#im not one of those people who can write thousands of words in a day and ive made peace with that
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every time I sit down and force myself to write even when I really don't feel like it I always end up pleasantly surprised by the outcome.
#ive learned not to stress so much over daily word count and that has helped too#ive scaled my daily goal down to a couple hundred words a day and it has made all the difference#i write more consistently without getting burnt out as often anymore#im not one of those people who can write thousands of words in a day and ive made peace with that#this isnt my job i literally do this free the only thing i get out of it is joy so if im not even getting that out of it whats the point?
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On the Ropes - ch. 27
Reunions.
Montgomery Gator x Reader
Freddy Fazbear x Reader?
This one has been a long time coming. Half the problem with updating a fic is remembering what the hell you wrote in the last chapters lol. Anyway, please let me know what you think. When I don't write for a while, I get anxious that my skills have deteriorated. :')
You can read the whole fic here on AO3
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Itâs a resounding, metallic 'SLAM!' that jumpstarts the heart of every staff member present in the locker room, wrenching them from their early-morning conversations. Someone even lets out an undignified yelp as each person turns their wide, startled eyes over to the origin of the explosive sound.
The eldest among them, Andy Flowers, with his arm held rigidly out in front of him, has his palm pressed flat to the door of his own locker, the same door thatâs still quivering in the wake of being hurled shut so viciously.
Through narrowed eyes, the old mechanic glares at the cold, silvery surface, trying very hard not to pivot his vitriol to the left.
Because standing at the mechanicâs side, making a valiant attempt to sink into the floor, is that jittery kid from the day-care, Hughie, casting nervous glances between Andyâs thunderous profile and the previously slammed locker door.
âUm,â he gulps â audible enough in the deafening silence that even those at the back of the room are privy to it, âI just⌠thought youâd want to know⌠S-Sir.â
And without another word, he ducks his head down into the collar of his shirt and spins clumsily about on a heel, scurrying from the room with as much dignity as a scolded dog.
Precisely three seconds pass after he vanishes, punctuated by the âticksâ of a dusty analogue clock that hangs in its spot above the entrance.
Then, slowly, somebody lets loose a long, drawn-out whistle.
âJesus, Andy,â Devon is the first â and bravest â to pipe up, continuing with his half-finished task of tugging a pair of overalls on over his clothes and grinning curiously at the back of Andyâs head, âThe Hellâd that poor bastard say to you?â
Gradually, people begin making an effort to at least pretend to resume getting ready for the day, though nobody dares murmur a word, far too nosy to let themselves talk over whatever the mechanicâs response might be.
When it comes, itâs disappointingly lacklustre for those whoâd been hoping for a little excitement to spice up their tedious morning.
Wearily, Andy just heaves an almighty sigh as his hand slides from the locker, thwacking noisily against his thigh.
âNothinâ I ainât already heard about a thousand times in the last coupleâa weeks,â he grumbles, âDamn gatorâs on the prowl.â
Should he apologise to HughieâŚ.?
Yeah⌠Yeah, he probably ought to. Not the kidâs fault he was picked to be Montgomeryâs messenger of the day.
âAh,â Devonâs expression opens up, comprehension dawning in the form of a knowing smirk, âHeâs after you again, is he?â
Muttering something uncouth, Andy turns and tugs the brim of his hat down, hiding from the looks his colleagues shoot him as he stalks from the locker room and tries to ignore the murmurs that follow him into the hall.
It isnât just words that trail after him.
âCanât be bothered to find me himself, so he sends some kid to do it for âim,â he complains to the tapping of sneakered shoes that trot lightly up to his side.
âIÂ think itâs sweet.â
Andy blinks, cocking a brow and swivelling his head around to eye the little blonde traipsing along beside him.
Ah, Chelsea. Sweet, candid Chelsea. Dumb as a box of rocks who canât tell a sprocket from a spur, but a damn hard worker all the same, and likeable enough that Andy finds heâs not put out by her company. At least now she knows which end of a hammer to hit the nail with. There was a time when she first started at the Plex that nobody was really sure she did.
As her words finally break through the haze of Andyâs early-morning ruminations, he gives a start and pulls his lips into a wrinkled grimace. âSânot sweet,â he sputters on the word like it has a foul taste, âItâs weird.â
And thatâs putting it mildly.
The six-week mark since your little workplace âaccidentâ is fast approaching, and the poor mechanic hasnât known a moment of peace since it began.Â
Itâs bad enough having the gator pester him all over the building for updates on your condition like there isnât a patient wire in that big, blundering frame of his, but on top of that very persistent thorn in Andyâs side, heâs also been running around after the other animatronics, most of whom seem to have unanimously decided to make this the month they let their firewalls go kaput. That itâs the same month you just so happen to be out of commission is a bitch of a coincidence.
Screwing up his face to crinkle it even further, Andy lets out a huff, glowering at the dim, red lights lining the wall as he marches past and absently grunts to himself, âAll the bots have been actinâ weird.â
Still trailing along at his side, Chelseaâs lips purse and she shoots him a peculiar frown. âLike, weird how?â
How indeed.
Steering around a sharp bend, Andy throws his arms up in a half shrug, half gesture of sheer exasperation. âI donât know! It-! Itâs like theyâve all been sulkinâ!â he declares gruffly, failing to note a bemused Chelsea stepping slightly out of his circumference, âRoxanne spends more and more time in her green room in frontâa that mirror. The day care attendants havenât even mentioned Y/n, which is weird, and just yesterday, I had to tell Chica to get outta the kitchen trash. Twice!â
âChicaâs always looking for leftovers,â she shrugs, trying to remember the last time she heard the mechanic talk this much. He probably just needs a holiday.
âYeah,â he stresses, âBut usually I only catch her once a week. I tell her to knock it off, and she does⌠Least till she âforgetsâ what I said.â
Heaving out his tension through a brusque sigh, Andy raises his head again and sniffs, âLeast Freddyâs not on the fritz.â
âGolden boy,â Chelsea hums with a sage nod.
Almost as soon as his expression relaxes however, it springs right back into a tight, puckered scowl. âBut that gator, jeezusâŚâ he hisses, scrubbing a weathered palm harshly down his face, âHeâs been drivinâ me to drink. Itâs like heâs⌠heâs-â
âPining,â she finishes for him.
And god, he wishes there was another word for it, really he does, but sheâs hit the nail on the head.
That damn gator, an animatronic with the term âmiscreantâ written directly into his coding, is pining after his favourite cleaning lady like a schoolboy with a crush.
Lifting his hands once more, Andy buries his face into the calloused skin on his palms for a moment, pressing them against his eyes in a vain effort to try and squeeze some of the weariness out of them. âMâgetting too old for this shit,â he groans.
âFor what? Your job?â Chelsea asks innocently, and itâs almost enough to startle a bark of laughter out of him.
Yeah. Sure, his job. Why not?
Before he can respond, sheâs already carrying on. âYou know, my grandpa retired a few months ago, and he says itâs the best thing he ever did.â Pausing, she flashes Andy a sunny grin. âMaybe you could retire!â
âŚÂ Charming.
Well, he did say heâs getting oldâŚ
âThanks, Chels,â the mechanic huffs, squeezing out a thin smile of his own, eyes narrowed, âIâll uh⌠keep that in mind.â
âNo sweat,â she chirps, slowing to a halt at the tunnelâs junction and tossing her thumb at an adjoining stairwell, âWell, this is my stop. Iâm on stage duty. See you later Mister Flowers!â
Lazily, Andy raises a hand to wave her off as she bounds up the metal stairs with far too much pep in her step for such an ungodly hour.
Alone once more, the old mechanic shakes his head and turns another corner, making for his first duty of the day â Babysitting their newest techie, Chase.
Polite enough kid, Andy supposes, kind of nosy but, hell, heâs trained up worse.
At least the new guy doesnât ask half as many questions as that impertinent, pushy GatorâŚ
Five weeks⌠Itâs been five and a half, arduous weeks since your accident, and to your credit, you seem to have actually listened to medical advice and opted to stay home, letting Andy run groceries up to your apartment every week and belligerently refusing to let him pay for any of it.
Stubborn kid.
Still, at least he can take some solace in the fact that youâve been spending some much-needed time away from the Plex and all her hazards. And while heâs certainly glad of that, he canât deny that the unexpected side-effects of your absence have beenâŚÂ wearing.
Seems somebody gave Montgomery the bright idea that if he wants information on you, his best port-of-call is good olâ Andy Flowers, apparent font of all knowledge and mechanic-turned-messenger.
Every. Single. Day. Itâs been a relentless slog of questions piled up on questions, all pertaining to you.
âHow is she?â
âSheâs okay, right?â
âYou seeinâ her today?â
âYou think sheâs cominâ back soon?â
Andyâs running low on hair to tear out.
Well, if that gator wants to find him again and cycle through his usual rota of queries with all the tact of a fawning teenager, heâs going to have to damn well track Andy down himself instead of pestering the other staff members to do it for him.
âBesides,â the mechanic muses, hitching up his belt and trying not to let the fond quirk of his lips overtake his scowl, âthereâs a particularly good reason to avoid Montgomery Gator today.â
Heâd hate to spoil the surprise.
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There are a great many things that Freddy Fazbear enjoys about his role in the Megaplex.
Among the majority; hosting birthday parties, signing the remarkable pieces of artwork children bring him, performing on stage alongside his very dear friends⌠But one of the rarer duties, one he doesnât often get called up for, is perhaps his favourite due in part to its infrequence.
It isnât every day heâs allowed to be a greeter.
âGood morning, Sir!â Freddy chimes pleasantly, no less chipper to say it now than he was an hour ago, âI hope you have a wonderful time here at Fazbearâs Mega Pizzaplex!â
A frazzled man with a five-o-clock shadow pauses at the edge of the lobby's turnstiles, glancing up at Freddy as though heâs only just clocked the bearâs presence. Just ahead of him, charging ahead with their tickets clutched in possessive fists, are a gaggle of children who careen past Freddy without sparing him so much as a passing glance. racing each other for the escalator that will take them first to the atrium, and then on towards the arcade.
Freddyâs speakers buzz with a chuckle.
Their enthusiasm is nice to see. Besides, theyâre older, a few years senior of the pre-teens and tots who are typically drawn to his teddy-bear appeal.
Their father and sole guardian, one Doctor Colin Timpson, staggers after them in a daze, far less equipped to face the school holidays than his children are. He, at least, manages to offer Freddy a polite tip of his head in acknowledgement, eyes heavy lidded behind his glasses.
And, well, what kind of a frontman would he be if the face of Fazbear Inc. couldnât lend a helping paw every once in a while?
âSir?â he calls, popping open a small compartment hidden underneath his forearm, âHere, I insist.â
As Doctor Timpson watches curiously, Freddy reaches in with two claws and carefully pulls out a small slip of paper, no thicker than a receipt.
âPlease, enjoy a complimentary caffeinated beverage from any of our fine eating establishments,â he rattles off his well-practiced spiel, holding the coveted voucher out and noticing how the manâs eyes light up at the mere sight of it.
âOh!â he blinks, gingerly taking the paper from Freddyâs paw and peering down at it like heâs been handed a bar of gold bullion. Then, tilting his head up, he offers a real, genuine smile and nods, âMuch obliged, Freddy.â
Who of course replies, âThink nothing of it,â his optics squinted happily shut.
Waving after the manâs retreating back, he resumes his usual post, turning to see who else might walk through those turnstiles today.
When Mick announced that the usual S.T.A.F.F greeter bot had experienced an unfortune and unforeseen malfunction, Freddy almost leapt at the chance to offer his assistance.
Thereâs nothing that quite compares to the surprise and delight heâs met with when guests enter to find The Freddy Fazbear standing there to meet them.
âHi, Freddy,â a well-dressed lady drawls as she floats past him.
âWelcome back, Maâam,â he returns in kind, rocking idly on his struts and sweeping an arm out towards the lobby behind him, âHave a pleasant day.â
Itâs nice to have this distraction, a constant flow of familiar and unfamiliar faces keeping his processor occupied and away fromâŚÂ other matters.
It has been a⌠challenging few weeks, convincing himself to stop fretting about you.
Youâre an esteemed colleague, after all, and a very capable one at that.
But every now and again, in the downtime between shows or after the metal doors to the Plex rattle shut at the end of a long, noisy day and Freddy is left alone in his recharge station, he canât quite refrain from pulling up your employee profile in the corner of his HUD and gazing fondly at it for⌠perhaps a little longer than would be deemed appropriate.
Freddy likes all of the staff. He likes all of the guests too. Heâd be a pretty poor face-man for the company if he didnât endeavour to get along with everybody, after all.
And yet, for the first time in recent memory, Freddy has found himself increasingly dedicating more and more of his CPU power to one particular individual.
Heâll admit, he first came to like you by proxy, through Montyâs gruff but undeniably favourable narrative surrounding you, way back when he joined Freddy, Chica and Roxy for Jazzercise all those weeks ago.
You were good to his bandmate from the get-go.
Freddyâs programming has always left him with a predisposition to ensure the well-being of any human heâs in contact with, and he likes to think heâd be much the same even if it wasnât hardwired into his every node - that it isnât just simulated but natural that heâs inclined to care.
He certainly cares about you, thatâs for sure.
âHey! Itâs Freddy!â
The bear is tugged once more from his musings by a gaggle of children â all of whom bound over to him with varying squeals of excitement.
He, of course, is only too happy to return their eagerness, bending down on one knee to offer high-fives, a few exceptionally gentle hugs and cheerful greetings to each tiny guest.
They, like the others before them, are quick to move on once theyâve been ushered along by their accompanying adults, unable to resist the lure of those bright, neon lights and the promise of prizes waiting for them deeper inside the Plex.
Again, Freddy doesnât mind in the least.
Straightening back up to his full height, the bearâs ears perk forwards and his optics slip shut, content to let his processor slip into thoughts of you once more.
He has to wonder â has been wondering more and more of late â how youâre faring on your own, with your leg.
It would be remiss of him to deny the concern thatâs sunk its tendrils into his chassis and refuses to budge. Mr Flowers has repeatedly reminded the bear not to fuss so much butâŚ
Is it such a bad thing?
You, after all, demonstrated an alarming lack of self-preservation, both in climbing that ladder without the proper safety equipment and again when you came into work the day after suffering a major workplace accident.
Thousands of little scripts run rapid-fire across Freddyâs processor.
âAre you behaving responsibly?â
âAre you in pain? Taking care of yourself?â
And then, more latterly⌠âDo you miss the Plex?â
Well âthe Plexâ is certainly missing youâŚ
âGood morning, Mister Fazbear.â
Almost automatically at this point, Freddy raises a big, careful paw up to his top hat and catches the brim between his thumb and forefinger, politely lifting it from his head.
âGood morning Miss L/n!â he says with a pleasant hum before swivelling back to the turnstiles.
Yes, he concludes, things just arenât quite the same around here in your absence. It seems⌠dimmer, somehow, like the walls themselves donât hold the same lustre without you in them. Heâs only sorry it had taken him as long as it did to finally introduce himself to-âŚ
⌠Every single thought flitting through the animatronicâs processor comes screeching to a glitched, static halt.
Then, fast enough to send the gears in his neck spinning violently in an effort to match the speed of his motors, the bear wrenches his head towards the lobby, optics flying open to their fullest extent when they land on the back of a familiar figure.
âY/n!?â he blurts out far too loudly, forgetting to control the output of his speakers.
All at once, his chronometer falls off-kilter, the Plex around him blurs into a mess of colour and abstract shapes, and suddenly, all Freddy can see is you, turning to face him with that stretch to your lips that heâs missed so much - friendly and amused and crooked higher on one side.
"Freddy," you return, politely holding back a laugh.
Of their own accord, the pistons in his legs thrust him into an unsteady march just before the elation and sheer, palpable relief have a chance to short-circuit his systems.
He barely notices that heâs begun to grin, not even when a small warning light tries to alert him that his jaws are under increasing strain as his smile turns into a cheek-bursting beam.
âYouâre back!?â he exclaims giddily through a laugh, stampeding towards you at such a rate that your expression begins to falter.
 âFreddy?â you call, then a little more urgently, âFreddy! Woah, hey! Fre-!â
The Glamrock is on top of you before you can get the last word out.
Colossal paws â gentle but effortlessly strong â slip around your waist, and without even slowing his stride, Freddy Fazbear sweeps you clean off your feet.
âFreddy!â you protest shrilly, bracing your hands on his forearms as he belts out a hearty laugh and spins you in a wide, graceful circle, the ears atop his head springing forwards with unabashed delight.
Anyone watching the display would be hard pressed to say which of the two is giddier; Fazbearâs own mascot, or the poor cleaning lady heâs twirling around like an over-enthused child with their doll.
Colours and shapes blear past you in a haze as the animatronic continues swinging you around to complete a second circle, all the while gushing out a veritable slew of words that barely register through your shock.
âIt is so wonderful to see you!â heâs announcing to the whole, damn building, âWeâve missed you terribly! Are you well!?â Blessedly for your head, the spinning slows down by a degree and he adds, âYou look well. Your leg must be just â Oh! Your leg!â
No sooner does your impromptu flight begin than it comes crashing to a halt, though the room continues to tilt a little as your brain catches up with itself. Only once your vision steadies do you catch your first, proper glimpse of Freddyâs face.
If ever there was a time when an animatronic looked like it might actually be sick, this is it.
Beyond mortified, the bear sets you gently onto safe, solid ground once more, his plastic brows twisted up at the centre of his forehead.
âI am so, so very sorry, my Dear,â he rushes out, his palms still pressed securely around your waist, âI donât know what came over me! I should have considered -! Are you alright!?â
Dizzy, but no worse for wear, you give your head a quick shake to resettle it, blinking the bear into proper focus and offering him a patient smile.
âNo harm done,â you tell him kindly, easing the frantic bot back from the edge of a system reboot, âItâs nice to know Iâve been missed.â
Freddy stares at you, eyebrows still furrowed even as he opens his mouth and a startled laugh bursts from his speakers. In disbelief, he pulls the sides of his jaws up, raising the shiny, plastic apples of his cheeks until his optics are almost squeezed shut. âMore than you could possibly know,â he utters softly, and itâs so, damnably genuine that you have to duck your head to break eye contact, your own smile widening to mimic his, try as you might to keep it under control.
âHigh praise coming from The Freddy Fazbear,â you shoot back, squirming inside your own skin at the unexpected sincerity.
Falling silent, Freddyâs lenses spin quietly as he drinks you in from the top of your head to the hem of your shirt, only stopping once his optics have reached your leg.
The cast is gone, he registers first. And thatâs a good sign, heâs sure, a sign of progress, of healing.
Ears waggling eagerly, Freddy opens his mouth, prepared to bombast you with a long tirade of queries when â
âAhem!â
Suddenly, the rest of the world comes crashing back in on you, and the pair of you recall that youâre not the only two people in the Plex.
Freddy straightens up like a shot as you both spring away from each other like a couple of teenagers caught doing something untoward in the school hallway.
Thereâs a lady standing at the turnstiles, her lips drawn thinly and a young girl balanced on her hip.
âSorry to interrupt,â she begins, flicking a glance between you and the animatronic, one of her slender brows cocked. âI was hoping to get a picture of Freddy with Madison?â Knocking her head sideways towards the girl, she adds, âSheâs a big fan.â
As your eyes and Freddyâs optics glance at her, the poor kid immediately blanches and buries her face in her motherâs neck.
With a mere whir of his motors, Freddy glides seamlessly back into the very model of congeniality that heâs so famous for.
Itâs endearing to witness the Glamrock in his element.
Bowing slightly to be closer to the womanâs height â and by extent her chargeâs â he sweeps an enormous paw out in invitation, humming, âIt would be my absolute pleasure.â
The woman eyes him carefully for a moment, and you almost think sheâs going to reconsider before her shoulders drop and she gives a quick, satisfied nod, then busies herself with coaxing the child out of her arms.
While sheâs preoccupied, Freddy tilts his head towards you and catches your eye, his azure optics glimmering prettily under the bright overheads.
âI shall catch up with you later,â he promises, one ear swivelling about to point at you, âAh, presuming you plan to stay for a while, that is.â
Throwing your thumb up at him, you reply, âIâm not on shift until next week, but I was going stir-crazy at home so, I think Iâm gonna stick around for a bit. Iâll see you soon, okay?â
The animatronicâs grin seems to stretch his plastic casing to its limit until you nearly start to worry that heâll pull a gear loose if he keeps it up.
âOkay,â he confirms with a hearty wave of his arm, beaming from ear to rounded ear.
Returning the gesture, you begin to pivot away from him towards the escalators when he calls after you again, stopping you in your tracks.
âOh, and Miss L/n, if I mayâŚâ
Shooting a curious glance over your shoulder, you catch him peering back at you with a tilt to his head and hooded optics, one eyebrow slanted a little higher than the other up his forehead. Itâs a knowing look, almost smug, though you donât immediately parse its meaning, not until Freddy bobs his chin towards the upper floor and rumbles, âHeâs supposed to be down in Parts and Service having some routine maintenance done. I would check there first.â
Thatâs enough to give you pause, and you raise an incredulous brow at the bear. âWillingly?â
If you didnât know any better, youâd be tempted to say the look he sends you in return is borderline sly. But thatâs impossible.
âSlyâ and âFreddyâ are about as far apart as a shout is from a whisper.
Even so, the animatronic gives one optic a lazy wink and hums, âVoluntarily.â
Youâre not an idiot, and neither, apparently, is Freddy.
You both know exactly who heâs talking about.
For all his simulated cluelessness and boy-next-door integrity, Freddy would attest that there are the odd occasions where he can surprise with how much he actually notices. But then, heâd have to actually be in recharge to miss the way you and Montgomery behave when youâre together, like twin moons in the same orbit, constantly circling each other, both just as hesitant to catch up, though one seems far more desperate for the bond to take than its counterpart.
As you send him a faux glower, softened by the lopsided smile pushing at your cheeks, Freddy chuckles warmly and makes a note to track you down again after the last stragglers arrive for the mid-morning show.
If you thought he was happy to see you, just you wait.
You have no idea whatâs in store for you down in Parts and Service...
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Thereâs a well-established principle in the Plex, one held by both the staff and by the animatronic himself, that Montgomery Gator is not a bot whoâs easy to trust. And he, in turn, trusts so rarely that he could count on one hand the number of people heâs willing to rely upon. Hell, he could count on one finger and that number would be the same.
If there was ever anybody heâd want poking around inside his mechanisms, it certainly wouldnât be any of the engineers or mechanics. It wouldnât be Flowers, or Devon or even the new hire, Chase, who at this very moment, is bent over Montyâs forearm with a flathead screwdriver clutched inside a thick, rubber glove, face balled up tight as he works to loosen a stubborn screw.
Montyâs expression, by contrast, is as blank as an untouched sheet of paper, and he gazes up at the blindingly bright overheads set into the ceiling of the protective cylinder, his optics dim and bleak behind his glasses.
He doesnât like this. Doesnât like that the new hire has been left alone with him inside a sealed tube. Doesnât like that thereâs a boiling-hot mug of coffee perched on the workbench nearby. Doesnât like how Chaseâs palms are sweaty against his plastic casing.Â
The gator is keeping his jaws locked together so tightly that his systems have begun to ping at him, warning of the sustained pressure.
He should probably ease itâŚ
What happened with Matthews isnât going to happen again, he reminds himself starkly. Heâs not the same gator as he was when Mick was the one doing repairs. And Chase is just some poor rookie that management have saddled with the task of running diagnostics on the Plexâs most volatile animatronicâŚ
How quickly they forget, he nearly scoffs.
He reckons he ought to be grateful that his CPU is online, at the very least, even if he is starting to feel more ghost than animatronic as the rookie blithely works around him, oblivious to his clenching hands and gritted teeth.
Still, he can only think of one person heâd willingly allow close enough to perform a routine maintenance check, but sadly, said person is on the other side of the city whilst he remains stuck on the inside of a glorified, glass jar, strapped down tight to a gurney and anxious for Chase to hurry up and remove the panel on his plastic arm.
In an attempt to take his processor off the procedure, Monty turns it instead to the birthday party heâll be hosting in just a couple of hours.
Heâs been booked in for a lot of them lately, almost as many as Chica has this month aloneâŚ.
Monty might be an arrogant bot by his own admission, but heâs not about to do the disservice of pretending that you didnât have a hand in his much-improved public image.
Blinking his optics up at the wires and hoses dangling from the ceiling, he belatedly wonders if youâd be proud.
Unnoticed by the new hire, Montyâs shoulder struts begin to droop, though it isnât the prospect of your pride that causes him to wilt. Itâs the thought of you at all.
For the umpteenth time, heâs fallen into a trap of his own making. Heâs allowed his processor, however briefly, to drift towards thoughts of you.
âBad idea,â a surly voice grunts in his audials, suspiciously reminiscent of a grumpy mechanic heâs acquainted with.
Grumbling to himself, Monty turns his focus outwards once more, thumping his tail absently against the side of the gurney beneath him for no other reason than to keep the appendage busy.
Damn thing has a mind of its own whenever he gets to thinking about you.
âUhhh.. Is that meant to be happening?â
The hoarse voice of the rookie pulls his swimming CPU to the surface, and he spares a quick glance over to his pre-assigned technician to find him leaning back cautiously, his eyes staring down at Montyâs tail.
With a grimace, the gator diverts power from the motors inside it, and it falls obediently still.
âDonât worry about it,â he grunts, âHappens sometimes.â
Without missing a beat, Chase draws his brows together and mumbles, more to himself than to the gator, âIâd better take a look at the mechanisms. Reckon I can stop it from moving around so much.â
A sudden snap of leather nearly sends him reeling over backwards as Monty lurches upright on the gurney with a snarl, his wrists snagged by the straps that keep him from lunging too far. âI'd like to see you try,â he growls venomously, straining against his binds.
Almost at once, the engineerâs hands fly up in acquiescence. âWoah, woah! Okay! Sorry, Pal!â he laughs disjointedly, âJust trying to be helpful. If you say âno,â itâs no. I hear you.â
Circuits screaming in alarm, Monty glares hard at the human beside him for a moment before his optics venture down to eyeball the screwdriver still clutched between Chaseâs oil-slicked fingers.
Following his stare, the man gives a thoughtful hum, then slowly turns and places the screwdriver very deliberately down on the workbench beside his mug, a move the gator watches with rapt attention.
With his back to the gurney, Chase heaves a quiet sigh, reaching up to rub a hand over the nape of his neck, smoothing down the shaved bristles of hair that have begun a gradient from mousy-brown to grey. âPushed some kind of boundary there, huh big fellaâ?â he murmurs, an apology wedged between his words.
Monty blinks, surprised heâd noticed. Little by little, the animatronic eases back down onto the hard, unforgiving surface below him, drawing his lips down over his teeth. âYeah,â he huffs uncertainly, âSomethinâ like thatâŚâ
A curious frown twitches at the man's expression and he aims it into the dark, brown liquid sitting inside his coffee mug, eyes trailing after the steam that rises from it. âYou can make decisions for yourself.... Huh.â Turning around, he leans his spine against the table and, to his credit, manages to look the gator in his optic, mouth pulled back in an apologetic wince. â They told me how advanced your AI is, butâŚI guess I forgot.â
âWell donât.â Montyâs voice drips sharp and cold, ringing through the tinny room like a warning. And it is just that. A warning. But itâs also only a warning. If this idiot had any idea that only a month ago, the gator might have done something far worse in response to a threat to what little autonomy he has left, heâd likely put in his two weeks then and there.
Suddenly, Monty pauses, taken aback by his own revelation.
Heâd have done something worseâŚ
He didnât this time though, did he? In fact, there have been a lot of times over these past few weeks where his rage has been difficult to summon. Freddy stealing the spotlight in the shows, Roxy's constant taunts and jabs that all serve to remind him that she has yet to forgive him entirely for lashing out at Chica in his unconscious rage. Even Matthews hasn't been able to get under his casing as much as he usually would, though the gator has been going out of his way to avoid the man altogether, half afraid that he'll give away how perilously close he came to being discovered in your flat.
He's been reminding himself consistently that if he slips up again, he really does have something to lose. And so, he's been making damned sure to keep his snout out of trouble.
Softly, the bot lets out a resigned chuff and sinks his head back onto the gurney.
Your influence, no doubt.
âI-Iâll try to get better,â Chase is stammering over his words, only a little, but enough that the gatorâs chest cavity twinges guiltily, âI promise, I only want to do good here.â
Montgomery, however, is too busy staring into space to pay much attention.
Absently, he lowers his optics until theyâre pointed right at the place on the end of his nose where, not so long ago, heâd been lucky enough to feel the press of something warmer and more delicate than anything heâs experienced since the day he was brought online.
Before every show and party, Monty has taken to sprucing himself up using the wipes and cloths he borrowed from your cleaning closet down in the maintenance tunnels. For hours, heâs content to sit in his room and polish his casing until heâs gleaming, every tooth, every claw, every inch.
Every inch⌠save for one.
Rumbling out a resonant hum, the gator fights against the twitch of his lips and simply sighs, releasing a hot blast of air through the vents under his nostrils. He can almost hear your voice in his audials now.
âCut Chase some slack, Monty,â youâd probably say, âHeâs new. Give him a chance.â
Yeah, that sounds like you.
Hell, didn't you give a chance to the Monster of the Plex...?
Peeling his jaws apart to let out another sigh, the gator looks to Chase and catches the nervous indent where heâs gnawing on the inside of his cheek, the twist of his brows and the flash of his throat when he swallows audibly.
And then he recalls what Andy had said to him in his green room, just before he sat the gator down and introduced him to the new guy.
âShe trusts you,â heâd uttered sternly, looking Monty square in the optics. Neither of them needed clarification on who âsheâ might have been. âSo Iâm gonna trust you to behave yourself while you're in that cylinder with Chase.â Which had been such a shock to hear that heâd immediately run a test to check his audio input was in working order.
âDonât let us down, Gator.â
Montgomery isnât easy to trust.
But Andy Flowers⌠the man who has put more volts through Montyâs frame than any other employee at the Plex, had just handed him an olive branch.
What the Hell was Monty supposed to do other than nod his head dumbly and utter a feeble, âI wonâtâŚâ
With the memory fresh in his storage banks, he bites his pride on the neck and forces it down to the ground, flicking his optics back over to Chase.
âYouâre doinâ fine,â he grunts, watching the human perk up at his words, âJust⌠stick to regular maintenance today. Aâright?â
âYeah? Yeah!â Chaseâs eyes light up as he flashes a lopsided grin, showing off his gap-toothed smile that reminds Monty of those kids who get into scraps in their schoolyard.
âIâll get right back to it. But, uhâŚâ Hesitantly, the engineer gestures down at Montyâs arm with the end of his screwdriver, âIâm not getting into that hatch with this thing⌠Dunno how you jammed it so badly, but Iâm gonna need a tool kit if I wanna take a look under the hood.â
Figures. Itâs never an easy fixâŚ
The pocket of space below the panel in Montyâs arm is usually reserved for vouchers and coupons that heâll hand out to those who impress him in his golfing challenge. As for how it got dented enough that the panel was wedged immovably shutâŚ
Well⌠The next time Roxy feels like poking fun at him for âdaydreaming about his girlfriendâ, heâll have to settle for a verbal rebuttal. Slamming his forearm into her neck and pinning her to the wall wasnât one of his better ideas.Â
Not least because Freddy hadnât shut up about it for a weekâŚ
âBeats me how it happened,â he grumbles evasively, flapping what little he can of his hand at the cylinder door, âGâon. Go ahead. Ainât like I got any place to be.â
Soft, brown eyes widen gratefully as Chase backs out of the protective chamber, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. âThanks, Pal. Wonât be long, just sit tight, okay.â
â⌠Iâll do my best,â Monty retorts flatly, giving his wrists a gentle tug and rattling the straps indicatively. He doesn't bother reminding the man that he's about as far from a 'pal' as he could get.
Chaseâs sheepish chuckle echoes around an empty Parts and Services as he dashes out through the red, double doors at the end of the room and disappears from view.
Squeaking on their hinges, the doors swing shut in his wake, and at last, Monty is left alone on a gurney with nobody but himself for companyâŚ
âHmph. Better not take too long,â he gripes to the deserted room.
Left to stew inside his own head, itâs almost inevitable that after just a couple of minutes his thoughts would return to one subject in particular.
He wishes heâd remembered to ask Flowers how your recovery is coming along. But earlier, Andy had caught him off guard with the âtrustâ comment, and every coherent question heâd meant to posit had promptly fled his processor.
Five weeks⌠How has it only been five weeks since he last saw you?
Five weeks, three days, eleven hours, twenty-five minutes, and thirty-two secondsâŚ
Thirty-three secondsâŚ
Thirty-
The gator bares his teeth with a snarl of vexation, wrenching his focus from the time ticking away on his HUD.
Heâd been naĂŻve in the beginning, convinced himself heâd make it through your absence without much trouble at all. He had, after all, managed to get along just fine before you stepped foot inside his green room.
He was fine. It was all fine.
.. Just fineâŚ
But then you had to come along and spoil him, didnât you. Yet the thing of it is, there isnât any part of him thatâs willing to resent you for it.
Thereâs a dopey grin tugging at the silicone of his lips, but by the time he even realises itâs there, his audials are picking up the sound of a mechanical rumble and the shrill, musical âding!â of an elevator door sliding open behind him.
Great. Someone else come to witness him in this undignified position.
Monty slumps, scowling hard at the ceiling through the purple tint of his sunglasses as a pair of shoes taps closer and closer to the protective cylinder.
Perhaps itâs only Chase, he muses. Stupid human must have gotten turned around in the maintenance tunnels and resorted to using one of the service elevators to find his way back down here.
âWhatâdâyou get lost?â he huffs, hardly bothering to lift his head as a shadow passes by in the corner of his eye, âTook your damn time by the way.â
Heâs met with silence, and the padding footsteps draw to a halt right at the door to the cylinder.
ThenâŚ
âSorry, Big Guy. You know Iâd have come sooner if I could.â
No... No way.
The gear-wheel in his neck spins frantically as Montyâs head shoots straight off the gurney. Heâs almost certain that heâs hearing things, that thereâs a feedback loop in his CPU playing an echo of that oh-so familiar voice in his audials.
He has to blink his shutters a few times to be sure, but when they open again, he knows thereâs no mistaking his visual feed. Not even a perfect recording could adequately mirror the real thing.
Standing in the entrance to his temporary prison, haloed by the lights of Parts and Service, is a sight more heavenly than any seraphim or celestial body.
Several primary motors kick loudly into gear and the binds holding him down go taut with a âtwang!â as he hoists himself further up on the gurney, the corners of his jagged mouth inching higher and higher with every moment that passes him by. âLady!?â he rasps.
You struggle not to let out an audible sigh of relief at finding him in one piece after all this time.
With a knowing smile, you fold your arms and lean a hip against the side of the entrance, one eyebrow playfully cocked. âYou were expecting someone else?â
In that moment, he forgets everything heâd planned to say upon your return. He forgets that heâd meant to remain a cool, collected alligator who would greet you with a wink and a disarming smile, maybe even brandish a gift that would welcome you back without having to say the words he keeps locked safely behind his teeth.
Heâs missed you. Heâs missed you so much.
The tether thatâs been keeping him inextricably bound to you across the vast distance of the city suddenly seems so much shorter, and without taking his sparkling optics off your face, Montgomery begins to pull at his restraints, those designed to keep a three-tonne animatronic tied down without a fuss.
He pays them no mind. Theyâre nothing. Not obstacles. Not even deterrents. Not when the very person heâs been waiting for for so long is standing right in front of him, just out of reach, and the only thing ricocheting around inside his processor is that he has to get to you. Now.
Heâs grinning too widely, and his motors are purring too loudly for him to hear you as your face falls and you push yourself away from the open cylinder door, blurting out, âWait, wait! Monty just a second, let me get the straps-!â
The reinforced leather squeaks for just a moment against the plastic of his wrists, then with a loud âSnap!â the pieces fly apart, and Monty is suddenly lunging up from the gurney, swinging his legs down and landing on the floor with such a force that the glass windows surrounding him quiver in their frames.
He doesnât even register that youâve taken an instinctive step backwards as he barrels towards you like a runaway train. Thereâs no time for you to get far, of course.
âLady!â he bellows again through a laugh, his speakers straining at the volume. And in the next instant, the gator is upon you.
You half expect to be hauled off your feet once more, as you had been twenty minutes ago with Freddy.
Instead, you let out a yelp as the gator throws one arm around your back and curls the other up to cup a hand over the back of your head, wrenching you into his rigid torso and trapping you in the space between his arms and his chest.
The air is knocked soundly from your lungs whilst he folds himself over you, a quaking, thundering cage of metal and plastic that clings possessively to its favourite inmate.
âYou came back!â he declares unsteadily as he curves his head down to pin his lower jaw against your spine, optics squeezed shut, âYou came back.â
Twisting your face sideways to get in a gulp of air, you let out a muffled laugh and pat the seam of his hatch. âCourse I came back. I told you, six weeks.â
âSâonly been five,â he recounts, not that heâs complaining. Not in the slightest.
âYeah, well⌠They let me out early for good behaviour.â
Thereâs that warmth in your tone, indicative of â fondness â friendship â familiarity â that heâs been craving to hear again, not just from the recordings heâs saved of your voice.
âDonât stop.â He has to choke on the words for fear of speaking them aloud, âKeep talking.â
After a few seconds, he notices the brush of your comparatively tiny arms sliding around his broad chest, not quite long enough to meet at the centre of his back, yet more than adequate to let him know that this moment isnât solely for him.
âSo, didnât miss me too badly then?â you ask from somewhere within the safety of his embrace.
âNo,â his stubborn pride grumbles, whereas everything else in him seems to howl out a resounding, âlike you wouldnât believe.â
âEh,â he settles on instead, a safe enough middle-ground. At least it makes you laugh. Besides, heâs pretty sure you can read between the lines. After all, heâs still draped around you like a big, green cloak. That much is a little harder to disregard.
Itâs with immense reluctance that he eventually loosens the pistons in his brutish arms and allows you to lean back so he can get a good look at you.Â
He should probably say something⌠Something witty, something smart thatâll smooth over the blunder of being caught off guard.
Montyâs jaws part slightly as he gazes down at you, his optics raking over your face and committing this latest instance of you firmly in his memory banks.
â⌠Hey,â he murmurs lamely.
A flash of teeth, and youâre beaming. At him. And he realises right then and there that every second heâs spent waiting to see you again was entirely worth it.
âHi,â you retort.
He doesnât mean for it to happen, but the abrupt thrum of a bellow kicks out of his speakers too quickly for him to mute the feedback.
In turn, you jump under his arms, quirking a brow at the gatorâs chest.
Itâs all he can do to turn the sound into a gruff cough, ducking under the guise of redundantly clearing his throat as if that alone might cover the mortifying noise heâd just emitted.
Itâs only then that his gaze roves southward and his brows scrunch together above his glasses, carelessly showcasing concern as openly as that damnable bear. But he resolves to reprimand himself for that later.
Right nowâŚ
âWhereâs your crutch?â he demands, darting his optics about to try and find the familiar, grey stick of metal.
âGave it back to the hospital,â you explain with a shrug, âPhysio said I donât need it anymore, so long as I take it easy.â
Of its own apparent accord, one of Montyâs protocols raises its sleepy head. Youâre meant to be âtaking it easyâ and yet youâre down here in Parts looking for him⌠The gatorâs teeth clench unhappily.
âCâmon,â he promptly decides, placing one of his colossal paws on the small of your back and giving you a gentle nudge, guiding you around the side of the cylinder.
Letting out a bewildered hum, you have little choice except to allow yourself to be steered towards the service elevators at the back of the room. âUm, Monty?â you begin, âArenât you supposed to be having maintenance?â
âForget the maintenance,â he scoffs, shooting you an uncharacteristically warm look, âI just got you back. Youân me have a lot to catch up on. And youâre gonna sit yourself down on my sofa, in my green room, and weâre just gonna talk.â As it ought to be, somewhere safe and quiet, a place he can keep an optic on you.Â
âTalk?â you ask dubiously.
âTalk.â Catching the rich hum building in his chest cavity, the gator drags his optics away from you and uses his other arm to scratch at the underside of his neck. âIf, uh⌠Fâthatâs cool with you, I meanâŚâ
âHonestly?â you sigh.
Montyâs tail stiffens behind him, heavy with apprehension.
His frame nearly collapses out from underneath his weight when your expression brightens and you flash him an easy smile. âThat sounds ideal.â Later, you'll broach the topic about going to see your other friends. You've waited a long time to see Music Man, Sunnydrop and Moon after all. But Monty? You owe him this much, at least.
At the base of his frame, he feels the back-and-forth movement of his tail sway in its hinges when the gears unlock, only this time, he doesnât plan to do a damn thing to stop it. Finally, finally his existence at the Plex is getting back to the way it should be. He can show you how far heâs come, how good heâs been, how many children have drawn pictures of him since you left. His green room isnât even a mess today, save for a few old scratches on the walls that have since been covered up with crayon colourings of his face. Youâll be pleased.
Youâll be proud.
And nothing, no endos, no unruly customers, no⌠no ornery alligators⌠will ever cause you any trouble again. That, heâll make certain of. A private promise, one heâll reaffirm with actions, not words. Because you're his friend and he's going to be the best one you could ever possibly need. Heâs never been very good at words anyway.
The dull, muted fall of shoes on the concrete floor has Monty snapping his head around over a shoulder strut to aim a heated glare towards the doors at the rear of Parts and Services.
âGreat timing,â he grouses, curling his lips, displeased.
The entrance is shoved open without much preamble, and someone muscles their way through, hauling a metal toolbox along under one arm.
Turning to follow Montyâs gaze, you catch a glimpse of the newcomer.
And just like that, the air in your lungs goes stale and dies, and all the moisture in your mouth evaporates like rain off a sun-scorched pavement.
âAlright, Montgomery. Sorry about the wait,â Chase calls, âLetâs get you -âŚâ
Between his first spoken word and the last, the man lifts his eyes from the toolbox to find you and the gator standing side by side near the elevators, though the animatronic is disregarded entirely when he locks you in his sights and jerks to an abrupt and violent stop.
The toolbox slips from his grasp, tumbling to the floor where it lands with a deafening cacophony of noise, spilling hammers, spanners, and various screws across the room like wave of metal crashing against a concrete shore.
Later, youâll wonder if this is what it feels like to die, with a jolt of fear so vicious that it punches the strength right out of your limbs and steals the sound from the world around you as your head swells with a faint ringing, growing louder and louder with every thump of your jack-hammer heart.
At your side, you barely register Montyâs gruff and muffled voice barking something into your ear, but you canât bear to look at him, canât bring yourself to tear your gaze off the nightmare unfolding right in front of you in the form of a man with mild, brown eyes and an expression of horror that mirrors your own.
Numb lips peel apart until thereâs just enough space to utter a single, damning word.
âYou?â
And just a microsecond later comes his echo, spoken with a hushed reverence thatâs still somehow so terribly, awfully potent that it shakes the foundations of your safe little life and brings it all crumbling down on your head.
âYouâŚâ
#On the Ropes#Montgomery Gator#Monty gator#monty gator x reader#Security Breach#Fnaf#fnafsb#Freddy Fazbear#Fluff#comfort#Robot x human
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THIS WILL BE THE LAST TROLLS POST I EVER MAKE.



First off, thank you to those of you that continued to show all the work I make love. Thank you for caring for my work other than Trolls.
Now, onto this post and my final statements about this fandom.
I joined the fandom late, Iâd always technically been a part of it but never interacted until about a year or so ago through this site. Immediately I got interaction and a good amount of followers, a lot of people enjoying my work and wanting more.
That âwanting moreâ slowly became harassment as I got messages every day from a select few people commanding me to continue writing or making fanart. This slowly started to seep into me but was NOT the nail in the coffin. Even as i got handfuls of asks commanding more.
The nail was how the fandom handles abuse and abusers. I am a punk person, to those of you that know my Tiktok i post a LOT of punk content and have gained so much interaction. I am well known in a lot of communities and am even trying to advocate for the people that cant. It is BASE LINE respect to âalways believe the victimâ. Base line. Yet as soon as a very POPULAR and HIGHLY FOLLOWED creator who is being accused of abuse posts content back showing very explicit conversations and mental breakdowns to embarrass you into silence everyone FLOCKS to them. I had so many friends in this fandom, and as soon as i was publicly HUMILIATED by him for speaking out, i was being blocked. Some of the people i used to make fanart for and support are now people i look at with fear and disgust. This includes my fans, people who BETRAYED me and did not stand with me. Didnt QUESTION why all of a sudden I deleted everything?
Let me lay things out for you all, FINALLY. Since im fucking PISSED. He BLACKMAILED ME INTO SILENCE. He got his boyfriend to THREATEN ME. And when all was said and done as i was choking on my sobs? He kept the post UP. His post with THOUSANDS of views and comments saying disgusting things about me. Because no one gave a FUCK about the fact that me and my friend both came out about horrors when it came to him and his new boyfriend.
I am so disgusted and disappointed as to how my fans reacted to this all, i had even gotten a dm PRAISING ME for going back into silence. That broke my fucking heart.
Why am i bringing this up now? Because a multitude of his art for Fliff had had messages for me. Which NO ONE but me and my fiance knew about. Dictator barb? Message. Floyd saying insults to riff? Message. Are you all that illiterate to context of someones character? Did the INCEST HE PUT ON HIS TWITTER NOT SAY ANYTHING??? JD and his BROTHER having a threesome, completely naked said NOTHING? And when someone pointed it out he said he didnt give a shit.
No one gave a FUCK. I have so much dirt on one of his friends i used to ADORE that i will never utter even though he also fucking abandoned me because he knew him longer and believed i was the wailing banshee.
So overall, trolls fandom, get your FUCKING ACT STRAIGHT. About victims. And about context.
I am a HUMAN BEING. My callout was not something to laugh at and silence just because you like the PORN he draws.
Heâs once again posting after i was able to get him to fuck off from this fandom for almost a year. The relief i felt for that year was bliss. And now? I can barely fucking breathe. Once again i feel trapped.
So FUCK YOU ALL.
Have a fucking ANGRY and HURT tw of self harm under this sentence.
Good riddance, Trolls fandom. This is the last i will utter a word about the fandom or my experience. I am so disappointed.

#trolls band together#trolls world tour#trolls movie#dreamworks trolls#trolls#dw trolls#trolls 3#fliff trolls#riff trolls#barb and floyd being best buds#trolls with paws#trolls drawing#trolls with tails#trolls art#SoundCloud
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okay i know im like half a year too early to mention anything about this topic and also tumblr is raving mad about this topic and no one is actually gonna read this but. i read shakespeare's julius caesar for the first time yesterday and i need to be a pretentious fucker for a while. look the one thing i'm glad that tumblr agrees with me about is that the assassination of caesar was incredibly homoerotic like i felt like a madman for thinking that but then i discovered thousands of strangers on the internet are backing me up and i felt better.
i'm talking about the play version of events, not the historical version, by the way; though i will talk about the historical version shortly.
shakespeare really knows how to write his tragedies. that play has not left my mind since i finished reading it, which was, by the way, in one sitting about 24 hours ago. my mind has not stopped thinking about that play for an entire day and i am sure it will continue to do so in the near future.
i love the contrast between the ways caesar himself is portrayed. to some, he is a dead man walking. to some, he is the very anchor of society: the north star. to some, he is just a man, who needs to come home and rest sometimes. to himself, he is a mixture of all of those, but he only ever expresses one of those roles, because he is the dictator of rome, in his eyes, he is the rightful king, the one who has led and will continue to lead rome to glory for years to come, and there was no point in heeding the word of anyone else.
my favourite character, is, quite predictably, brutus. "not that i loved caesar less, but that i loved rome more" okay so what if i cried. (i somewhat shamelessly will admit that i have shed tears over this. as i said, the man knows how to write his tragedies.) on one hand, caesar is brutus' friend, the one who had elected him praetor of rome (i know it isn't directly mentioned in the play that caesar made brutus praetor but he is referred to as praetor and since historically caesar was indeed the one to elect brutus praetor, i think it is safe to assume the same within the context of the play), the one who had pardoned him after he sided with caesar's enemy pompey, the one whom he admitted several times that he loved. on the other hand, brutus was raised to bring honour to his family's name via bringing honour to rome; and thought himself morally righteous when he considered that he wasn't above betraying his friend to end a tyrranical rule, even if it meant allying himself with others who wanted to murder caesar for their own selfish gains. and after following through with what he perceived to be his utmost duty to his country, and his people, and his family, and himself, he is haunted by the ghost of his close friend, something which drives him into the point of his own sword.
betrayals have a special place in my heart because they are so entangled deep in conflicting emotions. to betray one is almost always to stand behind another, but inherently betrayals of others are also betrayals to yourself; there must have been a reason the betrayal was a betrayal and not a simple act of violence. because acts of violence can happen by anyone's hand, but betrayals can only happen by those who are most trusted.
cassius, that motherfucker. i feel the same way towards him as i felt toward lord henry wotton in the picture of dorian gray. egging my favourite character on to go against his homoerotic bestie, like fuck that.
i think i am most fascinated by how i do not know what i would have done if i was in brutus' place. would i have done what he has, plotted against and murdered my best friend who trusted me most, who dedicated his last words to me, who admitted defeat solely when it became apparent to him that i was among the conspirators? or would i have lived with the guilt of perpetuating tyrrany and lived with the guilt of, what in my conscience would have been, subjecting future generations of romans to suffer under a dictatorship, just to be able to greet my friend every day and not be haunted by what i have brought on against him?
that caesar truly did not expect brutus to be among the conspirators breaks my heart. that brutus acted out of duty and moral obligation only to fail miserably after having murdered his friend breaks my heart.
in my mind, these two got reincarnated somehow, in a calmer generation, and talked things through, and rode off together into the sunset.
i didn't ever think i would get so emotional over two dudes from a shakespeare play based on historical events that happened over two millenia ago but here we are. they make me want to cry like a baby.
but onto some actual history.
i'll start of with some nitpicking. when caesar is referred to as julius in the play, i physically cringed. as i cringe whenever anyone else assumes his first name to be julius. caesar's full name was gaius julius caesar (or caivs ivlivs caesar, if you will). caesar was the name with which 99% of people would have refered to him, as it was is cognomen, the name that was supposed to distinguish you from everyone else in roman society, and the one formally used to refer to you. if one were close to caesar, one would have called him gaius, which was his praenomen, of which there were only about twelve to choose from. julius, on the other hand, was his nomen, or the name passed down based on which clan he was decended from, in his case the julii. no one actually used the nomen to refer to anyone, as many, many men could be not in the least bit related anymore and yet share the same nomen. it would simply have been too confusing.
now, some common knowledge. "et tu, brute?" was never really uttered by caesar. the two most popular theories as to what caesar said after having been stabbed is that he either said nothing at all, which is what ancient scholars generally agreed upon, although it was expected of him to say something as he was expected to leave behind a legacy. some think he said "you too, child." in greek. initially, this may seem like it is a question that holds essentially the same meaning as "et tu, brute?": one of shocked betrayal, of the question of how even someone as close to caesar as brutus could do this to him. but it is more likely that it was instead a statement, and indeed the shortened version of a common roman proverb, essentially meaning "what goes around comes around". so what caesar would have meant by that is you too will meet your demise in a similar fashion, just you wait. which is very interesting to me
i think the historical relationship of caesar and brutus is very interesting (putting aside my homoerotic intepretation of the shakespeare characters for a moment). brutus' mother was a long-time mistress of caesar, and ancient scholars talked of a rumour that brutus was actually caesar's son, though they were sceptical, and modern historians also generally disagree with this. however, it is true that they were reported to have an affectionate relationship, caesar essentially teaching brutus all he knew like a father would to a son; brutus was raised by his uncle after his father was killed by pompey (also known as pompey the great), so he initially sided with caesar. however, already then, he saw how caesar was becoming overzealous and decided to switch sides and support pompey in the civil war. however, pompey was defeated by caesar in the battle of pharsalus, after which brutus was taken prisoner and eventually pardoned by caesar, granting him the ability to then build his political life in the roman senate. after that, he became one of caesar's closest friends and advisors, even being promoted to be the praetor and then proconsul of rome.
anyway, if you made it this far, have a knife (to stock up for the ides of march). take your pick: đŞđĄâđŞ
#ides of march#in october i know#whatever stop judging me#julius caesar#julius caesar shakespeare#how am i supposed to get over this play#how#when it's so deeply embedded now in my soul#wow#brutus
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yknow what??? fuck it. im not even gonna turn on anon. IM NOT EVEN GONNA DO IT!! because at this point you'd clock my ass a nautical mile off for who it is just bc im gonna ask for exactly what you caught me for on anon LAST TIME.
SO,,,, haha,,,, heyyyy mothiiiiir,,,, pllllleeeasse more nasty ass rabbit/emp headcanonnns OR writing or anything,, you always cook and im one starving ass loser.
thank you ily and your writing once again ok ok ok BYEEE
cw: angst, not what you intended but this got me thinking about the emperor and then uh. we got this. not set in the little rabbit verse, which will soon become obvious. playing loose with the canon timelines because i donât know exactly how the burning of monarchia went down.
â
â
Monarchia burns â and three days later, Guilliman and his sons make planet fall.
â
It takes a great deal to surprise a Primarch, and yet here Guilliman is, blinking at the charred rubble of your former capital, struggling to find words.
âSay that again,â he says, at length. You sit up from your prostrated position, lifting your head just enough to address his shins rather than the ground.
âThere is no penance great enough for the crime we have committed against the Emperor and the Imperium,â you say, your voice soft, but ringing clear. âThere is no punishment that we do not deserve for such blatant defiance of the Imperial Truth. I can state that we were misled â which is true â and that we were ignorant, but that is no excuse. All I can say is that when I discovered that my Lord Husband was acting in defiance of the Emperorâs wishes, I acted as swiftly as I could to remedy it.â
It makes even less sense the second time around. The once-glorious city is wreathed in flames; the sun blotted out by a miasma of smoke. The same story is repeated across the entire planet. A revolution almost overnight â temples torn down, idols cast into the sea, believers put to the sword. The few Word Bearers that remained had died at their posts; they had slaughtered thousands of their kinsman, but died all the same. Bears torn down by hounds.
âYou did this,â he says. You shake your head minutely. Your hair â once a glorious braid almost to your waist, always ornamented with some fancy that Lorgar had gifted you â has been chopped into an unkempt bob around your shoulders. Guilliman vaguely remembers a tale amongst Lorgarâs adopted people: of a queen who had lost a great battle, and shorn her locks in penance.
âNo my lord. I did nothing. My people acted against the rot in our ranks. They carved it out.â
âMillions have died.â
âIt is no great loss that those who would espouse the evils of theology perish,â you say, your voice as flat and featureless as a windless sea. âAll I ask is that those that remainâŚâ
For a moment, emotion returns to your voice, colouring it.
âAll I ask is that some of them be spared. Please.â
You lift your face for the first time since his arrival. Your lips are lined with blood, shadows hung beneath eyes sunk deep into their sockets. In the space of three days, you seem to have aged decades â from a fresh-faced woman in the bloom of youth, to a crone who has seen the ending of all that she loves.
â
The seas do not boil. The sky does not burn. Another battle is brought to a shuddering, decisive end as the Ultramarines join on the side of your rebels â no, you cannot think of them as such. They are not rebels; they are vindicated. They are fighting for the truth, for what is right and good. They are crusaders.
You â you are not a crusader. You are not sure what to call yourself. Lorgar called you a goddess; a title that always disquieted you, but you accepted it, for his eyes shone so when he looked at you, and he made love to you as though you were the only thing that mattered. Now, you have lost count of the number of men and women who have died for referring to you as such.
You are not a widow either. Your husband lives, though you do not know where he is. Once, Lorgar pressed his hand to your chest and felt the thrum of your heart against his palm and said that no matter where you went there was a golden cord that bound your heart to his; that no void nor fire could split asunder what was joined in love.
You dream that you wind a golden chain around your hands, pull it taut, and bite until your teeth chip, until your tongue bleeds, until it frays into dust on your lips.
â
When you meet the Emperor, you press your forehead to the cinder-warm flagstones that used to be a marketplace, and you wait for death. You know, in a distant dreamy sort of way, that you should be afraid, but you are not. You accepted your death what seems like a lifetime ago â in reality, it is less than four days since you gave the order to start burning the temples.
The irony of it all. People answered your call to arms, to not-so-holy war, because you are Lorgarâs bride, because you are the woman once called goddess. And what did you do with the power that he gave you? You ordered that his greatest works be destroyed.
But what else could you have done?
Colchis is your home. And in his arrogance â in his endless childish arrogance â Lorgar would have let it burn to ash rather than do as he had been bid. Did he truly believe his father a god? If so, why would he not obey his commandments as soon as they were given?
Thinking this way hurts you â not only because it stirs anger like a wounded animal in your breast, but because it throws into stark relief how Lorgarâs mind contained chasms and corners you never saw. How even though you gave yourself to him as completely as a woman can, he always kept parts of himself hidden from you â but you will not waste time delving into that labyrinth. His beliefs are inconsequential. Only the facts matter. Lorgar worshipped his father as a god. Lorgar was told to stop. Lorgar did not.
You visited the day of judgement upon Colchis before the Emperor got the chance, betting everything on a single desperate gesture. You do not regret it, though you will dream of the dying wails of your people until the end of your days. If you had not acted, all would have died. Now, maybe â just maybe â some may live.
âThe girl acted in the best interests of her people,â the Emperor says, and it is only then that you realise precisely what was happening: he was rifling around in your head, subtly enough that you could not see the intrusion; mistaking his exploration for an ill-timed moment of navel-gazing. All at once, pain rushes into your knees and thighs, knife-like cramps. How long have you been kneeling there?
Then, inexplicably, a wash of frustration: girl, he calls you. Girl. You are staring down your third decade of life â nothing for one such as him, of course, but really.
Girl. You carved out your still-warm heart and laid it on a flaming altar and he refers to you as girl.
âStand,â he says, and you obey, fighting the hysterical urge to snort with laughter â youâre exhausted, swooning, and starting to feel the after-effects of the universeâs most powerful psyker reading your thoughts. Blood drips down your chin. âI am satisfied with the efforts of your loyal Imperial citizens against the primitive cultists.â
âThank you my lord,â you say, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground â thus missing entirely the swift, puzzled look Guilliman gives you, for âI am satisfiedâ is more praise than the Emperor normally gives anyone.
(And perhaps it is just a trick of the light, or the wild shadows cast by the afterglow of battle, but Guilliman swears that just for a moment his father smiles.)
âHeracles,â says the Emperor, addressing one of the gigantic golden sentinels standing to attention beside him. âYou will escort her aboard the Bucephalus. We will speak further when I have dealt with my son.â
The golden sentinel inclines her head, and you try your best to stay upright, your legs shaky as a newborn colt. You do not think of what the Emperor will do to Lorgar; you cannot.
âIt goes without saying,â says the Emperor, almost as an afterthought. âBut your marriage to him is annulled.â
Eight years. Your life; your heart; that golden cord. What love has joined together, none may tear asunder - except that is not true, was never true.
âYes my lord,â you say.
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hi hiii, i saw you complaining about bad owen takes and i wanna ask about your owen takes! What are the biggest misconceptions you see people have about him? What are some things that more casual fans tend to miss/not notice? What do you think of the normal owen and kizu owen split?
feel free to make this as detailed or as simplified as you wish ~â i just like seeing people talk about their favorite wizards!
OMG IVE been thinking about how to answer this for days IM SO EXCITED TO YAP!
I will start though that I don't have a lot about Kizu atm, because there's a LOT there but we really don't see Kizu!Owen very often. I know we're a tad behind on event translations, but.... I don't think he's been in an event or card story since Main Story 2 wrapped up, other than Owen's Walpurgis 4koma.... can we have a moment of silence for Kizu!Owen likers? I miss our sweetie. And more.. hi this is Cee after writing all of the below I got really inspired to start working on a handful of character essays so expect those in the tag at some point..
In terms of misconceptions, I think the biggest ones I see are that Owen is incapable of knowingly doing a positive thing. Or that he isn't capable of being kind, compassionate or merciful. (dodges rocks). I get why people who aren't total Owenheads come to this conclusion. It's easy to take what is said about Owen (and the Northies as a whole) as gospel, in fact, I think the Northerner's serve a really interesting role in the thematic relevance of prejudice against wizards. After all, in MS1, the reader gets one small look at Owen after the Calamity battle where he is with the other Northies plus Oz as an introduction, four lines of dialogue and then he is gone for forty-thousand words. While he is off-screen, we only ever hear negative things about him - Heathcliff says he's scary, Cain tells Akira about his eye and to not listen to a thing Owen says, the Previous Sage calls him maddening and creepy and basically every other character who talk about the Northies calling them the Worst Ever. Not a great first impression, and there is a lot of time for that perception to sink in and go unchallenged. And I'll admit, even after they officially make their debut at the party, the Northies don't go out of their way to challenge that perception obviously - why would they? after all, words are a curse and titles a burden; they've all carried the title of Northerner for so very long, can someone please write something about Oz's Balcony speech I think there are a lot of reasons for why Owen's role in the party was so fraught (and I go into them a little here although that post is more part-vent part-summary of an event card spurred by an ex-oomfs twt vague than proper analysis)
But it's not just how long that we are only told of the Northies vices or their lack of defense; even after their introduction and all throughout the stories, trusted figures, like the Twins (which trusting them is dubious...) and Oz, reinforce the idea of Owen being entirely malevolent and insane. Owen is evil because Owen is the Northern Wizard Owen. He seeks to twist your heart into a withering husk. But does he really?
I think the biggest misconception is that Owen's one and true goal in life is to cause chaos and misery, to reap untold amounts of violence. That's a goal he would never deny having, but he didn't deny killing Nicholas either, did he? This perception about what Owen wants (when he doesn't even really know it himself) puts on blinders, where the times that he is benign or even kind or compassionate get overlooked, over explained and twisted into wickedness by other wizards. Those words might be slightly too warm for him, but I know for a fact there is a case to be made for him being merciful and having a more nuanced relationship with killing and death than others would believe. I think there are many events which showcase the nicer parts of his personality (one of my faves is Winter 2022; his part in it is relatively small but it showcases a unique facet of his relationship with lies/truths as well as the gap between him causing misery versus, but we've seriously had so many banger events.)
But luckily, even if one doesn't want to scour through the backlog of miscellaneous events to see these traits on display (or are one of the people who only take Bunta's writing as law of the world), we see Owen act in contrary ways to the ideal of a wicked Northern wizard all throughout the main stories and anniversaries, in big and small ways.
In particular, I think in all of the excitement of the final showdown in the second Anniversary, the details that Bunta had written in regarding Owen's involvement is overlooked. They are, after all, small things compared to the great feats of magic that Akira is witnessing.
Spoilers below for anni2 for any anime-onlys or fandom newcomers, welcome and I hope dearly we get to see that animated one day.
First, and this is so important to me, throughout the fight, Akira states that Owen is keeping one hand on his hat to prevent himself from losing it. At this point, they have already made the transformation into their event outfits. As in most events, Anni2's clothes were tailored by our dear Chloe. Owen does have a bit of a fashionista streak (that's something I think can be missed too, that he has a genuine interest in style) but not to the extent that he is typically that cautious with his outfits. There have definitely been times he's allowed clothes to get ripped, torn or otherwise ruined. So him going to the effort to make sure he doesn't lose this accessory is noteworthy. After all, he does have other hats. While Owen is stated to be using a rapier in this fight, typically the stance used for it has the other arm lowered; as I understand it, that aids balance and power. Owen isn't using the rapier as a channeling tool, he is actively slashing at Oz with it. So, he is putting himself at a disadvantage by keeping his arm in that position. That is - Owen cares more about keeping the hat that was given to him by Chloe than he cares about giving 100% to a fight against the strongest wizard in the world, when he comes from a place where strength is the defining characteristic.
Then, ironically, this hat then serves as a way for Owen to shield his heart from the western wizard once the fight is over. As the fighters are recollecting themselves and going off to lick their wounds, Owen stumbles in pain. To everyone's surprise, Chloe catches him. This is a moment of kindness, but it is also a direct acknowledgement of Owen's current weakness. Yet, despite such a thing being a direct jab to any Northerner's pride, Owen barely lashes out at him at all. Even though he was irritated from the results of the battle, he simply stares, likely just as surprised as everyone else that someone would support him, then tells Chloe to leave him alone. Akira says an expression of hurt crosses Chloe's face and, seeing that, Owen pulls the hat over his eyes and looks away before disappearing.
Owen would have the entire world believe he loves misery of all kinds, loves being the cause of it. These negative emotions are the driving point of his magic and he certainly just used a lot of mana in the fight against Oz. So, why would he just walk away - not just walk away, look away - from a chance to not just push back against Chloe's kindness, but a way for him to generate negativity and "refuel"? An argument could be made that his lack of his typical wordy rejection, laden with insults, is just a consequence of the fight - he's tired, humiliated, not even desserts can lift his mood. Owen just wants to go and sulk.
I think if that was the case, this would be an isolated incident. But we see him look away from or react similarly to other's true multiple other times. He looks similarly irritated (or even guilty) in his affection story after he told Akira he hated them.
This post is getting pretty long so I'm going to wrap up quickly, but another incident happens during the fight that I think should be focused on more:
When faced with the opportunity to kill Arthur, and deal a horrible wound to Oz's heart by doing so, Owen hesitates. The wizard who doesn't care about anyone or anything, who is alone completely, who loves violence and bloodshed, who wants to see nothing more than Oz's face twist in agony has a chance to inflict utter despair upon many of the wizards in the manor
and he hesitates.
What a crazy good character. I could make an essay off of a single line of Owen's dialogue if needed, he's so seriously rich in layers.
Other things I think can get missed: his sentimentality (see: his efforts to keep his hat, but also how he has reacted when handed certain gifts (also talked about that above), the multiple times he's exorcised or otherwise helped souls move on (unfortunately one of my favorite examples is a now-deleted card story if anyone backed up his 2nd mahopa or would be interested in translating it..), the multiple times he acts as an impromptu teacher for the younger wizards. There's definitely more and I can expand on all of these but I'm getting sleepy... thank you for the question and feel free to let me know if i should clarify something or if im forgetting something major. THANK YOU FOR THE QUESTION!
#owen mhyk#mahoyaku#and i guess irt my last point arthur couldnt die there duh#but there wouldve been other ways to save him than that#the wording matters so much#the read more kept jumping around everytime i started working on this draft but im going to hope it works now#if there are any typos no there arent
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kayu's comms corner;
hello, this is kayu!!!
here i write and express what could be in my writing commissions.
first and foremost, both my writings, paid or not, are treated with equal care and affections. commissions would however be taken with priority in terms of delivery to the consumer/reader.
secondly, the slots count per series is counted depending on how much time i can write in between my regular fic updates and my regular day to day. however, i will express how much slots are open from time to time and how much per series i can intake.
other than that as of currently - there will be five concurrently for this first series and are currently open for those who want to get slots for these fics!!!
thirdly, i will not charge for anything i write extra. if you only paid for five thousand words and i exceed it to seven thousand because of the way the story fits - then i will not charge anymore than what you paid for. everything after what we agreed on is a bonus.
consequently, i write rather fast (primarily because i don't like doing things half done, as i forget about it rather fast)
so the duration of completion would be from a week or two and if im am busy, then a few weeks to a month. but that is depending on what needs to be written and just as much, my capabilities.
i will inform you about it one way or another and ensure that you will hear updates from me. from the beginning, half completion to the completion of the project.
however, on the occassion that i cannot finish the project, i will provide a full refund and finish the work as an apology along with the drafts that could be made along the way.
for the rates, please refer to this chart below:
for the rates - i don't wanna go up as much because i know a lot of people are also dealing with a lot and i said this before, but i do not want to charge so much. so for me, each commission is just you buying me a coffee and or a snack in the afternoon, like a barter. so i will not up my charges, either.
and this is my first time doing this in a more broader manner and so i also do not want to charge much because i am new to fic commissions and so, this is what i feel i currently deserve as a newbie in this situation. so, maybe one day i'll up my price but for now - this is what i feel comfortable getting paid for commissions.
if you are interested, please do not be hesistant to dm me over on here or request for me on ko-fi. and we can talk about the finer details of the commission, such as the themes especially such as nsfw themes and the relationships and pairings.
it is better for me to know where your limits and comforts are with things you read, so i may be able to give them to you. so let's have an in-depth conversation about this!!!
payment can also be made through pay-pal and ko-fi and such payments can be made half when the commission is begun and half when the commission is finished - as to ensure that there is trust between both sides of the aisle.
and also, here below is what i primarily will and enjoy wholeheartedly writing for:
fic continuations, prequels, or sequels: whether itâs expanding a world iâve already gone and built or diving deeper into your favorite stories, for which iâm happy to extend existing works.
nsfw content: these are all inclusive of dark themes, with clear boundaries discussed beforehand.
reader-inserts: these are regarding how you may customize to your preferences and narrative style.
oc-inserts: here, i will incorporate unique characters with specific traits (e.g., skin tone, hair color, eye shape, etc) seamlessly into your commission request.
custom requests: there are for any other ideas or scenarios youâd love to see come to lifeâjust let me know!
finally, some closing notes
any thing is on the table for continuation, in terms of my series or other one off works and their respective reader inserts. which means you hold the ball for that such situation and i am happy to oblige you for that.
for example, you liked one of my toji fics and think there's something to be explored for that - then you can come by and ask if this could be expounded for you specially in the ways that you want me to do it.
another thing is that you have the choice if you would like for this to be privately delivered to you via email or via private messaging. that is something that you could have and enjoy.
but if you want it for public viewing, whether in ko-fi or whether on tumblr, you may tell me and i will tag you and mention it on my note when it is posted.
this such option is entirely up to you and you only. so please, let me know what you'd like regarding this as preference.
i feel as though that this is all i have to express thus far and this will change as i start to develop as a writer and my schedule and availability.
so if you have any other questions, please tell me and i will try to get back to you as soon as possible.
yours truly, once again, kayu x
commissions i've done
you belong with me â nanami kento.
somebody does love (but im thinking âbout you)â ryomen sukuna.
pretty woman â nanami kento.
almost like falling in love â nanami kento.
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hello im so excited that your ask box is open and youre taking requests! i dont request things often, so this might be a but of a weird concept, and i apologize if its too detailed. however the idea literally wont leave me alone. orz;;
maybe eustass kid has a crush on a somewhat reserved reader whose slow to open up and he hasnt quite realized thats what hes feeling until they stop on an island and meet readers childhood friend. they show a whole new side of themself with said friend by laughing openly, making stupid jokes, being much more physically affectionate. basically reader acts close with an old friend and kid gets jealous about it.
i dont mind if you do a oneshot, drabble, or headcanon, im just curious about your thoughts on this :3 thank you so much and i hope you have a great day!
Hello dear anon! Sure, I'm always happy to write for my pookie. It was fun to write, and it makes me smile a bit because Kid is such a mess, I love this angry tulip. Hope it will match your expectations. â
âKid with a s/o slow to open up
CW : g/n reader, a bit of cursing but fluff overall
WC : 700
Kid has always been loud. Whenever he's angry, he needs to shoot at someone. What can he say? His heart is filled with emotions, boiling and exploding like a thousand sparks. That's why you're a mystery. Always calm. Not letting others know what's on your mind. What makes you so quiet? He can't tell.Â
Just like the moon and the sun, you are polar opposites. And yet, as the sun always chases the moon, he's always looking after you. And he's everything, but not discreet. Asking loudly for almost all of his crew what they think about you and why you are so reserved.Â
Sure, he's used to introverted folks. Killer is one of them. But here's the difference: he can second-guess every word, thought, and breath of his best friend. He could probably achieve all of his sentences. And even through the mask, Kid could also guess the exact expression on Killer's face.Â
Killer, who is likely aware that Kid has a small crush on you.
Kid is genuinely frustrated. Loudly frustrated, obviously. He needs to feel in control of everything and hates when he doesnât have a full-understanding. Usually, he fails to notice reserved people because he's taking all the attention. But there's something about you: your slight smiles, the flash in your eyes, the way you're always listening to others but never talk about yourself. He can't tell why, but it keeps his mind alert.Â
Perhaps you pose a bit of a challenge. Kid would never give two flying fucks about you if you were easy to see through. He's always looking after you because you're still a mystery. Sure, at the beginning, it was just to try to figure out who you really are. But now, it turned into something bigger. He hasn't noticed it yet, thatâs all. Kid sucks with feelings. Feelings are actually something he hates because they make him feel weak. It puts his loved one in danger. Showing your weaknesses to enemies is a foolish move, Kid knows that perfectly.
However, everything is about to change. He decided to stop on that island for the day. For the first time, you asked to avoid robbery or harming anyone around.Â
"Ugh, we're pirates, y/n" Kid doesn't want to look like a nice guy. He's a tough, rude pirate. He has a reputation to uphold. For him, the only good way to open a path is by violent means. Kindness? For what? If he's still alive today, it's because he toughened up and decided to never show mercy to anyone.Â
"Fine, fine, I won't kill those people." Heavy sighs. But he wants to understand. He needs to understand. And finally, he's about to understand.Â
Because suddenly, you're smiling heartily and running towards those scumbag strangers. What. The. Fuck. It's like seeing the sun after an eternity of blizzards and grey clouds. You're a bright light, a true sunshine. A burst of joy. You're joking, laughing, talking, and talking a lot. You never said more than two sentences in front of him, and now you're chatting endlessly with those strangers and hugging all of them.Â
He's pissed off. Are those random people with terrible sense of style and ugly make-up better than him? The great Eustass "Captain" Kid? No way.Â
"Guys, here's my captain, Kid. Kid, here are my childhood best friends."
Kid's face is a mess of angry scowls and boiling with frustration when they say hello. Why aren't you smiling as warmly when you're with him? Why is his heart pounding so hard, almost painfully in his chest? And damn, is it the cold or are his cheeks completely red?Â
Poor Kid is both flushed and flustered. His first reflex is always exploding when he feels something. "Do you have a problem with me?" Barking through gritted teeth.Â
He's ruining the happy-shitty mood and he doesn't care.Â
So now, try to explain that you don't have a problem with him. Good luck, he's very stubborn. But once he's more or less calmed (because he's still pissed off), he still can't understand why his heart is racing at the sight of your soft, warm smile.
He wants to see that side of you more often. He wants to be part of those privileged people allowed to know the real you.
Yes, maybe he has a crush on you.
#one piece headcanons#one piece x reader#eustass kid x reader#eustass kid headcanons#eustass kid x y/n#eustass kid x you#eustass kid imagine#eustass kid#one piece requests#eustass kidd x reader#eustass x reader#eustass captain kidd#one piece x y/n#one piece x you
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
thank u @flowersforthemachines <333 I was looking for how to continue ignoring my responsibilities and this was just perfect-
tagging @woundedsoul12 @dragonagegayz @turidtorkilsdottir
1) How many works do you have on AO3?
20! I hope itâs worth mentioning that, back in the day, I had 300 individual works published on Wattpad (they can now only be found in my blurry memory and in that of the people who read them lol).
2) Whatâs your total AO3 word count?
135, 909.
3) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Cure you (168), Killing Butterflies (120), Poison (83), Tortured (49) and Goldwing (39).
4) What fandoms do you write for?
Currently only writing for Dragon Age; Iâve also written for SpainRP (a GTA roleplay server for Spanish streamers I got obsessed with during the pandemic), have a published work for Valorant, and in Wattpad, everything I wrote was for the Percy Jackson fandom.
5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes! I always try to reply. I usually see them right away, but I like to set aside a special time during the day for them. I love when people comment anything on my workâit makes me inexplicably happy instantly, even if itâs just an emoji. I love comments.
6) Whatâs the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Sorry, Iâm a sucker for happy endings. Although /slowly glances at my Spite x Illario work and the final draft im working on/ ehem... uhm... that might change very soon... sorry Illario!
When I wrote on Wattpad, it was rare for my fics to have a happy ending. I think thatâs where my growth and maturity really show. But yeah,
7) Whatâs the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Every time I read the ending of Tortured, I break down crying. I love my first Rook and Lucanis so much. With all my heart.
8) Do you get hate on fics?
Not anymore haha when I used to write on Wattpad years ago, I would get death threats every day. Itâs good that itâs not like that anymore!
9) Do you write smut?
I think itâd be easier to just point out which of my fics donât have smut. I love writing it. Iâm just one of those terribly horny and depressed people all the time.
10) Do you write crossovers?
Not anymore. I remember I used to do it a lot. The funniest crossover I ever wrote was Dear Evan Hansen x The Avengers (Connor x Loki specifically. First kiss. God, I remember it so fondly).
11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Yup!
12) Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yup! To german, if my memory doesnât fail me.
13) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?
Yes, lots of them actually,.
14) Whatâs your all-time favorite ship?
Illario x me always me (Rookanis).
15) Whatâs the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
I have an Illario x Rook De Riva fic with almost fifteen thousand words, but I'm getting really scared around the ending. It makes me feel very insecure, and since then, I think Iâve created better characters to be with Illario (Belasko and Sienna <3). Idk. Maybe someday!
16) What are your writing strengths?
Many people have mentioned to me over the years that I write emotions in a "raw" and real way. I like to think that's true!
17) What are your writing weaknesses?
I hate writing fight scenes so much because I feel like no one ever understands what I'm describingâI hate them so much that I made this animatic just to avoid it, it was for a really long roleplayÂż LOL
youtube
18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?
Before I know it, I start writing the dialogue in spanish. Sorry to the people reading my fics, the antivan language will not be translated, it's for me/j
19) First fandom you wrote for?
Percy Jackson. Literally saved my life. Similarly, when I got back into writing seriously, it was because of Dragon Age Veilguard, and itâs also saved my life.
20) Favorite fic youâve ever written?
Iâm sorry to be repetitive, but I adore Tortured. Killing Butterflies also comes close, but every time I open that damn Rookanis fic, I end up in tears. Their happiness means so much to me, and I think itâs also some of my best smut. I love it.
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Re your tags on the xReader hate ----- yeah that's 100% it, it's that it clogs the tags, because xReader writers almost never use any consistent tag to indicate that the post is a reader insert, AND they very rarely use the ReadMore function.
So i have soooo many different combinations of tags listed in my blocklist, yet I am still subjected to giant walls of text about YN falling in love with [character], because the post was tagged with some random new tag that isn't in my blocklist yet. I have.... probably nearly a hundred different xReader tags blocked? Because no one uses "Reader Insert" supported by additional more specific tags, and instead everyone uses [specific character name]xReader, or [Alternate Version Of Character Name]xYN. Or xYour Name. Or xyourname. Or the character's first name but not surname, or surname but not first, or both with a space between or both with no spaces, or a nickname, or xYou, or----- you get the picture.
And i know that for me personally, that's the key driver of my irritation with the genre. I'm glad y'all are having fun and everything, but there are only so many times I can scroll past a six-thousand-word-long post that is improperly tagged and isnt behind a ReadMore before I start to get a bit annoyed. And then it keeps happening and my irritation builds a little each time. I have no issue with the stories themselves - in fact i love that people write and read Reader Insert fics so passionately. It's just that I'VE done all the correct things (expansive and detailed use of the blocklist) but I'm still subjected to enormous unfiltered posts any time I go into a character or fandom tag.
This would be solved if there was one universal tag that writers of xReader used ---- or even a handful that they could choose from. xReader is one. Reader Insert is another. Your name fic is another. Etc. Any one of those would mean the fic would be hidden for me, because I have all of those (and more) in my blocklist.
And i think for many others, the source of irritation/hate is the same. A universal primary tag with additional more descriptive tags ("Reader Insert" followed by "[Character]xReader" for example) would solve this, AND would make it easier for people who WANT to read xReader fics to find them.
Oh my god this ask got huge, sorry.
Anyway yeah you're right - the hate for xReader fics isn't based on the genre itself, but rather the fact that random and disorganised tagging means that enthusiastic blocklisting is not enough to hide the posts from those who aren't interested in xReader fics.
That's what I figured. And you're totally right. A universal tag would be amazing!!! (Gonna try and remember to tag any of my future fics with "Reader Insert") and i think a good way to do it would just be to do that and then "Reader Insert: character name". And i know not everyone would do it. But it would definitely be helpful!!!
Gonna put the rest under a readmore to save space! đ¤Ł
Another thing that bothers the shit outta me, is when i see them tagged with shit that has nothing to do with it. Like they're trying to do the thing, i think it's from instagram, where they just tag it with everything to get more eyes on it. And im like... dude. That just makes people hate you. And actually i block people who do that so like... its having the opposite effect they want! Hahaha!
And i feel you so hard on the readmore thing. I used to be more lenient because back in the day you had to know the little hack to do it on mobile, which wa super fucking easy, but i digress. But there's literally a button for it now. On desktop AND mobile, so there is absolutely NO excuse.
But yeah, no worries about the lenght, i get passionate too. And i totally feel you, its exhausting having 300 tags blocked and STILL seeing things because other people can't tag things correctly or at least a handful of "correct" tags so people can just block what they don't wanna see and move on!
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⨠happy new year! â¨
it's not yet 2024 where i am but it is where my love @ravensmadreads is, so happy new year already enjoying january 1st!
i usually overthink around my birthday as i march towards death but you lovely people have really made me think about 2023 as it comes to a close. i feel weird talking about myself (unless im drunk and we haven't started drinking yet so hold onto your butts for that possibility), so i'm just going to say this:
You all changed my life.
there, that's it. if you read this and you think it doesn't mean you, yes it does. not a day goes by where this place, this community does not bring me joy and warmth. i hope you get that job you wanted, or you get that fur baby adoption you've been hoping for, or you get accepted to that school you wanted to, or you graduate with all the honors, or you create the thing you've always wanted to, or you get the baby you've been hoping for, or the person who makes you heart flip says i love you. i'm nervous about next year because it truly feels like a year where anything can happen đ¤
now to the fandom stuff:
i've never done a fic rec list because inevitably, i'm a fucking moron and i leave someone out. i know it hurts when i'm left out of a fic rec list so i never want to do that to anyone here. what follows is a list of fics that spoke specifically to me. the old saying goes is that you don't write fanfic for yourself, you write it for the five freaks on discord that can't write coherent sentences after you publish -- and it's true. fanfic isn't about numbers -- i would much rather write for my five freaks on my discord (where my work has deep, emotional impact for them) than try to write for a large crowd that i will never ever manage to please all at once.
my wish for you in 2024 you all find your freaks. and i hope i'm one of them.
side note: there are a couple fics not on the list because i wanted to highlight fics that i didn't see much on other end of the year rec lists. but @iamskyereads 's Compulsion should be read in graduate programs and @whatsnewalycat already knows i'm going to name my first born child after her for her Psychomanteum. yall rock my goddamn world.
so without further adieu . . . these are the fics i read this year that tickled me pink.
God is a Woman by @wheresarizona the way arizona writes max is entirely unique. i love her descriptions of how cold he is and how he doesn't breathe. i read this and had to rethink everything i ever wrote for max
the impaler by @kiwisbell the dracula x johnathan x mina vibes in this are spectacular. this is a pairing i never thought i'd see much less enjoy so thoroughly. why is older tim being seduced by a younger max so hot??
night one by @haylzcyon this is one of the first fics i read by hayley and she pretty much set the standard for all marcus pike fics moving forward. his endless patience, his flirty attitude, how he see things the reader won't admit, and then the sleeping bag -- god i'd read a thousand more fics about this dymanic
blood & tinsel by @morallyinept so if i tried to list all of my favorite jett fics, we'd be here all night. but this one stands out to me because it's so well built. the description of the vampire "trance" or "glamor" or "compulsion" without using any of those words is INCREDIBLE. plus max is face-meltingly hot in this.
the world turned on its side by @idolatrybarbie this was a surprise that came outta nowhere, but it hit me like a fucking train. bea weaves a story that sticks with you and creates a frankie that makes my entire soul sing.
heat by @wordywarriorwrites okay, listen. the beauty of fanfic is that you can have insane, animalistic smut AND literary level writing. this fic is both. i have yet to come across another frankie abo fic that makes the dynamic more than a reason for the blorbos to fuck like animals. it's so well done, there's so much love here.
in fiction @sin-djarin yall know dieter is my boy so i am VERY particular about how he is written in fic. everyone's interpretation is valid, but for dieter fics to resonate with me, there has to be this special blend of humor, kindness, dorkiness, and a sexiness you didn't expect. this fic is all of that and more.
reminiscence by @projectionistwrites this was one of the first joel fics i read and there's something about it that just . . . feels right, feels natural to Joel. there's a raw honesty to both joel and the reader that just sunk into my chest. the back and forth over the drink, the SMUT, everything is just this beautiful snapshot of two lonely people in the apocalypse.
oct' 19 x ghosts by @trulybetty another author that if i tried to choose a favorite, i simply couldn't. betty created a lovely, lovely world with this one (and the rest of the prompts for this one and her december prompts). i love fics that add a new layer to dieter and this one opened him up in a way that made him glow!
renegade by @eupheme my personal favorite brand of joel is one that comes alive between reader's thighs. more boulder than human until you bring something to the surface. and this totally captures that. im a sucker for a good qz fuck-that-verges-on-love and i adore everything about it.
Dominica by @ohforficsake if you ever need proof that notes do not reflect the quality of a fic, look no further. the language, the mastery of tension, and beauty of these descriptions are one two punches that knock me on the ass. genuinely one of my favorite frankie fics of all time.
wanna bet? by @write-and-buried i debated putting this or her celestial navigation fic on this list, but this one just tickles me. i love it when authors throw in a confident, sex-obsessed dieter now and again and this makes me howl. and the DEBAUCHERY of the statue oh my god!
give it to me @sp00kymulderr okay now to be fair, this review is entirely biased. i genuinely love gideon and all that they bring to this fandom. plus, they let me scream about dieter and then sends me dieter pictures that make me scream even louder. this fic is SO important to me. dieter here is everything i need and want: hesitant, anxious, but so madly in love. if i could wake up in one single fic every day, it'd be this one.
stepwise by @the-scandalorian i joined this fandom through din and this has been, and always will be, one of my top favorites. the evolution of din from being touch averse to LUSTING after it, it kills me. it's a oneshot but so much is accomplished in such a short time. the writing here is simply superb.
salvatore by @devilmademewriteit i came for the premise, stayed for the smut, and continued for the banter. i go back to this one all the time for inspiration with my own writing and then i get sucked in and read the whole thing through -- twice. javi drives me absolutely wild in this.
a whole new can of worms by @hier--soir i accidentally read this out of order initially, but this was just reason for me to reread it from start to finish. fwb!joel can be really hit or miss for me, and primarily because this fic sets the standard. this feels like a real joel, a joel that has lost and found loved ones all through out his life and now in jackson, he can finally relearn what it means to be a lover. so good, so fun with the banter -- and the friggin' greenhouse scene -- woof!
telltale heart @astroboots i am a SUCKER for 'frankie fixes his life' fics and this is one of the best. there are consequences for his choices in colombia, one that almost has him lose his family, and the woman he loves. this a real, genuine struggle for two people to overcome a seemingly impossible challenge in their marriage. you know the phrase, love conquers all? yeah this is that fic.
brand you in the way it counts by @charnelhouse charnel was one of the first authors i read for the pedroverse -- and i mean i READ her. i read every single one of her fics at least twice and this one always sends me over the edge. it's such an inspiration to my own writing and i keep going back to her whole body of work to be reminded i can always improve my own writing
west by @radiowallet when people want to know why fanfic matters, i want to show them this fic. it is achingly beautiful and written with a loving and gentle hand. joel is a messy, broken man but still capable, still good, still wanting to find love in this and i adore everything about this. Oneshots can be more devastating than multichapters because they end and this is one of them that drags me back to it constantly.
And to that weird little dude out of Chile who has no idea how much light he brings to the worldâŚ
Much love, Taylor đ¤
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hey guys i just wanna get something out of my chest and im gonna say it as it is, if it sounds mean, i promise you i do not mean it to come off like that. ivw gotten a few asks and even a couple of comments on nyi that rub me the wrong way. i wanna address it this way because i dont wanna make anybody feel attacked, since im pretty sure no one actually meant to cause upsetting feelings.
im deeply, infinitely grateful to everyone who read nervous young inhumans, whether if they read one paragraph and didn't like it or they're actually still here with me. knowing that ppl have given/ are currently still giving my writing a chance is so encouraging to me because i never ever imagined i could finally get over my insecurities and actually put my writing out to the world.
what im trying to say right now is that, sometimes (based on some of the feedback ive gotten, specially recently) a lot of people dont actually stop to consider that every writer is different. ive seen writers on ao3 write hundreds of fics of over hundreds of thousands of words in one year or less, and that is actually amazing, i truly admire them, and i wish i could be like them. but the truth is, ill probably never be able to match up with those writers and that is absolutely fine, because im my own person, with my own life and process, im writing in a language that isn't my own, and going through things in my personal life that thanks to my mental conditions, usually affect my way of living each day.
i understand the frustration of wanting more, of getting the ending you deserve as fast as possible, and im honored that you actually want to stick around for that, but please keep in mind im a human being and im constantly trying my best. for me, having written more than 150k words for a story in a language that isn't my mother language while living in an environment that's unstable, is an achievement in of itself, and i wish more people actually stopped for a few seconds to try to take that in. im a writer, but unfortunately that's not my livelihood, i don't get paid for anything i post and i dont want to, because i do it for myself, because i love it, and i care.
so like i said, im certain that no one who's made these upsetting comments meant to come off as negative, but id like to take this opportunity to ask you to stop and think on how you word your feelings, because i can promise you im always, always, trying to do my best, especially when it comes to writing, it's my favorite thing to do, and if i could, id finish my works 10x faster.
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ohh if you can i would appreciate some tips!! honestly writers are so admirable we dont give yall enough creditđđđ
well, for me to give you the absolute best tips i can to help out, i need to know what exactly you're struggling with when it comes to writing. there are about a million different tips i can give you for about a million different things and some of those tips will be completely useless to you
for now though, i'll give you the things that help me getting into a writing mood + general tips i give to new writers and if you still need further help you can explain what exactly you're struggling with and ill do my best to help out;
1) whatever you learned about formatting essays; forget it.
a common thing i see in new writers is they try to write it like an essay. which isn't a bad idea really, but it is restricting. your paragraphs don't have to be four or more sentences. they can only be one if you want. it's your story, format it however you want. you don't need to follow rules
2) listening to music
this is mostly for when you have that one specific scene in your head but have no idea what to do for the rest of the fic. listening to music and connecting the lyrics to the characters you're using is a great way to get your mind thinking. one song can give you several different ideas depending on how you interpret it
3) make sure you are in a good mood
personally, i cannot write to save my life if im upset or just generally having a bad day. i know some people can use creating as a way to cheer themselves up, but it just doesn't work out for me lol
4) if you don't need background noise, don't use it
it's pretty easy to get distracted when writing, especially when you have something new playing. if you do need background noise of some kind, i would advise playing instrumental music or that one movie/show that you've seen a thousand times and could quote in your sleep. keep your focus on your writing
5) brackets will be your best fucking friend when writing
one of the most important things about writing is keeping your flow going. if you find yourself writing sentence after sentence for a good while and then you suddenly hit a stop because you don't know how to word what happens next; throw it in brackets and write the scene after it. its the same reason why you're told to skip questions you get stuck on when taking a test. let your brain do what it knows it can and come back to the tricky stuff later.
6) you don't have to write anything in order
you don't have to write a story exactly start to finish. you can jump between any scene you'd like and find out how to connect it to a different scene another time. this kinda ties into the last tip in the sense that you gotta let your brain do what it knows. if you only know the beginning and the end then write those first and figure out the rest as you go. if you need to edit either one of the previous things then that's okay. there's no shame in changing things around, it's just how creating things go. sometimes change is needed
7) writing prompts
for new writers, i like to tell them to find a prompt online to write a story for before they start their own. using a prompt someone else made keeps your brain from getting overwhelmed, allowing you to focus more on finding a writing style that works best for you. using writing prompts also lets your brain find ways to contribute to a story without having it make everything while also figuring out how to put it on paper. it's easy to overwhelm the brain, so let it get used to writing before you start creating your own ideas. (this is also something i advise to people who experience burnout or just cant think of anything to write. your brain just needs a break from creating ideas right now, go and find a prompt for it)
8) word count
listen to me because this is so important; ignore the word count. you need to focus on learning, not how much you're writing. it doesn't matter if you only wrote 50 words when other people have fics well over 50k. ignore it. you are learning, you'll get there eventually. if you focus too much on how much you're writing you're going to stress yourself out and ultimately drive yourself away from ever writing again. treat word counts as milestones. start with 50, then 100, then 150, then 200, etc. let yourself work towards it slowly rather than push yourself too hard right out the gate. you can't expect to draw the mona lisa the first time you put a pencil to a paper, so don't expect to write thousands of words the first time you write a story. it'll take time, and that's perfectly okay.
9) analyze the shit out of your characters
this is easier when writing fanfiction, but take a few hours to learn your characters. find the content they're in and hyper-focus on what they're doing. pay attention to their speech patterns, their body language, their relationships with others, etc. if they're not in a scene, try to imagine they are and what'd they do and/or say if they were. it'll help out with keeping them in character when writing
10) if you get to a point where you can't write anymore even when using brackets; stop writing for the day
we have our limits. you will get to a point where you can't get another word down and that's okay. it doesn't matter if you've only written a handful of words, close your program and wait until you feel motivation hit you again. if you keep trying to force yourself to write when you just can't then you're going to burn yourself out. the most probable reason for this is writer's block, which means you need to focus on other things for a while. give your brain time to recollect itself. it's annoying, i know, but it's better for you if you just let your brain do what it needs to. it knows how to take care of itself, so let it.
i also have a tag i use whenever i give tips, so you can check those out as well to see if anything helps! it's just writing tips
#if these end up not helping you that is okay#everyone is different#what works for me wont always work for you#mess around with it until something does work#just remember not to push yourself too hard#learning takes time. don't rush it#writing things#writing asks#writing tips#anon#anonymous#anon ask
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Solitudinarian (A horror short story Im writing)
(Little pre-thing this is my first time really posting anything of this kind on Tumblr and So im gonna post this story in chunks and as I write more do little updates also very rough draft) âWe interrupt your current broadcast to bring an emergency broadcast, this broadcast is being brought to you by the United States Public safety department and is a message to all residents of the United states. There have been a total of 500 thousand people coming into hospital with symptoms never seen before in any known virus. Symptoms observed have been red eyes, nose bleeds, ringing ears, irregular behavior, sleep walking, violent and sporadic movements, twitching, and overall brain failure. All cases of this virus have been fatal, and those who haven't died are now missing. Those infected have reported seeing shadows in the corner of their eyes, or feel like they are being watched. Along with infected individuals, sightings of tall and disfigured silhouettes have been spotted around neighborhoods. If you make contact with any of these creatures, make distance between you and the entity. If you or a family member are suffering from sickness, do your community a favor and keep yourself indoors and locked inside. For those uninfected lock all doors and windows, stock up on supplies, and do not leave your home. Have trust in your government, May god be with us allâ.
The TV broadcast rips through the air once more. It's the same old message that has been repeated for the last 2 months. I tune in just for the chance of there being an update, a chance that maybe this whole thing will all be over. As the same words play again I hit the power button to the box Tv leaving me alone in the darkness of my living room. My stomach growls and I feel my body ache at me telling me it's time to eat, all these days that have strung together hunger is the one of the things that's at least stayed the same. I stand up feeling my body ache and looking around at the can littered floor I make my way to the kitchen. Flicking on a light switch, blinding myself for a few brief moments. As my eyes adjust I lay sight to the dirty counter space that matches the off white walls. A cockroach crawled from under the fridge and almost as fast as it crawled out it scurried right under another counter. Taking a deep breath I open the cupboard to be met with stacks of canned food. Sighing deep I grab one of the cans of food and pry it open, my eyes are met with the can of meat that I'm only half sure what's in it. But it's better than starving so I sink a spoon that I had found on the nearby table into the meat. It gushed liquids and made a disgusting noise as I dug into it. Getting a spoonful I take a bite and chew, it's the same stuff I've been eating for days now. The disgusting taste is now almost welcome. As I finish the can of food I lay it on the counter with the rest of the empties. My eyes are heavy, I've been awake for far too long, it's probably best I get some rest. I leave my kitchen and make my way down my hallway, that seems to extend for miles due to the beckoning darkness. I stumble down the hall passing the bathroom door, I arrive at my bedroom, it's lit by a dim lamp revealing the piles of clothes and several empty bottles of water. I fall onto my bed reaching to grab my medicine from my bedside table. I take 2 pills and lay my head on my pillow and let the mattress grab ahold of my body. As I close my eyes I feel myself drift off into the void of sleep, Maybe tomorrow will be different.
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hi i would like to request something đ could you write about the reader having toxic parents so jimin comforts her like heâs always holding her hand or caressing her cheek and he speaks to her very softly oh and also gentle kisses? and one day the members asks him why heâs acting this way towards her and you can imagine the rest<33
parentification
pairing: bf!jimin x gf!reader (established relationship au)
wc: 1.2k
warnings: being parentified, ungrateful sister and parents, basically the family ain't and will never be shit (maybe), cursing
a/n: im gonna ignore that this is all the way from february, and simply present this and run away. please enjoy :D
Jimin was heated. He had watched you have a full on argument with your parents about whether or not you needed to pay rent for an apartment your little sister was on the verge of getting kicked out of.Â
Their logic was:Â
Your boyfriend was mega rich. Â
That was it. That was all they had to say. It didnât matter how many times you told them that you were responsible for yourself and rarely asked Jimin for any help. It didnât matter how many times you told them that you were already paying for college and all the expenses that came with that. Your only saving grace was living with Jimin that helped alleviate your own burdens. Â
Nothing mattered except your sisterâs rent which she was already four months behind on. Why the landlord let her stay there for that long is beyond both you and Jimin. That was almost two thousand dollars they wanted from you, and you had no plans on giving it.Â
You had already paid the time and patience when you were younger, having to hustle to pay the light bill and buy groceries so you and she wouldnât starve to death. You had barely managed to go to your prom had it not been for your school librarian taking pity and paying for your dress and dues.
So no, you wouldnât sacrifice anything now.Â
Did it hurt to have to tell your sheltered sister no? Of course.
Tears streamed down your face as you remembered how your sister had practically called you selfish and dishonorable. Refusing to admit she was the one who needed to take responsibility for her own carelessness.Â
And thatâs why Jimin found himself parking on the side of the road, heaving you over the console, and hugging you until you stopped shaking and hugged him back. Small kisses placed on your cheeks and a few caresses of your back and you were more than okay.Â
âThank you Minnie.â
â____, you donât need to lend a penny to those people.â
âThose people are my family, Minnie. What else am I supposed to do?â
âLet them deal with it. Your sister dug herself into shit, let her pull herself out. Itâs time you stop giving them things when they haven't given you anything. ____, I canât even remember them actually giving you a gift for Christmas. In fact, I clearly remember last yearâs Christmas, and you had to give your mom, sister, and father gift cards all worth two hundred dollars because they stomped all over you. Baby, fuck them.â
Jiminâs words were hitting home and it made you worse. More tears fell as you nodded, agreeing with him. It was time to cut off contact. As much as you hated it.Â
Taking a deep breath, you crawled back over to the passenger seat.Â
âReady to get moving again, or do you need a moment?â
âIâm ready Jimin.â
Meeting with Namjoon and Yoongi had been the plan for today, even though Jimin had wanted to stay home and love on you all day. However, neither of the older men were having it and basically forced him to meet them in Yoongiâs studio.Â
âYou need to stop being so clingy to ___. Otherwise, sheâs going to get uncomfortable,â Yoongi said as he opened an unfinished song that the three of them were working on.Â
âI disagree with that, Yoongi. ____ acts the same way. I wonder what Jimin has done to earn that type of love,â Namjoon jokes.Â
Jimin rolled his eyes and waved the two of them off. Not his or your fault that you cared deeply for each other.Â
âSo funny. Anyway, Namjoon, you know a lot about different things. Can you help me with something? I need some advice,â Jimin asked.Â
Namjoon turned swiftly away from his computer giving Jimin his attention. âSure. If I can help, I will.â
âOK. ___ has been having some family trouble for a while. And yesterday was terrible. I told her to move on from her family, but now Iâm wondering if that was shitty advice.â
Yoongi spoke up first. âNo. If her family ainât shit, theyâre not worth having in her life. Mind telling us what they did.â
âNot really my place. But basically, and ___ has told me this, theyâve parentified her.â
âWhatâs that?â His older brothers asked at the same time.Â
âItâs when a child gets the role of a parent to their siblings or parent. So they have to act as the caregiver at a young age. ___ has been in the parent role for a long time, and they canât seem to let go of the fact that sheâs no longer able to be controlled by them.â
âThat sounds like a problem for them. ____ is definitely able to cut ties with them. I think you have her good advice.â
âI agree with Namjoon. Good advice. If she decides to cut ties, and they somehow figure out they were extreme assholes and apologize, it would be up to her to figure out whether or not she wants to repair the ties she cut,â Yoongi cosigned.Â
Jimin nodded and made a mental note to tell you that.Â
âAnymore questions? I want to get started on recording this song and put the finishing touches if we need any.Â
âNope.â
â_____!â Jimin called out into the apartment.Â
âMinnie, Iâm here in the kitchen. I got hungry.â
Jimin pouted as he held the bag of fried rice tightly. âBut I already picked up food.â He strolled into the kitchen to see you already scarfing down some ramen.Â
âIâm always down for fried rice. Iâll eat some after I finish this.â
Jimin pouted more, but poured a few spoonfuls of the rice into a bowl for him and a few for you.
âHowâd the recording go?â You asked him taking a spoonful of your rice.Â
Jimin groaned and swiped a hand through his hair, âAn intern came in to help us add some beats, and then accidentally deleted everything we worked on. We tried to just take it out of the recycle bin, but apparently, things like that, just get straight up deleted. So now we have to start completely over from scratch.â âAw, Iâm sorry Minnie. Howâd they even manage to do that?â
âBeats me, baby. How was your day?â
When you didnât respond right away, he glanced up from his bowl and eyed you. You were suddenly pushing rice around your face, refusing to look at him.Â
â____? Whatâs up?â
âImayhavewentaheadandpaidformysisterâsbullshitrentandthentoldallofthemtokissmyblackass.â You said in a rush.Â
If Jimin hadnât been paying close attention, he mightâve missed everything.Â
âYou paid?â
You nodded, meeting his eyes. âAnd told them that if they wanted anything else from me, they would have to come find me. They humiliated me yesterday. I refuse to take anything else from them. So like I said, they can kiss my black ass.â
Jiminâs eyes were wide as he started clapping for you. Your face heated, but a smile was slowly spreading.Â
âYou shouldâve seen the look on their face, Minnie. Priceless,â you laughed and then gasped as you remembered another detail. âAnd guess what else I did!â
âMiddle finger?â âNo, but I should have,â you said. âBut I had printed out several companies that were hiring around my sisterâs place, put it in an envelope, and chucked it at her face!â
âThatâs not as badass as you think it is, love.â
âI will not hesitate to cut you off too, Park Jimin.â
#park jimin#jimin#jimin scenarios#bts jimin#namjoon#yoongi#jimin x reader#jimin fluff#jimin angst#jimin fanfic
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hi, this is not ask but opposite! it's me talking and is about Pacific standard time, now Im not as good as you in turn my thoughts on words but; you know how some songs only hit you when it is the time?
the other day because of the heavy snow I couldn't go back home, trapped in small twon, on sunday was standing in corner of yard at 12pm, noticed the silence, time hadn't stopped but landing smoothly on my black winter coat with the snow flecks, and there I thought of this song. this song had a melody I enjoyed yet it didn't much make me think of it, often skipped it,
Clouds may be moving in People may be too thin Traffic may be a crawl
Seasons, thereâs none at all
there looking at cloudy sky coating sun deep into background I fell into the time of small twon world, thinking of how time passes differently, we all live on one earth but thousands of world runs by many more clocks yet there are moments times of worlds crashes into one another causing near-divin experience by living in time of unfamiliar world!
In Pacific Standard Time Mine is yours and yours is mine In Pacific Standard Time Everything is near-divine!
also I read the answer to last ask. and I thought it would be fun if I be the one who explain it this time around (:
Yes!!! Do please share your thoughts on songs! I love reading your thoughts and interpretations! I absolutely know how some songs only hit you once it's time (or intensify when the time is right).
I love how it made you think of all the worlds and the different clocks that all exist at the same time, that must have been a truly beautiful experience :) I love that so much! It's wonderful how their lyrics can contain so many thoughts and ideas at the same time. Thank you for adding another angle to a song I already love so much.
Honestly, it's one of my absolute favourite tracks on that album. I remember first listening to the album so vividly, and that song was one of the especially memorable ones. At its core, there's two things I hope for when listening a new Sparks album/song (without confining them to be a certain way because what I love foremost is for them to do whatever the hell they want and for them to blow me away with some good surprises). But for me it's all about: 1) Ron's writing, wit and piano playing, 2) Russell's voice being the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. This song is quite possibly THE song on the album when it comes to Russell's voice. Every time I hear it I'm just floating into another plane of existence (especially the falsetto parts). I don't have the words to describe how much I love his falsetto.
(My Sparks roots may be showing - I first saw them live during their Two Hands One Mouth tour, which as the name suggests was just the two of them on the stage. It was all about the things I love the most: them at their core and just the two of them carrying the entire show. It was theatrical, intimate and absolutely transcendental. I love the way Russell moves and how the audience became like a third instrument. It completely changed my life. I don't think I've ever heard Russell's voice be more beautiful, in part because you can obviously hear it so clearly when it's just them on the stage. I wanted to share a snippet of the live performance of Metaphor from that tour because I think you might like that one, but the sound quality of those videos does not do his voice enough justice when reaching the falsetto part. ...So instead I'll add a bad quality video of Good Morning, one of my favourite songs. A lot of this song was completely sung in falsetto. (And here's a link to an official live audio recording of Metaphor, in case you are interested to hear his voice in actual good quality.))
(You can count on me to always bring up more stuff when it comes to Sparks, and to talk about Two Hands One Mouth at any given opportunity.)
#i want to add way more but I'm getting so sidetracked đ I'll just go lie on the floor with my feelings instead.#thank you for sharing your thoughts! please keep doing so - I really enjoy it!#ask#anon#sparks#Russell Mael#Ron Mael#pacific standard time#Two Hands One Mouth#(... if you think that's a double entendre - well yeah that's because it is đ this is Sparks.)#(forever cracks me up. 'what shall we call this up close and intimate tour?' 'oh I know!')#(ok time to lie on the floor and scream into the void - I love these guys a normal amount.)#sparks ask
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