper can’t reverse right now!”

“There are still people nearby! Dapper and Dok and others who haven’t hurt us!”

“Make him stop, please, please! Dark, do something, Wil, shoot him, make him stop!”

“Dark, you have to stop this. Where did you go?”

Trick and Red and Shep and Gigi’s voices are lost in the pounding of the blood in Anti’s head. Even Host is retreating now, stepping away from the porch and out onto the grass as the fire spreads, the amusement disappearing from his mouth. Anti chokes on his anger, eyes watering with the force of it, and blood gushes from his throat so fast he’s faint. At this point, he doesn’t think he could control the fire if he wanted to. He remembers Blue’s burst of power at the top of the mountain, sending plant life exploding through the rocks and sand.

Now I’m the one who’s out of control, he realizes faintly.

And a voice in his head answers, pleads, begs:

Anti. Give it back to me and I will make it stop.

Marvin, he answers. I wasn’t lying. I don’t know how.

All six of us and all of these people here are going to DIE, Anti.

Anti feels heat on his face. Ash on his white hands. Smoke in the air. Smoke like flame in the air. And he breathes. He breathes.

So be it.

#chapter four

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rubik-ashala · 4 years ago

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Let Alucard have nice things!

This doubles as both a headcanon description and a rant so here goes:

I just got done watching the 3rd season of Castlevania and I am not happy. I have two things two say about it. This contains spoilers for the series so you have been warned.

First complaint and observation:

Did anybody get the feeling that the show was supposed to end after the second season but didn't? That everything was wrapped up nicely, Dracula was dead, the big world destruction war was halted, we were shown what the trio would be doing after everything etc. Like it was meant to end there but then a conversation like this happened:

Castlevania team: And that’s a wrap everybody! The good guys took down Dracula in an epic fight, the world was saved, Job Done! Time to move on to new things.

Shareholders, producers, etc: Uhh, actually we already signed you up for a 3rd season. So you might want to get on that.

Castlevania Team: What! But we weren't prepared for a third season! The whole plot is wrapped up! What are we supposed to do?

Shareholders, producers, etc: Don’t know but you better get to figuring it out.

Castlevania: I guess we will just game of thrones it terribly then and hope we make it through.

Because that is what it felt like happened. There seemed to be no overarching plot, just four separate ones and only two of them is even remotely together. They take two side characters Issac and Hector and give them there own plotlines. Issac gets the Denarius treatment for no real reason other than to seemingly follow in Dracula’s footsteps and Hector gets dragged to Camilla’s realm because, she needs a forge master to grow an army so she can take over what has been fractured. They split up the trio, suddenly giving Serphia and Trevor a romantic relationship with little to nothing building up to it and throw them in a quest to keep Dracula from coming back after some crazy monks due some occult doctor who style shenanigans to open a portal to other worlds. And while that is going on, Alucard aka Adrian Tepes gets left alone guarding his fathers now broken castle and the Belmont’s treasure trove for months after everything has happened.

Which flows into my Second point:

Alucard got done dirty in the third season!

We watch as Alucard deals with the mental repercussions of what he did, alone. We watch as he deals with the loneliness of being out in the middle of nowhere alone for months with none to talk too. And we see the toll it is taking on him albeit comedically.

Then the siblings come in.

They come to him for help and education on fighting vampires back in their homeland, something that Alucard is more than happy to help with. One, because he has company again and Two, passing on the knowledge to the new generation seemed fitting.

During the time they stay he grows fond of them and they him. You see them training and horsing around, eating meals together and other wholesome shenanigans.

You get to see a conversation where the sibling talk about how they notice how lonely he has been and how they believe he stays out here to punish himself and maybe they should do something for him before they move on. And it’s all like “aww that is so sweet!”

Then you see Alucard trying to sleep and failing miserably in his bed. Even so far as wondering if he should get a coffin to sleep in. Then you see the siblings show up in the door way and begin walking towards him in the bed saying , in a very sultry voice, how alone he must have been, how he should deserve a reward, ectera. Followed by them getting all hot and steamy with him.

The scene makes a point to show how much Alucard is enjoying this attention, and how happy it is making him. Your watching it and it’s like “Maybe it's gonna be one of those fond memories he will be able to look back on after their gone.” or “Maybe they will become some Badass monster hunting thruple and Alucard wont be alone anymore.”

Nope! Not today in my Grim Dark Gothic Fantasy World!

They instead, after giving Alucard the night of his life, put these metal cuffs on him that shoot out a bunch of ropes that tie him in classic Jesus on a cross position and then proceed to try and kill him.

Why?

Because the were under the belief he was lying and holding things back from them, and in particular about the castle not being able to move. And they were tired of being lied to.

Luckily for Alucard they didn't realize his sword could move on its own and they weren’t alive for much longer because of it but...Really?

Why? Why do this to him?

He lost his mother to a witch hunt, he had to kill his own father and now this? All in little over a year? What the Hell man!?

Let the Dhampire have nice things! He deserves better than this!

So, I made a headcannon to soothe me angry brain.

I took a fantasy race of mine that was inspired by the Crusnics of Trinity Blood and added them in to Castlevania. In Particular one specific one.

Name: Floki

Age: Around Adrian’s age give or take a few months.

Hair: Black

Eyes: Mismatched blue/green

Height: About the same as Adrien’s perhaps a little taller.

Personality: Mischevious, HArdworking, Loves deeply, Fiercly but wisely protective, loves to work with his hands, loves to learn more about the world and how it works. Deeply fond of Adrian even though he hasn’t seen him in a few years. Also, a smidge psychotic, but just a smidge.

Floki is part of a race of beings referred to as “The Old Ones”. They are a race similar in habit to the Vampire but they feed off vampires, night creatures and other supernatural beings over humans. They are immensely powerful, even at young ages and have been rumored to be the source of some of the gods of Ancient Mythology.

Floki’s father (Yet named) was Dracula’s mentor and where he got much of his scientific knowledge from in his early years. They became friends during his teaching and even after parting ways, would still occasionally see each other every few half centuries or so to trade information and chat.

During this time, Floki’s father was desperately trying to have children of his own and failing. At one point believing that he was sterile and unable to father children. Something Dracula knew as well and so hid Lisa’s pregnancy from him for fear of making his sadness worse.

However, a few months later, It was revealed that his current love was with child and Floki was born accompanied by much drunken Norse revelry.

When the two men met again a few years later, Floki was brought with his father to show to Dracula that he finally had a child. A moment where Dracula also revealed his son and Where Floki met Adrian.

Floki showed Adrian what it was like to play and horse around. They would play pretend out in the woods, get dirty, skin thier knees, the works. And where one was, you would find the other close by.

The visits between the two powerful men became more frequent due to the boys wish to see each other, not that the parents minded all that much.

Over time Floki’s affection for Adrian would change and deepen. His longing to stay by his friends side would get stronger and one fateful afternoon when Adrian got hurt, FLoki would realize how he had fallen in love with him.

Adrian would never know this however, due to Floki’s unstable powers at the time, his sub par control of his hunger and the fear of hurting him.

As they got older, and partly to the above, their visits to see each other would lessen and by the time they were full grown, had stopped entirely.

That is until Floki Heard of Lisa’s death at the hands of the church.

Even with his incredible power to teleport far distances it took him several months to reach Wallachia. He didn’t seek out Adrian immediately though, too curious to see the truth of what happened.

Each of “The Old Ones” Has a unique skill that is developed and evolved over time, according to personality, interest, skill and homeland. Due to Floki’s curiosity, his love for history and his desire to see how it all works together, he developed what he liked to call, memory recall.

His skill allowed him to see memories of the past through people, objects or locations where something that evoked strong emotional or magical reactions in the area happened. And if there was no such thing, if the event was more recent, if he had access to people that were there and stood on the location, he could see and feel the event as if he lived it.

Lisa’s death held him up in an inn for several days trying to chase the feeling of flames on his skin. Dracula’s anger and grief laid him up for even longer as he cried himself sick.

Gregit was better though, seeing the man who did the deed getting called out by a demon and then eaten gave him a bit of satisfaction.

Briela was fascinating though. He had to meet whomever managed to capture the ever moving castle.

By the Time Floki would arrive at the now defunk castle and underground hold, the siblings bodies are already outside on pikes.

This doesn't scare him away of course, and to find out why they were there he uses his memory recall. Where he sees through there eyes what they did to Adrian, albeit a little fuzzy. But is able to hear what the twins were thinking in that moment and see, just for a short time, Adrian tied to the bed afraid and hurt.

This causes him to snap his fingers and cause the corpses to burst into flames.

An action that draws Adrian’s attention causing a little bit of a fight before they recognize each other.

Over the next while Adrian allows Floki to stay and fix the castle as well as the Belmont estate and work towards getting the transportation engine online again. Eventually.

Overtime, all of Floki’s feelings come back with a vengeance and he gives as much attention and TLC to Adrian as he allows. Eventually getting Adrian to allow him close enough to see though his memory what the siblings had done to him

A scene that will either start a few revelations with both Adrian and FLoki or lead to a very steamy situation. Possibly both.

But it all ends in Adrian getting all the Love and TLC that man deserves after the hell he was put through.

I just hope they aren’t trying to set him up to become an antagonist later...

#castlevania #adriandeservesbetter #adrian tepes

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nonstoplover · 5 years ago

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For The Better (two) ~ Michael Corleone

masterlist

Summary: (y/n) is back to living life alone, and it’s not long until she finds company to divert her thoughts from the fight whilst Michael keeps on trying to find a way to win his wife back.

Words: 4.2K

Approximate reading time: about 20 mins

A/N: since i received so many likes and reblogs on the first part (which i'm incredibly grateful for), i decided to continue it. i hope it didn't turn out too cheesy and bad. if there'll be the same amount of interest in this part too, i'll maybe write a prologue even! something about how they met maybe. i hope you enjoy ♡

previous chapter

The days seem to end faster than before since I always find something important to do, not like when I was still living in the house.

There I had to keep myself busy with cleaning, rearranging the photo frames on the shelves and walls in our shared room with Michael, reading or just (slightly impatiently) waiting for him to finally finish work and be able to spend some time with me.

Now I have all the freedom I wanted, I spend every minute with something to help make this world a better place.

It feels good to help people in need, and it's never enough to make me fully satisfied, but I have to admit that even though it's the most important thing in my life and I love doing it with every fibre of my being, I almost only do this with such motivation and force to keep Michael Corleone out of my mind.

It's pretty effective, I have to say. Diving into my work even when it's the middle of the night is enough for me to stop thinking about my husband and the life I've been living until only two weeks ago.

Usually I work until I'm so dead exhausted that I faint from tiredness and only wake up in the morning when I have to leave for another meeting or something else that's work-related.

Habits from my previous lifestyle stay with me, for instance, I always keep the small revolver I got a few years back (a unique one specifically designed for me) in my handbag, ready for using.

I still keep an eye on the news of that world, the one I left behind, only hoping that I won't find anything terrible about the Corleone family, my family.

Every day I notice someone who's watching over me, probably because Michael ordered it, and about every three days Connie, Fredo or even Tom appears at my door to ask about me.

These conversations always go the same. They ask me how I'm feeling, I politely answer. They ask me if I had changed my mind about leaving them, I say no, not yet. They ask me if I need anything, money or protection, I say no, I'm fine. They incidentally tell me about how miserable Michael's feeling, and I close off all my real emotions, pretending that it doesn't affect me, when in reality, it feels like another sliver is breaking off from my heart every time I hear his name.

Usually as soon as they leave, I break down crying right there on the floor, and stay there for at least another hour or so until I can calm down and convince myself yet again that what I did was the right choice.

Weeks go by like this slowly turning into months, and the only difference is that the number of occasions of a Corleone visiting me is slowly starting to get rarer and rarer with time until it all comes to an end. None of them knock on my door anymore, trying to convince me to come back.

I think they accepted the fact that I've chosen. And that my decision simply can't include their lifestyle. Not for now, anyway. I told Michael I need a break, and I'm keeping myself to it.

I'm slowly getting better, mentally and physically as well, I can feel it in my blood and my bones. I feel much calmer all the time, anxiety and fear completely disappearing from inside of me, only that little emptiness stays. The part of me that loves him, misses him and needs him. The part I closed off when I walked out of his office that night.

I manage to make a couple friends even in this short amount of time, all through work or living in the same neighbourhood, and I even start to live a more proper social life, occasionally going out to pubs, even a couple parties as well, or simply just the pictures once in a while.

No one seems to know who I am, or more precisely who I was, no one connects me to the Corleone family anymore. And for this little while it feels nice to be just (y/n). Not (y/n) Corleone, not Mrs Corleone, just plain old (y/n).

One Friday my friend Marjorie convinces me to accompany her to a party held by one of her friends, and then only a couple hours later I'm standing on the staircase leading to the front door of a huge house, my arm linked with my friend's.

Music slightly sweeps out through the door as we wait for it to open, then the usual greetings and introductions take place as soon as Marjorie's friend opens the door.

Only an hour later I find myself sitting on the stairs inside the house, half-heartedly listening to the chaotic noise the music and people's chatter causes, but mostly I'm just deep in thought.

"How come a beautiful lady like you not being out there on the dancefloor?" A male voice suddenly speaks above me out of nowhere.

I spin my head around in curiosity, seeing a young man slowly walking down the stairs behind me. I scoot to the side to give him more space to walk by me, a shy smile on my face from the given compliment.

"I guess I'm not in the mood for it at the moment," I admit with a shrug.

"Glad I'm not alone then," the man chuckles as he passes me, stopping at the end of the stairs, his arm held out towards me. "I'm John, by the way."

"I'm (y/n), nice to meet you."

"Mind if I join you?" John signals towards my seat and with a polite motion of my arm I let him sit next to me.

We spend the following one or two hours talking before I decide to eventually go home. John immediately offers to walk me home, and I gladly take his offer. Who would want to walk alone at this late hour anyway?

Throughout our walk I try to make myself confess to him that I'm married, I don't want him having false hope, I don't want to give him mixed signals. But I just can't. There's never a moment I could say something like this.

And a part of me feels so good that after such a long time, a man shows interest again in me.

In the end, we part ways and I close the door behind me, leaning against the wooden surface, the weight of the truth still pulling me down.

It's not like you did anything wrong, I have to remind myself. You had a conversation with an interesting person, then walked home with him so it'd be less dangerous out in the streets. There's nothing wrong in it.

But somehow it still feels bad. The fact that I've spent time with a man without Michael's knowledge makes it feel like I'm doing something bad.

It's not like I'll ever meet John again.

Oh how wrong I was.

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

Third Person's Perspective:

Michael's unstoppably pacing up and down in front of the desk in his office, impatiently waiting to hear the latest news about his wife.

He doesn't even notice how late it is in the evening, all he cares about is to finally hear a knock on his door.

Half an hour later he's raging. The poor young boy he sent out tonight to watch over (y/n) stands in the corner, fear clear in his eyes. He's never seen his boss act so mad before.

Michael already forgot about the boy, all he can think about is the image of his wife and another man inside his head.

Could (y/n) really get over him this fast? Did he mess this up so bad that it truly is over?

Suddenly he feels like crying, again, and this makes him even more angry. He can't believe he acts so childish. A grown man should never cry. At least that's what he learnt in this world.

He storms out of the room without taking further notice of the now obviously shaking boy, determined to talk with Tom as soon as possible.

- - - - - - - - - - - 1 week later - - - - - - - - - -

Michael slowly gets out of the car, his eyes never leaving the outline of his wife inside the café on the other side of the street.

He decides to stay in the shadows, and luckily he finds a free table at the café opposite to the one (y/n) is sitting in.

He sits down, and whilst pretending to read the newspaper in his hands, he keeps an eye on her.

Ever since he found out about that other man, he himself goes every time to watch them interact instead of sending someone else.

There have been already a couple meetings he have stormed out from because of this, nothing seemed as important as his wife.

His wife. His. Is she even still that? He ponders, chewing on his bottom lip until he feels the familiar taste of blood on his tongue.

His glance travels back towards the other side of the street, trying to figure out with examining eyes what she feels from the way she moves and behaves.

He can almost swear there's nothing flirty or romantic in her behaviour, nothing but a simple friendliness, and that wouldn't be surprising. (y/n) has always been the kindest person he ever met in this world.

But still, that little voice in his mind keeps repeating that on that Saturday night, he walked her home, arms linked, looking cozy from what that poor kid he sent out to watch her reported.

His heart aches every time he sees her smile, or when her shoulders lightly shake as she's laughing away at something the man said because it's not him that made her happy.

Still, he can almost even hear the sound of her giggle in his ears, the most beautiful sound ever existed. Oh, how much he misses to hear it.

He feels his fingers curl, nails digging into the skin of his palm as anger sparks up in chest again.

He would do anything just to be able to talk with her, hear her voice and feel her presence around him again.

He needs her to survive, to stay alive, more than anything or anyone, now he knows it, and he can only hope that he'll be able to tell it to her soon.

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

(y/n)'s Perspective:

John takes the truth like a true gentleman. He says he's not even that much surprised. He says, I always thought that there's no chance for such a lovely woman like you to be without a husband.

But he still insists on us keeping in touch, he says I became one of his greatest friends since that party, and I have to admit, it feels lovely to be able to speak with someone who understands me in such a level.

I tell him all my thoughts and feelings about Michael and our marriage, even the reason why I decided to take a break, with successfully not giving away who he is and what his job is.

I tell him how much I miss my husband, our conversations, how even after all that negativity and pain I experienced in the past year I still yearn to be by his side, to be a member of that family. How wonderful it felt to belong somewhere after growing up in such a corrupt, non-loving family that only cared about social ranks and money.

I tell him how when I can't sleep, it's Michael's face I see in the dark, and when I'm feeling down or when I'm anxious, I try and repeat his words and his voice, as if he's right by my side, calming me.

I tell him how I still love him with every beat of my heart. Every breath I take is for him. Every thought I have is about him. Every waking moment his image fills up my mind.

John offers amazing, useful advice that help clear my mind enough so I can think the whole situation through from another point of view.

One day we decide to take a walk in the nearest park, trying to enjoy the warm weather as much as we can after finishing our drinks in the café we always go to.

On the way there, I feel so free and happy that I take a few steps ahead of John only to twirl around, my arms spread wide in the air and a giggle escaping my lips.

Just as I'm turning back, my eyes follow my moves and suddenly see something I have not at all expected to see. I take a double take, squinting a bit so I can see in the shadows on the other side of the street more easily.

When I find what I was searching for, my heart skips a beat. It truly is him. Michael.

I immediately start marching towards him, not even glancing around before stepping on the road, John's worried exclaims following me in the air as he tries to keep up with my sudden, fast pace.

Michael stays in one place, watching me motionlessly. He knows there's nothing he can do after being noticed. He knows now that I know he has been watching me.

His eyes are cold, his face emotionless as I reach him. My heart feels so happy that the oh-so-waited sight is finally in front of me that it takes me a few moments to register that he's not so happy to see me.

To see us at least. Because the next moment his eyes shift towards the just arriving man accompanying me, and his whole body just goes even stiffer.

Then his eyes move back to me, and we stare at each other for a couple silent minutes, waiting for the other to say something.

Me, for a reason as to why he's always following me or for a sign that he realised what we have is something that's not worth throwing away.

Him, probably for a reason as to why I'm spending my time with another man.

"(y/n), is everything alright?" John speaks quite lowly next to me. "You know who this is, maybe we should just leave."

For a moment I think he knows. That somehow he managed to figure it out that my husband, the man I complained so much about is actually the head of the Corleone family.

But then I realise he's only talking about the man in front of us being Michael Corleone. Not my husband, just the mafia boss.

Michael glances back at John and if looks could kill, I'm sure he'd be dead by now. I never thought those chocolate brown eyes could look so cold.

"It's alright, John. We're fine," I answer, eyes never leaving my husband.

"What do you-" he starts to ask, but suddenly Michael snaps, shutting him up in a millisecond.

"She said it's alright, didn't you hear?"

And even though his voice is harsh, cold, angry and full of some kind of hatred, it still sends a shiver down my spine and butterflies fly around in my stomach.

After so many nights of trying to remember his voice in my ears it's a true miracle to actually hear it.

"You can leave me here, John, I have a few things I need to do." I turn towards him, fingers lightly touching his arm to make him place his full attention on me.

"I'm not leaving you alone with this man," he shakes his head swiftly, the tone of his voice giving proof how negatively he's thinking of the man in front of us.

Michael's already taking a step towards him, arms moving to his side but since I know him so well, I'm right in front of him in under a millisecond, palm against his chest to calm him down like I did so many times before.

"It's okay, Michael," I speak lowly. "We don't want to make a scene, now do we?"

Shooting a quick glance at John above my shoulder I can see that his mouth is wide open, jaw dropped down to the ground as the thoughts clearly chase around in his mind fast. He's trying so hard to process what he has just seen, and when he does, his eyes widen, matching the other parts of his facial expression.

"You... he... your husband is Michael Corleone?" His voice shows nothing but pure shock as he manages to understand the situation.

"He knows you're married?" Michael's voice rings in my ear, making me look back at him immediately, my arms falling back to my side as I take a half step back.

He looks almost the same surprised as John, he obviously didn't think this to be the case.

"Yes, he is, and yes, he knows." I answer to the both of them before looking deep in Michael's eyes. "I think we should go somewhere more private now. We have quite a lot of things to talk about."

Michael nods, so I turn back towards John.

"I'm honestly sorry that we can't make it to the park today, but we'll catch up another day, alright? I think you know how important it is now for me and my husband to have a conversation..."

"Absolutely, yes, I know. I hope everything goes right," John nods, his voice still a little raspy from the shock he just went through.

"I'll talk to you later then, if that's okay with you."

He nods once more before slowly turning around and making his way away from us.

"So what do you think, can we use your office?" I look back at my husband, and he nods right away, motioning to the side where the car for us is already ready to take us back to the Corleone household, not to my surprise, to be honest and fair.

My heart stammers so loud I'm sure Michael can hear it as we get closer and closer to the house, but I can't help it. The variations of how this conversation could turn out make my stomach churn in nervousness and anxiety.

But at least this time I'm entering it knowing clearly what I want. And I won't settle for anything less.

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

By the time we reach the office, we've met Connie and Tom, both of them surprised to see us walk so casually through the house, as if nothing had happened.

I wave at them with a shy smile on my face, only hoping that they're not mad at me for my earlier behaviour.

They both wave back and they seem glad that I'm back, which makes me a little more relieved already.

Then the door of Michael's office closes behind my back, the sound waking me from my thoughts as I slump down on the same arm chair I was sitting in the last time I spoke with my husband, months ago.

He follows soon after, pulling his own chair around the desk so he'd be closer to me. He knows how much I hate it when he's sitting on the other side of the desk when we have a comversation, like I'm just another client.

"I've been thinking. A lot." Michael speaks up a few silent minutes later.

"Me too," I admit.

"Do you want to start or should I?"

"Maybe I'll start, if that's okay with you."

He nods immediately, looking a bit relieved he has some more time left.

"I had quite enough time to think this whole thing through, to truly find out what I want and what I need in my life. Last time you promised you'd change. I honestly hope you're still determined to do that, because that's the most important thing for me. For us." I pause, giving him a chance to answer.

"Of course, I'm actually already getting there. Been trying for the past month or so, you can ask Connie, she'll prove it."

"Lovely," I nod. "Well then, it makes this easier for me to say the following things. You know, I truly missed you and the whole family, and being with you. I really think that this break was very much needed, because now I can see crystal clear that I do love my life the way it has been, and I'm able to pinpoint all the positive things about living here."

Michael's eyes slightly widen as he silently listens to me talk, he probably didn't think to hear these things from me so easily.

"I didn't stop loving you, Michael, not for a single moment, and if you still want this, and if you do promise to change, then I think I can give another chance for me to live here and be a part of this family."

He sucks in a breath, a small smile appearing in the corners of his lips already.

"Who was this guy then?" He speaks up a few seconds later.

"A friend, who would it be?" I ask back in surprise.

Is this really the most important thing he wants to say now?

"I don't know, I just heard a couple things," he shrugs, and as he looks away, clearly not being able to keep the eye contact between us going, I suddenly understand it.

The reason behind why he had other people watch me. Why he himself watched me.

"Oh, so when you hear something, you believe it straight away, don't you? Do you really think I'd ever cheat on you?" I scoff, even the assumption making a slight anger bubble up in my chest.

"No, I don't." Michael answers, his voice quiet and unsure. He knows how pathetic he sounds for asking such a question from me. He knows me and that I'd never do such thing.

"You don't have to go and be jealous of the first man I speak to outside this family."

"I know," he nods, eyes still searching some non-existent thing on the floor, avoiding mine.

I wait for him to gather his thoughts, waiting for something else he might say. As we sit in silence, my eyes searching his appearance, I notice the slight differences I haven't had the time to see before.

He lost a little weight, that one's obvious. A couple light creases appeared on his face, making it look like he's done a good amount of stressful thinking. His whole posture radiates some kind of different wiseness, something that wasn't there when I last saw him.

But even with all these small differences, his face is still the same beautiful, it's still the same marble statue. Or maybe he's even more gorgeous now, looking kind of more mature.

"So you want to come back?"

I can tell he's trying to keep his voice emotionless, he doesn't want to affect the answer I'll be giving.

"If you still want that too," I say.

A beat passes as his eyes finally look back into mine, the connection making my heart beat already faster.

"Of course I want that, (y/n)." Michael starts smiling even wider now. "Why do you think I spent so many hours out in cafés or just thinking through half the nights on how to win you back?"

A similarly wide smile appears on my face as he watches me with a raised eyebrow.

"I love you, (y/n). You're still the one and only for me, the love of my life. My feelings will never change, no matter how cliché it sounds." Michael shrugs, a chuckle leaving his lips.

We stand up in the exact same moment, stepping towards the other, and it feels just like the first time we ever declared our feelings towards the other.

Just like we're the same giddy teenagers we were at the start of our relationship.

I feel the exact same butterflies flutter inside my body when his fingers ever so lightly touch the backs of my hands, then as his right hand moves up and cups my cheek, bringing me closer, I feel myself growing impatient, and the next thing I know is me leaning in, crashing our lips together.

We kiss like it's the first time we have ever kissed, like the past so many years have never happened and we're back on square one.

When we run out of oxygen, we lean back only until our foreheads are still touching, giggling as if we're kids.

"I love you, Michael, but please don't ever be jealous." I whisper.

"I love you, (y/n), but please don't ever leave me again." Michael whispers back.

And in this exact moment I know that I'll never leave again, because there won't be a reason for me to do that. I can feel it in the way he speaks, the way he looks at me that he will try his best to change, and it'll be more than enough for me.

That break we had just strengthened our relationship, our marriage. It truly was for the better.

.::the end::.

my masterlist

[if you wanna be added to my taglist, dm me or send me an ask]

#michael corleone #al pacino #the godfather #for the better #nonstoplover #nonstoplover's masterlist #masterlist #sunny corleone #corleone #godfather #the godfather imagine #the godfather fanfiction #michael corleone imagine #michael corleone fanfiction #al pacino imagine #al pacino fanfiction

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sleepypanda27 · 5 years ago

Text

Someone New 3

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Y/n is a new addition to the Avengers team and as it happens to be Bucky’s neighbor. It’s clear as a day that they like each other, but will they stay just friends or become something more?

Words: 1,719

Someone New Masterlist

When you returned to your room after your workout session with Natasha, you found two theater tickets left on your desk with a neatly written note next to them.

Sorry, I can’t make it tonight. You’ll have to go with someone else. - Love, Tony.

You wanted to go, but you didn't know who to take with you, and you didn't want to go alone. Behind the wall, you heard a loud thud, and after that, some muffled angry string of curse words.

You could ask Bucky.

Lately, you felt a bit awkward around him after the accidental kiss. Even after you tried convincing yourself that it was nothing, just a small friendly smooch. It wasn't even a kiss, and Bucky didn't seem to mind at all.

You didn't want to admit you had a crush on him, believing it would pass with time.

After thinking about it for at least an hour and taking a shower, you went to his room. Softly knocking on his door, you waited for a response.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” You asked as soon as he opened the door.

“That entirely depends on what you’re about to say next.” He winced in pain, rubbing the top of his head.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, just hit my head against the desk when I bent down to pick something up.”

You tried not to laugh, biting your cheeks, but he looked so angry and defeated by a table.

“Go ahead, laugh, because it’s so awfully funny. I don't remember laughing when you were in my position.” He rolled his eyes, stepping back into his room. “You asked something about my plans for tonight?”

“Right.” You collected yourself, walking inside his room. “Would you like to go to a play with me tonight? I was supposed to go with Tony, but he's busy and can't make it tonight. I don't know who else to ask.”

“Sure. Should I change?”

“What do you think?” You looked him up and down.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” He acted surprised.

“You can’t go in sweatpants and your old shirt.” Although you had to admit he looked good. Honestly, he looked good in everything he wore.

“Why not?”

“There’s literally a hole in your shirt.” You poked the hole in his shirt on his belly with your finger.

“When others wear shirts with holes in them it’s called fashion, but when I do, it’s old.” He scoffed, pretending to be offended. “You’re just jealous of my fashion sense.” You crossed your arms on your chest, lifting a brow. “Fine, I’ll try to find something else.” He huffed in defeat.

“Let’s meet at six. The play starts at seven so we will have plenty of time to get there.” You said on your way out.

“Alright. Can’t wait for the date.” He called after you with a smile evident in his voice.

“It’s not a date.” You chortled from the hallway.

---

“What's that?” You asked, pointing at the dark red single rose in Bucky's hand.

“It's for you.” He smiled, handing it to you. “As congratulations on the successful first part of the training.”

“Thank you, it's beautiful.” You smelled the rose. “I'll put it in a vase and then we can go. You can come inside if you want.”

“Okay.” He nodded, following you. “Also I thought that tomorrow we could start with hand in hand combat, I could show you some moves.”

“Sounds good.” You found a vase and disappeared in the bathroom to fill it with lukewarm water.

“So, how are you adapting here?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I'm good. At first, it was hard, you know. A new place with all these superheroes who constantly saves the world, and then there's me. What do I have? I'm not special like them. I'm not even good at simple things.” Snipping off a small part of the stem of the rose to keep it fresh longer, you put it in the vase, placing it on the table.

“Don't say that. No one is perfect, even superheroes.” He rose to his feet, going to you. “They need you. We need you. You learn fast, and you are a great addition to the team. Not all of us are superheroes.”

“You're a superhero.” You flinched, accidentally prickling your finger on a rose thorn.

“No doll, I'm not.” He took your hand gently blowing on your finger. “I have done a lot of bad shit back in my days.”

“You are, I have seen the reports, you have saved a lot of innocent peoples lives.”

“If you say so.” He smiled, looping his arm through yours. “I guess I have to believe you.”

“Don't even try to prove me wrong.”

---

Bucky stood by the high glass wall, looking outside at the city drowning in darkness, and holding a glass of whiskey. That’s what it looked like from the side. In reality, he watched you and the guy you were talking with, in the reflection of the glass.

You accidentally run into him when you walked out of the bathroom and started talking. A couple of times, he had caught you looking at him or at least in his direction. He wanted to think you looked at him. He prayed that a piano would fall on the guys head. It was evil and highly unlikely to happen in real life, he knew it, but he could dream.

He was so excited to go out with you even if you stated it wasn't a date. He loved your company. This night was going so well, but this dude had to come out of nowhere and steal you from him. What a jerk.

He was so lost in his thoughts, how to get you back that he didn't notice you returning. You took the glass from Bucky’s hand, downing it all at once, feeling your throat burn from the whiskey.

“I’m assuming the conversation didn’t go well.” He took the now empty glass from you, placing it on the small table next to him.

“No, it was good, he’s nice.” You glanced back at the man you were talking not long ago sending him a smile.

“Then why are you here with me and not banging that hot dude?” He tried to sound casual, but you sensed a note of jealousy in his voice.

“I came here with you, and I’m gonna spend the night with you.”

“Did you at least get his phone number?” He grumbled.

“Do you want me to go back?”

“No.” He said that way to fast. The bell rang, signaling for the end of the break.

“I think it's time for us to go back.” You took his gloved hand in yours, leading him back to your seats. He smiled at your intertwined hands, following you close behind.

On the way home, you felt hungry. Bucky stated that he knew the best pizza place in town, so you got a takeout pizza and ended up sitting on the floor in the hallway between your rooms and eating pizza.

“Tell me something no one knows about you.” You said, breaking the silence.

“I like long walks by the beach, and my favorite color is blue.” He leaned back against the wall with a smile on his lips.

“No,” You laughed. “Something that you haven’t told anyone. A secret. Although I also like long walks.”

“In that case, we’ll have to go on a walk someday.” He chuckled, turning serious, thinking about what he could reveal about himself that you already didn't know. “I only act all tough like I don’t care about anything, but actually, I care way too much about everything.”

“I knew about that.” You cleaned your hands in a paper napkin.

“No, you didn't.”

“You have this all tough outer exterior, but inside,” You placed your hand on his heart, and he placed his hand on top of yours. “you are all soft and caring.” He kept on staring at your lips. “Is there something on my face?”

“Yes.” He snapped out of his gaze. “Can I?” You nodded. With his thumb, he gently wiped off something from the corner of your mouth and sucked it off.

“Pizza sauce.” He smiled.

“Can I hug you?”

“Y/n, you don’t have to ask me that. You can hug me whenever you want.” He spread his arms invitingly for you.

Moving closer, you wrapped your hands around his middle, placing your head on his chest. Bucky closed his arms around you in a tight hug.

“You are so comfy.” You hummed, your cheek squished against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat quicken.

“Am I?” He chuckled, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Mhm, also you smell nice too.” You nuzzled your nose in his shirt as if hiding from the rest of the world. The musky faded scent of his cologne mixed with his unique scent engulfed you, making you feel warm and safe. You wanted to stay like that forever. Or at least the night.

“Thanks.” He tightened his arms around you, not wanting to let you go. You didn't know how much time had passed while you stayed in each other's embrace. At some point, you started to drift off to sleep.

“What are you doing, Sam?” Bucky’s voice echoed in the air. You opened your eyes, pulling back from him to see Sam caught like a deer in headlights. You hadn’t even heard him.

“Sneaking past you?” He flinched, frozen to the spot.

“I think we can all agree you failed miserably at that.”

“Sorry, didn’t want to ruin the moment.” Sam walked closer. “Do you have any pizza left?”

“You can take it all,” Bucky said as you pulled away from him completely, already missing your warmth.

“Thanks.” He took the box and went away.

“I think it’s time for sleep.” Bucky yawned.

“Thanks for tonight, I had a good time.” You agreed, standing up.

“Me too, we should do this more often.” Bucky hesitated before entering his room. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure about it. There was a battle going on inside his mind that you couldn't see. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?” You looked at him expectantly.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, James.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #Someone New

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thequeenb · 5 years ago

Text

A Deal With The Devil

Pairings: KamilahxMC

New York. The city where everyone dream to visit and admire its beauty. The busy streets overpower the voices in your head, the thousands of people walking by dont care who you are and the skyscrapers were higher than my hopes.

It was the perfect city for me. My parents got divorced five months ago and i needed a fresh start, a place to be who i always wanted to be. But how responsible can a 20 year's old girl can be?

I was naive enough to leave as soon as i could. My mother's words echoed through my mind "This city hides its danger behind its beauty" but back then i just laughed it off thinking it was her way to keep me close to her.

I am not from a big city. We lived in a barn a couple of miles away from humanity. I wasn't experienced in working but i helped my father with his finances enough to know what i love to do.

When i laid my foot in New York my breath was taken away from me. The skyscrapers covered the sun, the one higher than the other. People didn't give second glance at you because they were to busy to care. Back home everyone knew who i am, a shadow of my parents.

This was my chance to find myself and start over, no rules, no yelling, no stress. At least that's what i thought. Young me didn't knew that finding a job in a city this big was hard. My applications got passed to every possible place i could work in until i settled to a coffee shop near my apartment.

Luckily for me Lily was looking for a roommate and we loved eachother since we exchanged glances. She lived in a small place but we made it ours. She was usually playing video games in the living room when i was coming home and we always ate leftover pizza trying to beat eachother in Mario kart.

3 years ago I wasn't sure what life had in store for me, but be sure i didn't knew it would turn out this way.

It was a quite evening and me and my friend from work Lucy were about to close the shop when we heard the door bell ring, an elegant woman approaching. I sighed trying to put on my best smile trying not to give reasons for my boss to fire me.

She was on her phone texting god knows who but she was so consumed that she didn't even look me in the eyes when she ordered.

"One black coffee, and make it quick" she spoke like she owned the world, and i knew right away that i hate this person, at least thats what i thought at the time.

"I am sorry but we dont serve attitude" i responded quite proud of myself because my words were enough for her to get her eyes off her phone.

She smirked mischievously making me question if i should be scared but her eyes were so intense that everything slipped off my mind. They were caramel and bright. Her suit looked expensive and so did the neckless that hanged beautifully on her open blouse

"You don't know who you talk to do you?" She said not breaking eye contact

And that's when Lucy came to save me "Here's your coffee" she said handing her the cup but she didn't bother to look at her, she was to busy eating me with her eyes

"Why thank you, try to be more like her, at least she knows her place" and like that she flipped her perfect brown hair and left the store

"Ugh who does she think she is?" I rolled my eyes

Lucy looked surprised and i could tell but when she was about to say anything our boss came from her office furious

"I dont pay you two to chat, now go clean the counter before i think twice about keeping you here" she was a bitch if you couldn't tell yet but i needed the money.

___

Two weeks had passed since i was fired. I couldn't help but put my boss into her place. I knew i risked my job but my days haven't been the best. Each night i see weird dreams of people screaming of people dying, of blood being spilled.

Lily said it was all the horror movies we watch on the weekends and i believed it trying to avoid the reality that they felt to real to be just nightmares.

Losing my job was a slap on my face waking me up. I wanted to be more than a girl who worked on a coffee shop. Back when i was younger i was always handling my father's finances and i was quite good at it.

Maybe i am stupid to even send an application in one of the biggest Financial companies but i was desperate to prove anyone who doubt me wrong, let alone the payment was better than any other job

I honestly didn't believe that i would even get an interview but i did and it was today.

"Girl relax, its just a job interview" Lily tried to reassure me but i was to anxious to calm down, i really needed this job

"Yes, with one of the biggest companies that exist, honestly maybe i should cancel and--"

"Hey hey hey, calm down i am sure you will kick ass" she said smiling "but not literally"

I cracked a smile appreciating the effort but i just grabbed my coat and left not wanting to be late and make a bad impression

"I will call you when i am done Lil, Love you!"

___

As soon as i stepped out of the taxi my stomach turned. I was a nobody trying to be someone in the wrong place. I am sure qualified people from all around the world would kill the have this position but here i am outside of the big building scared to even enter

A kind gentleman opened the door for me and as soon as i got in i was greeted by a woman

"Are you Miss Parker?" she asked kindly

"Yes i am here for my interview" i said trying not to panic at the thought that in some minutes i will be talking to the most successful woman in the finance industry

"Well Miss Sayeed is having a meeting right now but it wont take long, please have a seat"

As i sat down i immediately relaxed. This sofa was better than my bed. Miss Sayeed sure had an expensive taste considering the lobby decoration, i wonder how her office looks like

And then it hit me, i didn't even looked up to see who this woman is and now i am sure i will fail miserably and--

"Miss Sayeed is waiting for you, the office is on the 100th floor, good luck" she said looking at me pitifully like she could read my thoughts.

The elevator was going fast yet slow, enough for me to try to think of an escape but it finally came to a stop and the weight of the situation sank in my stomach

There was a long hallway and on the end of it there were two big wooden doors. Surprisingly there wasn't any secretary desk or anything, just an empty bright hallway.

My heels clicked on the expensive marble floor and with every click that echoed on my mind my anxiety was becoming worse. When i reached the door I wasn't sure if i should knock but i did even though she was expecting me

"Come in!" I hear from the other side, and i could swear that voice sounded familiar.

I opened the heavy door as my heart was racing. The office wasn't as i expected it to be. Everything about it was unique and beautiful. There were artifacts everywhere accompanied by expensive vases and a desk in the middle of it all

The papers she was holding were hiding her face but she somehow sensed my hesitation and gestured at me to sit down

I sat on one of the leather chairs that were Infront of her desk and i could feel my heart beating fast on every part of my body.

She finally let the papers down and my breath was caught "No way" i managed to say looking stunned

"Oh my! I know you from somewhere" she said looking skeptical

I wanted the earth to swallow me whole the moment i looked into those familiar caramel eyes

"That's right, you are the girl from the coffee shop" she smiled but it was anything else than genuine

"I- yes i am.. i am Amy Parker" i said folding my hands trying to look as professional as i could. But it wouldn't matter, she saw me with a pathetic outfit on a coffee shop that i didn't even treat her good at.

I sighed but then i saw the amusement in her eyes, something that made my blood boil

"Well this should be fun, why don't you tell me what are you doing here, you couldn't get enough of me?"

I smiled sarcastically, god she was so cocky and it only had been three minutes

"If i knew you are this CEO everyone talks about trust me i wouldn't even send an application here" i said rolling my eyes but she didn't look mad, just curious

"On a serious note, why do you think you deserve a place in my company" she suddenly turned to serious in a blink of an eye

"I- um i am not as experienced as anyone here but i helped my father back home with the finances and i managed fine" i said proudly sitting straight to the chair

But her serious face broke as she started laughing "Oh wow you made my day, you think handling a small business and the world's biggest company is the same?"

My heart stopped at the sight. She was actually making fun of me and it felt familiar considering the opinion my parents had for me. Without realising it i frowned looking at the floor and Kamilah noticed

"I am--"

"Save it, i knew coming here was a mistake but thank you for confirming it" i said getting up in hurry, putting my coat on. I don't know why i even bothered dressing up for someone to insult me in my face.

"You think everyone is below you just because you have a company?" I crossed my arms as she looked at me surprised, like nobody ever questioned her words

"Excuse me?" She now stood up reminding me that she is much taller than me

"Excuse you yes, i heard all kinds of things about you but i never bothered to look who you were, and guess what they were right you are cold, heartless and so damn cocky"

These words came out of nowhere and i quickly covered my mouth scared that i would say worse things

She gazed at me with her intense eyes never leaving mine "Is that right? And you believe everything you hear?"

"I just saw it in the way you talked about me, forget it i dont belong here" and like that i walked towards the elevator only for four words to make me stop my tracks

"What about a deal?"

I turn around only to see her approaching me dangerously close "I will hire you, and if you prove me you are worthy i will take back everything i said"

How could she even make this a deal? Maybe this is how business people apologize but maybe just maybe this was my opportunity to show everyone my worth.

Her hand was extended studying my features to find any hint of hesitation but i took it in mine shaking it hard

"Game on Sayeed" i said with determination in my eyes

Tag list: @scarlet-letter-a0114 @sayeedbound @wildsayeed @amorettemcsky @trouble-with-the-curve @littlemissgreen97 @nydeiri @gavryllo @ilovetaylor13m @vonda-b-real @la-guera-69 @blackphenix9527 @potato-kai-mona-sayeed @thepotatobleh @mrskamilxh

#kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #bloodbound #choices fanfiction #bb fanfic #choices bb #bb #bb kamilah #choices kamilah #kamilah is my queen #bloodbound fandom #play choices

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mikauzoran · 5 years ago

Text

LuXY/Lukadrien/Lukadrienette: Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Six

@luxyweek

Welcome to La-La Land: Chapter Six: Style Swap Part Two

“…So…” Luka ventured. “…You met Adrien and Hugo.”

XY looked back at Luka searchingly, scanning his boyfriend’s face. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he didn’t feel like he’d found it.

With a sigh, XY sat down on the couch.

Luka came around and sat beside him a little less than a meter off.

“Hugo’s a really good kid,” XY remarked, throwing Luka a softball. “Really smart. Really well-behaved.”

Luka swallowed. “Thank you. That’s mostly due to Marinette and Adrien, though. He’s with them most often. I don’t know if I make much difference.”

“Nah. You make plenty of difference. I can tell he’s your kid,” XY assured, looking down at the area rug.

“Thanks,” Luka repeated.

Silence fell.

“So, where did Adrien learn Russian?” XY inquired, only half curious.

“His bodyguard Victor is Russian. He was always really self-conscious about his French, so he didn’t speak much, but he taught Adrien Russian. Adrien’s good with languages. He speaks a couple…English, Chinese…some Spanish and Italian…. He taught himself Japanese.”

XY nodded as a bitter feeling churned in his gut. “He must be really smart. I had a hard enough time learning French.”

Luka pursed his lips. “Well, not everyone is a language person. And even though Adrien is very smart about academic matters, his social intelligence has always been a little lacking. He’s not perfect.”

XY snorted. “He seemed pretty perfect, honestly.”

“Xavier-Yves,” Luka called softly, tentatively reaching out to rest a hand on XY’s arm.

XY pulled away, turning to glare at Luka. “Did you sleep with him last night?”

Luka’s eyes went wide. “I…”

A guttural growl rumbled in the back of XY’s throat. “I know you did. Unless he slept on the couch, there’s nowhere else in this apartment for him to sleep but your bed. I’ve seen the guestroom, Luka. I know there’s only instruments and Hugo’s bed in there. I saw the way you came out of the shower barely covered by that towel because you thought it was just him here. I saw him wearing your hoodie. I may not be smart like you and Adrien, but I’m not an idiot, Luka. I’m not blind. I can tell you’re still seeing him.”

Luka sucked in a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Okay. Yes. I’m still seeing Adrien and Marinette. I can see why that might make you jealous, but—”

“—But nothing!” XY snapped, rising to his feet to glare down at Luka with balled fists. “I come over here to surprise you and take you out to breakfast only to find that my boyfriend is running around behind my back with his ex!”

Luka’s face lost all color. He dropped his head into his hands and cursed.

“Yeah,” XY laughed. “That’s what I thought too. Now, what I want to know is is this an ongoing thing or a one-time mess up. Have you been cheating on me this whole time?”

Luka groaned and looked up at XY with remorse-filled eyes. “Hey, Xavier-Yves?” he called tenderly, gently as if XY were breakable.

XY quirked an eyebrow.

“Could you please sit down? We need to talk.”

XY frowned but did as asked.

Luka took a deep breath and slipped his hand into XY’s, giving it a squeeze. “Look. I’m so sorry that I keep screwing things up with you. I…” He winced. “I told you I was a mess when we started this thing, and I’m afraid that I’m still a mess.”

XY nodded, squeezing Luka’s hand in return.

Luka gulped. “So…I owe you a lot of apologies, but I think the biggest one is…” He bit his lip, bracing for the fall out. “I’m really sorry, Xavier-Yves. I didn’t realize that you thought we were dating.”

XY blinked. “What?”

“I…didn’t know we were dating,” Luka repeated, though the words pained him.

XY yanked his hand back. “Dude. What the hell?”

“I’m so sorry,” Luka stressed, wishing he had something more meaningful to articulate.

XY was back on his feet, face nearly purple with rage as he hissed, “We’ve been making out for months. I’ve slept in your bed. I thought what with your not sleeping with people you don’t love that you’d be a little less loose with your affections, but are you even serious right now?!”

Luka flinched. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you’re sorry? No. I’m sorry,” XY snapped. “I’m sorry I ever thought I meant something to you. Can you be honest for one second? How many other people are you making out and bed-sharing with? Mostly, I’m horrified and pissed, but part of me wants to know how many people I was sharing you with. Do you just hook up with people and string them along like this? Is this what you do for fun? How meaningless was our time together?”

“Xavier-Yves, it’s not like that,” Luka exclaimed, rising to his feet, desperate to set the record straight. “There is no one else. It’s just you.”

“And Adrien and Marinette,” XY scoffed.

Guilt flooded Luka’s expression, but he nodded. “You and Adrien and Marinette, but I promise that that’s it. I don’t just go out and hook up with random people. That’s not me.”

“Then why’d you do it with me?” XY demanded, hurt and betrayal and a hint of tears in his voice. “Why’d you start something with me? You said you didn’t want to be friends with benefits and lead me on, so when we started making out and having sleepovers, I thought that meant you were serious. I mean, I knew you didn’t love me because you wouldn’t have sex, but…I thought I was at least your boyfriend. I thought we had something, you know?” His sky-blue eyes bore into Luka. “If I’m not your boyfriend, what am I to you?”

Luka sighed, sinking back down on the couch. “Important.”

XY crossed his arms, closing himself off, trying to shut down the pain.

“…Important,” he echoed thoughtfully. “What does that even mean?”

Luka patted the seat of the couch beside him.

XY considered Luka for a moment before relenting and going to sit just out of Luka’s reach. “This better be damn good.”

Luka shook his head sadly. “It’s not. It’s just the truth. I’m sorry. I was selfish. I could tell at the beginning that you wanted a serious relationship, and I knew I was in no shape to be in one, so I told myself I needed to be careful not to hurt you and ruin the concept of relationships for you, but…��

Luka sighed, forcing himself to meet XY’s gaze penitently. “I really screwed up. I liked hanging out with you. I liked kissing you, so I just let things snowball without hitting the pause button to make sure we were on the same page. I’m sorry that I’ve been treating this like a casual thing. You’re right. You’re my boyfriend. I should have been treating you like it. I’m sorry I dragged you into this without thinking it through. You deserve better.”

XY slowly began to nod. “So…I’m not just some joke to you? You’re not just messing with me?”

“No,” Luka assured, scooting in closer to place his hand on top of XY’s.

XY let him without pulling away this time.

“I like you, Xavier-Yves. I genuinely like you. I didn’t think I’d like you this much, but I do. I like you as a person, as a friend…and romantically. You’re not a joke or a fling. I know I haven’t been taking this as seriously as I should, but I promise you that my feelings for you are real. You’re very important to me. I’m sorry that I haven’t proven that to you with my actions.”

XY took a deep breath and swallowed. “So…I’m not just a replacement for Adrien because things with him aren’t going how you want?”

Luka’s eyes widened in shocked horror. “What? No. Absolutely not. What I have with you and what I have with Adrien…those are two separate things. You’re each unique and irreplaceable to me. Yes, when we started things, I was feeling down because of Marinette and Adrien, and you did make me feel better, but our relationship was about you and me. It was never about them.”

XY bit his lip. “So…where does that leave us?” He inclined an eyebrow at Luka. “You have feelings for me?”

Luka nodded. “I do. I care about you a lot, Xavier-Yves. I really like you.”

“So, you’d be interested in dating? Officially?” he clarified.

“Yes.” Luka laced his fingers through XY’s, giving his hand a squeeze.

XY pursed his lips. “…Does that mean you’re breaking up with Marinette and Adrien?” he inquired hopefully, but the sad note to his voice suggested that he knew what Luka’s answer was going to be.

Luka took a slow inhale, gently taking his hand back from XY as he blew out the breath. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”

“Because they’re your family?” XY sighed, recalling Adrien’s words.

Luka nodded, face red, a conflicted expression etched into the creases of his brow. “I’m sorry. I’ve loved them since I met them. We have a child together. They’re in the top five of the most important people in my life, and I…I can’t get over them. I’ve been trying for years, but…”

“They’re a part of who you are?” XY echoed Adrien, feeling miserable.

Luka’s eyes widened, and he looked at XY in astonishment. “You get it.”

XY didn’t really, but he nodded anyway. “You’re saying that you and your family are a package deal?”

Luka’s gaze dropped back down to his hands in his lap. “Yeah. That’s a good way of putting it. I know it’s kind of messed up, but…they’re never going to be my past. They’re never going to be exes. I know it’s ridiculous to ask you to just accept that. I know it’s wrong and unfair and that you deserve better. I know from first-hand experience how much it hurts to love someone who doesn’t love you above everyone else. I know what it’s like to have to share someone’s affections. It sucks. It eats you up inside and makes you wonder what’s wrong with you, why you aren’t good enough, why you aren’t enough for them. I know what that feels like, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

Luka looked back up, raising a hand to stroke XY’s cheek. “I care about you so much, Xavier-Yves…and I don’t want that for you. …You probably need to find someone else, someone who isn’t so messed up, someone who can love just you. You deserve someone who can love you fully and make you happy. It’s enough that I make myself miserable sometimes. I don’t want to make you unhappy too. I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

In a small, tender voice, he added, “I’m sorry I let things get this far. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

With a bittersweet smile, Luka let his hand drop from XY’s cheek.

XY’s heart ached the way microphone feedback hurt his ears. It felt like everything was falling apart just when something in his life had finally begun to feel right.

He had to swallow twice to get some moisture in his mouth before he could answer, “You’re breaking up with me?”

His palms suddenly felt itchy. His throat burned, and he could feel tears building behind his eyes, just waiting to come flooding out.

Luka winced. “No. I mean…I’m not rejecting you, Xavier-Yves. I would like to be in a relationship with you, but…honestly, you can do better. I’m not the kind of guy you belong with. It’d be best for you to find someone else, someone who can make you happy.”

XY wanted to whine that Luka made him happy.

“And what are you going to do?” he asked instead.

Luka shrugged, averting his gaze. “What I’ve been doing, I guess.”

“And what’s that?” XY scoffed. “Hook up with Adrien and Marinette when you’re convenient for them and mope and feel lonely when you’re not? What kind of life is that, Luka?”

“It’s fine,” Luka grumbled. “It’s not like that. I’ve got my work too, and I’m happy most of the time.”

“But when you’re not happy, you’re clinically depressed,” XY snorted. “You deserve better. You deserve someone who makes you a priority.”

Luka shook his head. “It’s kind of hard with two lovers and a child in tow. I’ve gotten to this point twice before, Xavier-Yves. Things fall apart when people try to make me choose between them and Marinette and Adrien. That was before we had a son even. It’s unreasonable and unfair to expect someone to accept me as I am, baggage and all.”

XY bit his lip. “You know…decent people don’t break up families.” He found himself paraphrasing Adrien yet again.

“Decent people don’t conveniently not mention the fact that they already have a family to prospective partners,” Luka chuckled miserably.

“Hey,” XY said firmly, catching Luka’s arm with the intent of not letting go. “I don’t like this thing with you and Adrien and Marinette. I don’t. I don’t want to share you. I want to steal you away from them and make you forget all the ways they ever made you feel like you weren’t enough. I don’t want you to be involved with them anymore.”

Luka opened his mouth to speak, but XY talked over him, raising his voice. “BUT, I get it. I get that you’re stuck. It sucks. It sucks not being able to move on, having this person in your head and not being able to forget even though you know it’s hopeless and you’re never going to get what you want from them. I get that…so how can I get ticked at you for something you can’t help?”

“I don’t understand,” Luka confessed, trying to process XY’s words. “Are you saying you aren’t mad at me?”

XY shook his head. “I’m mad. Not really at you. More like…at the world for putting us in this situation. I’m trying to say that I understand…and I want you anyway.”

Luka’s eyes turned into egg-sized seas of white with a splash of ocean blue in the centers. “You…do?”

XY nodded, moving his hold on Luka’s arm down to Luka’s hand to give a bolstering squeeze. “I’ve never been so sure about anything. I don’t like the whole situation with Marinette and Adrien, but…I can learn to live with it, I think. I mean, if you’re honest with me. I want to know when you’re going to see them. No sneaking around behind my back and forgetting to mention it anymore.”

“Right,” Luka sighed, looking down, suitably chastened. “Sorry.”

“And I want to borrow one of your hoodies before Adrien gets back,” XY continued down his list of demands.

“O…kay,” Luka agreed disjointedly, not quite sure what the purpose of the clothing swap was.

“And you need to put on my jacket.” XY quickly whipped it off and shoved it at Luka. “You have to wear it the rest of the day, even after I leave and it’s just you and pretty boy and Hugo. Swear.”

“Ooooh,” Luka chuckled, realizing what was going on as he slipped on the jacket. “You’re marking me?”

“So that Adrien gets that he’s not the only one with a claim on you,” XY growled bitterly.

“All right,” Luka agreed. “I’ll wear the jacket the rest of the day if that’s what you want.”

XY nodded “And I want to make an announcement. You know. Officially start dating. Publicly.”

Luka’s eyes flew open in surprise. “Wait. You mean like you officially coming out to the media and your fans and-and your father?”

The immensity of this act was not lost upon Luka.

XY shrugged. “Dad already knows I like guys. He’s just had me keep it secret because he thinks it’ll hurt my ratings, but I don’t care. I want everyone to know you’re taken.”

Luka sucked in a breath. “I mean…everyone already knows I’m bi, so it doesn’t make a big difference for me, but, Xavier-Yves, coming out is kind of a big deal. People aren’t nice. You could lose a lot of fans. People could send you hate mail or write nasty messages on social media. I think you need to give this some more thought. This isn’t the kind of decision to make lightly.”

“You don’t want people to know we’re dating?” XY inferred, trying to keep the pain out of his voice.

Luka shook his head and gripped XY’s forearm. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Trust me. Random people whom you’ve never met before are going to make it their life’s mission to make your life hell. I’m not saying that we can’t publicly date if that’s what you decide you really want; I’m just trying to make sure that you go into this with your eyes open. Sometimes it really sucks to be different.”

XY bit his lip, letting Luka’s words sink in. “Maybe…Maybe we could secretly date for a little while before we come out.”

Luka nodded. “We can still go out in public together, see movies, get dinner. We just won’t put a public label on it until we’re ready.”

“Okay,” XY agreed, feeling better about that plan.

Luka hesitated before asking, “Not that I’m complaining, but…Xavier-Yves, are you really sure you want to date me? I’m afraid I’m just going to end up hurting you.”

“Luka, I want this,” XY insisted with determination burning in his eyes. “Maybe I will get hurt in the end, but…the plan was always to get you to fall in love with me. Maybe I’ll be able to win you from Adrien and Marinette after all. Maybe I’ll get over my jealousy and resentment towards them eventually. I don’t know. I just want to give this a chance, okay? I want you, and I want to make this work.”

Luka studied the resolute expression on XY’s face, seeing how serious he was.

He took a deep breath and nodded as he blew it out. “Okay. All right. Let’s make this work.”

He was taken by surprise as XY surged forward, knocking Luka down on the couch with a fierce kiss.

“I don’t want to lose you,” XY whispered against Luka’s lips when they took a break to catch their breath.

“Me either,” Luka concurred, surprised by how much he meant it. “Sorry if I screw this up.”

“I won’t let you,” XY snorted, going back to nibbling at Luka’s lips.

They wrapped up the make-out session ten minutes later so that XY could pick out one of Luka’s hoodies to borrow before Adrien and Hugo got back.

XY wasn’t opposed to Adrien walking in to find them lip-locked, but Luka had pointed out that Hugo didn’t need to see his father sucking on someone’s tonsils.

XY relented but insisted that Luka couldn’t straighten his hair or clothes completely so that he would still look tussled enough for Adrien to guess what they’d been doing.

“You are really jealous of Adrien, aren’t you?” Luka sighed, running a hand through his hair.

XY shrugged, snuggling up inside of Luka’s hoodie. “My boyfriend is in love with a literal model who’s smart enough to teach himself languages, has known my boyfriend longer and better than me, and who’s my boyfriend’s baby-daddy. Gee, Luka. I wonder why anyone would be insecure in that situation.”

Luka winced, scooping up XY’s hand and giving it a kiss. “Sorry.”

XY shrugged again, a tiny smile starting to pull at his lips. “It’s okay.”

There was a knock at the door, and Luka got up with a frown.

Adrien, with Hugo balanced on his hip, stood smiling tentatively out in the hallway.

“Do you not have your key?” Luka stepped out of the way to let Adrien back in.

XY held in a jealous hiss because of course Adrien had a key to Luka’s flat.

“Didn’t want to walk in on anything,” Adrien explained, quickly surveying the wardrobe swap and rumpled appearances of Luka and XY. “Make up sex or break up sex?”

XY was surprised to find that Adrien’s blasé attitude did not offer the satisfaction he’d been looking forward to.

“Neither,” Luka sighed, taking Hugo from Adrien’s arms and nuzzling his son’s hair. “Just kissing. Xavier-Yves and I are officially dating now.”

Adrien nodded, taking the announcement in stride. “Congratulations, Orpheus.”

The hair on the back of XY’s neck stood up at the earnest tone to his rival’s voice.

And then Adrien turned and gave XY a nod of acknowledgement. “You’ll have to meet Marinette. If you guys are official, we should spend some time together, the five us. Maybe Marinette and I could have you and Luka over for dinner on a night when my understudy is performing and Marinette isn’t staring down the barrel of a deadline and you guys don’t have concerts.”

“Uh…yeah. That would be great. Thanks,” XY cautiously agreed, trying to hide his surprise at being so readily included and introduced to the family. Part of him felt like this had to be a trap. Why was Adrien accepting him so easily?

“I’ll coordinate schedules,” Luka volunteered.

“Papa?” Hugo spoke up, breaking into the moment. “I need to go potty. Come with me, pwease?”

“Uh…” Luka blinked, looking back and forth between Adrien and XY as if trying to determine if it were safe to leave them alone together.

“I’ll go with you, Baby,” Adrien offered accommodatingly.

“No,” Hugo whimpered. “Papa.”

“It’s okay, Gogo,” Luka jumped in before the whimper could become an outburst of tears. “I’ll go with you.”

With one last worried glance at both Adrien and XY, Luka carried Hugo out of the living room, down the back hallway, and to the bathroom, all the while praying that his boyfriend and his lover didn’t get blood on the carpet.

“So,” Adrien sighed when Luka had gone, turning to face XY and sizing him up.

XY stood, crossing his arms and tipping his head to the side, trying to make himself look intimidating. “So?” he replied in a “wanna make something of it?” tone.

Adrien sighed again, carding a hand through his hair all the way to the back of his neck where it stayed. “I owe you an apology.”

XY arched an eyebrow, his trap senses tingling.

“I said some nasty things to you earlier, and it’s been bothering me,” Adrien confessed. “You’re not just a replacement to Luka to make up for the ways his relationship with me isn’t everything he wishes it were. That was horrible for me to say, even if you were a jerk first and I was angry. Luka cares about you a lot. You as a person. You make him happy, and I want Luka to be happy, so…I’m sorry. Can we please just find some way to make this work? You don’t have to like me, and I don’t have to like you, but can we work together to be civil so we don’t drive the guy we both adore nuts?”

XY let his arms drop to his sides where his hands slipped into the pocket of Luka’s hoodie. “…Yeah. Okay. That’s something I could get behind. I…I guess I owe you an apology too.”

Adrien’s eyes went wide. The last time he checked, Xavier-Yves Roth did not acknowledge personal wrongdoing and certainly didn’t offer apologies.

Maybe Luka was right and XY really had changed over the years.

XY’s shoulders scrunched up to his ears, and he looked away as he muttered. “I wasn’t very dope to you earlier. I thought I’d walked in on my boyfriend cheating on me with his ex, so…sorry for all the mean things I said. I’ll try not to be such a jerk now that I get the whole situation.”

Adrien nodded, happy with that concession. “I think that’s a good start. Maybe, someday, we’ll even be able to stand one another.”

XY gave a bark of a laugh and offered Adrien a tolerant smile. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Pretty Boy.”

Adrien grinned, preening. “Oh, you think I’m pretty? Thank you. You’re not too bad on the eyes now that you don’t look like you’ve got a broom growing out of your head.”

XY groaned, annoyed that he’d left an opening that wide with a sign practically inviting Adrien to trash talk him. He clicked his tongue. “Yeah, I think the day of us standing one another is long off.”

Adrien shrugged. “It doesn’t ever have to come so long as we behave for Luka’s sake.”

“I can do that,” XY agreed.

XY stayed for another hour and a half, playing instruments in the guestroom with Hugo until the two-year-old started getting cranky and had to be put down for a nap.

After he was gone, Adrien and Luka slumped down onto the couch, shoulder to shoulder.

“I tried really hard to like him, but I don’t,” Adrien sighed.

“He’s definitely an acquired taste,” Luka readily admitted. “It’s okay if you never actually like each other. Just, please, don’t bite each other’s heads off.”

Adrien made a face of disgust. “Ick. I’m mostly vegetarian, Love.”

“I know,” Luka chuckled, leaning in to swipe a kiss against Adrien’s temple.

“I’m going to keep trying,” Adrien decided with a tired sigh. “There must be something likable about him if you’re actually serious about dating him and being his friend.”

“I am. And there is,” Luka assured.

Adrien nodded. “Okay. Then, it’s settled. I’ll keep trying. If he’s going to be joining our family, we’ll need to get along. I want to get along for your sake as well as for the children. I mean, Hugo likes him, and I was actually impressed with how well he interacted with Hugo today, so…” Adrien trailed off frowning back at Luka as he realized that Luka was furrowing his brow at him. “What? What is it? Why are you frowning like that?”

“You said ‘children’. Plural,” Luka observed.

Adrien’s eyes went wide and then he grimaced. “Shoot. Marinette just told me, like, right before she left for Milan, as she was getting in the car to go to the airport, and she wanted to tell you together once she got back. I’m sorry for keeping it from you and now ruining the surprise, but…” A bright smile lit up Adrien’s entire face from the inside out as joy and excitement flooded his features. “We’re pregnant. Marinette’s already three months along. She kept it a secret because I reacted so badly to the miscarriage, so she wanted to wait until we were out of the woods, but…we’re going to have a baby.”

“Congratulations, Fifth,” Luka chuckled, pulling Adrien into a solid hug. “I’m so, so happy for you.”

Adrien pushed back and gave Luka a funny look. “Why are you congratulating me? It’s your baby too. Heck, you’re probably the biological father again. Probability is in your favour, honestly. I’m not sure if Marinette wants us telling people yet, but I’m thinking that your boyfriend counts as far as people who can know that you’re expecting a baby in six months. He might appreciate the heads up so that he can start brushing up on how to prepare a bottle and how to change a diaper. If he’s joining this family, he’s not getting off the hook for the not-fun bits.”

Luka burst out laughing and pulled Adrien in for another crushing hug. “Thank you. Thanks for embracing this so readily. I know this isn’t what you want, so I’m really grateful for you putting in so much effort just to make me happy.”

“I love you,” Adrien whispered gently. “If that means I have to let XY help raise my children…” Adrien shuddered. “God, I love you a whole lot, don’t I?”

Luka just laughed.

“I just have to keep reminding myself that he was really good with Hugo today,” Adrien sighed, snuggling into Luka.

He got a noseful of XY’s scent off of the jacket Luka was still wearing. “Ugh. He smells like toxic masculinity…and teakwood? And musk. Ugh. Sorry, but can you take that thing off?”

Luka shook his head, trying to keep down an amused smile. “My boyfriend made me promise to wear it for the rest of the day to make you jealous.”

Adrien’s eyes narrowed. “More like make me gag. I’m trying really hard to like your boyfriend, Luka, but he kind of sucks.”

#LuXY #luxyweek2k20 #Lukadrien #Lukadrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Luka Couffaine/XY Roth #Luka Couffaine #XY #Xavier-Yves Roth #Adrien Agreste #Hugo Agreste #Mikau's Writings #Welcome to La-La Land

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