#thank u for offering me a chance to be insane for just a second . it is very much appreciated

[potofbees]

Smiles at you, devilishly. This but with the guy who starts with a A and wakes up or whatever.

youuu..... wheng i GET you

this makes me realize i really am a sucker for characters that have lots and lots of problems. my favs always end up being freaks that i would write entire dissertations on for a psychology class and this man is no different. they could make entire psychology courses devoted to the mind of this 1 guy and the many horrible decisions he has made. i am captivated by him and he deserves so much better but he also deserves the torture labyrinth just a little bit. u know how it is. hes just some guy but also hes a metaphor for mental illness but also hes a metaphor for artists block but also hes a metaphor for addiction but also hes a metaphor for how capitalism corrupts art but also none of that matters cause hes kind of a loser. every time i think about this guy i feel compelled to write an essay. freak behavior. he is an extremely well written and fascinating character but never in a million years would i ever want to meet this guy in real life. i got my own problems to deal with hope he gets to talk to a therapist in the third game or whatever but thats not MY problem.

hope this helps :thumbs_up: (im normal)

[gokubrain]

are you aware of the hit vegeta image song ‘love is like a ballad’ from the fusion reborn soundtrack where it’s essentially a kakavege love song 😭😭

https://www.animelyrics.com/anime/dbz/ainobaraado.htm

and i’m 99.9% sure it’s about goku too because it uses the word ‘yatsu’ which is only used by men to refer to other men in a derogatory way… it drives me so insane

OH YOU ALREADY KNOWWWW IM WELL AWARE OF THIS LMFAO thank u for giving me the chance to talk about it HAHA

under here cuz its kind of a lot:

lets break down the lyrics shall we ..

right off the fucking bat. starting off STRONG. for vegeta to even have the thought “on this small earth life must be protected to the end” is such a good line but pairing it with “but whenever i look at you i feel like a fool” CRAAZYYYYY. insane. protecting the earth is a huge part of all the earthlings’ characters, and without goku, vegeta wouldnt have those feelings. to talk about protecting earth in one line and then immediately talk about goku next is wildddd. “i want to protect the earth, you taught me the importance of that, and yet when i look at you im reminded that it’s because of YOU that i hold these feelings about this planet.” like okAAAY alright okay!!

“why do i treat you so harshly? why do i hurt you that way? yet still fight against great evils” GRAAAHHHH this is insane right LMAO

vegeta displaying confusion as to why he treats goku the way he does when they share the same goal.. when they fight the same battles.. this self aware-ness is literally what early-stage kakavege IS dude. vegeta feeling conflicted about his actions vs his emotions is the first step to realizing he’s in love with goku.. haha. lol

“for the sake of love […] i would even throw away my rank” VEGETAAA. WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUTTTTT LMFAO….

vegeta suggesting he would disown his own ranking, his pride, something very near and dear to him.. this is also early kakavege core LMAO i mean come on. thats just an insane fucking thing for him to say. unreal.

IT JUST KEEPS GETTING BETTER….!!!

“IN TRUTH, THIS POWER IS NOTHING. ALL I KNOW IS YOU.” VEGETA……..!!!!!!!!

ALL I KNOW IS YOU? ALL I KNOW IS YOU???

“although i pretend to be a steel wall […] all i know is you” is just. i mean. EXPLICITLY kakavege. this is kakavege poetry. this is vegeta’s struggle perfectly put into lyric form. i cant believe this fucking song exists lmfao

NOW. NOW..

“the smile you give me is always warm” is wild when thinking about how the entire fusion reborn movie consists of 45 minutes of goku smiling lovingly at vegeta LMAO DONT EVEN THINK VEGETA DIDNT NOTICE. !!

“here i am, offering myself completely if we can be together”

AINT THAT JUST THE ICING ON THE CAKE FOLKS. DONT THAT JUST BEAT ALL LMFAO. ANYONE ELSE FEEL SUPER NORMAL RN?

offering myself completely. giving my all to you. devoting myself to you. THIS IS ONE OF THE FUCKING BUILDING BLOCKS OF KAKAVEGE DUDE. THIS IS ONE OF THE RUNNING THEMES, A KAKAVEGE LEITMOTIF. THIS IS SO VEGETA. I WANNA DIE LMFAO

“if we can be together” …. i mean. what even is there to say about that. how much more explicit can he be here. this is the most straightforward thing vegeta will ever say in terms of kakavege lmao this is it folks. this is IT !!!

its just unreal right. that a song like this even exists.. i mean its so obviously about goku, talking about training together and vegeta being mean to him and protecting earth together and throwing away his rank….. if you think even for one second that this is about bulma you are BLIND. like lets all be serious a moment lmao

and i love that this is related to fusion reborn of all things. that movie is the fucking kakavege bible dude i SWEAR. this whole song makes so much sense if you see fusion reborn as a love story, it all fits so perfectly with how vegeta would theoretically be feeling during the (vaguely referenced) place in the timeline that this movie takes place. this is buu arc shit baby its the point of no return for vegeta its the beginning of the end.. he is realizing his feelings for goku.. i live for this shit man seriously this is what i thrive on

also the goddamn song is called “love is like a ballad” i mean what else can even be said lmfao ..!

[bluiex]

good luck with the sleeping schedule bluie!!! here is a ficlet for when u wake up lol (sorry it got long) --------------

"You have to help me," the young man whispered, his words hissed out with weighty intention.

Mumbo recognized the emphasis; he was trying to cast a spell. It did nothing to quell the anxious knot forming in his stomach, nor did it even work, but it told him a few things.

One, this person had magic. Two, his magic wasn't working. Three, he wasn't above using magic to get what he wanted. What an incredibly safe person to be around!

Not.

But there were other things about him too: his hair was shaggy and uneven, his face thin and gaunt along with the rest of his body, and there was a tremble about him, that every fiber of his being was itching to run the second he had the chance.

"Why should I?" Mumbo whispered back, eyeing the bedroom door every few seconds. This was insanity, he was a guest in the house of an elf, to be harboring a stranger in his bedroom that moments ago was bolting down the hallway in the middle of the night had to be the height of inappropriate behavior.

"Scar is lying to you," the man said, deathly serious. "He's going to keep you prisoner."

Mumbo shook his head in disbelief. "Do you really expect me to believe that? Scar has been nothing but kind to me, and I don't even know who you are! This is outrageous, I'm telling him—"

He tried to step around the stranger, who darted back in front of him. "Just let me explain! Please, we can't have much time left, and what do you have lose listening to the ravings of a crazy person?" When Mumbo didn't budge, the man carried on, "I'll tell you my side, and if you still think I'm crazy I'll turn myself over to Scar personally."

The stranger made a fair point. What did Mumbo have to lose?

With a small nod, the stranger stepped back with a relieved sigh. "God, thank you. Thank you."

"Make it quick," Mumbo muttered, glancing at the door again.

"Right. Hello, my name is Grian," he said quickly, "and I was like you once. You traveled alongside the mountain range when a snowstorm was about to hit, right?"

When Mumbo nodded again, Grian's jaw tightened. "A snowstorm is always 'about to hit' around here. When I was traveling, it was late June and clouds still rolled overhead. But you can't hear the storm at all, can you?"

They listened out, and surely enough, the manor was silent, as though they were the only two people breathing in the home. Mumbo's stomach churned again.

"He brought me home with him," Grian continued, "by offering his hand. He took my coat, and gave me dinner, and we spent all night by the fireplace, talking about so many things. If I'd had the time, I probably would've spent a few days more with him."

There was a guilty look in Grian's eyes. "It's part of his game. He makes himself out to be such a worldly person, you could talk to him forever. You don't want to stop, because he makes you feel heard, and laugh, and it's as though the outside world ceases to exist. There's a magic in his words, and in this place that's lethal to humans."

Mumbo hesitated. "…This isn't the real world, is it?"

Grian pinched his lips together. "He's not an elf, either."

There's a gentle knock on the bedroom door, and Grian yelped, bolting behind Mumbo. "He's fae," Grian whispered hastily. "He's a fae and he wants a mate, someone to play with. He goes after human travelers, makes them into fae too, and keeps them here like trophies of war."

"How long have you been here?" Mumbo whispered, the knocking growing slightly louder.

"Five years. Five. Years." With a grit of his teeth, "I've seen mates come here to die, I've seen them disobey one too many times and suffer the consequences. I used to listen, because I thought eventually he would let me go, but he just thinks I'm falling in love with him and holds on even tighter. Tonight was my one chance, and I've ruined it, god…" There was a muttered curse under his breath, and Grian grabbed tight onto Mumbo's arm when the knocking echoed again.

"Lock the door," Grian hissed. "Freeze it or something, spell it shut."

"Why don't you do it?" Mumbo hissed back.

Grian glared up at him, and Mumbo could see magic sparking in his eyes that kept dying down. "I'm his pet, remember? He's ordered me to not use magic. I can't."

There wasn't a difference to be made in who cast the spell, however, because they were both too late. The was a whispering on the other side of the door, and the deadbolt unlocked.

"Well, hello there," Scar said with a smile, slowly opening the door. "I didn't expect you two to meet just yet, but I suppose it was only a matter of time."

"Although," Scar's smile wavered, "I don't think barging into Mumbo's bedroom is all that nice of you. Why don't you go off to bed now, Grian? Wait for me."

If Grian's words earlier had been heavy with magical intention, Scar's were woven with it, as though there were no difference in those that were spelled and those that weren't. Grian averted his eyes, though from fear or rage was hard to tell.

He walked quietly out of the room, and Scar turned his attention back to Mumbo.

"I hope he didn't startle you," Scar said, stepping forward and shutting the bedroom door behind himself.

Mumbo took a step back, his expression stiff and cold. "I don't want to be rude," he said carefully, "but I don't think you've been an honest host. Why don't I take a quiet exit, and we forget this ever happened?"

Scar blinked, his smile turning naive. "Forget what happened?"

Mumbo's relief only lasted a moment. "Nothing, nothing at all! I'll just pack my things—"

"Oh, right, you trying to run away from me, that," Scar laughed. "That was a good try, I have to admit, but it's going to take more than some paltry human magic to make me forget you. As a matter of fact, I don't know that you need that magic down here anyways."

Scar wasn't spelling him yet. He was giving Mumbo a choice. Obedience, or forced submission. Either way, it was implied he was staying.

"See, it makes sense to agree," Mumbo said, slowly nodding along. He bit his tongue, praying that what he was about to do wasn't the stupidest thing ever.

"But I don't want to be trapped in a cage," Mumbo said, bracing himself as the bedroom door behind Scar crumbled to dust, and he bolted around him, making a mad dash around random corners of the manor.

He didn't know where was front from back, what was an exit or what was a dead end, but if he kept moving, maybe Scar would give up the chase eventually.

Unfortunately, Scar didn't need to chase after Mumbo himself. He was disappointed as he walked towards Grian's bedroom, a wilted look to him. There was so much promise in this new pet, but then again, he thought Grian was perfect once upon a time too.

Humans were inherently flawed, but enough time here would eradicate those imperfections.

"Grian," Scar said, opening the bedroom door to see the human sitting stiffly on the bed, waiting. "Our new friend isn't following the rules. Why don't you go get him for me?"

Against his will, Grian stood up, walking swiftly out the door. Scar stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Curse him if he speaks out. Just this once."

It went unspoken that this was Grian's redemption, his mercy from another miserable death like the others. Like it or not, the introduction of another disobedient pet had made Grian's position interesting again, and Scar was always excited to continue his favorite game.

It was the only thing keeping the two of them alive.

Seems I've failed my task XD

BUT MAN SUCH A GOOD LITTLE FICLET TO WAKE UP TOO OMG

God i bet Mumbo, whne he sees Grian is surprised but relieved cuz now they both can go together. Grian is smiling until he gets up to him and then just tried convincing him to come back to Scar.. Grian is forced to curse Mumbo- but with what tho

[watercolor-hearts]

Hi hi! Ik AO3 is down too, i wamna read fics so bad.it hurts. But i saw your post on wanting to write. So...u can choose ,Up to your likings!

Simi

Prompt:

1. Its Just a Nightmare, Its nothing real

2. A won a stuff animal for B

3. They go out on a date and one of them is sick

4. I wish we'd have more time

Charlos:

1. Can you please hold me

2. You're falling asleep on me love

3. Your hands are big, I love it

4. Come, sit on my lap

Hi,

Thank you for offering me options, it's really nice of you. 😊❤ I chose the fourth one for the Simi story. It's a bit sad-ish at the beginning because it's a conversation about death and a past medical problem but I don't do sad ending so it's happy at the end. It still made me cry though but I cry at everything so it's not surprising. (Since it's a bit longer than I planned it to be, I'm gonna post the second story in a separate post once I'm done with it. 😊)

Seb/Kimi • 1354 words • conversation about death • past heart attack • crying • old age • growing old together • fear of the loss of a partner • grandparents Simi • future female F1 driver • happy ending • Ao3 link

-

“You know, sometimes I wish we would have more time,” Seb said, leaning on Kimi's shoulder as they were sitting in their outdoor swing, enjoying the nice weather surrounding their home in Switzerland. 

“We still have plenty of time.”

“I hope so,” Seb smiled, searching for Kimi's hand to hold it and to look at their interlocked hands, all wrinkly and old but still just as beautiful as it was when they started dating fifty years ago. 

It's insane to think that it's been fifty years and they stuck together forever. Sebastian thinks about it a lot. Kimi not much. Or he doesn't talk about it. He usually just listens to Seb talking. Seb loves talking, Kimi loves listening, and they complete each other. 

“Do you ever think about death?” Seb asked, looking at Kimi's face. His husband didn't look at him when he answered. 

“No.” It wasn't an honest answer but Kimi didn't want to talk about this topic. It hit too close to home. 

“I do,” Seb said, and then there was silence. 

A long, long silence. 

Kimi stared at the Alps rising in front of them, hoping for a change of topic. Seb looked at their hands, thinking about whether to tell what was in his mind. 

“That day...,” Kimi was the one to break the silence to Sebastian's surprise, “That day I almost lost you. When... When...”

“When I had that heart attack,” Seb finished Kimi's sentence. 

A fucking heart attack, Kimi thought, when Seb was a sportsman for the majority of his life. And then one day he almost died because of a fucking heart attack. 

“Yeah.” 

And then there was silence again but Seb was waiting patiently because he knew Kimi hadn't finished what he wanted to say and needed a bit of time to do it. 

“I just... Hate death,” Kimi sighed, “I don't want to think about it. I already thought too much about it when you were in the operating room. Death almost took you away from me.”

“But I'm still here,” Seb said, reassuringly caressing Kimi's hand and looking at him with a soft smile on his face, “I might be a bit old and my body sometimes not working properly but I'm still here. I don't want to go. But... I do think about death. And I want to talk about it because we're not that young anymore.”

“You can talk about it.”

“I started preparing for it. Mentally. I've been preparing for it since I started racing but that was different because I was young and healthy and it was just the dangerousness of the sport that made me think about it. But now I think... Death is only scary if you weren't living your dream and you just wasted your whole life. I had the chance to live my dream and then when it was over I found other dreams to live. And I never felt like I missed out on something. As I got old—we got old, I realized that death is a part of the whole thing. We don't know when but it will happen one day because that's how it works. We are born, live, and then die. And what matters in it is how you live your life, what makes you happy, what is your passion. I still have passion; I love our bees and our little honey business. And if you live your life fully you won't fear death because then you'll know that it's natural that everything comes to an end after a while.”

Kimi looked at Seb, hesitating to say what he wanted to say. But he did say it because communication is important for a good relationship and also, they don't always have to agree. 

“You weren't the one that had to experience seeing his husband almost die at home and then in the ambulance too. I was the one who had to see it and hope that I won't have to leave the hospital alone, Seb,” Kimi said, finally looking into Sebastian's eyes, “I can't think about death like it's something... Something nice and reassuring and part of life and things like that. I'm okay with my death. I don't care about it. But yours is different. You're my husband, you're my everything. It's not a part of my plans to see you leave me alone for the rest of my life. If you have to go, I want to go with you. It wouldn't be the same without you.”

And this was when tears started filling Sebastian's eyes and he really had to concentrate not to let his lips tremble and crying overcome him. 

“Please don't cry,” Kimi said, pulling Seb closer, “I didn't want to make you cry.”

“I'm not, I'm not,” Seb tried to save the situation but cried anyway. 

“Sorry.”

“No, it's okay,” Seb mumbled, “I just... I didn't think about it this way. Like... Losing you. In my mind, it was always that we go together and that way it was never really scary. But... It's a legitimate fear to lose your partner. Especially after what happened a few weeks ago. Sorry for ripping off the bandage and thank you for telling me how you feel about this.”

“It's okay,” Kimi said, kissing Seb's head, his hand brushing his husband's last few white-ish curls. 

“I love you so much I wanna be with you forever,” Seb murmured, hugging Kimi a bit tighter. 

“I love you too,” Kimi whispered, letting the tears roll down his cheeks as there was no reason to hold them back. He learned to appreciate the precious time he gets to spend with Seb and since Seb never really held his emotions back, Kimi didn't have to either. “We've survived fifty years next to each other. Forever is more than possible.”

“Grandpa Seb! Grandpa Kimi! I'm here!” They heard a familiar voice coming closer and closer. Kimi wiped off his tears while Sebastian released him from the hug. “You said you want to see me before the final round.”

“Our little Formula 2 champion is here,” Seb said, smiling at the girl, Lily, their first grandchild out of five so far. With Kimi's help, Seb got out of the swing and went to hug his granddaughter. 

“Not a champion yet,” smiled Lily as he hugged back.

“But for sure gonna be one,” Kimi said, squeezing her shoulder. 

“That's the goal, yeah” she nodded. 

“Let's go to the kitchen,” Seb said, heading to the house, “we cooked your favorite as a good luck present before the last race. You need to have a good meal to have energy for the next week to be able to prepare for the weekend.”

“Aww, you really didn't have to do this for me.”

“We wanted to,” Kimi said, opening the door for them. They went to the kitchen and before Seb could show Lily what they made for him, Lily looked at them like she had something very important to say.

“Are you alright?” Seb asked to make sure she was okay. Lily nodded. 

“Yeah, I just... I want to tell you something...,” she started, hardly able to hold her smile back, “It's a secret so please don't tell anyone but... Ferrari has offered me a test drive!” she said, wanting to jump out of her skin. 

“Oh my god, congratulations!” Seb said, eyes wide in surprise, giving her a bone-crushing hug. 

“They still have eyes for the talent,” Kimi noted, “Congratulations, little one,” he hugged her too, “You're the future now.”

And after this, Seb and Kimi didn't talk about the death again because they had already settled everything important about it and they had a far more important thing to do: watch their granddaughter win the Formula 2 championship and then become the first-ever female Formula 1 driver for Ferrari. She is the future and she has everything it takes to be the best. Kimi and Seb might be the past in the history of racing but they still have a lot to do in this world as they're the ones that make the future unstoppable. 

[miraclewoozi]

CONGRATS ON THE MILESTONE, BB! i’m here to submit a smut request for soonyoung + “i’ll be good, i promise,” especially if he’s the one who says it 😵‍💫

no pressure! thank you for opening this up to us 💕

BEST BEHAVIOUR. -k.sy

500 follower party <3 ( accepting until 14th March ! )

pair : soonyoung x fem!reader.  prompt : ‘ i’ll be good, i promise. ’ SMUT. MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. wc : 1.1k! heads up / smut tags : swearing. desperate sub!hoshi. reader’s a little mean but it’s with love. thigh riding. wrist binding (m rec). handjob (m rec.). touch denial. notes : jade. i love u. thank u for sending this, pls know that i feel *so* insane over this prompt + hoshi that i have thought about it pretty much every single day.<3 ( also sry this is barely proofread ;-; )

Soonyoung’s abs ripple underneath your palm as you sit astride one of his thighs, using his sturdy frame for leverage. Your fingers curl down against his skin, both pinning him to the mattress and succeeding to help relieve some of the pressure building up inside you; you’ve been rolling your hips down and dragging your cloth-covered core against his muscles for the better part of twenty minutes now, and you have to admit… This is starting to feel like just as much of a punishment for you as it is one for him.

But then, you look up at him. At his face, first, and how his bottom lip is pinched so harshly between his teeth that it must be painful, eyes squeezed tightly shut enough that his skin creases at both the inner and outer corners. With his cheeks flushed, nose scrunched, the veins down the side of his neck bulging, sweat beading on the column of his hickey-covered throat... he’s wrecked, but at the same time, he looks so fucking pretty. Almost pretty enough to convince you to stop the games and let him rail you both into next week.

Almost… but not quite.

After selfishly letting yourself admire him a little too long, your gaze comes to land at his wrists. They’re not only tied together: they’re bound to your headboard, secured with a length of satin (a makeshift restraint, borrowed from the belt of your dressing robe) and depriving him of the one thing he’s been craving since he saw you step out into the living room in your pretty little getup for Wonwoo’s superhero costume party.

To touch you.

To be the reason you make all these sweet little noises. To grip at your soft skin and feel every inch of you as he loses his mind in everything you have to offer.

You knew what you were doing when you bought that Catwoman outfit online, but his reaction was far better than you could have possibly hoped for. He sprung a hard-on within seconds of setting his eyes on you and tried to convince you to let him fuck you before you left the house, but with a roll of your eyes, you told him to be patient and wait until you got home. For about half an hour, you thought he was going to obey that order, too.

But as the evening wore on, your pretty little boyfriend found it more and more difficult to keep his hands off you, stealing sneaky little gropes and pressing himself against you every chance he got. And that’s why you won’t let him touch you, now. That’s why he has to suffer knowing that you’re getting yourself off on him, and not thanks to him. Not because of him. Not with him. 

The more your heady arousal soaks the air around you both, the less control he feels like he has. As well behaved as he’s tried to be since you got home and sternly told him to strip, you just know it’s not going to take much more of this before he starts to crumble.

True enough, barely a minute later…

“Please – untie me,” he begs, the crown of his head still pressing hard into your pillows. “I’ll– I’ll be good, I promise.”

Soonyoung almost never looks you in the eyes when he gets like this. Now and again, he’ll glance at you, but it’s always at your lips or your tits or your hands, if you’re using them to punish him in some way. Tonight, he chooses to stare at the insides of his eyelids. And it’s not because he’s too shy, or he thinks he’s above being polite. He can be very well mannered, if you tell him to be. 

Rather, it’s because he knows you’re going to say no.

Sometimes, except he’ll never disclose this fact out loud, it feels so good to be denied that if he looks at your face as you say it? It’s all over for him.

Even though it agonises you to do so, you lift yourself off him and break all contact, hovering over the slick mess you’ve made, staring down at him. He tries to buck upwards. Tries to slot his thigh back between your legs, just to feel the heat radiating off your pussy again: even if it’s not wrapped around his dick, it’s so much better than being completely neglected that he’s probably willing to let you do this to exhaustion if it means you don’t fucking stop.

“And why…” you begin, sighing, trailing your fingertip down the soft hairs below his navel and pausing just above where he wants you. “...would I believe you now?”

He whimpers at the gentle drag of your nail, dropping his hips back down onto the bed sheets.

“Because–” he starts. You travel even lower and for the first time tonight, you touch his length: from the base, you trace the thick, throbbing vein that travels up the underside of his leaking cock and he shudders, hands balling into fists above his head. “Because – I promise this time. I promise. I promise, I promise–”

When your fingers wrap fully around his shaft, Soonyoung lets out a choked little sound that interrupts his stream of begging. You grin at him, squeezing your fist, and finally now, he looks at you. His eyes continue to beseech what his mouth no longer can. 

But you shake your head at him, not dropping your wicked smile. You drop your weight back down onto his thigh and continue to grind yourself down against him, at the same time now stroking his dick languidly. Nowhere near fast or firmly enough to get him off: you’re sure if anything, he probably wishes you weren’t. It’s harrowingly slow. Painfully light. You watch precum continue to bead at his tip and dribble down onto your fingers as he falls back against the pillow, turning his head to try and conceal his desperation in his arm.

“When I think you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll untie you,” you promise, flicking your wrist near the head of his cock and hearing him groan into his own skin. “Until then… be really, really good for me. Okay?”

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 13: ...O-OH?

it’s the night of the big stream. y/n uncovers a strange, albeit deep, bond with charlie. corpse interrupts her garden date with sykkuno quite unceremoniously. tensions are high as ever; proximity chat reveals internal monologues and stray thoughts. y/n’s “batshit insane” energy affects everyone. this is, quite literally, the best game of among us bretman has ever played.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (if you squint, it’s very one sided)  ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 6.1k oops ─── ❥ reqs: sum people requested some interaction w bretman + jealous corpse + flirty sykkuno

author’s note: guys....GUYS WE’RE ON THE 3RD “OH” hope ur excited cus i am!!! this was rly fun to write, but then again, everything is better than writing an essay lmao! this is extremely chaotic and a bit seggsy but like a minuscule bit u wont even notice it i swear xx there’s not much social media in this one, mostly written lol. as always lmk wat u think n thank u for all ur kind words n sooo manyyyy ideassss!!! love u lots

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It’s happening, you think, picking the discreet, angelic white color for your astronaut - with a halo and all, truly, you are a seraph that stepped through the gates of heaven and descended onto earth to grace these morals with your presence...quite literally, you’re not only donning white in game, but also in real life, cute as a button or more like as a bunny. Cat girls are overrated - cat boys, on the other hand, you’ll ardently defend till your last breath - but bunny girls...Safe to say, your chat had been going feral. Your endless ego is fed well. You even swore on your heart that no devilish trickery would follow in this game - you had left your snake ways behind you.

No one believed you. The Roaches know you too fucking well.

The influx of new subs, however, do not. Look at this cute girl! She wouldn’t hurt a fly! You chuckle at the compliments. At the exact same moment, Rae pipes up on the discord call, “Y/n is leering and cackling evilly. No one trust her.”

Demon woman herself must be watching your stream before starting her own. You pout, all adorable and innocent, but your eyes gleam slyly. Truly, a mastermind of manipulation! Look at you go! The chat is swooning. The viewer number steadily climbs past 16K and you hum happily, welcoming all that decided to join your little clan, “Don’t listen to Rae. Wifey is mad because I said I’m not bringing her back a souvenir. Well guess what, bitch, I’m the gift.”

Your perfect image does not quite align with your tone, nor the affectionate nickname you call your roommate (bitch, not wifey). The new viewers are none the wiser though, just like your new stream mates.

There is laughter from people you don’t quite know. The lobby is almost full, but not everyone has trickled in yet.

“Filing divorce papers right now.” Rae mumbles, but you hear the smile in her voice. It makes you crack a grin, too. 

More hello’s and shy introductions to the people in the lobby. Sykkuno’s green astronaut pops in with a upbeat, “Hey, everyone! Hi, Y/n!” as his character circles around yours. A collective awww echoes in your stream chat as you, quite breathless at the wholesomeness, reply with a “Hi! Hi hi!” as well.

Corpse is next to join, mysteriously ominous. The discord call is pure chaos, everyone screaming over the other variations of his name while stressing different syllables. Silent as a grave, he just stands there, his black astronaut seemingly eyeing everyone in the lobby. 

Alas, when the noise dies down, he utters, “Whaddup, baby.” and it’s pandemonium all over again. You are screeching/laughing along with the rest. His astronaut swiftly glides to Sykkuno, still circling around you, “Hey, Sykkuno.” He says. The latter abruptly stops. The game hasn’t even started, and already - betrayal! Sykkuno starts circling around Corpse now, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yo,” You interrupt, “I’m like here too, yeah?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” Pokimane jeers. You can’t see her, but you’re certain she’s pumping her fists in the air. 

“Let’s leave the bloodshed for the game, yeah?” Dream offers past her laugh ridden urging.

“No, fuck that, let’s start this shit right now,” Charlie declares - his monotone is strangely pleasant to the ear, and you lean back in your chair with a thoughtful hum. Something about his energy just clicks with yours instantly, but perhaps you’re judging too quickly- “Got my fucking knife ready to slit some throats. You can all pretend you aren’t ready to kill on sight, but that’s not me. I’ll teabag your dead fucking body.”

-yeah, no, your initial estimate had been correct! What a pleasant surprise, you feel like you and he will get along beautifully. 

“Way to be subtle, Charles.” Rae snorts.

“Subtle doesn’t make an interesting game, Rae,” He’s quick to bite back, “and if I’m Impostor, you bet your fucking ass I’m going after you first.”

“Noooooo!” She shrieks, rushing to your astronaut, which is still just standing there, abandoned, like the equivalent of that one emoji, “Y/n, protect me.”

“Of course, baby.” You purr. 

There’s mumbling in the discord call, though it’s barely audible. Corpse seems to be repeating the word to himself: Baby...Baby?...Baby...

“You’re gonna stab me in the back the first chance you get, won’t you?” She questions, already painfully aware of the answer.

“You know it!”

“Finally, someone that’s not fucking cowering in their boots and flaunting their real nature.” Charlie says, “Y/n, form a Big Dick Alliance with me.”

“Oh for sure, man.” You agree immediately, trailing to his in game figure, “Let’s show these virgins how it’s done.”

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice rings with a cheerful laugh, making you flustered. Yes, you’re actually playing with THE JacksepticeyeTM. You still haven’t fully wrapped your head around that part, “I’m very excited to see where this will go.”

“Nowhere good.” You say with unparalleled sincerity - every word you speak to him, the icon, the legend, the one of the few youtubers you actually actively follow, must be genuine. You doubt you can lie to him. He’s too good of a person. You admire him too much. Stuck between wanting to be a shady bitch and an absolute saint, you refrain from addressing him more - you are simply not worthy.

its the y/n trying to act like a normal person in front of jack for me

ikr she looks ready to join the monastery

each day we stray closer to gods light???

Your viewers are snide as always. Gosh, you love them.

The last player pops in, fashionably late, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hey, Bretman!” The call choruses somewhat harmoniously.

“Hi, daddy.” He’s speaking to Corpse now, a smile in his voice - you can hear it even past the static of his atrocious mic. Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. Your friends are cackling, but confusion refrains you from doing the same - were you not the only one Corpse offered, seemingly so long ago!, to be his sugar baby? 

One betrayal after the other. You’re glad for the Big Dick Alliance. The name has a nice right to it, too. 

Corpse laughs, “...Hey, Bretman. How are you today?”

Damn, two sentences for him, but not even a word spoken to you!? You’re already scripting a very melodramatic paragraph you will text him after the stream. With poorly masked discontent, you mutter, “Wow, thanks for such a warm welcome, Corpse, my day’s going great, yeah, loving the company.”

“Now now miss girl,” Bretman chimes, “we can’t be all daddy’s favorite.”

“Careful,” Charlie drones, “I think you just got yourself onto Y/n’s shit list.”

“Right next to Corpse Husband and Valkyrae.” You agree, “Sykkuno!” You suddenly call him.

“Uhm-Uh-Yes?” Is his nervous reply.

“You’re safe.” You state coldly, “For now.”

“You are not going after Sykkuno on my watch.” It must be a belated holiday miracle because Corpse finally decides to address you. His words seem to awake something in him, “Hey-Hey-Hey-” He swiftly glides to you, standing right next to your minute virtuous angel, “When are you coming back to Cali?”

corpse stop acting weird challenge

literally omg lmao

he does bring up a good point y/n y u not in cali yet?!

^pack it up corpse simp he disrespected the queen when he didnt say hi

“Back off, buddy,” Charlie interjects, “this spot is for Big Dick Alliance members only.”

“I’m never returning.” You inform him, your voice cold like the Arctic snow, and the look in your eyes is no kinder. You feel like you’re having a stare down through screen. 

Silence stretches. Is this an intimidation tactic? Because if it is, it’s a paltry one. Your conviction to be petty is stronger than any vulnerability you might feel.

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” He admits and fucks right off with that. Fine, go join Sykkuno and Rae in their little corner of betrayal! Friendship ended with Corpse, now Charlie is your best friend.

“Okay, guys, guys, guys-” Toast, noting this is going to spiral any minute now, tries to catch their attention, “Let’s start?!”

You look into your camera, and the roaches know what you’re thinking. You’re twins like that, communicating telepathically. You are taking back your tender promise of not being a conniving bastard. It’s fucking on. You will destroy everyone in your path, starting with the guy you have a stupid crush on - maybe?! Feelings are confusing, you’d rather just not think point blank period.

With no objections from the cast, the counter ticks away seconds and, for the first round, you’re stuck as CREW MATE.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Charlie is a gift. Truly, you had not expected such a sudden, wonderful relationship to bloom. How have you not known of him sooner?! It’s a crime that you hadn’t spoken to him earlier. You are a 100% certain if you had found him before you started streaming, he would’ve been a big inspiration. 

The two of you do your silly little tasks and curse like sailors, commenting about this and that thanks to proximity chat. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the claustrophobic silence if it was just a normal Among Us game - to think, missing out on all his foully worded quips! It almost springs a tear into your eye. He’s just as unhinged as you.

worried about this dynamic 

its a trainwreck lol i love it plz collab more plz

Caught in a headed discussion in Electrical - TikTok trends, or audios specifically - you defend the app the best you can. Charlie thinks it’s super cringe, and you insist it’s part of the charm as you connect wires.

“I mean, have...-do you know that one audio, the one that goes, like,” You’re spilling your words, heated, frustrated that he’s so dismissive of the app that literally saved 2020, “it goes like, uhm,” You clear your throat, prep your voice - even take a sip of your favorite drink. Drawing the syllables, you try your best to make it drop an octave - it must sound like you’re doing an atrociously bad and nauseatingly scratchy Corpse impression with an extra dramatic flair, “My assssssss, your cockkk, you do the mathhh.”

“Did-Did I just-” You freeze hearing Corpse’s voice, finally done with your task. Charlie is muffling his laughter behind his palm; Corpse’s astronaut stands in the doorway, “What the fuck did I just walk into?” He seems genuinely confused, though a strangely winded. You’re mortified. Your shoulders are shaking. You look at the stream chat but it’s going too fast for you to follow. Manic laughter bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth split into a toothy grin, lowering your head and trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hey? Guys? What the fuck are you talking about?” He questions again.

“Honestly?” Charlie chimes, “No fucking clue. TikTok, I think. Ask Y/n.”

You can’t reply. You’re crying. You cover your face with your palms, muttering a soft oh my god before bursting into a full blow laugh, throwing your head back, the motion accidentally knocking your headphones off.

“Y/n.” Corpse calls you, “Fuck was that?”

You’re howling. Your stomach hurts. There are literal tears in your eyes. You think Charlie might be laughing too, but you can’t really tell over your loud screeching. Hastily fixing your headphones, you wipe away the tears stuck to your lower lashes, heaving, “S-Sorry, I-” You stutter, breaking into another fit of giggles. Corpse patiently waits you to calm down. Catching your breath, you start again with a sniffle, “TikTok, yeah.” You idly fix your hair, trying to bite down a smile, “It’s an audio.”

“What- What kind of videos are you watching?”

“The good kind.” Your reply is instant, merciless, “Also, why are you here? We’re having a BDA meeting, you know.”

“I-I...” He trails off, “I...I heard people talking and...I just came here to check it out, but...I’m regretting it.” There’s a lilt in his voice, and you know he doesn’t regret jack shit. You bet he’s smiling. You wish you could see it.

“Bitch, then leave!” You huff. You aren’t sure what is with him today, and you don’t want to stick around and find out - his playfulness makes your stomach flip at the most inappropriate times! Like when you’re trying to sound threatening. You must retreat posthaste, “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.” You say, brushing past his character. Charlie follows after you.

“Dude, you’re so fucking lucky neither of us are the Impostor because you’d be deader than I’ve been feeling since I was 10.” Your favorite companion comments. Charlie is truly a modern wordsmith. You’re pretty sure you adore him, because you’re nodding your head, so quick to agree with him that even you’re surprised. 

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

A meeting is called. You spare a glance at your fallen crew mates. They will be missed. Sean most of all, God, why does heaven always take the good ones?! The game feels emptier without him, even if you really only passed him once on your trek to Cafeteria with Charlie.

You may or may not have been avoiding him, afraid you’d accidentally say something horrible and he would hate you. It’s a silly fear, though a deep one. And with Charlie keeping you company, you had not uttered a single objectively  good, or even coherent, sentence. Your parents can’t watch this stream once it’s uploaded onto your Youtube channel. They know you’re barely keeping it together in most of your videos, but here, now? Yeah, no. Charlie is already hard to listen to on his own for sensitive viewers, and hearing you agree with literally everything he says with your own chaotic ideas? Your dad would stumble into an early grave.

Mom probably wouldn’t mind too much, but you’d have to explain your relationship status again. She is under the assumption that everyone you collab with is your significant other. You’d say it began with Sykkuno, though the exclamation of “Finally! My daughter isn’t pathetically single! We need to celebrate.” had started with Rae. Truly, a scandal.

Speaking of which, Sykkuno is gone, too, but you had time to mourn him already. You found his body roughly ten minutes ago; so torn with the fresh agony of heartbreak, you could not do anything else but cry. It was Charlie, bless his heart, that reported it.

“Someone killed Jack,” You say, voice dripping with venom, “court is now in session. I’m ready to vote the fucker out.”

People speak all at once. Toast roars over them, “ORDER! ODER IN COURT!” as he slams his hand onto his desk repeatedly. That seems to work, though briefly.

“I think it’s Y/n.” Corpse says. You stare at him, hand gripping your heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

flame him

corpse boutta be a corpse fr

beat his ass queen!!!!!

“Pardon my french,” You grumble, “but nani the fuck?!”

“It’s definitely Y/n, I found her and Charlie conspiring in Electrical. Surrealist experience of my fucking life, but it’s definitely her.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this,” Charlie sighs, shushing Rae who was about to comment something - knowing your luck, it was probably in favor of the man throwing you under the bus, “we would’ve snapped your fucking neck the moment you walked in. But we didn’t.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” Corpse notes, “I said nothing about you, I’m just saying it’s definitely her. She probably didn’t kill in front of you because of your stupid alliance-”

“Someone sounds salty because he wasn’t invited.” Pokimane snickers.

“-or possibly she did tell you and you won’t betray her for the exact same reason.”

“That’s some big brain logic you pulled there, genius,” Charlie says, absolutely unimpressed, “sure you didn’t have an aneurysm trying to connect all of that together?”

“Well,” Rae pipes up, “Y/n and Charlie did say they will kill right before the game started. If you ask me, it’s not unbelievable. And Sykkuno was sorta on the shit list.”

“I’m writing down your name twice, Rachell.” You spit.

“Not helping your case at all, Y/n...” Dream worries, “And Rae makes a good point. Charlie and you have professed desire for murder. I’m just saying! It’s a bit suspicious, you know?”

The next words to leave Corpse’s lips sound incredibly smug, “See?” He drawls.  The pressure is getting to you - you don’t understand where this beguiling talent of his to convince literally everyone comes from, but it doesn’t inspire any confidence. Your fist suddenly feels incredibly lonely, so useless - oh, how you long to swing at him, “It’s definitely Y/n.”

“I dunno...” Toast mumbles.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Corpse-” You try, but he's ignoring you - shocker, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the very start of this stupid game - and chanting your name like it’s a fucking mantra or something, a smile in his voice, knowing, relishing in the fact that he’s grating on your nerves, “FIRST OF ALL,” You scream into the mic, successfully cutting him off; catching your breath, you exhale, and continue, calmly, lowly,  “get my pretty name out of your mouth.” 

There’s a pause full of tense silence. 

Then, there’s a sound, seemingly stuck in the back of his throat, “...O-Oh...?”

“Second of all,” You continue, words like honey dipped in arsenic, “This is the clearest smear campaign I have ever witnessed. By how hard you’re trying to frame me for fuck knows what reason, I’m led to believe it’s you that killed them. You’re the Impostor.”

“Corpse wouldn’t kill Sykkuno, though.” Rae comments, skeptical.

“Then the other Impostor did it.” You counter.

“Maybe you’re both Impostors.” Pokimane chirps.

“Y/n would never betray the Big Dick Alliance like that.” Charlie states.

You grin, “Charlie, I literally love you.” 

“Wait hold up now,” Corpse seems to get his bearings together, “what’s this about love I’m hearing?”

“I have none for you, dick.” You snap, flipping him off. Your chat cheers. While he can’t see it, you hope he senses it through the screen, “I officially hate you.”

“No, wait-”

“Boo, Corpse, you suck.” Toast laughs.

“Y/n, please-”

“Let’s all vote for Corpse Husband, okay?” You say it like it’s his full official name with an encouraging smile and multiple soft nods. Sykkuno can’t be here to nod, so you’ll do it for him. You eye the rapidly decreasing timer before clicking on Corpse’s figure and voting for him. The VOTED icon instantly pops up beside your adorable astronaut.

“Baby, I-” It slips past his lips so easily, as if he’s not even thinking about it, like it’s only natural to call you that and a spike of anxiety shoots up, making you glare. It’s only halfhearted. You try your best to ignore the rapid and uncoordinated pulses of your heart. Replace unwanted feelings with anger and hate - works like a charm, every time.

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You hiss. The chat spams snake emojis. 

“Wait-” Bretman chimes, “Hold up, y’all, slow down a minute. Why does Corpse never call me baby?”

“Yeah!” Pokimane agrees, “I want to be baby, too!”

Pokimane may not have been called baby, but you just single-handedly decided her nickname for her - Target 4. Welcome to the shit list, she is officially your public enemy number 1. You aren’t sure why the thought of Corpse ever referring to anyone else as baby makes you sick to your stomach (you actually do know why, but brain no think at the moment), but you wish this whole conversation never happened. You don’t like it.

20 seconds left. More VOTED icons appear by your friends. Corpse is the last one to cast his ballot at, you assume, you, as the rest wait for his quick explanation before everyone (or not) returns to the game, “...Because she’s my baby.”

Goodbye. Life had been sweet, and there was sorrow, though the amount of embarrassment you feel now is worse than when the internet found your cringe worthy high school pictures on your mom’s Facebook. It’s a mixture of dread and excitement - the pleasure of being noticed, cherished even, though anxious from vulnerability. Someone is screaming a very prolonged “WHAAAAT?!”, or maybe multiple people are, you aren’t sure, your ears start to hurt from the loud, conflicting cacophony of voices as you stare blankly at the screen. You received two votes, just like Corpse, Charlie got one, the rest skipped. With no one flung out, you all find yourself back in Cafeteria again.

Baby. My baby? My baby. My baby. The sentence is playing ping-pong in your mind, reverberating louder each time. You’re actually speechless for the first time in your life; your chest hurts, your heart beating so fast your hands start shaking. Had he meant it? Or was this a some joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of you again? You might just go insane from so many questions. My baby. Holy shit, this is a heart attack, this is what a heart attack feels like, dear God, you figured you at least had ten years before you get one!

  ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

First round ends with IMPOSTORS raining victorious. Your sixth sense had been working wonders since, true to you previous estimate, it had been Corpse. His companion was Pokimane. For absolutely no reason what’s so ever, you change her name once more from Target 4 to Target 1. Normally, you’re all for girls supporting girls. Men don’t deserve anything, really, but now you’re so flustered and still reeling from what you are 80% sure was cardiac arrest that you genuinely don’t care about your established morals.

Round two starts without much deliberation. You get CREW MATE again; the game must sense your growing bloodlust, making sure that once you do get IMPOSTOR, you will not hold back. True power is granted to those who are ready and strong enough to wield it. You wait for your moment with bated breath.

Charlie is taken from you too early. The two of you were once again caught in a discussion - God knows about what, Minecraft, hentai, oh! your server! - as you tried to card swipe for the umpteenth time. The lights blew out and you just knew one of you was getting murdered there and then. Charlie’s voice abruptly cut off, and you think a part of you died with him.

It’s a cold meeting; with your new best friend being the first to go, everyone decides to skip. You proclaim you seek vengeance. When the meeting comes to an end, Sykkuno is the first to offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, and while he’s not in Brooklyn, you somehow feel him patting your back. You feign a sniffle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for...” You murmur sadly, “Unless...” Your voice turns sharp as the knife that was surely twisted into Charlie’s back, “It was you?”

“NO!” He exclaims, “I would never-you gotta believe me! I would never kill him. I know he’s important to you. I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”

“He was like a brother to me.” You admit, solemn, “Charlie, if you’re haunting me right now, know I will avenge you. I will not let this go.”

Sykkuno hums, circling around you, “Hey, I have a task in Greenhouse. Would you, uh--Would like to, uhm, join me?” Despite the shaky start, he finishes on a firm, pleasant note. He’s trying to cheer you up. Having lost your closest friend, he’s offering you his company. You accept with a soft smile and a cute “Yes, please!” and he releases an airy little laugh. The two of you make your way to your favorite place in map MIRA.

It’s difficult to stay sad for long when Sykkuno’s so sweet; the atmosphere of the Greenhouse is strangely calming; your problems seem to be left behind the shut doors. If you tried hard enough, you could imagine being in an actual Greenhouse - the warm, damp air clinging to your skin, the unmistakable smell of earth and vegetation, the pleasant silence broken only by yours and his hushed voices and clumsy footsteps.

The two of you are talking. Mainly about your choice of attire. Cat first, Sykkuno ponders aloud, doing his task as you watch the plants grow, now bunny, what’s next? You affirm that you will most likely dress up in cow-print next, or as an adorable sheep. He laughs, admitting you’ll look good in anything before he trails off. His awkwardness is really endearing. 

“Or!” You chirp happily, content with being locked away with him for the whole game. The idea must be playing in his mind, too, because he seems in no rush to leave, “I could, like, dress as someone from My Hero Academia. I watched the stream you did with Stella, the one where she made you look like Todoroki. It was really cute. You were really cute.”

“Oh, uhm-well, uh, thank you, thanks, I, uhm-” He clears his throat, and despite his stutter, you hear the smile in his voice, “I-I think you’d look better, though. Not as Todoroki. Or, probably as Todoroki, too. But, uhm, what character are you thinking about?”

“Maybe Momo?”

“Momo!” He yeps, “Momo is good. Yeah, she’s great. You’ll-uhm-you’ll look amazing. Really. Momo is awesome. Very pretty. Just like you.”

You are blushing. A stupid, toothy grin makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes flicker to the chat, but again, it’s going wild. Giggling, you thank him for his sweet words, so giddy it’s honestly embarrassing. Why can’t you stop smiling? This is incriminating. You hide your lips behind your palm.

“...What’s this?” Corpse question. You had failed to note his sudden appearance, too busy gushing. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets. For someone so awkward and shy, he sure is good at hiding it when he wants to. Perhaps it’s all an act and you had been deviously tricked! Probably not, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously, finally able to calm down. You definitely underestimated him, you just haven’t figured out how yet, “Not really! Y/n was sad Charlie died so I took her here.”

“You interrupted our date, dipshit.” You deadpan. 

“...Fuck you say?” Corpse dares, his voice low and somewhat menacing - for someone who exclusively portrays his emotions through only his voice, he’s incredibly hard to read. This is payback. Your love for wreaking havoc resurfaces suddenly. Serves him right for pulling all this ignoring shit at the start. Maybe you’ll make him say oh again.

Your sly smirk is promptly wiped. Fuck. He said oh, he literally said oh out loud. The Teruhashi fangirl in you is screaming. You had been so caught up in defending yourself you didn’t even register it at first. Alarmed, you look at the camera, then at the chat. First oh, then my baby. There’s no way he had been teasing you, and this proves it. Holy shit. You mouth the words “HE SAID OH!” for your audience only.

now she notices

snail pace baby we’ve been loosing our shit for the past hour 

corpse x y/n saikik au enemies to lovers 500k words slow burn im here for it

opening wattpad rn^

Your heart races in your chest - it might be considered an Olympic medalist at this point; flustered yet again, you wish you could cave into yourself. You should’ve brought your bright blue wig with you to Brooklyn. Turns out it would have been perfect for this stream. Yes, yes thinking about unnecessary details always works in distracting you from the butterflies throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. 

“I guess it is a date!” Sykkuno admits, “Kinda after a funeral, but still.”

Corpse hums. You’re still too stunned to say anything. The black astronaut with adorable cat ears approaches Sykkuno. 

“It’s not.” He states. Your mouth falls open in shock as your date, your companion, the Shoto to your Momo is murdered in cold blood right in front of you. His lifeless body, cut in half, lays on the tiles by the growing flowers, right beside you, “You didn’t see shit.”

“...I didn’t see shit.” Is all you can utter, breathless and terrified.

“Thaaaat’s fucking right, baby.” Corpse coos, “Now I’m gonna report it, and I’ll say we found Sykkuno together. Better stick close to me after the meeting, got it?”

If Sykkuno is Shoto, then Corpse is definitely Dabi. 

why is that kinda hot tho omg

didn’t know i needed dom corpse since now but i do

y/n looks like shes boutta throw up lmao 

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You follow him around like a lost puppy - because what else is left for you to do!? You’re helpless in this situation. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, successfully eliminating everyone you had previously interacted with. First it was Charlie, then Sykkuno, even Sean, who said hello in passing, was shot instantly. Real Sangwoo behavior. You almost want to scream warnings at everyone to not approach you. You cannot mourn another lost crew mate, you don’t think your conscience can take it. But words fail to form. You’re too weak. You fake cry to your audience. They’re quick to remind you to stop acting like a little bitch.

“Mean.” Is all you say, eyeing the comments.

“Hm?”

“Was talking to the roaches.”

“What are they saying?”

“That I should betray you.”

“...Better not.”

A shiver shoots up your spine and you half believe he will bust down your door and drag you into his basement for real. A nervous laugh slips past your lips, “I won’t, I won’t.” You reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. I haven’t seen shit.”

“I like that you listen to me. You always this agreeable?”

“You’re kinda not giving me a choice right now.” You grumble, vending yourself a drink while he looms behind you, protecting you. From who?! Himself?!

“Oh my fucking God, finally,” Bretman exclaims, “girl, I’ve been running around the whole map trynna find someone, is everyone like, dead?”

You’re scared to reply. Corpse does it for you, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, maybe? Not sure. Where have you been?”

“Oh you know,” Bretman grins, “doing tasks, talking shit, the usual. You two are not, like, Impostors right?”

You shoot a look at Corpse, but he obviously can’t see it. Biting your lip, you murmur, “Nope.”

“Just your regular crew mates doing regular crew mate things.” Corpse says, no, purrs. Because that’s not suspicious at all. You’d recommend Bretman to run, and not only because that sounded shady as fuck. But he seems to enjoy danger, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hmmmm, crew mates, sure. Miss girl Y/n,” He’s addressing you now; you smile anxiously, “How come every time I see you, you’re with a different man?! Like damn, leave some for the rest of us, for real!”

You like Bretman. You like his high-pitched whine and drawl. You would like him even more if not for the complex situation at hand. You fear for his life. Chewing at your bottom lip, you snicker, “Sorry, Bret. I can leave you Corpse if you want?”

He laughs, “Girl, I’d say yes so fucking quick, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Normally I wouldn’t care, but y’all are such a cute couple it’s making me not want to be a shady motherfucking bitch. Changing my ways, embracing the lord. Love it.”

 Corpse doesn’t correct him that you are, in fact, not dating. His lack of reaction unnerves you slightly. Does he...? No! No think! Only exist! You catch that train of thought and steer it away from forbidden territory. Looks like it’s up to you to clear the air, and that is exactly what you do after trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Uh, we’re not together, actually. We’re just really good friends.”

“Bitch, then move over,” Bretman says snappily,”go like, back to your other boyfriends. Or find another one. I think I saw Dream near Navigation.”

“Near Navigation, huh?” Corpse hums thoughtfully. It’s a subtle warning, but you catch it. Yeah, even if you try running, Dream’s going to join your other ‘boyfriends’ in the afterlife. Granted, killing someone by just talking with them is kind of cool. Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome is finally kicking in, “Bret, the thing is, Y/n’s scared of dying, so she asked me to stay with her.”

It’s disturbing how good at lying he is. It is also really really attractive, as bizarre as that is.

y/n stop being in a toxic relationship with corpse challenge

making fanart of this omg her face

its the blushing for me girl get your head outta the gutter!

^she cant, it lives there

“Baby, you’re gonna fucking die if you stick with her,” Bretman points out, “have you noticed the mortality rate of her partners? Rest in peace, daddy.”

“He’s right, you know.” You mutter, dramatically looking to the side, “I’m no good, Corpse.”

“Not leaving you, end of discussion. Bretman, join us?” Corpse offers, catching you by surprise. He might still be lying, though. Creating a false sense of security before eliminating Bretman. Probably would laugh while doing it, too. Wow, he truly is evil.

Turns out he doesn’t have to do any of that, because when Dream strolls into Cafeteria, he kills Bretman instead. The two Impostors are finally revealed. You promised not to snitch on Corpse, but you didn’t say shit about not exposing Dream. You press the REPORT button and say just that: “Dream just murdered Bret right in front of me and Corpse.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The last meeting is called. Dream had been voted out with the help of Corpse, and now only you, he, and Rae remain.

“Baby, you know what to do.”

The VOTED icon pops up beside Corpse’s astronaut. Rae wheezes, “No! Y/n, it’s not me, you gotta believe me, I swear it’s not me!”

“...I really don’t know,” You murmur, “I’ve been with Corpse a lot, and...Rae, I’m not sure...”

“Please! I swear it on my Kagayama cardboard cut out, I’m not the Impostor, please! You know me, I’d never lie to you like this.”

“She’s definitely lying.” Corpse says, sounding pleased.

“Don’t listen to him! Remember, during the first round, when he tried to convince us that you were the Impostor? He’s doing the same shit to me!”

“I also remember you agreeing with him.” You remind her.

“I was stupid! Small dumb brain moment! He was using us to win! He’s using you right now!” She votes, “Please, Y/n, make the right choice.”

You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna vote for who I think it is.” You lastly say.

A slow, lazy grin makes it’s way onto your lips, eyes gleaming mischievously. You had not forgotten your promise to your brother from another mother, you had not forgotten the pride of the BDA, you had not forgotten your beautiful friendship. Two miniature astronauts pop up by Corpse’s at the exact moment Rae screeches “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

“Fuck.” Is all Corpse says with a laugh.

The screen changes, informing of the first CREW MATE victory.

Your ears are assaulted with different voices as you appear in the lobby.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Charlie raves, “I swear to fucking God, Y/n, you even got me going for a second. Pulled some 1000 IQ shit right there. It was fucking amazing. Best back stabbing I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve seen a lot.”

“That was absolutely fantastic, Y/n.” Sean applauds, “I really thought you joined Corpse like some crew mate accomplice or something. Can’t believe you switched on him at the last second.”

“That’s my wifey!” Rae cheers, strolling to you, “Love you, mwah.”

“Hey, Corpse,” Charlie calls him, “How does it feel to be a fucking loser?”

“I’m surprisingly fine with it.”

yeah he would be lmao

mom is the best snake ever i love you sm y/n

rae and y/n’s friendship....the feeeeeels

As the rest sing your praises for another solid minute or two, the third round begins. CREW MATE again. Though, just because you’re stuck as an underpaid worker in a dying spaceship, it doesn’t mean you’re innocent. Your last round proved that quite well. You can’t help but silently snicker.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[gayfanservice]

Heyy! I would like to request something if thats fine.

(It is late for me at the moment so sorry in advance if there are some spelling errors or if some parts don't make sense, I'm practically asleep haha)

So I would like to request a Atsumu x male reader if thats fine.

So the plot goes like this: atsumu and y/n have been friends since they were babies as their parents have been best friends so it made sense for them to be friends too. At a young as atsumu so really into volleyball and played every chance he could, he would of course ask y/n at play but most times y/n would decline the offer as volleyball or any sports wasnt his thing. Y/n liked calming things like Gaming, cooking/baking. Things that didnt involve lots of moving. At sum u being the kid he is would complain to y/n that he didnt play volleyball with him and would sulk for ages until y/n would finally agree.

Years pass by and they were still friends, maybe even closwr. Atsumu now plays for the school's team. He tried to convince y/n to join too as by saying "oh come on!! You should join already, you so good at it" and things like that.

But it really did annoy atsumu. The two where at y/n's home talking. Y/n stated that he wanted to go to a culinary school in the future. He showed atsumu a cake he took hours to make, he was proud of himself so of course he showed Atsumu. Atsumu told him how that was a stupid idea and how y/n should just stop being so 'lazy' and 'boring'. Out of frustration, Atsumu smashed the cake y/n had made. It made y/n distraught and scared in a way of the sudden action from Atsumu. The two argued until y/n said his final words in the argument "I can't even believe I ever liked a selfish guy like you..! Let alone love you.." Tears streamed from y/n's eyes. Atumu stood there in shock from the words just said. Atsumu had always had feelings for y/n. He thought that they would be even closer of he made y/n join volleyball with him. Atsumu engulfed y/n in a hug and began crying himself. He explained his reasoning behind him lashing out. Without thinking Atsumu kissed y/n. It was a short kiss, but it was filled with so much love and emotion that caused then to want it more (not in a sexual way). Atsumu asked/mostly begged for y/n's forgiveness and of course y/n soon accepted the apology.

I dont know too much about Atsumu so he’s probably a little ooc! (Also, you, dear anon, first ever requester, thank you)

Angst-ish with a happy ending?

*********

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Playing on your Gameboy, you could hear Atsumu yell at you throughout the house. You groaned. The door to your bedroom opened as Atsumu ran in, immediately having a pillow thrown at him. “Knock!” “But ya’ know me! I shouldn’t have ta’ knock!” Picking up another pillow while glaring at Atsumu, he huffed (it was a disguise. He was terrified of your glare, and insane aim accuracy) before walking out and closed the door. A second went by and you heard a knock. Sighing, you told him told him to come in. He opened the door, completely forgetting what he was mad about earlier and asked that god awful question you hated.

“Come play with me!” “No.” He pouted, “Ya’ always say that!” “I agreed yesterday.” You concentrated on catching a caterpie, “C’mon! I’ll, uh,” he paused, “I’ll buy you Pokémon!” You stared at him before sighing. “You’re 11, you can’t buy anything.” He whined as you went back to your Gameboy, “Please! Please! Please! Please!” God he never quits, you never understood why he didn’t get Osamu, he was better (and actually tried) at it than you. “Why can’t you get Osamu? He’s better than me.” He stopped complaining and looked at you before jumping on your bed, shaking you back and forth, “It’s not the same! Come on! Pleeaase?” You agreed, just to get him to shut up.

——————

“(Y/N)!” ‘God damnit all.’ You thought as you felt the body of your best friend crash into you, “Ye’re finally joining?!” You could hear Osamu swearing to kill his brother. “No.” You were still blunt as ever, only at the gym so early in the morning because Atsumu forgot his lunch bag at your house. He whined, “But whyyyyy?” Before you could reply Osamu came upon to you two. “Hey, dumbass! Leave ‘im alone! We’re supposed ta’ be practicing!” Gripping the back of Atsumu’s shirt and pulling him away from you, Osamu pulled the whining teenager back to the court. You looked at Ojiro and waved, he waved back. You two were barely friends, only knowing each other because of the twins, but he was cool so you didn’t care.

You put Atsumu’s bag on the bench and left for class, hoping you could catch a nap.

——————

“(Y/N)?” Your head was on your desk still, “Atsumu I swear to god I’m not playing volleyball with you.” You heard a huff, “I’m Osamu, also it’s lunch time.” You shot out of your seat and looked at the clock, seeing it was indeed lunch. “Fuuuuck.” Your teacher was not happy. Walking towards the cafeteria with Osamu, you talked about all the different recipes of Onigiri there was and what your favorite type is. Coming to the cafeteria doors you held it open for Osamu, walking in after him and immediately seeing Atsumu waving at you, Ojiro beside him. Sitting in front of him (with Osamu in front of Ojiro) you opened your bento, eating whatever you made. “Mm, (Y/N), so nice of ya’ to make me lunch!”

“Shut the fuck up and don’t talk with food in yer mouth.” As much as Atsumu complementing your cooking made you happy, seeing him talk with a mouth full would undoubtedly make your appetite go south for the day. “Damn (Y/N), why’d ya’ have ta’ go and make ‘im lunch?” “‘Cause I’m nice.” You stated, taking a bite of Onigiri, “And so he owes me.” “(Y/N)!” Osamu and Ojiro laughed at Atsumu’s demise while you just blankly stared at him while eating. “Hey, (Y/N).” “No.” “Oh, c’mon! I didn’t even say anything!” You glared at him, he looked down at the lunch you had the curtesy to make for him. “But ye’re so good! C’mon, Osamu, tell ‘im how good he is!”

You looked at him with a ‘don’t you fucking dare’ face, “Atsumu does have a point.” He shrugged at the end of his sentence, picking at his food with his chopsticks. You looked at him before looking at Atsumu, then looking down at your bento. “Ojiro’s my new best friend.” “WHAT!?”

——————

“(Y/N)!” You were playing on the PlayStation 1 in your living room, “Who the fuck let you in?” Not looking away from whatever you were playing, Atsumu sat down beside you. “Me, of course!” “Atsumu I’m not playing volleyball.” This was a weekly occurrence. Atsumu some how gets in your house, he begs for you to play volleyball with him, you say no, he still begs, you get tired and agree. God you hated him and his stamina. “But (Y/N)!” He stretched out your name, “Atsumu, no. I’m busy.” He crossed his arms over his chest, annoyed that you, yet again, refused to play with him. “Actually, I have something I want to show you.” He perked up before you still didn’t agree to play.

Flopping back on the couch, arms still crossed and still acting like a baby, he watched you get up and go to the kitchen. He watched as you open the fridge and took out a beautiful cake. “I’m thinking of going to culinary school, but baking seems more, uh, tasteful?” You set the cake on the table, Atsumu walking up to it. “I wanted your opinion on it.” Looking at you, Atsumu couldn’t believe how you’d want to go to such a boring school, have such a boring job. “Baking is boring, and it’s a lazy job. It’s a stupid idea really.” “It’s not boring, and it’s not stupid.” You weren’t one to get mad often, sure you act mad with the twins (Atsumu) but you were easily the chillest person alive, but Atsumu was really pushing it.

“It really is. There’s no fun in standing in a kitchen all day.” “Wow, fuck you too, I guess.” You crossed your arms, ready to call Osamu to get his brother. “I’m just saying! You should come to volleyball! It’s more fun!” “Atsumu for the love of god, I fucking HATE volleyball!” Atsumu stared at you, processing what you said. Hate volleyball? Impossible. No one likes baking more than volleyball! It’s just a excuse for being lazy. “But ye’re so good! Why don’t you just go pro with me instead doing stupid, whatever this is!” He raised his hands, hitting the table out of frustration. The cake fell, getting red, white, and some blue frosting all over the floor. You both stared at it, wide eyed.

“What… what the fuck?” You could feel the tears building up in your eyes. “I spent… so long on that.” “I-I didn’t mean too! I just wanted you to play join volleyball and play with me! And-and-” “What about me?! What about what I want? Huh? Do you even care about me?” The tears were falling and Atsumu had tears of his own, “I can’t believe I ever liked someone so selfish!” You wiped your tears, “You selfish fucking bastard!” He stood still, before stepping over the smooshed cake and hugged you. You squirmed, “I just thought if ya’ joined the team, we would be closer. I thought we could be a team, y’know?” His voiced crack.

He could feel you stop and wrap your arms around him. “I just, I just didn’t want ya’ to leave me. I want you with me, and it would be hard if we had different jobs.” You could feel your shoulder get wet with his tears, “I’m so, so sorry, (Y/N). Please, I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you.” You both stayed like that for awhile. Sure, you were still pissed that he smashed your cake, but you really needed this hug. He pulled back kissed the side of your mouth before looking in your eyes, silently asking for permission. You leaned in, kissing him. It was short, but you both could feel the love the other felt. Atsumu put his head on your shoulder, “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). Could you forgive me?” His voice was strained from the crying.

“Only if you accept Osamu is the better twin,” He pulled back, looking at you with bewilderment in his eyes. You laughed at your own joke, “I’m just kidding,” he relaxed, putting his head on your shoulder again. “Tuggin’ at my strings,” You both chuckled. “You’re cleaning this up, though. And I’m not helping.” “That’s fair.”

*********

I have got to stop making these so long. And remember kids, baking is not lame.

Also sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted

Read the rules before you follow

[looooooooomis]

F I N A L  G I R L  |  T H R E E

You were his final girl.  And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.

p a r t   t h r e e  |  j e a l o u s y

masterlist here

pairing: Billy Loomis x f!reader word count: 4.3k warnings: angst tbh. and not the healthiest relationship but ya know what it’s billy so we persevere, unwanted advances, more angst x

I had a request for a jealous billy, so I hope you like my take on it x

That was the third time in the last thirty minutes that Steve Shit-For-Brains Orth touched you. Three fucking times. The first two times he was willing to look past but the third? Fuck no. The asshole, who was sitting with his clunky arm on the back of your chair, had not-so-casually rubbed his thumb along your spine, inciting a rather surprised look from you and a rather murderous one from Billy.

Of course, Steve couldn’t see the rage practically oozing from Billy, but boy was it there. Especially when you went out of your way to lean further into your desk as though to avoid his grabby little hands.

But that didn’t stop Steve.

Billy could see the frustration on your face as you fought to keep your cool in front of your classmates as his hand dipped beneath the desk to give your thigh a firm squeeze.

The same thighs that Billy’s face had been buried in just this morning.

All Billy saw was red as you pushed Steve’s hand away, muttering something to him under your breath before raising your hand to excuse yourself. With an anger so palpable radiating from his every pore, Billy watched you leave the classroom and thought of the various ways he could kill that fucker before you returned.

“Billy,” the girl, Sam, he’d been paired up with groused, “are you even paying attention?”

“No,” he simply said, barely hearing her above the sound of his own blood coursing to his ears. “Sorry.”

He wasn’t sorry, of course, only irate. The vein in his neck pulsed against his skin as his blood pressure skyrocketed. This was the type of thing that drove him to the brink of insanity when it came to having to keep the two of you a secret for the sake of his plan. It was bad enough that he couldn’t parade you around like he wanted to, even worse that he knew, deep down, that your little arrangement hurt you beyond belief – but this? Watching you get pawed by these dickheads all the while he was forced to take a backseat?

He couldn’t stomach it.

His knuckles were white from the grip he had on his pencil but even as he felt it splinter off into his palm, his grip never waned. Not for a second. It was either that or kill Steve Orth and, while that sounded great, he couldn’t. Not yet, at least.

Just as the pressure of the pencil in his hand got to be too much, you waltzed back into the room with your head held high, seemingly unfazed by the naked eye – but Billy saw right through it. He knew you, more than either of you would like to admit, and he could see the irritation as clear as day in those gorgeous eyes of yours as Steve smirked playfully up at you from where he sat.

Subtly, you gave Billy a gentle nod, silently talking him down from doing anything stupid in the middle of the classroom, before taking your seat yet again.

Thankfully, Steve managed to keep his hands off of you for the remainder of the class but, unbeknownst to both you and Steve, that assholes fate had been sealed. Billy might not have been able to do anything to him yet, but he would. And he was going to enjoy every second of it.

The bell eventually rang out and Billy, wasting no time at all, pushed himself off of his desk and walked up beside you. “You okay?” He asked, but his eyes were trained on Steve who was much too busy high-fiving one of his friends to notice Billy’s murderous stare.

“I’m fine, Billy,” you laughed, “he’s an idiot, but he’s a harmless idiot.”

“Harmless?” Billy’s voice was low and impressively tame considering the fact that beneath it all, his blood was boiling. “He has no right to touch you.”

Glancing over your shoulder you smiled at one of the other cheerleaders before looking back at Billy. “I appreciate the concern, Billy, but I’m fine.”

That casual tone of yours just about killed him every single time. It was a punch to the gut compared the woman he had all to himself behind closed doors. This version of you, this censored version, was just a part of the charade, he knew that much, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

The rest of your classmates slowly filtered out of the room, eventually leaving you and Billy alone as you tossed your notebook into your bag. That weighty stare of his was ever present, but you pretended not to notice in fear of someone walking in. Billy Loomis was a lot of things, but subtle, he was not.

At least where you were concerned.

“That’s bullshit,” he seethed, “someone ought to show that fucker he can’t just go around touching what isn’t his. He—”

“What isn’t his?” A bitter laugh tumbled out of your lips. “I’m not a piece of fucking meat, Billy. I’m not his, sure, but I’m not yours, either.”

You watched the muscle in Billy’s jaw clench and that vein in his neck that always seemed to swell whilst he was under pressure visibly strained and pulsed before your very eyes. “I didn’t say you were,” he muttered, “I just meant that he needs to learn some respect.”

“He does,” you agreed, “but that’s not your job to teach him.”

Leaning against the desk, he ran a hand through his hair and glowered across at you. “I could tell it bothered you, so why the hell are you defending him?”

You rolled your eyes and swung your bag over your shoulder. “I’m not defending him, Billy. Steve’s an asshole, we all know this, but I don’t want you to get in shit thinking it’s your job to defend me. I can look after myself, Billy. I promise.” With another futile glance towards the door, you reached forward and gently ran your thumbnail against his bottom lip. “Besides, you’re too cute for a fistfight.”

Upon dropping your hand back down at your side, Billy caught it and gave it a squeeze. “I can’t help it if I get heated about all these assholes. Look at you.”

“You can help it, actually,” you laughed. “Don’t engage, first off. And, secondly,” you leaned in a little closer so that your lips were dangerously close to his ear, “try to remember who it is I’m fucking at the end of the day, hmm?” You pulled away and offered him a quick wink before walking out of the classroom. “See you at lunch, Loomis.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

“All I’m saying is that if he didn’t want me giving sage advice to those renting a fucking movie, then why hire me in the first place?” Randy asked with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

You, Tatum, Sid and Randy were all outside eating at the fountain whilst waiting for the other two idiots to join. Pushing your sunglasses further up your nose you smirked across at Randy. “Randy, you told the guy not to rent the movie. Your job is to make people want to watch these movies.” You popped a carrot into your mouth. “How you’re still employed is truly a mystery.”

“That’s the thing,” he laughed, “he fired me!”

“Shocking,” Sid chuckled, “what did you say when he fired you?”

Randy stole a celery stick out of your Tupperware container and bit down. “Nothing, I kept working. Fire me? Not on my watch. No thanks.”

With a shake of your head, you stretched out your legs on the concrete slab of the fountain and found Stu bounding towards you with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Did you guys hear?” He asked, swooping down to kiss Tatum’s cheek. “Our man, Billy, snapped.”

You froze mid-bite and immediately looked at Sid who had sat up looking concerned as ever. “What?” She asked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Billy and Steve, man,” Stu laughed and snatched a carrot stick from your stash. “The two of them got into it during one coach’s drills and Billy just,” he bawled his hand into a fist and slapped it against his other hand. A resounding smack echoed out around you. “Clobbered him, man. It was awesome!”

With your appetite long gone, you slowly swung your legs back onto the ground and pinched your brow. You were raging. Not only had the idiot ignored you by engaging with Steve, but he’d gone ahead and fought him, too.

“What?” Sidney croaked. “W-Why would he do that? He’s never been the type to just fight someone like that. Did Steve do something to provoke him?”

You chewed on your lip and stared ahead as Stu merely shrugged. “Don’t think so,” he stole another carrot and grinned at something in the distance. “Ask him yourself, here he comes.”

Your blood was boiling beneath your skin as you watched Billy casually waltz over to your group as though he wasn’t wielding one hell of a fucking bruise on his cheek, accentuated perfectly with a small, clean slice along his cheekbone that would almost surely scar. The fucking moron.

“Billy!” Sid gasped, jumping up to tend to her boyfriend’s injuries.

You, on the other hand, forever the other woman, remained dutifully planted on the edge of the fountain. Not that you would have tended to him in any way, shape, or form in that instance. In fact, you weren’t sure you could trust yourself not to add to the mess on his face.  

“I’m fine,” he muttered, giving her hand a quick kiss as she gently observed his cheek. “Things just got heated on the field, is all.”

“You should see the other guy,” Stu beamed, “I hear Steve lost a tooth!”

Your anger swelled, momentarily blinding you as the rest of your friends laughed and asked for a play-by-play of events. Not quite trusting yourself, you pushed yourself up from the edge of the fountain wall and grabbed your bag. “I’ll see you guys later,” you hummed, not looking up at the bruised idiot in fear or snarling at him.

“You don’t want to stay for story time?” Stu asked, looking between you and Billy in amusement.

“Can’t.” Smacking on what you only hoped was a convincing smile, you shook your head and gestured to the school. “Forgot I had a meeting with Miss Wills about getting my biology grade up.”

Just before you turned on your heel to head back into the school, you just managed to catch Billy’s eye as he dutifully sat beside Sidney. She was leaning into him, gently prodding the scar along his cheek with a concerned frown marring her pretty face. He, on the other hand, was staring evocatively across at you with a small frown of his own.

Clearing your throat, you waved them off rather quickly before heading back inside of the school. You were too angry to care about how you felt the weight of his stare all over you before finally disappearing from sight.

»»-------------¤-------------««

You locked your bedroom door that night and closed your curtains to avoid rolling over and seeing the idiot that was currently plaguing your every thought staring back at you from the second story of your house. In fact, that was what you did for the next three nights all the while managing to avoid Billy Loomis as much as humanly possible whilst at school.

So far, he had tried on four separate occurrences to get you alone. Whether it was subtly nodding towards an empty classroom with the gang around or lingering by your desk after English in hopes of pinning you down for a chat, it was obvious that Billy was desperate to talk with you. To smooth things over. To move on from this rather ugly display of jealousy.

But you weren’t. And, honestly, you weren’t sure if you were going to be any time soon, if at all.

A small dose of jealousy was only normal every once in a while. Not healthy, by any means, but a normal part of any relationship. Only this relationship you and Billy had was anything but normal. He had a girlfriend. A lovely, kind girlfriend who would have given him the world three times over if he asked. So just how Billy was the one with the audacity to be jealous made no sense.

Whenever you thought about it, you got mad. The injustice of it all was truly something you couldn’t wrap your head around. Just how Billy Loomis, the one with a girlfriend, could get jealous of a guy you were barely even acquaintances with really threw you for a loop. And yet you, the asshole who had somehow fallen in love with him, had to quietly take a seat and watch him dote over another girl in public.

Dote over your best friend.

Oh, the irony was delicious.

Tossing the book you’d been reading aside, you let out a quiet groan and closed your eyes as you heard the familiar jiggle of your window. It, like it had been for days, was still locked, thankfully, and your curtains still drawn in fear of seeing him.

The commotion tonight, was brief. He only tried for a second or two before you heard him meander his way back down to ground level. With an annoyed sigh, you reached for your book only to stop dead in your tracks when your doorbell rang out through your whole house.

Shooting up from your bed, you immediately lunged for the door and held your ear to it as your mother quietly complained about just who it could possibly be at this hour of the night.

Please be anyone else, please be anyone else, please be—”

“Oh, Billy,” your mother gushed. She’d always liked Billy. The traitor. “It’s awful late, is everything okay?”

Furling your brow, you pressed your ear further into your door and heard Billy’s deep voice say something – something probably charming – before your mother’s voice called up to you.

“Y/N, sweetie,” she beckoned, “Billy Loomis is here.”

You opened and shut your mouth several times over as you thought of your next few words. Somehow swearing at him from where you stood didn’t seem like the best idea with your parents in the house so, instead, you opted for the next best option.

You said nothing.

Holding your breath, you stood at the head of your room in nothing more than your flannel sleep shorts and tank top while hoping beyond hope that Billy would be ushered out of your house.

“I’m afraid she might be sleeping, dear,” your mother sympathetically cooed, “was there something you needed?”

Pressing your ear tighter to the wood, you barely made out the words ‘book’ and ‘homework’ before another sympathetic cluck escaped your mom’s lips. “And it’s due tomorrow?”

Bastard.

You panicked. His ploy was obviously to come up here and search for a book that didn’t exist all the while your parents carried on with their regular scheduled programming downstairs – but your parents weren’t dumb, nor were they naïve. Surely, your mother would offer to come up and root around for whatever it was he lied and said you had before she would inevitably have to wake you up in order to deliver the goods to the lying Loomis.

Your anger pulsed as realization dawned on you.

You had to go downstairs.

“Did you say something?” You asked, feigning innocence as you pushed your door open and made your way down, barely glancing at Billy who still stood in your entryway. “What are you doing here?”

Billy licked his lips. “I, uh, wanted to swing by and pick up the book for our English assignment. I think you must have grabbed mine, too, when you were putting your stuff away.”

“Nope,” you shrugged, “I don’t have it.”

Billy awkwardly smiled across at your parents before looking back at you. “You sure?”

“Positive,” you replied coolly. “Maybe you left it at Sid’s house?”

His shoulders briefly fell at your tone and, for a split second, you felt your heart fall into your stomach. You knew you were hurting him with the callousness of your words, but you had to stick to your guns this time around for your own sanity.

“Guess I must have misplaced it,” he wryly admitted. “Sorry for the intrusion, Mrs. Y/L/N.” His eyes flickered to you. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You nodded, prepared to watch him leave, but before he could get a foot out of the door, your mother stopped him.

“Wait, Billy,” she ran out of the living room and into the kitchen, leaving you and Billy alone for all of three seconds before she shuffled back in. “Here,” she held out a dish packed to the brim with Shepard’s Pie. “I know your dad’s been working a lot of late nights so dinner’s might not be the most well-balanced, but a growing boy has to eat.”

Feeding the enemy. Typical.

“Y/N made it,” she bragged, unwittingly fanning the flames of annoyance in your chest. “It’s delicious, too.”

Touched, Billy grabbed the Tupperware container from your mom before glancing at you. He knew you could cook, you’d cooked for him several times in the span of your friendship – long before the two of you began…doing whatever it was you were doing – but as he accepted the container, there was an emotion there that was much too raw and real for you to try and decompress.

You realized, slowly, that your mother’s offering of Shepard’s Pie was probably the first time a maternal figure had paid him any mind since his own mother had walked out on him all those months back.

Your stomach dropped at the thought.

“Y/N is a great cook,” he agreed. This time, his voice was much quieter. “And thank you again, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

Once again, you watched him turn on his heel to leave the house but, with that niggling feeling of guilt twisting inside of your belly, you opened your mouth before you could so much as think to stop yourself.

“I’ll walk you out,” you muttered, flashing your mother a fleeting smile. “Be right back.”

Slipping on some shoes, you ignored Billy’s obviously surprised face as he lingered in the doorway before finally looking across at him. “Let’s go.”

The night was brisk as the two of you strolled towards his car in silence. You shivered absentmindedly as your pajamas offered no real sense of protection from the chill before glancing at Billy. Naturally, his eyes were already on you.

“Do you think your mother’s watching us right now?”

“Knowing her?” You shrugged. “Probably.”

He swallowed hard. “We should talk about what happened.”

“No,” you shook your head, “I know what happened. You saw Steve touch me and got irrationally jealous over it and, rather than deal with it like a grown man, you punched him and he lost his fucking tooth.”

A flicker of anger crossed over his handsome features. “It’s not that simple, Y/N, he—”

“That is probably the only simple thing about our little situation, Billy,” you acknowledged quietly. “You got jealous and you punched a guy. Doesn’t get simpler than that.”

“He deserved it,” he argued. “He’s a moron and shouldn’t have touched you. Do you know how hard it is to see that and not defend you the way I wanted to while it was happening?”

“Defend me?” You sneered. “Or stake your claim on me? No offence, Billy, but the entire male population of our school could ask me on a date tomorrow, and you’d have no fucking say in the matter. Whether they touch me or ask me out or anything, because you and I aren’t a thing.”

Billy chewed on his bottom lip as his grip on the Tupperware tightened considerably. “Yes, we are.” His voice was eerily calm despite the panic surging through his chest. “I love you, I told you that at the cornfield and I meant it. I fucking love you, Y/N.”

“You did,” you said, “and my feelings haven’t changed but you can’t be blind to the fact that this isn’t working, Billy. You getting jealous over me getting unwanted attention from a guy all the while expecting me to sit there and watch you and Sid flaunt your shit all over town?” You could feel your eyes begin to water as your emotions got the better of you, but you wouldn’t cry in front of him. You wouldn’t dare. “I’m supposed to sit there and trust what you’re telling me. That you will break up with Sid, that you do love me, that, if things were different, it would be me you’d be with and only me. But one guy squeezes my thigh and you lose your shit? Where’s the fucking sense in that?”

“I fucked up,” Billy admitted, his bravado long gone. “I see that now, I fucked up. But --”

“But,” you scoffed. “See, there it is. An excuse. I don’t want your excuses anymore, Billy. I want you and while I thought that was enough, I’m seeing it’s not that easy anymore. Not if you get to act like this unhinged asshole whenever I get a sliver of attention.”

You watched Billy’s eyes search your face as his hands trembled. He wanted to reach out and cradle your face, you could tell that much, but – tale as old as time – with an audience, even if it was just a possibility that it was your mother, he remained still. “Don’t do this to me, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice shaky. “Please. I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sosorry.”

“I just think we need to take some time away from each other,” you muttered. “For our own sanity.”

“No,” Billy argued, stepping towards you in desperation. “No, Y/N, I need you. Please don’t do this.”

“I think you need to either make a decision with Sid or be more open with me about what the fuck is going on inside of that head of yours. You can’t go around punching people because you get jealous, Billy. And, until you figure your shit out, I think we should stop this. Whatever this is between us.”

“It’s a relationship,” Billy’s brows furrowed in outrage. “Two people who fucking love each other is a relationship, Y/N.”

A sad smile broke out across your face as you stared up at the starry sky above you. “Two people who love each other but can’t show it. Who have to hide whenever people are around in fear or being seen as anything more than good pals.” You shook your head and met his frenzied stare. “That’s not a relationship, Billy. That’s fucked up. We’re fucked up.” You sniffed and gestured down to the Tupperware in his hands. “Enjoy your food. I’m going back inside now, and I meant what I said. We need some time apart so, please, don’t come around here anymore. At least not until…” you let the sentence hang in the air, unsure of your next few words.

“Until what?” He was clinging to your every word but there was an anger so palpable radiating off of him that made you take a small step back. “Until you decide that you don’t want me anymore? Walk away and leave me like my mother did?”

You cocked your head to the side and hoped like hell the hurt you felt at that accusation didn’t directly show on your face. “If you truly think I would do that, Billy, then we’re even more fucked up than I thought.” You sniffed and began to turn back to your house. “I have a lot of faith in you, Billy, and a whole hell of a lot of trust. It’s about time you showed me that same consideration.”

The raw emotion on his face was jarring and almost made you hang back long enough to console him like you would any other time, but you couldn’t. If he couldn’t trust you, what the hell hope did either of you have at this becoming a real thing? Walking back to your house, your heart broke and any emotion you fought so desperately to keep down began to bubble to the surface. But you wouldn’t break down though, at least not yet.

You always had your cards on the table when it came to Billy Loomis and it was about time that he started showing his, as well.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Madness

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Blaeja

Summary: “I was wondering if I could request an imagine where the reader is a princess and Ivar travels to England with his brothers & thinks the princess is beautiful but he gets teased by Sigurd and his brothers but she can understand their language and decides to flirt with him in front of everyone?”

So I made her Kwenthrith’s daughter because why the fuck not, and Blaeja (Aelle’s daughter) is on this cause again, why the fuck not. Also the Reader might be a tad insane, but at this rate all my Reader characters are idk what to tell u

Word Count: 4.7k (I’m sorry lol)

Warnings: Mentions of rape and child abuse, mentions and allusions to violence and death, my horrible writing

A/N: Idk how I feel about this, I hope I don’t dissapoint the anon that requested it lol. Hope you enjoy, thank you for reading, and ily! <3

Also, I kinda went a lil overboard :/

The handmaid is fixing the coronet over your head when you hear the doors to your rooms open, so she turns to demand propriety from whoever entered unannounced, but seeing Aelle’s daughter with a devilish smile on her lips stops her on her tracks.

“Your Grace.” The woman bows gracefully, and steps back, letting Blaeja take her place.

“Are you ready?” The girl whispers to you, adept hand working at the tresses of your hair to make sure it is carefully hidden under your veil that showcases the delicate circlet on your head.

“You are the one that will be sent off to be married, my friend,” You remind her, chuckling, “To one of those…”

“Lord Sigurd is not that bad,” She interrupts, what for a second sounds like girlish infatuation on her tone. You are opening your mouth to quip on how she refers to one of those brutes as a ‘Lord’ but she clears her throat, and continues, “He played some music for me, the other day.”

“You have nothing to fear then,” You mock with a roll of your eyes, “Maybe he also played music for your father before they executed him, made all of it a much more lovely affair.”

Blaeja tugs at your hair in warning, and you steal a glance at the handmaid that looks carefully at the floor. As if she needed eyes to hear you, as if you didn’t know how she’ll gossip about this with the others.

“Careful, or I’ll ask that you come with me,” She laughs, “I’ll have you sold for two gold coins.”

“You are talking to the heiress to a broken and war-torn kingdom, Lady Blaeja, you better remember that!” You tell her in jest, and she laughs, with that laugh you two share, that laugh born out of despair and loss and uncertainty.

“How could I? Judith never lets me forget what a might Mercia continues to be.” She replies with no little disdain in her tone. After a breath of hesitation, she orders with curt words for the servants to leave you two alone, and once the doors close, the Princess of Northumbria kneels in front of you where you sit, grabbing your hands tightly on her own.

“You are scaring me.”

“There’s no reason to fear,” She tells you even as tears fill her eyes. With a tremulous smile, she whispers, “I heard my sister talking with her husband, about you.”

“Me?”

“Alfred would benefit greatly from having a Mercian Princess as wife,” She states, and though she smiles you feel only cold settling over your heart, dread. “With your mother dead…”

“Dead when King Ecbert, blessed be his memory, took control over Mercia, Blaeja! They already own my kingdom.” You remind her lowly, leaning down so your faces are closer to each other, but this doesn’t dim her smile.

Your heart aches at the reminder of your mother, for her, in all her sins and her scars, was the only family you ever had. The only protection you had, in that palace filled with monsters.

If you think about it, if you sit surrounded by all your sins and your mistakes and your faults and think about it, you know it was the sight of her shaking hands as she looked at them expecting to see blood and told you of the death of her brother that made you stop having faith in your God.

It wasn’t the death of a would-be king at the hands of his sister what made you realize the bishops and priests and deacons and saints were all full of lies, no. It was the emptiness in her gaze as she spoke of walking out of that room a Queen and realizing it wasn’t enough to make up for the pain he -the last remaining alive in the long line of monsters that made up your family- caused her.

It was the hoarse voice of the proud and ruthless Queen of Mercia telling you of the barbarity that took place right under her father’s willfully ignorant gaze, it was the shaking hands that clasped your own and begged for forgiveness that she didn’t need to ask for, it was the severed heads brought in by the Vikings that weren’t enough to heal her, it was the realization God, if he was ever there, looked away most of her life.

You shake those thoughts off, and focus on the Princess before you that smiles in a mix of joy for your fate and bitterness for hers.

With shaky breaths, you insist, “What on earth are you talking about?”

“They would have Mercian blood on their lineage, it would strengthen their claim.” She states, and the disgust it fills you with makes you feel shame. You should be ecstatic at the chance of becoming Queen, at the prospect giving Wessex strong sons to prepare for ruling and beautiful daughters to…to exchange like broodmares, like Blaeja, given to a Viking of all men, breakable daughters to fail to protect, like Kwenthrith, raped by her own brother and uncle.

You remember your mother’s pain. You remember her whispers about the court being filled with snakes, you remember her stories about the women with swords and loud voices.

And you remember King Ecbert’s lessons. You remember his tales about the land where his Ragnar Lothbrok came from, you remember his bitterness at the strange land that captured the heart of a man of God such as Athelstan.

You meet her brown eyes, and force a smile on your lips, because may the earth part underneath your feet and drag you down, you will not wed Alfred.

____

They introduce you to the sons of Ragnar, and you will admit, Blaeja looks positively smitten by the easy smile the blond man gives her in greeting. Lovely.

Judith makes a point of having you be sitting next to Alfred who, blessed be his soul, attempts to strike conversation with you only to be stopped by his own shyness.

You still offer him a few courteous smiles, and thank his kindness when he offers it so. When the Vikings talk amongst each other, mostly about the strange food and customs, you notice the King looks at you to gauge your expression, as if he knows you also know their tongue.

You worry about how much King Ecbert shared with him for a moment, but say nothing.

“So, the one that walked in with your bride,” One of the sons of Ragnar starts, and though you decide to pay attention you keep your gaze on your food and the entertainment going on around you, offering one of the performers a small smile. “Who is she?”

“Princess of Mercia, I think. The crazy queen father fought for with Uncle Rollo and the others, that’s her daughter.” A man with hair that you thought first was short but realized later falls down his back in a thick braid, his blond beard unkept, but his eyes those of an experienced man as they look over the room.

“Let’s hope beauty is not all she shares with that crazy bitch, huh? I would love to fuck a Saxon princess again.” Mocks a man you weren’t introduced to, so not a son of Ragnar, with ink on his face and long dark hair.

You realize too late you have lifted your gaze and set your eyes on him, what is sure to be affront and embarrassment showing on your face.

You lower your eyes again to the table before you, clenching your hands into fists on your lap, but you feel like someone is looking at you, and from the other end of the table, when you peek carefully, you catch the eyes of the one they introduced but whose name you can’t remember, the one with short dark hair, the one whose legs seem to be broken.

He looks at you with a silver of surprise, but there’s something else there. Regardless, you know he knows, and it makes fear settle on your stomach like acid. You wonder if this is what Burgred felt when he was poisoned.

“You’ve been staring at her all night, Ivar,” Blaeja’s betrothed starts, voice sickly mocking. “Are you hoping she’ll look back? Take your cripple ass to her bed?”

“Sigurd…” One of the elder brothers grumbles, clearly tired of it all.

“I’m just saying, he’d have more luck forcing a thrall to touch him than hoping a free woman will.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you, brother? Fucking your slave so she can’t even say no.”

“Who out of the two of us will bed a princess, hmm? It surely isn’t the cripple that can’t even please a slave right, is it?”

You and Alfred exchange a look, no longer pretending either of you don’t understand, as the youngest, Ivar, snarls some threat at his brother, voice and temper rising alike.

Refusing to be spoken of like some sort of cunt with a crown, you speak up, though your gaze remains on your plate.

“Princess Blaeja asks you to play that awful lute to keep your paws off her, so I fear that arrogance is unfounded, my Prince.”

Alfred chokes on his drink as he tries covering a startled laugh with a cough, and you feel wide eyes from the end of the table where the Vikings seat settle on you.

“What did you say?” One of the men asks slowly, and with the madness your mother left you with, you lift your gaze and meet the eyes of the man you recognize as Bjorn Ironside.

“My mother wasn’t crazy,” Is all you reply with gritted teeth, before turning to the blonde that Blaeja is to marry. You don’t know what it is that makes you open your mouth again, but you do, “And I was indeed looking at your brother. I feel for you deeply, my Prince, if you can’t recognize want in a woman’s gaze.”

Alfred clears his throat, what you could swear is a smile -the youthful smile of a boy witnessing chaos- shyly settling on his lips, and stands up to propose a toast and dissipate the atmosphere.

“With this being one of the last nights our dear Blaeja, daughter of the late King Aelle, blessed be his soul, spends with us, I-…”

You don’t listen anymore, taking a sip from your wine and catching over the rim of your goblet the eyes of the youngest son of Ragnar -Ivar, you remind yourself- on you, studying you with a mix of mistrust and curiosity.

You keep your gaze on his, and as you lower your cup from your lips, you offer a smile. His own lips tremble in what was sure to be an instinctual reply with a smile of his own, before he schools his features.

Regardless, he takes his eyes off yours and in his whole posture embarrassment is written. Managing to fluster a Viking of all men fills you with a thrill, a heat, like no other.

The men toast and you gesture your goodbyes as the dinner is dispersed. Before you can make it out the door, Blaeja stops you with a hand on your arm.

“What did y-…do you speak their tongue?”

“I do. King Ecbert taught me a lot before he died,” You state, before frowning in confusion and thoughtfulness, “Before he died at the hands of these men…Blaeja, my friend, don’t you ever stop and think about how strange it all has become?”

Blaeja only narrows her eyes with a growing exasperated smile on her lips.

“I care about what you said to my future husband.”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” You pat her cheek in friendly jest, making her roll her eyes. After a moment of consideration, you tell her, “Though he may not play his lute as often anymore, I fear.”

____

You wait impatiently by the window to your room, wondering over and over if this is the wrong choice, if you are making the worst mistake possible, if you are walking into the wolf’s den.

Before you can think yourself out of this, Blaeja, with her head covered by a dark cloak, makes her way into your room.

“I didn’t think your betrothed would agree.” Is all you state, dryly, as she motions for you to get your own cloak.

“Oh, I can assure you Prince Sigurd despises you, but luckily, he seems to adore me. Go, and don’t make me regret this.”

With a light laugh you kiss her cheek and dart out of the room, ready to follow the familiar path to where you asked Prince Sigurd to arrange a meeting between his brother and you.

“So it is you.” He says, dragging himself up a couch in front of yours. You clasp your hands together to keep them from trembling, and try to remember all the logic, all the strategy, you’ve put behind this stupid plan of yours.

“I told them to let you know.” You reply curtly, but the Prince shrugs.

“Sigurd could be mocking me. Make the cripple think he is meeting with the Princess?” He shrugs, but it is not nonchalant in the slightest. In all of his fame and vitriol, you notice, now only remains a man uncertain, unmoored, braced for rejection or mocking like you’ve scarcely seen before. The knowledge that you, or the combination of you and his older brother, seem to be a vulnerable point for him is a knowledge you don’t truly know what to do with. You say nothing in response, and with a movement of his head, after settling in his seat, he insists, “Why did you want to meet with me?”

“You norsemen have a reputation,” You start carefully, plucking at a lose string on the sleeve of your dress. “And the crown needs the allegiance Blaeja’s marriage with your brother gives them, so no mat-…”

“I don’t like your roundabout ways,” He states brusquely, and it stops you on your tracks, your eyes wide and lips parted as you stare at the Prince. He gestures with one hand, a frown starting to mar his face, “Just say what you want, Princess.”

“I want you to take me with you back to wherever it is you come from. I want them to believe I’ve been stolen.”

The Prince looks at you like you have grown a second head, and to be quite frank, once the words have left your lips you realize you might as well have. This is foolish, and dangerous, and...crazy.

That’s what they called your mother, not only these norsemen but all of them. Because she admitted what many didn’t dare to: that if she had been born with a cock they all would have bowed and given her the crown she deserved, that the earth would have been easier to walk on.

You refuse to think madness is a bad trait.

You don’t have to ponder whether the Viking will see it as such, for you notice you have piqued his interest, you notice the curiosity at the madness in your request.

“Are you sure you aren’t the mad Mercian princess?”

You offer a humorless laugh at his taunt, and retort, “I don’t want to be here anymore. And…I can prove useful to you.”

“If you say a wife…”

You don’t let him finish, leaning closer and whispering,

“They want me to marry Alfred.”

“And you don’t want to.”

“His grandfather took Mercia from me, I will not be used as a broodmare so they can hold on tighter to my kingdom.”

The Viking starts to smile, wild and yet calculating, the ruthless and intelligent man his fame says he is.

“But you don’t want revenge.”

“They can fight for the scraps of what once was a mighty kingdom for the rest of time for all I care,” You offer honestly, “I do not want to be caught up in between. I will have to give him children if I marry him, and I refuse to let a child of mine suffer like my mother did, like Blaeja did.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, and his tone grows cruel, mocking, like the cat that plays with the poor mouse before eating it, when he insists, “I could make you a slave, sell you. If you annoy me, I could torture you. If you betray me, I would kill you.”

“I told you I was of use to you, though,” You insist past the fear that makes your hands tremble, “I will not be of use in pieces. You and Alfred played chess before, haven’t you?”

He loosens his posture, his expression is no longer so guarded and venomous as he asks, “And what is this use?”

“I’m a pawn they want to make Queen,” You state, and the Viking starts to smile. You knew he was smart; you knew he was aware of how he could take advantage of ‘taking’ you as a prisoner for his own gain. You have a feeling he wanted to know if you were aware of how your position could be played. Like chess, you ponder. “Surely you could ask for a lot in exchange for my safe return home.”

He considers your words in silence for a few moments, eyes travelling between yours as if trying to read your response to the words he has not yet uttered.

“And if I don’t want to return you to your home?”

You shrug, “Then they’ll have a rallying call for their war against your people, and I will be free from these…these nobles and their fucking priests.”

The Viking breathes a laugh, surprised and a little enthralled it seems, but you find yourself smiling back.

You keep careful eyes on the moon that travels the skies, watchful over the time that you will have to return to your rooms before anyone notices your absence. But in the meantime, you enjoy with easy smiles and a light heart the company of the Viking, surprisingly enough.

____

And the few extra days Blaeja can buy you do almost nothing for the plans of your escape -a part of you is certain the Viking has a plan he won’t share with you- but it does let you get to know the man you are asking to kidnap you. A giant brute like the others, that’s for certain, but he is smart, and cunning, and his dry humor never fails to make you laugh.

You find yourself intrigued, captivated, much more so than you could have thought when you made the choice to speak out against his brother during that first dinner. It is no secret to you he is no longer a pawn in the game you decided to play, but you cannot help but think you still are merely a pawn to him.

One of the nights you meet under the guard of the moon, he starts, “I cannot take you from this city, not without an army.”

“I know.”

His eyebrows raise, “And you have thought of a way around that.”

“Haven’t you?” You reply with a small smile, knowing he has.

“If you could go closer to York…”

“Or you closer to Tamworth.”

“We’d have no way to leave by sea. I can’t exactly walk through the wilderness with you, Princess, as you can see.”

You roll your eyes with a smile on your lips, but eventually acquiesce with a nod.

You sigh, “Then I don’t know, Ivar.”

You notice it is the first time you have said his name instead of his title, and you raise startled and apologetic eyes to him. He doesn’t seem to mind, though you notice his gaze lingering on you for a few moments longer than it should.

It gives your still young and innocent heart a shock of hope that you feel all the way to the tips of your fingers.

“One way or another, I will steal you, Princess,” He insistes, and you only lift an eyebrow in response. He crosses his arms, “I promise.”

____

“They leave tonight.” Blaeja starts from her place sitting at your side on the garden bench. You turn to her.

“You leave tonight,” You remind her, “Aren’t you forgetting your lovely husband to be?”

But she shakes her head, “Prince Sigurd and I will marry if he returns,” Her voice wavers, and you realize with a mix of dread and joy she has learned to care for the Viking. She straightens her back and continues, “When he returns from the battle they depart today to prepare for.”

“Against Alfred?”

“Against the woman that murdered their mother. He says they are to take back their Kingdom from her.”

“Your Prince trusts you with all of these things.”

“His brother tells you things too.” She states without hesitation, and you look at her but stay silent, not denying Ivar has told you of Queen Aslaug and her murder already. Many things actually, just as you have told him many things too.

“So it will be a while before you see him again, if ever.” You muse, not only talking about her. It would be foolish to feel pain, loss, fear; you tell yourself. It doesn’t stop the prick of tears on your eyes, or the pit of pain on your chest.

“I will depart to Bamburgh in three days to await word of the outcome of the battle.”

You lay your head on her shoulder, releasing a shaky breath, “I’ll miss you.”

_____

Judith hounds you like a dog and it is starting to get on your nerves. You feel you are being judged and considered carefully for the role of Alfred’s wife, a role you do not want to be in and, if you were to ask him, you don’t think he’d want you in either.

The talks start of having a royal wedding soon after Blaeja weds the Viking Prince, who seems to have survived the battle for Kattegat. You tried asking around, bribing a servant or two, to figure out the fate of Prince Ivar, but you are too close to bearing the crown for them to feel comfortable trading secrets with you, it seems.

You catch sight of Alfred’s eyes on you during a dinner one night, and he offers what you swear is a soothing smile even if his warm eyes shine with regret.

Judith grabs onto her son’s arm and a tired-looking Aethelwulf stands up from his throne, calling for the attention of the clergy and nobles alike.

They announce you as Alfred’s betrothed after a few words you don’t bother with listening to.

As a gift for his bride to be, Alfred arranges for a few soldiers to escort you to Bamburgh, apparently at the request of Princess Blaeja that you accompany her on her wedding day. And barely with time to pack, almost three months after you last saw her, you are in a carriage on your way to the North.

____

She looks radiant, that’s the first thing you notice when you see her awaiting for you by the gates to the royal home. Bright smile and even brighter eyes, rosy cheeks and excitement and joy written all over her posture.

It gladdens you, to know she will be wed to a man she can care for, a man that can care for her. That maybe, just maybe, like in those tales your mother used to mock, there’s love to be felt before the Lord is to bind them together.

And once the ships arrive you will not lie and pretend you don’t feel disappointment, maybe grief, at the absence of the vitriolic yet captivating prince you met what seems so long ago.

You heard them talking about a son of Ragnar becoming King of Kattegat, and you have no doubts as to who bears the crown now. In another world, you may have left, he may have earned a kingdom in what used to be Mercia or Northumbria in exchange for the safe return to Wessex you’d never make.

But you will not let it stop you from finding a way out of this arrangement, of this…this marriage.

The possibility of asking Blaeja to claim you as a permanent resident of her land is there, of course, but you don’t think she has enough leverage against the crown itself to be able to keep you more than a few months. You could simply run away, but you are not stupid, you know you’d die or be found before you can spend a moon in the wilderness.

Still, you are a smart woman, you tell yourself, you will find a way out.

While the dinner -feast, they call it- in celebration for the wedding takes place, a man you recognize as one of the eldest sons of Ragnar approaches you while you sit alone.

You cannot help the pang of fear that runs through you at the sight of one of those giants looming over you, but you still offer what you hope is a courteous smile.

“You have to come with me.” He tells you, and you frown.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Follow me.”

He doesn’t wait for your answer, turning his back to you and slithering effortlessly between the dancing and feasting guests. After a moment of consideration, with a small smile on your face as if it were a thrillingly dangerous game of hide and seek, you chase after the Viking.

He leads you all the way down to the docks, and since the moon is high up in the skies, the streets are almost deserted and you are left forced to guide yourself in the darkness or thanks to the rare and dim light of a faraway lantern.

You still push on, your heart beating on your ears and fear and thrill bubbling under your skin.

“This is where I leave you, Princess,” The son of Ragnar says, stopping abruptly and turning to you. You frown, but he doesn’t step closer so you have nothing to fear. “We will see each other again.”

The man with the blondish and long hair gestures a mock of a formal goodbye, and walks confidently back to the royal home where the party -feast- is still taking place.

You are left dumbfounded and alone in the darkness, and instinct makes you want to chase after him and demand answers.

“Following a strange Viking into the darkness,” A familiar voice starts from behind you, stopping you on your tracks, “No wonder people say you are as crazy as your mother, Princess.”

You turn around with a frown and raised chin, ready to retort, “My mother was not c-…”

But you realize halfway as the words leave your lips whose voice it is, to whom the familiar pale blue eyes belong to.

Ivar stands now, and his hair seems longer and braided in some strange style, even his armor looks different. It seems like years have passed even though it has scarcely been half a year yet.

“You’re alive.” You whisper, and the Viking frowns, affronted.

“Of course I am,” He replies arrogantly, and you cannot keep the smile from your lips. He extends a hand, “And I’ve come to…steal you, was it?”

You don’t answer, even if a part of you is thrilled at him remember that first conversation. You only look at him with wide eyes.

“You’re a king now.”

“Hmm, and I was offered a queen, was I not?”

It startles you back to reality, back to your senses, and you notice the three ships with dim lanterns and silent warriors docked at the sides of the dragon-headed ship Ivar -King Ivar now, you suppose- stands in.

“That’s…not what I meant.” You say, but still your hand grasps at the skirts of your dress to lift it up, and you walk closer.

“Have you decided to stay with them?” And the sudden steel underneath his words, a promise of what you could be at the other end of if he is to believe you’ve fooled him, or gone back on your word, makes a thrill of fear go down your back.

“No, but…”

“Usually stealing a bride doesn’t involve this much talking, Princess.” He interrupts, and extends a hand, and you look at it with wide eyes.

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“I-…” You look into his eyes, pale blue eyes that you saw more than once when you closed your own in these past months, and a breathy laugh leaves your lips, “This is madness.”

Ivar says nothing, but his hand is still stretched between you. You take it, and jump into the ship.

___

So, that was it :/ I have a feeling it’s pretty boring but I’ll hope that’s cause I wrote it lol

Thank you for reading! I would love to know what you think, and if you wanna rquest anything go right ahead, I promise to try my best lol

Thank you, I hoped you enjoyed <3

[imma-potatoo]

OooO! For the requests, u!Patton mini fic with sympathetic Intruloceit and abusive Logicality, Patton is physically and mentally abusive to Logan, and he shows up to the dark side of the mindscape bleeding from the head and on the verge (ha) of passing out, Janus mends him (gets romantic when he wakes up) and Remus goes to bust some asses xD

(as you wish~)

The logical side as his eyes locked to the floor. His gaze fixed on the rusty nails pinning the floor boards down

"Honestly Logan! For being the logical side, you're just so dumb!"

"I know." there was a board to the left of his foot, it has a small spec of red paint. It was kind of a rusty colour if you looked closely at it, and it was flaky. Crusting over the wood rings

"Did you seriously think that Thomas would ever want to listen to you? I mean, what in the nation was that?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry." The paint smelled too, it had a strong iron scent that he could smell from where he was standing. The pigment was soaked into the wood-

"Are you even listening to me? Or are you just that big of a hypocrite?"

"I kno- wait!" Logan snapped his head up, being met with the two furious eyes of his boyfriend

Patton took a hissing breath as he stormed up to the indigo side, "You idiot!! You never ever listen to me! If you ever loved me you would do what I say!"

Logan backed up as Patton stepped closer. Logan could only choke in fear as Patton screamed in his face, their bedroom walls seeming to shake.

"P-Patton w-wait pl-ease" Logan choked on his tears as he hit the bedroom wall. Patton growling in his face

Even though Patton was the shorter one in the relationship, he was stronger, and certainly more intimidating.

Patton looked up into Logan's eyes, a small smile pulling at his lips, "for someone emotionless, you sure are expressive" he cupped the side of Logan's face, "did you lie?"

The shorter man combed back the pin straight hair of the logical side, ignoring the other side's trembling. "You know how I feel about liars, don't you sugar pie?"

Logan's vocal chords betrayed their owner, only small croaks and choked off noises escaping from his lips. Patton caught the hair at his nape, "Answer me"

Logan tried. But he couldn't. His vocals only squeaking in the protest as more tears fell down his cheeks

Patton's expression turned into a sneer. Tightening his grip, "I'm giving you one more chance Logan." his eyes were cold, drained of the emotion and love that they normally held. His skin felt burning. The inferno burning him from the inside out.

No answer could leave the side's lips.

Patton threw the side to the floor, his glasses falling off with the impact and the rusty nail hit his temple. Crimson liquid leaked from the cut. A sudden lightheadedness filled the side's skull, the room starting to spin, and the lights dug knifes into his head

Patton placed his foot on the others back, shoving him to the ground with a crack of Logan's spine. The cyan side kept pushing down as the floor creaked, "I'll answer since you seem too dumb to figure it out." he pushed harder on the side's ribs, "I. Hate. Liars. Deceit is lucky that I haven't dealt with him yet" cold eyes dug into his soul.

"Never ignore me ever again, are we clear?"

Logan nodded and his partner left the room

Logan layed on the floor for what seemed like hours, his breath raced and his head pounded as the ticking of the nearby clock seemed to work to drive him into insanity.

The blue side pushed himself upward, stabling himself in the wall. His limbs felt like lead as he stumbled out of the room

Truth be told, Logan had no clue where he was going. All he knew is that he needed to get help. So he kept walking

It felt like hours, the sickening feeling clinging to his gut as his head filled with cotton, he barely even recognized where he was anymore. It was dark, he knew that. And it smelled strangely like earl gray tea and copper. The tea was the much stronger scent though. It filled the room like someone had sprayed the scent, and old books lined the shelfs. Leaving the room with this warm atmosphere that was lacking everywhere else, even in his own room-

"Logan?"

The logical side looked up, everything was slightly blurry from his missing glasses, but he could make out scales and a black capelet.

Blood flowed down the side's skull, "H-help-" Logan collapsed into unconsciousness.

---

"-mus! We don't even know what happened to him! You cannot just go hit everyone over the head!"

"Well why not! Its guilty until proven innocent!"

There was a slight pause, "other way darling."

"hmm? Nah! I'm right! You're wrong!"

A sigh was heard, Logan could feel someone combing threw his hair, although it was a lot softer and nicer then how Patton did it. "Remus, darling, love of my life. How can I say this? NO!"

Logan cracked open his eyes, his head was covered in thick bandages and he was rested in Janus' lap. Remus bouncing on the other side of Janus.

"Darling, we don't want to wake up Logan."

"Do you think that when Logan wakes up he'll tell us who we have to kick? I hope so! No one should ever hurt someone like that, I wouldn't even do that! And I do a lot of super gory things! Like!" a gasp sounded from the green side, "Have I shown you Jeffrey yet?!"

Janus chuckled, "I don't think so. Why don't you go grab him?"

Logan opened his eyes fully to meet Janus' when Remus ran to the other room. He wasn't expecting to see a fond smile upon the yellow side's lips.

Janus didn't have his hat, curly fry like curls cascading down his forehead, but the rest of his attire was in place, "Good morning, my amazing logic. How are you feeling my dear?"

Logan opened his mouth, but sputtered from the dryness of his thoat. Janus handed him a glass of water, aiding him in holding the glass

Logan drew a calm breath, panting for oxygen, "Th-thank you"

The yellow side smiled, "I have nothing to accept. I simply gave you a simple human courtesy."

Logan blinked, mouth gapping as Janus ran his ungloved finger tips through his hair. Logan slumped against his chest, "Why did you help me?" tears clogged his thoat

Janus blinked, confusion filling his features, "because it was the right thing to do." Janus traced the swell of his back, avoiding the bandages that covered his skin as the time ticked away, "Logan?"

"Yes?"

"who hurt you?"

Silence spread throughout the room, specks thought flickered across the logical side's eyes. Lose flecks of hair covering his eyes as tears stained his face.

"I-I don't want him to hurt you"

A calm smile spread across the deceitful side's face, "He couldn't if he tried."

"JAN!! JANNNN!! SNAKEY!!" Remus burst through the door, a simple looking terrarium in his hands, "Look!" Remus paused the very second he locked gaze with Logan, a gasp filled the room as the green side rushed to place the terrarium on the scratched coffee table

"Lo! Lo-Lo! How ya feeling? Who do I have to hit? No one should hurt you like that!"

Blurry eyes flickered back and forth to the two sides. Both had this tint of protectiveness in their eyes, the tint covered their eyes like a coating of some sort. It was darker, but not the kind of look that was located in Patton's eyes.

"Patton," his voice was hushed, barely audible to the other sides.

Remus grinned, pressing a light kiss to his and Janus' forehead, "I love both of you!" The green side snatched his morning star from the dining room table, slamming the front door shut behind him.

Blush covered the blue side's face, his brain lagging to catch up. "W-what?"

Janus looked down at the taller man, "Rem just gets ahead of himself sometimes, we'll talk about it when he gets back" a soft grin spread on his face, "Want to watch BigHero6 dear?"

Surprise coated Logan's features for a millisecond, hesitantly nodding to the offer. Logan watched Janus search for the remote, his attention being brought to the terrarium on the table

"Jeffrey?"

"he names all his pets Jeffrey."

[moons-and-stars-and-shit]

OKAY SO-

can i get a platonic matchup pleaSeEeE?

okay, so- lets talk about myself sdsnfnenxnf

My name is Jei, I use she/they pronouns, I am 5’11” and I ABSOLUTELY AM THE AWKWARD TALL KIND OF PERSON (I wish I wasn’t tho-). I have short curly hair, (RANDOM THOUGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS, DO YOU EVEN NEED TO KNOW HOW I LOOK FOR A P L A T O N I C MATCHUP? weeeeelll i am already here so, lets just keep going ig) I am like b i g IDK BAHSHAHSHABS

As you can see I am a bit uH chaotic (it is a daily thing but iDK TODAY I AM JUST OVER THE TOP) I am an ambivert, I am an INFP, Aries sun, Cancer moon and Sagittarius rising sbdsndns

I uHhhHh- I am very awkward in first meetings but if we have something in common I’ll ramble about our common interest which almost always leads to me talking about other stuff.

I am a Marvel fan if that’s uUuuh- important? I LOVE UM GOOD OMENS BAHSHAHZHA, i dOnt even know what i am talking about anymore but lets keep going BABDBAHZHA

I have a B I G variety of music taste, from 40s big band songs to uhhhHh lets just say ppcocaine(???

I get distracted w a y too easily, I tend to get lost on time

I LOVE TO DRAW AND TO WRITE (but i never have time to finish so me is very m a d >:))

My best subject is english, english teachers always love me for some effing reason :D

My favorite colors are orange, green, coffee? (COFFEE IS A COLOR? I FORGOT OMFG) OH SHOOT WAIT I HAD TO SEARCH IT UP, IT IS CALLED BROWN BAHAAHHAHAHA I AM SO STUPID, beigeEs and blaCk >:)

yeah, i like dark academia buT in a like chaotic rebel way if it is possible???????

AM I MAKING ANY SENSE NOW???? i am sleep deprived so i don’t really knoW

I tend to see the good in people (yes that includes bad people too, sadly), I have troubles speaking for myself in situations where people are troubling me,,,

What elseeee????

I am lazy sometimes, I’ll admit it 😌☝🏽 and it gets on my nerves:D (i am working on it tho)

All my time is sucked by school, I am an overachiever and adbanxnajxjs i cry cuz school u know? <3

And I think that’s it?????

THANK YOUUU, HAVE A NICE DAY/NIGHT

@burntbayleaf IM SORRY BUT WE NEED TO BE FRIENDS

Also yes my Aries sister 😩

Platonic Matchup

Nishinoya Yuu

How Y’all Met

Aight

So you rolled up into school with a FIRE marvel t-shirt

And nishinoya being a marvel fan himself took IMMEDIATE notice

So what did he do

Approach you of course 🙄✋

However...

It was quite awkward at first 🥲

He really just went up to you and was like

“Oh you like marvel? What’s your favorite movie, or do you prefer the comics?, OH Have how ever seen...”

And he just went on and on and on

But when he realized he was rambling he apologized and asked you the first question again

Now it was your turn to ramble on and on about your interests

But honestly noya just rolled with it

Rooooooollliiiinnnng Thunnndaaaa

After you both were done with your rambling

He invited you over to his house for a #MarvelMarathon

And who tf were you to say no

So you pulled up to his house and started the marathon

In the middle of said marathons noya’s phone started to ring

And what was his ringtone?

Ppcocains PJ

And what did you do when you heard this?

Sang along ofc

And noya was just in shock

But after overcoming his shock he started singing with you

Yeah...he missed that call

But who gives af! Y’all are having a concert rn!

The day bled into night and he offered for you to stay the night

Not wanting to walk home in the dark you agreed

And oml the night was just filled with movies, mini concerts, and junk food 👀

Ever since that night you and him have been attached at the hip

What You Have In Common

Well obviously you both like Marvel

And ppcocain

But you both have a chaotic energy that mashes well with each other

You both have small attention spans/ get distracted very easily 😀

Istg conversations with you two are all over the place

One minute it’s this subject then two seconds later it’s a different subject

Fun fact: you made him watch good omens with you and now he’s obsessed

He says he has a deep emotional connection with Crowley ❤️

Favorite Things To Do Together

Good lord

Honestly if he could just recreate your first sleepover

Life would be perfect

Because THATS his favorite thing to do with you

Just bonding over common interests

Whether that be with music, movies, hobbies

Whatever

No matter what you two do it’s always a party

OTHER THAN BEING CRAZY THO

He actually really likes to have drawing competitions with you

Even though he always loses 🥲

You’ve offered to not make it a competition

But he says that’s what make it fun :)

Random Hc

Oh your his personal tutor

100%

He needs help with school

Screw the teachers

Screw the tutors

There is only ✨you✨

He has also volunteered you as a tutor for the team :D

without your knowledge....

You two have weekly movie nights

But lately he’s just been binging good omens with you

Speaking of Good Omens 👀

That is YOUR show

Like if one of you even watch ONE episode without the other

All hell breaks lose

Ok off topic Hc but people think your the equivalent of asahi 🥲

Astrology

Independent Aries and collaborative Libra form a funny sort of friendship.

Aries tries convincing Libra to take chances, shake off criticism, and be more direct.

Libra constantly tells Aries to slow down, smell the flowers, and be more appreciative.

It's an odd couple type of relationship that can work extremely well.

Aries can learn the fine art of diplomacy from Libra, while Libra may become more assertive thanks to Aries.

While the Aries and the Libra are opposing each other from an astrological point of view, they can still become friends very fast.

The Aries admires how the Libra is graceful, stylish and funny, while the other way around, the latter truly likes how determined to take part in new adventures and always courageous their friend is.

Of course, the friendship between these two will sometimes be challenging because the Aries can get hurt seeing the Libra is flighty, while the latter may not like the way the former is pushy.

However, these two can easily make up and neither of them likes to hold a grudge.

Aesthetic

Chaotic ⚡️👹💥

Songs-

PJ - Ppcocain

Tokyo Drift - Teriyaki Boyz

Won’t Bite - Doja cat

My Axe - Insane Clown Posse

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Reunions

Request: Hi! Can i request an imagine where reader is Sirius daughter, and older than Harry and she’s like an older sister to him, She promides Sirius that she’d always protect him, as he couldn’t when he was away. Probably she gets hurt all the time by doing this, but she doesn’t care. If you want, can you make her date Fred or something, and you can add some angst, or whatever. Develop as u wish, hope u like it! Sorry if it’s not very clear! xx

A/N: Here it is @play-morezeppelin ! Thank you for your request, I hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing, I’ll admit I struggled to start it but once I got into, I couldn't really stop. I hope I’ve done your request justice - I had to have a reunion between Sirius and the reader!

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Reader (romantic), Harry Potter x Reader (platonic), Sirius Black x Reader (familial).

Warnings: swearing, angst, some violence

Word count: 3.3k

A letter from your father, that was all you had left of him. A letter asking you, begging you, to watch out for baby Harry.

For the first fourteen years of your life, you are unable to due to Harry being raised by his muggle aunt and uncle, but also being far too young. You needed to be raised yourself.

Your arrival at Hogwarts introduced you to the Weasley twins. Fred and George quickly became your best friends from the moment you were sorted into Gryffindor. You also had to be honest with yourself, this last year you had been catching yourself looking at Fred in a different light; looking at him as more than a friend. It felt natural with Fred – to go from a friendship to a relationship, as if it was always meant to be. You only hope that he felt the same way.

The arrival of Harry Potter at Hogwarts and his sorting into Gryffindor had made you miss your father more than usual. Your memories of Harry were few and far between, visiting him often as a baby but never seeing him again after the unfortunate deaths of his parents – of your godparents.

A friendship is quickly formed between you and the boy you once thought of as family. Helped along by your friendship with the Weasley twins. Your friendship group starts to blend across year groups and there isn’t a thing you would do to change it, cherishing every single friendship between the trio: Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Through his first year at Hogwarts, you had become somewhat of a rock for Harry. Someone he could come to if he wanted to speak freely about his worries or his parents. You wished you could help him; through every new bit of information he found about his parents, he ended up grieving them all over again. He would come to you when that happened; Harry felt an almost kinship with you – he couldn’t explain it, he just knew that you would understand.

If you had one complaint about Harry and his friends though, it was that they could not, for one second, keep themselves out of trouble. By the end of their first year, you had lost count on your hands of how many injuries you had gotten trying to protect them. Their second year was no different; you had no choice to forgive Harry after had apologised over and over for getting you hurt in the process.

You could only hope and pray that their third year would be different.

“Harry?” You call out over breakfast.

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“Can you promise me one thing for this year?”

“What’s that?”

“Stay out of trouble for me and my health?”

Harry laughs, “I’m afraid I can’t make that promise. Haven’t you heard? There’s a serial killer after me now.”

You sigh at his answer; you realise that their third year was to be the same. You had heard about the escaped convict from Azkaban; your heart had dropped the minute you saw your father’s face plastered over every single wizarding publication. It was an outer body experience, to see your father again after so long.

You’re snapped out of your reveries by the Daily Prophet being slammed down in front of you.

“It’s like a family reunion for you, isn’t it (Y/N)?” A Slytherin says, snickering lightly.

You freeze; any chance of a reply lost in the tears that start to well in your eyes. An arm wraps around your shoulders, you don’t need to look to know it’s Fred.

“Bugger off, will you? You’re wasting your breath.” He says towards the student; they quickly turn and walk away.

Fred leans into you, whispers into your ear. “Don’t worry, love. There’s an extra-large Dung-bomb with their name on it.”

He frowns when you simply nod; normally, the idea of a prank or revenge gets you smiling and planning along with him.

He grabs your hand, and pulls you up to stand with him, “Come on, we’re gonna talk.”

You let Fred pull you from the Great Hall; he doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re in an empty classroom where he sits you down at a desk. He leans against the desk opposites and looks at you.

You start to rant, wiping at your eyes, feeling slightly foolish, “I just didn’t expect to see him. It sounds silly because of course – of course his face is going to be plastered on every news outlet in the wizarding world. Even the muggle Prime Minister was informed for Christ’s sake, but I didn’t actually think I would see him, or a picture of him.”

“It’s understandable that you didn’t. You haven’t seen your father in twelve years.”

You snort, “I know. He looks so different, Fred. It scared me.”

Fred takes a seat on top of your desk, wrapping an around your shoulder. He rubs his hand up and down your arm in a comforting motion. You can’t help but lean into his side. No words need to be said between the two of you; Fred doesn’t need to offer you words of comfort, simply being there for you through this is enough for you.

“Thank you for the Hall.”

“I’ll always defend you; you know that.”

You sniffle, “I do. You’re too good for me, Fred.”

“I doubt that. I’d like to think I’m perfect for you actually.”

You look at him, an eyebrow raised.

Fred swallows, “This wasn’t the time or place that I wanted to do this, but I’ve had a crush on your for about a year now and I would really like it if you would go out with me?”

A smile breaks out across your face, leaning up, you press a kiss to his cheek, “Yes, I’ll go out with you. I’ve had a crush on you for so long.”

Fred smiles at you, he also starts to blush.

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

Things start to deteriorate in school; Sirius Black enters the school multiple times. You almost vomited when you hear what happened to Ron – he doesn’t seem to be too shaken up by the event, but your stomach turns with guilt regardless. You start to panic over what could happen next; what will he do next? Has he been driven to insanity in Azkaban?

The comments made by fellow students get worse too. It has never been a secret who your father was, and you were never ashamed to be his daughter. You believed in his innocence and that was all you needed; you didn’t need the approval or belief of other students. It was becoming routine for you to receive two or three comments on your way to any class; it was becoming draining, but every single time after every single comment, you thought back to the aged letter from your father that is hidden away in your trunk. Fred stands by you through it all; defending you constantly. George has had to stock up on his Zonko product’s more times than he would like to admit to you.

Through all of this, your weekends have become your favourite times of the week. They are the days where you can spend the whole day with Fred and not have to worry about anything. Comments are still made, but you pay less attention to them on the weekend. Instead, focusing all of your energy into your relationship with Fred, your homework, your friends and Hogsmeade.

Your first date with Fred is at Hogsmeade; the day is spent together, dawdling from shop to shop. Grabbing some new quills at Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop and updating your Honeyduke’s sweets stash. It’s a perfect day, and only made better by the kiss Fred places on your lips before entering the school grounds. Your smile and blush last for days after that.

Time spent with Fred helps to ease the burden and the guilt you feel about what is happening. Fred reassures you multiple times and when that doesn’t work, he kisses you quiet. That works pretty well.

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

You had known perfectly well that Harry, Hermione and Ron would visit Hagrid with the execution of Buckbeak, the Hippogriff. From the very minute they had shown you the letter from Hagrid telling them of Buckbeak’s fate, you know that they would not let it be. It was sweet, that they wanted to be there for Hagrid, but it was not worth the trouble they would be in if they were caught.

Rushing out of the common room, you could only hope that you could catch them in time.

You don’t. Instead, you see all three running towards the Whomping Willow.

You start running towards the trio the moment you see the great, black dog that you know is your father.

From there, you start to curse whatever luck you have. It is just your luck and your choice of friends that get you into messes such as these. You make a mental note to expand your friendship group after everything passes.

Entering the passage below the Whomping Willow, your breath comes in short pants. Nerves and adrenaline are taking over your system; you know exactly who is at the end of the tunnel. You never thought a reunion would be possible, and all you wanted was for it to be in better circumstances.

You stop short of the entrance. Nerves have overtaken your adrenaline, your stomach turning at the thought of seeing your father again after twelve years of separation. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes; the newspaper clipping flashes before your eyes. Would he even recognise you after so long?

You take a deep breath to steel yourself. Then you enter the room.

Ron lies on a bed; his face crumpled in pain, Scabbers the rat flailing about in his hand.

Harry and Hermione stand together in the corner of the room; Harry’s body partly shielding Hermione. His wand is raised, he looks shocked at your entrance.

“(Y/N)!? What are you doing here?” He shouts.

“Harry, I need you to listen to me. I need you to put the wand down.”

“No! Why should I? He killed my parents, (Y/N). He is the reason I don’t have my mum and dad.”

“Harry, please. Put your wand down. I need to tell you something.”

Harry looks at you; sadness, grief and anger run rampant in his eyes. You frown at him, how many times must this boy relive the death of his parents?

“Okay. Harry, here. Have my wand.” You throw your wand at him; he catches it.

“I’m defenceless now. Will you put your wand down and let me explain to you why I’m here?”

He continues to watch you, but slowly, Harry lowers his wand. You sigh quietly in relief.

“Thank you, Harry.” You whisper. “What I’m about to say, I need you to give me the benefit of the doubt. I need you all to remember that I am only two years older than you all.”

“Why does that matter?” Hermione asks.

“Because Hermione, the man standing behind me is my father.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Ron shouts.

You close your eyes at the shouts coming from all three. You want to look at him, your father, but you aren’t ready just yet. You can feel his eyes on you though; taking in every detail from the twelve years he has been missing from your life.

“Sirius Black is my father.” You start, when their voices have quietened down. “Truthfully, I’m the product of a one-night stand. Sirius got full custody of me when he was told I existed; my mother agreed. I got two years with him, that’s all. Two years with my father before he was taken away to Azkaban.”

“He killed my parents, (Y/N)! Of course he got sent to Azkaban, he should still be there.” Harry shouts, his eyes glistening.

“Harry, no. I’m not trying to erase your pain, Harry. I’m truly not. But it wasn’t just you who lost people that night. I lost my father and my godparents. Lily and James were my godparents, just like Sirius is your godfather.

“He left me a letter, that was all he could leave me. A letter. In which he begged me to watch out for you Harry, and I am so sorry that I couldn’t for the first eleven years of your life, but I am only two years older than you. My befriending of you when you arrived at Hogwarts was genuine, but my father’s words always stayed in the back of my head. I made sure to look out for you, but you have an incredible talent for getting yourself into trouble.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I trusted you with so much.” Harry asks, the slight break in his voice the only evidence of his emotions.

“You never asked. From the minute of his escape, I was petrified of you finding out. It isn’t a secret who my father is, and I am not ashamed of him, so it was never hidden.” The panic within you is starting to rise; the very last outcome of this was losing Harry’s trust – you absolutely did not want that to happen.

Ron grimaces, “Does Fred know?”

You blush, “Yes. Your entire family knows Ron. I was raised with Bill and Charlie through the first wizarding war.”

Ron nods, seeming happy at your answer. His protectiveness of his older brother coming out; he did not want you lie to Fred – he wouldn’t stand for it.

Throwing a small smile in Ron’s direction, you prepare yourself for turning around.

For the first time since you arrived in the shack, you look at your father. His clothes are ruined, his hair reaches his elbows, and he’s far too thin. A sob breaks free of your lips, and he’s at your side in an instant. His hands on either side of your face, getting a good look at you. He hasn’t seen so much as a picture of you in twelve years; he cannot believe that you even recognise him.

“(Y/N)?” Sirius whispers.

You nod, tears falling freely now. “Hi Dad.”

He wraps you in his arms. He hasn’t held you in his arms since you were two years old and you were a delightfully chubby toddler. When he was taken away to Azkaban, you were barely taking your first steps, still needing to be held by your father. Now, you reach his shoulders easily where you wrap your arms, wanting to sob again from the feeling of his bones clearly poking through the skin. Sirius clings to you; savouring the fact that he’s holding his daughter after so long.

“You know,” Sirius starts, “You used to be smaller.”

You nod, “I know. We’ve missed a lot.”

“(Y/N)! Get away from him. He’s still a murderer.” Harry shouts.

“He isn’t. He never was.”

“He isn’t innocent; he sold out my parents to Lord Voldemort.” Both Hermione and Ron wince at the use of the Dark Lord’s name.

“No, he didn’t.” You state, gritting your teeth.

“Then who did?” Harry demands; all he wants are answers, and he is more than entitled to them.

“Peter Pettigrew.” A voice says; one that neither yours nor Sirius’.

Remus Lupin enters the room. After that, even more explanations are given, and secrets revealed. You knew that in the morning, you would have one hell of a headache from all the information you had to process. Your heart went out to Harry, who in the span of a few weeks has had his entire family history almost rewritten. The trust between you had been damaged, and it would take a lot of time to fix.

If possible, the night gets worse. As the group lead Pettigrew and unconscious Snape (who dramatically interrupted) back to the castle, the full moon rises. Taking one single look at Lupin, you know that he hasn’t taken his Wolfsbane Potion and he’s about to transform. All hell breaks loose from that very moment – Sirius transforms, Snape resurrects, and Harry has to follow. He has to follow. You barely get close to him before Snape pulls you back, berating you for being so stupid. You have to repress the urge to scream at him; you fight each step of the way back to castle, only calming when you realise that Ron is seriously hurt and for Fred’s sanity, you help him to the hospital wing.

Once he’s settled and getting treatment, you take a seat on one of the spare beds. The thing you want to do most is go and find your father, but you can’t move. Instead, you start to cry silently. Letting the tears you’ve hidden for twelve years finally start to flow. After what seems likes hours, from sheer exhaustion, you pass out on the bed.

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

You awake in the hospital wing with Fred comes bursting in, disturbing the peace.

“Thank God, you’re okay.” He breathes. His arms wrap around you tightly, pressing you to him.

“I am.” You say, rubbing a hand up and down his back, “I’m okay.”

Fred pulls away, he looks as if he wants to run his hands all over you, to check for himself that you are truly okay with no major injuries. Fred had never known panic like it, when Professor McGonagall pulled him to one side in the common room to tell him that you were currently lying in the hospital wing. Everything was white noise after that, leaving as fast as he could so he could get to you.

You grab his hands, hold them in both of yours, rubbing calming circles into them. “I’ve got nothing other than a few scratches; go check on your brother, Fred.”

Fred frowns, he doesn’t want to leave you – not for one second. Instead, he shouts to other bed, “Ron! Are you okay?”

Ron replies, “I’ll be fine, mum and dad are already on their way.”

Fred grins at you, “I’ve checked on him. Can I stay with you now?”

You nod, opening your arms for him. The only thing you wanted at this moment in time was Fred’s arms around you. He obliges happily; his arms are wrapped around you and you feel as if you can finally breathe, as if you are finally back on earth after the most dramatic evening on your entire life. His hands rub up and down your back and you hum happily.

“(Y/N)?”

“Fred?”

“Will you tell me what happened tonight?”

“I’m sure the whole school knows by now.”

“I just want to hear it from you; to know that you weren’t in real danger.”

You sigh, “I will. Just not tonight, I need tonight to process please.”

He nods, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Take all the time you need.”

Looking at other beds, you can see Harry and Hermione laid out in separate beds. Fear starts to flow through your body.

“Fred, what happened to Sirius?”

“He’s been caught. The teachers are keeping him hidden in one of their rooms.”

Tears start to form in your eyes; you don’t even know; you were certain that you had cried yourself out last night. “Oh god, no. I just got him back. I just got my father back and they’re going to take him away again.”

Fred shushes you, not to stop you talking but because Harry and Hermione have awoken, and Dumbledore has entered the hospital wing. They shout for a few minutes before Dumbledore talks to them quietly. Hermione pulls a long necklace out of her shirt and you swiftly realise that she is in possession of a Time Turner; and all at once, it hits you what they’re going to do.

Harry catches your eyes for a second, nods, and then he’s gone. And all you can do is wait.

They’re going to rescue an innocent man. They’re going to rescue your father.

[hhuta]

every day i think about how they changed the le bien qui fait mal and l'assasinphonie choreography so salieri wasn't dancing close with sexy half naked men. do we know why. i have tried and failed to pinpoint an exact time. i feel like im going insane. they no homoed a dance

anon.. i think about that daily too... im so happy someone else loves the original choreos like i do 😭 it took me a while to reply cuz i was on a mission to answer ur questions as best as i could. so... finally... here is what i found out:

first of all if u wanna read my rant about the changes, in general, here are the posts about le bien qui fait mal and l'assasymphonie

second of all "do we know why" is a good question. meaning i dont have an answer dlkjaskl i just now started to learn french so if they ever talked about it in a video, or something... i missed it. so right away im telling u that i can only offer my guesses.

///

starting with LE BIEN QUI FAIT MAL, as i said in that post i linked, i tried to figure out whether they only degayed it for the 2011 proshot or not and i found out that no, the changes were also present in live performances.

then an anon told me massimiliano (the dancer who manhandles salieri) couldnt be at the 2011 proshot recording. i checked the video and he really wasnt there at all, but that still doesnt fully explain things, bc as u will see from my extensive, very professional research, unlike in the 2011 proshot, in live 2011 shows massimiliano was there, performing, in other parts of the musical. just not during lbqfm. i know he is an irreplaceable icon, so much that i couldnt find a single video where he wasnt the one manhandling salieri (even tho other dancers, from other parts of the choreo, kept switching), but to me its now clear that that was not the case. they really just decided to change the choreo.

so now lets see how it all progressed

for that its helpful to know the dates of mor performances. based on that i was insane enough to watch as many videos as i could to try to pinpoint when the choreo changed. except it wasnt that simple. i quickly found out that a loootttttt of other changes happened before that major one, before massimiliano left. so here it is

THE LBQFM CHOREO CHANGES I NOTICED

03.01.2010 last PDS performance, still the original

6, 26 february 2010 original

11 march 2010 original (massimiliano's skirt fell off 😭)

20 march 2010 original

8 may 2010 original

9 may 2010 not so much the original anymore. this is the first change i've noticed. @1:28 originally its a male dancer who bends back salieri and then there are 2 men and 2 women who .. idk how to describe it, but do that push and pull motion. here one of the guys is not there

(10, 11, 12 no performances)

13, 15, 16 may 2010 now the other guy is gone too, only women left (but the dancer is not really gone. im pretty sure hes there, doing another thing next to them)

(cannot find a video from the 17th, that was the last performance in lyon)

performances at zenith de saint etienne begin at the 21st but i couldnt find a video from it

22 may 2010 original again (sidenote salieri is really unhinged here)

27 may 2010 change. female dancer who's usually interacting with salieri during the first verses isnt there, just massimiliano. not sure if its the same woman who calls him during the bridge and moves him thru the dancers but anyways shes also not there, he walks around alone. so when the Climax happens, again, only massimiliano is there grabbing him

31 may 2010 and 6, 10, 13 and 19 june 2010 another change. the female dancer is back, but during "j'adore l'avoir dans la peau" usually there are two dancers next to him mimicking playing a harp with their bodies but not this time

now the dates that matter the most i cant find a single videeooo 🤡 which are the performances in limoges (25, 26 and 27 june 2010) so all i can say is that

3 july 2010 is the first time i could find that massimiliano wasnt there. aka the degayed choreo. but i cant say if it is the first. also the original choreo for the "j'adore..." part is back again. thats the only performance they did in nancy and its also the last tour performance from 2010. a bunch of people were at the curtain call, even albert cohen was there, so its very weird that massimiliano was absent. im so mad i couldnt find those videos from late june bc all i got is just one video of him not being there, which makes me think he just couldnt be there so they had to change the choreo

9 november 2010 they are back in PDS and its the original again (also this is just for me but he still has the original cravat here. im trying to kill two birds with one stone)

2 december 2010 original (salieris beautiful cravat is gone 😔but this is one of my fave videos)

5, 11 december 2010 still the original

12 december 2010 changes again 😭 "j'adore..." harp dancers are gone again

14 december 2010 they are back <3 (funny video bc mikelangelo forgets to give florent the score)

18 december 2010 NOW HERE ITS WHERE IT GETS INTERESTING. a little change. massimiliano is there at the beginning, he drags salieri around but then hes gone before the first verse starts! and he doesnt come back !!! harp dancers are still there tho lmao

19 december 2010 massimiliano is fully gone 🎻 yamin even replaced him during la mascarade, like it happens in the 2011 proshot. i think since this date this change became the standard for a while, before they went back to the original. in the meantime, im guessing its when they shot the 2011 proshot

26 december 2010 still just the female dancer

4, 8 january 2011 still just the female dancer

9 january 2011 still just the female dancer but because it was the last performance in paris, before going on tour again, she has a whip for funsies. also they added, at the end, 2 female dancers sorta removing and quickly putting back salieris coat

28 january 2011 first tour performance, still just the female dancers. and i was not paying attention to this before, but i noticed for the first time in this video the 2 women dancing together, like they show for 2 seconds in the 2011 proshot. lesbian rights <3 i dont think it was part of the original choreo? its hard to tell exactly when they added that bc people usually record salieri, not the dancers, and hes not next to them when it happens (its before the bridge)

4, 5, 6 february 2011 still just the female dancer. but unlike before, this time (but idk exactly when it began) massimiliano was there for other parts of the show; yamin and other people didnt replace him (on the 4th: im pretty sure hes present in l'assasymphonie) (on the 5th: hes in la mascarade, le trublion, etc)

so. they really just changed it. massimiliano not being able to perform wasnt the case. we have to accept that they made a mistake <333 ldkajslk

19, 20, 27 february 2011 the original is back

19, also 19, 20, 23, 26 march 2011 it changed a little again but massimiliano is still there. no one bends salieri back and just one guy and one woman do the push and pull motion. also i think around here they removed the two women dancing together? maybe i just cant see it

20 mai 2011 original back once again

01 april 2011 .................... clearly an aprils fools joke bc massimiliano is gone again. i randomly picked this date cuz i knew it would be cursed dlkjaslk.. also again salieri doesnt get bent back and just 2 dancers do the push and pull... u knOW IT !!! WE GET IT !!!!! ok but i love him dramatically sighing and falling on the floor at @2:58 hes doing the most to make up for the flavour that got lost

03.06.2011 original again

12.06.2011 just massimiliano, no female dancer. im obsessseedddd with this video fully bc of the things massimiliano does!! obsessed with his evil smile @0:48, obsessed with salieri forgetting to throw the score on the floor, so massimiliano grabs it from his hand and forces him to kneel and stand up again. can u tell im a massimilianator and the choreo without him has no chance to please me?

17.06.2011 back to the original again

now im gonna skip to the very last performance from this production bc im honestly tired lkdajskl

10 july 2011 its the original thank god

TL;DR: 19 december 2010 is when the degayed choreo became the standard for a bit and on 19 february 2011 the original returns.

im confident that watching all those videos in a short period of time gave me brain damage but .. anything for science <3

ANYWAYS i started to do this to figure out why they changed It only to realise they changed A Lot of other things throughout performances (some things i didnt even mention, like the dance the woman does next to salieri during the first verse changes a lot) and they kept going back and forth to the original choreo. i think i can safely say not a single part (involving salieri) remained the same throughout the whole thing (not even the bending him back part was always there. i could swear it would be but!! no!). my guess is maybe because a certain dancer took a break or maybe they just wanted to do something different

in conclusion i figured out the exact dates but i cant tell u why massimiliano wasnt part of lbqfm for a while. i couldnt even find people talking about it on forums but, again, maybe bc im not fluent in french. to me it was a big loss, the whole thing loses its spice, i obviously prefer the original by miles. no idea why they simply didnt chose someone to replace him bc the other dancers changed all the time.

maybe it was in florents contract that only massimiliano was allowed to manhandle him <3 dlkjaslk im half kidding bc who knows? maybe it was a legal thing, maybe massimiliano invented this part of the choreo and only He could do it 😭 but honestly. my real final guess is that they simply wanted to change things to make it New and Fresh. as we saw, massimiliano leaving wasnt the only lbqfm choreo change.

///

moving on to L'ASSASYMPHONIE thank god bc it will be a lot easier to pinpoint when they changed the choreo. i believe they changed it and never went back to the original </3 god knows why </333 so when i find the new one ill stop looking

03.01.2010 last performance from "season one", at PDS (before going on tour) and also the last time they used the original choreo bUT ! THERES A BONUS! MORE MEN !!! LKDJALKS they said we will degay it later but u can have more naked men as a goodbye gift <3 really caught me by surprise, its the first time i watched it. but u wanna know whats really weird? this blurry shaky video is the only one i can find?! i even had to scroll a lot on youtube to get to it... conspiracy theory dove is trying to hide the original choreo. but honestly it makes no sense bc it was a Special day..... i cant find it anywhereee not even outside youtube... this is a hate crime. this is offensive. this is the heresy salieri sings about in the song.

the only thing i found was another performance from the same day but i think its the morning or afternoon performance and not the very last one. its for sure different than the one i linked first. i dont think there are 100 men onstage but at least we can see he had black nails 🥰 anyways... if anyone knows a better shot video of the very last performance... let me know... im really upsetklfdjalsjdal I FEEL SOOOO ROBBED...

and im even more mad now, remembering that from now on we get this new choreo. it began on their first tour

04.02.2010 2010 tour begins, first time we see the new choreo

and i have absolutely no idea why they changed it. again, i never saw an explanation and i dont have a single guess. i cannot imagine why they thought the new one was better. if i have to say one nice thing about it is that i like the background, the moving curtain that kinda looks like flames. they should absolutely drop the stupid flashing lights and just leave that background for the Cool effect and bRING BACK..... THE HALF NAKED BLINDFOLDED MEN (HNBM) ...........  THEY CAN REPRESENT SO MUCCHHHHHH... I LOVE THEM....

thats all i got to say otherwise ill start repeating myself.. if u wanna read more about my opinions on the hnbm and why i prefer the original l'assasymphonie choreo its all in the second link of this post..

anyways big thanks to anyone who read this, hope u enjoy all those videos. even with the dagayed choreos, florent and the dancers always deliver amazing performances. so, regardless, its a good time to watch them. lastly if anything is wrong, if i put down the wrong date or something, my bad, but it was .. a lot.. to go through, so if anyone sees a mistake let me know !

[of-daisies-and-dandelions]

Nat why and how did you just made me fall in love with ur wol in like 1 ask omg I REALLY DO TRUST HIM WITH MY LIFE NOW, WILLINGLY, BUT I WOULDN'T BC HE DOESN'T DESERVE THAT MUCH PRESSURE AFTER GOING THROUGH THAT. Instead, let me offer him a hug and some tea, please. This is so well thought, and seriously you say you have to squint but it really isn't like that, you made up an incredible independent backstory that totally ties up with the MSQ without taking anything away from it. It's insane bc we don't get too much of the personal side of WOL esp before Endwalker so the way ur story just brings so much character to him is insane to me!! I adore it!! I would also like to say that Mia? That girl? She deserves the whole world. It's such sad story but it's somewhat so comforting how it seems like she found peace in someone that knew her struggles just like Ardbert knew hers!! I love how you also grabbed the main point of endwalker and just gave it so Cain! The whole idea of him trying to find his place and I cannot believe how surreal it must have been for him to fight Zenos specifically, after everything Mia has gone through! And you don't need to apologize about anything, don't worry about the wait!! It's so worth it so I wouldn't mind on u going full details lol if u have like anything else to talk abt personality whise or lil hcs you have about him, please do. You really made me so invested in that hard-working bunny!! The whole thing about Cain not fitting vs 'now u have someone's life with you but hey you still have to find ur own purpose dummy' - must've been just too hard. He deserves a rest. Excuse me if I'm asking too much hahah this might be a long ask but I feel like his bond with Ardbert and Mia is just literally soulmates thing, even Hydaelyn, but besides that, is anyone he shares just as important bond with? Any npc or oc you can like trust to give this man a hug every once in a while? I need to know!! And please my thoughts for my bunny is just not as well thought as yours, but if you don't mind that heh I can share some hcs I have for a backstory pre ARR that I have for her!! It's a bit of generic viera bg, but I just love fran a lot hahah again THANK U FOR THE CAIN INFO! He must be protected at all costs even if he can do that himself! Such precious soul, Azem really is just the best source ♡

Your messages are adding years to my lifespan, I think about them every day,,, thank you, honestly, it means so, so much to me.

You are asking a super good question, I was itching to talk about this actually, but didnt want to add three more pages to my previous answer hahaha.

I actually have a little story for you! I usually write for myself and my partner only, I havent really worked up the courage to publish anything so far, but I really wanted to share this one with you and so I posted it on ao3 :D link is right HERE. It is pretty sad, though, so I completely understand if you do not feel like reading, but if you want more context, it is there :)

Rest is under the read more once again.

Mia had a family of her own, her partners being Diabo, a Hrothgar merchant, and Mikh, a miqo'te rascal. I used to joke with my partner about their house basically just being a giant cat nest hahaha. Eventually, Arnaud Durendaire joins in, which is a ghost of an Ishgardian dragoon. Yes, it is pretty silly, but I always loved ghosts and have a tendency to make characters of various levels of cryptid energy and obviously had to continue said tradition in FF as well xD.

Diabo basically takes him for his own and so does the rest of the family, so he is practically their son. Arnie had a shit family to begin with, the only thing his parents cared for was his success to further the family prestige, and he himself knew nothing besides training and study, before dying too young at the claws of Dravanians. In a way, Arnie got a second chance at a somewhat normal life and family and friends that really love and care about him.

From NPCS, all Scions are like an extended family to Mia, closest relationship she had was with Yda and Papalymo, because they met each other first, as well as Minfilia. Y'Shtola was basically a sister to her, until they had a falling out during Shadowbringers, because Mia thought Shtola became too ruthless and didnt agree with how she talked to Ryne especially. They made up eventually, but the strain in the relationship was still there.

G'Raha is another sibling in all but name, their relationship being extremely close.

The twins are practically her kids. They have their own rooms in their house as well. But then again, the twins are every WOL's almost kids or siblings, arent they hahaha.

Zenos is a special case. Mia always felt drawn to him, despite being unable to figure out why. She wanted to understand him, help him, in a way. It was only after he killed himself that she realized the reason was because he and she were the same in a way, two sides of the same coin. All that power, yet Zenos had noone who tempered him. Noone who cared or tried to understand. Mia was fortunate to have so many loved ones around her, that helped guide her. In a way, she saw herself in him, saw a version of herself that never got to be loved. Only after he died did she realize how awfully alone she truly was, deep down. Because noone, no matter how much they tried, could fully understand the burden and inherent loneliness of her position, noone but him, or so she thought, at least.

When Cain comes to the scene, her original family is... well things are complicated, as one would expect. Diabo shut down, not really wanting to even look at Cain because it just reminds him of everything. Mikh takes it better, eventually finding her way back to him, because, in her words, "Cain smells like Mia did."

Scions take it... well, that depends, I guess. Thancred was one of the most suspicious ones, but after realizing it was true, he warmed up to Cain a lot. In a way, he went trough similiar stuff with Ryne and Minfilia, therefore it was easier for him to relate than the rest. Thancred also has the most guilt of not protecting Mia, of failing her. Urianger saw Thancred trust Cain and so he does too, slowly.

Shtola is the hardest to come around, despite being able to see that unmistakable hue of ember in Cain's soul.

Raha tries his damndest to be supportive, but it is extremely hard for him, because after EVERYTHING they went trough, after EVERYTHING he did, he still lost her again.

The twins take it hard, because it's like losing family, but they try their best to be supportive. Alphinaud does, especially.

It is in Garlemald that Cain meets a new character, an escaped Garlean test subject, a female Viera. She has no name, only thing she was called was Project Raziel, so after Cain asks her about it, he inquires if she would want a name and offers that he could think of one for her, because she herself doesnt really care.

He settles on Carrion, the name just coming to his lips. Carrie for short. Carrie is basically Zenos in a viera body, which is hilarious, in a way, because of his already extremely weird relationship with the man. (Having to fight him again with Mia's memories and feelings and feeling the same way about him, despite wanting to punch him in the face so bad).

So, in a way, the only person who gives him hugs is Mikh, for now at least, and we love her for it.

This is Mia before and after Shadowbringers. Her eye got injured in the Shinryu fight, and it completely lost color in SHB, along with her hair. She grew her hair back after she got rid of the light, slowly, but her eye stayed white.

This is Arnaud with his Hawk companion called Talon.

Diabo and Mia

Mikh

Carrie

These characters belong to my partner :)

This is already, once again, too damn long! Thank you so much for these, truly!!! I wuv you!!!

And PLEASE, I would LOVE to read anything you have as well, anything about your bunny, her relationships and such, I am all ears.

I hope you've been keeping healthy and safe and wish you the bestest of days! ♥

[hetacon]

Prom Queen: Chapter 4

First || Previous || Next

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Word Count: 1,800

Pairings: Endgame Prinxiety, Platonic LAMP, more could be included at a later point

Warning: Swearing, small food mention, let me know if there’s anything I missed!

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Summary: “Hey Virgil, tell us about yourself, yeah?” one of the girls asked, the guy she was just talking with fixing his gaze on to Virgil too.

(Make sure to read all the way to the end if you want my thoughts so far! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, my art, or writing! Enjoy the chapter!)

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Virgil started to spend more time with the popular kids after they got back to school, something he never thought would be happening. They were gossipy and didn’t really appeal to Virgil as overall people but Roman was their friend so he started to get to know them for the sake of his best friend. He didn’t even really know them honestly, they almost never talked about themselves or their interests or anything in terms of personal information, the conversations almost consistently focused on the drama going around the school that day. There was something new every time they went over. For a solid month, he and Roman would go chat for a minute or two before going off to find Patton and Logan.

That was actually what they were just doing that day when one of Roman’s friends got Virgil’s attention.

“Hey Virgil, tell us about yourself, yeah?” one of the girls asked, the guy she was just talking with fixing his gaze on to Virgil too.

Virgil looked over to Madison if he remembered correctly, trying to hide most of his shock at the fact that she even addressed him. Not many of Roman’s friends acknowledged him much when they would go over but Virgil guessed they’d taken some interest in him. He had been coming over with Roman for quite a good while now, it figures they’d notice his presence at some point. He had to respond quick though, this chance couldn’t go to waste. “Uh, ok, what do you want to know?”

“What kind of music do you listen to?” Well, an odd question to start off with.

Virgil shrugged a bit. “Eh, just what everyone else listens to, you know? Not really anything in particular. It’s not like I really look for songs to listen to by anyone specific.”

Roman nudged him with a snort. “Since when has this ever been the case? If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re emo through and through,” he said, a certain fondness to his look. Virgil bumped his shoulder with a laugh back, fixing him with a playful glare.

“And what if I can like things that you don’t expect of me, huh?” Virgil asked with a slight tease. Roman simply raised an eyebrow but shrugged, letting the argument go without much more of a struggle. Roman wasn’t wrong though, he still listened to everything that he had before, none of it had changed despite what he said. Definitely none of what people usually listened to. He was never one to follow trends with music or otherwise and Roman unfortunately knew that.

“Do you do anything interesting?” one of the people joining the conversation asked.

“Things here and there, not exactly much. School is a drag, takes up way too much of my time to actually let me focus on anything even remotely interesting,” Virgil said calmly, trying to look casual. He hoped it was working, he felt like a nervous wreck. With a few laughs and a “Fuck yeah it is!” he mustered up the courage to add in, “I draw if that counts for anything.”

“Oh yeah? Mind if we take a look?”

Virgil nodded and rummaged through his bag, finding a leather bound book. This one happened to be his more serious one, he had another that was far more personal stashed away. Only Roman, Patton, and Logan ever saw that one, and not even in its full entirety. The personal one had gotten a lot more use than the one currently in his hands. Virgil slid the book over the table and he watched as it was opened to a page of really messy scribbles in the shape of a distraught person’s face. He’d remembered drawing that one, he was in the middle of history sophomore year having a panic attack but was too nervous to ask to step outside.

“Woah, this is cool man,” Tyler said as he looked over it, others nodding in agreement. They proceeded to flip through the pages for a bit while they took turns asking him more questions.

With so much talk, Virgil noticed Roman jump up suddenly, tugging at Virgil’s sleeve frantically. “Pat and Specs!” he explained before packing up his things frantically. “So sorry guys, I need to talk to them before we have to go to class! I’ll catch up with you tomorrow!” he shouted out as he started speed walking, Virgil in tow. Virgil barely managed to collect up his stuff before he was at Roman’s side, seeing the slightest crease between Roman’s eyebrows. As relieved as Virgil was to be away from all of the questions and potential judgement, he noticed Roman was in a big rush. He couldn’t really place why.

“Hey, you uh.. You ok? What’s up?” Virgil asked, relieved as Roman slowed down a little as they turned a corner.

“I just want to get to Pat and Specs, they’re our friends you know?” Roman asked with a bit of an edge before sighing. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to uh.. Hit it off so much with them, I usually just say a quick hello really,” he explained.

“Really? You think so?” Virgil really hoped he was impressing the popular kids, they were Roman’s friends after all. If he was having luck with them, he wasn’t going to lose Roman that easily. He couldn’t possibly do that, not when he’d already put so much at risk.

“Yeah but anyone who doesn’t like you how you are is insane,” Roman said lowly. Virgil thought he saw Roman’s jaw clench for a second but he quickly looked ahead of them as Roman glanced over.

Virgil was tackled in a hug by Patton, causing him to smile as he hugged back. He didn’t smile for long though as the bell rang, causing Roman to sigh. He looked over, laughing a little awkwardly. “Ha, sorry Ro, didn’t mean to make us so late.”

Roman shrugged. “It’s ok, just means we’ll have to get here as soon as possible tomorrow!” With that, he and Logan started to talk as they headed to class together.

Virgil watched as Roman walked away from him and Patton and he frowned slightly before Patton was nudging his shoulder and nodding his head to the direction of their classes.

Virgil nodded back and started walking, burying his hands deep into his pockets. He really wished he had his usual hoodie to pull over his head and hide from the world. His bangs would have to do, giving him a good look at the sickeningly sweet pink he’d decided on a month prior. Who let him do that again?

“Hey, you ok?” Patton asked, silently offering Virgil a cookie. Snickerdoodle today, Virgil would’ve usually loved it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Virgil told him. “I’m not hungry, thanks though.”

Patton looked at him with a worried look for a second before sighing, taking a bite of the cookie himself. “Alright Virge, if you say so. Who knows, maybe some rest is all you need, make sure you go easy on yourself!”

Virgil agreed, looking ahead of them.

He went home that day and went through the motions in a haze, glad when he finally got out of his disgustingly bright outfit. He stared blankly at the wall when he got a text from Roman.

“Hey, sorry I was so tense where we left things off.. I promise you didn’t do anything, that was all me.”

“What was up with that?” Virgil texted back.

Roman’s response took a minute before it popped up on Virgil’s screen. “I don’t know, I just didn’t expect them to really take such an interest in you. They can be a bit... Stuffy. Like, all the time, I much prefer hanging out with you, Pat, and Specs.”

“I mean, they’re your friends right? They asked me questions, I answered.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Some of your answers surprised me though lol, you are truly a dark and stormy knight after all!”

“Hey, I’m allowed to expand my tastes, aren’t I? You got me into some of your dumb musicals after all.”

“They are not dumb, take that back you jerk!”

Virgil snorted, hugging his pillow to his chest as he typed out another message. “Oh yeah? Make me, you pompous thespian drama queen.”

“I just might!”

Before Virgil could respond, Roman shot him a quick text reading “Shit, GTG, I need to run a few scenes before I sleep! Until tomorrow~!”

“Go chase your dreams of ‘professional make believe’ as Logan would say, night.”

As an afterthought, Virgil tacked on a red heart before blushing harshly, cursing into his hands. He really did that, no taking that one back now was there?

Either way, check in time. Roman was still his friend, they just had a normal conversation like two human beings ought to be able to have. While he seemed a little off-put by some of the changes Virgil was talking about, he didn’t seem to take it as a serious offense so a plus there. The clothes were horrible, Virgil still hated his hair, but he was doing this for Roman so he’d suck it up. Roman’s friends were starting to like him, they liked his art so that was good. Luckily they latched on to something he couldn’t lie about.

Just as Virgil was about to go to bed, another notification popped up on his phone, this time from an unknown number. Virgil stared at it for moment, his brow furrowed. He opened it though and read it.

“Hey Virgil, this is Madison! Got ur number from Roman’s phone lol, hope u don’t mind sweetie!”

Well, he kind of did mind but putting that aside-

“Hi, did you need anything?”

“Not rn but I might! Just wanted to have ur number just in case. Anyways, I’m going to bed, see u tomorrow!”

Virgil nodded to himself before he got one more text.

“BTW loveeeee ur artwork, keep up the good work bby!”

This was certainly... Bizarre. He didn’t expect to ever have the number of a popular girl in his phone but he never knew high school would be this insane. He’d survive this though, for Roman if nothing else. And if not, he just might lose Roman forever and never be able to forget about it for as long as he lives! Ok, breathe Virgil, breathe...

Things would work out, Virgil was going to make sure they did or die trying. Nobody, Roman included, could think to stop him now.

______________________________

More Prom Queen content huh? Anyways hey hey hey guys! How’d you like the newest chapter?

To be honest, I’m not sure how to feel about this one. I feel like all of my writings sound like they’re in an echo chamber. Like as if the events are completely isolated and don’t fit into an expansive narrative and existence. I have no idea if that makes a bit of sense, it might just be my depression tbh? It’s been kicking my butt more than usual.

But Virgil is finally getting noticed by the popular kids, woohoo! This obviously can’t go wrong! We shall see what Virgil will be getting up to with time!

As always, feel free to leave comments or send me asks and whatnot if you want to talk with me about the story! I’d love to hear from you guys!

______________________________

Taglist: @artissijules, @virgils-paranoia, @its-the-cat-queen, @myyoutubecorner, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog, @tssidesfamily, @shapa-likes-art, @isabelle-stars, @falsemood, @katlikethesword

[justletmeplayminecraft]

Shsjsj Halloween prompt 38 with architechs? They’d probably get into some scooby doo shenanigans except ghosts are real

38. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

okay so i might’ve... gone off a little bit. this is more mystery incorporated shenanigans than normal scooby. mumbo-centric, the architechs go to a haunted house that may, in fact, be haunted. mumbo pays the price.

featuring: could a visit to a haunted house go any worse, mumbo is very interesting to local ghost population, unfortunately for him, real life au, mumbo's surprisingly resourceful considering, sometimes you just need two ghost girls to tell u to get moving, angst/comfort, horror vibes, happy ending

warnings: violence, knife violence, possession, referenced murder of children and adults, graphic injuries, blood, mumbo gets a lil messed up, but nobody dies who isn’t already dead

"Why did I let you two drag me into this?" Grian is checking the time on his phone whilst Iskall holds Mumbo's hand like he's about to run off. Which, Mumbo would, actually. Given half a chance he'd be catching the first bus out of here. Iskall raises his free hand in a shrug, smirking at Mumbo's question.

"We hardly dragged you, if I remember, you agreed willingly." Iskall leans closer as he teases him, poking Mumbo's cheek with the cool finger of his prosthetic. 

Mumbo sighs, batting the finger away, "I agreed so you'd both stop asking! I didn't think we'd actually do it." Grian slips his phone into his pocket, rocking onto his heels. The look on his face is smug.

"Mumbo, you should know us better than that by now." 

Iskall hums high in agreement, "Don't tell us you're scared." 

"Lil scaredy Mumbo~." Mumbo brushes them away with a shake of his head. He can't believe he's friends with the two of them, he really can't. 

"It's a haunted house, I'm supposed to be afraid!" He points out. "Additionally, I think it's kinda bad taste to have a haunted house set in an actual haunted manor. Surely that's disrespectful." Grian pulls Mumbo's other hand free, him and Iskall holding one each. Stepping backwards as they move up the line, Mumbo frowns when his foot gets caught in the roots overwhelming mossy, cracked stone planters. He glances down the line, unsure how he didn't notice them bordering this section of the queue before.

"Mumbo, you do know there's no such thing as ghosts, right? You are aware of this fact?" Iskall's voice, despite its taunting nature, has a hint of seriousness to it. Mumbo's attempt at a word disintegrates into several noises instead. Of course, that only encourages Iskall to laugh, throwing his head back at the force of it. Grian slides up to Mumbo's shoulder, bumping into it.

"It's okay, Mumbo, we'll protect you from the spooky ghosts!" Grian sing-songs 'spooky' for extra effect. That effect is making Mumbo want to hit him. Unfortunately, he can't, because they're both still holding his hands. Mumbo stares into the cold fluorescent lights instead, ignoring them. Grian laughs, Iskall quick to join him.

Mumbo will give it to the organisers, they know how to set a scene. Outside of the bustling noise and lights of the queue, the grounds are as black as the night sky overhead. The overgrown lawn brushes the stone foundation they're waiting on; blades of grass occasionally tickling his ankle as he shuffles from foot to foot. His shoes are still muddy from when they were queuing on the lawn further back. He's glad they got off that section. If he had to listen to Grian and Iskall guess what shape the topiaries used to be for much longer he would've gone insane. Another scream from within the house makes him jump, gripping Iskall's hand tighter out of instinct. Iskall throws him a smirk, and blessedly doesn't comment. Small miracles. 

"We're nearly at the entrance!" Grian whispers, voice high with excitement. His fingers trace the stone wall of the house as they move. They lift when he reaches the wooden trim of a boarded up window, paint flaking under Grian's touch. He cringes, flicking the dried paint off his skin. Mumbo smiles to himself and pretends not to look. 

"After what, an hour and a half?" Iskall asks, his voice as tired as Mumbo's feet feel. Grian checks his phone with a hum.

"More like an hour and a quarter." The bright screen lights his face with an eerie glow until he shuts it off. Iskall sighs, the dramatic nature overtaken by a piercing scream that sounds like it's on the other side of the wall next to them. The three of them freeze up, before they shake their heads with gentle laughter, normal conversation resuming.

"Have we got any signal yet?" Iskall asks. 

"Nope!" Grian pops the word. At Iskall's groan, he laughs. "It's not my fault you're so addicted to social media."

"Not everybody can be so dedicated to our jobs," Iskall replies. Mumbo finds himself distracted by something out in the darkness of the lawn. It looks like two children, running in circles after each other. Their dresses look wholly impractical for the chill in the air. And too fancy for the muddy grass. Who would bring their children to a haunted house anyway? Staff members, maybe? Irresponsible parents?

His foot catches on a crack in the concrete, stumbling forward instead of a step. Iskall steadies him with the grip on his hand and Grian is quick to grab his shoulders. The two of them haul him upright again. Grian's smile is more amused than Iskall's concerned frown.

"You alright, dude?" He asks, checking Mumbo over carefully. Mumbo shakes his head, trying to dispel Iskall's worry.

"No, I'm fine. Foot got caught. I was watching the kids out on the-" Where he's pointing is empty. There are no white flashes of fabric where the children were, only the dark murkiness of night. "Oh. Well, they were there." Grian stares out into the lawn, skeptical.

"You sure you weren't seeing things, Mumbo?" Grian's voice is disbelieving, an edge of teasing slipping in.

"No, I- I swear they were right there. Two girls." He blinks, unsure where the two must have gone. He wasn't looking away for that long, but children are pretty fast.

"Maybe you saw some ghosts," Iskall joins the teasing. Mumbo huffs at them both, crossing his arms now Iskall has finally released his hand. 

"You two are the worst," he decides. 

"Spooky!" Grian sings, pulling himself onto Mumbo's shoulder as they step forward again. He feels a heavy relief as they finally round the corner and the dark porch comes into view. It looks like it's been restored, the paint on the wood shiny compared to the rest of the house. Although looking towards the roof of the porch, those metal spikes should've been left out. Someone could hurt themselves on those. Thankfully, the window above is boarded up.

"Finally," Iskall sighs, his shoulders slumping as the ticket checker comes into view. "Grian, you got them ready?" Grian hums, unzipping his coat pocket and pulling out the printed tickets. 

"Right here!" He holds them up proudly. Mumbo twists around to see the ticket man. The clothes look pretty authentic. A neat waistcoat, a chain coming from the pocket, well-fitting slacks. A couple passes their tickets over, smiling as he takes them. Then the man takes out a straight-up pocket watch. They're… Really going for this, aren't they? Mumbo sticks his own hands in his jean pockets. He prefers modern comforts. 

There are only a few more people ahead of them now. Mumbo shifts from foot to foot, his toe catching on the red carpet leading inside. He sighs. He's doomed to trip over everything tonight, isn't he? He looks up to find Grian looking at him, excitement in his expression. He tries to smile back, moving up to a drawn line on the carpet. There's nobody else in front of them now. Oh, they're actually doing this.

Upon a wave from the staff member, the trio heads up to the rope barrier. Past the entrance, the hallway splits into two, wooden signs marking each way. Yet, Mumbo can't help but be drawn to the bored-looking staff member as he holds his hand out. His eyes are a pale blue, almost white. Mumbo shudders when those eyes stare directly at him. He's quick to look away. This place is getting to him. Grian enthusiastically passes over their tickets, oblivious to the exchange beside him. 

"Three adults," he says. The man nods, looking over each ticket and checking the time on his pocket watch. He punches a hole through the corner of each one before handing them back. 

"Keep your tickets on you in case they need to be checked." Grian nods, giving Mumbo and Iskall their own ticket. Mumbo slips it into his pocket without checking. He printed them out earlier today at Grian's pestering. "And you'll need to leave your bag in the cloakroom, sir." The staff member gestures at the brown rucksack on Iskall's back. Iskall puts a hand on the strap, the bag containing their personal belongings. "It's a secure locker system, you only have to give them to the staff member there and you'll receive a wristband." They gesture down the second corridor, away from the queue and the noise.

"I can take it," Mumbo suggests. He could use a breather before they head into the attraction. Usually, he'd find his friends' excitement contagious, but right now it's only leaving him more unsettled. Iskall loosens the strap, sliding it off his back.

"You sure you won't get lost the moment we aren't holding your hands?" Iskall teases as he hands the bag to him. Mumbo rolls his eyes, slinging it over one of his shoulders. 

"Surprisingly, I don't think I'll get lost simply going up a corridor." Grian steps forward, unbuttoning his red coat to reveal the just as red jumper underneath.

"Can you take my coat too?" Mumbo lays it over one of his arms, watching Grian grin. "Thanks, Mumbo, love you." Mumbo shakes his head, already taking a step towards the separate corridor and past the now-open rope barrier. 

"I'll meet up with you guys in a minute," he tells them, precious cargo in hand. Grian and Iskall smile, Iskall offering a wave as they go ahead to join up with the queue.

"We won't go in without you!" Grian calls. Mumbo huffs a laugh.

"I'd prefer it if you did!" He calls in return. He watches until the two vanish behind the wall, their giggles merging into the crowd. The couple behind them are already joining the queue. Mumbo sighs, turning and checking the neat wooden sign before heading up the corridor. He's definitely going the right way. 

Metal sconces light the wall, a dim light against dark, ornate wallpaper. He doesn't realise how quiet it's grown until he can hear the wooden floor creak beneath the carpet. He cringes at the sound, pleased when he reaches another rope, blocking off the corridor and directing him into a smaller room. He looks around at the wooden bookshelves, a cushioned seat in the corner. Another staff member (he hopes) leans on a doorway inside, reading a hardcover book. Mumbo hesitates before he approaches.

"Hey, uh, are you taking the bags? For the cloakroom?" Dark eyes look up to him. It's a woman this time, hair tied back into a neat ponytail. She's also wearing a waistcoat, Mumbo assumes it must be their uniform.

"That would be me," the woman tells him, placing her book on the side table. Mumbo passes over the bag and coat, shrugging off his own to add to them. She disappears into the back room. Mumbo tries to peer in, but it's so dark he can't see anything. How can she tell where she's going? She comes back, presenting him with a wristband, an intricate pattern on both sides of the plastic. Mumbo takes it, frowning as he twirls it in his hand. 

"Doesn't it have a number on it?" He asks, a little curious about what kind of system they're using here. The woman shrugs her shoulder.

"Doesn't need one," she tells him. She reaches over to pick up her book again, flicking it open. "Have a nice stay." Mumbo's mouth remains open for a few seconds too long before he realises he's been dismissed. At least this will make an interesting story to tell the other two. He steps back into the corridor, focusing on slipping the wristband on. Then he looks up and stops. The rope barrier is gone. For a moment he's unsure if he imagined it, but he's certain that there was a barrier here. And a sign. Glancing into the room, the staff member is gone too. Okay, right. He can figure this out.

He looks down both sides of the hallway, trying to guess what direction he came from. They're identical, carpeted floor and metal sconces leading off into darkness. Even the panelling on the wall below the patterned wallpaper offers no clues. With a sigh, he sticks his hands into his pockets, resting over his phone. Listening, the manor is quiet. He can't hear the occasional screaming, although there's some creaking overhead. Helpful. Well, it was just a straight walk to the entrance, wasn't it? He can follow the corridor and come back if he notices something unfamiliar.

His steps are more cautious as he starts down the hall. He's never going to hear the end of it if he actually gets lost. Certainly not down a straight corridor. He'd like to keep his dignity tonight, please. Whatever is left of it. Except, he's fairly certain the hall wasn't this long. Nor did he notice this musty smell until now. He touches a finger to his nose, scrunching it up. It smells like wet paper. Or… something like that, at least. 

Giving up on this direction, he turns and goes the other way. From the outside, the manor didn't even look this big. This time, he takes more note of the closed doors lining the hall. The wooden frames match the doors, with a carved arch above each one. He pauses to look at the sculpted wood. A shield sits on top of twisted ribbon, although whatever was on the shield has been scratched off to reveal pale wood beneath. He walks to the next door only to find the same thing. Somebody didn't like the family coat of arms, then. It's the same down the entire corridor - the wood broken and splintered away. 

He nearly jumps when he finds himself back in the entrance hall. The front door is shut. Mumbo didn't think this shut until later? Maybe they hit capacity. He tilts his head in the direction of the queue, surprised when he hears silence. Surely Grian and Iskall would be waiting for him somewhere, right? That same ticket person with the spooky eyes is at the door. Mumbo steels himself before approaching him.

"Um, sir?" He gets no response from the man. He stares at the door as if Mumbo hadn't spoken. Mumbo closes the distance, coming up behind him. "Excuse me?" He reaches out to tap his shoulder, wondering if he's wearing headphones Mumbo hasn't spotted. 

Mumbo's fingers go straight through his shoulder.

There's a brief, still second where nothing moves. Mumbo stares at his hand in shock, hanging inside the now transparent arm. His mouth opens, brain desperately trying to catch up with this new situation. The rest of his body kicks in, pulling him away, clutching his hand like he's been burnt. His fingers are freezing, colder than they were after being stood in that queue. In a panic, he glances upwards, searching for a projector of some kind. 

"It has to be," he murmurs. His gentle voice feels so loud in the entrance. Like laughter in a graveyard. He didn't see the floor up above the first time he entered, or the huge black chandelier that seems to be waving in an absent breeze. There's no tell-tale flicker of a projector. Oh jeez. He turns back to the door.

Those eyes are right in front of him.

A shout gets caught in his throat, body tumbling over and into the wall behind him in his attempt to fling himself away. His fingers press into the carpet beneath him, legs shuffling backwards until his back is straight against the wall. The man is still walking towards him and Mumbo genuinely thinks his heart couldn't beat harder if it tried.

"Sir, I am so sorry, I'm a little lost right now and- oh goodness I put my hand through your shoulder, what is happening-?" Whether the man hears him or not is impossible to tell, but Mumbo has a sinking feeling nothing good is going to happen if he touches him. He's only getting closer and Mumbo is running out of options here.

A few things happen in quick succession.

First, the man reaches his hand out towards Mumbo, lips pulling into an unnaturally wide smile on a face that has only seemed disinterested until now. Second, Mumbo throws himself to the side, landing on his hands on the carpet beside him and trying to scramble to his feet. Third, the room plunges into darkness.

Mumbo falls straight into the wall, nails scratching the wood to pull himself up. He can't make out anything. He feels around him blindly, finding an empty space and taking quick, clumsy steps into it. He blinks hard. Once, twice. The world is still dark. Except, as he raises his arm to feel in front of him again, except for that wristband. 

He presses against the wall, checking from side to side as if he could see any threat coming for him. Convincing himself he's at least somewhat safe, he examines the wristband. The strange pattern in the plastic is glowing. It's literally glowing. He traces along the indent first, but can't spot any hidden LEDs. Then he tries to take the band off. The band does not come off.

"Oh, this is ridiculous." He can't even fit his nails underneath the plastic. This has to be a joke, right? Some kind of big misunderstanding? He fumbles in his pocket until he's pulling out his phone, even more relieved now that he didn't leave it in his coat. The screen lights up, making his hands silver in its glow. It's nearly midnight. He groans in frustration when he remembers that, of course, there's no signal. Not even for emergency calls. He's an idiot. Unlocking the screen, he goes to the one thing his phone can be useful for.

He hovers over the button before switching on the flashlight, chest tight until he confirms there's no man (ghost, was that a ghost? It can't be-) waiting for him. He swings the light around him nervously, trying to figure out where he is. He doesn't even remember entering a door, but it seems like he's in a living room of some kind. There's a stone fireplace in the wall, comfortable chairs and a large love seat. Lingering on the fireplace, he's distracted from the stonework by the charred wood and ash gathered at the bottom. There's still a hint of amber in the embers, letting off so little light it's barely noticeable. Was it on recently? He doesn't feel it in the air, his arms having broken into goosebumps under his dress shirt. 

The other people waiting for the attraction can't have moved too far, and Grian and Iskall should be with them. He takes a deep breath, calming his thoughts and steadying himself. Yeah. He just needs to find everyone else. They should have lights, and people, and hopefully staff members he doesn't put his hand through. Perfect. 

He creeps to the doorway, careful to shine his phone through it first. The hallway looks identical. Though, when he looks closer, it's in better condition to the other side. Towards the ceiling, where wallpaper was ripped to show the broken plasterboard beneath, it's immaculate. He catches the shine of wood over the door. The coat of arms is intact. He takes in the dragon on the shield. It's pretty cool, he wonders why it was broken in the other hall. 

Only when he's sure the hallway is safe does he continue down it. He guesses how far away the queue must be. Worst case, they've taken them somewhere safe and out of the way. Hopefully Grian and Iskall have raised the alarm for him. He's keeping an eye out for any staff members or… anyone, actually. He'd just like to see another person in the darkness.

He cringes as a creak pierces the air, lifting his foot quickly. He hates old houses. He hates them so much. As he hovers his phone over it, though, the carpet even looks fluffy. That's absurd. He shakes it off and attempts to tread lighter, the little it helps. His creaking steps and soft breaths are the only things he can hear. He'd think as he got closer to the others, he might hear them but there's nothing so far. It's unnerving. As if he isn't unnerved enough. 

He stops so quickly he nearly loses his footing at a flash of white down the hallway. He holds the light over the open doorway. It wasn't the right height to be that man. Perhaps another person? He steps forward, attempting to peek into the room.

He calls a nervous, "Hello?" Then realises he sounds like every white person in a horror movie. He stills when a face peers around the door. It's one of the children from earlier. This close, the girl is unnaturally pale, with almost a glow to her. Mumbo relaxes a little anyway, relieved to see a kind of familiar face. He crouches down to her height. "Hey, do you know where anyone is? Your parents maybe? I'm a little lost." She edges out from behind the door, neat white dress following her. It's lacy around the top, a line towards the bottom marking out wavy fabric around her feet. Which, he notices, don't have any shoes on.

When she speaks, it's with a gentle echo, like a song, "You can see me?" Mumbo frowns, watching her small hand push away some of the tight waves that have fallen from her braid.

"Yes? Why wouldn't I-" He's cut off when the girl's mouth drops open. She steps away from him, taking a deep breath. Mumbo's not sure what he's done wrong when she screams. He has to raise his hands to his ears, flinching at the high sound. Despite his phone's light pointing away, he can still see her clearly. Especially as she turns and runs. Straight… straight through a wall. Mumbo would very much like off this ride now. He pushes himself upright on his knees and freezes. He can feel something staring at him. She wasn't reacting to him, was she? Brandishing his phone in front of him, he spins, dragging his feet down the corridor. 

The man is walking slowly towards him. One foot after the other. Purposeful. Mumbo shivers, can't look into those eyes.

"What do you want?" He demands. "I'm honestly very confused right now, and I'd really like some answers." He walks backwards, keeping distance between them both. 

"It's been a long time since we've had a guest like you." Mumbo swears that voice wasn't so deep before. It's almost static around the edges, hurting Mumbo's ears. "You'll make a wonderful addition to the house." Mumbo pulls himself up taller, straightening his back.

"That's- that's a really nice offer but I'm really, very happy with my current job! I'm sorry but I'm not on the market right now!" There's no break in pace. Only the return of that smile, looking too big, too tight. Like the face it's on isn't made for it. 

"I think your spirit would be perfect to mould." The words make Mumbo's chest seize in terror. He doesn't need to understand the full implication behind them to realise that's not good. 

"Okay. Don't really want that. If you could just- I don't know, let me leave? Find my friends?" That is not the face of someone who's going to let him leave. His back knocks into a wall. He glances around him, panic consuming any rational thought. He's breathing too fast but it feels like he isn't breathing at all. There, next to him. Wooden stairs, twisting up into darkness. He looks at the approaching man and the hall he's backed into. There's nowhere else to go.

He leaps the first two stairs, one of his hands catching himself on the wood to push himself up. The light around him swings wildly as he struggles to keep his phone steady. Using his hand and feet, he scarpers to the landing, falling back onto carpet edged with small metal grippers, shaped like studded semi-circles. He drags himself up using the wall, swaying on his feet and taking deep breaths.

The man doesn't suddenly appear behind him, but Mumbo isn't taking any chances. He searches the immediate area and finds only one direction available. He hopes the others are nearby and runs down the hallway, hoping to put as much distance between him and that man as possible. There are no lights on up here either, but as he gets around, he realises that the windows aren't boarded up. Instead, a full moon shines bright silver light into the manor. Mumbo checks the time on his phone as turns off the torch. He needs to save battery.

It's nearly midnight. His lip twists. Did he read it wrong before? He must have. He was panicking. It makes sense. He's still got plenty of charge too, which is a relief. However, his hope that the change in height would give him service is quickly dashed. Obviously, he can't have too many good things. 

He comes to a stop upon reaching a branch in the hallway. There are two directions he could go. Neither has an obvious sign stating, 'This way!' It would've been nice. So he picks the left for no other reason than maze logic. Always follow the left wall. It also seems more lit up, which is vastly preferable to the darkness in other parts of the manor. It smells less of dust up here, too. He can smell something distantly flowery. Maybe the garden is in better condition than the front lawn? 

Since he's on the top floor, he takes the opportunity to look into some of the rooms. Mostly bedrooms, he notices. A lot of the beds are pristinely made, sheets looking like they've been washed recently. In one room there's a half-full glass on a nightstand. In another, a cup of tea sends twisted patterns of steam into the freezing air. Mumbo enters that room, curious if anybody's nearby. There are more signs of life on this floor. He's taking in the four-poster bed with fabric tied to the posts when he hears distant singing.

He turns towards the sound automatically, hands falling heavy by his sides. Singing, that must mean a person. He leaves the room, following the sound. The haunting notes fill his head in the silence through the manor. Each step brings him closer to the source, losing sight of the space around him. He vaguely notices his fingers slipping from his phone, and pushes the device into his pocket instead. His fingers fall limp once he does.

The room he enters is another bedroom. The bed is the largest he's seen so far, but besides the singing, all he takes in is the scent of lavender. Taking over his senses, soothing his thoughts into a quiet hum. Both the song and the lavender are coming from a woman, sitting in front of her vanity as she brushes long, dark hair. Mumbo takes small steps towards her before stopping, waiting in place. He remains there, watching, letting her song fill his head until there are no thoughts of his own left.

The click of her hairbrush on the vanity marks the end of the song. The woman stands, every movement poised, as she walks towards the silent Mumbo. His eyes are partially closed, head falling forward with his shoulders. She reaches under his chin, ice-cold fingers tilting his face towards her. Their eyes meet, dark brown into light, glassy blue.

"Oh, you poor thing." Her words have a similar song-like quality, dripping with sadness. "You must be so lost." Mumbo's eyes grow heavier as her other hand cups the back of his head, holding him still in front of her. "Rest, now. Rest and I'll make it all better." His eyes slip shut, mind falling completely silent.

When they open again, he's in front of a circular window. He steps towards it automatically. He wants to see his garden before he goes to bed. It looks so pretty in the nighttime. The moon shines cold light onto his face, the glow of the glass enchanting.

Nothing prepares him for the shove. His spine shouts in pain as the world shifts beneath him. Gravity changes and he raises thin arms to protect himself, his feet unable to find the ground. Glass shatters against his weight in a cacophony of noise and he's falling- the porch rushing to meet him, no longer decorative black spikes he can't bear to look at growing closer as he shuts his eyes-

Mumbo gasps as his eyes shoot open. He's leaning out of the shattered window, gusts of wind streaking through his hair, pinning his shirt to his body. The moon in front of him is bright, catching on the splintered glass in the window frame. Every breath feels heavy in his lungs, his entire body shivering in the chill of the air. Outside, the lawn is… Different. The grass is immaculate, flowerbeds blossoming in a way that still tugs at some part of his mind he's not convinced is his own. The once-broken planters along the pathway are shining in the glow of the moon, not a crack to be found. He can only glance at the spikes on the porch, pain stabbing through his chest and arms at the sight. And the queue, where's the queue?

He attempts to stumble away, hissing as he lifts his hands and finds thick lines of blood. How did he not feel that before? He looks at the glass shards where his hands were just resting. In fact, how didn't he feel the tugging pressure on either side of his shirt, or see the pale faces watching him-?

He screams. The girls let go of his shirt as he backs into the wall, pressing his bleeding palms flat against the panelling. They watch, making no move towards him. Simply watching. Mumbo's strength finally gives up and he sinks down the wall until he hits the ground. Burying his face into his knees, he takes a few seconds to just breathe. The girls are still watching him when he looks back up, twin faces expressionless.

"What do you want from me?" He asks, voice cracking in spite of his best efforts. The girls look at each other, expressions becoming almost… Remorseful? 

"We want to help you," one says. She's taller, hair tied into a ponytail by a simple ribbon. 

"You shouldn't be here," the other tells him. The one from before, with the untidy braid. "He's trapped you here." Mumbo presses his clenched fists against his face, making a soft whine that sounds pathetic to his own ears. 

"Who is he? What is going on? I'm just-" He runs out of words to say. The shorter girl looks down the hallway. They exchange another look and the taller holds a hand out, encouraging him up. 

"We should go to our room."

"You get affected by her." Mumbo looks at the empty window in front of him. The glass shards taunt him, memories that aren't quite his own mingled with stinging palms. He pushes himself onto his feet. What other option does he have? He's lost, he's freezing, he's scared. When this day started, he didn't think he'd be taking comfort in two ghost girls. But here he is. 

"Okay. Okay, I'll follow you." The taller girl takes Mumbo's hand. Her touch is like cold velvet against his already freezing skin. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he lets the pair lead him. Away from the broken window and the lingering scent of lavender. Further into the house with more direction than he's had since he arrived. The shorter girl skips ahead, peeking around doors and corners before gesturing them on. 

They come to a stop in a bedroom. It's pretty. That's the best way he can think to describe this room. The curtains are drawn, frills down to the floor. A dollhouse sits in the corner of the room beside the bed, dolls still, as if caught in time. And two twin beds. They're unmade yet a pristinely bright white. Besides dark spots on the edges of the pillows where the covers are drawn back, marking each bed. A glistening red, matching the deep cuts on his hands-

"Is that blood?" He hisses, freezing in place. The taller girl turns to look at him, tilting her head.

"This is our bedroom," she says it as if that should answer all of his questions. It does not. Not at all.

"But- Why is there blood?" He gestures at the stained sheets. His hand is released as both girls enter the room. The shorter girl picks up a discarded teddy from the floor.

"This is where we died," the taller tells him, jumping up and sitting on the bed. Her dress falls delicately around her, blending in with the covers. The shorter girl pushes herself up, sitting so they both face him. Mumbo stares. He hates to admit it, but he just stares. He understood, logically, they had to be dead. He saw one of them run through a wall. But hearing them say it, so simply? How is he supposed to react to that? 

"Died- right-" He hides his face, trying to keep himself calm. "You're ghosts. Of course. That-" Something else clicks, "Blood. There's blood. You two-"

"Murdered," the shorter one says.

"By him. Our father," the taller adds. Mumbo looks at them both closely. They look so small. 

"You- that's so much blood." The taller girl looks at the patch, she reaches out, scraping her finger against the stain. "You don't look like it." 

"We choose not to." Mumbo blinks and suddenly the girls have blood streaming from their necks and staining their dresses, the skin torn almost all the way through-

He blinks again and it's gone, along with his breath. There are just two girls with skin nearly as pale and flawless as their white dresses. He raises a hand to his mouth, unsure if he wants to be sick or cry. They're just- they're so young.

"It's okay," the shorter girl tells him. She's crossed her legs, her teddy sat in the middle. "We were sleeping. We didn't feel it." Mumbo can barely look at them without seeing the red. 

"Oh- oh, I feel sick." There's nowhere in the room for him to sit, so he settles for the floor. His legs shake as he lowers himself, finally dropping with a thud. The girls look down at him, always watching. It's as if he's something fascinating to them. Those bright eyes examine his every movement.

"Our father is the one who trapped you here," the taller girl tells him. "We're all trapped here. Our family, and the people he's got since." 

"The people he's got since?" Mumbo questions, the implication of that hitting him like a truck. "Like me?" They both nod.

"It used to be explorers," she speaks like she's telling a story, her words weaving pictures in Mumbo's mind, "most of them came and went. We'd watch them as they flashed their big boxes or tubes."

"But some of them could see us," the shorter one calls, face brightening in genuine excitement.

"Those were the ones he trapped. We'd listen to them scream and then they were trapped, like us." Mumbo's fingers unconsciously reach for his phone, holding it tight for comfort. Maybe he should write a message. Texts that won't send. Some sorries and 'I love you's. 

"Why are you telling me this?" He asks. "You're trapped here too." They turn to each other, smiling with slight nods.

"We decided to help," the taller one says.

"You were nice," the smaller continues. Mumbo holds his arm up, looking at the wristband. It continues glowing. He gives it a cursory push. Still no give. He’s so lost.

"How do you plan on doing that?" He asks. They turn to each other as their faces scrunch up. 

"We're not sure." 

"We've never done this before." Mumbo groans, sinking back until he's lying on the carpeted floor. His hand presses into his face until he grimaces at the sticky, congealing blood. 

"I'm going to die here," he murmurs. "I'm going to die here because apparently, I can see ghosts and my friends dragged me to a haunted house! I'm going to die!" He flashes his phone screen on, wishing for something. A message, a hint of signal and not the time, still showing it's right before midnight. Not that. The only one out of the three he gets. His hands sting more at the stretch of movement. 

"Are you finished?" He yelps when he lowers the phone and finds both girls standing over him. His arms are above his face as protection before he processes what's happening. He reveals a sliver of vision between his pale forearms. They're frowning.

"You're not going to escape by having a tantrum on the floor," the shorter tells him, her voice sharp as a teacher's. He's going to die and his last memories are going to be of dead children scolding him like he's one of them. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. 

"Come on. Let's go." Small hands tug at him as they attempt to pull him upright. It feels as effective as he is when he's stayed up too late, about to pass out standing up. "Do you want to be stuck here forever? Don't you have a family to go back to?" And Mumbo does. He has his family and-

"My friends. I came here with two friends." Grian and Iskall, what would they think? Would they even find a body, or would Mumbo have walked down that hallway and simply vanished? His mind rushes with questions that he doesn't want answers to. He doesn't want to see his friends search for him. He doesn't want to see them mourn. 

"Well, get up then. Let's go." The shorter girl claps for emphasis. This time, Mumbo does, using his arm as a pillar despite how it hurts. 

"I think," the taller declares, "we should try to get you outside. That's got to work, right?" Her questioning tone leaves Mumbo less than optimistic, but it's not as if he has any other options. 

"But that means going downstairs," the shorter girl whispers it like the words have weight. 

"Downstairs?" Mumbo echoes.

"That's where he is." The taller girl is already walking ahead, taking Mumbo's hand as she does. "But how else are we going to get outside?" 

"A window?" The shorter suggests. She takes Mumbo's other hand, the pair of them taking the lead with no option but to follow. They continue their discussion around him.

"No. The only open one is mother's and he can't go near it again. She's stronger than us, we nearly lost him before." Mumbo isn't sure how he feels about being discussed like this. They're leaning forwards as they walk, looking at each other. Yet they're leading him down the halls still. Walking blindly through the maze that had Mumbo so lost like it’s effortless. 

"The front door is shut too." The shorter has her face scrunched up, dark hair falling into it again. "We're not strong enough to open it." 

"The garden, then."

"That door was shut too." Their gentle bickering reminds him of Grian and Iskall. Silently, he accepts his fate. He's putting his life in the hands of two girls that have no idea what they're doing. Children. He is completely and utterly screwed. He's never going to hear Iskall and Grian bicker again. His hand twitches with the urge to wipe away what might be tears stinging his eyes. Little fingers hold on tighter.

The halls all blend together the longer they walk. They fall into a single file line, the taller girl leading. Only his footsteps make a sound - muted thuds through the house, less creaks now he has two people guiding him. Mumbo's in awe at the size of the manor. He allows that to occupy his mind for a little while. How would you even fill half of these rooms? They must have had servants for cleaning. In its day, this must've been an incredible place to grow up. Now, it's a prison. It's likely going to be his prison. The manor loses some grandeur at that thought. 

The taller releases his hand and leans forward, sticking her upper body straight through a wall. Mumbo blinks. He's never going to get used to that. She steps away, nodding at them both. 

"It's empty." The shorter girl nods in return, the pair sneaking around the partially closed door. Mumbo follows, ducking into a small, twisting, wooden staircase. The girls are skipping down the stairs, leaning on the central column to peer around. They glance at him occasionally, as if checking he's still there. Mumbo makes sure he's in their sight, feet struggling to fit on the stairs. This staircase wasn't made for somebody as tall as him.

Towards the bottom, he can pick up on a distinct noise slicing through the silence. The two girls have paused at the exit to the stairs, listening. It’s a harsh scrape, splintering underneath. Terror catches Mumbo's heart, the beat jumping in his ears. Is somebody destroying the house? What is that? 

"He's doing it again," the shorter comments, her face and voice grumpy. Mumbo is about to ask what he's doing, but the pair are already determinedly walking ahead. He'll defer to the experts.

"That's the only way to the entrance," the taller says, her gentle features pinched in thought. It's not directed at him. The words sink in anyway.

"We have to go past him?" He asks, continuing to follow despite his poor instincts trying to protect him. Their faces are set in grim determination.

"Yes." 

Mumbo has to fight to find words, "That's- that's a terrible idea! He wants to kill me." He presses his fist against his chest at the thought. One near death experience would be enough for one night. He's had several!

"He's already killed us," the shorter helpfully reminds him. Mumbo squeezes his eyes shut to calm down.

"We can figure it out," the taller replies. Honestly, Mumbo would just like to curl up in a corner and fade out of existence. That would be far preferable to this. But, he's already come this far, and they're both looking at him expectantly. 

"Planning," he suggests, "we could come up with a plan." They exchange looks.

"Planning's for adults," the taller decides. The shorter girl is already running ahead, scouting their path out. Mumbo makes a particularly undignified noise.

"I'm an adult!" He calls. His statement is ignored. The girls are storming ahead with a determination Mumbo wishes he had. Maybe there are some advantages to being dead. It's not like anyone can kill you again. Can they? 

The girls come to a stop in front of a corner. The taller puts her fingers on her lips. The harsh scraping is louder, vibrating through the walls. Mumbo can hear thuds, softened by the carpet. He clutches one of his hands tight to his chest. The gashes have nearly stopped bleeding. His entire palm is stained red - he's surprised he's not left marks on the house or the girls. Just another weird thing to keep track of.

The shorter girl pulls him closer, encouraging him to look around the corner. It's the same man as before, that's for certain. His appearance has changed, once tidy hair unkempt, waistcoat undone and torn. Mumbo flinches as a knife glints in the darkness. The man lunges forward, stabbing the blade into the wood above the door and prying at the carving, splintering wood around him. His focus is immovable as he drives the knife in further. Mumbo winces.

A tug on his shirt brings him to attention. The taller girl is pointing to something in the darkness. It hits Mumbo that he can barely see. He's been so reliant on the natural glow from the two girls, he forgot it's pitch black down here. He has no idea what she's pointing at or any idea how to articulate that. With one hand, he covers his eyes, shaking his head. When he looks again, the two girls are frowning, looking at each other. Finally, they nod. The shorter darts to the other side of the hall, vanishing into the wall. 

Mumbo watches in confusion until in the darkness of the hall, a doorway is lit up by her silhouette. Her cheeks are scrunching up her eyes as she grins. The taller girl turns to him, a question in her eyes. Mumbo nods, offering a thumbs up. She nods back, checking the position of her father. Then she points, mouthing a clear, 'Go.'

Mumbo takes the chance, transferring his weight to his toes. He waits for the sound of the knife hitting wood before running, feet light across the carpet until he reaches the doorway, falling into the room. Both girls are waiting for him. The shorter girl pokes her head out, returning with a big grin. Mumbo releases his breath, sinking onto the wall beside the doorframe. One stage closer. He allows himself a hint of relief, hope within reach. If they're patient, they should make it. He checks his phone. Still nearly midnight. They've got time.

The taller girl vanishes through one of the walls. Mumbo stays put, waiting for his next instruction. Sure, they'll have to figure out what to do next. But if he gets through this, Mumbo thinks he could do anything. 

He makes it to the next room, using the sound of the knife against wood and the glow of the girls to guide him. The man is close now. Mumbo breathes lightly, body tensed. The scraping stops. The three wait for it to start up again so they can decide their next move. 

Instead, the knife stabs through the wall with a loud yell, inches away from Mumbo's head.

Mumbo realises the shout was his own, throwing himself away from the wall and falling against a velvet chair. He manages to keep himself upright on shaky hands, twisting to face the door. The girls have twin looks of terror. Mumbo presses against the wall away from the door, a glowing silhouette blocking out the creeping darkness. 

"There you are." The man walks in. The knife is armed in his hand. "I knew I could smell something alive around here." To Mumbo's surprise, the taller girl gets in front of him, digging her hands into his hips. The man stops.

"Let him go!" She orders, stomping her foot. The shorter girl stands beside her, crossing her arms. They form a protective wall in front of Mumbo. His heart aches. The man, their supposed father, only scowls.

"Begone, brats." Mumbo feels the air shift. The girls look at each other in horror before they vanish, leaving the room empty. Nothing in-between Mumbo and the man and the knife.

"What did you do to them?!" He demands, his arms raised protectively. He tries to look around for the girls but he can't take his eyes off the man in front of him.

"I sent them away." The man steps forward. He taps the knife in his hand. The metal glints in his glow. Maybe, just maybe, the knife won't be able to hurt him. Please. "It'll take a while until they can manifest again."

"How can you-" Mumbo reaches for his hair but flinches as the strands irritate his hand. "You're sick. How can you do this to them? They're children!" The man continues forward. That knife is too close, way too close. He'd prefer it if it was on the other side of the house, in fact.

"They were going to leave me." Mumbo stumbles backwards as if the words sent off a shockwave. "Just like you're trying to." 

"They had every reason to!" Mumbo argues. He- he murdered them. He wants to do the same to Mumbo! "And I'm quite attached to my life as well!" 

"You signed your life away already." Mumbo jumps to the side away from the swing of the knife. "You've been carrying the contract in your pocket the entire time." Mumbo knows his confusion is showing on his face. All he has in his pockets is his phone. His phone and- 

"This?" Mumbo drags the ticket free of his pocket, brandishing the crumpled paper in front of the man like a weapon. It looks ordinary. One adult, entrance to the manor, on today's date. The hole is still punched in the corner. 

"It never said anything about leaving." Mumbo's heart drops at the words. Of course it didn't. That's- that's never written into websites or tickets. He wouldn't look for it because it's not like he ever expects this to happen. 

"Well-" he grabs both ends of the ticket, tearing it in two with a satisfying rip, "-I void that contract. I don't agree." Nothing happens. The man's face shifts to one of amusement before he barks out a grating laugh. Mumbo frowns, missing the joke.

"You think that will save you?" The man asks, slinking towards him again. "You think I can't take your soul by force? Where have you got to run?" Mumbo jumps back from a swing that nearly catches his side. He eyes up the doorway. The man is standing in his way but- A plan comes to his head. A stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless.

He kicks, watching the amusement on the man's face as his foot goes straight through him. Mumbo uses the momentum to dive forwards, straight through the man's body. It feels like plunging into a frozen ocean, leaving him gasping for air. But he's out. He's in the hallway. His hand presses against the wall until he gets his feet under him, sprinting into the empty darkness. 

He holds his arm out, wishing the glow of the wristband was brighter to guide him. There's a roar behind him, sending Mumbo's body into violent shivers. He feels like he might cry. He forces one foot after another, hoping that the entrance is somewhere ahead of him. He doesn't know what it'll solve. Maybe it's a moral victory. 

His hopes are dashed when his hand hits a wall. The pain is overshadowed by crushing defeat, the panic threatening to choke him. He presses around but can't find where to go. This was supposed to be a straight hallway! High-pitched, scraping drags closer to him, the sound growing louder. Mumbo turns, frozen before the man. It can't end here. Please, he doesn't want to die.

"It'll be over soon," the man tells him, words like ice in Mumbo's lungs. The knife gleams as it raises above Mumbo's head. His scream comes out as a sob, raising his arms in a last, futile attempt at defence. 

The knife hits the wristband. 

Mumbo barely registers the fact he's not been hit as the plastic glows, growing brighter as it peels away from sweaty skin. Something silent in the air bursts. He hears a scream as he loses his footing to the force. Falling backwards, the man is gradually vanishing, expression twisted in pain. Mumbo's head cracks against the wall behind him. He slumps onto the carpet, thoughts swimming. He blinks once. Twice. The darkness of the hallway takes over his thoughts, sliding into silence.

-

"I think he's waking up!" Mumbo's head feels like concrete. Everything throbs in time to his heartbeat, the voices around him are so loud he can't focus on the words. There's something soft touching his cheek, reminiscent of an earlier touch, freezing cold-

He flinches away from it, head swirling in pain. Another touch steadies him. He realises there's something cool and damp against the back of his head. He raises his hand, trying to touch it but brushing against something else solid, warm. Cautiously, he forces his eyes open, wincing at the brightness that awaits him. There's shadows moving in his vision, one of them speaking.

"-bo? Hey, can you hear us?" Mumbo nods, whining at the pain that movement sends through his head. He rests his forehead on a closed fist, giving the fog in his brain time to dissipate. Everything is blissfully quiet around him, the only noise being distant footsteps and creaking floorboards. 

The night hits him at once. He startles up, swaying before he can even get his feet under him. Hands on his shoulders keep him from standing. 

"Woah, hey. You had a nasty fall. Careful." The voice sinks into Mumbo's mind. He finds himself looking into dark brown eyes, bright red at the edge of his vision. He leaps forward, throwing his arms around his friend.

"Grian." His voice breaks on the name. Those arms reach around him, patting his back robotically. 

"Mumbo?" Grian's voice is confused as he hugs back. "It's only been a few minutes, dude. You weren't out for that long." Mumbo's breath comes out as a wheeze.

"What time is it?" He asks, almost desperate. There's a pause, Grian's head lifting up.

"Like, ten minutes past midnight." There's Iskall. They're both here. Safe. He's safe. "Mumbo are you okay? Besides the head injury and- your hands. Like, dude?" Mumbo's breath comes out shaky with the tears he forces back.

"I'm- I'm okay. I think." He looks around the familiar hallway. The carpet is worn and dirty, the wallpaper peeling in places. Above the nearest doorway, the wooden coat of arms is broken. 

"What even happened, Mumbo?" Grian asks. He gets shuffled to the side as a young man kneels down, a medical kit in his hands. Mumbo shuts his eyes, trying to think. A lot. A lot happened. Oh goodness, a lot has happened. He doesn't even know where to start. 

So instead, he lies, "I- I tripped." 

"You tripped?" Grian sounds in disbelief. 

"When I joked about letting go of your hand, I didn't mean for it to be serious." The joking in Iskall's voice is shadowed by worry. That conversation feels like it happened hours ago. Mumbo holds his hands out for the first aider, allowing him to wipe the nearly closed up wounds. He winces at the sting of alcohol, sitting patiently and trying not to move. 

"Do we need a babysitter for you?" Grian joins in with the teasing. It sounds just as concerned. Mumbo tries to smile. He feels exhausted down to his very bones. He wants nothing more than to curl up and sleep. 

"I'm okay," he attempts to reassure them. "Honestly, I need to look where I'm going." It's so much easier than explaining what really happened.

"Maybe you were tripped by a ghost," Iskall jokes. It falls a bit flat, considering, but Mumbo finds himself laughing anyway. This is absurd. Did he just imagine all of that?

"There you go, all bandaged up." The first aider releases Mumbo's hand. Mumbo flexes them, feeling bandages shift around his palms. It's going to be a nightmare working with this. "No idea how you did it, mind. They look almost healed. Old wounds?" Mumbo hums, allowing the guy to take whatever answer he wants from it. "You should be fine to go home, anyway." Mumbo sags in relief before remembering the original reason for their visit.

"But what about you two?" He asks, "Don't you want to do the attraction?" 

"Dude, we can do the attraction another time. We're taking you home." Grian nods in agreement at Iskall's words. Mumbo sits back, gently poking the ice pack on his head. It's beginning to melt into his hair. He takes it off, offering it back to the first aider.

"Hey." Mumbo looks up at a familiar voice, jumping away from the woman who approaches. She's no longer wearing a waistcoat, instead, there's a dark hoodie. Her hair is still in a ponytail. "Got your bags." Her eyes meet Mumbo's. They glint with a knowing smile, lightening to an almost-white. He stares at her as Iskall takes their stuff. Then, she turns away, waving over her shoulder. Grian offers his hands out to Mumbo, helping him onto his feet. 

"Come on, let's get Mr Accident Prone here home," Grian calls to Iskall, wrapping his arm around Mumbo's waist. Iskall laughs, turning and thanking the staff members for their help whilst Grian walks with Mumbo to the entrance. Mumbo tries not to tense as the hallway opens up, but he does. He only relaxes once he sees the open door and no sign of that man. Grian looks at him in concern, asking a soft, "You alright?" 

"I'm fine, sorry." Grian obviously isn't convinced, but they wait by the door for Iskall to catch up. He appears shortly after, rucksack on his back and their coats slung over his arm. He holds them out for Grian and Mumbo to take. Mumbo wraps himself up tightly, trying to stave off some of the lingering chill in his bones.

A weight leaves Mumbo's shoulders when they step outside. The queue is still chatting away and, for once, Mumbo doesn't care about the stares they get. He's far, far too tired. Grian leads him along with a warm hand in his, past the queue and under the bright lights. The grounds are in the same decay that Mumbo remembers from when they arrived. 

"Right," Grian turns to Mumbo, squeezing his hand, "what actually happened, then?" Mumbo pauses, looking at Grian and trying to tell if he's serious. 

"You're a terrible liar, Mumbo," Iskall informs him, backing Grian up. 

"And why were you freezing up at things? Like that girl and the entrance? Clearly something's up." 

"And you're clumsy but not that clumsy. Plus your hands! There was nothing sharp in the hall!" They're both so concerned, eyes watching Mumbo carefully. They probably think somebody picked a fight with him. They wouldn't be too far off. 

"You guys wouldn't believe me if I told you," Mumbo replies, at last. Grian groans at him, Iskall rolling his eyes. Mumbo takes a second to glance back at the manor, standing tall in the night.

For a split second, he sees the manor as it once was. Windows closed and uncovered, the one above the porch shattered as blood drips onto the porch railing below. The flowers are blooming, the paint shining. And on the lawn, he sees two young girls, running across the tidy grass. He thinks he can hear their laughter in the distance. Then it's gone, returned to the abandoned manor someone decided to set a haunted house up in. 

"There's no such thing as ghosts," he says, turning to Iskall as he parrots those earlier words. The two of them make loud noises, falling over each other in argument.

"What does that mean?!" Grian cries, waving his hands. "Come on, Mumbo!" Mumbo laughs tiredly, resolving to ignore their protests. Maybe he'll tell them another time. Tonight, he just wants to put this entire experience behind him. Curl up in a warm bed and sleep until he doesn't feel ready to fall over. 

He's not going anywhere haunted for a long time.