#thank you to these two for being both my puppets in this situation

[demodoggonetired]

✨Time for them to have a fun night so that I can practice drawing people again✨

reference

[inkedinfusions]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 | eren jaeger chapter 2

⊱𖣂⊰ | In which you fall into a fictional world with the key to Pandora's box.

⊱𖣂⊰ | masterlist

⊰– prev next–⊱

𝟎𝟐 | 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

chapter word count: 3.5 k

content warnings: mild panic attack, blanket warnings

a/n: Zeke was so difficult to write, so I hope I made his character justice. Like three months ago I was a bit neutral -if not indifferent- towards his character, but now I think he is my favorite. I need to pick his brain apart lmao. I think I am getting the hang of him though.

Thanks for reading!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 foot against the floor filled the room, creating an unlikely harmony with the dripping faucet and the creak of old wood. You lean back against the chair furthest from both doors, teetering on the brink of falling

You swing your weight back, just so managing to catch yourself before you topple down to the dusty floor. Your heart begins to slow down after the spike of adrenaline, yet still doesn’t reach a steady pace.

And whose would, in this situation? You are stuck in an old creepy house, in the room next to two people who unsettled you even while being on the other side of a screen.

You debate picking the lock on the front door, or maybe smashing a window to escape the suffocating atmosphere. The walls close in on you, the air is sucked out of the space, and the sink won't stop dripping. Your eyes glaze over, tuning out reality

Drip

The house is destroyed in a blaze of giant footsteps, the ceiling crumbles and the kitchen is buried under flaming rubble. The square where people strolled earlier is walked on for the last time.

Drip.

Libero is diminished to nothing more than a barren wasteland, flattened down by the will of a puppeteer turned puppet. Screams stop, replaced by the wet crunches of flesh and blood.

Drip.

The music crescendos. You know. You know and yet you are still unable to do anything, frozen under the dead eyed stare of colossal titans. Your bones are crushed, your consciousness dissolves.

Drip.

Your heavy breathing is interrupted by an opening door, your eyes shooting to the threshold, looking up from where you have curled up on yourself. Yelena scans you over and nods towards the space behind her.

When you blink, you are already halfway across the room, your feet robotically bringing you next to her. You take a deep breath as discreetly as you can, glancing at Yelena when she moves to the side, inviting you in.

You push the door forwards and are brought eye to eye with Zeke Jaeger, the holder of the beast titan, member of the royal family, and the closest way you have of getting back home.

The breeze stills as his gray eyes move from the teacup to you. All in the room is sunk in shadows –not yet processed by your brain– but him. If this were a play, the stage would be pitch black and a ray of limelight would be shining on his person.

Zeke stands, dwarfing your frame, and extends a hand. You hesitate for a moment before gripping it tightly.

“Hello there,” he greets, offering you a smile. You are so taken by his presence that you almost don't notice the door closing behind you.

“Come sit.”

He nods towards a sofa situated in front of his own. The only thing offering a buffer in between is a small coffee table, set with a steaming teapot and two metal cups.

You awkwardly follow his instructions, glancing once at the cup in front of you. A bottle of wine flashes through your mind.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how you take your tea, so apologies if it's not to your taste.”

Zeke continues the one sided conversation by himself, seemingly not bothered by your lack of engagement. He swirls around his own tea, a dark liquid that glitters when hit by the sunlight coming through a small window, parallel to the door.

You tentatively grab the cup, letting the warmth seep into your hands.

“Thank you,” you utter, not really knowing what else to say.

He chuckles and takes a sip from his own, scanning you up and down with more subtlety than Yelena. You wonder how you look from his perspective. Is he evaluating you as a threat? Or as a tool?

“I’m Zeke Jaeger,” yeah, you know, “and it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…?”

“Y/n.”

You bring the warm cup to your lips seconds after introducing yourself, frowning softly at the bitter taste. You would add sugar if it did not mean having to put the cup down and continue the conversation.

“Well, Miss Y/n, what can you tell me about the story of Ymir?”

You almost choke on the tea, barely remembering how to breathe afterwards.

He can't possibly know… right?

“I don’t… I'm not her,” you repeat, remembering Yelena’s first words to you.

“Now, I know that,” Zeke continues, “but that’s not what I asked.”

He shifts in place, and the gesture reminds you of your father scolding you after breaking a window with a baseball. Not mad, not even chastising, but instead presenting you with the problem and asking you to reflect on its error.

What ultimately dooms you is not that you are familiar with information that you shouldn't be familiar with, but that you're aware that you shouldn't know it. Innocent people would be nervous, sure, but they would answer.

You hesitate.

And you decide to tell the truth. Or at least half of it, anyway.

“I'm not… from here,” you start cautiously, gouging Zeke's reaction to your obvious revelation. He, predictably, stays silent, inviting you to continue.

“I think–” you take a deep breath. “I think I might be from another universe.”

That gets a reaction out of him. You catch an almost imperceptible flash of surprise in his eyes, quickly covered up by his nonchalant demeanor.

“Another… universe?” he asks, pausing in between words.

You nod, your throat suddenly closing up. Regret eats you alive, but you push forward, knowing that the man sitting in front of you was your current best bet at returning.

“There's a story. About her. Ymir,” you specify, the words bubbling up faster than you can process them. You let the dam flow, and now there was no stopping it. The dam, however, still acts as a filter, and you are cautious enough to trim and edit your story to your convenience.

“I read it. I'm not supposed to be here.”

Your last words come out in a hushed whisper, a plea for him to help you. You hate the idea of revealing some of your cards to him, but since he was half of the only two people who could currently access the paths and Ymir, Zeke was your only option if you wanted to communicate with the deity.

“So there's a story, in your… universe–” he pushes through the word like it's made of thick syrup, “ –that basically spells out our own history?”

You timidly incline your head in assent, feeling shy after throwing the ball to his court. There's a small crack in your mug that you trace over and over again, the repetition helping ground your attention instead of spiraling.

Zeke meditates over your words for a minute, his hand coming up to stroke his chin repeatedly. You can almost see the cogs in his brain turning behind his gray eyes, figuring out the likelihood of your story being true.

“You know of the paths, and of the conditions to access them.” He looks up to you again, searching for confirmation. You nod. “You know of my brother too.”

Zeke's eyes narrow, analyzing you once again. You feel like an old, dusty tome, locked away in an ancient library, promising knowledge to those who can decode its secrets.

He hums, processing the extent of your knowledge. You are hesitant to give him any more information that will expose the true reach of it.

“I need to get home,” you continue, not wanting to take part in the horrors to come. Sure, you would absolutely love to meet your favorite characters, but you don't fancy being turned to mush or shot at with a pistol.

And you have a life there. Friends, family.

Are they wondering where you are? Would they look for you?

You cage those thoughts in a box and throw it deep, deep in your mind. Now is not the time to spiral.

“You want me to look through the paths for a solution.” Zeke finishes your train of thought, looking down, and you give him an affirmative nod. While you didn't know of the thing –or things– that brought you here, maybe a higher power could take you back. Thus, Ymir.

Ymir is the closest to a god you had here, and the world be damned if you wouldn’t pray at her feet for a chance at going home. You almost feel like a devout follower, willing to make a pilgrimage for an opportunity to be heard.

You let Zeke process your request, and after a moment he sighs, turning his head to you.

“I know we just met,” he starts. “But I’m going to need you to trust me. If there is anything, anything at all in that story that could be relevant I need you to tell me.”

Your throat dries, and your tongue refuses to cooperate, turning as heavy as lead. No sound comes out of your mouth, so you close it, only to open it again.

“I trust you,” you lie in a raspy voice.

Zeke does not believe you, obviously, but neither does he make an effort to refute your statement. He simply nods, and the silence envelopes both of you until he speaks again.

“Well, let's get you situated then.” Zeke stands up, offering you a hand. “You are supposed to be staying with me, after all.”

In the whirlwind of the conversation you had forgotten all about your cover story. Holy shit. You are going to be living with the very real Zeke Jaeger. Concern rises in your mind, remembering Marley’s obsession with keeping Eldians in line.

“And before I forget. Here.”

His hand dips into his front coat pocket and extracts a ruby red armband embroidered with a white nine point star. Your white armband rustles against your jacket when you take it off, allowing Zeke to tie the new one around your bicep.

“Isn’t there going to be an issue with my, I don't know, blood status? Someone mentioned blood tests at the station.”

No one had mentioned tests, actually, but you feel confident enough that it's such a small detail that Zeke won't bother confirming it with Yelena. Why would he verify such a trivial sentence, when the threat of being seen with her far outweighs the risks?

A single drop of blood would confirm that you're not Eldian, not Marleyan, not anything else. No family or government to respond to too, in case the higher ups wanted to run trials with your genetic material.

“Oh, don't worry about it,” he waves off your concerns. “People in charge are more worried about an Eldian pretending to be Marleyan, rather than the other way around. Puts things into perspective.”

He takes the now obsolete piece of fabric from your hand and lets it take the empty place inside his pocket.

“What does red mean?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

“You are part of my family now,” Zeke responds. “I am a Warrior, and we get special privileges as such. I will explain everything later, I promise. But we have to move.”

Zeke gives you a reassuring smile, and a small, treacherous part of your heart is comforted.

When you get out of the small room, you discover that Yelena had already left, leaving nothing to betray her presence in the house. Smart plan, you think. Yelena and Zeke could not be connected yet in the eyes of Marley. She probably just retrieved you because of the trust already placed upon her.

You follow Zeke out into the alley, and continue down an unfamiliar path until you arrive at a quaint street, flanked by living quarters. You pay half your attention to Zeke’s chattering, and half to committing to memory the scenery.

“I’m sure she already told you,” –he skips over Yelena’s name– “but your father was a distant relative of mine, on my mother’s side.” A lie, obviously. Still, a convenient one. Now he had a reason to keep you under his wing, even if he lived one of the most supervised lives in Marley.

“My parents are a touchy subject with my grandparents, but they shouldn't have a problem with you.” His steps are light and breezy, his slow pace aiding you in falling into a similar stride. “Still, try not to mention her. Keep the comments about your family at a minimum.”

Zeke halts his walking, almost causing you to bump into his figure. His eyes pierce into yours, wanting to transmit the importance of his statement.

“The best stories can still be unraveled when exposed enough.”

He doesn’t need to expand on it. You get a feeling that he's not just talking about your fake backstory. You nod, digging your fingernails into your palms. Zeke smiles and continues on his path.

You stay frozen on the sidewalk a little longer, before shaking your head and jogging to catch up.

“So, uh, you live with them? Your grandparents?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “Down the street from them. You'll have your own space, don't worry.”

“Oh, I didn't mean–”

“It's okay, I know how you teenagers get. I've been personally acquainted with some.”

Zeke lets out a hearty chuckle, looking straight ahead. The late afternoon sun rays bounce off his already golden hair, giving him an almost ethereal look. It drenches your coat too, melting the original beige into something more blinding.

You and Zeke strut through town, coming up to a nicer neighborhood than the one with the seedy house. It is still nothing compared to some buildings out in Liberio, and yet you feel a shift in the general vibe.

A distant person raises their left arm in greeting and you notice a difference in their attire. A striking yellow armband has taken the place of the pure white ones, and as Zeke raises his own arm, you recognize that his own armband is blood red.

“That’s Johann Grice,” his voice points out to you, lowering his hand and resuming his walk up some stairs towards a door . “He's got a boy I’m… mentoring. Around your age I'd say.”

You feel a little uncomfortable at the revelation, Colt’s death feeling like a grim reminder of what you feel like you are condemning this world to. Would Johann Grice wave to you if he knew you were sentencing his eldest son to death?

“I'll introduce you later, come on.”

Zeke knocks on a house’s door, his tall body shielding you from half the field of vision of the threshold. A kind looking old woman opens the door, her tired eyes instantly softening at the view of her grandson.

“Zeke!” she greets with a smile. “What a nice surprise. We weren't expecting you until much later.”

Zeke hugs the woman you assume to be his grandma, Mrs Jaeger, and greets her back.

“The train came much earlier than expected,” he explains, breaking the hug and moving a little to the side, exposing you to Mrs Jaeger. “This is Y/n. The girl I told you about, daughter of the dead soldier.”

You give a nervous smile to the old woman, shyly raising your wand to wave, before deciding that that’s not something a normal person would do to someone standing meters in front of them. The result is a jumbled motion of your arm jerking up before clunkily returning to its resting pace.

“Hello,” you instead try. “It's nice meeting you.”

Mrs Jaeger surprises you when she pulls you in for an unexpected hug, making you freeze up before tentatively putting your arms around her, returning the gesture.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she exclaims, seemingly touched by your fake story. “I am very sorry for what happened to your father.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

You notice Zeke giving you a small, reproachful look from behind her grandma's shoulder, still holding you in an embrace. You answer with your own lost expression, wordlessly transmitting that, while you were aware of your robotic response, you still didn’t know how else to act.

“Come in, come in.” Mrs Jaeger ushers you inside. “My husband’s just upstairs, I'll go call him. You make yourself at home, dear.”

She retreats up the stairs after giving you a smile, leaving you alone with Zeke in the kitchen. The sound of the creaky floorboards gets softer as she ascends, and you follow her footsteps with your head.

You are standing still in the same place as when you entered, feeling very out of place in the small home. You lock eyes with Zeke, whose eye corners are creased with his own small grin.

“They’re nice,” you mumble, making his eyes sparkle with amusement.

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

Zeke strolls past you to the counters, opening and closing many in quick succession. He rummages through cabinets, his hand emerging from one of them with a small, silver tin. The opened tin is offered to you, and you peer inside it, identifying small, powdery biscuits.

The flour stains your fingers white as you wordlessly take one, nibbling on it to have something to do with your hands. Zeke takes another before storing the tin where he found it, next to the leak-free faucet and the pile of firewood for the stove.

You exchange words with Mrs Jaeger and her husband when they come down, and they assure you that if you ever need anything, you can just ask. You nod awkwardly at their offer, noting at their coddling behavior. You remember Faye, and just as quickly you push her out of your thoughts.

They offer you dinner, which you refuse, still too jittery to eat anything more than the small cookie. After bidding the couple goodnight, you and Zeke exit their house and make your way to an adjacent residence, where Zeke unlocks the front door, placing a duplicate of the key in your palm.

“Home sweet home,” he says as he leads you inside a property nearly identical to the previous one. The only difference is in the personal items, small trinkets strewn across tables and shelves. Zeke approaches something behind you, you hear a click and light floods the room.

He motions for you to follow him upstairs, turning to a door down the hall across the railing. Picture frames are hung up on the walls of the hallway, small tidbits of Zeke’s life bringing color to the wooden corridor.

This only serves as a striking contrast to the bedroom you are shown, the bare room only containing a bed, small desk, dresser, and shelves, lined with old books. Your eyes zero in on two of them, a red one with what you assume to be anatomy drawings, and another with paw prints across the spine.

A small breeze flows through the window above the bed, making the light blue curtains sway gently in the wind. Zeke walks towards the desk, igniting the small candle lamp that then coats the space in a warm light.

“This is your room,” Zeke makes a flourish with his hand, akin to a circus ringmaster. “You'll find some clothes there,” he points to the drawers. “I can have them mended if they don't fit.”

“Thank you,” you fumblingly answer, taking a few hesitant steps past the door frame, towards the book with the paw prints.

Your fingers trace over the unknown symbols of the cover, the runes forming what you were sure to be the title. Yet, you couldn’t decipher what it was supposed to mean. Zeke strides over to stand by your side, examining your pick in literature.

“What, you’re interested in–” he squints his eyes at the book in your hands, “ –The Beginners Guide to Observing Wildlife? I didn't know I still had that,” he mutters.

“Is that what this is?”

Zeke shoots you a confused look, making you turn your gaze downwards. You mess with a small piece of the cover that is coming off, hesitating.

“I can't read it.”

The confession tastes bitter in your tongue, and you feel strangely embarrassed at not knowing the written language of a world that was not supposed to exist. Your cheeks burn and you turn your face to the side, quickly returning the book to the shelf.

Zeke's face softens, and he places a comforting hand on your back. You can practically feel older brother energy oozing from his figure, and you feel like a small kid again, knowing everything in the world, and yet ignorant of so much more.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, patting you back. “Goodnight. I'll be down the hall if you need anything.”

The door closes behind him, and you are truly alone for the first time since… well, since you were home. Home sweet home, Zeke had said. Sweet, maybe, you think, the sugar from the biscuits still coating your tastebuds. Home? Not really.

You find cotton pajamas in a drawer below the book lined shelves, and you make a quick work of slipping them on. Crawling into the covers after blowing out the candle, you find yourself revisiting the quick succession of events today, from the ruins, to the train, to the internment zone.

Your heart squeezes painfully, discomfort beginning to stir beneath your flesh. You fall into restless, interrupted sleep, lulled by the distant sound of train whistles.

taglist: @dressycobra7 @xngelsau

ask or comment to be added!

[seabirdtxt]

It's been a while since I made a request to a blog, but I really enjoy your writing, and your AUs got my brain going with ideas (especially the Glitch AU). It has me thinking about how our favorite little Puppet boys would react to some of the... interesting hobbies I have: two of those being things like Doll making/repainting, and cosplaying/ general fantastical costuming.

I feel like both of these hobbies have the potential to lead to both hilarious situations and moments of being a bit... perturbed at best (especially doll making: the random assortment of doll limbs being places, or having naked dolls that are precariously hung from the ceiling to finish drying from paint jobs).

I do know that at least Kabukimono and Wanderer (Scara might have forgotten since he hadn't used the skill in a long time, and Wanderer likely relearned it) know how to sew, so the sewing part could be cute bonding time.

Could be platonic or romantic in nature: both would be fine. And also, fully understand it will probably take you time to get to this, of you even get to it at all. I just appreciate you taking the time to read this request~! Can't wait for your next bits of work: hope you have a wonderful day~!!! 💕💕💕💕

hey!! thanks so much for your request!! this was a funny idea bc i can't imagine any of scara's iterations being any good at collaboration but for all separate reasons lmao

I'm not too knowledgeable about doll making but hopefully you like this anyway :D i wrote it as a bit of a glitch!AU spinoff in my mind, but feel free to imagine any other scenarios these three clowns might come together for hahaha WC. 1.3k

----- ⚘ -----

When the three puppets were told not to enter your room and disturb your hobby workstation, this isn’t what they had in mind. Wanderer thought maybe you did something embarrassing as a hobby, Scaramouche thought it might be something potentially dangerous especially if you intended to keep it a secret from them, while Kabukimono was certain that you did some sort of artistic craft that you preferred to keep hidden until the end product was finished.

All three of them were right, in some way or another. 

The three of them stand in your workshop, staring in horror at the dozens of separated doll components you’d strung up around the edges of the room. Scraps of tiny, doll-sized outfits were scattered around your desk, and a half-painted doll head was mounted on some sort of device in the middle of the chaos. The doll’s single painted eye watches their trespassing with silent judgment.

You’re glad you find them out so soon, and you have exactly three seconds to stop them from touching anything in the workshop.

“WhatareyouguysDOINGinhere?!” Nailed it. 

Kabukimono leaps a vertical foot into the air out of fright at your sudden and shrill outburst, while the other two react in more subdued manners before turning around to face you, standing in the doorway behind them. Your arms are outstretched, palms forward, and you’re braced as though you’re anticipating some sort of impact.

“Don’t. Touch. Anything.” You warn. “Not all of these are dry, and if you smudge anything I’ll have to restart them.”

“Why do you have a bunch of dismembered doll corpses?” Scaramouche asks, jerking his thumb at the precariously hanging doll components.

“A seller in Inazuma asked me if I could help him finish a few dolls, since I told him I used to do it as a hobby back in my world.” You explain, not dropping your guarded position. “If any of you want to eat dinner this week, I suggest you step away from the dolls. Slowly.”

“Can you not call them that?” Kabukimono complains to Scara as the trio carefully shuffle out of your workshop. “They’re not corpses, they just haven’t been put together yet.”

“Well, they aren’t alive either, so what’s your point?” 

“If you need some help completing them, I can pitch in.” The three of you look wide-eyed at Wanderer, who seems to immediately regret making the offer. He shrugs and looks away quickly. “Or not. Whatever.”

“I’d love some help,” you start hesitantly. “But what did you want to help with?”

“I can sew the clothes, I guess.”

Scaramouche’s nose wrinkles at this statement. “You can sew?”

“Why is that so surprising?” Wanderer counters, reaching into the inner lining of his haori and showing off a small, familiar cloth doll. Instantly, Kabukimono is patting himself down with a frantic expression, before pointing at Wanderer accusingly.

“Where did you get that?! I lost it a long time ago!”

“Heh, of course you did.” Wanderer smirks. “I made mine. What, are you telling me you never thought of making yourself a new one?”

“I was never good at doing the small stitches…” Kabukimono pouts, crossing his arms and eyeing the doll jealously. 

“That aside,” Wanderer continues, turning to you. “I can help you finish the clothes for your project dolls. The faster you can finish them, the faster you can retrieve the commission for them, right?”

“That’s true, I guess,” you acquiesce, already running the math in your head. If you could get the commission for the dolls early, you might not have to budget as hard this week. 

“I wanna help too!” Kabukimono declares, raising his hand (a bit redundantly, given he’s standing right next to you).

“Whatever,” Scaramouche snorts and waves dismissively as he begins to walk away. “If that’s what you nerds want to waste your time on, be my guest. As long as you don’t make it my problem, I don’t care what you do in your free time.”

“Party pooper,” you say, sticking out your tongue at his retreating back. “Well, what do you say, guys? Let’s get this bread?”

“Sure,” Wanderer nods, heading back into the workshop.

“What does bread have to do with dollmaking?” Kabukimono asks, even as he’s herded into the room by you.

“I’ll explain later, let’s finish up these bad boys first,” you promise, and the workshop door closes behind you.

----- ⚘ -----

“I made another sword!” Kabukimono declares, hurrying over to your workbench and showing off the tiny doll-sized sword he’d made. The fifth one, so far.

“That’s great, buddy!” You give him a pat, to his delight. “I think we’re okay on swords for now, though, d’you wanna try making something else this time?”

“Okay!”

Wanderer looks up from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, a few pins sticking out of his mouth as he uses them to hold his patterns in place. 

“Did your toymaker guy say what kinds of dolls he wanted?” He asks, holding up another utilitarian-looking outfit. “I can’t imagine this is what he had in mind when he asked for your help.”

“I mean, these are kind of edging into action figure territory,” you shrug. “But that’s probably fine. There’s a market out there for everything, nowadays.”

“Make a kimono that looks like the Shogun,” Kabukimono suggests, handing Wanderer some purple fabric. “Everybody likes the Shogun, right? She should be pretty popular.”

You and Wanderer both wince (for different reasons) at Kabukimono’s well-meant statement. However, Wanderer does take the purple fabric and sets it gently aside, and you wonder if he’ll take the suggestion after all. 

“Are you losers done in here? I’m tired of doing the dishes for two days straight,” Scaramouche kicks the door in, uncaring of the delicate work you three are doing. Thankfully, the risky parts are all done, so nothing suffers any damage with his sudden entrance. Scara drops three bowls onto your workbench, each piled with fried rice and vegetables.

“Ha, you’d make a great housewife,” Wanderer snickers, earning himself a smack on the back of his head. “Ow.”

“Thank you!” Kabukimono takes his bowl and brings it to where he’s working on something, hopefully not another sword. 

“Thanks,” you say as well, giving Scara a genuine smile. The puppet scowls and leaves as quickly as he’d come in.

“Don’t bother! It doesn’t benefit anyone if you drop dead from starvation, you know?” he sneers over his shoulder as he slams the door shut. 

There’s silence as you three eat the lunch that was generously provided, stacking the bowls and putting them beside the door for when you guys go for your next break.

“I think I’m done after I finish this last outfit,” Wanderer sighs, holding up the unfinished garment. It looks hilarious in his hands, a cheerful pink and purple kimono in stark contrast to his deadpan expression.

“I’m almost done too!” Kabukimono adds, holding up his latest project: a doll-sized armor set. You smile gratefully at the both of them, even as you rub your temples with a sigh.

“Okay, great, I’ll put these together and bring them to the toymaker later this afternoon, then!” You say, hoping you sound enthusiastic about it. You think about the mismatched collection of outfits and sword accessories, wondering how you were going to sell this to your temporary employer. 

----- ⚘ -----

As it turns out, if there’s one thing Inazumans like, it’s swordsmen. The toymaker looks in awe at your half dozen tiny samurai, handing you a pouch of mora with a pleased word of thanks. 

As you’re headed back home, you get a telepathic message from Wanderer.

KABUKIMONO WANTS TO KNOW WHEN WE’RE GETTING MORE DOLLS.

‘He fired me, we’ll have to do something else,’ you think back, hoping you don’t sound too guilty in your head.

As much as you love these guys, you aren’t sure you could take another two days straight of having to collab with them. Hopefully buying some treats on the way home will placate them.

—– ⚘ —–

^ reader trying to juggle all three scara iterations without breaking any of the dolls LMAO

[peachymilkandcream]

My Husband, My Monster|Part 1|William Afton x Wife!Reader

(A/N: So this is the fandom that won the poll! I'll try and keep these and Break Me Slowly regular, but still feel free to give me requests for both in my inbox, I do oneshots and headcanons as well as I'll answer your questions and comments! (Please just read the rules first) I think I have a general timeline and idea of the lore [It's FNAF lore it's complicated as fuck] so I'm going with my best guess on things. Hope you guys enjoy!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, power imbalance, age difference, manipulation, mind breaking, yandere themes, yandere behaviours, domestic violence, misogyny, violence, William's a warning himself, etc.

=============================================

Who knew that a bit of twisted words and cash made all of your problems go away? William had struggled to stay open with Henry Emily's company showing such strides in mechanical technology. He was still wearing homemade cloth suits while his rival had dancing puppets that children adored. His dreams and ideas were being stolen right out from under him in his eyes, rolling in mountains of debt and the threat of closing down looming over his head. They were his characters, his dream, his business idea, and the bastard had to steal it and make it better. Even though he had bought William out of debt all those years back, it didn't change the sting of defeat when the two businesses merged.

Now he didn't regret it, Fredbear's Family Diner was just starting out but it was already projected to be a success. His characters took centre stage and had never been more alive, delighting young and old alike, his legacy started now.

Which is when he noticed the girl sitting at a table with her friend, they were giggling and laughing together over some inside joke. William had always had a soft spot for pretty girls, his more reckless years spent taking what women offered him freely, now he didn't have the time.

However for this girl he might just be able to make the time.

Casually he walks over, pretending to just be passing by, when he spies the job application she's filling out on the table and catching snippets of their conversation.

"I'm just saying, you're not going to have time for school while getting even a part time job." The friend was saying this, a slightly concerned expression on her face. "And now offence, you're not the brightest bulb, you need all the time to study that you can get."

"Well thanks." She mutters, giggling slightly. "But I can't afford college with my situation now. Mom and Dad agreed to pay for most of it, but-" She hesitates with a blush. "I want the full college experience."

"Ooh~" Her friend seems intrigued. "My best friend finally loosing her innocence? Scandalous."

She scoffs. "Look I just haven't found the right guy yet, it'll happen when it happens."

At this William can't help but interject. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but glance over your shoulder and see you're applying for a job here."

She meets his eyes, and man was he a sucker for a pretty face. "Yeah I am, are you a manager here?"

He chuckles a little. "No actually, I'm the owner." While co-owner was technically true he liked to tell people he owned it solely to give himself an ego boost. "If you wanted, I could do the interview right here."

"Wait really?"

"Actually, she's fine, thanks, she's going to get a job with my mom or something. Come on let's go-" Her friend slides out of the booth, trying to drag the woman with her.

"Well I'm going to be brutally honest with you here ma'am, for a girl your age your options are going to be extremely limited. And even though the pay isn't great it's a great experience."

She stops, considering his words before waving off her friend. "Go ahead, I think I'll still fill it out, never hurts."

"If you'd like I can interview you right now, save some time."

"Oh wow that would be awesome-"

"Seriously? Listen, this guy gives me a weird feeling, let's just go okay? And I'll find you something better." The friend again reaches for her to come along, but the girl refuses.

"I'm serious, go on and I'll tell you how it went later."

With a huff her friend leaves, a clearly annoyed expression evident on her face.

William regains his composure before sitting across from her. "So, a job. Tell me what you can do." He crosses his hands on the table in front of her, a smile easily coming to his face.

"Well, I was thinking I would be a good server, I'm good with people, especially kids, and I love to clean. I can cook pretty well too but I think something at this scale would be too much for me." She laughs a little, clearly trying to ease a little nervousness.

He joins in on her laughter, hoping to make her comfortable around him, since that's what he wanted. "I suppose that's fair. Out of curiosity, why is it you want this job?" She was hired already, that he knew, a pretty face with a nice ass? What more could you want from an employee?

"Well I'm in college, and I want to be able to afford just some extras to really experience that life before it's too late."

"College?" He feigns interest, in his opinion all she was doing was wasting her most fertile years and her money. If she's halfway decent at any of her qualifications then she'd easily find a rich enough man like him, pop out a few kids and have a truly fulfilling life. "Can I ask what for?"

"Psychology, the human mind has always fascinated me."

"Oh yes definitely." He suppresses an eye roll, even more of a useless degree, maybe he could help this girl from throwing her life away because she thinks deep thoughts will make her money. "Then I should ask for your class schedule for hours."

"Right, I always keep it with me because I'm always forgetting." She giggles again, pulling it out of her purse and handing it to him. "I cannot work these times but anything else I'm there."

Wanting these hours to know when not to schedule this girl was the last thing on William's mind. "Well I'll do what I can, but it's not that easy, you have to be flexible in the real world."

"Of course, I understand that sir."

"William, call me William. My grandfather was sir and my father was Mr. Afton, so I'm just William." He flashes another smile, coaxing one from her lips as well.

"Alright, William." She tests his name out on her tongue with a soft smile and a subtle blush, the poor girl clearly hasn't been within five feet of a man before.

"Now Miss, have you had any work experience prior to this?"

"No, I haven't, this sounds entitled but I've never really had the need to up until now?"

"There's nothing wrong with that, although I'll need to teach you the proper dynamic between employee and employer. But I trust that won't be a problem, right?"

"Not at all sir-er-William. I'm more than happy to learn."

"Good, all you need to know is that I'm your friend, but I have authority over you so you need to follow what I say without question."

"Why without question?"

Oh she was so naive. "Insubordination, it's grounds with which you can be fired. So best not to stray too far towards that right?" He winks.

"Absolutely-" She shivers slightly.

"Then if that's it..." He draws the moment out for it to seem authentic. "Welcome to Fredbear's Family Diner and we're happy to have you on the team." He extends a hand to shake, which she grasps eagerly, her rows of white teeth on full display.

"Oh thank you so much! When do I start?"

"We'll have you start next week, let's say, Monday."

"That's perfect, that's so perfect-" She glances at the door. "I really should go, I think I've pissed her off enough as it is, thank you for your time." She shakes his hand and hurries out the door.

"Oh trust me, don't worry about it." He watches her go, a small smile coming to his face.

This was just the beginning.

[moethewriter]

Your fics are so so so good. I love the introspection so much. Could you do #30 on the angst prompt with finnick, if you want? thank you!

Hey Anon! Thanks for the compliment! Of Course I can. This one actually took me a hot second to think of an idea for! But I hope you enjoy it! -- TITLE: The Things We Need Most WORD COUNT: 1.1K WARNING: Fighting, not sure if anything else is worth noting under here but if there is let me know and I'll change it! TAGS: Introspection cause its me, fighting and arguing, two idiots being idiots. READER IS FEM CODED!!! Only because it made the most sense with the plot that came to mind! SUMMARY: Sometimes what you needed most was right in front of you ... A/N: Hello again all! The reader in this is fem coded just for the sake of the plot, it made more sense! Thanks for enjoying my work so far everyone! Hope you enjoy this one too, and as always I take constructive criticism so please feel free to leave that!

“You can’t tell anyone.” You said, furiously crossing your arms as though you were a petulant child arguing over bedtime. You thought if anyone could understand, he would, but apparently you had thought wrong.

“The hell I can’t!” He laughed, a small harsh little laugh that didn’t suit him at all. He was looking at you, his eyes boring into your soul, holding nothing but hurt, fear and frustration in them.

“You think I’m going to sit here and let Mags or Annie go back into that arena? Absolutely not, I can’t let that happen.” You snapped, a red tinge growing over your face as anger filled your bones. “You can’t seriously think that either of them are even prepared to step back into there. You and I both know that they’re not! So get off your high horse and keep this secret like I asked you too!”

When you had been reaped, Mags had been your mentor. Finnick had tried to disagree but with the friendship you two had, you knew it wouldn’t be wise. If he lost you, like you had almost lost him, he would be distraught. You were distraught when he had left for his games, nothing seemed to be okay after that. 

But Mags had stepped up, and she got you every sponsor she could. She took care of you and helped you make it out of there alive, back to Finnick, to her and your family. 

You hadn’t met Annie officially until you had turned eighteen, and she, seventeen. Finnick had introduced you both and you had clicked instantly. She became like the sister you never had and then it became the three of you. Annie hadn’t returned the same after she had been reaped and won her games. But Finnick and you had always been there for her, and you would be there for her now.

“If I march in there and tell them what you’re doing, you think they’re going to allow you to put your life on the line for them! They would never allow you to sacrifice yourself for them, you know!” He shot back, running a hand through his hair, roughly. 

“It’s not their choice, Finn! It’s mine. I am actively making this choice alone. You can’t sit here and seriously say you wouldn’t do the same!” An exasperated laugh passed through your lips, as you looked away from him.

Obviously no one wanted to be in this situation, everyone had been promised to be left alone after they had won. Of course Snow could never allow that for any Victors, with how he operated with them after the games. He couldn’t let his little puppets not be punished, he was incapable of sympathy.

“I would take their places in a heartbeat, you know! I would never have any of you going back there if I could!” Finnick said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Neither of you could stand to look at one another, both far too worked up than the situation called for, in your opinion. For the first time in a very long time you didn’t understand what was going through his head. Why was he shooting back at every opportunity, did he think that there was a chance you wouldn’t survive, did he not have that faith in you anymore?

“If you think I’m incapable of doing this, then you need to tell me. Don’t sit there and bullshit your way around things and not give me an answer to why you don’t want me back there. Because I know it’s not just because you're worried.” You said, a cross look passing over your face. You were done yelling, and fighting. You just needed to know what was going on. “If you can’t tell me then you need to let it go, and not tell anyone what I’ve told you here tonight. You need to respect me enough to keep that secret like I’ve asked of you.” 

He looked at you, biting his lip gently. He hardly did that anymore.

“Y/N.” He sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself. “It’s not that I think you couldn’t do it, or wouldn’t be strong enough. You’re the bravest person I know, and one of the strongest. I guess in a way this is selfish … the reason I don’t want you back there. I can’t lose you. We’ve almost lost each other at least once … I can’t feel that again.” He whispered, and you could see the tears welling in his eyes.

“But I can’t be okay with losing Annie or Mags, Finnick. I’m barely okay with the thought of losing you.” You reached out to cup his face, gently.

He looked so much younger like this, more like the boy you had met all those years ago.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

“I …. Finnick.” Your voice was tinged with sadness, and you had no idea what to say at this moment.

Finnick had never left your side from the moment you two had met. He had been there through every single major moment of your life. The day you had your first heartbreak, when you had broken a bone, he had held your hand through the reaping ceremony. He was the piece you had been missing. You couldn’t remember life before him, though you were sure you wouldn’t want to. He was everything to you.

And somewhere between then and now … perhaps you had both fallen in love with one another.  

Of course you had loved Finnick from the moment you had been ten years old, when he had challenged you to a swimming contest and you won. You hadn’t embarrassed him, or that’s what he had always said, but you ended up taking a liking to each other. .

From that moment on you two had become inseparable, there was never one of you without the other. He had changed your life for the better, and you had always hoped you made an impact on his too. 

“I love you too.” You admitted after moments of silence. “I think I always have but there was never a right time to say it.”

“No time like the present.” Finnick chuckled, small and gentle. His hands came up to cup yours, warmth radiating from him.

“I don’t think days before the reaping of the Quarter Quell is the best, but I’ll take it.” You smiled. “Kiss me?”

All he had needed was permission. He leaned down, gently slotting his lips with yours as you brushed your thumb against his cheeks.

Minutes felt like seconds and before you knew it he had pulled away from you, eyes no longer shining with tears but pure … love and joy.

“If you go back in there, both of us are coming out. Got it, L/N.” Finnick said, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“Got it, Odair.” You laughed against his chest. 

You didn’t know what the two of you did next, you barely had a clue of what would happen tomorrow … but this was the start of something beautiful. You could feel it.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

on the subject of Frank, Frank & Julie, and Franklydear 

I used to think that Frank will probably be one of the more skeptical puppets, and prone to being one of the first to see that not all is as it seems. And I think the majority of us think/thought this! 

But thanks to Riv i have entirely changed my tune. I think Frank will actively be avoiding the truth & clinging to the illusion. Here’s why!

Frank is portrayed as the most “rigid” neighbor - hell, it’s even part of his design! He likes routine, rules, for things to be ‘just so’ in his eyes. He doesn’t seem to like it when things stray from how they’re supposed to be. Everything has a time and a place. 

(and this might be mildly insane but blame Riv not me bc they said it, but in Just So Frank says “i like it best when red goes in front of the rest”, and if red is Wally… dot dot dot…) 

Then there’s how Frank will very likely be trying extremely hard to be something he’s not. And this is part of his design, too - he’s the only one in the cast without a natural blush. Yes, we’ve seen art where he can blush, but that’s in specific situations. In the bio images Frank is the only one without that little extra bit of color to his cheeks - he has two huge red splotches on him instead. Fake blush. Big and bright and impossible to ignore. 

And I’m gonna be diving a bit into Franklydear & Frank’s relationship with Julie because it’s important to this. 

I have also changed my tune on Franklydear - slightly. Welcome Home seems to be an example of nonlinear storytelling, as we’ve been getting bits and pieces from all over the place. The Live Interview from the early days, WHRP & Wally’s secret vinyl audios from “now”, the bug audios from an indeterminate time… so while I do think Franklydear is “already happening” within the main meat of the “past”, we will likely also get a chance to see before and after. And I do think there will be an after.

But I’m getting ahead of myself! Why do I think we’re going to see an established Franklydear? I’m going to be honest. A kofi post that I accidentally saw when a friend was sharing their screen with me and didn’t notice until it was too late </3 I should have looked away! But I didn’t, and that’s on me! I won’t say what I saw (it would be a theory anyways, nothing explicit or concrete in the evidence!) but it immediately convinced me that Frank & Eddie are in a secret relationship. I want to say more very badly, but if i’m proven right in tonight’s stream then I will be sharing Why I’m right. 

More reasoning that is obvious with this context - the whole “Mr. Dear / Frank- i mean Mr. Frankly!” thing might be part of this fabricated distance. I would completely believe you if you told me that Frank had them both refer to each other professionally to keep up the facade that they’re nothing but neighbors, nothing going on here nosiree. They definitely don’t meet in the woods to be romantic! That added with how unusually playful Frank is with Eddie in 8-14 is interesting… though I can also believe that those audios are from “before” their relationship, given that Frank seems to be dropping a hint with the whole “ You don’t need to be that familiar with them in order to get to know them better!” line. I don’t know - there are a bunch of contradictions that could be them acting, could be differences in the timeline, who’s to say yet! 

Anyway, so Franklydear is likely in a secret relationship, but I think Frank is going to get scared, call it off, and try to force a relationship with Julie. As in lying to her and everyone that he has feelings for her, and fulfilling their “destiny” in becoming a couple. I think Frank is where a lot of the internalized homophobia is going to come in.

In most of the Franklydear art we’ve seen from Clown, Frank seems to be very nervous and flustered around Eddie while Eddie seems to be more calm and forward. Frank has already proven to have a bit of a nervous disposition - he’s certainly high strung. That combined with his rigidity, the airs he puts on, and just… everything about him really, I don’t think he’ll be able to handle the pressure. 

(side note: the way that Clown said that he wishes they hadn’t let everyone know about Franklydear, it’s ok because it’s “not a major spoiler” has been fucking me up a little. Wym it’s not a Major spoiler? It’s so funny… we’ve all been like “Franklydear will be Thee relationship and a big thing-” and then it’s Not. lmao) 

Then there’s the song Clown associates with Franklydear, “Esperar pra ver”. @/Theneighborhoodwatch gave a translation/interpretation of the lyrics - cannot for the life of me find the og ask/post to link, but (if I’m remembering correctly) it was essentially said that the song is about love that doesn’t last / lost love. My friend Akemi (@/akemima <3) provided an alternate interpretation - to quote:

“...to me, it speaks about how they’re both Unable to speak up about their love? and the “wait and see” part is most likely them waiting for the other to make a first step or like. something Hopeful yknow?”

As both a tragedy enjoyer and a happy-end enjoyer, I wouldn’t mind either interpretation being accurate, personally! So Akemi has given us a sprinkle of hope for Franklydear! I think that both interpretations have merit, and hey, they can coexist. We might have them together, then Frank getting scared and calling it off, and then a “third arc” of them wanting to be back together but unable to (yet). Who’s to say! 

ON TO THE JULIE PORTION.

For a while I thought that Julie might be the one to pursue a relationship with Frank - both because of the subconscious influence of her “Role” & that she’s bi while Frank is gay. On surface level she would be the most likely of the two to get the wrong/mixed signals and Go For It.

However. Nothing about this project is surface level. 

I’ve already mentioned that I think Frank is going to try very hard to be something he isn’t. And this is backed by how his relationship with Julie is portrayed (another thank you to Riv for pointing a lot of this out & smacking some sense into me <3) 

Frank is all about rules and matching. Julie is all about improv and independence. Riv pointed out that in “Just So” the audio distorts when Frank is changing bowties and Julie asks if it “really matters”. They also pointed out that, apparently in the Halloween outfit references, Frank’s notes indicate that he’s matching with Julie - but Julie doesn’t have any reciprocating notes. It implies that she was doing her own thing and Frank adjusted himself accordingly. Julie goes along with Frank sometimes, but it seems that it’s usually Frank scrambling to go along with Julie. She’s been described as independent and stubborn. Frank is a bit more of a conforming pushover (no offense Frankie, love ya to bits <3). 

Frank is the straightman to Julie’s… I can’t reference the bios anymore but you know! He might be her straightman in more ways than just “he takes things seriously.” 

And really. Frank likes routine, he likes things to be consistent. He’s been with Julie as her best friend / “partner” for so long that I’m not sure if he can easily break away from that - I think a change as big as getting romantically involved with Eddie would terrify him. It might be thrilling for a moment, but then the fear will set in. 

I thought Julie would be the one clinging to Frank, but it’s the other way around isn’t it? 

Frank gets scared & then leads Julie on because he’s trying to act “normal”, the way that’s expected of him. And it fits. One of WH’s themes is the fear of being shunned for / perceived as different by others. Once they know what you are, will they treat you the same? 

And I don’t think Julie would be entirely opposed, either. I wouldn’t blame her for developing a crush on Frank. I mean, it might turn out that she’s “just going along with it” because she feels the same pressure and fear, but hm… I’m not convinced of that given what we know about her character. But if Julie has a little crush on Frank, I wouldn’t be surprised if when he forces himself to like her & initiates a relationship, she either realizes that it really was just a crush, or she’ll pick up on how Frank doesn’t actually have feelings & act accordingly. This option has more merit in my eyes. I think it would also reflect on the “love” theme of her house - I’ve speculated since pretty much day one that she’ll have an arc around realizing that she doesn’t need a relationship or even really want one at present, going against what Playfellow likely wanted from her. 

(and then I start thinking about the whole livestream trivia thing of Julie maybe falling down a hole or into some abyss… and the concept art of her shoes where she’s standing at the edge of a dark abyss… does she fall, does she jump, or is she pushed? If she winds up being pushed, who does it? Barnaby (milk theory babey!) or perhaps she’ll get in a fight with Frank and in the heat of the moment he accidentally causes her to fall, either by pushing or making her lose awareness of her surroundings (backing off of the edge?). I’m aware that this paragraph is a stretch all around! Don’t take it too seriously! A pinch of salt, people!)

There’s not much else to be said so, in conclusion:

Welcome Home’s storytelling is likely on a nonlinear timeline, Franklydear is established but won’t last, and Frank/Julie is probably going to become a temporary thing

[atrueneutral]

I had an idea for a cute scenario for Raphael x Tav involving Scratch and the baby owlbear. Now, Raphael probably wouldn't be a fan of the two, but Tav either comes with the fur-babies or not at all. However, one day Raphael (and, to a lesser degree, Tav) are tricked into a trap by other fiends - maybe implying a desire to negotiate with Raphael - where Raphael ends up being drawn away and separated from Tav while other fiends/warlocks ambush his little mouse, either to kill or maybe use as a hostage, (a 'If you're here, Raphael, then who is watching out for your little mouse?' kind of situation) and the only reason the scheme fails is because Scratch and the owlbear intervene to fearlessly protect Tav until Raphael arrived and could help Tav put the attackers in their place.

Judging by their protective body language and their overall wariness of their surroundings, the owlbear cub and the mongrel didn’t trust the devil Mez’gal.

They were smart creatures, at times, but they were also filthy, malodorous, and an unfortunate, bothersome consequence of his… partnership with Tav.

“I was summoned to hear you grovel, and yet I hear none,” Raphael said with a sneer and a gesture to the pit fiend.

Mez’gal had ‘surrendered’ to his little mouse as soon as she and her four-legged hunting party had found him outside a village, and she aptly called a mortal appearing Archdevil Supreme to hear the fiend's final pleas.

“Might we conduct business within your House of Hope, my lord?” Mez’gal proposed. His large fiendish body bowed - a sign of desperate submission.

“I’d sooner let that dog step foot in my House than you, but, seeing as how eliminating you here would only send you back to the hells, and I desire to end you completely...”

Raphael looked back to Tav. She gave him a nod and a small smile, and he raised his hand in preparation to snap. 

It was at the last second, just as friction was applied to thumb and middle finger, that he caught a malevolent glimmer in Mez’gal’s infernal eyes.

Snap!

They materialized in the entrance hall, and Raphael shed his mortal visage.

“Grovel,” the Archdevil Supreme demanded.

Mez’gal smirked.

“I was under contract, my lord,” he spat. “And by bringing me here, I’ve just fulfilled it.”

“By bringing you here… I’ve guaranteed your death.”

Mez’gal's face turned mocking as his arms opened wide. “I’ll be a martyr - by the time you kill me, your little pet will be dead from the ambush.”

Rage boiled, spilling over, and Raphael ascended - to rip and bite and tear the pit fiend asunder as quickly as possible.

—

When he reappeared, no longer ascended, there was nothing but the scent of bloodshed; the bodies of three warlocks were scattered about with gashes in their clothes, bite marks in their skin, and arrows embedded in limbs.

The two remaining enemies were busy throwing panicked spells at the filthy, malodorous animals coming for them.

Snap!

Snap!

Hellfire consumed the warlocks - their screams deafening as they instantly fell to the ground.

The two creatures watched, growling and posed defensively as they waited for the last breaths to leave the warlocks. When death came, smelling of burnt flesh and blood, Tav went over to the cub and mongrel. Raphael was somewhat irritated to see how non-plussed she appeared - as if attempts on her life were an amusing everyday occurrence.

And she was ignoring their true savior!

“My two good boys, yes, you are!” she said, giving them pets and scritches that delighted the animals greatly. Tav then leaned her ear towards the mongrel’s head. “What’s that, Scratch? Why, yes! I do think Raphael owes you both a ‘thank you’!”

Raphael’s irritation increased; he knew she could not speak to animals.

She was grinning at him, and he was weak for loving her smile so.

“Thank you,” he bit out.

Tav grabbed the mogrel’s muzzle , and the mongrel allowed her to move his jaw as one would a puppet.

“Rawrrororor,” went the mongrel.

“You’re most welcome, Saer Raphael,” said Tav as the mongrel.

Yes, filthy, malodorous, and sometimes helpful creatures they were.

[scarasun]

O-Oh my... 😳 May I request head canons of Arlecchino and Scaramouche/Wanderer (separate) being soft with their S/O? 👀🤭

my hubris ;;

pairing : arlecchino, scaramouche x gn!reader

cw : 3.3 archon quest spoilers if you squint a little (scaramouche's part)

a/n : thank you for sending in your requests yall 😭 when i saw them i knew i had to get started right away (i hope you don't mind that i sort of roped in two requests at a time...). anyways, i had so many ideas for this, but this is what i eventually settled on! let me know if you enjoyed it!

- Arlecchino is very familiar with the art of donning different masks to adapt to certain situations. Sometimes she’s a graceful gentlelady, the perfect picture of poise; other times, she’s an enemy’s worst nightmare. With you, however, she’s learnt to strip away all that makes her a formidable Fatui Harbinger.

- Before she had met you, she had only known to speak coarse words that cut her tongue, sharp and biting like salt on a wound. But in your presence, those words simply dissolve. She wants nothing more in the world than to let you know how much she finds you endearing – simply put, she’s a master at the use of pet names.

- “Dearest, can you come here for a minute?” “It’s good to see you again, my love.” “You look amazing, darling.” – The both of you have been together for a long time, and yet her terms of endearment never fail to make you feel like you’re falling in love for the first time once again.

- Arlecchino doesn’t consider herself to be a lazy person, but you come before all, including her work. Canceled missions become more frequent – she just can’t seem to get enough of your company. Conversely, when she’s at work, the only thing at the back of her mind is getting home at the end of the day to see your smile again.

It’s the end of a brutally long day, and the sky is painted in the scenic reds and oranges of the sunset. The sky looks beautiful, Arlecchino thinks to herself, but it’s nothing compared to you. She blushes at the cheesy thought, and she feels like she could almost hear your bouts of laughter if she were to accidentally speak the sentiment out loud. 

Arlecchino opens the front door to your shared home and puts her shoes to the side, surveying the house. She spies your figure sitting on the couch in the middle of the living room, and her pace picks up slightly, a small smile growing on her face. Your focus is angled downwards, and she could see a book resting in your lap.

Wordlessly, she climbs into the couch beside you, wrapping her arms around your waist tightly and burying her face into your neck. 

“Good afternoon, Arle,” you say, reaching up to tangle your fingers in her snow-white hair. The only acknowledgement you receive for your greeting was her arms tightening around you.

It felt good to be home.

- After his fall from the ranks of the Fatui, the puppet who now calls himself a Wanderer has nothing much to do except…wander. And that’s exactly what he does – except when you’re always at the back of his mind, he finds himself partaking in some strange behaviors.

- You’re his rose-colored lens; he sees the world in relation to you. Anything he sees during his travels that remotely reminds him of you is coming back to your shared home with him. Most times, when you come back home from work, he’ll wordlessly hand you his trinket for the day and then scurry away – but not too fast to the point where you miss the blush rising on his cheeks.

Today he hands you a flower. It dangles between his fingers, its purple petals illuminated by the yellow light of the lamp. Just like every day before this one, he’s found something to give to you. 

Unlike every day before this one, he meets your eyes, and speaks. 

“Well? Are you going to take it or not?” The former Fatui Harbinger’s words don’t come out nearly as brazen as he would have liked, but you’ve come to realize that his usually harsh tone has mellowed out over the past few months. Must be Nahida’s doing.

You take the rose from his hands and smile gently at him, your heart warming at the cute gesture. “It’s very beautiful, thank you.”

He grunts in response, but his facial expression softens in the lamp light, and you know he’s glad to see you accept his gift.

- He isn’t very good with words, and although he tries to be, it just never works in his favor. His main way of showing affection is physical touch, which comes easier to him than terms of endearment. Something in particular that you both seem to enjoy (especially him) is when he carries you in his arms bridal style.

- If he could carry you in his arms forever, he would. If it’s raining and the path that you both are walking along is filled with puddles, expect him to carry you above it. Similarly, he might scold you for falling asleep on the couch, but he secretly enjoys picking you up and carrying you over to your bed.

- However, if you ask him about his affinity for holding you, he’ll simply ignore your questions.

[tetitous]

OK I think I'm good to give my thoughts about the last 2 episodes now (warning, it's long)

I'm so fucking wilded out by the whole wakfu extraction scene. It was absolutely painful.

I have to applaud the transition between Yugo's old and new VA, it was super clean. I really like his voice, it's so soft and yet you feel it has some power in reserve, though for Valentin Vincent (yes, if you're an ff7 fan you see it, I see it too) to win over Fanny Bloc in my heart he'd need to give me a godlike performance, for now I need to grow used to the change.

I believe I said somewhere some time ago that Eliatrope landing on the WoT could have some drastic repercussions, seems like I was wrong then, I'm okay with that.

Poor Nora, I just- she's only ever done her best, she mourned for a brother who used her like a puppet, how fucking cruel is it that now her powers is what's putting the world in danger and there's nothing she can do about it. Efrim being so devoured by his hunger that he feels hatred for Eliatrope and doesn’t care about even his own twin sister is so sad. He calls Eliatrope an egoist, as if anyone was owed her life force, and he sees nothing but sustenance. I do remember someone saying that you become someone else when you discover what true hunger feels like, it's what him being folded in two over his own stomach reminded me of. I hope there is some way out for them, but I'm not sure that I can be hopeful.

Talking about that, Toross Mordal. He can't forget himself to his own anger, like the others, but his mind still can't prioritize anything else. It's interesting to me that to him Yugo was just a means of sustenance, and yet he showed him more sympathy seemingly than he did to Nora, the central piece to his plan. Does Yugo remind him of someone else? Himself? I also think a lot about the way he's on loop about how Eliatrope "could have kept on feeding his people for centuries", he says it so often, and I wonder if it's meant to parallel Eliatrope's "we're doomed" attitude. They're both on loop about their own situations.

The whole dichotomy between "monster" and "pure" seems to reach some conclusion, that probably being that these two concepts don't really mean anything but "who we feel like we're allowed to demonize or not".

It's very strong with Qilby, who's been labeled as both by people. He's been a blast those last 2 episodes, I wouldn't call it a redemption arc, but an acceptance of his complexity. Yugo was right in s2, Qilby cannot deal with loneliness, and moreso by the void. The one thing he really wants is for things to exist so that he can discover them, to compensate for his lack of connexion. Beyond that he understands that no one can truly get him, and that's okay, he seems to have done some self-reflection if he actually came to that conclusion without much anguish. He's reuniting with the one person who can get it, hopefully at some point some form of compromise can be done so that the White Dimension never becomes a necessity again.

Turns out Lokus WAS a Mechasm after all, interesting to have rebooted the species a little. You can be "worthy" of them, the conditions of this being kind of unclear. Given the parallels between the Eliacube and the Eliasphere, it seems, strangely enough, that both Yugo and Qilby have been deemed worthy. I'm kind of fascinated, I want to understand how they work a bit more, but I don't think we'll be given much answers.

I have so many thoughts about Yugo it's unreal. First I want to comb his hair, he's pretty but haircare isn't on point, tbf that's part of the charm I think. Because I really, really want to be the one to comb his hair. Yeah he's already going up there on the babygirl list. That's powerful.

The fact that Yugo has a mind protection mechanism thanks to the Eliotropes is beautiful to me. They, or at least Oropo, did want someone, anyone, to aknowledge them, and Yugo going from refusing to accept them to giving them a full Persona-style recognition was nice. I want to know more about them, specifically I want to see which aspects of them are their own, and which they originally got from Yugo, because I see them both as some extensions of Yugo and as their own people. To me, the moment you are separated from your "original being", you start to be "you", so something different. Oropo only being one of many actually helps me to appreciate him more. Still an asshole though. Yeah I do believe they're real, otherwise Yugo couldn't have come up with Bouillon, y'know? Let me just have some Yugo chilling with his not-quite-clones from time to time, let me figure out their individual deal.

Amalia is going to pop off, love that for her, curious about what her and Yugo's reunion is going to be like.

We heard nothing from the Percedals, well for now their big arc has been handled I guess, but they'll probably come back for the finale, their friends will need all the help they can get, after all. Actually so much of Eva's personality can be understood through the prism her abandonment issues, but her it doesn't feel like we have reached the point where her arc can be considered close, but her deciding to trust Flopin, trust the people around her, to give them love, really reminds us how far she's come from the person who refused to adress Amalia by anything other than "princess".

Also not much of Ruel, he's probably going to be torn between his two treasures: his money and his friends needing him, and Ruel is generous in the ways that matter. At least that's my expectations. Kinda wish we had more comic relief moments, but let's be real, it wouldn't have been appropriate atm.

I'm surprisingly normal about the fact eliatropes seem to be able to make their own clothes.

Did I say everything I wanted to say? Ah no, wait

The scene where Ad is being all self-depreciating and Qilby's coming back like "Hey, missed me?" Was hilarious, I actually laughed out loud and I really needed it.

Bro Qilby calling Amalia superficial. On the one hand she does rely a bit too much on appearances, on the other Qilby can talk, he doesn't know her and makes some pretty mean assumptions. Wrong ones at that, because Amalia knows Yugo and loves him beyond appearances, and so does Yugo. The irony of it all isn't lost on me.

Armand had such a wisdom glow up, good for him.

Other thoughts may come up, but that's what I have right now. Can't wait till next week I'm too excited

[authorxxxxxx]

Celebrity Crush | Erling Haaland x fem!shy!short!reader

Request :

Imagine you and Erling are each others celebrity crushes (reader is an f1 driver or whatever you want them to be) and she goes to her first Man City Game but she is nervous because even though these famous she is quite shy

Most of the city lads know about Erling crush so when they see her they tease him saying things like “ooo your girls here” Erling doesn’t believe it until he see you for himself

After the game (a win of course) you both meet up after and since it’s your first time meeting they are both really flustered

Erling asks them on a data and they exchange numbers

After there 5th date Erling confesses his love for the reader and is such a simp for her

Maybe if you are comfortable it ends in really soft smut between the two and even softer aftercare

Xxxxx

Ps- I love your writing your doing so well, keep it up 🩷🩷

__________

Thank you so much for requesting this imagine , the idea was amazing and I was so glad that I had the chance on writing it .

Again thank you all for the undying suuport < 3 ( I WILL NOT STOP TELLING YOU ) .

Tw : nervousness , shyness , shity friends , the fem!reader is described as short , AND SMUT ( I tried OK ? ) .

Ps . I was so happy writing this .

English isn't my first language , so if you spot a mistake , please just bare with me .

5k words : )

Enjoy < 3

______________________________________________________________

Reader's Pov

Being a F1 driver is not an easy thing . It is not an easy thing at all . Everyone is constantly judging you for everything .

Especially if you are the only woman in a sport that most people are men .

I am not saying that F1 is a man's sport . I've known a lot of women in the Formula world , it is just that everyone is hard one you when you are the only woman in Formula racing with other people . And it is even harder when you are racing in F1 .

Currently I'm sitting in Toto Wolff's office with Susie .

" I don't know what I did wrong . I didn't say anything to him ." I said to Susie about what happened a few minutes ago in the conference room .

I was sitting with Lewis , George and Mike and we were all waiting for the other drivers to show up so we could discuss some things for the upcoming season .

But someone had other plans . . .

A lot of drivers didn't even showed up .

Lewis was starting to lose his patience and after a couple of minutes he got up and tried to search for the others .

" Where are you going ? " I asked him quietly looking up at him .

" I just want to get this over with and go home as everybody else wants , but there are just a few of us . " He said angrily .

" Let me come with you . " I said to him and the moment I got up from my chair , a certain Red Bull driver whispered : " Puppet " .

After that I just left the conference room and didn't show up .

" Honey it wasn't your fault . Everyone is anxious for the race . He didn't really mean it . " Susie said trying to calm my down .

It wasn't really working .

When Toto came in followed by Lewis , we went through the situation again , and then decided that we all need a brake .

This was a really good opportunity to visit Manchester and my family.

Maybe go out with some of my friends .

__________

Manchester

I hate my friends .

We decided to go all out tonight , maybe at some bar and then head back home , but my friends decided to bring me to my first football mach with Manchester City against Chelsea .

Not because they wanted to watch a football game .

No .

Because they know about the crash I have on a certain striker .

Erling Braut Haaland .

The man isn't even aware about my existence .

So what am I even doing here ?

__________

Erling's Pov

" OOO YOUR GIRLS HERE " !!! Jack Grealish screamed to Erling while they werje training before the start of the game .

" Stop screaming man . What are you even saying ? " Erling asked his close friend .

" I saw her man . I swear . She is right over there in the VIP section . " Jack said to him while pointing out in the crowd .

Erling grabbed his hand shocked . " Stop pointing . Your blind . She's not here . I would have seen her . "

" Yeah right . " Jack said while trying to hold his laugh .

" Ayo bro . Y/N's here . " Phil said walking towards them .

And with that Erling started panicking and Jack bursted out laughing.

__________

" Famous F1 driver for the AMG Petronas team is in the house . " The presenter said quietly while your face showed on the big screen of the City stadium .

Erling was shocked .

He stoped dead in his track .

Your beautiful features right infront of him .

" She is so cute . " He said to himself not knowing that the cameras were filming his reaction .

The internet is going to be on fire tonight .

__________

" OMG Y/N YOU ARE ON THE SCREEN !!! " Your friend scream to you pointing at the camera .

" Huh ? " You asked quietly , but she was right . Your while face was on the screen .

Feelinh embarrassed you looked down and missed the face of your biggest crush looking at you .

" OMG Y/N ERLING IS LOOKING AT YOU !!! " Your friend scream at you again shaking you this time .

" No he doesn't . " You said with a red face .

" OMG Y/N THERE IS A VIDEO ON TWITTER . YOU ARE ERLING'S CRUSH . " Your friend said to you while looking at her phone screen .

Soon the game started .

__________

Manchester City won against Chelsea and Ofcourse Erling scored the goal .

Everyone was celebrating .

Even you .

You left the stadium . Your friend went home with an other guy and left you alone . You didn't brought your car with you .

" I miss my Benz now . " You said to yourself while looking down walking to the parking session and then head out , when suddenly you heard laughs and voices .

" Oi Y/N how are you ? Did you liked the game ? You know Erling scored a goal . " Jack said to you while you saw Erling Haaland himself for the first time behing him .

When Jack started walking towars you , Erling went behind him and in a matters of seconds they were both right in front of you .

You and Erling were both looking at each other .

Didn't say a word .

" Erling has a really big crush on you Y/N and by your looks you seem to have too . I'll leave you both to it . " Jack said proud of himself and then walked away , leaving you both looking at each other .

__________

" Your face is really red . " Erling said quietly while looking down at you.

" Your really tall . " You too said guietly while looking up at him .

When you two realished what you both told one another you started laughing .

" Can I have your number ? " Erling asked you smiling .

" Ofcourse . "

" Do you have a ride home ? I can take you if you want . " He told you .

That night were he drove you home , you had your first date . It was a long drive and you got to know some things about each other .

" Will I see you again ? " He asked you when you reached your house .

" We can go out tomorrow for dinner . Is it okay with you ? " You asked him with a smile .

" Yes it is . " He answered and you gave him a kiss on the cheek .

After that you thanked him again and got out .

__________

You were both sitting in a park near your apartment , eating burger's and drinking Ice Tea .

" Are you sure you should be eating those things ? " You askeh him once again .

" No but I'm not gonna tell anyone and neither do you . " He answered and kissed your cheek smiling .

You were both dating for a couple of months and things have been great .

You loved him , but you were really afraid telling him .

" I am gonna delete my Instagram account . " Erling said defeated . " Everyone keeps calling me a simp and Jack encourages them . " He added and you laughed .

God . . . how much he loved you . Your smile , your eyes , your laugh .

" I know it's only been a while , but I think I love you . I really do . " He confessed and you could sense that he was worried that you might not share the same feelings .

But you interrupted his thoughts .

" I think I am in love with you too . I mean I know it's only been two months , but we are both happy and we are having a great time . We don't have to be anxious about it right ? " You said looking him in the eyes .

Suddenly you started kissing .

You didn't even know how you ended up in your apartment .

Erling holding your hands beside your head , your legs spread out for him , slowly sliding in and out of you .

All you could think about was him .

Only him .

The way he was giving you so much pleasure , but at the same time he was so soft with you .

Leaving kisses and hickeys on your neck and your collarbone's .

Holding each other like your entire life's depended on it .

Him kissing you like the worls was ending .

But the way his hips found yours in every thrust made you see oblivion .

You could feel him twitching everytime a soft moan escaped your mouth .

When he was close he left your hands and wrapped them beneath your back and your head embracing you in a thigh and warm hug .

Your hands found their way into his hair .

You were close too . He could feel you squeezing him everytime he reached a certain spot .

After a couple of minutes he bottomed out .

You reacher your high .

Both feeling high .

He didn't let you go for a second that night .

Holding each other , laughing , telling stories , having sex again , kissing .

And when the morning sun made it's appearance , you finally fell asleep .

__________

@unimportantbabymilksharkte

@evarasworld

[maverickscorner]

Faber suae fortunae

Or Maider's love story towards freedom.

Chapter 7

Maider and Tenax woke up after only a few hours of sleep.

And it showed.

They both had dark circles under their eyes, and they struggled to get out of bed and meet each other in the main hall and outside the house.

–Good morning– said Tenax.

Maider replied with a grunt that was meant to be a greeting but remained just a grunt.

Tenax sighed, and they started walking down to the Circus Maximus.

Maider seemed lost in thought. She wasn’t speaking.

"Strange", Tenax thought. "She’s usually quite talkative".

He also thought that he liked hearing the sound of her voice, but he quickly dismissed the thought.

–So?

–Huh?

–Why the morning silence?

–I thought my lord and master wouldn’t mind a bit of quiet.

Tenax looked up at the sky.

–What’s wrong?

–Tenax– she said, seeking his gaze –A conversation takes two people. One talks, and the other responds. And vice versa.

–Do you think I don’t know the rules of etiquette?

–I have my doubts, but that’s not the point.

–So what is the point?

Maider chose her words carefully. She knew how easily he could get irritated, but she had woken up particularly combative herself.

–I appreciated that you listened to me last night. But when it came to listen to you...

She shot him a meaningful look. He furrowed his brow.

–I’m not a puppet, Maider. I don’t speak on command.

–I’m not so insolent to imply that. I know what you’ve done for me, and I appreciate it very much. And perhaps it's that... you’re not just my master. I trust you. I’d like to have that same consideration from you.

Tenax stopped. He looked at her, a little taken aback. Maider had the audacity of a front-line legionary. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say.

–I’m not like you, Maider– he told her.

Maider felt a little hurt.

–Oh, thanks.

–No, you’re... an open book. My book is better left closed.

Maider met his gaze.

Time stood still again.

–If it makes you suffer, so be it.

Tenax shook his head.

–I can’t afford to suffer, or to feel any other emotion.

Maider stepped closer to him.

–But you do. Sometimes... I can see it.

Tenax didn’t look away from her.

–Let that be a secret between us, then.

Maider seemed torn. Despite belonging to him, Tenax had always treated her with great delicacy. Now, as she selfishly felt that something was about to blossom between them, she didn’t want to force things or follow her instinct too much.

Even though her instinct had always gotten her out of the tensest situations.

So, not knowing what else to do, Maider nodded firmly without saying anything.

She nodded and strode towards the tavern.

Tenax found himself standing in the middle of the road, alone, decidedly bewildered.

Time before, another version of himself would have cursed her for her behavior, or worse, dragged her back home and forced her to scrub the main hall’s floors with the smallest brush.

But this was Maider.

And Maider was important to him.

So he went after her.

–Maider!

He noted with some disappointment that she was only slightly shorter than him and had a particularly fast pace.

He sighed in frustration and finally caught up to her.

–Damn it– he said –You’re ridiculously fast.

–My father didn’t leave me much, except long legs– she muttered.

–You said you don’t know anything about me, but I don’t know anything about you either– he said, impulsively.

She raised her eyebrows, surprised.

–I told you about my trauma.

–Yet you didn’t go into many details.

Tenax realized he had chosen his words poorly when he saw her flush with anger.

–And what should I tell you, my lord and master? I believe you have no shortage of imagination!

–And yours, with me? Do you think a master is obliged to tell his slave what happened to him as a child?

Maider understood. Tenax fell silent. He had said too much.

–Tenax, I...– she began.

–Forget what I said.

–All right. I would never ask you such deep things without you being sure to tell them.

–Good.

Without realizing it, they had arrived at the tavern.

–Maider...

–No, you’re right. I overstepped, and I apologize.

And she moved towards the entrance.

Tenax gently took her hand. A pleasant shiver ran from that touch through the rest of their bodies.

–In my life, I’ve always had to fight. I was... I was a slave too. A beautiful kid.

Maider sighed, looking into his eyes.

–You're still not that bad.

Before Tenax could internalize those words and blush like a teenager, they heard footsteps. It was Nica.

–Maider!– the little girl exclaimed, hugging her –I missed you.

Maider smiled at her.

–Good morning, little one! Have you eaten?

–Yes. Can we have the singing lesson we talked about yesterday?

–Of course! Let’s go.

–Yay! Bye, Tenax!– Nica said, waving her hand. He returned the wave with a smile.

He watched Maider walk away with Nica, feeling a sense of unspoken that took his breath away. He told himself he needed to learn how to open up in the healthiest way possible.

Otherwise, she would make him do it without him even realizing it.

And he would thank her for it.

***

Tyrone was a thirty-seven-year-old man, Cala's age, with dark skin and an imposing physique.

Tenax had hired him into the Golden Faction shortly after the deaths of Andria and Fonsoa Corsi. They needed someone to help Elia with the horses, and Tyrone, in Numidia, had owned a farm with a stable of thoroughbreds until the Romans confiscated it. Then, widowed and with a seven-year-old son, he had left the little boy with his sister and traveled to Rome in search of a work that would allow him to send some money home.

Although Domitian had wanted the chariot races to end, the Roman people were still too attached to the various Factions, so the stakes, after some uncertainty, had been purchased by three great Roman families, who had recreated, in addition to Tenax’s Golden Faction, the Blue, White, and Red Factions.

So yes, it was at Tenax's Golden Faction that Tyrone had found work as a stableman, alongside Elia Corsi, who had recently become the father of a beautiful baby girl.

Their shared passion for horses had brought Tyrone and Elia closer, and Elia had introduced Tyrone to his wife Jula, and then to her mother Cala.

There had been an immediate spark between Cala and Tyrone.

From just catching glimpses of each other at the stables, he had asked her out a first, second, and third time. With her children's blessing, Cala had agreed, and they had started a wonderful relationship that had been going strong for several months. Despite his height and bulk, Tyrone was an extremely gentle man, and Cala loved this characteristic of his.

That day, shortly after lunch, Tyrone joined Cala at the tavern.

Seeing him, Cala's face lit up. She put down what she was doing and walked over to him. They kissed.

–Hey, so great to see you. Do you need something to eat?– she asked him.

–Yes. Has Maider performed already?

–Yes, she just finished. Look, she’s over there...

And she pointed to a table where Maider was devouring a roasted chicken leg.

Cala smiled.

–That girl is a force of nature. Every time, it’s as if she hasn’t eaten in days.

Tyrone laughed.

–Singing makes her hungry, Cala.

Then he lowered his voice, glancing around.

–And Tenax?

–Probably in a meeting with the other Factions’ owners or the officials in charge of the games. Busier than ever, and yet...

–Yet?

Cala lightly slapped his shoulder.

–I didn’t think you were so gossipy, my dear.

–Come on, don’t keep me in suspense.

–And yet, this morning, the kids saw Maider and him arguing just outside the tavern.

Tyrone furrowed his brow.

–Huh? Isn’t that a bad thing?

Cala took his arm, leaning closer to him.

–Aura, who was nearby with Iris, told me there was a good percentage of sexual tension involved.

–What?

–You heard me right. There’s strong chemistry, but they’re still studying each other. As far as I’m concerned, I hope this mutual study continues and bears fruit.

Tyrone smiled at her.

–You care a lot about him, don’t you?

–We’ve been through a lot. He deserves to be happy, just like I do.

–Then we’ll see, my dear. If it’s meant to be, it will happen.

She kissed him, watching Maider from a distance.

–Let’s hope so, my dear. Let’s hope.

***

Hey guys! Eli here. Hope you like this new transition chapter. Let me know in the comments what you think ❤️ Thank you sm

[rewritethisstxry]

Hello! Would you be willing to write Heisenberg from RE8 kissing his crush for the first time?

Hello! Thanks for being my first request. I hope this is to your liking! Karl decided he wanted to be a little stubborn for it.

Ultimately Your Decision

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg x nameless character

Warnings: None

It was rare that Karl had something that he could covet and keep secret. All for himself and no one else's eyes. Sure, he had his factory and all the experimentation that he did deep within the bowels of it. But this thing? It was entirely different. Enough so that it tore his attention in two. An act that left him both wanting more and a little resentful that his time was taken away. True freedom couldn't be obtained until Miranda was disposed of, after all. Dreams and ideas of the future were pointless unless Miranda was no longer controlling them all like puppets on strings. 

Not that any of his siblings saw it that way, all dancing and jumping when asked. No, they were content with the way that life was. Doubtful that they had made peace, but they had all twisted it and morphed their existence into content lives in the middle of this hellhole. Not Karl. No. He had clung to the hatred, the pain, the rage that Miranda had fostered and cultivated deep within. 

The one little light amongst it all? The piece of what had to be something akin to normalcy that he found in his companion within the factory. Not that he knew what the hell constituted normalcy at this point. His entire cursed life had been more or less spent in the hellhole of a village with the bitch looming over him. That was besides the point though. His assistant had at first been nothing more than a body to help out, someone the lycan had found half dead. The potential was there when Karl had seen the fight in them, how they were practically half dead but still trying to fend off the beasts that circled. 

Nursing them back to health had been an odd chore. Karl was far more used to destroying dead bodies than he was caring for the living ones. Even when it came to the soldiers he made, they weren't living, and certainly, he didn't give a shit about what happened to them. Minus complete destruction because that just meant more work for himself. Something about the additional life within the factory did something to the man. It had all been trial and error, something that he struggled with, and they did just the same. It had taken a good three weeks for them to not shy away from his touch. Something that perturbed him to no end. 

At first, he had hid from it, railed and bucked like a snarling animal against it all. There wasn't a chance that he had feelings for them. No. It ruined everything that he was working for. Shoving it all down and ignoring it by throwing himself into work, Karl did his best to not pay attention and keep distance between them both. Distance meant that he could continue to deny the feelings, could ignore their presence, and pretend that it never existed. 

The problem? Distance didn't do shit. And couldn't exactly be had even in the massive factory that was called home. Not when the help was needed to make sure that everything stayed in order and running smoothly. It became harder and harder to deny the way that his chest both warmed and constricted when their eyes met. Hell, it happened when he was merely in their presence. Stronger and stronger each damn time. Karl was ready to pull his hair out. 

Nothing he was doing made it any easier, and it wasn't going away. Just another thing in his life that was out of his control, with no way around it. 

Which was the exact situation that he found himself in as the weather cooled down outside the factory walls. Not that a lot of time was spent outside, but the warmth didn't seem as overbearing. It was also the time that Miranda tended to call fewer meetings, not completely stopping but fewer. So, there he was, working on another soldier. 

His eyes were flickering between where his hands were finishing up implanting the new heart and the individual across from him who was prepping the visor. 

An unconscious smile worn, Karl was moving on autopilot through the motions, familiar enough that he could have done it in his sleep. Thankfully. 

"Let me get this on before you finish up there." This time, he was caught staring, and he knew it. There was no way to deny it. Clearing his throat, Karl decided to instead act like nothing had happened. Nodding,he pushed himself back from the table, leaving room for the placement of the visor, all before he allowed the corpse to reanimate.

"Yeah, okay. All yours Cupcake." The close proximity meant that Karl was immediately assaulted by the scents that cIung to their skin. The old dry blood that lingered from their work combined with some unique underlying sweetness that Karl had never been able to quite figure out. Well, more like refused to allow himself to figure out if he was honest. The sort that haunted his dreams when he was able to get the little sleep that he managed. Sometimes, it was just in the background. Sometimes, it mixed into his nightmares, and on the rare occasion, he was able to enjoy the lingering hints of something pleasant. Even if he wasn't ever able to remember exactly what that pleasant thing was. Those were the mornings that had ultimately pushed him towards accepting the feelings instead of so violently fighting against it all.

Karl prided himself on the control he had over his actions and reactions. In that moment, however, he had absolutely no control. They were too close, and the battle that he had been waging on and within himself had pressed the cultivated patience to their limits. His hand slid along their hip, a touch that wasn't entirely unusual when they were working. The next one was though, and Karl knew that he caught them off guard. His nose pressed into the back of their head, taking in a deep breath. That sweet scent was overpowering this close. A groan wanted to work its way from the back of his throat. It was by the skin of his teeth that he managed to swallow the sound. No need to freak them out even more. The way that they had tensed had told him enough. They hadn't tensed like that under his touch since those first few weeks.

Spinning them around, he was able to look them in the eye properly. It was that moment that he also realized that this was something that was completely in his control. It wasn't this thing that was meant to cause him grief anel be another reminder of what little in his life he had choice over.

" Karl, what…" He didn't give them any other chance to finish that sentence. His lips crashed against theirs, savoring the surprised gasp that caused them to open their mouth to his. It was a hell of a first kiss. And Karl vowed right there that it wouldn't be the last.

[comfortabletogether]

akane,teruya,kanade,hibiki and nikei (seperate) w/ a f!s/o who acts like/is similar to charlie morningstar,from hazbin hotel? like s/os family has high/decent social standing,but isnt entirely respected,believes theres good in everyone,is highly optimistic,but also rly stubborn,ect.

thank you for the request!! I appreciate the support!!

Sorry I’m advance but i ended up loosing a lot of momentum while writing this along with the fact that I didn’t actually love Hazbin Hotel. I didn’t have enough energy to do Hibiki and Nikei. I also didn’t exactly know what to write for them either. My apologies for dw I’ll probably write a part 2 when my requests open again!!

WARNING: SPOILERS; KANADE; MENTIONS OF KINJO

~ Mod Haruhiko ✈️

Akane Taira

🫧 Akane treasures your optimistic, go-getter attitude. She feels inspired by it, and whatever project you are working on she’ll be there for support, as you will always be to her. 

🫧 She has seen some of the horrors the world has to offer, from a nasty orphanage that caught on fire to the mistreatment she’s gotten working as a maid. Akane feels slightly protective over you because of your naive.

🫧 You and Yuki are a lot alike in Akane’s eyes, wanting to help solve almost everyone’s problems. And she’ll be there with the two of you, and she will often remind you that you aren’t responsible for everyone’s wellbeing.

🫧 In this vile killing game, your optimism and persistence is one of the only things that truly keep her going. In a situation that has so much blood spilt she looks up to you.

🫧 Although Akane feels lucky to be able to spend time with you, she gets really scared when you hang out with other people except Yuki for some reason. But she’s terrified someone will take your naive and trusting nature for granted.

🫧 Akane loves you so dearly, you are a beacon of life and hope in her life. Her way to finally love someone and have that be reciprocated.

Kanade Otonokoji

🎵 Kanade enjoys your cheerful attitude she finds it funny at first wondering how long it would take for you to break. because nobody could really be that nice and wonderful, right?

🎵 You worked were a graphic designer who helped create Melody Rythme’s posters for their charity concerts. And despite Hibiki being constantly her puppet Kanade was quickly growing bored. That’s when she realized that she valued you as a person as well, and immediately assumed you out.

🎵 Kanade became possessive and protective over you, wanting you to only help her. You were so kind and wonderful why would you want to waste your energy on someone irrelevant when you could be helping her? Don’t you want to help your girlfriend after her sister pushed her over?

🎵 Kanade typically uses your naive nature against you. She loves you and she doesn’t understand how to love without manipulation. But if someone else tries to attempt to manipulate you, Kanade will go apeshit on them. Because how dare they?? That’s Kanade’s job

🎵 But being around you makes Kanade feel like she is improving as a person more. That she’s becoming a better person for example she hasn’t killed anyone in almost half a year. She loves that you are changing her for the better.

🎵 Kanade probably writes all the love songs on her and Hibiki’s albums, and they are all about you and the stuff you and Kanade had done together. For example one of the tracks is your name backwards and it’s a bunch of imagery of a gorgeous girl. (Same vibes as Jolene but gay).

Teruya Otori

💴 When Kinjo brings you in to work for the intelligence Team on the Kisaragi foundation, Teruya was a bit skeptical. Especially after Utsuro had told them that the police force had fallen into despair but Kinjo reassured them that you were a trusted ally.

💴 Apparently you had also been related to Kinjo, being second or third cousins but still if Kinjo trusted you, then Teruya would too.

💴 The first thing he noticed was how different you were to Kinjo, especially in your beliefs. While the two of you are both headstrong and stubborn, you believe that even the worst of people should be able to have a second chance. That is probably what drew him towards you the most.

💴 He had experienced firsthand the horrors of this world, and therefore he is very protective over you. You are too easily trusting and that could lead to a situation similar to one’s he has seen in the past.

💴 Due to your stubbornness though, it’s very common that you and Keisuke or Tsurugi would get into fights and the talk palm tree will often have to physically separate you and them. He’s always proud of you for standing up for what you believe in and Teruya might end up developing your beliefs.

💴 Teruya is really entrapped by your kind and pleasant nature, and that you want to help people in need and trust me Teruya is in plenty of need of emotional support. After that Killing Game— he is so messed up. 

[ynisreal]

wires (8) - michael afton x reader

author´s note: helloooo tumblr! so, i've already uploaded these two chapters to ao3, because my main fan work consumption is on the site… sorry for the delay in posting them here :P summary: Michael tells you part of the truth. You and Michael clean up the establishment. Where is Ennard?

"You know what his goal is, right?" Henry's voice echoes in Michael's memories. Of course he knows, that same goal was hinging and hammering on Michael's memories all the way to your house. "Ennard must be looking for a new body to camouflage himself with again," Henry reminds the younger man of each metallic limb entering his stomach and wearing his skin like a coat. Michael wasn't going to forget the animatronic's purpose, having experienced first-hand what the big robot intended to do.

"I know, but he won't be able to find one so quickly. The person he chooses has to be injected by Remnant through the scooper before he dies or, anyway - during, as happened to me," Michael's answer to Henry's question pops into his memory, reminding him of the seriousness of the situation they were in, "I don't think Ennard knows about this, so until he finds out, there will be other bodies just like Noah's, failed attempts to find a puppet for this piece of shit."

That's Michael's fear. It's the same fear that makes him hold on a little tighter to the hands that are intertwined on his torso. You notice the change in his grip, finally understanding that you weren't the only one afraid of going back to the establishment. All along the way, Michael has been giving you these little indications that he was also afraid of what had happened, even though he didn't want to show it to you. The sudden grip on your hands, the slightly controlled breathing and the tension in the broad shoulders of the man in front of you. When there was a red light and Michael's motorcycle stopped, the man's hands brushed against your thigh, his anxious fingers tapping out a frantic rhythm on your skin. Honestly, you feel a little guilty for not comforting him, but you know how serious Michael is about his secrets and what he decides to share, so you don't want to force an opening and end up fighting with him again. You don't have the strength to get into a fight about who yells the loudest with Michael right now, with the vivid images of Noah's organs racing through your head.

"Thank you for coming to pick me up," you thank him, trying once again to distract yourself and Michael from the fear you were both feeling on your way back to the establishment. "Sure, I promised I'd help you carry the weight on your back, and I'm going to do just that," Michael replies, in a slightly happier tone than his demeanor showed. He was trying to reassure you and show confidence, which you could appreciate in him.

You smile under the large helmet that surrounds your face, "Is this the extra helmet you use when you offer girls a ride?" you joke, trying once again to ease the tension in his shoulders. However, this seems to have the opposite effect when you feel his shoulders tense up once again, perhaps even a little more. This makes you open your mouth in shock, "Wow, here I was just joking, and little did I know that I was another one of your victims," you imitate an angry tone, wanting to hear what Michael's response would be.

"Calm down, it was only two," Michael replies quickly, turning his helmeted head slightly in your direction, keeping his eyes on the road. "Apart from you, of course," the last comment being added in an obviously teasing tone, the man clearly amused by the little jealous tantrum you were throwing. "Hm, I see, should I assume that they also worked with you? Or that you also wrote them notes?" you add, continuing to dramatize the situation, amused by the lightness in which you and Michael were chatting, which completes its task in distracting both of you from the fear hanging over both your minds.

"No, that was just you," Michael says seriously, which surprises you a little, given the joking tone the subject was taking.

It's true. You feel it almost immediately.

"I didn't used to get too involved with the people I had sex with or talked to, that only started with you," Michael adds, not really caring what his words meant or what they suggested.

True. Again.

Your cheeks immediately blush. Shit, how Michael had the ability to dominate your thoughts and make the problems surrounding your head seem like ants next to his magnitude. "Well, what's in the past doesn't matter, I'm glad you've changed. You're the kind of person that everyone would love to meet," you replied awkwardly, not knowing how to react to Michael's sudden confession, letting the first words that came into your mind take over your facial muscles and spill out of your mouth.

Michael doesn't answer. After all, that clumsy little reply of yours brought a light into Michael's mind. He had changed, after meeting you, after so many months locked in the silence and darkness of the establishment, after dying and having to drag his own corpse out of a dark alley, Michael had changed. And this change was a good one, of course he still had certain reactions or behaviors that were already automatic in his brain, but even unconsciously, he had opened up to you, he wanted that opening. Michael was willing to open all his scars for you to look inside, through all the blood and pain.

"We're here," Michael says, seeing such the familiar establishment lurking on the sidewalk. You raise your head to look through the tinted window of the helmet, feeling your stomach rise in your throat and threaten to come out of your mouth. Days passed, Noah's case was still open, analyzing suspects, the sun still rose and fell the same way as before, but your fear was still there. Michael's company made you feel safer, knowing that neither you nor he would ever walk those same corridors alone, but it was inevitable that you would create various scenarios in your head about how the two of you would end up dead in the same way as Noah.

Michael noticed your hesitation, so he squeezed your hand that was still wrapped around his torso, signaling that he would be entering with you. He would help you carry the tiring weight of fear, even if his hands were growing calluses from having carried the same fear alone for several years.

The engine noise ceases and you look around the parking lot, unaccustomed to the scenery belonging to the establishment. You remove your helmet awkwardly, wrinkling your nose as you feel some of your hair being pulled along with the material. Your eyes meet the dark glass of Michael's helmet, and you wait a few seconds, a little confused by your companion's delay, when it finally hits you.

"Do you want me to go in first?" you ask, your voice soft and your head tilting slightly in sympathy. Michael's gentle laugh makes itself known and he lifts his hand to stroke your cheek.

"No need, just wait for me at the exit to the parking lot," he replies, knowing that you would feel uncomfortable entering the establishment alone, but you still wanted to make him comfortable. Michael still had no plans to show his face to you, that hadn't changed, so he appreciated your respect for his secret.

You nod and give him a small kiss on the hand that was hidden in a glove, which you assumed was part of the bike's equipment. Your footsteps echoed through the establishment as you walked up to the large red door that marked "Exit" in black letters. Michael waited until the footsteps were far enough for him to take off his helmet, wrinkling his nose when he felt bits of skin from his face getting stuck in the material. Shit, he would have to buy a wider helmet to avoid the cracks that were forming in his face, leading to some black patches from the necrotic muscles. He picks up the backpack he had brought, reaching for his hoodie and the black surgical mask he had brought. After lifting the hood from the hoodie, the upper part of his face was hidden, along with the lower part which was covered by the mask.

After a few minutes, you hear Michael's footsteps echoing through the garage, signaling to you that he was coming to meet you. "Is this the exit?" you ask, given that he's been working in the establishment longer than you. Michael saw the red door next to you and made a positive sign with his hands, showing you the new bandages that covered his fingers and hands. The famous mask and hood you were used to seeing every week are back, and you finally realize how much you had missed Michael. Honestly, you were grateful. A lot of feelings went through your head these last few days, especially with Noah's death and the story Henry told you, which helped you realize that: life is grey. It doesn't judge, it doesn't help or facilitate nor does it hinder or slow you down. Life gives what it can, and now, you were extremely grateful for what little Michael shared with you. Whether it was a blind kiss, a faceless figure or sweet words that were muffled by the mask. Life gave it to you, and you felt grateful for what seemed so little to other people, but was immense to you. And for Michael too.

"And the wage earners always come back to collect their wages," Michael said casually, letting out a theatrical sigh as he opened and held the large, eye-catching door for you to pass through. You let out a small laugh, "True, the chocolates my sister likes are very expensive these days," the same joking tone in the man's voice is heard in your own, enjoying the light mood you were starting the shift in. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's just your sister who eats them," Michael says sarcastically, calling the elevator as he pushes the button that instantly lights up. You let out another laugh, pushing the man's arm a little too hard, just to provoke him. But honestly, with the short contact of your hand on his toned arm, you realize that even if you had used one hundred percent of your strength, Michael might not have moved at all.

The elevator finally opens its doors, making a loud noise, as apparently all the doors in this establishment do. Michael lets you in first, extending his arm between the open space of the doors to prevent them from closing. As you enter that familiar environment, the reality of the place you're returning to makes itself present in your stomach again. Memories of you running through the corridors and praying to any entity that would listen to you so that you wouldn't be the next victim return to your mind, letting the discomfort begin to grow in your body. You are not alone is what you try to repeat to yourself, as an attempt to stabilize your anxiety. And it was the reality, you weren't alone, Michael was with you, the man who always tried to help you and ease your worries, why should this time be any different? It wouldn't.

The man next to you found your sudden silence strange, imagining that the memories and traumas of that night must be tormenting you. He still didn't know the details of what you had done or what you had thought on that day, only receiving the narrative through indirect sources—via Henry and the reports the older man had brought home. His imagination filled in some of the gaps, relying on the fact that Michael had been through similar experiences a few times to make accurate assumptions. "Close your eyes," Michael says impulsively, his voice coming out hoarse, surprising even himself as if his body had taken action before he realized what he was about to do.

You hardly needed time to react, immediately complying with Michael's request and allowing your sight to be stripped away. Your swift response exuded desperation, a realization that left you a little embarrassed. It became clear how effortlessly Michael could read your body language, especially in your most vulnerable moments. Your other senses took over, enabling you to listen to Michael's movements. You heard the elastic of the mask being stretched and the friction of the material against the man's skin, indicating that he had removed the object. Almost immediately afterward, your sense of touch allowed you to feel Michael's lips meeting yours. The kiss was slow and sweet, the small cuts on the man's mouth adding a subtle tickle, especially when you reached out to grab the material of his hoodie, bringing the two of you even closer. The affirmation you sought was present in the shared kiss—Michael was here. The same Michael who had promised to help you, no matter how challenging things became.

The sound of the elevator doors opening echoes through the closed room and you feel Michael's hand cover your eyes, even though you've kept them closed. The sweet taste of the man's lips disappears, replaced by the cold breeze that envelops the bare lower part of your face. "We're here," Michael whispers, his husky voice close to your ear. You nod positively, a little nervous about your prolonged lack of sight. The hand covering your eyes finally leaves, allowing your vision to return, the dim lighting of the establishment invading your eyesight again, irritating you slightly.

You glance at Michael, who already has his mask back on. The affirmation you were repeating was now firmly in your mind, so you didn't hesitate to take the first step, making your way towards the heavy, noisy doors of the main hall. This time, the loud sound didn't startle you, showing how determined your brain is to ignore any kind of fear, focusing solely on the mantra hammering away at the back of your mind. Michael follows you, satisfied that the little bit of encouragement he provided in the kiss worked, pleased with the image in front of him: you attempting to move forward. It won't be easy, but he can try to make it easier for you.

Michael follows you, noticing how you're walking a bit too fast through the main hall, searching for the cleaning utensils to organize the chaos that the police and investigators had left behind. Michael's strong arm appears in the corner of your vision as you reach for the mop bucket.

"Doll, slow down, I'm here to help you," his voice is once again close to your ear, "I'm glad you're determined, but don't forget that I also have my role in helping you," he continues, grabbing the bucket with ease and placing it on the floor in front of you.

"Okay, sorry, I'm just afraid this wave of motivation is gonna leave too soon," you express, rubbing your hands on your uniform, a sign of your sudden hyperactivity. "So don't use it all up within seconds, just take a deep breath and calmly use up your motivation battery, so you don't go into total denial about everything that happened," Michael says calmly, raising his arm to pick up the other utensils. "Honestly, denial would be a good way to deal with all this," you admit, watching as the man in front of you, once again, gathers up all the items and then leaves you empty-handed.

Michael turns his head towards you, letting the dim light illuminate the upper part of his face. With so many emotions over the last few days, you'd forgotten: Michael's eyes were completely dark. A dark black that consumed all the light in the room and didn't reflect a single glint. You remember the drawing you made that associated this feature, which at the time you thought was imaginary on your part, with the eyes of a powerful villain. It's true, it was a look that would make any villain envy the darkness and emptiness that his gaze conveys. But you couldn't possibly think that about his gaze, knowing that Michael wasn't a villain, at least not in your eyes. You looked away, not wanting Michael to find out that his eyes were uncovered. After all, if he kept secrets, you could keep yours.

"Don't say that," the man's voice is serious, "Denial won't do any good, in fact, reality will only hit harder afterwards," Michael says. Truth, you feel it again. Damn, you wish you could tear your insides apart so you could stop feeling these intuitions. Feeling your body betraying you and agreeing with Michael.

"Yeah," you reply dryly, in denial about being able to stay in denial, basically. "I hate to be cliché, but time heals all wounds, and well, justice heals other wounds too," Michael looks back at the shelves, reaching for the cleaning cloths and gloves.

"Have you experienced this before?" your voice comes out hoarse, a little frustrated with Michael's advice, not wanting to accept the reality that you would have to cope with your emotions and fears. The man doesn't stop in his movements, continuing to throw the cloths he found into the bucket in front of you. He takes a few seconds to respond, as if he's thinking about what to say.

"Yes," Michael says, "Noah wasn't the first death in this establishment."

Well, what the fuck? Isn't this kind of information usually shared with new employees?

You don't answer, your body speaks for itself, your eyes going wide and your hands clenching your uniform. "What do you mean?" your voice comes out a little broken, your fear returning almost instantly. Michael realizes this, so he makes the decision to tell you this story in another manner. "I'm going to tell you, I just need you to close your eyes so I can comfort you," he says, his voice heavy with anxiety. Shit, it was hard having to be careful about the secrecy of his appearance and keeping you physically close at such times.

You sigh and close your eyes again. Michael brings you close, covering the top of your face once again with his hand and letting his other hand caress the fabric of your uniform that was covering your shoulder. "It's been a while since that body was found," Michael is careful with his words, not wanting to scare you or expose himself too much, "Henry, the man you met, was the one who found the body, but the killer was already identified in that case, so you don't have to-"

"Did this man come back to life, or did something happen to him after death?" you ask curiously, remembering the tale Henry had told you. You really didn't believe that the man had come back to life, so you assumed that it must be some kind of lesson or significance that the employees of this establishment shared. Well, you were partly right.

"What do you mean?", the hand on your shoulder stops abruptly, surprised by your question. "Henry told me that he knew a story about a man who had another chance in life after he died," you explain, your hand reaching for Michael's to return the caress on your shoulder that was helping you to calm down, "Well, I assumed that it was a well-known tale in the establishment, and since Henry found the body, he may have tried to pass it on to me," you conclude, a little confused by your own statement. "Forget it, I must look crazy," you add, finally finding Michael's hand as you feel the familiar bandages around your fingers.

Michael smiles beneath his mask, evidently Henry must have shared the story of his death with you. "Would you like the story to end like that?" Michael asks, resuming his caress on your shoulder, "For the corpse that Henry found to come back to life?". You think for a few seconds, not understanding Michael's question, but regardless, you decide to answer: "Yes, it would be less gruesome than ending up with Henry running around the corridors afraid of being the next one, just like me," you shrug, the sincerity in your voice making your speech seem a little too casual for the reality of your statement.

"Okay," Michael smiles, a smile so big that he's afraid the necrotic tissue on his cheek will tear deeply. "You mentioned that the killer was identified, is he under arrest?" you ask.

That's going to be impossible to explain, Michael thinks.

"No," the man replies sincerely, not wanting to delve into who, or rather what, the killer was. "That's why I'm here with you, it's safer for both of us, and believe me, I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that these same stories don't repeat themselves with you or your sister."

"My sister?" you vocalize, your hand that was stroking Michael's bandages quickly ceasing. "Michael, what does my sister have to do with this?", your voice sounds irritated, which makes Michael hesitate in his movements. Shit, he said too much.

"She has nothing to do with it, Y/n, calm down," Michael blurted out as he felt your hand grip his tightly. Not that it was actually hurting, but he could sense the desperation in your tone. "I only vocalized my concern for both of you, I know how much you love and care for her."

"Okay, but why should the murder in this establishment worry my sister?" you asked once again, the irritation you felt still not subsiding.

"There's a killer on the loose, Y/n, that's what I'm saying, we don't know where he is," Michael knows that what he's telling you is the opposite of comforting or calming you, but it's the truth. He didn't want you walking the streets carefree or letting your sister come home from school completely alone. Ennard was still on the loose, and he was testing bodies until he could find one that would hold up, which won't happen until Ennard realizes that the corpse needs Remnant.

You sigh, letting the depth of Michael's statement settle within you. He was presenting facts that were difficult to accept, the realization that your sister or other people could be in danger. You couldn't afford to let fear paralyze you, to be as openly vulnerable as you were being, you needed strength and courage in this moment, especially since your little sister depended on your protection and care.

While Michael could bring you comfort and motivation, this line of thinking brought you courage and determination. You had to control your emotions, after all, it wasn't just your life that depended on it.

It worried the man when he didn't hear any response from you, but soon after, he listened to your breathing become more controlled, as if you were trying to calm your thoughts and stabilize your heart. "I understand, thank you for clarifying that to me," you finally reply, your voice strangely calm, "I needed to hear that, thank you Michael," you add, raising your hand to caress his other hand, which was still positioned over your eyes.

Michael smiles, satisfied with the conclusion of the confusing and unexpected conversation you two shared. So he carefully lowers his mask, sealing the discussion you two had with a small kiss, just to bring you and him a sense of comfort and closeness after a sensitive conversation for both of you.

When you feel the hand being removed from your eyes, Michael is already wearing his mask and standing at the same distance he considers safe. Your gaze falls on the utensils already positioned in the bucket, apart from the mop and broom in Michael's hands. You crouch down to pick up the bucket with the cloths and cleaning products, but Michael's arm reaches for the item before you can grab it.

"Why do you still try?" Michael's voice is laced with teasing, totally different from the tone you two had been talking in a few minutes ago. You let out a hearty laugh when you saw that Michael was practically hugging the broom and mop with one arm, squeezing them tightly against his body so they wouldn't fall off, while his free arm was carrying the bucket. "If you'd rather contort yourself to carry the bucket than let me handle a broom, honestly, you're crazy," you smiled, holding out your arms, hoping that Michael would make an exception for today.

"Call me crazy all you want," he says, ignoring your offer and starts walking through the corridors in search of the mess made by the investigators. You roll your eyes, amused by Michael's extreme insistence on being a gentleman, but you still follow him down the corridors to start your day shift.

"Fuck, couldn't those jerks collect their damn tapes?", Michael's voice rings out through the corridors until you reach Ballora's gallery, where you were. Hearing him get angry about this makes you laugh as you organize some boxes that the cops had emptied during the investigation. "Damn it, just put that shit in the garbage can, did they have to leave it on the floor?", Michael finally makes his way to the door of the room you were in.

"Michael, it's our job to manage the establishment, their only job is to investigate," you explain, without taking your eyes off the task you were doing, sorting out the items that were for the decoration box that ended up on the floor due to the policemen's carelessness. "But it's also their job to have the minimum of human dignity and throw garbage in the garbage can," Michael replies, still frustrated by the mess that had established itself in the Funtime auditorium: badly cleaned blood, torn yellow tapes on the floor, empty coffee cups everywhere and, to complete the humiliation, the staff toilet near the auditorium was clogged. Not that Michael needed it, he no longer has a functioning digestive system, but you did, and the asshole cops apparently didn't think about your digestive system while they clogged up the only fucking toilet in this establishment.

"Are you going to unclog the toilet? I can finish the boxes quickly and get it done," you asked, turning your body towards the door. You saw Michael standing in the doorway, holding two transparent garbage bags, both visibly full. "No, I'll do it," Michael replied in frustration, not at you, but at the mess. As much as he found the months he spent alone in the establishment frustrating, he had created a sense of home for the place. For him, seeing this messy and untidy place that he'd practically lived in for months would burst a vein, well, if he had veins with blood pumping through them.

"You're already cleaning the auditorium, which I believe has been left in a mess of blood and other filth," you plead. Michael had immediately offered to clean the auditorium, knowing that it would be uncomfortable for you to relive your memories there, even more so with the blood barely cleaned up by the investigators who collected the body and the various tapes written "Crime Scene".

"No, I'll clean the auditorium and the bathroom, no problem," Michael put the bags down, sighing at the effort he'd been putting in all afternoon. It was strange, to spend the whole afternoon mopping the floor and walking back and forth through the corridors to carry bags of garbage, and not break a sweat. He felt hot and breathless from the hard work, but he couldn't sweat anymore. "I don't want to kiss you later and have you smell like stale coffee and bleach," Michael explained, putting one hand on his waist and the other to loosen the hoodie he was wearing, shaking the fabric of the collar so that a breeze of air would cool his dead body.

"Oh yeah, then I'll have to smell that on you later," you laugh, not at all convinced by Michael's explanation. "I don't want your sister to be traumatized by the stink she'll smell when you get home," Michael says, his voice carrying a provocative tone, which makes you smile once again.

Michael looked extremely attractive right now, even with his face covered. The fabric of the hoodie really helped with the masterpiece in front of you, making no effort to hide the man's physique, apart from the fact that, with the movement he was making with the fabric, you could see a bit of bandage around his abdomen. You had discovered yet another feature of your sexual preference with Michael, finding the bandages he wore on his hands extremely attractive, even if you didn't understand why he wore them. A good amount of time had passed since the episode in the control room, and honestly, all you wanted now was to have the opportunity to feel Michael like that again.

"Doll, I'm going to throw this shit away and finish the auditorium tomorrow, I need to sort out the fucking toilet by today," Michael announces, picking up the bags again. You nod positively, "I like it when you call me that," you say with a fond smile on your face, happy to have Michael working with you, it really managed to distract you from the fact that the two of you were cleaning up the mess of the policemen - policemen who had come to investigate a murder.

"Brings back good memories, right?" Michael's voice echoed through the corridors, the malice evident in his tone, but he missed the opportunity to see your cheeks blush and your eyes close in shyness. But your face bore a smile, good memories indeed.

You took the opportunity that Michael had taken on the task of cleaning and unclogging the toilet to check the Scooping Room. Over the last few days, you had called the company a few times, explaining the situation of the robot forgotten in the establishment. The secretary had been polite to you, but she repeated that there was no record of the animatronic you were describing, an animatronic with several exposed wires and white plates forming a face that held a hat on top. You were confused by the situation, which she tried to explain could be some robot from another establishment or an export error by the construction company. The secretary explained that they were swamped with demands from the redesign of this facility and the lawyers who were handling the lawsuit over Noah's death, so she couldn't give you a definite date of when someone would pick up the lost animatronic.

So, walking quickly through the Funtime auditorium, avoiding looking at any traces of blood or, frankly, anywhere other than the small door of the Scooping Room, you decide to check on the animatronic, even to see if the police had removed it or done anything to the robot. When you enter the dark room, the animatronic is no longer next to the door, which makes you think almost immediately that it must have been removed, but as soon as your eyes get used to the darkness of the room, you can see the animatronic standing next to the large scooper in the middle of the room.

The animatronic was positioned in a creepy way, its arms, which were tubes and tubes of wires, were next to its metallic body, with its eyes turned towards the door, where you were standing. Next to him was the large scooper, which you assumed was for rebuilding or destroying the robots. "Well, it looks like they left you right here," you vocalized in a low voice, making sure Michael didn't hear any noise coming from the auditorium. The animatronic was submerged in the darkness of the place, the open door with the low lighting of the auditorium didn't do your vision any justice, you could only see the white plates that formed the robot's face and the long tubes that escaped from the metal body. Some dark spots were on the animatronic's white face, which made you think that the policemen must have moved the robot and let some coffee drip onto the plates. You were still amazed at the lack of care the investigators had shown with the establishment.

When you hear footsteps in the corridor and Michael's voice calling your name accompanied by some complaints about the smell in the bathroom, you immediately close the door to the scooping room and practically run through the auditorium, taking care not to bump into anything and cause a loud sound that would attract Michael's attention. "Y/n, let's close up and leave, I can't stand that stink any longer, tomorrow I'll bring a gas mask to keep cleaning the bathroom," Michael says, as he walks towards Ballora's gallery, but quickly notices that you are no longer there. "Y/n?" Michael says louder, wanting to hear an answer from you before he turns this establishment upside down, creating more chaos than the policemen left behind.

"I'm here," you reply as you run down the corridors to meet Michael. "Where did you go? Finished with the boxes?" the man asks as soon as he sees you running towards him, his hood hiding the frown of concern that has formed on his eyebrows. "I went to have a look in the auditorium, but I came running when I heard your call," you explain, placing your hand on the old walls of the corridor, trying to calm your breathing. Well, it wasn't entirely a lie, but you still felt bad about lying in front of Michael, especially about a subject he clearly felt strongly about.

"Hm, you could have told me," Michael replied, crossing his arms, "It's okay, next time, just let me know before you go to the auditorium, I don't like the thought of you alone in that place," the man explained, his husky voice filling your ears with a tone of distress.

"It's okay, Michael," you responded, smiling awkwardly due to the shortness of breath you were still feeling. "Let's go, you need a shower," your attempts to calm your breathing allowed you to inhale deeply of the reek that covered the man at that moment. Honestly, you were relieved that he had offered to clean the bathroom, you wouldn't put up with that smell for a second before vomiting.

"Wow, look what a gentleman gets for cleaning the bathroom for a girl," Michael imitates a sad voice, "Get used to the smell, doll, you'll have to cling to me on the bike on the way home," the man adds, letting out a small laugh while your face contorts into a disgusted expression. "Honestly, I'd rather walk," you admit to the man in front of you, who, upon hearing your statement, lets out another laugh, this time more sincere and louder than the first.

"I'll walk with you then," Michael starts heading towards the auditorium, moving past you, while your figure is still leaning against the same wall, trying to rest your body from the effort you've exerted today. "I'm going to lock the rooms, wait for me here so we can head down together," he said, stroking your hair gently as he came across your clumsy figure, still leaning against the wall. Your gaze was on the floor, giving Michael free access to run his fingers through the strands of your hair, which were shiny with sweat and a little messy. For Michael, it was another reminder that your body was alive, your body was warm, sweating and flushed red, unlike the cold, purple fingers of the dead man.

You nod positively at him, feeling the touch of careful fingers in your hair go away, accompanied by the sound of Michael's footsteps once again echoing through the corridors. The wall was strangely comfortable for you, so as Michael had asked, you didn't move, letting your whole body lean against the wall as you waited for Michael to return and leave.

The man does his task quickly, locking all the rooms that had been opened in the investigation and checking if the ones that remained locked were properly closed. Arriving at the auditorium, Michael moves in hurried steps towards the door that was so familiar from his nightmares. Now he and Noah shared the same place of death. No matter how much his steps faltered or how much his dead heart screamed at him to get away from that door, he always checked to see if it was closed. It seemed that his soul recognized the place, as all the organs that were no longer active in his lifeless body twitched and writhed in pain. Michael unconsciously raised his hand to protect his abdomen, an unnecessary and useless action for his current situation. His stomach had already been ripped open, all his organs had already been expelled onto the floor, Michael's survival instinct had nothing left to protect.

Even though his hand was shaking, he reached out for the handle, which, to make matters worse for Michael, was open. At that moment, the fear ceased, the feeling of rage and revenge taking over Michael's entire body, already expecting to find Ennard behind that door. He couldn't risk leaving that door open, not with you here, not with your figure standing a few meters away from this room. The door swung open abruptly and violently, the dust that guarded the entrance flying everywhere given the room's lack of use.

There was no one there. Or rather, there was no animatronic. The room was dark, but Michael could draw this room with his eyes closed, he didn't need light, the memory that terrified him every night would help him navigate the room. The man wasn't stupid, he knew and had experience with the way animatronics hid, so he made a point of checking every corner or square meter of the small space. Michael felt his soul almost jump out of his body once again as he stood inside the Scooper Room, recognizing that it was here that he had lost his life, it was in this small space that Michael didn't see the light, Michael didn't hear, see or feel anything for the first time in his life. At least, he couldn't feel anything after he felt the large piece of metal puncture his stomach. He couldn't hear anything after his ear almost bled from his own screams. Ennard was the last vision he had.

Ennard wasn't here. Michael felt selfish for being relieved, at least, he didn't want to imagine how he would deal with knowing that Ennard was in the establishment at the same time as you were. However, that meant it was somewhere else, loose on the streets of this city in search of a corpse to dress, just as he had done with Michael.

The man quickly closes the door, locking it before going to meet you.

[ellaenchanting]

Hypnovember 2023 Day 2: Brain Drain

I have committed Our Flag Means Death fanfiction! I am so sorry. Stede/Ed, Ed/Izzy, somehow happy poly and happy metamours making a lovely vee. Takes place in some AU season 2 where the last arc of the season never happened. Izzy is living his best happy masochist life.

Author knows fuck all about ships.

Izzy had gotten much more comfortable spending time with his shipmates since the Calypso's birthday incident.

There was nothing like a round of torture to bring a crew together, he thought.

Tonight the whole group had gathered in the galley under the ship, laughing and chatting long past when they usually went into their quarters for the evening. The sea had been calm that day and the mood was social. Everyone seemed quite relaxed.

Only two members were missing.

Oluwande looked up from his cuddle pile with Jim and Archie. He seemed to have read Izzy's mind. "Hey," he called out to the gathered group, "Has anyone seen the captains this evening?"

"No!" a few people responded.

"Thank God," snarked Black Pete. "Blackbeard...well Ed has been freaking me out. Yelled at me earlier about trimming the sails and you KNOW I keep them the trimmest, babe," he said to his partner Lucius.

"Yeah, he snarled at me when I told him 'hello' earlier," said Archie. "Like this!" She contorted her face into a frankly over-the-top grimace. "Made me nearly jump out of my skin. I may have heard him yell at some seagulls too? Or dolphins?"

Roach looked worried. "Neither captain has come down for dinner, yet," he said.

"Perhaps they are...occupied in the captain's quarters," speculated Izzy.

"Oh? Feeling left out, are you?" joked Frenchie, the little shit. Izzy tactfully ignored him.

Roach replied, still concerned. "Captain Stede will usually come down and request provisions in advance if they're having a long night alone," said Roach. "Thinks he's being sneaky, says they need extra energy 'for planning raids.'"

"My room is below theirs. Trust me, they've not been buggering today," piped up Wee John. "Unless they've learned to be much more quiet about it."

"Maybe they've gotten into a spat and someone's gotten pushed off the ship," spat Lucius. "That'll happen with him, you know."

"OK, that's enough," said Izzy, trying to regain control over the situation as everyone began to talk at once. "You're like gossipy fishwives, all of you. I'll go check on the captains. Make sure Bonnet's not running the ship into a cliff or something."

Izzy climbed up the stairs and started to look around the ship. Ed and Stede weren't in the captain's quarters (being quiet for once). There was no sign of them on the deck. He even craned his neck up to the bird's nest and checked. No captains there.

He finally spotted them at the back of the ship- on a little bit of the stern mostly hidden from view. They were both sitting facing out at the ocean. From a distance, Izzy could see Stede's arm was bent around Ed's shoulder, his hand occasionally reaching up to rock Ed's drooped head into slow, almost imperceptible little circles. Aside from the rocking, Ed's body was remarkably still. It was a huge change from the tense, coiled menace that Ed's frame had carried earlier in the day. Now, he looked almost like a puppet with his strings cut, only responding to Stede's guidance. His arms rested gently besides his legs, lax and pliant.

Izzy could hear Bonnett speaking in a low, soothing voice near Ed's ear but he was too far to make out any words.

Ed had mentioned mesmerism to Izzy before. It was one of the many upperclass daliances that Bonnet had introduced him to- one of those many trifling hobbies that Izzy would never begin to understand the appeal of. Izzy even knew that Bonnet had used his skills on Ed previously. His captain confided that Bonnett's fancy mesmerism routine had helped him find quiet during his not-infrequent emotional storms, that it evened out his seemingly uncontrollable highs and lows. In Izzy's mind, he had pictured the whole thing looking quite comical- Bonnett with wiggly fingers staring daggers into Ed's eyes (maybe with rays), Edward swooning and fainting away in response like a lady whose corset was too tight.

This was quieter than what he had pictured. Gentle. Intimate, even. As he looked over at the scene, he had the sudden feeling that perhaps he shouldn't intrude.

He began to walk away when Stede turned his head and look directly at him. Izzy froze for a moment, unsure what to do. Stede quietly waved him over to where the couple was sitting.

As Izzy approached, he began to get a closer look at Ed's face. His eyes were closed and his face relaxed. His chest slowly rose and fell with each breath. As he come closer, he noticed Ed's eyes were making little flickers underneath his eyelids like he was dreaming.

Izzy wondered what dreams were happening below those lids.

Ed's brows furrowed a bit as Izzy came closer, picking up the noise.

Stede stroked a reassuring hand through his hair. He spoke in his ear, this time loud enough so Izzy could hear: "Shhhhhhh sweetness. It's OK. Relax. You're not in charge right now, remember? Just rest."

Ed's expression immediately cleared. He let held breath with a sigh.

"Izzy's here," Stede continued. "He and I are going to have a chat for a bit. But you don't have to pay attention to that right now, ok? Just drift. Why don't you see how deep you can count yourself down for me while we talk? I'll be right here. I'll touch your leg when it's time for you to listen to me again, ok?"

Ed gave a slight, dreamy nod. His lips barely moved as he began to count silently.

Seemingly satisfied, Stede gestured for Izzy to sit and moved over closer to him.

Izzy sat down, still staring at Ed's lax face. Somehow that by itself was just fascinating. Ed seemed so vulnerable and bare right now. Izzy wasn't sure if he should feel honored or spooked.

"He had a bad day," Stede said gently, nodding over to their entranced boyfriend. "You know how he gets. He needed out of his head for a bit."

Izzy DID understand how Ed got- probably more than his dandyish captain ever would. Hopefully more that Stede ever would, he corrected himself. Ed had certainly told his other boyfriend at least a bit about the hurricane that had been his and Izzy's relationship in the past. When times were bad, they had only known how to take their energy out on each other. They bit and snarled and scratched at one another just to drown out all the noise inside. Izzy had always assumed Ed had NEEDED all of that- needed to hurt and make Izzy suffer the same way that Izzy needed to hurt and suffer for him. That's how they worked. That's who they were together.

Since arriving on the Revenge, though, Izzy had seen more and more of the hidden soft side of Blackbeard. The side that enjoyed fancy clothes and fine foods. The side that kissed Stede's cheek sweetly when he didn't think anyone else was looking. The side that, even now, sat loose and drifting and unguarded while his two boyfriends stayed by him and had a chat.

"Can he hear us?" Izzy asked Stede, curiously.

Stede smiled. "He can hear us, he's just..focused elsewhere right now. Mesmerism's not a magic spell, it's more like- a nice version of where Ed's brain goes when he's navigating. Or how he is when he's trying to sniff out a storm."

Izzy was familiar with his captain's tendency to tune everything out while trying to read the sea. He pictured the absolute, unshakeable concentration of his focused gaze. "Only with nice, clear skies?"

Stede nodded. "Only with nice clear skies." He looked fondly at Ed's dreaming face. "No rain. Nothing to worry about right now." He had dropped into a lighter, dreamy tone- and for a moment, Izzy wasn't sure if he was still speaking to Ed or Izzy or even somehow mesmerizing himself.

Izzy had seen many things in his travels. He once heard a street charlatan talk about mesmerism- saying mesmerism somehow balanced out a person's magnetic forces (y'know- whatever magnetic forces were). He wasn't one for all of Stede's little tricks but- he did understand about needing balance.

Izzy had initially misunderstood Ed's relationship to Stede. He worried that the gentleman pirate would make Ed weak. That he would seduce him away. That he would try to turn the great Blackbeard into one of Stede's fancy little gentleman friends. Izzy had been terrified there would be nothing left of the Ed that he loved after Stede was through.

But Ed was still Izzy's Ed, even now. He could still fight and outwit and outmaneuver anyone else on the sea. He would still protect his crew with all the fierceness of his notorious reputation. He and Izzy could still lose themselves in each other- in their old married couple bickering, in their fighting and fucking, in their indulgences of Ed's sadism and Izzy's corresponding masochism. It just- felt more controlled now. Izzy no longer wondered if Ed actually hated him or if he was just looking for someone convenient to break. He no longer worried that Blackbeard would maim him so badly that he couldn't look after the crew. Even when Ed hurt him now- and he WOULD still hurt him, Stede didn't magic that part away- Izzy was always rewarded with a kiss and some praise afterwards. "That's so good, Izzy. You did so well for me," he would say. Edward seemed so much stronger in these moments now- able to control his own fierceness and use it as a weapon- but also to hold Izzy as he fell apart for him.

Izzy looked over at Ed's quiet countenance- so different than before. It was otherworldy seeing him this serene and distant. He had a sudden desire to protect this version of Ed- Stede's gentle Ed. To keep him safe. A mad, possessive impulse made it to Izzy's mouth before he could stop it.

"Can I touch him?" he asked. "Like this?"

Stede looked surprised. "By touch, do you mean....?"

"His face, Bonnet" Izzy replied, snarkily. "Or his hand or something. His hair. Not going to wank him off on the deck, now am I?"

Stede bit back a laugh. He leaned over to gently touch Ed's leg.

Ed reacted with an almost imperceptible startle before gently settling- serene like the moon going back behind a cloud.

"Shhh- that's OK, love, you can stay relaxed. Good," Stede soothed. "Izzy was wondering if he could touch you while you're in trance. Would that be OK?"

Ed took a moment to respond, as though the words were reaching him from a great distance. Then he nodded his assent.

Stede smiled back at Izzy, reassuringly. Izzy took a breath- then reached over to slowly stroke Ed's hair.

His fearsome Blackbeard smiled in return to the gesture- giving a happy little murmur. He slightly leaned his head in. Just like an affectionate kitten, Izzy thought.

"Good," soothed Bonnet at Ed. "I bet that feels nice."

Izzy grinned too, feeling oddly proud to be trusted with this quiet moment. He and Ed had never been conventional. Maybe it was OK that Ed and Stede weren't either. Maybe it was ok that their relationships were so different- that they saw such different aspects of the same person.

Maybe it was all ok.

Maybe it all balanced.

They sat quietly for a long moment on the deck, letting the peace of the atmosphere soothe them.

Gradually Stede stirred. "Izzy- I forgot to ask: Did the men send you? Were they looking for us?"

"There's no emergency, they were just curious where you were," replied Izzy.

Stede nodded. "We should probably get back, then. Or at least get off deck. Love," he said, moving his voice back into that hypnotic tone. He touched Ed's leg to refocus him. "Are you ready to come up out of trance for me?"

Ed took a deep breath and nodded.

"Good, I'll count to 5 then. It's just to guide you- I know you know how to come up at your own pace. Bring back any of this peace and calm that you want with you, ok?"

Stede started counting- his voice slowly gaining energy as he reminded Ed to connect back with his body and helped him reorient to the ship. It all didn't seem particularly magical to Izzy- but then again he rarely tried to understand Bonnet's ways anyway. Ed finally blinked his eyes open when Stede reached 5.

He blinked a few more times, adjusting. Then, his gaze lost it's bleariness as he looked adoringly up at Stede.

"Hi, there," said Stede, smiling gently. "Back with us, love?"

"Mmmmph mostly," said Ed, scritching his beard and stretching to rouse himself. He looked over at Izzy as though reminding himself he was there and smiled. "Heya, Izz!" Ed leaned up to kiss him.

Izzy grinned into their kiss. "Heya, Captain. Didn't want to interrupt your little daydream session. Crew was just looking for you."

"Ah, we missed dinner!" exclaimed Stede. "I should have asked Roach for..."

"Provisions for planning raids, I heard," smirked Izzy. "Yes, we're all very snowed by your clever euphemisms."

"Fuck provisions, I could eat a horse," said Ed. He practically bounced up and put an arm around both of his boyfriends. "C'mon, let's get some grub!"

Helpless to his whims as always, both of his partners joyfully followed him to dinner.

Fanfic is new to me so would love some thoughts! Also this is unbeta'd so will love you forever if you would point out spelling/grammar mistakes or if there's unclear writing. I'm considering posting this to AO3 but- don't want to embarrass myself in front of the REAL fanfic writers, you know? Feedback welcomed!

Tagging @mentat101posts and @thekinkycocktailclub .If you want to be tagged in these, just lmk!

Tagging @darthkyra @linnybeenaughty @pearlqueensposts @thiskenisftm @deeperforme because they wanted OFMD hypnokink and I blame/thank you for the inspiration to actually get this down!

[raphaelesbian]

"Sacando está análisis pequeño y tonto sobre el fanfic Puppet Tightly Strung (mi fanfic favorito) / Noose Loosely Wound Sobre la metáfora de que si Rafael es una marioneta, que sería K"Lo escribí con ayuda de la IA, una de esas personitas que no sabe expresarse con

Rafael es como una marioneta con hilos visibles que lo hacen bailar a su antojo. Es consciente de los hilos que lo controlan, pero no puede escapar de ellos.

Karai es como un muñeco de cuerda que cree poder moverse por sí misma, pero sin darse cuenta de que le han dado cuerda. Aunque piensa tener el control sobre sus acciones y pensamientos, en realidad está siendo controlada de manera sutil por el Gusano Cerebral. La cuerda en su espalda no es visible para ella, pero funciona igual, estando siempre presente y manipulando sus movimientos y decisiones.

Ambos son muñecos distintos que se manejan y se cuidan de forma diferente, pero al final del día, ambos fueron muñecos controlados por el mismo titiritero/juguetero.

No sé si debía sacar esta comparación de mi cabeza, pero originalmente iba a hacer un fanart con esta idea. Sin embargo, no sé hacer dibujos digitales y no soy tan buena dibujando. Pero amo este fanfic, así que de alguna manera tenía que espresar esta idea

Me preguntaba si tu tenías alguna comparación para karai ?

(Translation below the cut. I literally just used google translate so please correct me if it's wrong!)

Sorry for taking so long to reply! This was a very good question and I had to think on it. First of all, thank you so much!! I'm so happy to hear that PTS is your favorite fic, that genuinely means a lot <3 <3 I would LOVE to see any art that you make, don't sell yourself short!!! But I also love receiving analyses like this <3

I think you have a very apt analogy! I had never thought of Karai as being a wind-up doll, but it's a very good way to look at it, and the difference between the two of them. Raph's brain worm experience was very much the worms as an external force of control, vs. Karai's being internal and invisible to herself. I'm not sure I can come up with a better comparison than the one you made, to be quite honest!

Since you were sweet enough to send this really cool breakdown to me, I can offer up some more symbolism for you though! Noose Loosely Wound, the title is meant to be the inverse in a way of Puppet Tightly Strung. Where, in PTS, Raph had no choice in either his actions or the fact he was bound in the first place, in NLW it is entirely up to him. The noose is slack—if he backs up, or stays still, he'll be fine. But if he continues forward, on the path he's chosen with Karai, it tightens.

And, in this situation, Karai is kind of... not so much holding the rope, but drawing him forward. I started a drawing based on that whole concept, though it didn't get far (I couldn't get the posing down XD)

Under this kind of metaphor though, it's important to recognize that the two of them are very much tied together. As Raph's noose tightens, so does Karai's, and yet they both continue to draw the each other deeper into danger. It's a toxic, codependent relationship!

Idk if any of that was interesting 😅 But thank you again for the message!!! I really appreciated it, and I hope you continue to enjoy the fic <3 <3

"Pulling out this silly little analysis on the fanfic Puppet Tightly Strung (my favorite fanfic) / Noose Loosely Wound About the metaphor that if Rafael is a puppet, what would be K" I wrote it with the help of the AI, one of those little people who does not know how to express himself

Rafael is like a puppet with visible strings that make him dance as he pleases. He is aware of the threads that control him, but he cannot escape them.

Karai is like a wind-up doll who thinks she can move on her own, but without realizing that she has been wound up. Although she thinks she has control over her actions and thoughts, she is actually being subtly controlled by the Brain Worm. The rope on her back is not visible to her, but it works the same, always being present and manipulating her movements and decisions.

They are both different dolls that are handled and cared for differently, but at the end of the day, they were both dolls controlled by the same puppeteer/toymaker.

I don't know if I should get this comparison out of my head, but I was originally going to make fanart with this idea. However, I don't know how to do digital drawings and I'm not that good at drawing. But I love this fanfic, so I had to express this idea somehow

I was wondering if you had any comparisons for karai?