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narnian-neverlander · 2 months ago

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For You, Always [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: You press your forehead to his lightly and whisper your thanks again, and “What you did was more than enough. You will always be more than enough.” He tightens the arm still looped around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, the hand on your face slipping to the back of your neck, mirroring you. This is how things have always been between you two and how they should stay: clearly caring and loving, yet a certain line never crossed.

Word Count: 4,7k

Warnings: slight angst, self-worth issues (both of them need a freaking hug), internalized ableism, talk about a non-consensual relationship (nothing explicit/graphic or sexual, but reader’s ex is clearly an abusive, ableist pos)

This is part of a series of stand alone One-Shots that all feature the same reader, you can find the masterlist here :3

A/N: Jayce is playing matchmaker, because both Viktor and the Reader have such bad self-worth issues, they’re not gonna get anywhere unless he whacks them over the head with his hammer

“According to Mel, he is an absolute ass, but unfortunately one of the most influential people in Piltover, so—“

“Unfortunately, he’s also kinda, sorta my ex…” you mumble into the rim of your glass, interrupting Jayce and it is comical, cartoonish almost, how his head turns to look at you so fast you’re afraid his neck might snap. Not to mention Viktor accompanying his reaction perfectly by choking on his own drink. You watch Jayce open and close his mouth several times until he finally settles on: “That guy? Seriously? Didn’t think that was your type…”

He casts an incredibly unsubtle, overly obvious glance over at Viktor as he says this and you would’ve loved to strangle him for it; thankfully the man in question is too busy coughing up fancy champagne to notice, he does however manage to get out a “Oh please tell me you lost a bet.”

Downing the rest of your drink in one go, you shake your head. “Gods, I wish. Just… young and stupid and naive and always too eager to please and — and he’s coming this way. Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.” You all but flee the scene about to unfold, grabbing another glass off a passing waiter’s tray as you make a break for the nearest balcony. Your friends watch you disappear into the crowd with worried frowns; Jayce’s statement of “Probably a pretty bad breakup…” getting answered with an eye roll and a heavily sarcastic “You think so? I never would have guessed.”

The next hours are spent hopping from hiding spot to hiding spot, snatching drinks and snacks off trays whenever you manage while keeping an eye out for your personified worst nightmare. By some godly miracle you manage to utterly avoid the man and the next familiar face you spot when you dare venture back into the crowds is the Man of Progress himself, surrounded by nobles and merchants alike, polite smile on his face as he makes conversation. A polite, fake smile in danger of slipping that you spot from a mile away. Catching a glimpse of the band getting ready to strike up another song, you decide to be merciful and rescue him. It’s not entirely selfless though, as you figure if the asshole does end up spotting you, watching you dance with Piltover’s very own golden boy might be a good enough repellant.

“Excuse me, Mr. Talis?�� Relief floods his features as he turns around to find you right behind him, having shoved your way through the circle of admirers. “I hate to interrupt, but you did promise me a dance. You’re not the kind of man to go back on his word are you?” Voice all sweet and coy and honeyed, batting your lashes at him; the picture perfect flirt making starry eyes at the man leading the city of progress into a brighter future. And it takes all he has not to burst out laughing, because he’s seen this from you before, except it’s usually not him on the receiving end of it, but his partner. It is charming, endearing even, he will admit. No wonder Viktor can never say no to you when you look at him like that. And right now he’s beyond elated you’ve decided to play his saving grace for some reason, so he wouldn’t even dream of turning you down.

“Of course not. If you’ll excuse me.” he states, ignoring any protests from bystanders and guides you to the dance floor with a hand on the small of your back. He leads you into a waltz and waits until you’re swallowed by dancing couples until he lets his face drop into an exhausted grimace. “Oh sweet Gods, thank you. Anymore of that and I would’ve driven the cocktail sticks into my ears.”

“You’re welcome. How did you even end up like that, though? Where’s your better half? He’s usually pretty capable of getting you both out of situations like that.” He sends you a knowing grin as he spins you. “Oh so you think he’s the better half? Ouch.” It earns him an eye roll, but you’re smiling nonetheless. “Like you don’t know I have a favorite. Now answer the question, golden boy.” There’s hesitation before he answers with, “He went home for the evening.” and you almost fumble your next steps. “Excuse me? The bastard begged me to come along for weeks and now he just ditches? The only reason I agreed to come was because he actually promised me a dance.”

Jayce hems and haws and you’re ridiculously close to intentionally stomping on his foot to get him to cough up an explanation; luckily for him he manages in time. “No, no, it’s more like… I sent him home cause if he would’ve had to be in the same room as your ex any longer, I was genuinely afraid he’d take the guy’s head off with his cane.” The laugh that bubbles up from your throat is joyful and real; Jayce has always been good at defusing your irritation with humor. It takes another few seconds and another look at his face to realize that he’s dead serious and your laughter dies on your tongue, leaving behind the taste of ashes. “You can’t be— He— What?! I left you guys for two hours max!”

“Yeah, well…” he starts as he dips you, “your ex has a way of getting under people’s skin.” No shit. But you’d honestly thought Viktor was above it. “What did the asshole do? Dismiss Hextech as an obsolete fantasy?” Shaking his head, he leads you into another turn. “No, quite the opposite, actually. He was incredibly interested, but his demands for becoming a sponsor were ludicrous, to put it mildly. Final say in the direction of Hextech, majority of the shares, unrestricted access to all stages of development and… you.” This time, you do stumble over your own feet in shock, falling straight into his chest. “Pardon?!”

The poor man looks as uncomfortable as you feel as he explains. “Apparently he saw the three of us talking earlier and one thing led to another and— fuck, I don’t know what happened between you, but that man is absolutely not over you. For some reason that is entirely beyond me, he was under the impression that because we’re friends we’d somehow be able to coerce you into being with him again. And the way he was talking about you? Gods, it made me wanna punch him in the face; it was so utterly vile I can’t even repeat it. Scratch that, I just really don’t want to.” All things considered, you’re glad for his hands steadying you, cause the room’s spinning even without the dance you’re still enagaged in and you feel like you’re gonna loose all the fancy hors-d’oeuvres from earlier on the polished marble floor any second now. “Great. Lovely. Perfect. And how exactly does Viktor fit into this now?”

He sighs. “Honestly, I can’t repeat what he said either.” This seems to ground your spiraling for a moment and you cock a brow at him. “Are you kidding? He’s usually pretty eloquent.” To say you’re surprised when he snorts in amusement would be an understatement. “I mean I literally can’t repeat it, because he was so utterly livid, he slipped into his mother tongue and while I can’t be sure, it didn’t exactly sound like he was complimenting the guy.”

Finally all the pieces click into place and when they do, you slow your steps to a stop and blink up at your friend owlishly. “He… Viktor got upset on my behalf?” The way he so openly laughs at you makes your ears burn and your fist connects with his chest in a halfhearted punch. “I don’t see what’s so funny about that!” Catching your hand as you ready yourself for another swing, this time aimed at his stupid, handsome face, he reigns in his laughter and simply smiles at you; not mean spirited or teasing, but shockingly gentle and sweet. “You really can’t even begin to understand the way he sees you, huh? The lengths he’d go to for you?”

The anger and embarrassment in your veins all but evaporates, replaced by something soft and warm; heat gathering at the back of your neck and the balls of your cheeks for an entirely different reason now. Your mouth drops open as you try to formulate some sort of response, only to fail miserably; incoherent stuttering and beginnings of words the only thing you manage to produce. The music finally fades out and is replaced by applause for the band as your friend chuckles and inclines his head towards the door. “You should go talk to him.” A glance over his shoulder shows you the gaggle of potential investors you’d saved him from earlier already making their way towards you again. “And you’ll survive if I leave you alone with these people?” An overly dramatic sigh is your answer. “I’ll gladly sacrifice myself for your happiness.” The ‘my hero’ he gets in return is dripping with sarcasm as he winks at you and makes a shooing motion towards the exit, then turns around to head back into the fray, giving you a clean escape.

Freezing winter air hits you as you exit the venue; bitingly cold but a welcome change from the sweltering warmth of the gala nonetheless. Starting left, you catch yourself after only a few steps to reconsider. Left would be Viktor’s apartment. Right would be the lab. You know him better than that, don’t you? So you change directions, readjusting your scarf over your nose. It’s a relatively short distance to the academy, even so your fingers are starting to go numb when you reach one of the big, heavy doors leading inside. The hallowed halls are quiet and dark, making the high ceilings and ornate walls seem even more imposing than usual as you make your way towards the lab with hurried steps. It all feels like you’re doing something illegal - or maybe it would, if all the security guards hadn’t seen you hang around the two Hextech pioneers often enough for you to know all their names by heart at this point. Arriving at the lab, first glance tells you it’s as empty as the rest of the building. Except for the tiny sliver of light peeking out from under the door. Bingo.

You gingerly, quietly press down on the handle, not wanting to involuntarily startle the man you know to be inside, just in case he’s handling something explosive. One experience like that had been enough to last you a lifetime. You’re in luck, as you instead find him hunched over one of the desks, furiously scribbling notes onto various scattered pieces of paper, muttering under his breath. The small lamp at his side casts deep shadows across his face, but you’re still able to make out the frown; thick eyebrows drawn together in irritation and lips pressed into a thin line. He couldn’t possibly still be upset about what happened at the gala, could he? No, impossible. Preposterous. Idiotic. He’s hit a roadblock in his equations, that had to be it. But seeing as you’re not in any danger of accidentally causing him to blow you both to pieces you make your presence known to him.

“I do believe Jayce told you to go home, didn’t he?” Viktor almost drops his pen in alarm, swiveling around on his stool to find you have sidled up to him, leaning against the desk, in the process of ridding yourself of your coat and scarf, an amused grin on your lips. He puts a hand over his racing heart, as he says “And a heart attack is a fitting reprimand for my crime in your eyes, yes?” You only raise your brows in return, smile slipping from your face, disapproval obvious in your eyes as they flit towards the clock in the corner of the room for just a second; it’s the same look he always gets from you when he’s working when he clearly shouldn’t be. Running a hand through his already messy, chestnut hair, he shrugs. “I simply didn’t feel particularly tired when I left.”

“So I’ve heard.” you muse and pick up a random cogwheel from the table to fiddle with. “Apparently you had some… disagreements with a potential investor?” He clicks his tongue in annoyance and all but chucks the pen still in his hand across the desk. “Potential investor, don’t make me laugh. That appalling, pathetic excuse of a man shouldn’t be allowed in a five mile radius of anything Hextech. Or a five mile radius of you, for that matter.” Humming in both agreement and intrigue, you continue with what’s really been eating you up. “Jayce said you hit him with some choice words. Mind repeating those for me?” A sideways glance your way to confirm you’re certain and then he launches into a repeat of his rant from earlier that evening. He gets about three or four words into it before you throw the cogwheel at him; it bounces off his shoulder and lands on the floor with a ping. “Oh someone thinks he’s particularly funny tonight. In a language I understand, maybe?” Try as he might to hide it, you catch the corners of his mouth tugging upward slightly. “That’s not what you asked of me, though.” Know-it-all bastard.

“Oh how dare you?” Hopping up on the table for additional theatrics, you grip your chest in mock offense and throw your head back dramatically. “Here I am, having braved a journey of freezing winds and complete darkness, to bestow my thanks upon you and you don’t even have the courtesy to thrill me with a retelling of your courageous deeds. Disappointing, truly.” A pointed cough into his fist does little to hide the laugh at your antics. “Please, the venue is a ten minute walk from here and all the streets are lined with lanterns. You’ll need to try a little harder, miláčku.”

Huffing, you run a hand over your face, desperately trying to hide how much the nickname affects you and give you a second to think. Your salvation stares at you from the other end of the lab, the golden horn of the phonograph glinting in the light of the moon that filters through the windows. And he immediately knows he won’t like what comes out of your mouth next, with the way your eyes flash and your lips curl in an absolutely wicked smile. “Well you see, I still haven’t been paid for tonight.” Confusion is clear as day in both his face and his voice. “I do not recall discussing payment for your participation in the gala…?”

“Oh but we did!” you giggle as you hook your foot around the center of his roller stool to drag him closer, very much enjoying the look of utter shock on his face and the slight graze of his hands on the sides of your things as they land on the desk next to you to try and regain his balance. “A certain someone promised to dance with me if I showed up. Guess who ditched before he made good on that?” At least he has the courtesy to look sheepish, a little knowing ‘Ah…’ sound escaping him as he rubs a hand over the back of his neck and drops his gaze to his lap. With how the night had gone, he’d genuinely forgotten all about it. And before the night had even started he’d hoped you’d forget. He really should’ve known better. A finger enters his field of vision to poke him in the chest. “You’re in luck; I am nothing if not merciful, so I’ll leave it up to you: a dance or an explanation. So what’ll it be, darling?”

He’s beyond grateful you can’t get a proper look at his face at the moment, with how pink he knows his cheeks to be, lest you realize how much the nickname actually affects him. And this shouldn’t be such a hard choice, really; the way his heart stutters at just the thought of either, he should be doing both. Besides, you deserve to know. Deserve to know that he’d told that pompous swine to go choke on his wine the moment he’d as much as uttered your name. Told him that he shouldn’t even be allowed to breathe the same air as you, much less be allowed close enough to touch you. That he could amass as much money and power as he liked, he’d never be worth even a fraction of you.

You deserve to know all of that. And yet he doesn’t tell you. Because while he did what he did for your sake, it had still been selfishly motivated. Because if he tells someone interested in you off, then at least it feels like you’re his, even for just a second. Because the irony of the situation is that while your ex might be undeserving of you, so is he. For different reasons, yes, but he feels it’s true nonetheless.

So he doesn’t tell you any of it, his personal demons are not your burden to bear after all, simply grabs his cane in silence and walks over to the phonograph. Slow notes of a gentle melody fill the air a few moments later, as he turns and offers you his hand.

And you’re absolutely shell shocked, to say the least. This is… not the choice you’d been expecting. Words are his forte; he’d always choose them over physicality if given the opportunity. Or so you’d thought. This doesn’t make sense to you; why was he so desperately trying to keep what he’d said about you a secret? Or had Jayce completely misunderstood the situation he’d recounted to you and Viktor had never said anything about you at all? Why would he bother to anyways? You and your past demons aren’t his burden to bear, after all. The uncertainty must be written all over your face, as you’re met with a concerned, “Are you alright?”

It’s a simple enough question, with a simple enough answer, yes or no, but all of a sudden, you’re a child again. Sitting bruised, bleeding, soaked to the bone and crying your little heart out in the shallows of one of the offshoots of the river, an altercation between you and some other kids having turned out to be another case of you biting off more than you could chew. And then a little pale hand holding out a dirty handkerchief had appeared in your peripheral, belonging to a small, lanky boy with a cane and big, worried golden eyes.

Are you alright?

You hadn’t known him then. But you’d taken his hand anyways. Had decided to trust him. He’d never once let you down since and you have no reason to doubt him now. So you do the same thing in this exact moment as you did all those years ago: just take his hand and trust him.

He pulls you flush against him, hands linked behind your lower back, your own coming up to rest on his shoulders. It’s nowhere near as elaborate and elegant as your waltz earlier this evening, more of a simple swaying from side to side, but it doesn’t have to be. Not for you. Not as long as it’s him.

Smiling softly, you say, “A dance with each one of the Hextech geniuses in one night. I must be the luckiest person in Piltover.” He hums in acknowledgment. “And do you have a preference?”

“Oh come now, that is an utterly unfair comparison.” And your heart aches at the way his face falls just the tiniest bit. “I’ve had my preference for years, regardless of dancing abilities; poor Jayce never even stood a chance.” It’s quiet and subtle, barely more than a deep breath in and out, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. “Don’t tell him that, it’ll break his heart.” In direct comparison to him, the bark of laughter that escapes you is loud and boisterous, only amplified by the muted, soft atmosphere surrounding you both. “Please, he knows. He’s been yanking my chain about that for a bit.” Not that you particularly mind; it’s a chain you wear proudly and for all to see after all. You’d shout your love for this man from the highest towers of Piltover if only he asked. “Besides…” you start while tucking your head into the crook of his neck, “I’m here dancing with you because I want to be. I really only danced with Jayce because I thought if… if you-know-who saw it, it might keep him off my back a little longer.”

A slight turn of his head has him nuzzling your hair; the hushed whisper of your name almost sounds pained as his arms tighten around you protectively. He isn’t sure what exactly happened between you and your ex, but he’d be willing to bet that the nature of your relationship hadn’t been… consensual. It’s plain to see that the man scares you and it makes him sick. Angry. Desperate. But most of all, he’s disappointed - in himself. The conversation him and Jayce had had with him had been one thing; the bastard knew how to behave at least somewhat diplomatically while there were people of importance present. Of course, Jayce, and by extension, you, couldn’t know that he’d had the misfortune of running into him yet again while he was leaving. He’d had to listen to that waste of oxygen in expensive clothing talk about you like you were nothing more than a filthy piece of his property yet again and this time around he hadn’t managed to remain even remotely civil. Had thrown every curse and threat under the sun in two different languages his way. Had hissed at him that he’d turn him inside out if he ever even looked at you again - only for the pig to laugh in his face, pat his cheek condescendingly and give a disgusted, embarrassed look at his cane, telling him that he was ’welcome to try’ before vanishing back into the crowd. Viktor had wanted to scream at the top his lungs; it had been a while since he’d felt so utterly livid, yet so humiliated and useless at the same time.

And here you are, wanting to thank him for some courageous, chivalrous deed he didn’t actually commit. Looking at him with the biggest eyes, like he’d hung the stars in the sky just for you, when in reality, he couldn’t even properly defend you against someone who’d clearly hurt you. He has to tell you. He’s not the hero you think him to be.

“About what I said to him—“ is as far as he gets, as you promptly cut him off with, “Don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter.” Not even ten minutes ago, you were essentially blackmailing him into spilling this secret and now you don’t care anymore? “I would argue that it does.” He feels more than sees you shake your head, your hair tickling his cheek. “You stood up for me, right? That’s all I have to know. It’s enough.”

Anger and disgust come back full force, choking him like bile rising in the back of his throat, not aimed at you, never at you, but at himself.

“It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out so harsh and bitter and cold.

“It’s plenty.”

Soft and sweet and warm, the exact opposite of his own words in every way; the reassurance and comfort he’s supposed to be offering you dripping from every word. When did your roles get reversed? You’re the one in distress and you’re comforting him? He’s not just useless, he’s absolutely pathetic. And even though you might be none the wiser to his self destructive thoughts, some part of you seems to know; it always seems to know as your fingers dance across his shoulders to busy themselves with the hair at the nape of his neck, calming his nerves.

“I haven’t had— I mean, no one’s ever— Most people—“ A sigh, a clear sign of frustration as you try to get your thoughts in order, warm breath fanning over his neck, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. “I can count the people who ever stood up for me over the course of my life on one hand; I mean, my birth parents never even bothered to. So knowing there’s someone who has my back, even when I’m not present? It’s…” Pulling back to look at him, his breath catches at the way the silvery light from outside empathizes the affection in your eyes and the tenderness of your smile. “It’s a nice feeling. Thank you.”

His hand is moving before his brain has time to play catch up, cupping your cheek and all but melting when you nuzzle into his warmth, eyes fluttering closed.

“For you? Always.”

He’s not sure he’s ever seen you look quite so peaceful and at ease and it feels like his heart is gonna jump right out of his chest; his gaze is drawn to your lips before he can fully think about what that could entail.

He watches your lips part slightly and when he manages to wrench his golden eyes back up, he finds yours already on him, wide in astonishment and he knows he’s been caught red handed.

And you consider yourself most fortunate, cause if he’d looked up even a second earlier, he would’ve caught you staring. The air is heavy and promising and whoever makes the next move decides wether or not things between you both are gonna change irrevocably.

Tonight, you’re the one that makes that decision. The decision that you’re not ready for things to change. You like what you have and are too scared of losing it. Instead, you settle for something different, yet just as poignant and important; a clear and explicit expression of love for people from Zaun. Softly tugging on his neck, he goes oh so willingly, happily even. You press your forehead to his lightly and whisper your thanks again, and “What you did was more than enough. You will always be more than enough.”

He tightens the arm still looped around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, the hand on your face slipping to the back of your neck, mirroring you. This is how things have always been between you two and how they should stay: clearly caring and loving, yet a certain line never crossed.

Neither one of you notices the music coming to an end, replaced by the scratchy static of needle against vinyl, too wrapped up in the moment, in each other. A bell tolls outside, signaling the coming of midnight and just like in a fairytale, the spell you seem to be under comes to an abrupt end. With a deep breath, you step back, putting some much needed distance between you, if you want your brain to function properly again, that is, and clear your throat awkwardly. “I uh… I should be getting home. Some people still have a regular day and night schedule, unlike you.”

With a small smile, you go to gather your coat as he switches off the phonograph. When he turns back to you, his heart falls in disappointment; you’re already dressed and halfway to the door. He would’ve liked to walk you home, at least, but you honestly look like you’re fleeing from something; he apparently has imposed on you enough for tonight. Pausing with your hand on the handle, you call his name again, delicately, quietly. When your gaze finds him, you’re pleased to find his full attention already on you.

“Next time you’re pulling an all-nighter… save me another dance?”

And with the way his golden eyes start to shine like the stars and his beautiful lips quirk up into that crooked half smile you adore, you can almost believe Jayce’s words - almost.

You really can’t even begin to understand the way he sees you, huh? The lengths he’d go to for you?

“For you? Always.”

#arcane viktor x reader #hurt/comfort #arcane #gender neutral reader #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #viktor arcane #league of legends #dancing #childhood friends #fluff #angst #mutual pining

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jjkamochoso · 1 month ago

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JJK Men Reacting to You Self Harming

Angst, fluff

Request from Wattpad

JJK men x gn!reader

Warnings: cussing, sensitive topic at hand under the break!!! Please do not read if this will trigger you in any way, shape, or form. My only intent is to comfort those who might need it❤️ there won't be any super graphic depictions, but I will mention scars, bruises, blood, etc. so please be mindful of your ability to read this without causing discomfort! Remember that you are worthy and loved, and there are so many other things you can occupy your mind with than hurting yourself... please take care of yourselves❤️

Yuji:

You and Yuji were sparring like you usually did, opting to practice together since you made a great team. Your training shorts were just long enough to cover your self harm scars and since they were older, you weren’t too worried about them showing; you assumed no one would see them and if they did, wouldn’t guess how you got them. Yuji grabbed ahold of your legs and flipped you over his shoulder, your body landing in the grass with a heavy thud.

“Good move, Itadori,” you huffed out, taking his outstretched hand as he shot you his trademark smile.

“Thanks, y/n! By the way, those sure are some scars you have on your legs! Whatever you were fighting must’ve been a really strong opponent.”

“Something like that,” you said under your breath. You felt Yuji’s eyes observe your scars that were now visible and hoped he wouldn’t ask anymore questions.

“They’re awfully straight and neat,” he mused before turning serious. “Wait. These look like…” He didn’t finish his sentence but the way you avoided his gaze gave him his answer. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you.

“That’s horrible, y/n, I’m sorry you ever felt like you needed to do that to yourself. I know my support probably isn’t enough to immediately make you quit doing it, but just know I’m here for you if you need someone to talk to. Self harm is never the right answer.”

You melted into his loving embrace. “I already feel better, Yuji. Thank you. Seriously.”

Megumi:

You ran right to your dorm room after having an extremely bad day, eager to shut out the world and release your frustrations on your legs. You grabbed the familiar tool from your nightstand, creating the all too familiar marks on your body. All of a sudden, you heard a knock at your dorm door.

“Y/n? You in there?” Megumi called out. You quickly covered your mouth with your hands, accidentally cutting your finger with the razor blade and letting out a small whimper from the unexpected pain.

“I’m coming in,” he announced, opening the door.

“Please don’t!” you yelled out, but it was too late; he was standing in your room, his eyes trailing over the blood beading out of various parts of your body. He was completely emotionless as he walked out, leaving you to try and comprehend what just happened. You figured he’d never want to talk to you again; your weakness probably disgusted him. You gently dabbed at your wounds with a tissue but they wouldn’t stop bleeding. To your utter surprise, Megumi came back, a bottle of water, clean rag, and bandages in his grip.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out.

“Cleaning you up,” he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You sat in silence as he softly wiped your leg, bandaging your cuts. He then grasped your hand, cleaning and bandaging that wound as well.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” he eventually asked tentatively.

“Not really,” you replied, “but I should. I’ve been hiding this for so long that it strangely feels… okay that someone knows.”

“Good. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this to yourself ever again.”

Yuta:

"Y/n! What happened? When did you get hurt?"

You turned around in the hallway that was completely abandoned, save for you and the wide eyed boy that had just passed you by.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" you responded, thoroughly confused.

Yuta tilted his head. "Your leg is bleeding through the bandage. I saw it when I walked by you."

Your head whipped down to look at your thigh and saw the bandage you had applied earlier that day was now dangerously close to falling off.

"It's nothing!" you exclaimed much too quickly for Yuta's comfort.

"Are you sure? Let me help you change it," he suggested, walking closer to you at an alarmingly fast rate.

"No! I'm okay, I promise." You spun around, ready to hightail it to your room, but Yuta was too quick. He had gotten ahold of your arm to keep you from running and peeked under the bandage, observing the long marks riddling your skin.

"Y/n," he breathed out, "these aren't marks from a mission, are they?"

You didn't know how to answer him without making a fool of yourself.

"Please don't tell anyone!" you pleaded, knowing he had caught on to your horrible habit.

"I would never," he replied, his eyes glistening with sadness at the thought of you hurting yourself, "but you should. Or at least try to stop. You don't deserve this punishment you're inflicting on yourself."

You stayed silent, unsure what to say. Yuta brought you into a bone crushing hug, his tears falling onto your shoulder.

"I will help you get through this. Just, please, don't burden yourself with this any longer. I'm right by your side, always."

Inumaki:

As you opened your dorm door to go get breakfast, you saw a note resting on the ground outside. It was lying underneath a freshly picked flower and you hummed in excitement, wondering what all of this was about.

You read the first line of the now-unfolded note: Please don’t be mad at me~

You recognized the handwriting to be Toge’s and you sighed, reading on to see what he did this time.

I’m not sure how to approach this correctly so I hope you understand that I only want the best for you. I saw your fresh scars when we were playing video games last night and I wanted to ask you about them but didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I hope you know that you are worthy and loved, and that you should never feel anything less than. I can’t imagine how much you must be struggling to be able to hurt yourself in such a way. I want you to know I’m here for you and want to help in any way I can. Seeing you hurt so bad SUCKS. Please come to me when you’re feeling down. I’m always here for you.

—Toge

Reading his letter made you feel like you were going through all the stages of grief, but by the last sentence, you didn’t feel anything but relief. When you glanced up from the paper, you saw Toge strolling about, trying to look as casual as possible.

“I’m not mad, you know,” you called out. Toge’s eyes brightened immediately and he practically ran over to you.

“Thank you for this,” you said, gesturing to the flower. He nodded in acknowledgment.

“Also, thank you for saying something. I know that must’ve been hard, but I’m glad you did. It’s something I’ve dealt with for such a long time but knowing I have someone to turn to is… I’m grateful for you.”

“Tuna,” he replied, giving you a comforting hug.

Noritoshi:

Noritoshi was helping you clean out your bedroom when you stumbled upon your collection of razor blades. You hadn’t used them in a while but you saved them just in case your habit reared its ugly head. You urgently yet discreetly tried to move them out of view but he was too fast.

“What are those for?” he wondered, taking a step closer to you.

“Nothing,” you replied suspiciously, holding the box behind your back. “It’s just trash, that’s all.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not stupid. What’s in there?”

You bolted from his unyielding stare, hoping to throw the box away in a dumpster outside, but the Kamo clan heir was too fast and blocked your path away from utter embarrassment.

“Show me. Now. Because I think I saw razor blades in there and I want to make sure.”

“What does it matter?” you seethed as Noritoshi took the collection from your hands. With his fear confirmed, he set the box out of your reach.

“Next time, cut me.”

“What?” you asked incredulously.

“Cut me,” he repeated, his voice steady. “If you hurt so bad that you want to punish yourself, punish me instead.”

“I could never hurt you like that, Noritoshi,” you said, your voice small. “It would kill me to see you in pain.”

He walked over and gently took your hand in his. “That’s exactly how I feel knowing you hurt yourself in the same manner. Do you understand what I mean?”

You did—that’s what bothered you the most.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I care about you and because of that, I worry for you. If you hurt, I hurt. If you bleed, I do too. You don’t have to struggle on your own. I’m here for you, day and night. When you need something, anything, please, get ahold of me. I don’t want you opening this good for nothing box ever again.”

You looked deep into his anxious eyes before burying yourself in a hug with him. “I promise to come to you when I need help. Thank you for being here for me.”

“Of course. It’s the least I can do.”

Todo:

You didn’t know how it happened—one minute you were eating lunch with Todo, the next you had blood dripping from your now opened wounds on your legs. You knew you should’ve bandaged yourself before leaving your dorm this morning but you thought your wounds weren’t serious enough for that. As you tried to dab at your scars with your napkin, Todo stood up in distress.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, slamming his fists together in anger.

“I did,” you replied sheepishly. Todo stopped, confusion sweeping over him.

“I don’t get it,” he replied, “did you mean you accidentally hurt yourself?”

“No,” you said nervously. You debated on telling him the truth or not, but he had already seen your scars. It was only a matter of time before he asked the other students what had happened to you, describing the appearance of your wounds, and then the whole Kyoto school would know your secret.

“I self harm,” you admitted, “and I’m ashamed. I’m weak. I let my emotions control me and the only way I gain back control is by hurting myself. It’s pathetic, I know.”

“No it’s not,” he said immediately. “I may not understand it, but I know it’s not pathetic. To fight your own mind like that… that is a battle not easily won.”

“You got that right,” you remarked.

“If you allow me, I will help you fight. We’re not meant to take on enemies alone. I will do everything in my power to make sure you never feel so low as to hurt yourself again. This is my most sincere promise.”

Todo put a hand over his heart as he gazed at you with utmost certainty. You didn’t know what to say; his immediate response overwhelmed you in the best way possible.

“Aoi, I… just, thank you,” you said, wrapping your arms around the huge man. He returned the gesture tenfold, holding you close to him.

“Anything for you.”

Ino:

“Hey y/n, it’s Ino. Listen, can you meet me at my apartment in like, half hour? I need to talk to you. It’s nothing serious-wait, I guess it is, but, like, no one’s dying or anything. But yeah it is serious but not worryingly so. Just moderate serious. Okay, let me know. Bye!”

You stared at your phone screen for a good minute trying to process the chaotic voicemail you received. You sent Ino a text saying you’d be there and he opened his door on your first knock.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you with my voicemail but I really need to tell you something. Well, more like ask you something, too, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, I’ll get right to it. I saw the scars on your thighs the other day and they looked like self harm ones to me. I hope I’m not making a huge mistake asking you this but… do you? Hurt yourself, I mean?” he asked, ending his rant. You were quiet for a second too long in Ino’s eyes so he raced to fill the silence with explanation.

“Not that you need to tell me or anything! I’m chill with you doing what you need to do to cope with things but that’s not exactly the best way to do it. Not that I’m a professional! I’m also not trying to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, I just want what’s best for you and-”

“Ino, take a breath, please,” you said, releasing a short laugh as you rested a hand on his. “I’m fine with you bringing this up, weirdly enough. I thought the first time someone found out I’d be freaking out but… I don’t know. It feels good to not be the only one who knows, you know?”

“Oh? Oh! Wow, yes, that is good,” he replied, pulling his beanie off and swiping his free hand through his hair before turning more serious once more. “Again, I’m sorry for springing this on you but I’m worried for you. I hate seeing you in pain and not feeling like you can share your troubles with me. You shouldn’t have to take your frustrations out on yourself. I’m always gonna be here for you to talk things out, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, wiping the stray tear from your cheek. “Thank you. I appreciate you more than you know.”

“And I care about you more than you think.”

Gojo:

"Geez, you have a bad run in with a cat or somethin'?" Gojo asked, peering down at you with his one eye uncovered by his blindfold.

"What are you yammering about, Gojo? Some of us are trying to work here," you said, rolling your eyes. You were currently at a cafe with Satoru, sending a quick email from your phone before digging into your pastries.

"Your leg" was all he said, a long pale finger pointing at your shorts-clad thigh, but it was enough to make you feel like you were about to drop dead from cardiac arrest. He had seen your self harm scars.

"Oh, those. Yeah, a cat," you grumbled, tucking your leg away where he could no longer see it. You pretended to be enveloped in your phone but Satoru knew something was wrong.

"You're acting weird and the more I think about it, those markings were weird too. Unless that cat really hated your guts."

You ignored him which only made him pester you worse about it.

"What'd you do to it? Step on its tail? Pull its whiskers? C'mon, tell m-"

"It wasn't a fucking cat, Satoru, I did it to myself, okay? Just drop it," you exploded. For once in his life, Satoru was speechless. You were so ashamed of your confession that you stood abruptly from your chair.

"I'm going home," you told him, leaving your food behind as you slammed the cafe doors open. You didn't want the strongest sorcerer to hear about your struggles, your weaknesses.

You certainly weren't expecting him to follow you.

"Wait! Y/n, hold on," he called out, his long legs easily catching up with you.

"Leave me alone. I don't want your pity," you snarled.

"Pity? No way, I just..." He was trying to think of the best way to approach this newfound information without scaring you off. "I just want to talk to you about it. A genuine, serious discussion."

You stopped walking. "Who are you and what have you done with Satoru?"

He pouted. "I'm not joking. I don't want you to feel like you have to resort to hurting yourself ever again, and I think it might be helpful if you know you can come to me about anything. But I can't help if I don't know the whole truth."

You contemplated it for a moment, but you knew Satoru wouldn't offer to do something he didn't actually want to do.

"Okay, yeah. That would be nice. Thanks."

Satoru wore a small smile and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Now, c'mon. No good therapy session starts on an empty stomach."

Geto:

You and Suguru were enjoying a fun day at the beach, playing in the water and frolicking in the sand. As you laid on the blanket to indulge in the picnic he laid out for you, your shorts rode up your leg a bit, showcasing your newest self harm scars. You were completely oblivious, indulging in yummy fruit while Suguru couldn’t tear his eyes from your marked skin.

“Y/n, darling? Have you been feeling alright… emotionally?”

Your arms bristled with goosebumps but it wasn’t from the cold fruit you just swallowed.

“What brought that question on?” you asked nervously, trying to casually pull down the leg of your shorts to cover the scars. Little did you know it was too late.

“I won’t mince my words. I just saw your scars and I know you did that to yourself.” He reached out to grab your hands but you backed away from him in horror.

“Suguru! It’s not what it looks like, I-”

“It’s alright, I’m not upset. I’m just extremely worried,” he explained, his eyes muddled with guilt. “I wish I had seen it earlier. I know what it’s like to struggle. I want to be there for you so you don’t drown in pain like I did.”

You listened to his words, carefully soaking in everything he said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you replied quietly. Suguru reached for you again but this time you didn’t back away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner,” he responded. “Will you allow me to help you?”

After a few moments of decision, you nodded your head. “Of course. I trust you and I’m ready to release this heavy weight I’ve been feeling for so long.”

“I’m glad,” Suguru said, giving your hand a squeeze as he looked out at the sparkling sea.

Nanami:

"Darling? Everything alright in there?"

You mentally cursed yourself out. You had been upset all day over something minor and, yet again, took your frustrations out on yourself, but you must have been too loud this time, your hisses of pain overheard by your boyfriend Kento in the other room.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" you called out, not wanting him to walk in on you as you tried to bandage yourself up as quickly as possible. You heard footsteps come closer to the bathroom door.

"Are you sure? You sound like you're in distress."

"I said I'm fine," you snapped back, holding a towel to your injuries to staunch the bleeding. You saw the door handle move and your breath caught in your throat--in your haste, you hadn't locked it.

"Don't come in!" you yelled, but it was too late. Kento's eyes trailed over your bleeding thigh, confusion written all over his face. He stepped closer and you grimaced, knowing nothing got past his watchful eye.

"Those markings... you..." He trailed off, a look of knowing crossing over his features. "You sit. I'll clean you up."

Your face burned with embarrassment but you did as he said, not wanting to make things harder on yourself. It was quiet as he kneeled before you and patched you up, the silence making your heart skip a beat.

"You don't have to do this to yourself," he said simply after a long bout of silence. When you didn't reply, he looked up.

"The world is already cruel. You don't have to punish yourself further," he stated, his eyes softening at your exhausted body language.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," he interrupted. "Don't be. If anything, I should apologize for not noticing sooner." His fingers traced over your previous scars as he placed the last bandage on and took hold of your hands. "Do you want to talk about it? Whatever's been bothering you? You shouldn't have to suffer alone."

You nodded, grateful for his lack of judgement.

"I'll make us some tea first," he told you, placing a kiss on the top of your forehead. "I love you and I'm always here for you. No matter what."

Choso:

You were busy hanging out with Choso at your apartment, watching tv and enjoying your time together.

“Could you get me a hair tie please?” you asked Choso. “I have one on my bathroom counter.”

“Of course,” he replied with a gentle smile, eager to help you in any way he could. You thought nothing of sending him in there until he hadn’t come back after a good 5 minutes. You followed after him, wondering if you had inadvertently put the hair tie away and confused the poor man.

“Did you find it?” you called out from your bathroom doorway. Choso turned around and you gasped immediately. In his hands were the bloody tissues you used that morning which he must’ve pulled from the trash; you forgot to empty the can before he came over.

“Y/n… what is all of this? Did you get hurt and I didn’t notice? I could’ve bandaged you up. Are you alright now?”

You felt like your world was crumbling down. How could you lie to the man standing in front of you who looked like he was about to start sobbing? You floundered for an excuse but found none—your mind was totally blank.

“I, um, this morning… it’s not your fault you didn’t notice. I’d actually prefer it if you never noticed. I don’t know how to tell you but… I hurt myself.”

His face contorted into confusion. “How? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You paused. “Actually, no, I’m not fine. I cut myself many, many times. It’s a horrible, nasty habit that I can’t seem to kick and I’m sorry that I kept it from you and I’m sorry that you found out this way and I’m also sorry that-”

“Don’t apologize,” he said softly, dropping the tissues back into the trash and scooping you into a hug. “I don’t understand why you would do something like that, but I want to. I swore to protect you from anything and I intend to uphold that promise. Please, let me help you.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “Okay. I’m ready to talk. I’m ready to… to heal.”

Toji:

“I hope you don’t mind but I let myself in.”

You jumped up with a start at the sound of Toji’s voice. You forgot you had given him a key to your place! Normally you’d be ecstatic to see him but you didn’t want him to see you in your current outfit. Since you weren’t expecting company, you were lounging around in shorts, leaving your self harm scars on display.

“I need to change!” you spurt out, clamoring to get away from the large man, but he was too quick (and eagle eyed).

“Those are some brutal scars you got there,” he remarked, pointing to your legs. “I can’t imagine what the other guy looked like after your fight.”

Toji expected you to laugh, or at the very least let out a tiny sigh from your nose, but you were deadly silent.

He frowned. “What’d I say?”

“N-no, nothing, I…” you trailed off. You didn’t know how to tell him. You wished you could’ve played it off, went along with his joke, anything but be in the situation you’re in now. You drew in a deep breath. You couldn’t hide this from him forever, anyway.

“They aren’t from fights. I did it to myself,” you explained, not meeting his eyes. Now it was Toji’s turn to be quiet. You were afraid to see his reaction. Would he laugh at you? Leave, slamming the door and never coming back?

No, Toji was…comforting you?

You felt a large hand grasp your shoulder, prompting you to finally face him. You were greeted with his serious expression, features set in a rare show of resoluteness from the man.

“Never, ever, do that shit again, okay? No matter what you’re feeling or thinking. You come to me the second you feel any type of feeling that might lead to that again. There’s no way I’m letting let you add another mark to that pretty skin of yours.”

You nodded, fighting back tears at his unexpected understanding of your situation.

“Now c’mere,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug.

127 notes · View notes

kathlare · 2 months ago

Text

please please please

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie’s new music video shoot is full of energy, but it’s the undeniable chemistry between her and Lando that steals the show.

Wordcount: 0.9 k

Warnings: smau, fluff

full masterlist // request over here!

June 8th, 2024 - Los Angeles CA

liked by landonorris, zendaya, and others

ameliedayman: heartbreak is one thing, my egos another!

link in bio💋

View all 10,485 comments

landonorris: The video was hot, but I was the hottest part. 😏🔥 → ameliedayman: @landonorris You wish, babe. I was the one burning up the screen. 😘

f1gossiper69: Lando really out here living every man’s dream 😩

fashionfreak24: Omg the chemistry between you two… more than I can handle. 😍🔥

lilnorrisfan22: Can we talk about how Lando’s acting skills went from 0 to 100 real quick? 😂 → landonorris: @lilnorrisfan22 Had to step up for my girl. 😜

maxfewtrell: Song’s fire but y’all need to tone it down with all the PDA. 🤢

landonorris: PLEASE can you stop looking so good in this video, babe? 😵‍💫 → ameliedayman: @landonorris I told you, you can’t handle all of me. 😉

hayesgrier: Acting or not, Lando’s got some serious simp energy in this vid. Respect. 😂 → landonorris: @hayesgrier When it’s her, it’s not simping, it’s dedication. 😉

f1fanatic69: That was way too much, I almost passed out watching it. 😳

keeganpalmer: Damn, the way you two look at each other... I felt that. 😳🔥 → ameliedayman: @keeganpalmer Told ya, we’ve got that special spark. 😉

thisisrozzi: Y’all seriously made the whole music video a masterpiece. Proud of you, babe. 💖 → ameliedayman: @thisisrozzi Couldn’t have done it without your support, love. 😘

minniemills: Okay but how do you make heartbreak look so… chic?? Obsessed. 😍

aaliyahmendes: Queen behavior!!!

stelladayman: I don’t care what anyone says—Oscar-worthy performance, sis. 👏 → ameliedayman: @stelladayman Coming from you? High praise. I’m crying. 🥲

consarroyuelo: ¿Cómo le haces para estar TAN diosa siempre? Quiero tu secreto. 🔥👑 → ameliedayman: @consarroyuelo Solo me dejo llevar por el drama, amiga. 😉

francisca.cgomez: Obsessed with the video, the song, the vibe… EVERYTHING. 🔥 → ameliedayman: @franciscacgomez You’re my vibe. Love you. 💋

fan3: This is giving main character energy and side-eye to all the exes. Iconic. → fan4: @fan3 Bet they’re crying in their bedrooms rn. 😂

emiliamernes: Esta canción es ARTE. Ya quiero escucharla en vivo🔥 → ameliedayman: @emiliamernes Siempre un show para ti, reina. 💋

madisonbeer: Obsessed. That’s all. Obsessed. 🔥 → ameliedayman: @madisonbeer Takes one to know one. 😘

--------------

Months before...

The set was buzzing with energy. Crew members darted back and forth, adjusting lights and setting up props, while Amelie adjusted the fit of her outfit in front of the mirror. The air smelled faintly of hairspray and perfume, the low hum of chatter mixing with the faint sound of music playing from a speaker nearby. Today was the day: the shoot for her new music video for Please Please Please, and things were about to get real interesting.

She stood in front of the mirror, her hands running over the satin fabric of the dress, a subtle mix of elegance and seduction. The song wasn’t out yet, but the buzz around it was already building. The video was going to be something special—something fun, a little cheeky, just like the song itself.

—Amelie, we’re ready for you,— the director called out, waving her over to the set.

Amelie’s heart fluttered. She had been looking forward to this all week. And she couldn’t help but feel a little extra excited because today—of all days—her boyfriend, Lando, was here with her.

—Ready, babe?— Lando’s voice came from behind her.

She turned to face him, her lips curving into a grin. He was dressed in black jeans and a slightly oversized, well-worn graphic tee that only added to the effortless charm he exuded.

—I was born ready,— she said with a wink, slipping her arm through his.

Lando smirked. —I’m sure you were. But this time, you’re not getting all the attention.—

—Oh, please,— she teased. —You’re lucky I even agreed to let you be in my video.—

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear. —You’re not the only one who can pull off a look like this,— he whispered.

Amelie gave him a playful shove, her smile never leaving her face. —You’re such a dork.—

But even as she said it, she couldn’t help but admire how good he looked—how good they both looked together. She had to admit, this whole idea of putting him in her video had been a bit of a wild thought at first. But now, with him by her side on set, she was excited for it.

—Alright, Amelie, Lando, you two ready?— The director’s voice cut through the playful banter.

Both of them turned to face him, ready for action.

The video concept was simple but effective. Amelie would be in the spotlight, of course, singing her heart out to the camera, but the dynamic with Lando was what would make it really special. The video was all about chemistry—about flirtation and tension—and who better to share that with than Lando himself?

The first few scenes were just her. She sang the opening lines of Please Please Please, the camera following her as she moved through a minimalistic, yet luxurious set. The lighting was soft and seductive, casting shadows in all the right places, making her look like she belonged in a dream.

Lando watched from the sidelines, his arms crossed and a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Amelie could feel his eyes on her, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her pulse quicken.

When the time came for him to join her on camera, the atmosphere shifted. Lando stepped onto the set, looking effortlessly sexy as he leaned against the bar that had been set up for the scene. The chemistry between them was undeniable from the moment their eyes locked. The director had told them to play it cool, to keep it casual—but it was impossible. Their connection was too strong to pretend.

As Amelie sang, she moved closer to him, her body swaying to the beat. Lando’s eyes tracked her every movement, his lips curling up in that way he always did when he was amused—or aroused.

Amelie couldn’t help but tease him, letting her fingers brush against his chest as she danced around him. The playful touch sent a jolt through both of them. She knew exactly how to get under his skin, and he was loving every minute of it.

—You’re distracting me,— he said, his voice low, the hint of a growl in it.

She grinned, biting her bottom lip. —You like it.—

—Damn right I do,— he muttered, his hands sliding from the bar to her waist as he pulled her closer.

The cameras were rolling, capturing every moment, but Amelie could barely focus on that. Her breath hitched as she looked up at him, his eyes dark with that familiar hunger. He was making her feel things she probably shouldn’t have been feeling while on set, but it didn’t matter.

—Lando,— she whispered, her voice a breathy tease. —Stop looking at me like that. We’re supposed to be working.—

He smirked, lowering his face until their lips were almost touching. —Who says we can’t mix business with pleasure?—

She was just about to respond when the director’s voice came through the intercom. —Okay, you two... let’s keep it professional, yeah? We don’t want to break the camera.—

Amelie let out a laugh, pulling back slightly to catch her breath. She couldn’t deny how intense the moment had gotten, and from the way Lando was looking at her, he was feeling it too.

—I think they want to see us be professional, love,— she teased, her fingers brushing through his hair.

Lando groaned, clearly frustrated. —I swear, you drive me insane.—

Amelie shot him a knowing smile. —Maybe you like that.—

The director called out again, snapping them both back into the moment. —Alright, let’s pick it up from where Lando pulls Amelie closer for the kiss. Remember, it’s playful, flirty, but no full-on makeout. We want tension, not a porno.—

Amelie and Lando exchanged amused looks before Amelie grabbed his shirt and yanked him closer. —Let’s give them a show, then,— she whispered before capturing his lips in a teasing, yet heated kiss.

It was a brief moment, just enough to get the shot they needed. The cameras zoomed in, capturing every little detail—the slight smirk on Lando’s face, the way Amelie’s body molded against his. The tension between them was palpable, and they both knew it.

As they pulled away, Amelie couldn’t help but laugh. —So much for ‘keeping it professional.’—

Lando chuckled, his hand lingering on her waist. —Who says we can’t have a little fun while we’re at it?—

They didn’t need to say anything else. They both knew that when the cameras stopped rolling, they’d have plenty more to discuss. But for now, they were in their element—flirty, fun, and undeniably hot together.

And just like that, the day was over. The last take was wrapped, the crew began to pack up, and the set slowly emptied out. But as Amelie and Lando stood there, the energy between them hadn’t died down.

—You really do make everything fun, don’t you?— Amelie said, looking up at him with a smile.

—I try,— he replied, his hands finding her waist again as he pulled her in close. —You make it too easy.—

And with that, they walked off set together, ready to face whatever the night might bring.

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and-claudia · 5 months ago

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Against All Odds pt. 12 (Joel Miller x fem! reader)

General Warnings for later on: The main story will have an age gap between Joel and the reader (Reader will be 25 once we get to the main storyline), this will also be your warning that it will eventually be an x pregnant reader (if that’s not your jam, I’m sorry) there is also going to be more graphic/trigger parts later on so please always to be sure to read the warnings BEFORE reading. This story will also be 18+ and TO BE ON THE TAGLIST YOU CAN NOT BE AN AGELESS BLOG (i do actually check that) also there first hand full of parts are all prologue so Joel won’t actually be in it for a bit

warnings for this part: mentions of suicide, mentions of coming out (it's not all super heavy, I promise!!)

ALSO!!! I am making a decision that kinda contradicts an earlier part... I am adding this note so you know, earlier I was going off Joel's age based off the show, I am now changing it to be his age in the game just to make a few things work a little better... SORRY FOR ANY CONFUSION!!!!!!!

word count: 2800+

Taglist Sign-Up (read my rules carefully before filling it out)

gif not mine

Ellie’s PoV

Once I was sure Yn was out of earshot, I turned to Joel.

“I want to talk about what happens after we find your brother in Wyoming.” I said seriously.

He gave me a weird look, “Okay…”

I took a deep breath before starting, “What’s your plan for me once we get there?”

“Well… Marleen didn’t exactly give us the address of where you were going. So I was gonna ask Tommy if he knew where those Fireflies might be. Get you there… then… I don’t know. Timeline really depends on how long we’re out here, how close Yn is to havin’ the baby.” He explained.

I nodded and was quiet for a moment.

“What if I don’t want to go to Fireflies…” I asked quietly.

“Do you not want to?” Joel asked.

I took a deep breath, “I don’t know…I didn’t want to tell Yn because I don’t want it to stress her out in any way since she’s already pregnant… but I don’t think I want to find the Fireflies anymore…” I watched him to gauge his reaction, but he gave none, “It’s just… I’ve been told I am special, that I am the key to the cure… but I don’t think I am… not anymore. I tried to save Sam… it didn’t work. If I can’t save one person, how am I expected to save thousands?”

I paused.

“And I know this sounds selfish, and I know I am not anything really to either of you, but I don’t want to leave you two behind… you three behind. I want to be here when Yn has the baby and watch it grow into a tiny person.”

I looked at him, trying to fight the tears brimming in my eyes. All I could do was give a small nod.

“That’s not selfish, Ellie. It’s human.” Joel said after a moment, “Yn and I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. And you don’t have to decide anything right now. Trust me, we will have plenty of time before now and Wyoming for you to think and make up your mind.”

I nodded before whispering, “Thank you, Joel. For everything.”

He only nodded back, “Go get some rest. I’ll nudge you in a couple of hours to take a watch shift.” he said, nodding off to where Yn had fallen asleep against a tree.

I nodded and stood up. My mind was still reeling with what the hell I wanted to do. But Joel was right, nothing needed to be decided tonight. We were still far away from Wyoming, I would have plenty of time to decide by then… right?

Yn’s PoV

The following days were fairly uneventful. We walked for hours on end and would rest at night. The sun was setting on our fifth day of straight walking. To say that my feet hurt would be a severe understatement. Joel had said something to me the other day about how I should start showing here soon since I was around 15 weeks now, but currently, the only getting bigger were my feet. I tried not to say anything, though, because I knew their feet must be getting sore, too. But every step we took sent a jolt of pain up my leg.

“Shouldn’t we stop soon?” I asked.

“Eh, the sun’s just now starting to set. We can probably go another hour.” Joel said.

He was a few paces ahead of me when he said it, so he couldn’t see the sour face I made… but Ellie did.

“You okay?” She asked quietly.

“Hm? Yeah, fine.” I said.

She nodded before speeding up to be in step with Joel.

“Damn it, Ellie.” I mumbled to myself as I watched her talk to Joel.

They both stopped walking, which allowed me to catch up with them.

“On second thought, let's just stop for the night. This is a decent clearing. There’s a creek nearby to get some water from. We can stay here for the night.” He said.

“Joel, I’m fine. Let’s go another hour, then stop. It’ll let us get another mile or so under our belt.” I said.

He said nothing but glanced down to where I had undone my boots earlier. They were completely undone to where they would come off, but they were clearly loosened.

“Why’re your boots undone?” He asked, standing with his hands on his hips.

“Forgot to relace them… pregnancy brain. Let’s go. We’re losing daylight.” I said.

“Nope, sit.” He nodded to a large rock beside a tree.

I sighed and did as he said. He followed me over and squatted down in front of me. Once I was sitting, he began undoing my boots. I winced slightly as he pulled the first one off.

“M’sorry.” He said, grabbing the second one and sliding it off gently.

“How long have they been like this?” He asked.

“Started about halfway through the day yesterday. I didn’t want to say anything and slow us down.” I explained.

“You need to speak up when you’re in pain. We’re not traveling tomorrow. We’ll take a day to rest.” He said.

“No, I don’t want to slow us down.” I tried to argue.

“Not resting will slow us down even more. Tomorrow, I want you on your feet as little as possible, okay?” He said.

I nodded, “Can you go fill my water for me?” I asked, leaning over to grab it out of my pack that I had dropped beside me.

“Yeah. Ellie, give me your water, I’ll go fill them. When I get back, I’ll set a trap to try and get us some dinner.” Joel said, standing up and walking over to her.

Once he was gone, Ellie came over and sat down beside me on the ground.

“You didn’t have to say anything to Joel, you know.” I said.

I wasn’t actually mad at her in any way; I was more just frustrated with myself for being the reason why we were taking a break. Deep down, I knew it was out of my control, but it still didn’t help make me feel any better about it.

“I know. But I also know you weren’t going to. Plus, I could tell you were in pain.” She said.

“Thank you… sorry that I’m slowing us down.” I said.

“Eh, it’s not your fault, it’s the rugrat’s.” She said, making me smile.

“I guess you’re right. I just want to make sure we can get you to the Fireflies as soon as possible. I don’t know if they’re on a timeline or something.” I explained.

I noticed that she stiffened up slightly at the mention of the Fireflies.

She let out a nervous laugh, “About that… I talked to Joel a few nights ago… I am having second thoughts on finding them.” She said, looking at me clearly trying to watch for my reaction.

“Okay… any particular reason why?” I asked.

“I am not certain that I am the cure… I just don’t know if it’s worth leaving you and Joel… and the baby for something that’s not a guarantee. And I know I at least want to stay with you until the baby gets here… but then thinking about leaving after that doesn’t feel right either. I just don’t know what to do. I told Joel that part of me feels guilty for even considering staying because I could be potentially saving thousands… but I may not even be the cure.”

“That’s a decision only you can make, Ellie. But it doesn’t have to be soon. We’ll have plenty of time before we even get to Wyoming. Only you know what is best for you… I will say that I would love to have you here when I have the baby. I want them to meet you for sure. But if and when the time comes that you decide to go find the Fireflies, I won’t hold you back. I’ll support you in any decision you make. Come here.” I said, scooting over to make room for her on the rock.

She got up and sat beside me. I hugged her to my side.

“Thank you.” She said.

I only nodded.

“You know, you’re pretty good at the whole mom thing.” She said suddenly, making me look at her.

“What?”

“I don’t know… you just have something that makes me feel like I can share anything with you… like I don’t have to hide anything.” She explained.

“Well, I’m glad. And you really can tell me anything.” I said.

“Okay, well… do you remember how y’all mentioned a boyfriend when asking if anyone would come looking for me?”

“Yeah.” I nodded for her to continue.

“Well, truth is, I’ve never had a boyfriend… and I honestly don’t see myself ever having a boyfriend. If you know what I mean…” She said, glancing over at me.

“I get what you mean.” I said, smiling and nodding.

“You’re okay with that?” She asked, almost shocked.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? You’re not the first gay person I’ve met.” I said with a small laugh.

She nodded as she let out a breath, “Do you think Joel will be okay with it?” She asked.

“Oh yeah.”

“Really, even at his age?” She asked, making us both laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Joel asked as he walked back up with our water canteens filled.

“Nothing.” Ellie said.

“Okay…” He said, clearly not convinced, “I am going to go try and trap something for dinner.”

He collected some supplies before heading off once again.

“So… if there wasn’t a boyfriend, has there ever been a girlfriend? Sorry if that’s too personal, just curious about your life before all of this.”

She hesitated, and I was scared that I had crossed the line. But then she began to speak.

“I don’t know if I would call her a girlfriend… but there was a girl I liked… Riley.”

The way she said told me everything I needed to know at that moment. Riley was dead, and she clearly wasn’t over it yet.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I shook my head, “You don’t have to talk about if you’re not ready. I get it. I lost the last of my brothers years ago, and I still don’t like talking about it. It’s okay.” I said, hugging her close once again.

“I miss her… does that ever go away?” She asked.

I shook my head sadly, “No… it gets easier. Eventually, you get to where you don’t even think about it anymore until something reminds you of them, then hurts again, not as bad as it originally did, but still hurts. Then again, you eventually stop thinking about it until you get reminded again. It hurts, but it's even less than last time. And it continues. It always hurts just a little bit.” I explained the best I could.

She nodded.

“Whatever happened though, it wasn’t your fault… and neither was Sam.” She snapped her head to look at me, “I don’t know what happened with you and him, but Joel mentioned you tried to save him, and it didn’t work… that’s not your fault. I know it’s hard, but don’t blame yourself. And trust me, I know that’s easier said than done. Hell, it’s been over ten years, and I still blame myself for my brother’s death…”

“What happened?” She asked.

“He hung himself… I am the one who found him. He had just done it. I tried to cut him down. I just wasn’t fast enough… My father blamed me for it until the day he died… and I still carry that with me. Like I said, the pain never fully goes away…”

“How old were you?” She asked.

“Doesn’t matter… no one should have to experience that… I was younger than you were.” I said, staring off.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t pry.” She said.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll share more about my brothers later if you want. Some of the better memories.” I offered, and she smiled.

“I’d like that. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have siblings, even just one.” She said.

I couldn’t help but think about how if she chose to stay, then she would definitely be getting one. Although I wasn’t much older than her, just around ten years, I could see her becoming like a daughter to me. And I had a feeling the same was happening to Joel.

small time jump

Within the next three days, we finally found ourselves entering Nebraska. We hadn’t gotten the chance to clean up in a while because the creekbeds were too low, so when Joel informed us of a creek that was deep enough to rinse off in, I was overjoyed.

“You two go ahead and go. I’ll try to trap a rabbit or something.” Ellie said, nodding us off towards the creek.

Joel had recently shown her how to trap things, and she actually gotten pretty good in the couple of days she’s been practicing.

As we walked, I turned to Joel, “As much as I love you, I have only one thing on my mind, and that is to scrub the grime off of me and go sit down and get off my feet.” I said, making my intentions clear.

“Got it. Give me your clothes, and I’ll rinse them with mine.” He said as we got to the creek.

I nodded as I slipped my boots off and then peeled my socks off of my feet. The ground beneath me was cool to the touch and felt like heaven against my swollen feet. I finished getting undressed, tossing my clothes over to Joel, and soon I was in the cool water.

As great as it felt, I was soon getting out and getting my “clean” clothes from Joel. Once again, I was forgoing putting my bra back on for the night and was just about to pull my shirt over my head when Joel stopped me.

“Hey, wait, turn back around.” He called out to me.

I turned to face him, “What?” I asked, confused.

“Just turn to the side again…” He said, staring at me intently.

“What?”

“Just do it, please.” He wasn’t being pushy. Instead, he seemed oddly curious.

I did it and looked at him expectantly.

“When did that show up?” He asked, in slight awe.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“That.” He emphasized, nodding to my stomach.

“Joel, it’s nothing. I’m just a little bloated. I don’t think it’s what you think it is.” I said.

“I don’t think so… no offense, but we haven’t really eaten anything that would be making you bloated. I think you’re starting to show.”

I honestly hadn’t really considered that as a possibility. My mind just jumped to it being bloated.

“Really?” I asked, looking down, it was just barely there, but there was definitely a small bump forming.

“I mean, I’m no doctor, but that’s what it looks like to me. Here, come sit while I rinse off, and we can talk about it more afterward, okay? I’ll be quick.” He promised, standing up and beginning to undress.

Once he was done, he rinsed our old clothes, and we began walking back to our camp. Ellie had managed to catch two squirrels that Joel quickly prepared and began cooking. Then he came and sat by me.

“Sorry if I made you self-conscious or anything… I just wasn’t really prepared for this part of all of it.” He explained.

“Were you not…” I trailed off, knowing that his daughter was a touchy subject for him.

He shook his head, “No, her mom and I were like an on-again-off-again type of thing. Then, at some point, we were off again for a while, and then she showed up at my door out of nowhere with a baby. She was gone the next morning. So, I am a little inexperienced in this part of things… I do vaguely remember my mom being pregnant with Tommy, but that’s about it.” He said with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood from when he started talking.

“Well, you got more than I do. I was the youngest, so…” I said, and he nodded.

“Also, you really remember your mom being pregnant with Tommy… that was so long ago…” I teased.

“I am only 52. I’m not that old, you know.” He shot back, nudging me with his shoulder.

“I know, I just like giving you shit.” I said, looking over at him with a smile.

“You’re lucky I love you. You know that, right?” He said.

“Yeah, I know. I love you too.” I said, leaning over to kiss him.

“You better not be letting those squirrels burn.” Ellie’s voice made me jump slightly.

“They’re not.” Joel said, rolling his eyes, though he wasn’t really upset.

He finished cooking them before dividing up the small amount of meat from them to all of us. After we ate, we settled in for the night. We had one more day of traveling before we would rest for a day. It was slow progress, but it would work. I knew the cold would set in soon, and the cool breeze that blew through the trees just as the thought crossed my mind only confirmed that.

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koko-canie · 1 month ago

Text

❥⠀Orin Ayo Headcannons　｡｡｡

Warnings　𓎟𓎟　 Mentions of Death regarding Drug use , Gun Violence , Body horror , Mentions of abuse , Cult mention ( obv ) , Kidnapping , Trauma etc

NOTES : Nothing is explained in super graphic detail of course but there's alot of dark themes here , its a horror mod so yeah. also some of these headcannons are personal !! don't take these seriously its just my interpretation

DREAM / LIE :

Lie isn't an exact "personification" of someone's trauma , but really an unnamed corpse who like the others is a victim of Tab's cult.

He's called "Lie" by the others as they do no know his actual name nor origins.

he has no memories of his past life

Lie also doesn't talk either , not that he isnt able to but he simply remains quiet for the most part.

Nonbinary , but only bc they cant tell what his gender is ( however he still uses he / him )

HART :

Her and James ( along with Kurt ) have a sibling like bond , James lets her sit around him

is able to remember her past but often doesn't like to.

Before Death she used to be a dancer ( ballet dancer )

while she cant speak very well she does whisper , you can hear her when its very quiet

BAYLEE :

He's very sarcastic but given he's a statue head bust its not surprising

While he isn't chatty , Baylee may make one-off comments or remarks to anyone he happens to see

he cannot move at all , others have to help him move

he has no memory of how he died , nor why he's even in a the cult in the first place

his face being covered in clay prevents him from making expressions but he can change his tone of voice

HUE :

in my mind , his design is different ( /glowingparasite's design of hue is what he looks like in my mind bc his actual design sucks poo poo )

Like a Tiger , he makes a "chuff" sound when pleased or content

he also knocks a lot of stuff over just because ( dudes a huge house cat tbh )

When he talks it sounds more like growling

James sometimes tries to pet hue when he isn't looking ( James is a softy for animals )

PROTOTYPE 3 :

legit cannot speak , only uses sound effects to communicate

i don't have much for her sadly

ETHAN :

He could play just about any instrument

He has a tenancy to move his fingers around when standing ( he's got the tism )

Despite being blind , he still remembers how to play most instruments by memory

Type of dude to say "Wowzers" and "Aw shucks" unironically

has a lisp

HETY :

was originally a pretty devoted followers of the cult , when she died Tab decided to bring her back to life.

very mentally unstable

She does have a body under the mass of ferrofluid and wires , but its very hard to notice and see

she is able to use these wires to grab things and attack ( she attacked lilac so yeah )

Reasoning for attacking iliac was due to her being a big fan but lilac ultimately rejected seeing her because of her sneaking back stage without permission. this lead to Hety attacking lilac.

DOUGG :

His inclusion to the cult was simply because Tab didn't like him. Dougg didnt actually do anything.

before death he was a gambler

he's a pretty sneaky dude though , sometimes playing pranks on the others for the hell of it

Likes to mess with James because of his reactions

AZ-TF :

When they talk it sounds like two people speaking at once

AZ has the deeper voice and TF has the higher one

they have no memories of their past

They often bicker about small things

STANLEE :

Before his death , he was actually friends with Andrew ( and even lived with him for a while )

When Stanlee is sober he is surprisingly well spoken and actually pretty smart

His addiction developed at 21

Due to his now ferrofluid blood , he cannot become sober and is forever high

he struggles with his memory

ACHETURE ( FLICKERR ) :

Can communicate though words on its screen

despite being a TV , its still sentient

Acheture still retains its memories before death

KURT :

He's often around James or Hart as he doesn't trust the others. ( its like a sibling dynamic )

Originally he was very scared of James , this changed over time

He also likes to keep the duck around for comfort

Kurt likes to draw to show how he's feeling

His vision is very blurry

CRATZ PURR :

Oldest within the cult in terms of age

he's just everyone's grandpa

he's a nervous wreck however and tends to get overly worried about the others

his voice sounds sorta autotuned with an organ

LILAC :

She's a lesbian ( sorry but i cannot see her dating a man , i don't ship her with neester at all :/ )

she still has her guitar but she cant play it

She considers Ethan to be a little brother

she frequently argues with James due to him being rude to everyone

Before her death she was very influential in the goth rock scene

JAMES :

I already wrote some headcannons for him in this post but ill add more

he struggles with empathy and often disregards others alot

despite this however he is very nice to Kurt and Hart

he also likes the duck

DERICK :

He isn't able to speak , like at all

i don't have anything for him srry

DUCK :

She's basically the cults pet

James is responsible for feeding her

KASKI :

Bi disaster

Often makes internet references that nobody understand ( aside from Baylee and Ethan )

Meows at people ( vocal stim )

has attempted to plat games on prototype 3 before

The hands on her body are tattoos but they can move

ANDREW :

He's a very slow talker , his voice is also very low

He often sings sea shanties to himself

when alive , he lived along the coast. from there he sailed off for fun.

at some point he met Stanlee when he was alive and even let him live with him. the two were very very close. however one say Andrew would get high and fall off his boat , resulting in his death. this had lead Stanlee's addiction to worsen and lead to his death too.

Andrew often stays around Stanlee within the cult , even if Stanlee cant quite remember him. ( doomed yaoi oops )

#🚋⠀ 〉⠀Coach⠀Cabins⠀╬═⠀Creations 。#incredibox #incredibox mod #orin ayo #tragibox #orin ayo stanlee #orin ayo james #lilac orin ayo #incredibox orin ayo #incredibox fanfiction #stanlee orin ayo #incredibox tragibox

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bitchesuntitled · 3 months ago

Text

This is Halloween

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader Summary: Frankie can't stand zombies but Nora wants to watch a scary movie. Warnings/Tags: Parents to Lovers universe but can be read as a standalone, Nora's a little shit, cussing, zombies, Frankie may be a little paranoid, Frankie hates zombies, scary movies, Goober gets her own Halloween costume, Humor, teensy bit of fluff, I think that's it. If I'm missing anything let me know! A/N: Everyone thank @whocaresstillthelouvre for letting me steal her idea. She unleashed one sentence and my brain went "OMG. NORA AND FRANKIE!" Thank you @beefrobeefcal for your eyes and for making me a moodboard! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Masterlist||Parents to Lovers||AO3

divider by @saradika-graphics

Goober perks her head up from your lap, hearing the garage door open.

“Are they home?” You ask her, scratching behind her ears. She gives a soft bark before using your thigh as a backboard to bounce off the couch to the back door, meeting the girls as they enter.

“Mom!” Nora says excitedly, digging into her bag, “Look what we found!” She pulls out a costume, proudly showing it off.

“A zombie?” You ask, “Since when do you want to be a zombie?”

“Since she saw it at the store,” Missy laughs, “She had to convince my dad to buy it.”

Nora having to convince Frankie of something isn’t anything new, but a halloween costume? That’s weird.

“What’d you get, Miss?” You ask, waiting for her to dig into her bag to present you with her costume.

“Beetlejuice!” You laugh, clapping your hands together, “That’s amazing!”

“Dad’s gonna be Bob!” Missy giggles, admiring her new costume.

“Oh Goober!” Frankie sings, laughing wickedly as he enters the living room, “We got you something!”

Goober wags her tail, listening to Frankie talk, flopping onto her side, showing him her belly.

“Missy wants to be Beetlejuice and then said I should be Bob,” Frankie says, kneeling to scratch Goober’s belly, continuing to talk to her like no one else is in the room, “And then guess what we found, Goob!”

Frankie looks to Missy who pulls out a Lydia dog costume.

“Poor Goober!” You groan, “You’re seriously going to put her in that?”

“Duh,” Frankie snarks, “That’s the whole point of buying it! Speaking of which, you need to think of a costume too!”

“I’ll go as a pregnant lady,” you huff, sticking your tongue out at him, rubbing your hand along the prominent bump of your belly.

“No!” Nora wails, falling to her knees, gripping her costume in both hands, shaking it, “You can’t just go as yourself!”

“Yeah!” Missy agrees, eyes widening with an enthusiastic nod, “You gotta dress up for Halloween!”

“I know!” Nora shouts, scooting towards you on her knees to the couch, “Frankie we should go back to the store and get Mom some of those fake zombie bite things and she could go as a zombie like me!”

“A pregnant zombie!” You laugh as Frankie stiffens beside Goober, “I think I’ve seen some of those costumes online.”

“Please Mom,” Nora begs, clasping her hands together and poking her lower lip out.

“Fine,” you smile, poking her nose, “Just for you, kid.”

—

“What do we wanna watch?” Missy asks, trading Nora the remote for the popcorn.

“What about this?” Nora asks, stopping her scrolling on the tv to some zombie movie.

“What’s up with you and zombies now?” Frankie huffs, laying his arm around behind you on the couch.

“What’s up with you and zombies?” You ask, smirking at his hesitance.

“Nothing.” Frankie quickly protests, shrugging, “I just think they’re dumb.”

“Dumb?!” Nora shrieks, whipping around to glare at him, “You’re dumb!”

“Nora!” You scold, “That’s not nice.”

“Yeah,” Missy scowls at Nora, “My dad’s not dumb.”

Things between Nora and Frankie have been less tense and they’re more civil now but they still have their moments. Nora’s sass and Frankie’s stubbornness like to buttheads every once in a while.

“Sorry,” Nora mutters, gently handing the remote to Frankie, “Here. You pick.”

“Thanks.” Frankie mumbles, taking the remote and scrolling through the selection of movies, “Any suggestions?”

“Maybe we should watch something scary.” Missy comments shyly, “It is close to Halloween.”

Frankie lets out a breath, “Okay.” He scrolls back to the zombie movie that Nora had found. “Do you guys really want to watch this?” He asks, clicking on the title to read the description.

“It’d help me and Nora know how to be zombies,” you nudge him with a small laugh. Nora nods her head looking at Frankie with those big round eyes of hers.

“You’re not gonna get scared?” Frankie asks, tapping against Missy’s shoulder with the remote.

“Nah,” Missy shrugs, “Zombies aren’t real.”

“Alright,” Frankie sighs, pressing play on the movie.

As the movie plays out on the screen, you can’t help but feel Frankie tense up every time a zombie is shown. His leg bounced as the growls and groans of the zombies intensified.

“You okay, babe?” You whisper in his ear, rubbing your hand on his thigh.

“Yeah,” he grunts with a nod of his head, leg stilling instantly, squirming as he watches a zombie bite someone, “Peachy.”

When one of the main characters of the film gets bit, Nora lets out a little cheer.

“That guy was mean!” She explains, when Missy gives her a funny look, “He deserved it,” she adds with a shrug of her shoulders.

—

Frankie jumps awake, breathing heavily. He glances over at you lying peacefully asleep, taking a deep breath. It was just a dream, he thinks, rubbing his palms against his eyes trying to rid himself of the images of you and the girls being torn apart by zombies.

He’s been on several tours fighting alongside his friends in wars he didn’t want any part in, seeing first hand what the government is capable of. His friends think he’s crazy for thinking the possibility of a zombie apocalypse happening is real.

He fucking hates zombies. Unpredictable, terrifying bastards. It’s the worst kind of horror Frankie could imagine. The helplessness on what to do, keeping the girls safe, keeping you safe, the list goes on.

The red numbers on the clock read 12:30am when Frankie glances over. The beating of his heart was not settling anytime soon. Half asleep despite what his heart decides to do he decides to get up and go get some water, making his way to the kitchen, he hears noises. Ticks of the clock on the wall, the breeze outside, Goober snoring from her dog bed, and a weird scratching.

Frankie grabs a cup from the cupboard, filling it with water before leaning against the sink as he takes a drink of the cool liquid. His heart rate starts to settle as he focuses on his breathing and drinking more water.

“Fraaaankie,” he hears a soft growl coming from the dark corner.

“What the fuck?” Frankie murmurs, squinting his eyes to see what’s there, the moon casting shadows in through the window of the kitchen, a lone figure is standing in the corner. His heart rate speeds up again, what the fuck is that. A snarl comes from the creature as it reaches its hand out.

Frankie lets out a high pitched scream, dropping the plastic cup in his hand to grab the towel laying next to the sink, throwing it at the creature. Goober starts barking and howling, hackles raised, with all the commotion in the kitchen. With the towel lying beside the creature on the floor, it starts to let out an ear piercing giggle.

“What the fuck?!” You boom, waddling into the kitchen, flipping on the light, “What the hell is going on?!”

Frankie stands next to the sink trying to catch his breath, while Nora continues to laugh, dressed fully in her zombie costume. Goober looks relieved as she registers it’s Nora, tail between her legs as she walks closer to her sniffing the fabric of the costume.

“Mom,” Nora laughs, “Did you hear his scream?!”

“Nora,” you yawn, trying to catch up on what possibly could have happened, “What did you do?”

“I thought it’d be funny.” She shrugs, taking a breath to try and calm herself, “Didn’t know he’d be such a baby about it.”

“I am not being a baby,” Frankie says, glaring at her. “I was half asleep and you scared the shit out of me, Nora.”

“What’s going on?” Missy mumbles, coming behind you, “I heard someone screaming.”

“I scared Frankie with my costume,” Nora giggles, twirling around so the ripped fabric of her costume flew in the air around her.

Missy starts to laugh, “That was you?!” She asks, looking toward Frankie. His ears and cheeks turning a bright red.

“Alright, everyone to bed,” you announce, ushering the girls out of the kitchen. Goober quickly followed behind.

“I cannot believe that happened,” Frankie admitted with a shake of his head, bending to grab the cup off the floor and swiping the towel over to soak up the water he spilled.

“It’s okay, baby.” You smiled, gently rubbing your hand between his shoulder blades, “Everyone’s scared of something. Yours just happens to be zombies.”

Frankie stood rolling his eyes, “Yeah, fake things that aren’t real.”

“Mmm,” you hum, making a face, grabbing arms to loop around your waist, “I don’t trust it.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, giving you a cautious look.

“You don’t think something like that could happen?!” You ask, flailing your arms.

“You think it could?” Frankie asks under his breath, squeezing your waist.

“Duh,” you laugh, “Anything could happen!”

Frankie smiled, leaning in to pepper kisses along your face as you let out soft giggles, he knew you were the one for him.

Tagging some people who I know like the series if you don't wanna be tagged just let me know!

@jay-zzle @soft-persephone @casa-boiardi @pastelpinkflowerlife @amyispxnk @desuidesu @yxtkiwiyxt @pinkypromisepascal @merz-8

#fic: parents to lovers #bitchesuntitled #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales fanfic #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you

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juunobox · 1 year ago

Text

──★ ˙ ̟ "PERFECT TIMING!"

you're nikolai's intimate friend (nikolai gogol x gn! reader) and he wants to 'free' you

summary : you're nikolai's friend and he wants to give you a taste of freedom (which of course means, he wants to kill you) ur like fyodor to him in this fic, kinda warnings : implied mental disorders, graphic depictions of violence, suicidal ideation, assisted suicide. you have a complicated relationship w him please do not take this seriously, fr i wrote this for coping purposes lol and sorry if it's kinda OOC this is the first ever nikolai x reader i wrote... dont beat my ass and english isnt my native i suck at grammar

Your days has always been mundane. You woke up and work on your laptop all day, then go back to sleep. However, there was a moment when your days became a bit more colorful, thanks to Nikolai's presence. He's an eccentric man who dressed like a clown and spoke theatrically. How did you meet someone like him in the first place? That's a story for another day.

With the time you both had, usually in the evening, he had developed a habit of visiting your place. By that hour, you'd be done with your day job, and you'd have the time to focus all your attention on him. It started as something casual, but as time went by, the two of you realized just how much you understood each other, at least to some extent.

His philosophy about freedom. The belief that being human itself is akin to being in a prison, it speaks to you. And the moment you expressed to him that you too shared the same belief, something changed between you two.

“Because you’re my…

Dear, intimate friend.”

He was fun to spend time with, so much so that it made you forget that he's a terrorist, a member of DOA. He brought colors to your uneventful, colorless life, and you didn't understand why.

“I guess you're sane in an insane way, Kolya.”

The clown laughed at the way you worded it. “Hilarious way to put it, [y/n]! You’d make for a talented comedian. You shouldn’t let this talent of yours go to waste! Don’t you think so?”

You sighed at his remark. “I’m way too anxious to do that. I can't stand in front of the stage and speak in theatrics like you do.” You eyed him playfully, and he giggled at that.

“Is that so? My dear friend can't handle the stage? How adorable, you’re intimidated by your own kind!” He scooted closer and cupped your chin in his hand. Your cheeks warmed up a bit at his touch, and you attempted to hide it. “You talk as if you're not a human yourself,” you said in return.

Nikolai’s grin grew even wider at your comment. “But I am one, I am a perfectly sane human being.” He tilted your head slightly to the side as he leaned even closer, his hot breath caressing your cheek. You swallowed nervously and darted your gaze away, unable to bring yourself to meet the silver haired clown's mismatched eyes.

And then he kissed you. It was a tender, loving kiss. Nikolai attempted to deepen the kiss, but you managed to push him away. He didn't try to force himself on you; however, he simply stared down at you with a smile. A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Did you just kiss me? What was that even for?”

“Because… I’m looking for an answer.”

“What?”

“I’m looking for an answer.”

You didn't quite understand what he meant at that moment.

This wouldn’t end well, you knew it. Yet, you couldn't resist him.

The relationship between you two was something that words couldn't quite explain. You two weren’t exactly lovers, but you weren’t exactly friends, either. An undefined one, dancing between the lines of friendship and romance. But did you want it to end? Of course not. You never questioned it, despite the uncertainty gnawing at you.

You had always been good at hiding your emotions after all, or at least, that's what you think. Good at fooling others into believing that you were okay when you were not, because you felt far too shameful to express them freely. You beat yourself up inside your head. You couldn't feel things normally, you either feel nothing or everything at once. It's too much. Nauseating. You hated those feelings. But one day, at the worst possible moment, the clown appeared before you. As you were grappling with your breakdown, you found yourself pouring out your thoughts and feelings to him. Nikolai was present with his vacant facet, silently listening to every word.

"I just want to be free. I hate feeling things. I hate this. I hate everything. I want everything to stop!" Your voice was laced with desperation, and you continued, "If I had a gun, I probably would've done it already. I'm so tired of all of this. My mind is telling me to stop, but I can't do it! I keep doing it, I can't stop myself. I wish my body would just give up. All the things I've done to my body, I've tried inflicting all sorts of damage to it, yet somehow, the heart still tries to beat, and so I remain alive."

In the midst of your distraught state, Nikolai's face held sympathy for a moment. He approached you and pulled you into a tight embrace. He didn't say anything, he kept silent— only his grip gradually tightening as if he wanted to crush your pain away.

—

Just like any other evening, you were in your room with Nikolai. He had brought you something new - a small variety of Ukrainian sweets. He said he wanted you to taste a piece of his homeland. It was unusual because Nikolai had never brought you food before despite his frequent visits, but he seemed eager, so you decided to show your appreciation by giving it a try.

In mere minutes, your stomach began to twist and turn, forcing you to curl up in pain at the edge of the bed. “Aren’t you going to help me?" you cried out, struggling to make sense of the situation.

"...."

"Oh, wait." "You're not going to help me because you intended to do this, right?” You managed to say as you writhed in agony.

Nikolai seemed momentarily disconnected from reality but soon snapped out of it and burst into laughter. “Oh, dove! Does it hurt? Yes, you’re a smart one, aren’t you? I did slipped a liiittle bit something into this dessert,” he placed his own food aside and peered over you. “But I didn’t use enough to kill you, what do you think!” He exclaimed loudly in his usual antics. You always thought you understood him, but there were moments when you couldn’t quite wrap your head around his thinking. This was one of those moments.

“After all we've been through, you’re trying to kill me now?”

For a moment, the silver-haired man appeared taken aback. “Why do you ask? That's precisely why I want to kill you. To prove my freedom. Don't you yearn for the same?”

"You wish to be liberated from your emotions, don't you?"

It didn’t take long for you to grasp the meaning of that. You both shared the same understanding, after all. That emotions made you feel imprisoned, but you never thought Nikolai would express it this way. Before you could respond, he continued.

“Because you’re my... intimate friend… it pains me to witness your struggle to break free, just as I am.” He mumbled, his eyes empty and distant. “You’re my dove. My dearest. My angel.” By each words spoken, his voice turned softer, and he sounded genuine for once.

After a trail of endearment terms rolled off his tongue, you spoke. “Perfect timing,” you whispered, managing a grin despite the aching pain in your stomach.

“Then, why don’t we find freedom together, Kolya?”

—

"Nikolai,” you whispered, caressing his cheek. You knew this would be the last time you'd see him. “How do you feel right now? You look happy. If you were to look in the mirror, your grin is so wide I didn't even know someone could smile like that.

“Hahahahahaha! I am indeed feeling ECSTATIC!” He pulled colorful balls out of his coat, along with a couple of knives, and began juggling them in his hands. “Now, it's time for a quiz! Which weapon will I use to end your life? I have knives, guns, bombs, oh, a wide variety of choices! This is going to be super thrilling! So exciting that words couldn’t do justice!” You could only manage a faint chuckle at this. “All of those weapons, because you like torturing people to death. Right?”

Nikolai took a couple of steps closer to you, continuing to speak in his theatrics. “Ding dong! You are—” He reached for a small knife and aimed it at your throat. “WRONG! You're wrong! Thought you answered that right, didn't you?! Gotcha!” He giggled to himself, his eyes not leaving your figure as his other hand reached into his overcoat, pulling out another knife.

“Because you are my dear friend, [y/n], I will grant you the honor of receiving special treatment. I'll make it quick for you because I want you to be free as quickly as possible!”

You had agreed to Nikolai taking your life.

You saw it as a two-way street, a mutual exchange. He could attain the sense of freedom he so desperately sought, and you could be liberated from your thoughts, emotions, and feelings.

Your miserable existence.

“Ready to take off, my dear?” Nikolai questioned, his grin stretching from ear to ear. He was smiling, but it appeared more like a manic one, instead of genuine happiness. It made you wonder what sort of expression you were wearing. A whirlwind of emotions are surging within you.

You are going to die. In Nikolai’s hands.

Slowly, you nodded. “I am.” Nikolai's grin widened even further, it appeared almost unsettling. Before you could utter another word, Nikolai had already plunged two knives deep into your chest. Your eyes widened, and you collapsed to the ground. Nikolai swiftly straddled you, and he didn't cease his stabbing. “Scream! Shout! Let me hear your cry of freedom, granted by the great Gogol himself! Hahahaha!” Laughter consumed him as he continued to relentlessly stab your neck and chest.

The pain was unbearable, but you couldn’t quite scream properly. Everything happened so quickly. Only disjointed sounds escaped your lips, drowned out by Nikolai's increasingly intense laughter as he continued to stab you.

"Freedom! Oh, this is what I've been searching for! I feel nothing!" He yelled hysterically. His mismatched eyes locked onto yours, your vision starts to blur, yet you could still see Nikolai wearing the same grin and glaring eyes. "My dear friend! Tell me! You feel free as well, just as much as I do right now, correct? Don't let my effort in killing you be in vain! You are free! Free from that prison you've been in! Say yes! Say yes!" He continued his rapid speech, almost matching the rhythm of the stabs.

Feeling your body growing cold, you could only muster a faint smile in response, sensing your blood seeping from your chest and neck. It felt oddly calming. The pain had lessened. Your body turned colder and colder, but the blood oozing from your wounds felt warm.

With the last bit of your strength, you managed to touch his cheek. You weren't sure if it was a hallucination or not, but Nikolai appeared to flinch in surprise when your hand made contact with his skin. Your body temperature was plummeting rapidly.

“...Kolya..” you managed to croak out, before closing your eyes and falling limp.

The floor was now painted red. The silver-haired clown’s once monochrome attire had almost turned crimson; stained with your own blood. There was a moment of silence, so profound that Nikolai could hear his own breathing. But then his breathing quickened, and his smile broadened once more.

“Hahaha!” He laughed out loud, “Oh! My dear friend is finally free now!” He picked up his knife again and lunged over your lifeless body. You were no longer breathing, but Nikolai continued to stab you. “The freedom we've desperately sought! Liberated from this thing called brainwashing!” The clown's eyes remained wide with trembling irises, an impression of madness. Unlike before, his voice now bore a subtle crack, as his gestures also became unsteady.

The same expression remained on his face, but tears started streaming down his cheeks. Nikolai seemed unaware of his own tears. “My dear friend! Tell me that I've achieved this freedom! You can confirm it because you understand me, right? You're the only one who understands me, after all!” His tone grew almost frantic, and his voice continued to break with each word. He pulled the knives from your chest and threw them aside, squeezing your cold, lifeless hand tighter in his warm ones.

“Because you’re… my dear friend… and you’re the only one who understands me…”

#vent writing #nikolai gogol x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #nikolai x you #cw violence #nikolai bsd x reader #nikolai gogol bsd #nikolai bsd

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 3 months ago

Note

Can I request a ghostface duo! Bam and Dunn??? They’re chasing after their final girl!reader but they’ve actually grown fond of her throughout the killings so they just keep her as a third. Thanks!!

Murder and Deception

Folowing a rash of murders in Westchester, Y/N learns a chilling truth about the man she loves and gets looped into something she couldn’t begin to comprehend

Ryan Dunn X Fem!Reader, Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, angst)

3.4 Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, graphic content, violence, murder, serial killers, make outs, implied sexual content, vouyerism, knives, public sex

An: Thank you so much for the request! Truth be told, I e never actually seen the Scream movies outside of little clips here and there, so I had to have a friend of mine (who’s very passionate about these films) explain the premise to me! Some of my stories I visualize as a film before I write them, so much so I could probably direct them if given the chance. This was one of those stories ;) anyways, thank you for the request, and please keep sending more!

When two people wind up dead in a small town, it’s a given that people are going to talk, especially given the ongoing police investigation. It seemed that this was the only thing on anybody’s tongues, but the fact that your boyfriend and his burnout friends could talk about this while they ate is what baffled you. “I mean-“ Ryan, who sat snuggled up next to you in the booth, kept his voice low so as not to be heard over the chatter and clinking silverware of the diner, “how do you even gut a person? Like- who does that?”

Bam took a bite of his burger and shrugged, “S’easy.” Swallowing, he explained while vaguely gesturing, “Cut ‘em dick t’neck. Can’t be that hard.” He wiped a bit of ketchup off the corner of his mouth, and even Dico, who was the de facto provocateur of you four, looked shocked at the way he was casually talking about disemboweling a person like you’d tell someone how to change a tire. Putting down your fork, not that you had much of an appetite for your disco fries at this point, you stared at that glint in his eye you’ve seen kids get when they try to rile up their older siblings. “Y’know, there's a little something called tact, Bam.” But that malevolent grin on his face only seemed to grow as he rebutted, clearly trying to get a reaction, “Hey! Dunn asked. Everybody’s thinkin’ about it. Only difference is I got the guts to talk about it.” Thats Bam for you- all about shock…

That night, you were supposed to go out with Ryan, but you mutually decided to take a rain check given the obvious. You settled for a phone call- one of those lovey dovey, ‘you hang up.’ ‘no, you hang up!’ coupley things that go on long into the night. However, as soon as you hung up your landline, it rang again. Confused, since your boyfriend just told you he was going to bed, you picked it up only to be greeted by a voice you didn’t recognize. “You’re alone...”

“Who’s this?” Ignoring you, the person on the other end of the line chuckled, “In scary movies, that kinda stuff’s bad news. You’re just askin’ for it at that point…” Safe to say, you didn’t think very much of it, and assuming this was a prank by one of Ryan’s dumb little buddies, you rolled your eyes as you laid back in bed, staring up at the shapes the window made on your ceiling as the light filtered in, “Ha ha. Very funny, Dico.”

“So you think Dico would watch you through your bedroom window?” At first you were mildly annoyed, but you were starting to get a little freaked out. Not wanting to admit this, of course, you tried to keep your voice level as you explained, “Seriously- whoever you are, I don’t have time for this tonight. I’m meeting my boyfriend for coffee tomorrow, and I-“ Standing up, you went to lock your door as that anxious, sick feeling in your stomach tightened.

The voice, growing progressively more and more menacing, cut you off with biting sarcasm, “Really? You’re gonna go lock your door? Standing there, in your bra and underwear…” The playful, flirty tone made your skin crawl as whoever was talking to you continued, “Oh yeah…look at you. You’re scared now, aren’t you?” Nerve worn down beyond desire to resist, you were no longer in the mood to call bluffs. “Listen, I don’t know what you want, but this isn’t funny!” The only noise in the otherwise silent room was the sound of the line going dead, leaving you in a cold sweat as your pulse pounded in your ears.

It was like a weight was lifted off your shoulders when you saw Ry. The first thing you did when you sat down with him at that cozy little booth in the coffee shop was debrief him on that odd call. His grip tightened around the cardboard takeaway cup, replying stiffly, “If anyone did it, It’d be Bam...” Realizing the implications of his words, Ryan quickly corrected himself, “Called you- I mean.” You were relieved at a plausible explanation for what happened, deciding not to question your boyfriend’s strange behavior. And you took him at his word, because you trusted hun. Ryan gave you this inexplicable sense of safety no matter what was going on around you.

Sighing in relief at the plausible explanation, you took a sip of your coffee to soothe your frazzled nerves, “Yeah, you’re probably right….” Shaking your head, you sighed as you tried to shift the topic, “ I am exhausted…didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

While comforted, you couldn’t help yourself from thinking about that phone call. Maybe Bam, or whoever it was, had something right about horror movie logic. “Hey, uh…do you think you could sleep over at my place tonight? Just for a night or two till he lets this shit up.” You realized how paranoid you must sound, so you added, “I know- it was a stupid prank call, but It’s- it’s kinda freakin’ me out a little.” Seemingly startled by the concern in your voice, Ryan’s expression softened before he replied, “Yeah, of course.” Intertwining his fingers with yours, you couldn’t help but feel a bit more relaxed at the feeling of his warm palm. There he goes, being all sweet…He assured you, “You’re my girl! I should be lookin’ out for you.”

After work, Ryan came over to your place with Chinese takeout, and for once you felt at ease- perfectly at ease. The scene was really cute: you, sitting there on your bed all snuggled up with Ry’s arm around your shoulders as you idly watched whatever was on cable. As the night wore on, you mentally were kicking yourself for letting Bam’s stupid prank get to you so much. However, you couldn’t exactly complain about having an excuse to spend the night with your boyfriend…

The TV’s warm glow cast soft shadows on the walls as Ryan traced little idle circles on your back, ni,blue fingers gradually slipping under the hem of your shirt. Unable to hold back a giggle at his bold touch, you nuzzled against his neck with a sigh, “And I thought you were here t’make sure I didn’t get murdered…” The fact that you could joke about it really was a testament to how much you dismissed the threat. Ryan smirked at the teasing tone in your voice- and maybe more than that- as he pulled you closer, murmuring into your ear“I can multitask…” Charmed, you leaned in to press sweet kisses to the side of his neck, your fingers threading into the blond curls at the back of his scalp, eliciting a low groan from his lips. Yeah, this would be a night well spent

Sure, the fucking helped calm your nerves, but before you could drift off to sleep you felt the urge to check every curtain and door just to be able to say you did. I mean, isn’t it kinda a thing for people to get murdered in horror movies right after they screw? Ryan sat up in bed with a goan, his pale, muscular shoulders glowing softly in the dim light, “Y/N, please…” his voice was heavy with concern as he stood up, walking over to where you were triple checking a lock. Standing behind you, he took your hands in his, “Nothin’s gonna happen…just relax for a little. Please?” That pleading tone in his voice made you realize how much seeing like you was hurting him. Must be breaking his heart… Sighing, you faced Ryan, “Yeah, it just…it rattled me, y’know?” Following him back to bed, you laid down on his chest and you felt your body physically relax. You took the opportunity to ask, “You think you can stay another night?” Knowing Ryan, you knew the answer was yes before you even opened your mouth. “Sure. I don’t give a shit either way…”

Ryan was supposed to be here by now. Well, he was supposed to be here at six, but presently it was nine, and neither him nor that idiot friend of his were answering their phones- that shows how desperate you were getting. All logic pointed to the lot of them getting shitfaced drunk or getting caught up doing something idiotic with the shopping carts in the ACME parking lot, but you couldn’t resist the nagging sense that the house was too quiet. Lunging for the remote, your first impulse was to flick to some random movie to drown out your thoughts. But as much as you wished it was that simple, the tv was silent against the eardrum bursting thrum of your own heartbeat.

You nearly leapt out of your skin when your phone rang. Every ounce of logic was ushered from your mind by panic, but you tried to reason this out. It was probably Ryan calling to let you know he got too swept up in video games with the guys or that he was out running errands and that he’d be over in ten. So, you picked it up- like an idiot.

“Home alone again?” You couldn’t resist the fear that gripped your heart when you heard the raspy voice that slithered through the receiver. Low and teasing, whoever was on the other end of the line seemed to be taking a distinct, sadistic pleasure in this. Trying to stay relaxed and rational, you muttered, “W-what the hell do you want?”

“How’s the movie?” For a moment, your attention was brought back to the horror flick on TV: some gothy vampire movie from the ‘80s. The voice continued, “I’m a fan’a the whole vampire thing…Watchin’ someone get sucked dry? That’s hot.” Desperately, you tried to brush it off as some shitty prank and play the badass chick card one last time, but the words escaped you. For a moment- a long, hard moment, the line was completely silent, the air surrounding you feeling far too dense.

From somewhere a few doors away, you heard a thud. “Hey, you know what’d take your mind off all this?” With a chuckle, the voice was drenched in mirth as he proposed, “Let’s play a game. C’mon…” Heart pounding against your ribs, you got to your feet and panickedly checked every door and window in your room as you spoke through gritted teeth, “You are sick! You’re- you’re fucking sick, whoever you are…” Another bang, this time much closer than you would like, made your knees so weak that you nearly hit the floor. Shuddering, you started to look around for things you could use as an improvised weapon. “What would you do if I was in your house?”

Grabbing a chair, you jammed it under the door handle and took a good few steps back to stay out of striking distance as he continued, “Maybe you’d use that lamp on your desk? Or go for the closet…yeah, you seem like that kinda girl.” He spoke with fanaticism, the way a guy would suggest having public sex with his girlfriend. The door was shaking now, threatening to give way.

Rattling violently on its hinges, the door splintered into a thousand little pieces as a dark arm reached in and shoved the chair away. With a shriek, you scrambled backward and your legs caught on the foot of your bed, sending you careening backward onto your mattress. You were running on prey animal instincts, heart jackhammering in your chest and mind far from rational. But you still had that lamp. Mind working surprisingly quickly, you swung it as hard as you could and it connected with that stupid Halloween mask, sending shards of glass and cheap plastic spraying out flock of pigeons style. Staggering for a moment, he lunged to grab for your hips but you took advantage of his distraction, slipping away in the nick of time before tumbling to your bedroom floor. Adrenaline coursing through your veins, you fiddled with the lock on a window you so diligently locked just a moment before, and you could’ve sworn that you could feel him breathing down your neck when you finally got the thing open. Narrowly avoiding his grasp, you landed on the roof of the garage before tumbling down and dashing off barefoot into the pitch black of Pennsylvanian suburbia.

After calling the cops from a pay phone, you spent the whole evening at the police station giving your testimony, but since they didn’t have any leads, all you were left with was another sleepless night. This was really starting to take a toll on you. In fact, you were so exhausted that, when you saw Ryan at Dico’s place after he invited you over for some pizza and Atari, the first thing you commented on wasn't him ditching you. Shooting him a nod, you sat down next to him and asked, “What’s with the eye?” Trying to look self assured, he bounced the question back with a hollow grin, “Got into a fight. What about you?” Ry was referring to your dark circles, which were nothing in comparison to the proud shiner he was sporting on the left side of his face. However, his answer did confirm your suspicions as to what he’d gotten up to…

With Bam and Dico off in the kitchen, you thought this was a good opportunity to bring it up. “Where were you, man?” Mumbling, your fingers felt like they were made of lead. Sitting next to you, Ryan shrugged as he mashed buttons, fixating his eyes on little beeping aliens, “Out with Bam. Why?” That idiot friend of his had apparently heard part of your conversation as he walked in with, plopping down next to you with a paper plate of pizza, “We’re at Rex’s-“ “Duffers.” Ry cut him off. And the worst part of this was probably the fact that you questioned none of it; The idea that they got into a fight after a night out drinking wasn’t unbelievable, but somehow you saw nothing weird about the fact they couldn’t get their story straight.

Feeling that maybe you were beginning to catch on, they had to come up with a plan, but Since they couldn’t talk about this sorta thing at Dico’s place, they were having this discussion in front of the slushie machine at Wawa; really a fitting location for talking about murder. Rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted around as if he’d already been caught, Ryan confessed, “Listen- I feel like such a dick right now…” This was all Bam’s idea in the first place, and now that his girl got involved, he wasn't sure how much longer he could tag along.

“Little late for that...” Grinning, Bam filled up his big cup with no less than five different flavors of slurpee. Ryan grabbed a bag of Doritos and a monster energy as he followed on his heels, lecturing him, “Don’t be a pussy. Y/N is fine, you’re fine- we're all fine! Just stick t’the plan and don’t fuck it up.” Ironic that he was calling Ry a pussy given that he was too scared to do anything besides make those calls. Dunn turned arround to stand nose to nose with him, “Y’sound like some…cult leader or some shit when you talk like that.” Pausing to take a deep slurp of his Frankenstein concoction, Bam continued with a malevolent little glint in his eye, “it’s a game! We’re in control.”

Pushing open the door, Bam left him with some sage advice. “Chicks love the hero thing. Y’should lean into it more.”

Back in highschool, a mutual friend of yours and the guys kinda had the hots for you. The only problem was you very clearly had a boyfriend. It was pretty clear that this devastated him, but you didn’t pay much attention to it, however Bam still had the guy’s number, so it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary if he dropped him a line and let it slip that you were newly single. Maybe you had your eye on him. Later that night, he called him up and concocted this elaborate lie in order for this set-up to work the way he intended. “She lost her phone, like- a week ago.” Bam had to hide the fanaticism in his voice as he slammed that last nail in his coffin, “She’s home right now. Y’should go over there!” In all fairness you were probably sleeping with a butcher’s knife under your pillow. Prolonged sleep deprivation and intense paranoia are a deadly combination that little good can come from.

Whoever was behind those killings from last week didn’t seem content with stopping at only two. In fact, in the time since, a small soccer team’s worth of people had been murdered under progressively grisly circumstances, so could you really be blamed for trying to defend yourself? That night, the timid knocking at your door courtesy of that poor, good natured guy sounded more like pounding to your stress-addled mind. Nerves frayed to bits, you stood with your back against the wall, eyes bugging out as you clutched your weapon like a lifeline- yes, a knife. Heart threatening to leap out of your chest, you found yourself unable to hold your nerve a second longer and you lunged for the door handle. Before the consequences of your actions could sink in, it was already done.

Your boyfriend was the first person you called, “Baby- baby, what happened? What’s goin on?” Ryan had to try his hardest pretending he didn’t have a hand in this as you practically toppled into his arms, sobbing so hard you struggled to get your words out. You were so distraught that you barely noticed Bam decided to tag along. Sputtering, your shoulders trembled as you explained frantically, “He just- I thought he was gonna…I swear I was…!“ Smoothing your hair, Ryan held you close to the warmth of his chest as he soothed your shaking, guilt heavy in his stomach. He knew about Bam’s plan, and he did nothing to stop him. Wiping away your running mascara, he cradled your face in his hands as he reassured you, “Nobody else knows about this, okay Y/N? Only we do- nothin’ to worry about.” Bam had been silently watching this and enjoying how pretty you look when you’re scared. He spoke up, self confident as always, “C’mon, we’re here! Chill out a little. We'll take care’a this…” Now reassured, you felt more capable or managing this. Sniffling, you wiped your eyes and reached for the house phone.

Bam grabbed your wrist, his voice suddenly more serious than you’d ever heard out of him, “Wait, wait- we're not callin’ the police.” You stared at him with confusion before he explained, “You just killed a man. We’ve got the weapon. If you tell the cops-“ he sputtered for a moment before repeating like it was obvious, “You killed a man, Y/N! You’re fucked.”

Cut to an hour later, and you were disposing of a fucking body in the woods. Well, they were- you were waiting back in the car. Trembling, you sat back against the leather with your hands between your knees as you tried to stave off the dark suspicion that was nagging at you. Ryan told you not to worry; he would take care of this, but you couldn’t help yourself from panicking a little as you watched- this was like a horrible dream you couldn’t wake up from.

As Ryan opened the driver’s side door, you couldn’t help yourself from asking, “Why’re you so calm about this?” Turning around, the glowing, red tip of your boyfriend’s cigarette was the only light in the bitch black car as he asked a question of his own, all traces or sugarcoating washed away from his words, “Y’think this is the first time?” Before you could say what you were thinking- what anyone would think when they found out their boyfriend was a murderer, you remembered why you were there in the car with them in the first place; you killed somebody. Sensing your apprehension, Bam added, making the tension in the car even thicker, “Listen- you’re either with us or against us. And if you’re against us…”

#jackass #bam margera #ryan dunn #brandon dicamillo #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #jackass x reader #bam margera x reader #ryan dunn x reader

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mrdairyy · 2 months ago

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Howdy travelers! Making a pinned post because yeh

You can call me Mr.dairyy, Mr.D, MD, Dairyy or just D ||Pronouns: idc but I prefer she/they most|| Minor :>||Aroace I think?|| joined: 9/4/2023 ||

I’m an artist that draws my ocs, fan art of fandoms, art of aus from others or my own, and sometimes I draw others ocs or take requests (but it’s rare)

Sun and moon show aus I’ve made:

|| Iced out || wonderland show || harp strings (wip) || small but mighty (wip) || I’ll add more if I think of any :3

Fandoms I’m in:

Undertale, tsbs, deltarune, fnaf, the owl house, tadc, gravity falls, rain world, arcane, squid games, and DCA

My ocs [refs wip]:

Rue

Entity/doc

Tater-tot

Quill

Tink

Tank

Grayson/Dr. Felix

Cyrus

C.C

This account is all fun and games so don’t take it too seriously

I like answering asks about me, my ocs, or my aus, and don’t worry, I probably won’t bite lol

Sometimes I might tag things wrong or forget to put a warning on something triggering, if this happens please tell me! I can’t read your mind (sad I know)

Tags:

Dairyy rambles: just me talking

Lactose draws: my art

Secrets uncovered: oc lore, stuff like that

Ooo asks!!!: answered asks

There’s some things I won’t tolerate:

Homophobia

Racism

Transphobia

Any drama happening in the tsams fandom

Harassment

Graphic/ explicit things

NSFW

Political things

Anything that you know for a fact isn’t ok

#pinned post #Dairyy Rambles #lactose draws #secrets uncovered #Ooo asks!!!#aroace #artists on tumblr

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neptuniadoesstuff · 8 months ago

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Introduction Thing Ig... So.. Welcome to the Basement?

(Update due to imbox spam: While I do support Palestine, I DO NOT HAVE ANY MONEY TO SEND! So please do not send me any requests to donate, I don't have a job nor have money (as im just a random kid. All I can say is "I hope you can have a better life than now". So plz dont fill my inbox with donate requests as its only used for art requests & OC based asks/QnA Trash)

(Plz click the read more to see all of the text)

Btw I'm a MINOR, someone who is UNDER 18! SO PLAESE DNI IF YOU ARE A 18+ ONLY OR MATURE ACC!

(Yeh this is a remake of my introduction post, but we don't talk about that-)

So yeh, welcome to this.. place... This is where I store all of my art & whatever I can think of. So, you will expect:

Art (Usually Fandom-based or OC based)

Art WiPs (That of ATs, DTs, & Character Refs)

Meems (Except I'm not funny so don't expect many)

& Stoopid Garbage like my rambles & crud.

(Although reminder that my art can & will be 13+ as it will contain things like g0r3, Cannibalism, & even death, I'm just uncomfy with anyone under 13 actually interacting with me due to my past experience back on Screb... But if you are kind enough maybe I'll let you talk to me, I'm pretty friendly but I do have some problems irl so keep in mind..)

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My Bio (Full):

|| Name: Bubs | Aliases: N (If you know me irl), Neptunia | Gender: Female, She/Her | Age: 16 (I'm a minor, so leave me alone if yur an 18+ only/mature acc) | Height: Blob-Sized, May be a bit chonky lol | Pride: AroAce | Other: Big fan of MO: Astray & an avid enjoyer of Blobs ||

Birthday: December 26.

Zodiac: Capricorn. (I don't take zodiacs seriously though tbh, I just think they're a bit neat to say.)

IQ Level: Moron.

If you know who I am, I'm BuggoBlobs from Scratch (Sadly due to the whole banning fiasco bcs of someone mass reporting me for calling them out on their bs.... Lets say things didnt end well for me..)

So yeh erm... that's why I'm here....? (Well not rlly, I have known about Tumblr for a long time, except I only made an acc this year due to a frend of mine (REDACTED) making an acc on here, so I thought "Let's do the same thing" & here we are)

(Funfact: I'm quite anti-social irl & only have like... 2 irl frends but I only talk to one-)

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My Mascots/Sonas ig-:

Neppy ◆/♠︎/♣︎ (Main Mascot) (You will see her... A LOT, so be ready) (Her Ref & TH Page)

Bubs (Design coming soon) ◆ (This is my "persona"/irlsona btw)

JJ Sam Green ♣︎/♠︎ (Mascot) (His Ref & TH Page) (TW: Can contain sensitive info) (You can also see his full ref here)

(Symbol Meanings: ♥︎ = Comfort. ♣︎ = Favorite. ◆ = Sona. ♠︎ = Just think they're neat lookin.)

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Content warnings!

G0r3/Bl00d

Cannibalism

Death

Sometimes horrifying imagery

Semi-graphic descs of charcters.

OC with Scars

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My Socials ig:

Screb (I have 2 accs on there.but one got murked... At least i have a back up ig? Welp. The one that got murked is a archive now so yeah...), Tumblr (Your Here lol), ToyHouse (Where all of my OCs whom I created/put on there exist)

Or you can use my Carrd here. I don't mind tbh. (+ Having a Carrd is much easier to link than all of my Socials.)

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Fandoms (I'm in ig):

MO: Astray (Fave Game)

Hollow Knight

WoF

Pokemon

TES ig? (Idk I barely ever played it-)

(Reminder: Just bcs I sometimes make content about smtn I'm not a part of doesn't mean I'm actually a part of that thing's Fandom, like example, some of my OCs in Fandoms I used to be in/aren't apart of.)

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Some of my original trash (In no actual order bcs I'M NOT NEAT & TIDY!):

Mortal's Curse/Terminal Archina/PoL (Same Universe as AoE/A2P)

Egolandia

Endoterr's Vail (Project Cata nka Oblivion Monroe &

RoTG (Realm of the Gods)

BloopTopia/LoA (Land of Ackezelle) (Aka World of Eeross)

Silver Valley

Soul Seekers

Noirvillah? (A part of a universe owned by my frend Ashe)

KR1T4.EXE

A Stargazer's Diary

MonoVista

And whatever else I have

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My TOS (You will see it a lot in my art-based posts)

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my blog's pinned post clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PLEASE CREDIT ME!

So yeh, if you my any see a PNS in my drawings, that means it says, "Plz No Steal". DO NOT SEAL MY ART!

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DNI If you do any of these:

Taking my art w/o permission (This includes Tracing, copying, recoloring, or just straight up saying it's your art. Bcs I take lots of time making art & you taking my art w/o permission hurts me) (It will not only matter if it was made for you & only you but plz frikin credit me if you post it)

Being weird to me or my characters/designs. (Just... don't... I'm AroAce (+ a Minor) & that makes me uncomfortable tbh... Look even if I do make a character with a certain body type/looks that's kinda "sus", does not allow you to make weird comments about them at all)

The average hate comments, harassment, bullying, & spamming/threats thing. We all know those 4, right? Just be a frikin decent person for crying out loud. (You can dislike me & my art all you want, idc tbh. Just don't go harassing me on multiple levels to the point IT WILL MAKE ME HAVE A MENTAL BREAKDOWN!) (Also, these 4 count for my frends here. Again, be a decent person. I'm watching you..) (Also, this rule includes nor respecting me, just plz respect everyone with kindness... Thanks.)

Pestering/threatening me to draw you smtn. (I work hard on my drawings + I have a life outside of here, so don't expect me to draw you smtn since I only draw for my frends & myself. If you really want art from me, pay in art, idc how bad the art is, art is art & I have no biases when it comes to it as everyone has their own style.)

LGBTQ-Phobes/Menaces to certain groups of ppl who did nothing wrong but exist. (This is a LGBTQ+ Safe place)

Creeps, Weirdos, & ppl who ship problematic ships. (Like don't be any of those plz... Especially the weirdos who like children or animals WAY TOO MUCH.)

(Edit) Making false accusations/hateful comments of my friends. Be a goddamn decent human being for the love of God or ill have to report you.

(Not strictly but I do get uncomfortable) following any adults only/18+ acc on here. Yeh I just don't really interact with anyone who is currently following a 18+ acc bcs it just.. weird..

Breaking any of these DNI Rules can get you blocked BY ME! So be careful...

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My Mutuals/Friends:

"Alt" (Im NOT putting out their user btw this is just my stupid nickname for them), @kuboyesuu (Abi), @viellohi (Vie), @spiasshdown (Splesh) & many more but idk I'm too lazy to put them here.

(4 of them are literally from Screb & only one I know IRL- It's a whole bag of worms lol-)

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Anyways my side blogs bcs I said so:

The Official Mortal's Curse Blog (Ask/RP OC Blog)

My Species Storage Blog (Lore QnA/Original Species Blog) (Originally a Ref Sheet storage Blog)

My MO: Astray AU Blog called Timeline-Breaker (Ask/RP/AU)

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So yeh... Thats its rlly for this post... Hope you enjoyed yur stay, & remember, always stay a goober! Even in the toughest times.

(Art is by me btw, Plz don't take. :( )

#neptuniadoesstuff #blog intro #introduction #Welcome lol #Bub's Basement #Bub's Writes Stuff

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sissytobitch10seconds · 22 days ago

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I Am Punishment

Fandom: EPIC! The Musical Summary: Calypso was dreadfully afraid that she was going to end up alone again, but now that her new companion has arrived on her island she is beginning to wish for the crushing solitude that she had before. Warnings: Graphic depictions of rape/sexual assault, mentions of suicidal ideation, abuse, and psychological warfare Word Count: 5,949 Ship(s): Calypso/Antinuous

Archive link!

A/N: As I said in the tags, I don't think that Calypso slept with Odysseus given the way that Jorge has treated the other assault implications in EPIC! It's almost an insult to him to imply that he wouldn't take assault from a woman to a man as seriously as assault from a man to a woman, so I'm using that and the actual content of the songs as context to say that Calypso had a very childish idea of what 'husband and wife' meant. That being said, Antinuous has been confirmed to be a massive fucking creep very willing to hurt women and is going to do so here. Please don't argue with me about my takes, just use the back button and leave me alone. This is my own fic and I'm allowed to write what I want without the systematic racism-based headcanons of the rest of the fandom. If you are still here and interested in reading: welcome! This is a very serious fic based off my own experiences, so please protect your own mental health and leave if you need to. Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

The days since Odysseus had left dragged on and on.

Things had changed so much for her since the gods had sent him to her. She was able to talk to someone that could talk back to her, even if most of that talk had been him telling her to let him be or grieving the loss of her crew. She had been patient with him during the beginning couple of years since she knew what it was like to lose someone very important, she had lost her father and most of her friends during the Titan War, after all. It had begun to wear on her a little bit when they reached the fourth year with him still refusing to believe that the island would not let either of them leave.

She had watched him make rafts and boats, spending hours agonizing about how to wet the wood in such a way that he could get it to curve and make a bow and a stern without it taking on any rot. She had helped him a couple of times, only to be accused of being the one to break it when he had woken up in the morning to find it broken into pieces or setting out to sea without him in it.

Calypso was fully aware of the fact that Odysseus hated her for something that she couldn’t change. She had told him when he had first woken up that her island remained unknown and that no one could come or leave from it, but he hadn’t listened to her. Apparently the only words that he had heard was when she had told him that they were going to be able to sleep beside each other.

Odysseus had later told her what he thought that she had been implying and it had made her face so hot that she was sure it would turn into the next sun. Apparently, she had referred to him in terms that only a husband and wife said to each other. She hadn’t known that as it was what the sun said to the sky when they were passing over each other, in the words that whispered through the wind and the moving of clouds. He had assumed, because of that, that her words had meant they were going to be sexually intimate with each other.

She hadn’t meant that in the slightest, of course. She was just happy to have another body that wouldn’t wriggle away and scamper into the night when bored. She loved the rabbits and squirrels and wolves and wild cats that lived on her island, but they weren’t very good for keeping her warm when she was cuddled up in the cave that she had turned into her home. Calypso had been trying to tell him that they could keep each other warm, but he had taken it as her trying to push him to be unfaithful with his wife.

Their entire relationship had been based off of something akin to that. She would tell him something about the island that she didn’t have the power to change or control, and he would decide that it was her doing to hurt him. She knew that he had been through a lot when it came to the gods, but it still hurt her deeply.

Calypso’s solution to that had been to dump all of her love and care into him. She made sure that his baths were warm and full of rose petals so that he felt luxurious and kingly as he should. She would brush his hair and trim his beard so that he looked like someone that would stand atop a palace in front of all his subjects. She made sure that he had good food to eat, learning how to cook the animals that he hunted and killed despite the way that it broke her to know that she was eating one of her few companions on Ogygia.

She got nothing back in return. Odysseus had harsh words for her and scared the ever living life out of her when he found his way up to the highest cliff on the island. She was able to bring him back down to the cave, which she had sacrificed for him so that he could have some privacy after he expressed a desire for it.

Not long after that, she had gotten one of the first visits that she had ever had on her island. The God Hermes had come down to tell her that Odysseus was being permitted off the island so that he could return home to his kingdom and be with the people that needed him most. He had at least had a good word for her, a single sentence of praise about how well she had maintained him while he was there.

She had come down the next morning when he had woken and told him that his boat would finally resist the curse on her island to break. She let all her feelings out after that and informed him how much it had hurt her that he spurned her affections so much. He told her that he loved her, but not in the way that he had wanted her to.

Calypso had spent much of the rest of that day weeping while treasuring the bits of himself that he had left behind, like the way that he kept track of the days that passed while he remained with her and the traps that he had put up on the wall of her cave. She knew that the intimacy that she desired was supposedly reserved for married couples, but she wasn’t sure what marriage would actually mean for a goddess such as her. She wished for someone to hold her when it was cold, for someone to kiss the top of her head and pet her hair when she had a nightmare, and for someone to care for him as she had for them.

She had already resigned herself to the idea that it would never come when she saw another person washed up on her isle.

She thought that perhaps her luck was changing for the first time since she had been cursed to live on the island all on her own. She rushed down the beach so that she could see who it was and when she rolled him over, she was exposed to another half drowned sailor.

He had dark hair that was twisted into tight locs on her head, something that she had done herself when she was a younger woman. His skin was a shade or two darker than her own, and his face was angular in a way that was very unlike Odysseus or Hermes. He had a slash on the bottom part of his chin that led all the way up to his nose, but it had the texture of a scar instead of a wound that may open up again. His clothing was a chiton, but it was a darker color that what Odysseus had been wearing when he arrived. It was drenched in blood on one side, which was coming from a now sand-packed wound on his side.

Calypso carefully placed his arm around her neck and then stood so that she could carry him back towards her cave. She busied herself by getting clean spring water so that she could get the sand and muck out of the cut, then stitching it back together with one of the finest needles and string that she was able to find. She bandaged it like Odyssues had shown her how when she had badly hurt herself while learning how to butcher rabbits.

She hummed to herself as she worked around the cave, getting all the pieces of Odysseus put away so that the new companion she had acquired would be able to figure everything out on his own. Her last had seemed to enjoy that aspect of Ogygia quite a lot, and she wouldn't want to make this new man upset with her as she had Odysseus.

She noticed that the man began to wake up after the second day that he had been on her island. She finished getting his serving of broth ready and then walked over to him, sitting down beside him on the bed that she hadn’t slept on in years. “Good morning, sir,” she said chipperly.

“Where am I?” the man asked. He pushed himself up with a small grunt and then looked around him, confused.

“You’re on my island! This place is called Ogygia, it is hidden from all that set out to come here other than the gods themselves. No one can come or go, which means that we will be totally alone. I apologize if this leaves a wife or a child behind, I know that can be upsetting to mortals such as yourself,” she said. She was trying to cover more ground than she had before.

“I don’t have a wife. I was a suitor but the bitch would never accept any of us. Gods know that I was better than half of those fucks and that water soaked begger that showed up and tried to kill me at the end of it all. I waited twenty years for that tramp to open up her legs to me and she was too much of a prude to even let me have a good time,” the man scoffed.

“I’m sorry that she didn’t let you all play and have fun,” Calypso said, frowning. She knew what it was like to be stopped from doing what they wanted to do, but he was being so grouchy about it. She wasn’t sure that she was going to like this man any more than she had liked Odysseus in the beginning. She had loved him because he was a person that could talk to him, but his personality had left a lot to be desired.

“I made you something to eat,” she then remembered the warm bowl of broth in her hands. She passed it over to him and fidgeted on the bed.

He had noticed her movements and looked her up and down with a judgemental expression that made her way to shrink into herself. It felt like when the gods had looked at her while trying to figure out what to do with her. She had only been a couple dozen years old at that point, barely more than a child in the terms of their immortal lives. Calypso reminded herself that this was her island, even if it was also her prison, and he couldn’t make her feel small the way that they had.

“Spit whatever you have rattling around in that empty head out, wench,” he growled. He tossed his head back as he downed the broth that she had made him, some of it dribbling down out of the corners of his mouth and onto his chiton. She had made him a new one in the days that he had been sleeping, but he was already staining it anew.

“Would you tell me your name?” she asked hopefully.

“Antinous,” he replied shortly. “What are you?”

“I am the goddess Calypso! Ruler of the island of Ogygia,” she grinned. She rose from the bed and spun around in a circle as she played with some of her magic. It danced along the walls and caused beautiful, tropical flowers to bloom around the crevices of the cave so that even more color painted the walls and floor.

Antinous looked her over in a way that made her stomach flip nervously. She wasn’t sure if she liked this man or not, but she knew that she had to behave herself in a certain way or the gods would take him away and he would hate her again. It hurt so badly to be hated by someone that she loved so entirely and wholly.

“I suppose that you’re not bad. You don’t look as beautiful as Queen Penelope of Ithaca did, but a goddess is better than a simple queen,” the man said. He placed the empty bowl down next to him on the bed, not caring that the few remaining drips of broth were soaking into the material of the blankets that she had worked so hard to weave.

She took a step back towards the exit as he continued to advance on her. She had seen the way that Odysseus walked towards the prey that he had captured in some of the traps or the ones that he had cornered in between a grove of trees. The way that Antinous was advancing on her felt very much like that, and it made her so uncomfortable.

“What are you doing?” she asked. She didn’t want to be cowed down into being nothing again. If the gods were going to give her the gift of companionship then she was going to work with it instead of trying to let it wash over her like the waves.

“I’m taking what’s owed to me. That fucker stole it from me right when I was about to get it back in Ithaca, but I know that I can take you. You’re just a slip of a thing, can’t even fight back against me,” Antinous chuckled darkly.

He reached one of his hands out and then wrapped it around his wrist. He had been right about her being dainty compared to him, one of his hands wrapped entirely around her wrist and the force that he was using to hold her steady was grinding the bones together painfully. “Let me go!” Calypso said.

“Nah, I don’t think so. Didn’t you say that we were going to be each other’s everything? Come back to bed with me,” he said as he yanked her backwards towards the bed.

She knew that she had wanted that, she wanted to sleep beside someone and feel their warmth against her body as she had with her mother when she was still permitted to be near her. This felt different somehow, and even after she began to comply she could feel the panic seeping through her very veins. She followed Antinous to the bed so that she was sitting on the edge of it once more, then laying once he tugged her wrist closer to the opposite side of his body.

“There we go, little thing,” he cooed at her. He leaned over so that he was sideways against her, but then he kept moving. He flung one of his legs over the top of her so that her hips were pinned down entirely.

“What are you doing? This is not what I wanted,” Calypso whispered. She wiggled underneath him as she tried to get away, to the other side of the bed so that she could sleep beside him as she had wanted.

“I already told you, you stupid bitch. I’m taking what’s mine,” Antinous snarled. He leaned down and began to press open mouth kisses to the dark flesh of her breastbone and neck. When he reached her cleavage, the kisses turned into bites as he worked to mar her flesh.

She wondered if Odysseus had felt this way when she had referred to him as her own. She had simply meant it in the terms of the fact that he was her mortal, the way that all gods had chosen mortals that they cared for and worked to help further the agenda of. The way that Antinous was using those words made her feel as though she wasn’t even a person, as if he believed that she was beneath him despite her being a goddess in her own right.

“Stop squirming,” the man on top of her growled. He reached up to the top of her chiton and then pulled it hard enough to pop the attachments on the top that kept it on her shoulders. He tugged the fabric down so that her bare body was revealed to him. She had been in civilization for long enough to know that was unacceptable, that a body should only be shown to someone that was truly loved and trusted. She didn’t trust Antinous nor did she love him.

“Stop!” she shouted, but he didn’t listen to her.

He sat up on the bed so that he was towering above her, like a figure that he had risen from the depths of Tartarus to eat her alive. She watched in horror as he undid the clasps on the chiton that she had worked so hard to make for him and then let it fall down around him, revealing his body to her. “I don’t think that you get to tell me what to do here. You may have some magical wispy powers, but you’re not better than a nymph,” he snarled into her ear.

She had more power than that, but it felt like the fear that was consuming her prevented her from being able to access it the way that she would need to so that she could defend herself. She had only ever done that when she was fighting against the Gods in the Titan war, she was so out of practice that she wasn’t sure if she would be able to do it even if she wasn’t so afraid all the thoughts had gone from her mind.

“I command you to stop!” she said, her voice wavering as if she was somehow unsure of what she wanted to be happening.

“Look at that, nothing happened. Seems like this place really is the paradise that the gods spoke of when they were dragging me here. They sounded sarcastic, but if I have a god bitch to take whenever I want then it can’t be too bad,” Antinous sneered into her ear. He used his large hands to flip her over so that her ass was in the air and her knees were supporting her.

“Please, please stop,” she begged. She didn’t like being brought down this far nor did she wanted any bit of what was happening to her. He had made her completely helpless under his hands and all she could do was try to go along to his whims without him hurting her further.

She felt one of his hands come down into her braids and grab hold of them so that her head was twisted back. She could feel every breath struggling to get through the tight space that her larynx had forced the path to her lungs to become. Every swallow was painful and soon the drool began to ooze down her face despite her attempts to keep it in her mouth. Her stomach roiled with disgust for what this man was doing to her.

Antinous didn’t stop, despite the whimpers that were emitting from her and the fact that she kept trying to squirm her body away from him. She heard the sound of spitting behind her and then felt something wet and warm on her vaginal opening. She knew then what he was going to do to her, Odysseus had told her about the kinds of things that a husband and wife did when they were in bed together. She didn’t want this to be the experience that she was having with a man that may be a husband to her, Odysseus had made it sound so romantic. This was anything but romantic.

He used his other hand to guide his cock into her cunt before he reached out and gathered both of her wrists so that he could pin them to the small of her back. She was unable to twist or move in the slightest as he began to pummel into her. She could feel the way that his cock was stretching her to the point that she felt like her walls were beginning to tear. She knew that he wouldn’t care if they did, he was delighting in the pain that this was bringing her.

He remind began to retreat back into itself like it did sometimes when she was having a particularly hard day on her island. The world around her became hazy and all she could hear was the sounds of the ocean outside of her cave, instead of the grunting and slapping of flesh coming from behind her.

Eventually, Antinous bottomed out inside of her and she felt something thick yet liquid enter into her. He collapsed down next to her without a single care in the world, dropping her onto the bed like she was nothing more than a toy. “I could certainly get used to this,” Antinous groaned as he folded his arms behind him and let his eyes droop shut.

Calypso waited until the rise and fall of his chest became deeper and more even. She was certain then that he was asleep and she would be able to escape without him noticing her.

She rose silently from the bed and picked up the ruined dress that she had woven for herself. She had spent hours making sure that everything was straight and prim and proper, she wanted to look like the other goddesses that she sometimes saw flying in the sun chariot as they went to Olympus. He had ruined it, ripping it all the way down the front and snagging one of the shoulder pins in the hem so that it was basically irreparably tattered.

The goddess walked out to where the fire from her cooking earlier was still crackling madly and then dropped the item down into it. She wouldn’t want to look at that dress anyway, because it was a representation of the fact that she had no power despite having the same kind of parentage as the Olympians. She had been cast aside to an island where all she could do was nurture the spirits and vegetation that lived there, she couldn’t even bring animals back to life.

She walked through the dense woods of Ogygia, knowing that Antinous would not be able to follow her if he woke up to discover that she was gone. She hoped that he would never wake up, she much preferred being alone to being used in that way. The endless silence was better than the grunting of a man she barely knew above her while she begged him to let her go. The countless days without another face to gaze upon her own was better than having to put her eyes on the face of that man ever again.

She found the pool that she had used for bathing as long as she could remember. It was fed by a river where she got her drinking water, so she knew that the waters were crisp and fresh. She felt as though she was sullying the sacredness of her spot as she stepped into the frigid, slightly lapping waves. The seed that Antinous had spilled inside of her before he had fallen asleep was dripping down her legs and spilling onto the rocky shores next to the pool.

Calypso traveled deeper and deeper into the water until her feet could no longer reach the bottom. She allowed her body to sink down to the bottom, where she wrapped her arms around her knees in an attempt to keep herself as small as she could possibly be. She had never before been so grateful that her island would not let her die, that no matter how long she let the bubbles escape from her mouth there would always be more oxygen to fill her lungs.

Along with the horror of what had just happened to her, there was anger. She was angry at the gods for dumping her on an island where she was the only one present. She was angry at them for having the first person she had spoken to in eons being a man that hated her for something that she could not control. She was angry at them for making Antinous ever disgrace her island with his presence. She had done nothing more than follow the words of her parents as they everyone did when they were as young as she was. She had been abandoned for being a child that was following the words of her elders. It wasn’t fair, it had never been fair, and she was growing tired of being treated that way when no other immortal being was.

She pushed herself out of the waters of her lake. She shivered when the cold air began to seep the water from her skin, but she barely felt it further than what her body instinctively wanted to do. Her feet carried her through the dense brush of the jungle that took over the majority of Ogygia’s lands, avoiding the prickly plants and sticks that had fallen from the most recent storm.

She walked around a den of foxes, away from the burrows of marmots and mice, past a bramble of sweet berries, and then finally to the rocky craig where she had lost spoken to Hermes. Calypso had never bothered to name anything on her island the way that the humans did, she had never seen the point of it when she was so sure that one day her sentence would get revoked and she would be permitted to leave her prison so that she could be somewhere else. That was evidently not going to happen, and she figured that she should at least come up with a name for the place where she got the only contact with other immortals.

She decided that she would name it Man’s Death, since that was what Odysseus was sure her island was going to be of him. It was the place that he had threatened to jump off of when the voices of his old friends and comrades had gotten too loud in his head. It was the place that she was going to make her own threats, she was sure of it.

“HERMES!”

Her own voice had never been that loud before. She had heard the howls of animals in heat, the screeching of wind through a cave so quickly that it blew out all of her hard work and left her shiver in the night. She had heard thunder bring down trees and earthquakes change the location of the island somewhere in the island. She was not a stranger to the loudness of the world, but she had always made sure that she was quiet enough to be ignored. If she kept her head down and only let her true self show to the people that she was permitted to see by the High King of the Gods, then perhaps he would take mercy on her.

It was clear her that was never going to happen. It had been a false promise that she had been given by some psychotic wind spirit, the ones that had brought her there, and it was a lie. She was through being lied to, not when it was going to have her power removed from her body and her soul violated in such a way.

She screamed the name over and over into the air. Her throat felt raw and her mouth was dry from the rain. She could smell the salt and tang of the sea around her while it continued to crack into the rocks below her. She poured her power into the words until she could almost taste them on her lips, until she could see the effect that they were having on the world around her.

The god appeared in front of her then, finally called after she had screamed for the majority of the night. She knew that she looked a sight, bare and naked under the soft silvery light of the moon. She hoped that the goddess of maidenhood would forgive her for losing something that she had never wanted to give up.

Hermes looked exactly as he had the last time that she had seen him, when he had come to tell her that she could no longer have Odysseus with her on her island. She had known then that what had happened to her was a punishment, not something to protect her. She was being shamed and hurt by being kept on Ogygia instead of provided with a paradise to live out the rest of her years. If they had truly cared for her then they would not have left her alone as a child.

“Can I help you, my dear?” Hermes asked. His heavy golden helmet sat over his eyes, pushing the brown curls of his hair out in every direction that they could. His sandals were laden with feathered wings that allowed him to flip and move in the air easier than any other god would be able to.

“Do not speak to me that way,” Calypso warned. “You brought him here, did you not?”

“I’m afraid that you’re going to have to be more specific than that,” Hermes replied. He flipped around so that he was on his stomach, with his caduceus clutched in one hand despite his fingers being threaded together so that he could rest his chin down on top of them.

“You brought that man to me! You all promised me that I would be happy here. I thought that perhaps someone was watching me and they had seen how lonely I was. Doesn’t your friend Apollo drag one of my only companions across the sky everyday? Do you not listen to Helios when he speaks?” she demanded.

“Darling, calm down. I’m sure that nothing has happened to warrant this kind of reaction from you,” Hermes soothed. He was speaking to her as if she was a child, but what had happened to her was something that no child should ever have to go through. If that was what the gods were permitting to happen to the children of the humans they had worked so hard to create, then she believed that the Titans should have stayed in power.

“He- Hermes, you don’t get to say that,” she shook her head. She felt one of her long braids slip over her shoulder, brushing across the others that were already resting along her collarbone. “You promised me that when you brought me here, you would keep my happy and content. You promised me a paradise as long as I never tried to leave or interfere with the world.”

“But you did try to escape, didn’t you?” Hermes asked. It felt like he was making fun of her, like he was talking down to someone that was lesser than him.

Fury ignited inside of her stomach. She knew that she was more powerful than him, linked far closer to the earth than he was. Zeus may have been able to create gods from mortal women and his own seed, but she was the daughter of the Titans and one of the beings that was called a god first. He didn’t get to talk to her like she was lesser simply because his own kind had deprived her of the knowledge that she would have needed to protect herself from that kind of attack.

Her hands at her sides balled into fists and the island began to move with her. The vines from the jungle began to snake through the dirt at her feet and reached out towards the god that was hovering above the ocean in front of her. She lurched her hand out so that they flew into the air and grabbed hold of him. She then balled her first back up and dragged her hand towards herself. Hermes was forced forward so that he was actually within Ogygia’s borders and she would have more control over him.

“You do not get to come to my home, to my prison, and tell me what I do and do not get to feel. You may get to dictate where I go and whom I see, but you do not get to tell me how I react to things. Do you understand me, little godling?” she asked. She could feel the power of the island rushing through her. The rage that she felt inside had awoken something that was meant to be sleeping, that the other gods had put to bed a long time ago. She was ancient and she was dangerous, and she was finished of pretending that she wasn't.

“Calypso,” Hermes grumbled. “You musn’t be naughty.”

“What do you think that you could do to me, godling? Lock me away on an island without any knowledge of how to care for myself? Let my stomach consume itself for a full two years until I discovered an edible plant that did not reject itself from my body within a few hours? Leave me to shiver through the long winter nights with no clothing as I grew? Or perhaps you would provide me with a friend only to rip him away from me because I am trapped here while he is the most spoiled mortal that has ever lived,” she asked. Her face was so close to his that she could feel the panting breaths that he was letting out, but she didn’t care.

Calypso could feel the vines around his arms growing tighter and tighter, to the point where she knew for certain that they were going to be hurting him. “I know. The perfect thing to punish me after removing the friend that I nursed back to health and helped thrive under the distress that the rest of you bestowed upon him, would be to give me a man who violated me. I could spend hours giving him new clothing and bringing him back to life when it would have been so much easier to just let him fester and die. Then he would wake up and hold me down, I would be unable to fight him because I never learned more magic than how to mend my clothing or pick up things a bit too heavy for me. He would hold me down and put his hands and his cock in places I did not want him to while I begged him to stop!”

“I’m sorry,” Hermes whispered. “Athena wanted him to have the same punishment that Odysseus did!”

“I NEVER RAPED HIM! Antinous was known to want to hurt mortal women, what made you think that he wouldn’t be able to hurt a goddess the same way? Why do you all treat me as though I am a punishment instead of a person? All I wanted was companionship, to be not alone anymore. You sent a man here with the intention of letting me be raped and abused,” horror set in when she realized that. She had always assumed the gods were just a bit misled, that was what her own father had thought, but she was beginning to think that they were the malicious and vindictive ones instead of the titans.

She took a step back as the vines slowly began to unwind from where they had almost entirely consumed Hermes. “I want him gone, before the week is over. If you do not remove him from what is supposed to be my paradise, then I will begin to lure all your heroes here and keep them with me for as long as I please. They will be the companionship that I longed for, I will be the punishment you so greatly desired. Because I will throw them from this very cliff, down into the waters deep within Tartarus where men like Antinous belong. Find another goddess to be your lamb to slaughter.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #ao3 #archive of our own #epic the musical #epic the musical calypso #epic the musical hermes #epic the musical fanfiction #epic the musical antinous #antinous x calypso #Calypso x antinous #tw rape #tw assault #tw abuse

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linklethehistorian · 3 months ago

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Linkle’s Fazbear Frights & Lore Insights #2: To Be Beautiful

[Read the general disclaimer and important notes for this series of articles here.]

[View the Masterlist of all completed articles here.]

Some To Be Beautiful specific notes:

I will be discussing the graphic novel version of this story to a limited degree, which as per ‘Frights Fiction’, would be a graphic novel in the in-universe canon, based on the book by the same title, just as it is in our world. If you don’t want spoilers, stop here.

I will also be discussing, to an even more limited degree, the Silver Eyes trilogy, but the things I will be talking about are major spoilers, so this is also your spoiler warning for that.

I will be briefly talking about one of the mini-games in the game version of Into the Pit which revolves around To Be Beautiful, and in general, discussions about the book version and my thoughts on it in my previous article are quite likely to come up during one particular part of my lore relevancy section, so if you want to completely avoid Into the Pit spoilers, maybe hold off on this one for now.

Apart from where I feel it relevant, I won’t be doing a deep-dive into the changes between the book and the graphic novel, since they are both fictional media within the FNAF universe, and thus the retcons and changes mostly have no value in the discussion of the lore or canon. If someone else wants to scream about how they got so much wrong because they feel the book was done dirty or something, I absolutely encourage you to go write your own article! But this isn’t about that.

My takes on William as a father, in regards to the games, may ruffle more than a few feathers of people who still insist on holding onto some of the old fanon stuff/do not believe in Frights Fiction. I will be briefly discussing why, but seriously if you don’t like it and won’t go into it with an open mind, please just don’t read it; I’m not really in the mental state to go through a thousand comments trying to convince me of a notion that I simply don’t personally feel has any logical evidence behind it.

Now with that out of the way, let’s get below the cut and get talking! This is your last spoiler warning for all forms of To Be Beautiful, so if you want to turn back, do so now.

Has everyone who wanted to leave yet left? Yeah? Good. Okay, let’s get going, then.

Overall Impressions

The Book:

I know that in my last post regarding Into the Pit, I said that some of the writing style choices made definitely weren’t for me, and that’s still true, but honestly, as I’m listening to this story a third time to make sure I haven’t missed anything I want to cover (and have read several other stories in between doing so), I have to admit I’ve gotten very used to the formatting by now, and it really isn’t as much of a pet peeve as it used to be — which is undoubtedly good, since I have a good many more volumes to go through in order to catch up to date in covering them all.

As for To Be Beautiful’s plot, as much as it pains me to say this, I honestly like this one a little bit better than Into The Pit, and I’m not even completely sure I can put into words why, except perhaps that, while I was very glad Into the Pit did have its surprisingly happy ending with both Oswald and his Dad’s survival, the original book version also felt very anticlimactic in terms of anything actually happening after the initial glimpse of the Yellow Thing’s murders, all the way up until the abrupt point where Oswald’s Dad was immediately pulled out of the pit as soon as Oswald arrived back at Jeff’s Pizza, and the Yellow Thing attacked and was hanged.

With To Be Beautiful, the slow buildup of suspense and horror, to me, is much more compelling and ultimately pays off much better when Sarah’s decisions have finally their tragic and irrevocable consequences. I think that if Into the Pit had had that same kind of buildup or at least a longer and more suspenseful struggle at the end before the payoff, I might have actually preferred that one more, as the backdrop of that one is much more up my usual alley, but it didn’t, and so To Be Beautiful has to rank higher on the list.

I do find it odd that, even with how strong the seemingly implied message is that you shouldn’t waste time trying to appeal to people who will only like you if you meet superficial criteria, Mason Blair is strangely given a complete pass for never noticing Sarah until she was hotter, as the story never gives any indication of him being shallow in any way after that initial bit of shallowness and presents him as a good and wonderful person through and through in all other scenes that we see him (unlike the Beautifuls), but I suppose maybe that isn’t a flaw in the writing so much as a realistic acknowledgement that sometimes people who are good overall can just make bad judgements and be a bit petty — I just wanted to mention it nonetheless.

That observation aside, the characters seem to suit the roles they are meant to fulfill well enough; they’re definitely far from my favorite characters in the FNAF series as a whole, but they’re serviceable enough, and I’m sure there are many people in the world who can empathize with Sarah’s struggles with loving or even liking her body.

The Graphic Novel:

Well, first of all, I will say right out the gate that between this and the book, I definitely by far prefer the original book; for as much credit as I tried to give this adaption of the story whilst reading it, I really couldn’t see more than a single upside to viewing this version of the story instead of the book, and that single upside — the ability to see a possible glimpse at what the characters looked like — did not in any way make up for all that was lost in translation enough to warrant viewing it as a viable alternative, or even all that much worth seeing as a supplemental piece to the book, since it contradicts it so much and lacks such an incredible amount of the punch that its source material had.

To name just a few of the changes I caught onto while reading it:

The characterization of Abby, Sarah’s best friend, is slightly different here, as while during the conversation of what Abby used to do to her Barbies when she and Sarah used to play with them felt slightly more like a testament to Abby’s unique fashion sense and tastes in the book, in the graphic novel, Sarah outright states that Abby tortured her Barbies instead of describing the unconventional ways she styled them that didn’t adhere to normal beauty standards. Maybe it’s just me, but that felt like a swing and a miss, when we consider the overall implied message of the story.

Several events were skipped, like Sarah’s ice cream date with Mason, completely re-ordered or just completely altered, like Eleanor waking up immediately by accident when Sarah first takes her home and looks at her, Sarah not tipping her hand that she knew who Mason Blair was when he introduced himself to her, or just being honest with the Beautifuls about what her Mom does and getting disapproving looks.

Perhaps the worst change of all, though, in my opinion, was the change at the very end of the story where, as Sarah is falling apart into a pile of junk, instead of just the narration of her regretful thought, she laments openly that “Abby was right”, and Eleanor turns to her and agrees, “Abby was right about a lot of things”; to me, this unanimous commentary happening between both characters is far too on-the-nose about the ultimate moral of the story, and that lack of subtlety in a story that is already quite clear enough about its message without needing to have both its main characters say it aloud is actually rather detrimental to its overall integrity and enjoyability.

A good story should not have to slap you in the face with its message completely verbatim in order to be able to get that message across; the story should not feel like it stops and makes every character on-screen break the fourth wall to stare you in the face and tell you directly and heavy-handedly what you are supposed to take away from it, and that is what this version of the ending feels like: an open bout of preaching — and, whether they agree with the message wholeheartedly or not, almost no one particularly likes being bluntly preached to by a piece of fiction.

And, on top of all of that, the fact of the matter is that the one upside this medium had wasn’t even really taken advantage of in the way that it should have been:

Despite all the muss and fuss about how ugly and obnoxious of a green Sarah’s hair was when she dyed it, it doesn’t even really look that way except for in the panel(s) at the hair salon — mostly looking a very pale and hardly noticeable slightly greenish yellow in the majority of panels after her escapade.

Sarah’s chest, for all her complaints of it being completely flat, doesn’t really come across so in the artwork of her before her transformation into being more shapely, and instead just makes it look like she wanted it bigger than it already was rather than wanting it just noticeable at all.

The colors and designs of many things, too, seem quite different than how they are described in the novel, with the most noticeable example being that the necklace Eleanor gives Sarah is now gold instead of silver, and that, for whatever strange reason, Eleanor’s eyes don’t seem to be green at all and rather mostly look a plain empty grey until the fifth day, instead of starting out as such as they did in the book.

All in all, although the artwork itself is certainly serviceable and cute enough, there are just a lot of strange choices I don’t really appreciate being made here, and losing Sarah’s inner monologue, when the book is practically written from her point of view (albeit in third person), is such a detriment in combination with all of these things that it really wasn’t worth the trade-off.

Lore Relevancy

Well, having long since read the entire book, I quite expect this to be the longest entry I have in this particular volume of Fazbear Frights, so let’s not waste any time mincing words and just jump straight into it, shall we?

The Lies and Half-truths

As always, before we can get into what the book is trying to say, we should start by trying to rule out what it definitely or at least almost certainly isn’t; now, unlike Into the Pit, which was so closely tied to the actual main game series’ canon that we could easily rule out what could or couldn’t be true, To Be Beautiful, unfortunately, does not have any overt one-to-one tie to any canon mainline game continuity events, so this process is naturally going to be a little bit harder and take a lot more guesswork, but still, I do feel that we can make at least a few fairly educated assessments.

Firstly, unlike with Into the Pit, the game version of which gives me pause to consider that Oswald and his Dad might to some extent actually be based on real people that exist within the FNAF universe, even if what happened to them was entirely or mostly made-up — what with the Freddy Mask implying Oswald’s Dad might be “Freddy Bully”, one of Michael’s childhood friends — I am fairly confident, at least at the time of writing this, that Sarah and everyone within her story do not actually exist beyond potentially being a metaphor and/or stand-in for someone else already well-established within the main games’ canon (more on this later).

My reasoning for this is mostly that, well, not only is it unlikely and way overcomplicating things to say that every single character in every Fazbear Frights story must have a separate counterpart in the real world of FNAF, even when they don’t seem to have anything particularly hinting at it, but also…I simply don’t believe that Eleanor truly exists, either, and I know that may be a hot take for some but, hey, there it is.

At the time of writing this — and granted, that could change at some point in the future, since I know she’s going to return several times — I believe that Eleanor is nothing more than a) a stand-in for Circus Baby/Scrap Baby/post-death Elizabeth in general, b) a convenient method by which to further explore the concept of the Power of Wills and Wishes™️ (there is a better name for this in the future, but this is just my placeholder name for it until we get to talking about Fetch), and c) the main antagonist this in-universe fictional series focuses on instead of William/Springtrap (+ variants).

Now, did the method by which Eleanor kills Sarah actually claim someone’s life somewhere in the mainline canon? Does her seeming “magic” actually exist in some form? …Well, sort of, yes; it’s a half-truth, really, with enough details changed to distance itself from the actual happenings while still being able to use some of the most horrific and mystifying parts about them — exactly as you’d expect from a company trying to discredit and make light of real-world events.

But, seeing as those very things tie so heavily into the things I want to discuss regarding what I think the book is trying to say, we’ll get to the nitty-gritty of that later in the next section.

For now, I think we’ve covered everything that can be covered here, so let’s move on.

The Truths and the Likely-Truths

So…from now on, though obviously this section will continue to be where I discuss all things that I think were borrowed in-universe from the real life events of the main canon and/or which could have some relevance there, I will be more properly splitting this up into two sub-sections: The things that I know are true — which are themes and topics that I feel, without doubt, are definitely and most obviously what the story was created to establish and/or bring up relating to the lore, from an out-of-universe perspective — and then the things that I think are true, which are what I personally believe the book could be trying to establish and probably believe with a fairly high level of confidence, but which may not be as obvious at a first glance and do have more leeway for other interpretations.

It should be noted, however — and this is probably something I will retroactively add to the “Disclaimer and Important Notes” page, as I feel it’s quite important to all of the books — that, as Scott has confirmed in a decently recent interview with Dawko that he just writes down the basic plot of his stories and all the important points he wants to cover and then lets the other author flesh it out more fully, we have no way of knowing outside of the main plot exactly what details were his ideas and which aren’t; therefore, there’s a good chance that a few or even multiple of the things I bring up are just massive coincidence and have no meaning whatsoever in reality. Nevertheless, I do think there’s value in discussing it, but that fact is also why I will often try to provide far more than just one detail to back up most of my more elaborate interpretations and ideas — because we can’t be sure that any one single tiny detail within the books has value, unless of course it’s something Scott has specifically said is important.

Now! With that in mind, let’s take a look at what we can glean from this tale.

The things I KNOW are True

So, approaching this from the angle that, according to Frights Fiction, every Fazbear Frights story must contain some measure of truth hidden within the lies — some event Fazbear Entertainment is attempting to discredit (or further discredit, if it’s something that’s come up before) and monetize — what do I believe are the things To Be Beautiful is definitely riffing off of?

Well, there are four things here I am absolutely sure of:

1: Eleanor is absolutely derived from and supposed to be the Fazbear Frights version of Circus Baby — but more specifically and very importantly, she is Circus Baby after killing and being possessed by Elizabeth.

How do I know this? Well, there are a number of indicators throughout the book which tell us this:

It is stated very clearly in the book that Eleanor has green eyes — the color we know to be Elizabeth’s eye color, which Baby absorbed after killing and being possessed by her, according to Sister Location — not Circus Baby’s original blue.

In general, appearance wise, Eleanor looks very much like the version of Baby we see in The Silver Eyes trilogy, and said Baby was also possessed by Elizabeth and had the same duality in thoughts and nature that Circus Baby did during the main events of Sister Location, rather than being just an AI.

Her name is Eleanor — a name that is not only strikingly more human than Circus Baby, but also begins with the same two letters as Elizabeth.

She is stated in the books to have “a young girl’s voice”; now, what precisely this means, I suppose, is up for interpretation, but usually, if you refer to someone as a “young girl”, it means they are a child. In other words, she sounds younger than she looks; she sounds like a child. If I had to guess, she most probably sounds like Elizabeth — like Ennard sounds in the secret ending on Night Five, after Baby’s AI has been removed and all that remains of Baby is Elizabeth. Now, we could say that she has Circus Baby’s voice, as that could also be considered one of a young girl, but I feel the intentional draw to the fact that her voice sounds like a young girl, when Eleanor is described to be more of a proper woman, has to be an intentional dissonance, and using it just to say “oh, she sounds like Circus Baby” seems a bit pointless and redundant when it is already so clear that she is a stand-in for Circus Baby and practically no one is going to try to dispute this. In my eyes, this was done to draw attention to the fact that she is more than just an A.I. She is, just like in The Silver Eyes, both a girl and an AI who wants to obtain a more perfect and human-like body to inhabit. Something real.

The reason why I feel that this distinction is important is several-fold, and we’ll get to some of the reasons later, but for now let’s focus on the most important one, which is:

2: The events that happen in To Be Beautiful because of Eleanor are largely (with only a few caveats) meant to mirror and appear drawn from Sister Location.

Feeling skeptical? Here’s some evidence to back it up:

Throughout a vast majority of the story, ever since their initial meeting, Eleanor is largely portrayed as a kind and caring individual who longs to be good and only wants to help Sarah and keep her safe; this is a point that is brought up many, many times throughout the book — sometimes from Sarah, and sometimes even from Eleanor, herself. (To give one choice line from the book among the many examples: “Somehow, Eleanor being there made Sarah feel safe, as if Eleanor were standing guard.”) This is also true in Sister Location, as Circus Baby takes the role of protector and guide for Michael throughout many nights, keeping him safe and ensuring that nothing can hurt him, to the point where Michael (in the true, regular ending) steadily grows to trust her nearly completely and put his life in her hands, as Sarah does the same with Eleanor.

However, just like in Sister Location for Michael regarding Circus Baby, there are brief moments here and there as time progresses where Sarah gets the slightest hint of something just being “off” about the situation, or even times when Eleanor does something outright creepy, like leaning over and staring at Sarah while she sleeps, but she gives an innocent explanation for it, and Sarah, while upset, still seems to shrug it off in the end and forgive, excusing it by some means and telling herself it’s nothing to worry about (AKA just like when Circus Baby kidnaps Michael after Funtime Foxy attacks him, and stuffs him inside a Springlock Suit, claiming she did it to save him, but at the same time demanding he be quiet until the workers leave the room and wait until morning to be rescued), shortly before she inevitably seals her own fate the next day.

Eleanor really only awakens at night (“mostly nocturnal”, as the book puts it) in most cases, putting an emphasis on Sarah’s visits with her always happening at these times, much like with the night segments in Sister Location being the time that Michael interacts with Baby, and it also being the usual time that the animatronics go into free-roaming mode, and seem to start actively “coming to life” in their supernatural way in the mainline games’ canon, in general.

Sarah and Eleanor ended up meeting when Sarah found her in an old scrap yard and took pity on her condition, deciding to save her and fix her up. Michael met Baby because he had gone to Circus Baby’s Entertainment and Rental specifically to find Elizabeth and fix her, saving and freeing her from the AI that allegedly controlled her and made her do bad things, and “putting her back together.”

Eleanor’s ‘helping’ of Sarah — or rather, slowly working towards taking her entire body and getting Sarah to willingly, though albeit unknowingly, help her do it — takes place over the course of four nights, with the fifth day being the time that the transformation is finally complete; this much probably doesn’t even need saying, but this is a direct parallel to the four nights of Baby helping Michael along the way and ensuring his body would be preserved until he finally came around again on the fifth, when Baby and her fellow animatronics’ preparations were finally complete.

Both Eleanor’s and Circus Baby’s ultimate goal in helping the person they’ve met and keeping them safe for a period of time was for the explicit purpose of stealing their body and identity to use as a disguise and escape where they were being kept, so they could freely roam the world and go where they pleased.

There is actually a lot of clear symbolism and parallels for Ennard inhabiting and at times even controlling Michael’s body post-scoop, especially during the scene where Sarah loses her necklace and begins to lose her seemingly soft and human outside appearance to transform into a literal mass of tangled parts that she was underneath, detailing how people around her slowly went from expressing joy or amusement to absolute horror and fear, describing her struggling to walk down the street to her house and considering what people must think seeing her, describing the odd feeling and sound when the necklace first fell off, the clanking and clunking inside her, the slow horrific realization of what had happened, how she struggled to move and her body no longer was under her control, and lastly, how, “She was falling apart. Collapsing into a hideous trash heap. She didn’t resemble a human of any kind.” (Quite similarly to how Michael was falling apart in spite of the remnant in his body trying to repair him and barely resembled a human by the time Ennard finally left him.)

A little detail, maybe, but as Sarah is searching for Eleanor, she eventually begins to lose control over her ability to speak well, and calls out to her as “Ena”…which is quite similar in sound to Ennard.

These are definitely much smaller things by comparison, but I also feel that both Sarah notably staring into the mirror a lot and the mention of her eating spaghetti dinner at one point in the story are also meant to be small little symbols and metaphors for Sister Location, as Michael notably is seen staring into his mirror at the end of Sister Location, and Sarah consuming spaghetti — whose noodles are like Ennard’s many long tangled wires he is comprised of, and whose traditionally red marinara sauce resembles blood — could be seen as a metaphor for Ennard entering into Michael through his stomach after he is scooped.

Not only that, but there are also a few things in the story that only make sense if you think about them from the perspective of it being a fictional story in-universe that is meant to be borrowing a lot of events from and using symbolism for Sister Location; for example, and perhaps most notably, an ‘issue’ which GiBi’s Horror Homestead brought up in his video analysis of To Be Beautiful: the fact that instead of having Eleanor directly wear Sarah’s old body parts, she instead transforms her appearance using some sort of technology (more on this in a moment), and Sarah winds up finding the body parts just uselessly lying in bags which fall onto the floor.

It may seem counterintuitive, at first, to have Eleanor not wear the body parts when Ennard quite literally wore Michael’s body as a skinsuit, but I actually feel that this was very intentional; having Eleanor not do this not only allowed for the body parts — arms, legs, noses, and torsos — to be splayed out on the floor in front of Sarah when the sickening realization hits her, reminiscent of all the body parts of the animatronics in the Scooping Room when Michael arrives there, but it also leaves room for the book to specifically mention her entrails and organs slopping out onto the floor as well — giving the image of what would have happened to Michael when the scooper finally got him.

We could also say that Eleanor singing was meant to be reminiscent of Ballora, though I’m not quite as certain of that much, just a thought I wanted to put forward as, otherwise, I admit, I’m unclear on the purpose of it existing — unless, of course, it has some sort of hypnotizing and/or calming effect that basically worked as the anesthetic before Sarah’s surgery, and we’re for some reason supposed to draw absurd parallels between the Puppet being soothed by the music box and this in order to come to that conclusion, but I highly doubt that for a multitude of reasons.

3: Sarah’s necklace and Eleanor’s matching button are, without doubt, meant to be another play on and reminder of illusion disc technology, making this the second time within this book that it’s brought up.

Now, why Sarah’s body fails when her necklace falls off, even though there is no such mechanic involved in illusion discs, is another matter entirely, and while yes, we could easily say that perhaps the necklace was also connected to her new body in some way and kept the parts “running” (acting like a key to an engine), I also honestly really don’t think that it matters one way or another — not if we believe in Frights Fiction, at least.

Occam’s Razor dictates that the simplest answer is usually the most correct one, and saying that things in the books don’t entirely follow or fit the logic of FNAF’s known main canon because they’re sensationalized fiction and that the shock and horror elements of the story (and the ability to use, alter, and discredit various real world events) are always going to come before any real world logic is definitely the simplest answer here.

Sure, we can come up with complex potential explanations like this on why something is the way it is in these stories when it doesn’t make sense, but why waste that time and effort when we know that they’re fictional to begin with, and doing so might lead to missing the actual in-universe reason why the in-universe creators of Fazbear Frights would want to include certain story elements?

4: And lastly, once again, we circle back to the (at least as much as I’ve read thus far) ever-ongoing theme of the Power of Wills and Wishes™️ — the constant and seemingly very emphasized implication that within the FNAF universe, the mind/spirit is a very powerful thing that can — to at least some degree — control, cause, and/or contribute to the shape of reality and what happens within it.

Now, as I believe I said earlier in this post, I do want to hold off on discussing this on a grander scale until I reach the article where I talk about Fetch, but I will say that this theme is even stronger and more front and center in To Be Beautiful than it was in Into the Pit, with this time not only Sarah longing to be the conventional standard of beautiful and then ultimately getting her wish, but also getting to do so through Eleanor, who explicitly talks about and promises wish-granting.

Again, just something to bear in mind for the future for now, but it absolutely needed mentioning.

—

So, we have a whole list of things that I invariably believe are key parts of the book from an in-universe perspective, but what out of all of this, if anything, do I think that, out-of-universe, was undeniably something Scott would have wanted to communicate with this book?

Well, maybe this is a bit of a boring answer, but to be honest with you, unlike with Into the Pit, where I would have at least said that I think getting the year of the MCI — 1985 — out there was definitely a goal in the book, and that the game version also added a most likely game-canon design for Henry and William and a heavily implied connection between Oswald’s Dad and Freddy Bully, I don’t think that there’s actually any one thing that To Be Beautiful exists specifically to fully, uniquely, and unquestionably establish — at least not that isn’t mentioned elsewhere in other stories to some degree as well.

Rather, I think that To Be Beautiful — both in terms of the things that I think are utterly undeniable, and the things in the next section that I just believe in very strongly and think are backed quite well by various evidence, but aren’t as easily confirmed — just exists to further expand and place further emphasis upon certain points that have already been, and will continue to be, brought up in other Fazbear Frights books.

And in the case of the things that I feel are utterly undeniable, those points that I think emphasis is being placed on are illusion disc technology, and the very intriguing concept that is genuine willpower within the FNAF universe.

“But why the illusion discs?” I can hear some of you asking even now, “I know you said the other thing comes up again, and you have a theory on that to share later, but what’s so important about these?”

Well, like I said in my Into the Pit article, I think that Scott wants to remind people that technology like this is a thing in the FNAF universes, and that we shouldn’t rule it out of existing in the main canon, too — and not just because of FNAF 4, either; we’ve actually seen something akin to illusion disc technology not just hinted at, but actually shown to us in the main universe already, within Ruin, when we’re not using the Vanny mask. There are many things that Cassie can see and feel right in front of her so realistically that she is utterly convinced she can’t pass through until she wears the mask to take the illusion away, or removes it by some other source, like finding and removing ‘anomalies’ on the camera in a certain order (AKA using a hidden passcode to deactivate the illusion).

I’m not sure just yet how important this technology is going to become, but I do wholeheartedly believe that even if you are still utterly intent on just believing that FNAF 4 was a bunch of nightmares and nothing more, illusion discs are nevertheless clearly an integral part of the series either way, and a relevant thing that is intentionally being discussed and going to continue to be important to understanding how certain things in the mainline FNAF universe work.

The things I FEEL are True

…Well, putting all of that absolute certainty and undeniable truth behind us, let’s now wade a bit deeper into the pool of analysis, well-backed theories, and plausible personal interpretations, and finally ask the burning question:

What do I think To Be Beautiful could be trying to say about the main lore and/or its characters, on a deeper level?

Well, to start with, one thing is for sure: it’s certainly carrying on this entire book’s clear but unstated secondary theme of its main characters feeling unlovable, unwanted, utterly invisible in any possible positive context, and like life is meaningless in its current state.

But…why is it like that? It’s not as if this is the running theme which is mentioned on the back of the volume itself — with said theme being identified as the fulfillment of wishes and their unfortunate consequences — and yet, it is still undeniably there.

Oswald feels like his Dad doesn’t really care about him, feels invisible to him, and is generally unhappy and bored with the way his monotonous, unpleasant life is in their dying town. Sarah, as we’ll further discuss soon, hates her own body and feels ugly, undesirable, and utterly invisible because of it, thinking that there’s no happiness to be found in life unless she fundamentally changes herself to be more in line with what’s considered conventionally pretty. And lastly, Millie — well, Millie’s plight we’ll get around to later, when we discuss Count the Ways, but trust me when I say that she is absolutely not the exception to this rule, and if anything, is actually even more extreme than the others in a lot of ways.

I know some people might say that it probably just lined up that way because the characters being unhappy was the necessary motivator for them to even have wishes in the first place, but that isn’t necessarily true; yes, they would need to be unhappy in some way with their current life, but that discontent didn’t have to stem from those precise, very specific troubles.

As a matter of fact, Oswald’s wish itself — the one that was “granted” to him through his discovery of the ballpit — had absolutely nothing in particular to do with his struggle of feeling ignored and not cared about; rather, it stemmed mostly just from the fact that he was feeling bored, and while yes, that boredom was technically because of these issues, he could very easily have just been bored without meeting any of the criteria here, so it seems very intentional that he was nevertheless written so that he did meet them — just as it does with every other main character in the book.

The fact that they all met every single one of these points has to mean something, it’s just a matter of what…and, honestly, if you’ve read my previous article, then I think you probably already know where I’m going with this.

But, for now, let’s reel it back in and just focus on Sarah’s story and who I think she and her struggles represent individually, since I think it’s easier to build a case up for something like this if you first take it one step at a time.

I’m sure you’re well aware where I stand on it, but I’ll go ahead and say it plainly anyway: I think that the character of Sarah is a stand-in for Michael, potentially in more ways than just as far as it relates to fulfilling his role in the story’s intentional bastardization of Sister Location.

Yes, I realize that there are probably plenty of people who are going to disagree with me on this, and I can understand why; at a cursory glance, Sarah and Michael don’t really seem very alike beyond what happened to them, and, if anything, I’m sure Elizabeth is probably the first canon character to come to mind when people see a story involving a girl and Circus Baby-like robot — especially one she looks up to and views as extraordinarily beautiful and perfect.

Combine that with the fact that a great many people borrow from the explicitly alternate universe Silver Eyes trilogy in their headcanons for how William was to her as a father (as well as other, equally dubious sources of information), and I’m sure that a fair number would be quite convinced that the Afton girl just meets every criteria on the board necessary to be an obvious parallel to Sarah and all of her troubles and concerns.

…She’s really not, though — not in hardly any sense of the word.

Let’s review the smaller bits of evidence that could be used to support this theory, and see how they hold up to scrutiny:

1: “Sarah is explicitly mentioned to have an older brother in college who is majoring in computer science and might know about [the concept of something like Eleanor] — a clear reference to Elizabeth having an older brother, Michael.” …Not…really. Sure, Sarah and Elizabeth both have older brothers, and with Sarah being 14 and college having the potential to accept students well into their 20s or even older, you could really stretch it to say that they have a similar age gap, but there’s honestly no proof of this whatsoever; talking in terms of statistics and probabilities, the gap they have is much more likely to be closer to what Elizabeth would’ve had with Garret than what she had with Michael.

As for the brother’s profession, this…actually has no connection to Michael whatsoever; yes, he’s familiar with the animatronics, but that’s because his father makes them for a living, and later on — long after Elizabeth’s death, I might add — he works around and perpetually deals with them as a night security guard at Freddy’s, too.

A lot of people have brothers. A lot of people in this franchise have people who in some way know something about technology or animatronics; this is not a smoking gun in any way, shape, or form. The details just don’t match up enough to make for a compelling piece of evidence. They don’t even mention a name.

2: “The story makes mention of frozen yogurt/ice cream a few times, and has Sarah eat it; this is meant to be a reference to Circus Baby, and the fact that a vanilla ice cream cone was what she used to lure Elizabeth to her death. That makes Sarah Elizabeth.” This is an even bigger reach than the mention of Sarah having a brother.

Yes, ice cream/frozen yogurt is mentioned in the book a few times, very passingly, but the purpose of its mention is less about the treat itself and more a means by which to discuss the fact that the Beautifuls seem to be able to eat whatever they want without gaining an ounce, and Sarah feels like she can’t (as well as potential symbolism for the fact that the Beautifuls are cold and self-indulgent). At no point is Sarah mentioning how much she loves ice cream — and she does talk at decent length about foods she is actually partial to, like pizza — or even picking a flavor that would have a hint of significance towards that tragic canon event, explicitly choosing swirl over the option for vanilla. At no point is the ice cream relevant to the plot, or in any form connected to her death at the end of the book, which it absolutely should be if this was truly meant to be a parallel between those events.

The graphic novel does feel like it puts a little bit more emphasis on the inclusion of the food, but this is ironically only because it does a poor job at explaining the reason it was brought up in its source material in the first place, and it entirely skips over Sarah having a date at an ice cream shop, too — oddly making it stand out even more, simply because it feels like an almost pointless inclusion, whereas in the book it makes perfect sense. It’s not a deliberate choice, it’s just another meaningless point of contention that says nothing other than that the graphic novel is really bad at conveying, even with the help of visuals, what the book easily conveys with just words alone.

3: “Sarah wants to have blonde hair; Elizabeth is (strawberry) blonde.” Yes, correct…but an emphasis should be placed on wants; Sarah is not blonde, nor does she become blonde even when all her wishes are otherwise granted. Sarah is a brunette. If Scott wanted to make Sarah a parallel to Elizabeth, having her share her hair color — or at least succeed in obtaining her hair color later, when her wishes were granted — would have been an easy way to help nudge readers in the direction of viewing her as a metaphor for Elizabeth despite a great scarcity of other solid evidence, but he deliberately chose instead to give her the brown hair and blue eyes of Elizabeth’s brother Michael, instead of the near instantly recognizable (strawberry) blonde and green eyes of the one some allege that he meant to portray.

Yes, in the To Be Beautiful-inspired mini-game of the Into the Pit video game adaption, Eleanor does make Sarah blonde, but this was clearly done because if it wasn’t, it would be unrecognizable in an 8-bit artstyle that Eleanor had changed her head much at all. I don’t particularly like the change exactly because I feel it muddies the waters in this way and has the potential for causing confusion, but I do understand why it was done, and it wasn’t because Scott wanted to retcon how Sarah looked; it was because it was the only simple way to convey the change in that part of her appearance — the same as changing her clothes was one of the easiest ways to convey a lot of the change in her body.

4: “Sarah likes soft pink, as evidenced by her nails and lipstick post-transformation; Elizabeth’s room in FNAF 4 was decorated all in pink.” …Well, for one thing, we don’t know for sure that that room belonged to Elizabeth; I certainly agree that it is Elizabeth’s room, I 100% believe that that is the intended interpretation, but it should be said that it’s not actually been confirmed, and there are people out there who choose to believe it’s Michael’s.

For reasons that should be obvious if you know my semi-controversial stance on FNAF 4, I pretty strongly disagree with the interpretation that that room is Michael’s, unless we’re assuming a change of houses (and decor tastes) happened by the time the night sections of FNAF 4 rolled around, but it is an interpretation that exists, and so it does bear mentioning.

Even if it is Elizabeth’s room, though — and again, I agree that it is — a girl liking pink isn’t really some groundbreaking thing, given that at this current point in time, that is the well-known stereotype (and many girls do, in fact, like pink, though it has little to do with gender). Saying, “this girl likes pink, so she must be this other girl who likes pink” is just….not really the best argument I’ve seen, if we’re being honest — especially when one of the main plot points of the story is that Sarah wants to adhere to the conventional beauty standards for her gender.

—

Well, even if we don’t have any of that, we at least still have the fact that Elizabeth clearly felt pretty much everything Sarah did about herself, right? In the Silver Eyes trilogy, Elizabeth was constantly neglected by her Dad in favor of his inventions — with that universe’s equivalent of Circus Baby being his main focus at the time when she was alive — longing to be loved and wanted like Baby was, to be perfect like Baby was, and even after dying and possessing Baby, neither she nor Baby were ever happy or content with themselves because he immediately moved on to just trying to use her to get something better, leaving her to feel like she wasn’t enough and grow jealous of the current object of his interest. That’s a perfect fit for the secondary theme I keep mentioning in this volume, and not a bad comparison to Sarah by any means, isn’t it?

I mean, yeah, it’s not too far off the mark, but…we’re not talking about The Silver Eyes’ Elizabeth here; there would be no point in Sarah being a parallel for an alternate universe version of Elizabeth, just to tell us what we already know about her — and despite fairly popular opinion, the Elizabeth from the main games’ canon, whom this would be about if it was about any Elizabeth, isn’t canonically like the one in the Silver Eyes. Neither is William, in regards to the way he largely treats his kids.

Look, I know that people can have their different interpretations of characters wherever the blanks aren’t filled in, and that’s perfectly fine, but there comes a point where you have to be able to look at canon and distinguish whether what you choose to believe about a character is a headcanon (something that doesn’t conflict with official canon, but also doesn’t necessarily have anything backing it), or an alternate universe interpretation (which is something that conflicts with canonical information in a way that renders it impossible to reconcile with official canon, no matter how cool or fun the idea may be).

It’s perfectly fine if some of you like the idea of a William Afton who is abusive and/or neglectful of all of his kids, and I 100% encourage you to play around with that in your creations, if that’s what makes you happy, but canonically, in terms of the mainline games, it needs to be recognized that as far as any 100% confirmable canon is concerned, that is not what William is; William did not neglect or abuse Elizabeth. William did not neglect or abuse Garret. There is nothing confirmable in main canon which suggests this, and everything that suggests otherwise.

If William did not care about Garret or Elizabeth, he would not be on a mission to “put them back together”, to the point of temporarily enlisting the only child whom he does canonically resent to help him do it.

If William did not care about Garret, he would not have sat at his child’s bedside and begged him to wake up. If William did not care about Elizabeth, he would not have tried to protect her from Baby. The entire point of mainline FNAF — and what makes it so compelling — is that William is shown to just have originally been a father who lost himself when he lost his child and went progressively more and more mad in his grief as his refusal to let go just kept causing him to lose more, until he had truly become a monster (in more than one sense of the word) practically beyond all recognition. It is the contrast between him, Henry, and Michael in how they deal with their grief that makes them all such good characters.

There is no point in confirmable canon in which Elizabeth says or implies that her father mistreated her prior to her death, and she even goes so far as to say in the end of Pizzeria Simulator that she believes that the entire pizzeria and Michael taking the job was all a gift for them (his children) from their father, which I can’t imagine her saying if she thought he didn’t care about her or them. By all accounts, she speaks very lovingly of him.

So no, as far as we know, the actual main canon Elizabeth does not fit the bill for the running secondary theme of this volume, which means that she does not really fit Sarah.

And as for the Silver Eyes’ interpretation of Elizabeth, I do feel it’s very important to just draw attention to one thing: in that alternate universe, William did not have multiple children; there was not a Garret or a Michael through whose fates we could mark his complex descent into madness through grief. This was intentional; there was no Garret in William’s life because in the Silver Eyes, if William had a Garret to mourn and to obsess over returning to life at all costs, he would not have been the antithesis to Henry, who instead took his role with his grief over his late daughter, Charlie. If William had had an Elizabeth he loved, he would not have been the contrast to the loving father that Henry was, and Elizabeth/Baby would not have had a reason to be jealous of Charlie, who had a father who loved her so dearly, and that was very clearly what they were going for.

As a result, the Silver Eyes Elizabeth was not just Elizabeth — she was a unique-to-that-universe creation who fulfilled a role that was a mix between her mainline canon counterpart and the mainline canon Michael — a little girl born of William Afton to die tragically to Baby, but also a child for William to neglect and then act cruel/cold/disdainful towards and make suffer in the name of his endeavors.

Trying to compare anyone in the Silver Eyes in a straightforward way to their main canon namesakes and expecting everything (or even most things) to transfer over is a fruitless endeavor, because no one there is entirely themselves; they’re what the narrative needs them to be in order to work the way it wants. That’s why it’s an alternate universe.

And finally, as we’ve discussed in the previous section, Elizabeth already has a main character counterpart in Eleanor, when it comes to To Be Beautiful; Eleanor very clearly represents Circus Baby after she’s been possessed by Elizabeth, and the overall plot is meant to mirror the events of Sister Location, so why would she need to also be represented by the character who happens to be the stand-in for Michael in every other instance?

It’s much more sensible to assume that Elizabeth is represented by the main character who parallels — well, Elizabeth, and that Michael is represented by the main character who is an obvious stand-in for him.

Besides, Michael has so much more in common with Sarah, to begin with. Think about it:

1: We already know that in terms of the main plot and how it relates to Sister Location, Sarah is meant to be filling Michael’s space, so it would hardly be a leap of logic to say that it would make the most sense if the person she is meant to parallel in other ways is also Michael, rather than some random other character whom we aren’t already thinking about.

2: Sarah and Michael both share the same mousy brown hair and blue eyes, making for a compelling argument to an intentional physical resemblance despite the difference in gender.

3: Furthermore, going by both the descriptions in the book and the artwork of the graphic novel, apart from characteristics brought on by age, Sarah bares a strong, almost uncanny likeness to her Mom — perfectly paralleling how Michael and his father, William, are canonically near identical in appearance, as well.

4: Given that there is a certain passage in the story, during the point where Sarah is having her first ‘interview’ with the Beautifuls, where it is explicitly stated, “Sarah tried not to bristle at the word ‘Dad’.”, I think it is safe to say that both she and Michael have issues and/or an overall adversary — or at least strained — relationship with their fathers, as well. We know from the mainline canon that Michael definitely does, for as much as there might have been a part of him that once wanted to win his love and attention when he was young.

5: Throughout the book, Sarah has a best friend named Abby, whom she has been so close to for most of her life that she basically grew up with her; Abby can occasionally be used as a nickname for ‘Elizabeth’, and in the alternate universe FNAF movie, Michael’s sister — who is very clearly meant to be Elizabeth — is called Abby, as well.

I don’t think that Abby is necessarily meant to be Elizabeth in the story, by any means, for reasons that should already be clear, but I do think that this is supposed to be yet another attempt at making parts of Sarah’s life mirror Michael’s in a way.

6: In one part of the tale, Sarah remarks how Eleanor is definitely “more alive than the stuffed Freddy Fazbear she’d had on her bed since she was six”, and again makes reference to said Freddy plush later on, when she picks it up to hug it, while telling Eleanor about her day.

If you happen to subscribe to the same belief that I do that the night sections of FNAF 4 take place in Michael’s bedroom, and that Michael is the one being terrorized by animatronics fitted with illusion discs by his father, then you’d know that Michael very notably has a stuffed Freddy Fazbear on his bed that this could be a reference to, as could the vague suggestion that Sarah’s stuffed Freddy hadn’t “come to life”, as appeared to happen in a sense to young Michael during this time.

7. Not exactly a smoking gun by any means, but Sarah and Abby both very openly love pizza in this, even if Sarah stopped eating it for quite a while out of a desire to avoid carbs, and Sarah even seems to be something of a connoisseur in the way she narrates the fact that the pizza at the cafeteria isn’t that bad for what it was, making an implication she’s had better, more fresh pizza.

Michael is also quite familiar with pizza, given that it’s his family’s business, as would his sister Elizabeth be, and in the Security Logbook, one of the perks of the job of working at Freddy’s that Michael mentions is “employees get free pizza”, implying that he does quite enjoy it — even enough that it could be considered a perk of an otherwise extremely dangerous and largely unpleasant, generally low-paying job.

8: Despite knowing full well how they can be, Sarah seems to nevertheless idolize and greatly want to be a part of The Beautifuls, who are ultimately just a glorified group of spoiled, wealthy bullies. This is, truthfully, not very different at all from the fact that Michael used to hang out with what appeared to be a group of bullies when he was a young teen, also around Sarah’s stated age.

9: A lot of Sarah’s specific complaints about herself and her life have a lot of potential subtle symbolism relating to Foxy, and the various versions of the character that have been made over the years — and I don’t think I have to explain how important Foxy symbolism generally is, when we’re talking about Michael.

Here’s just a few of the notable examples I’ve picked up on:

Sarah’s obsessions with the faults of her physical appearance are, and I quote, a “bulbous nose”, “prominent ears,” and the fact that “all her parts seem stuck onto her body at random” — over which she then compares herself to “Mrs. Mix-n-match”. Both the bulbous nose and prominent ears are some of the very defining features of Foxy in nearly every iteration, and, of course, although I know Mrs. Mix-n-Match was meant to be a parallel to our world’s Mrs. Potato Head, I can’t help but feel that the way Sarah describes herself and even the name of the toy itself strongly bring to mind the image of Mangle, too.

Although this game came out a year later, I also find it important to note that Roxy — an obviously related character and later a replacement for Foxy during Security Breach’s era — shares many of Sarah’s self-worth and self-image issues, which can often lead her to act like something of a bully to compensate. She also mentions that “nobody likes a loser”, and Sarah in this book plainly states that she doesn’t like to sit at the “loser table” and refuses to do so anymore. This may not be an intentional parallel on the book’s part, as Security Breach obviously did not much exist at that time (if at all) even in the development stage, but it is certainly possible that it could be the other way around, and Roxy could be designed the way she is exactly because of Sarah/Michael, and the fact that she is technically an iteration of Foxy. Just food for thought, I guess.

—

Above all, though, as I began to explore in my previous article, Michael and Sarah’s very biggest common-ground that they share is that secondary underlying theme that pervades this entire book and all three of its full stories — that same feeling of being unlovable, unwanted, invisible when it comes to anything good, and feeling that life in its current state is empty and meaningless.

And if there’s still any doubt of that — still some lingering question of if that could really be an accurate reading of Michael — let us put that to rest immediately, because out of all the iterations of Michael that exist thus far, there is no iteration in which the canon of that universe does not at least show it to be perfectly fitting to his personality — if not blatantly showing and stating it.

In the alternate universe FNAF movie, while avoiding as many spoilers as possible, Michael very clearly carries the weight of guilt over his past mistakes, feels unwanted and invisible to the person he cares about most — not to mention undeserving of being in that person’s life, and later, even shows signs of not particularly caring what happens to him anymore and that life isn’t worth living if he can’t change how it is.

In the mainline canon, through both the games and the Security Logbook, we can see that Michael is deeply regretful of what he did to Garret and, after doing all he could to help his sister who technically died because of that action, as well, states, himself, that the only thing left for him is to continue to live on long enough to right all the harm that he inadvertently caused through a domino effect resulting out of Garret’s death, and find and stop his father. It is very clear, especially through both the Security Logbook and heavily suggested in Pizzeria Simulator, that he feels life beyond this is meaningless and longs to die once it’s all over.

And for the final nail in the coffin of every clear and undeniable Michael interpretation strongly lending to all of the aforementioned themes applying to and being true of Michael in the mainline canon of the games, there is even also a story that comes later in Fazbear Frights — called Lonely Freddy — which is much more undeniably directly about Michael as a person, in which his very obvious stand-in has almost this exact mindset (though that will have to wait, as I don’t want to give out spoilers for future books and tales here).

…But what can we really learn about Michael from To Be Beautiful? Even if what I say here is true, then what could this tale possibly have to contribute that the rest of this volume and that aforementioned later book don’t? If anything, wouldn’t this just be echoing that same general theme and sentiment?

…Well, yes, it would — but that doesn’t mean that examining the specific ways that theme manifests in this story and Sarah’s unique attributes can’t contribute anything new to the conversation. I absolutely think it can.

So, without further ado — as I think this article is getting incredibly long already — here are some things that I personally find to be quite interesting and potentially very revealing when applied to Michael’s character, and why:

1: First of all, to start this off strong with my most robust dissection of Michael's character, there's the parallel between the bullies he used to hang out with as a teen and Sarah's Beautifuls.

In To Be Beautiful, Sarah very clearly has an issue with idolizing bullies and bullying behavior, using her own self-hatred and body image issues to justify the behavior of those she deemed better than herself in some way. It's a sad but interesting thought process to examine — the way that she felt that those who possessed what she herself wanted had the right to look down on her and others simply for not having it, and that she should be honored to even be in their presence for a moment, if they happened to entertain her.

She kept pictures of models on her wall, but not as inspiration in any positive sense of the word; rather, she ended up allowing it to be yet another way to make her feel worse about herself, and even imagined these "goddesses of beauty" mocking her and telling her she had no hope of ever being as pretty as they were.

In Sarah's mind, the supreme, inherent beauty of people like this — especially the Beautifuls — magically shielded them from all of life's pain and embarrassment, and to be accepted by them meant to be covered by that same forcefield, and given status, meaning, worth.

They had high status not because they were rich or had influential parents who could afford to give them anything they wanted and remove any obstacles placed in their way, but because they were beautiful — or at least, that was how she viewed it.

And she wanted that more than anything else. She wanted that, and she wanted to feel valued, and if the Beautifuls — who judged practically everyone but the ‘best’ — valued her and let her run with them, then she had the undeniable proof and reassurance she desperately sought and needed, even once she was already ‘beautiful’, that she had ‘true’ worth.

Applying this philosophy to Michael has an…interesting effect and implication.

While we’ll get into discussion of whether or not there’s anything potentially to be said about Michael and how he feels about his own appearance later, I think it’s very safe to say that, regardless of the answer, that’s obviously not what motivated him when it came to him joining the bully group he was a part of in his teens.

Still, it doesn’t have to be about beauty to tie back to Sarah and her philosophy; if we look at it logically, then like with Sarah, Michael’s reason for looking up to and joining the bullies must have been based off of three things: his own lack of self-worth and a need for that to be validated, the ability to gain status that helped him feel above life’s pain and embarrassment, and them having something he doesn’t, but wishes he had.

The second reason is very simple to work out and requires no pondering at all, as we know for a fact that obviously, being a bully in any capacity does grant you freedom from a lot of life’s inconveniences, as many people will be intimidated enough by you that you gain a certain level of status and free pass to do whatever you want without consequence. Despite Sarah’s (and hence, Michael’s) initial beliefs, it obviously does not truly protect you from all pain or humiliation, no, but it does grant you a significant edge, even if through rather unfortunate means.

As for the first reason, that is also very much tied to the third, so to answer one is to inevitably answer the other, but if not beauty, what was Michael’s greatest insecurity and desire?

Did he want to be wealthy, as the Beautifuls were? Obviously, the answer is no; looking at what little we can observe of Michael’s bully cohorts in his teens and what we can gather of some of them in their present lives, they didn’t particularly appear to be wealthy, and more than likely, given how successful Fredbear’s Family Diner was, Michael’s family would’ve been the richest out of all of them, even if they did appear to choose to live fairly humbly.

The only possible choice, then, is — as I posited in my previous article, and as is backed up by a later story — Michael’s greatest insecurity was in feeling that he was invisible to and largely unloved by his father and/or family in general, compared to his siblings, and, whether or not he originally particularly liked the power the bullies had and flaunted (something of which we cannot easily say one way or another at this point in time), he nevertheless looked up to them for how unaffected they were in life and potentially how their parents spoiled and loved them, and he simultaneously satisfied his loneliness and further fed the beast by choosing to be around them so that he could feel wanted and accepted by at least someone, feel power over at least something when he felt powerless elsewhere, and (as posited previously) act out more and more in an attempt to get the acknowledgement from his father or family that he craved so desperately.

And yet, this also raises a question; if, like Sarah, Michael perhaps believed that the bullies had the right to do what they wanted because they’d earned it through what they had (even if, in their case, it was mostly just power over their lives and the support of the parents), why didn’t he feel the same way about — as we know happened, both according to UCN and the later Lonely Freddy story I keep speaking of — Garret pranking him or otherwise (usually unintentionally) making his life harder? Wouldn’t he feel like he deserved it?

Actually, no, because Sarah was equally a hypocrite about it, when it came to those closer to her, for, despite expressing several times in both narration and dialogue that she believed Abby was beautiful and just didn’t flaunt it (and thus, should have gotten the same level of excusing as the Beautifuls did ), the moment that she felt judged by Abby, Sarah became angry and lashed out at her, because “friends were supposed to be the people who didn’t judge you”. — even though the Beautifuls were, in fact, allowed to judge her and set a standard for her even after they were supposedly friends.

I suppose, in their minds, it’s fine when it’s people who are consistently judgy or cruel to others from the moment you’ve met them, but not fine when it’s someone you grew up with and who is usually supposed to have your back.

2: And now, for probably the most burning question, does Sarah’s emphasis on body image issues have any potential to carry over to Michael, based on what we know of the mainline canon?

Well, going into this, I was fairly certain the resounding answer was just going to be ‘no’, but…after thinking it over and reviewing what we know is canon, I actually think there might be something to it, in a more mild sense.

I obviously don’t think that Michael feels he’s ugly; with the game version of Into the Pit giving us a new and unique, likely canon photograph of William and Henry, and with Sister Location blatantly confirming that Michael looks almost just like his father, I think it’s pretty safe to safe that Michael Afton is likely very conventionally attractive by most standards.

Now, that’s not to say it’s impossible that Michael could think he isn’t, regardless — it very clearly is, since Sarah hates her own appearance and thinks she’s ugly despite her looking just like her Mom, who she clearly thinks is pretty — but given canon, I think it makes more sense to say that if Michael does hate his appearance, it’s less because he isn’t attractive, and more because he looks just like his serial killer, child murdering father.

It would not surprise me in the least if, like Sarah, the mirror we see Michael staring into in Sister Location is indeed his worst enemy, because every time he looks into it, he’s reminded of his Dad, and what he himself did that caused all of this bloodshed in the first place.

It may have even sent him into an existential crisis now and again, as both he and his dad are technically both murderers in their own right. Did it perhaps make him spend hours wondering if, like their physical appearances, they really weren’t as different as he would want to believe?

And if there was a point in time pre- or during Sister Location when he wished to distance himself from that, then I’m sure that just like Sarah, there was eventually a moment of regret for that wish, when he finally looked into the mirror some time after being scooped and could barely recognize the mangled and failing (even if attempting to mend through remnant in spite of Ennard’s intrusion) body in front of him.

There’s clearly no way to know at this point in time, but I do find the implication rather interesting.

3: Going back to the Beautifuls and the bully symbolism for a moment, I do think there is a certain point of interest in some of the symbolism surrounding them and Sarah’s desire to join them.

The way that Abby compares the Beautifuls to a type of animal (penguins) because they are not varied or unique enough in appearance to truly be distinguishable from one another and the fact that Sarah had to get an entirely new face — more or less putting on a non-removable mask — to be acceptable among them, brings to mind, for me, the bullies that Michael associated with and joined around her age, and the concept of both having to wear a both figurative and semi-literal mask to be a part of them, and the comparison to animals in their lack of recognizable features definitely brings to mind the way that those bullies all wore masks of the Fazbear animatronic animal gang.

That could just be me, though.

4: I do think the fact that Sarah deciding to try to improve her life circumstances by buying the hair dye and just ending up more literally green (with envy) in the process has symbolism for something about Michael that is later revealed in Lonely Freddy, but as that would require spoilers for that story in order to explain it, I’ll just list this here for now as something to remember, and we’ll get back to it in that post.

5: Although, I don’t believe Abby is actually meant to be a stand-in for Elizabeth in any meaningful or lasting capacity beyond adding another similarity between Sarah and Michael in who they have a sibling-like dynamic with, there is at least one or two bits in the story that may have some relevance to either Elizabeth or Garret’s relationship with Michael.

In the book, it’s explained that Abby and Sarah grew up together and used to have a very close, sibling-like dynamic where they played together, but that Sarah eventually changed as she grew older and that she more or less had taken the attitude that she had “outgrown” Abby’s world and was now too focused on “fixing” her situation and obsessing over the Beautifuls (despite them being bullies) to hang out with her as she once did — feeling that Abby just didn’t understand her plight because she isn’t mature enough to get it.

For reasons that will become clear in Lonely Freddy, I’m not completely convinced this can apply to Garret, so I’m going to say that it’s Elizabeth this is mirroring, as not only is the character’s name a nickname for Elizabeth, but the dialogue from Scrap Baby in Pizzeria Simulator seems to hint that she and Michael may have had a slightly closer and more innocently playful relationship, but it’s open to interpretation.

Either way, the point is still the same: if applicable to Michael, this information would imply that once Michael began feeling invisible, the distance between him and his sibling(s) grew greatly, as he isolated himself from them more and more, feeling that they didn’t understand or care about the situation he was in and the fact they contributed to it. (Which is, intriguingly, information that UCN seems to partially back, at least in regards to Garret — minus, as far as I can recall, the implication that they were ever extremely close.)

Not really a big revelation, but still worth bringing up, I think.

6: In general, I think that Sarah getting to feel better about herself each of the four days of the transformation and getting closer to her ideal self while (unintentionally, in her case) helping Eleanor out could easily be very symbolic of the fact that helping Elizabeth — in the form of Circus Baby — was clearly Michael’s very first major act of self-redemption, and most likely did help him to feel at least a little less of the self-hatred he would’ve still felt over his other sibling’s tragic death, and gradually brought him one step closer to what he believed at the time would be making up for his mistakes.

7: While not really big or deeply significant enough to warrant their own separate little points in this list, there are just a few little lines from the book that I’d like to highlight as particularly capturing my attention when thinking about the subject of how Sarah relates to Michael:

“She might as well get used to being alone. She was always going to be alone.” Just more potential symbolism for how Michael felt in his day to day life growing up (and potentially even after, when it became clear that his father had only chosen him to help Baby because he knew he would agree). Nothing mind-blowing — the line just stood out to me.

“She felt sad, then she felt scared, and then she felt nothing at all.” Probably one of the saddest lines in the book, and even sadder when you realize that this is likely how Michael felt in the moment of being scooped, before his body was taken over. Sadness over being betrayed by his own sister and even his father, fear over what was clearly about to happen, and then nothing, once the scooper had done its job, until he eventually regained some form of consciousness to find his body being used.

There are a few other smaller things we could potentially examine in this way, but given there’s no major evidence towards those at this present moment other than that they’re true of Sarah, and Sarah is a stand-in for Michael, I think it’s better to leave it here for now.

Instead, as one last small topic that I don’t put half as much heavy stock in, but would still like to highlight anyway, for those of you in search of the elusive Mrs. Afton’s name (it almost certainly isn’t Clara, since the Security Logbook confirms that Michael in particular is the one who relates to Clara and her plight, and makes no mention of it being his Mom’s name), there may be something worth examining here — at least if you believe that Ballora could have been made to represent Mrs. Afton.

If you’d like to hear a more in-depth explanation of this, you can (and should!) check out this little video here by another smaller FNAF creator, but the basics are that the name Eleanor has ties back to the name “Lora”, which Ballora’s name could very easily be a combination of the word “Ballerina” and the name “Lora”. Meaning that it is possible that Mrs. Afton’s name is actually Eleanor, and because this story’s version of Circus Baby is more like an adult woman, she is using her mother’s name instead of Elizabeth, as a cover name.

…And with that, I believe we are actually, finally done here with this analysis of To Be Beautiful; it certainly ended up much, much longer than I expected it to be, despite my having already expected that it would be one of the longest I would write, but I hope that it was worth it to read.

Thank you for your time, and I look forward to seeing you in the next one, when we’ll talk about Count the Ways!

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years ago

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Misguided Ghosts, Part 7

Summary: It’s time for little Rosewyn Penelope Jensen

Pairings: Jake Jensen X Reader, Jake Jensen X Charles Blackwood

Rating: mature

Warnings: language, childbirth, mentions of going mad, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.5K

Series Masterlist

*dividers by @firefly-graphics

Strawberries. It’s all your little Rosewyn wanted to eat. Strawberry anything. Jake had made sure that there was a fresh stock of strawberry ice cream, strawberry yogurt, strawberry lollipops, strawberry wafers, strawberry Kit Kats, strawberry jam, strawberry preserves, and of course all the strawberries you could want. Varying different sizes, and colors, and something called pine berries that definitely looked like pink strawberries to you. Rosewyn Penelope loved those the most.

You stop your cutting of the pine berries to rub over your belly, “You better quit it,” you warn her. “I know you want a bite to eat, but if you don’t stop hurting mommy, you’re not getting anything,” your little angel quits kicking for a moment, and you pop one of the pink berries into your mouth.

“I’m making a strawberry, er, pine berry pie for us for tonight’s dessert. We’ll have some whipped cream, and…oh,” you grab at your stomach again, “Rosewyn, darling, please, the oven is nearly preheated.”

She won’t talk to you, ya know? Charles rolls his eyes, but still watches you curiously. There was a beauty to the way you moved around with just you and your bump. You loved the thought of being pregnant. Adored her already. I just don’t understand why you do the things you do. Even when she comes out of you, she’ll be dumb.

Your head perks up, and you turn to look behind you, staring directly at Charles who freezes. Did you hear me? Rosewyn, I apologize, but babies are dumb.

Taking a deep breath, because you felt yourself going crazy in this house. You swore you heard something. You start humming Brahms lullaby, ignoring whatever it was you heard. You have heard more voices since being pregnant. More reason to think you and Jake weren’t alone. That portrait had to go. You didn’t care if it was burned or taken to a museum, he had to go.

“Ugh,” you squeeze at your stomach again, slamming the knife on the counter, “Little lady if you don’t…oh shit,” trickles of liquid start drifting down your leg, and your lip starts to tremble. “J-J-Jake,” you squeak out, knowing that there was no way that he heard that. “Shit, ahh!” Crumpling up from the pain that lights up your body.

Charles stares at you dumbfounded for a moment, about to curse you for peeing on the floor. Oh shit! Your water broke.

“I’m seriously going crazy. Ahh!” You scream, starting to sink to the floor.

Jake! Jacob Jensen! Charles jumps from the counter, ready to find your boyfriend who was still sleeping away.

“I wanted to surprise, daddy!” You cry out, getting upset that the pie was most definitely put on hold. “Rosewyn, you love the pink strawberries.”

“Jake!” Charles materializes, starting to shake Jake awake. “Jacob!”

“Only my mother calls me that,” he mumbles, flopping over on the other side. “Go away. I’m mad at you.”

“Be mad, but,” he didn’t have to say anything when you scream again, and Jake jolts awake on the bed. “Yeah, she’s in labor.”

“You could have said something. Damn…how long?”

“That mucus plug you two were talking about is in my kitchen.”

“Really? You’re going to complain about something like that?” Jake asks, grabbing at his glasses. “These are dirty.”

“Jake! Jake, I think the baby is coming!”

“Damn. Shit! Fuck! Asshole,” he points a finger at Charles. “I’m putting clothes on! Uh,” Jake didn’t have time to think as he grabs up what he wore yesterday, and Charles turns up his nose, “I’ve got clothes in the bag beside the door…did I put it beside the door? Is it in the car? In the closet?”

“That monstrosity of yours, hers, and my daughter’s clothes is beside the door. You tripped over it, remember? Because it’s too big. Why do you need so many things?” Jake nods his head, slipping on some boots, without tying them. “Wait?”

“A baby is going to be coming out of my girlfriend, and you’re asking me to wait? Seriously? Timing, dude.”

“I’m not your dude. I just…” Jake’s eyes go wide, urging Charles to hurry with whatever he was wanting to ask, “Can I try and enter your body, and leave? There is a strong possibility she’s mine or at least both of ours. I want to be there.”

“Huh?”

“I know I’m an ass.”

“Yeah, threatening us. That’s my girlfriend, and my daughter, and you…you’re a meanie.”

“Jake! Hurry!”

“But I did help you land your girl, I should be there. I want to be there, and it might not even work,” staring with an irritated face, Jake holds his hands open wide, lifting his head to the ceiling. “Is this an invitation?”

“Are you a vampire? You have my permission to enter my body.”

“Jake!” You growl as Charles steps into Jake’s body, and Jake runs down the stairs, and into the kitchen where you were doubled over, trying to breathe steadily. “What. The. Hell. Took you so long?”

“I was…breathing?” You look up at him, and if looks could kill, Jake would be as dead as Charles. “I’m sorry, I’m kind of a…new man right now, and…wow, honey, you were making us a pine berry pie? Rosewyn would have been so happy.”

“Rosewyn is clawing her way out of my vagina.”

“Really?” He quips; his voice going up an octave.

“No, not really. But your daughter is also…ugh…” your eyes roll into the back of your head, as you grunt through the contraction. “She’s impatient Jake…can we?”

“Yeah, right. Right…oh can I look?” Your head jerks up to look at him so fast, and you curl your lip up at him. “Like, am I allowed to look when she’s playing peek-a-boo with your vagina?”

“Are you going to fuck me again?” You ask, directing Jake to walk you out the door.

Why would you want to see that?

“I like seeing your cunt stretched out,” he shrugs.

I worry about you. This is weird.

“It’s not weird. It’s beautiful. Sometimes it’s sexual, but this is beautiful. Our daughter is going to be squeezing out of your vagina. Yes, I’ll continue to have sex with you, Giggles, I’ve wanted this since we became friends.”

“You have?” You sweetly ask, stopping just to look up at him. He nods, smiling and gives you a kiss, “Jake, we’re about to be….ah! We gotta go. Let’s go.”

“Wish us luck,” Jake mumbles, hoping that he doesn’t feel Charles get jerked out of his body after he walks out of the house. Or leaves the property. Or…Jake wasn’t exactly sure where Charles was going to be cut off. He was thankful that for once Charles was quiet. Letting Jake fully be present with you.

He tries to flip his eyes to the back of his head, wondering if he could spy Charles. Would he know if he was still even with him? Would Rosewyn pop out of your body, and she glowed like how Charles sometimes did? He was starting to worry. He had too many questions.

“Yes!” Charles screams through Jake’s voice, and both you and Jake jolt at the scream. You turn to look at him confused, as he straightens the car back out.

Sorry. Just thought I’d let you know, I’m still very much present. And I wasn’t poofed back into my chair. Is it because that really is my daughter and I’m able to be with her.

Could you enter into the baby?

What?

“Well, wouldn’t it be neat to feel birth as a baby, but you were conscious as an adult,” trying to breathe through another contraction, you glare at Jake. “I mean, imagine seeing the vagina from the inside out.”

“Our baby is not interested in my vagina, Jake!”

“Oh,” he sheepishly says, apologizing to you. “I’m going to drive a bit faster.”

You’re an idiot. I’m not going to enter into the baby. It’s gross. The only part of me I want in her pussy is my fingers, my tongue, or my fat cock.

Or just use me to fuck her while she’s awake.

Are you ever going to tell her?

Are you?

Both men sit quietly, and Jake offers his hand over to you, and you grab it immediately. Squeezing the life out of his hand, while he grimaces. He didn’t even know what pain was. Didn’t know that you were enduring this for your precious angel.

Is she going to glow?

Who?

The baby. Let’s say the baby is in fact yours or at least a mix of us, will she glow?

I have no clue. I’ve never done this or even know if it’s possible. I saw her looking like a fucking goddess and she was flirting with my portrait, and I wanted to fuck her. Mid fuck I got the bright idea of knocking her up, and then YOU came into the picture. You were never meant to be there.

But…you have no idea what you’re doing? What if there’s like ghost STIs or…

I don’t have a disease! My cock is clean.

But…you just…you don’t know what you’re doing, and you’re testing out a theory.

That’s how all good scientists do their research.

Are you a scientist?

No.

I hate you.

I abhor you as well.

“Jake! Slow down, there’s the entrance to the damn hospital! Jake, are you freaking out because you’re about to be a dad?” You were starting to get worried. He was so distracted. It was weird, and made you nervous.

No, he’s just having a conversation with me in his head. Maybe I’m not even really here. Maybe you have descended into madness, and this is all a figment of your imagination.

“I’m so happy about being parents, and more happy because it’s with you. Our Rosewyn Penelope Jensen is going to be so spoiled,” and I hate you!

Ehh, I do think you really have gone mad.

“Oh, she’s…she’s giving birth right now,” the doctor lifts up your blanket, giving an awkward laugh up to you and Jake. “You weren’t lying dad. Look,” he smiles back at a nurse pointing towards you, “Hair.”

“Could you maybe fucking deliver our baby?”

“No need to cuss dad. We gotta wait on a contraction. Yep. There it is,” you hated this place. The doctor was a fucking weirdo. The nurses even looked at him like he was a pariah in his own hospital. They were disgusted by the way he was acting. “Dad, you want to watch?”

You give him a head nod as he steps down to you. His eyebrows go to the top of his head, and he looks back up with an awkward grin, “You feel that?”

“I feel everything,” you groan, pushing again. “Is she out yet?” You pant, getting a moment of rest while you wait. And here comes another one.

“She’s…uh, that’s my baby’s head. Oh! Giggles, keep going, baby. Keep…oh,” he looks up at you confused. And then back down to the doctor fully pulling Rosewyn out of you.

“She’s not crying. Jake, why isn’t crying? Is there something wrong with my baby,” the tears of pain were now worried cries, but then you see her fingers start to bend, “Why isn’t she crying?”

“She’s breathing,” Charles makes Jake turn to glare at the doctor. He had kept his eyes closed inside of Jake. He didn’t need to see you pushing out a baby. But then the doctor brought up the fact she was breathing. She looked a little blue to him. Blue meant ghostling. He was sure of that. “She’s just…she’s very calm. Rosewyn.”

“Don’t you pinch my baby!” Jake screams at him, ready to grab the baby and hold her close to his chest.

“I squeezed her arm,” he gives Jake a shrug, and looks over at you, “Overprotective dad, am I right? So…you guys live at Blackwood Manor?”

“It’s a castle!” Charles shouts through Jake, and Jake retches.

Man stop doing that. It’s making me sick.

“Yeah…so is that where you two live?”

“Can you give me my baby!” What was wrong with this man? You just wanted to hold your daughter, and he was asking about where you lived. “Once I have her, then we can discuss my place of living.”

“Doctor, the baby, she needs her mom,” a nurse looks between you and the doctor. “The mother and baby need each other.”

“Oh, yeah. Won’t have to pinch her anymore. You got a, um,” he stops talking long enough for the nurse to get you situated. “Yeah, uh…my mom always told me that my dad was the illegitimate son of Charles Blackwood.”

What did he just say?

“For real? Like, you’ve got Blackwood blood in you? That creepy…handsome portrait of Charles is in our formal living room,” you couldn’t stop staring at this precious baby. Her eyes blink up at you, and you can't stop your tears. She was perfect. So soft, so beautiful, and she was yours and Jake’s.

“That’s the rumor. Oh, here comes the after birth.”

Please, don’t watch that.

I’m going to watch my baby.

“Jake,” you whine, picking up your daughter who was wide eyed and sight looking around the room. “She never cries. Have you heard her cry?”

“No.”

Because she’s a ghostling. You see a bit of blue in her skin color? Haunting blue.

“She’s fine,” he squeaks, reaching out to hold her. “Are you sleeping?”

“No,” you admit. You couldn’t relax. “I’m afraid that she’ll starve to death. Am I nursing her too much? And then I think she’s always got a dirty diaper, but she just doesn’t cry. She doesn’t whine, doesn’t make a peep. And…something is wrong. Rosewyn, won’t you cry for mommy?”

Oh, my god, Charles rolls his eyes. He walks over to Jake, leaning over Rosewyn, and she sneezes. Looking directly at him, before her mouth turns up into a smile. Most parents would kill to be in your position. A baby that never cries sounds like a walk in the park. And she smiles at me.

“I just feel that there’s something wrong with her.”

“She doesn't look blue,” Jake says too loudly. “She’s perfect. Look at her. She’s a little princess. No! A little angel.”

A little ghost.

“A perfect little angel,” he repeats, pulling you over onto his arms. “And I got the best girls in the world.”

And you're the best delusional step father I’ve ever met. Have you figured out if I’m a ghost or if you’re just going crazy? It’s kinda funny to get into your thoughts, replying to everything. Maybe Jakey Jakey is a bit crazy? Haha…you don’t even know what is real.

“She’s real, Giggles. And she’s really ours.”

You’re going to pretend I don’t exist now aren’t you? Have me in your thoughts for the rest of your life. But ignore me. Ignore my every word as you sink further into your darkness. Your little blue tinted baby that’s really mine, saw me. Do you even know what’s real anymore? Are you even here? Is she even here? Have you created this reality because you couldn’t face the real one? Weren’t you captured in war? Can you be sure what’s real?

“I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted. Right in my arms.”

Live in denial. You and I both know what’s really going on here, don’t we?

Don’t we?

Masterlist

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