#the betrayal of trust feels so real though it had to be inevitable. we just didnt want to stop liking her

[hezekiahwakely]

Started thinking about the Distortion's arc again. Dozens dead hundreds trapped in endless spiralling hallways for the rest of eternity.

[bastardrobocop]

not being funny, not being melodramatic i hope, but i feel like the last year has broken me in a lot of ways. 2023 i mean. i watched a long term relationship disintegrate in my hands until the ultimate betrayal of my trust and safety. i was so stressed and so fucked up all the time.

and now like, i can feel im withdrawing from my friends, im engaging in unhealthy behaviors i will not specify here, despite it all im more lonely than ive ever been, my hobbies are starting to feel like dust in my mouth, and while i'm not actively suicidal, the thought isnt far from my mind in that nasty intrusive thought sort of way.

there are nice things. i have the place to myself. the bed to myself. its quiet. but i feel like ive exhausted the amount of patience people have with me talking about what ive gone through. and as is the nature of things i dont feel as though ive built character or come through hardened. i feel mad. hurt. i want to hurt xer back somehow. take something back because something was taken from me. i feel like i have no recourse. god knows if xe'll hurt someone like xe hurt me again. but thats not even my primary motivation. i just hate feeling like theres nothing. no justice. no satisfaction. nothing that makes being raped a more tolerable experience, which is a silly thing to say. but you understand, right? like, sure i could post somewhere highly visible "In December of 2023 well known SCP Wiki author UraniumEmpire sexually assaulted me" but like what would that accomplish? it sure would put me under a microscope. its a surreal sentence too. hard to explain why. maybe its ultraminor celebrity combined with knowledge that inevitably it can just be denied and nobody will listen.

you know before now i never really noticed how much people fetishize sexual assault? "CNC" and the like. i dont care for it. i dont think they know. its frustrating as an adult online trying to navigate adult spaces. i know its an odd topic, but im fully stream of consciousness right now. i'll see something and it hits me in the gut and so i block the user or close the thing or leave the discord call. yet another addition to the list of things that make my tastes so exacting.

i feel like i should come to some overall point but the only thing coming to mind right now is just 'i hate this'. and i do. i hate this so much. i'm crying a lot more. at stupid things. weird things. memories. dreams. this post. the funny thing is that despite it all, despite the content, despite everything, i hope people read it. i like feeling like i exist. i like feeling real to other people. reminding folks that im not just a joke machine. i have an internal world. i have had a life that's lead me here and despite advantages it has not been good.

did i ever talk about how my high school graduation went? odd digression, bear with me. i feel like its emblematic of how things typically go for me. it's the day i graduate high school. i come downstairs to find my mother on skype with my kansas family. my grandfather is dying. they put him on skype. i watch him die over skype. after sitting alone for some time, i tell my parents i do not want to go through with high school graduation. i am forced to regardless. it is the most miserable day of my life. nobody listens to what i need in the moment. i go through with it, and then we are all shepherded to some kind of entertainment center. for reasons i cannot fathom, we are not allowed to leave for a couple hours. enforced fun time. they bring a stage hypnotist. i sit in silence and watch his antics. i get up and ask one of the people supervising us if i can leave now. they finally say yes. my mother takes me home. she asks if i have a nice time. i say of course i didnt. we drive home in silence.

i have have very rarely felt understood. very rarely felt like i was built to exist in the world. i feel as though i have an expiration date beyond the obvious one. i have grown older and watched people i know operate normally in the world and wondered how they do it. it never clicked for me. autism, transness, otherings. experts looked at me, told me i needed accommodations. never really got them, or they didnt help.

this is getting too long. i asked myself partway through if this was a suicide note but concluded that it wasn't. this is primarily because im scared if i die, they'll separate my cats. adopt them to different homes. they're best friends, they should not be kept apart. i love my cats, even when they're breaking shit and tearing open trash bags.

final paragraph. this whole post thing is probably going to sound embarrassing to me when i have hindsight on it. oh well. i am going to hit the post button now.

[didnt-hear-idsb-live-again]

I don't wanna publish the long ask so I'm gonna put it under the cut if people wanna read / I do later, but that was so helpful to hear, anon.

(also LOL @ "why does it always come to nudes" jfkhdksjk). I really relate to what you said about kind of taking things really seriously and tracing them back to that incident, because that's exactly what's happening with me/us right now. It's also helpful to hear that it WAS helpful for you to bring it up under that context years later. And you saying that you need to bring something actionable for him to do to the table before you do it is so smart - I think that solves a lot of what I was wondering about like, it's going to feel like I'm just bitching at him out of nowhere if I also have a real tangible action I want out of it. seriously so so SO helpful I appreciate the whole thing a lot.

Ahh that story was captivating as hell!! I relate in a lot of ways and maybe hearing my situation could help a little? I met my current partner of almost 5 years in a very tumultuous time of my life. I was involved in a fucking homeland security investigation over some nudes (why are nudes always involved 💀) that had been passed around on some gross websites at my college but they were taken when I was 17 which made the whole thing child porn and therefore a big big deal. That had basically wrapped up by the time we met after I graduated, but he knew about it. About a year or so into our relationship he gave me a very heartfelt and agonizing apology because he had been watching tv on my laptop while I was at work and had been curious if I had saved any of the (few) nudes he had sent me. In his curiosity he had found the folder of my literal homeland security evidence and had PANICKED bc child porn and betraying me and DELETED THEM. I was in love and still very much not healed from the trauma surrounding the whole thing and loved feeling like I had the moral high ground and so I forgave him too fast and comforted him and promptly erased the incident from my memory. 3 years of a very very solid relationship later, my brain would not leave me alone with the intrusive thoughts about how he would inevitably betray me and how he would never understand my pain and suffering as a woman. He is practically perfect, truly, including in how he responds to feedback and has been helping me through some very very dark ptsd places like this guy has been through hell and back with me. But I’d spent 3 years keeping all of those feelings/fears in (bc I literally forgot about what happened bc of how triggering it actually was). Eventually I snapped bc our life was good but felt like spark was missing (thank u pandemic!) and he would stumble into a male privilege slip up occasionally (which is normal and he would truly dig in and try to understand and fix it whenever thsi came up). But those stumbles were bringing up the HUGE feelings of betrayal for me. The way we navigated it, which isn’t necessarily a recommendation lol, was that we traced the huge reactions I was having back to that incident at the beginning of our relationship, he heard me from a retrospective view when I expressed how deeply that had wounded me, he genuinely apologized, and I pretty much handed him an ultimatum that he needed to go to therapy and do some required readings on apologies and communication (he has some big stuff with people pleasing so it was sometimes hard to know when things were sincere or just an effort to keep me “happy”). Anyways!! Long story short, he went all in and committed to doing those things and almost a year later, we are stronger than ever and I trust him 1000%. We even ended up doing long distance recently for a work opportunity he had come up out of state and we were both terrified but it is going really well! I guess my real point is that those feelings are valid and worthy of being looked at again even though you’ve “been over it” a million times already. Bc the way you feel about everything that happened back then, now, is really important to acknowledge and create space for. It sounds like you’ve both grown and changed a lot! And the people you are now deserve the chance to pay your respects to the people you once were, and you deserve to be heard in your pain. What helped me was to be able to go into conversations with my partner with a solid list of things that I knew would help me to feel better/if he didn’t think doing them was worth it then I would know exactly how much he cared and be able to dip (like an article or a worksheet he could literally read or do, basically just actionable things). Of course, that was after the initial hyper-emotional conversation which was a lot of crying and fury. It ended up being absolutely worth it, and I think we both feel safer/better for it. On his end, I think he doesn’t carry around as much guilt. I know it’s not exactly the same situation, but anyways that’s my relationship story! Hugs 💙

[cdroloisms]

uhhhh ,, , hi ??

i feel bad bc i havent been here in. LITERALLY forever lmao - hope you guys r all doing good!! ive been working on some stuff but it’s been pretty slow going, and school is also A Thing, so i definitely havent been writing as much as i’d like. 

as an apology, have this? really self-indulgent feel-good syndicate + c!dream centric oneshot bc i felt like writing this so u know. why not. 

tws: implied torture, abuse, self-harm, disordered eating, starvation mentions, prison arc themes - overall everything’s just blink-and-you’ll-miss-it mentions, not too much angst here for once! c!sam and c!quackity critical, sorry guys but we r still in the prison arc and they still r on their “fuck human rights” arcs. 

Dream leaves.

 It’s a surprise - or maybe it isn’t one, Niki isn’t quite sure. She’d never grown to quite trust the man, she knows, and she can’t really tell if the bitter twist of emotion that swells up her chest when Phil comes to her city with the news is betrayal or resignation - what can she say. She’s gotten more than her fair share of broken promises. They don’t exactly faze her anymore. 

 None of them seem all that surprised, save Techno, who entirely fails to hide the worry that flickers over his face when he calls the Syndicate meeting to officially inform them of what’s going on. She shares quick, careful glances with the other members when his back is turned - despite how many times he’s been burned, Techno still seems so adamant at holding onto every thread, trusting all too easily those who would use and leave him behind without a second glance. He can handle himself, she knows. Still, that’s not going to stop her from slapping Dream upside the head for being yet another worthless person to betray her friend’s forgiving nature. 

 Nothing much changes in the next few weeks. Niki has to admit, it’s strange without Dream around - he’d not been an ally, much less a friend before dipping completely, but he had been some sort of constant - and Niki is self aware enough to know that she misses him, a little, the same sort of way you might miss an old routine once it’s gone, if only for the familiarity. She still visits Techno and Phil with various baked goods, knowing that Phil would have his hands full just keeping Techno from running himself ragged - makes sure to check on Ranboo, whose nerves have inevitably returned with Dream’s disappearance. To be honest, she doesn’t worry as much as he does - ally or not, she’s spent enough time with the Dream that had left prison to expect that he won’t exactly be able to get himself very far should he come for the four of them, and doesn’t particularly care about he might pull with the rest of the server - if things get bad, she’s sure Phil and Techno will have it handled. She asks Phil, once, what happened, and he shrugs. 

 “I don’t know, mate,” he heaves a chest to the side, pulling out a stack of stone blocks that Niki gladly holds for him. “One day we woke up and he was just- gone. Everything. Was like he wasn’t ever there at all.” 

 Niki hums. “Why’d you think he’d do something like that?” 

 “If I could understand half of why Dream does what he does, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, would we?” He smiles at her from behind a crate. “Shall we bring these things upstairs and start on dinner?” 

 Niki laughs, knowing that the conversation about Dream is over. “Of course, Phil.” 

Dinner is a welcome distraction; all of them have gotten better at cooking in recent months, between her baking and the veritable library of recipes Phil knows that she’s never even heard of, but Phil is still the only one she really trusts to hold his own behind the stove - Ranboo is still a little too nervous around water, and fire, and much of everything, and though Techno can be a perfectly capable cook, he’s been distracted as of late. She has a strong feeling that left to his own devices, he’d just grab a stack of steak and disappear for another few weeks, searching the server for information. 

 Honestly, she’s a little thrown off by his behavior - he’d not done anything like this with Tommy, if she remembers right, and had hardly seemed affected by Wilbur’s betrayal on the Sixteenth at all (then again, she was a little too lost in her own head to notice if he was.) She tosses her head over to ask Phil, who’s leaning over a few carrots he’s slicing to throw into the stew he’s making, and the man pauses, frowns. 

 “From what I know,” he starts, words slow, careful, “they’d spent three months in there together, and the conditions weren’t exactly- stellar. According to what Techno said, I’d assumed they had come to some sort of understanding.” He goes back to the carrots, expression dipping into shadow and out of sight. “Guess I was wrong.” 

 Niki hums. She can see it, sort of - spending months together with someone, no matter how insufferable, probably would end with some degree of attachment - she thinks back to plotting through sleepless nights with Jack, anger and grief leaving them simmering, crabs in the same pot of boiling water, remembers looking into his dead-eyed gaze and seeing her own stare back - and feels a brief pang of guilt. Besides, Techno is Techno. She’d never met someone so willing to forgive, understand, reach out despite everything that’s happened - for Dream to take advantage of that feels almost too obvious. Of course he would - what were they all thinking?

 “He’s Dream,” she says as if that explains everything, flipping open the oven door and feeling a wave of heat blast her face. Phil hums lowly, understanding. “I hope Techno will be alright.” 

 “He’s tough,” Phil cracks a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “And he has us on his side. He’ll get through.” 

 Niki opens her mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by the front door slamming open. Outside their quaint little cottage, the wind howls - it sounds like the beginning of a blizzard out there, flurries painting the world in a thick blanket of white. In the door, Techno strides into the entrance with loud, decisive movements, shutting the door loud enough to make the walls shake. Inadvertently, Niki finds her eyes drawn to the small pile of snow that he’s tracked into the house - Techno’s usually so careful to kick it all off on the porch, never liked it much when there was a pile of melting ice and snow dampening the floorboards and soaking into his shoes. He huffs harshly, stripping off a snow-dusted scarf from his face - a long, multicolored abomination that had been the product of her attempting to teach Ranboo how to knit. Phil has reached his side, hands splayed over his upper arms, eyes soft in the corners from concern. 

 “Techno, mate-” his tone is chiding but his movements gentle as he brushes snow off of Techno’s signature cloak, “you’ve gotten snow everywhere. What were you doing, dueling a blizzard?” 

 Techno shakes his head, not meeting Phil’s banter as usual, fur sticking up from the snow melted into it. His voice is gruff and holds little humor - unconsciously, Niki feels her shoulders tense. 

 “Phil, call a Syndicate meeting.”

 ---

 Phil, per usual, is unrelenting, so it’s not until a quick dinner and some hurried messages to their final member later that the Syndicate is gathered in their meeting room, Techno pacing the length of the room as they wait in their respective seats. He looks less frazzled than he did when he first entered the house, in part due to Phil’s sitting him down to eat and picking through his fur to smooth it out of its windblown spikes and tangles - Techno had grumbled at him to stop preening him, but looked a lot more relaxed by the time they were all finished with their food. Still, his ear flicks periodically, twitching toward ssome sound that Niki can’t hear, movements tighter and jerkier than she is used to. He’d always been a little flightier after the prison, but not quite like this - everything here feels like that but dialed up to eleven. Inexplicably, it reminds her of Dream. 

 “Techno?” Phil gestures towards his seat, prompting, and he settles into it with an obliging huff. 

 “Y’know, Phil, the code names are kinda pointless if we never use ‘em,” he says, words carrying no real heat - he looks back at the rest of them, lips thinning into a line. “Anyway. I called this meeting because I found a couple leads on Dream.” 

 “O-oh,” Ranboo stutters, tail lashing behind him. 

 “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to, mate,” Phil reminds him gently, a sentiment that Niki affirms with a determined nod. 

 “There’ve been some reports- rumors, really,” Techno says, calling their attention again, and they all turn towards him, “of increased activity around the prison again. The Warden spending more time on its grounds, movement seen around the walls and around the portal- so I decided to go check it out for myself.” 

 Niki frowns, and watches as Phil does the same beside her - Techno had seemed to avoid the prison if he could help it, save for when he went on the initial mission to break Dream out. It was no secret to them that he didn’t exactly like the place. 

 “We could’ve helped if you asked,” Phil reminds him, and Techno shakes his head. 

 “I know, Phil. It’s just- that place is bad news. I’d rather keep you guys away from there if I can-” his hand goes to his head with a poorly hidden wince. “Sorry, Chat’s a little- worked up, at the minute.” 

 “Sorry, we’ll stop interrupting you,” Niki says, cutting off Phil before he says anything else. “So you went to the prison?” 

 Techno takes a second to gather his thoughts, mumbling quietly in the way that usually means he’s telling off Chat. “Right- I decided to stake out the portal. The rumors were right- Sam has been hanging around there, entered and left the prison four times yesterday. And today-” he hesitates, expression visibly darkening. “This morning, about an hour after the Warden arrived, Quackity came to the prison and went through the portal. He left the grounds about six hours later.” 

 “Quackity?” Niki frowns, eyes flicking over to how Phil has stilled in his seat. “What is Quackity doing at the prison?” 

 Phil ignores her question, reaching towards Techno, something indiscernible in his gaze. “Mate…”

 “He smelled of blood when he left,” Techno says, words sharp, and Niki feels her heart skip a beat. “Warden left about half an hour after, and I came back here.” 

 Ranboo clears his throat, sounding tentative. “Okay,” he drums his hand on the table when they turn towards him, eyebrows drawn, “but what, exactly, does this have to do with, uh, Dream?” 

 Techno and Phil trade glances, one of their bouts of unspoken conversation that Niki’s grown extremely used to. They seem strangely hesitant, she notes internally, Phil looking towards Techno with a question written clearly in the planes of his face. Techno sighs, a long puff of air through his lips as he closes his eyes and turns his face towards the table. 

 “You know how Dream was- injured,” he starts slowly, looking back up at them. Niki shifts uncomfortably - of course she noticed, it was impossible not to - if not the bandages that peeked under his sleeves and the cuffs of his pants, then how skinny he’d been, all skin and bones curled up uncomfortably in a pile at the corner of Techno’s couch. She’d not know the extent, by any means, and had always assumed that they’d been self-inflicted - she’d been in a bad enough place on her own before to know how your head can make you want to hurt, sometimes, how eating food can feel like choking on sawdust and the world could feel so much smaller when focused into delicate pricks of pain. Phil’s eyes are trained on Techno - on his face, then on the pinkish raised skin of a still-healing scar along his forearm, and she feels understanding settle like a rock in her gut. 

 “The Warden had apparently been lettin’ Quackity into the cell to torture Dream for the revive book,” Techno trails off, eyes narrowed and seemingly fixed on a random point of the opposite wall. “By the time I go there, it’d been goin’ on for months.”

 “But wait,” Ranboo’s tail moves even more erratically behind him, “You mean you think he’s back- there? How?” 

 “He has to be back in the prison,” Techno points out. “I can’t imagine anyone besides him that the two of them are goin’ to just start torturin’- Sam had been iffy about the whole thing when Quackity started in on me. It has to be Dream in there again.” 

 “But how did he get in there, then?” Ranboo asks, visibly confused. “Last time it took the entire server to lock him up!”

 “There were no signs of a struggle,” Niki points out, matter of fact. “I believe you, Techno, but I don’t really know how they managed to drag him back so easily. I can’t imagine he was jumping at the chance to go back in there.” 

 Techno shakes his head with an uneasy sigh. 

 “I have a feelin’ of what might’ve happened,” he says quietly. “And I really hope that I’m wrong and he’s less of an idiot than I think he is.” 

 ---

 They set out to investigate - and maybe attack - the next day, Techno and Phil taking on the bulk of preparations as Ranboo stays behind. He’d been understandably uneasy about the whole mission, so they’d left him back by the Syndicate room to set off their pearls in case anything went wrong. (“By the end of the day,” Techno had said, giving Phil a look with the corner of his lip quirked upwards, “don’t be like Phil here and think I meant the end of the month, alright?”) They’d all be supplied with armor and weapons, thanks to Phil, but she’d been handed the bulk of their potions, arranged neatly in her inventory by type in case they’d be needed. She lingers in the back of the room as Phil and Techno chat amiably over the sound of making last minute repairs on their armor, listens to Techno’s ceaseless reminders for Phil to be careful, watches as they make sure that their stasis chambers are properly prepared should they need them.

 (She watches as Phil nudges Techno’s shoulder when he lingers behind a certain chair, empty as long as she’s been part of the Syndicate, the fountain behind it bubbling quietly without a pearl inside. Techno sighs, expression strange. 

 “Should’ve set him up with one,” he says, quiet, and Phil pats him on the back. 

 “You couldn’t have known, mate. We wanted to wait a little before telling him about the Syndicate, remember?” 

 Techno hums, noncommittal. “Still.”)

 They Nether travel to the site of Techno’s lookout, which ends up being a little shambling thing with dirt walls dug into a small hill looking towards the prison portal, having hardly enough space to fit the three of them. Phil looks at it with no small amount of apprehension, and Techno shrugs lightly, wearing an expression that makes Phil turn to him with a look that makes Niki break into giggles. Techno crosses his arms- “in my defense-” and Phil looks up at the dirt ceiling with a long-suffering sigh. 

 “You couldn’t have made this a little roomier, mate?” Phil asks, voice dry as kindling, and Techno raises his hands by his head. 

 “Hey hey, it’s discreet, it gets the job done, it’s perfectly structurally sound-” the sound of the leftmost wall crumbling, along with the cloud of dust that puffs from it and fills their tiny space, undermines the tail end of his statement and leaves him sputtering, Niki falling into another fit of quiet giggles. Underneath it all, Phil sighs again, raising his wings behind him. 

 “...these are going to take so long to clean out.” 

 To his credit, Techno looks sheepish. “Sorry, Phil.”

 They sober up quickly; Techno turns around to the opposite side of the hill, where he’s hidden some peepholes inside the dirt - Niki settles herself by one, leaning forwards to put her eye to it and catch a glimpse of the prison looming over the water. It’s been repaired since the breakout, she notes, the gaping hole in the roof completely gone and replaced with obsidian, as intimidating and undamaged as it had been before, if not more so. Phil makes a considering sound from behind her.

 “Same plan as last time?” He asks, and Techno shakes his head. 

 “They’ve probably reinforced it, and Dream’s blueprints won’t include anything new the Warden’s added. I wouldn’t be surprised if they moved Dream to a different location completely. We don’t want to draw too much attention, either, we were cutting it pretty close during the breakout.” He narrows his eyes. “I was thinking we’d try something a little stealthier, this time. “ 

 He gestures at Niki, who blinks back at him with wide eyes. 

 “You got a couple of invis potions for us?”

 She distributes the potions among them all, one regular and two splash potions of invisibility each, and Techno points towards the prison once she’s done. 

 “The most important thing is to get through the portal,” he says with a grim expression. “Worst comes to worst, once we’re inside we can always blast our way through - but gettin’ through that portal is our first priority.” 

 Phil narrows his eyes at him. “The portal is locked, though. We’ll need to follow someone else inside- and I’m pretty sure Sam uses pearls, so he’s out.” 

 Techno nods. “Which is why I’m bankin’ on the prison gettin’ another visitor today. We’ll just have to wait.” 

 Niki swallows. “Do you mean-”

 “Quackity?” Techno turns away, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m not totally sure, but he’s not exactly the type to just give up on his goals. He’s pretty predictable- an empire needs an emperor, always needs something new to rule- you know the type,” he says, tipping his head towards Phil. “He’ll be mad at Dream for disappearin’ on him and won’t miss the opportunity to prove he has the upper hand again. I’m not sure that he’s going to come today-”

 “-but you wouldn’t really be surprised, either,” Phil finishes for him, eyes steely with cold determination. “I trust your judgement, mate. Just stay safe- from what I’ve heard, Quackity has been...erratic.” 

 “When is he not,” Techno huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine, Phil. Just be careful, both of you. Don’t get too close. And if things get messy- which is what we’re tryin’ to avoid, by the way- then don’t do anything too risky. Our priority is gettin’ in and out alive.” 

 “We can handle ourselves, Techno,” Niki reminds him with a small smile. “And Ranboo is there in case anything goes wrong.” 

 “Alright, then. Here’s the plan.” 

 ---

 It takes quite a long time for Quackity to arrive, long minutes that Niki spends fidgeting in the corner of the room, brushing her hands over seams of the netherite plates that Phil had shoved into her hands, back at the Syndicate room. The set is inexplicably light - not weightless, by any means, as it is still netherite, but not nearly as bulky as any set of netherite armor she’s owned or seen in the past. The runes are precise, lines thin and exact, written with graceful strokes of lapis. 

 “Phil’s the best metalworker I’ve ever met,” Techno tells her with a small grin, catching her in the middle of tracing what she can make out as an Unbreaking rune along the metal strapped to her forearm. “But then again, he’s had the time to practice.” 

 “Are you calling me old again?” Phil huffs, and Techno flashes a smile her direction before looking at Phil with a slight grin. 

 “Well, Chat is,” he says, lips twitching when Phil glares back. 

 “You can’t just blame Chat every time you insult me, you little shit,” Phil groans, and Techno only grins wider. 

 “Phil, my ad revenue,” he complains, a dramatic lilt to his voice that has Niki stifling a snort, and Phil’s glare only grows deadlier. 

 “You’ll have more than your ad revenue to worry about if you keep this up,” he mumbles, going back to keep watch at one of the peepholes and stilling as he does. “Shit- Techno, Quackity’s here.” 

 Techno straightens up, hindered slightly by the low ceiling of their room. “Alright- we all know the plan, right?” 

 Niki nods in the affirmative, pulling out a splash invis and letting it settle in her hand, the glass cool beneath her fingertips. She reaches into her inventory and lets her armor fade into it, takes a deep breath and watches as the two across from her do the same. She doesn’t wear armor often, but so close to the prison, feeling mining fatigue settling deep into her bones - she’s never missed the security it offers more. Techno keeps watch, waiting- drops his arm in a signal. Now. 

 Niki throws the potion at their feet, flinching back at the sound of shattering glass and feeling its effects seep into her skin. When she opens her eyes, she can’t see anything but the inside of the room that they’d holed themselves in and the faintest of wisps rising from where their feet must be, curling around the grass. 

 (Please let this work, she begs to no one in particular as they walk towards the prison. And if you can hear me- please keep us all safe.)

 She hardly breathes as they follow Quackity across the path, holding someone’s hand in her own - Phil’s, by the feel of it - careful to muffle her footsteps in the grass and stand still whenever Quackity’s eyes come a little too close. Thankfully for them, he seems focused, hardly stopping or looking around at all as he walks towards the prison’s portal, movements stiff as he walks forward. He punches the button on the wall particularly harshly, and Sam’s voice comes crackling through a speaker a second later. 

 “I’m here for my visit,” Quackity says, punctuating the sentence with a snort of laughter that doesn’t sound particularly sincere. Niki hasn’t seen him in a long while, not after everything that happened in Pogtopia, and she feels a chill worm down her spine - this man looks nothing like the one that had laughed and danced and sung at her birthday party what feels like an eternity ago. What happened? 

 Sam sighs, the sound turning into a sharp burst of static through the speakers. “Hello Quackity,” he says, voice deep and tired. “Please step into the portal after I tell you to and then wait on the other side.” 

 “I know the drill, Sam,” Quackity rolls his eyes. “Just because the bastard was gone for a few weeks doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how this damn place works.” 

 “Just going through protocol, Quackity,” Sam replies, and something about this response has Quackity exploding into a brief fit of laughter, the sound grating against Niki’s ears. She feels her grip tighten on Phil’s hand, air caught in her throat. 

 “Protocol- ha. Whatever you wanna tell yourself, pal.” Quackity smiles, cold and cruel, and Niki tries not to think about how she’d seen that same grin on Wilbur, eyes sparkling from the light of the lanterns hung from the bridges and walls of their ravine, remember how she’d looked into them and realized her old friend wasn’t there, anymore. Quackity disappears into the portal, and after a second, the hand around her own pulls her inside of it too.

 On the other side, Quackity taps his foot impatiently, crossing his arms and waiting- Sam’s voice comes through the speakers again, words clipped. 

 “Go through the portal,” he says, and Quackity does- once again, they wait for a second for his body to disappear, then go within it themselves, pressed close enough together within its frame for Niki to feel the warmth of a wing wrap around her shoulders for a quick second before they’re out of the hot, stifling air of the Nether and into a large, neatly made lobby of blackstone and quartz. They duck into a corner, watching as Quackity moves towards the front counter, the Warden waiting there with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks- tired. His movements are slow, footsteps loud against the floor, shoulders tense and back hunched. He walks around the counter, sword strapped to his belt, and Niki feels her breath hitch at the sight of dried blood still stuck to the blade in patches and splatters.

 “He ready?” Quackity asks, holding his hands out - Niki catches a flash of metal as Sam drops something into them, watches as Quackity raises what ends up being a pair of shears, dangerous-looking and gleaming with enchants, to the light. 

 “Yes,” Sam says, side-eyeing Quackity with a small glare. “You know, it’s supposed to be your job to clean those things off when you’re done with them.”

 “I told you, busy day back in Las Nevadas yesterday,” Quackity waves a hand- “I’ll do it, alright? Don’t get all pissy now. What happened to being partners?” 

 “You said we’d be done with this months ago, Quackity,” Sam sighs, and Niki feels a light tug on her arm as Quackity and Sam begin to walk towards the wall to the right of them, breathes in slow and deep as she follows Techno and Phil towards the others. The wall yawns open with the hiss of redstone firing and pistons pulling blocks upwards, opening into a dark hallway that feels like entering the maw of some sort of giant, insatiable beast. They step inside as one, and the door shuts behind them. 

 “We’ll be done soon enough,” Quackity says, and Niki feels hairs rising on the back of her neck. “Trust me.” 

 They stalk forwards through a labyrinth of blackstone, Niki brushing the palms of her hand against her clothes when it goes clammy from adrenaline. Halfway through, she pauses to tip back a second potion of invisibility, careful to keep her movements slow and steady as not to make a sound - the liquid is silvery, cool and light on her tongue, and she lets the effects wash over her with her breath caught in her lungs before moving forward. The tunnels are simpler than she’d expected, bearing little obstacles or checkpoints - Quackity makes a wry comment a second after (“Guard tunnels today, huh? Appreciate the hustle, pal-”) that confirms her suspicions. Despite the potion particles still whirling around their bodies and the sounds of their footsteps, too loud in her own ears, they manage to make it forwards without much trouble, entering a large room with a doorway filled completely with a curtain of lava. 

 “Set your spawn,” Sam says, still stoic, and Quackity rolls his eyes again before doing as told. Niki keeps looking back at the lava flowing past the wall, its heat filling the room and making her already slick palms even worse, and Sam moves to the side to flick a lever, eyes trained on the lava slowly bubbling in front of him. 

 “Give me your tools?” Quackity asks, and Sam sighs before doing so - Niki watches as he hands over a netherite axe, then potions, then a few raw potatoes that Quackity accepts and puts into his inventory. Sam raises an eyebrow once he’s done, hand tight around the handle of his trident. 

 “You bring your own sword, today?” He asks, seeming irritated, and Quackity shrugs. 

 “Sorry pal, I need to make a new one. Guess I’m borrowing yours again.” 

 Sam sighs again, louder, and hands over his sword as well, watching as Quackity swings it a few times experimentally. The blade skims a little too close to her on one swing and she can’t quite help the squeak that escapes her lips as she throws herself out of the way, feels her heart hammer in her ears as she backs up against the wall. Please don’t hear that please don’t hear that please don’t hear that please don’t hear that-

 “Quackity, wait.” Sam raises a hand, ear twitching as he looks over in her direction with narrowed eyes. “I think I heard something.”

 Oh fuck.

 “Well, guess show’s up then,” Techno drawls, and both of them whirl towards his voice, giving Niki enough time to pull her armor back on, scrambling to get her sword and shield in her hands as Phil does the same besides her. Pieces of armor appear where Techno is standing, then a bucket of milk- oh, why must her friends be so dramatic- and Techno’s standing there, smiling sharply, with Orphan Obliterator held loosely at his side. “Let’s get this done, then.” 

 As one, Techno and Phil blur into action - Techno moves forward to catch the prongs of Sam’s trident on his blade as Phil parries Quackity’s blows with his own sword- they move fluidly, easily covering each other’s backs as the room devolves into chaos. Niki remembers their guidance as she flits in and out of the fight, scoring quick hits to keep the Warden and Quackity off balance while remaining out of range from their weapons, and it’s not long before both of them have fallen with a spray of items and experience orbs scattered all over the floor. 

 Techno moves over to block off the exposed face of the bed with a block, looking over at the two of them with an uncharacteristically severe expression. “They’ll be back soon- we have to move fast. Niki, you have those fire res, right?” 

 She nods as she reaches into her inventory, finding the potion’s orange-pink glow and smashing it at their feet. They dive into the lava together, Niki scrambling to keep up, her arms struggling to move through the thick lava, loses sight of both until she flails into something directly in front of her and hands are pulling her up out of the lava. 

 “There you go, mate,” Phil smiles down at her as hauls herself to her feet, making a face at the feeling of the lava clinging to her clothes. “Yeah, swimming through lava isn’t exactly fun. You good?” She flashes him a thumbs up, and he laughs- “Niki, you’re still invisible.” She flushes pink- right.

 A few sips of milk later, she gives him a proper thumbs up, and he laughs, loud and bright. She looks past him to where Techno’s crouched over something- someone, she realizes with a start, in the corner. Dream’s back in prison clothes, ragged and ill-fitting, and he’s curled up with his back towards the front of the cell, shaking enough to be obvious even from where she’s standing. Techno speaks lowly, voice barely more than a deep rumble in the air, almost inaudible.

 “You there, Dream?” 

 She watches as Dream turns his head, looking up with wide, bleary eyes. His hair flops in front of his face, and something within her itches to brush it out of the way. “T-Techno?”

 “Yeah nerd, who else?” Techno smiles, and Dream seems to blink awake, drawing himself up with a shuddery breath. 

 “Techno- it’s a trap- what are you doing here?” he hisses, and Techno gives him a look, deadpan.

 “Yeah, yeah, it’s a trap- come on, Dream, we’ve been over this by now, bro. You have to know that their traps aren’t goin’ to do anything to me by now,” Techno rolls his eyes, reaching forward to steady his hands on Dream’s shoulders when the other man sputters and struggles to breathe. “Easy, now. Geez, you wanted to prove me wrong about being homeless bad enough that you came back here? We could’ve just made you a house, you know. You didn’t have to go this far.” 

 “I- they were gonna kill you,” Dream breathes, face twisted up uncomfortably, and his eyes flick past Techno’s face to where Phil and Niki are standing at the opposite wall of the cell. “All of you- they said-”

 “And that’s what I thought you’d say,” Techno groans. “Come on, you idiot, I thought you were smarter than this-” 

 “They were right there, Techno!” Dream fires back, eyes alight. “You- they were right there, what were you thinking, they could’ve-!”

 “And my best friend is a necromancer, remember?” Techno shakes his head. “Come on, Dream- Sam and Quackity? You know we can handle them in a fight, especially when you can just revive us if anything goes wrong. You don’t have to do this whole self-sacrifice thing, bro- there’s only so many times I can break into the same prison, y’know.” 

 “You’re so stupid,” Dream huffs, but he leans in anyway, head just barely settling against Techno’s shoulder. “I- I can’t believe. You’re so dumb.” 

 “Hey, don’t be sayin’ that to the guy that’s breakin’ you out of prison,” Techno laughs, slinging Dream over his shoulder with an easy motion and laughing harder when it makes him yelp. “That’s just bein’ ungrateful. You’re making Chat sad, man, and when they’re sad they don’t subscribe-” 

 “I regret this entirely,” Dream says, voice muffled against Techno’s shirt, tone completely flat. “Put me down- you idiot- I’m staying here. You’re worse than Quackity.” 

 “Rude. Now you’ve really made Chat mad. I demand an apology-” 

 “Boys, boys.” Niki can’t help giggling, watching the way their gazes snap towards her, rolling her eyes as she moves forward with a few potions held loosely in her hand. “Dream, do you want a health pot?” 

 Dream seems to deliberate for a second, before nodding at her, expression slightly strained. “...sure.” 

 “You two can finish your argument after we’ve broken out of the biggest maximum security prison on the server,” Phil drawls from behind her, arms crossed at his chest. “Come on, now, before Sam gets back.” 

 “Isn’t this the only maximum security prison on the server?” Techno asks aloud, an amused expression on his face - one that only gets worse when Phil glares at him with one ice-blue eye. 

 “Shut-” he sighs, shaking his head. “You two are chaotic little shits, you know that?”

 “Don’t compare me to him, Phil,” Techno complains, Dream mirroring his words with muffled protests of his own, and Phil breathes another drawn-out, long-suffering sigh as he rubs at the bridge of his nose. 

 “Niki, give us some fire res please?” 

 She finds the potion bottle between giggles, throwing it to the ground as she tries to choke down the laughter rapidly bubbling up her throat. “Of course, Phil.” 

 She looks back at Techno and Dream before jumping into the lava, the two of them once again lost in some sort of argument, Dream draped over Techno’s shoulder. He’s breathing easier now, she notes, and Techno looks looser too - a little less tense, leaning back with a perpetual quirk to the corner of his lip as they fire insults back and forth. This is familiar, she recognizes with a soft twist in her chest, the same way that Phil and Techno can finish each other’s sentences and look at each other with laughing eyes sharing the same memories of the past, the same way Ranboo watches Techno’s every step as he adjusts his stance and lifts his sword and Techno laughs and calls him a main character in turn, the same way she and Phil will settle together on the porch over cups of tea and sit at each other’s sides for hours. The rhythm between them is one well-established, the road well-worn - she imagines them, huddled in this dingy cell for months together, and breathes in slow and deep. 

 “Come on,” she smiles, making sure to keep it on her face when Dream meets her eyes with wide, startled ones of his own. Dream still isn’t an ally, and isn’t a friend. 

 But - she watches as he smiles back, something inexplicably warm in her chest - maybe, one day, he could be.

[dreamsclock]

I had a funni joke Headcanon but I don't remember it now and now I'm angry and my stupid memory so instead you get lil actor AU prompt

"The lil techno writing mess-up, but it actor AU"

i HAD to write this oh my god, you and the other anons that suggested this are geniuses this was so funny,,, without further ado, the actor au my beloved !!

warnings: fake violence + fighting, fake blood

The camera pushes closer eagerly, the crew signing instructions and reactions to each other as the fight in front of them continues strong. It’s a good thing, Techno reflects, that he’s friends with Tommy and they work so well together - this would be a hell of a lot more awkward with someone he didn’t know as well.

Still, it’s a little unsettling to see such hatred and betrayal etched into his friend’s face. He’ll never admit it, obviously, because Tommy has a big enough head, but Tommy is a pretty fucking good actor: in such a high stakes scene, it almost feels real. Techno forces himself to shake off those thoughts, ducking under a wild swing from Tommy and retaliating with one of his own. This one strikes Tommy’s shoulder, and Tommy, though not hurt (and Techno is being careful) reacts with a yell, staggering back with blood pouring from his shoulder.

Fuck. That’s a lotta blood. Poor character Tommy, Techno reflects, even as he prepares his next attack. He’s gonna have a hard time with his shoulder after this. At least Tommy - real Tommy, his friend and fellow actor Tommy - will be happy about the badass scar, even if he’ll complain the whole time he has to sit through makeup.

Techno knows how the script goes, but it doesn’t make it any easier to beat Tommy up so callously. And it’s not like his character doesn’t have reason - provoked by Wilbur’s comments and Tommy’s ire and the terror of being alone at the festival to kill Tubbo - but still, man, he’s not in the swing of acting after a break away from it, things still feel tense. It’s hard to focus on remembering the choreography of this fight (swing, duck, parry, swing) never mind his lines, never mind what comes after.

But all too soon, Tommy is broken down on the ground, kneeling at his feet and spitting out blood from his teeth - yeah, okay, Techno takes it back, Tommy is a fucking amazing actor, and he’ll tell the kid that after recording today - and it’s his time to shine. My fifteen seconds of fame on the Dream SMP, Techno reflects sarcastically, even as he crouches down to Tommy’s level, gripping his chin between two firm fingers. The camera angle switches, going for a close up, even as Tommy’s eyes gleam mutinously at him.

“This was inevitable,” he begins, and oh, God, oh God he actually has lines here, what the fuck are his lines? “You shoulda seen this coming, man.”

Tommy spits at his feet, panting heavily. “Fuck you. We could’ve- We could’ve fixed things! We coulda saved Tubbo! And you fucking murdered him, you murdered him up on that stage like you never fucking cared about him!”

“You see, Tommy, you’re using words,” Techno says, trying instead to focus on his acting - that’s the important part, he just has to trust the lines will come naturally, “but the thing about this world, Tommy, is that the only universal language is language.”

Silence. Dead silence, bated breath silence. Tommy stares at him, blank faced. Techno wonders what he’d done wrong, mentally reviewing his position and the lines. Using words.... universal language....

...Language...

He mentally stops. Oh.

Dream’s wheezing giggle echoes from the back of the hall, and that’s enough to tip everyone over the edge. 

Tommy shrieks with laughter beside him, doubled over and clutching his stomach as he laughs, and even Wilbur “Don’t-Talk-To-Me-While-I’m-Acting-Or-I’ll-Blow-Something-Up” Soot is giggling, burying his face in the makeshift stone wall to hide his laughs. Techno, disgruntled as he is, feels the corners of his lip press upwards into a grin.

“Oh, so that’s how it is,” he calls over the laughter and hilarity ensuing, “Tommy can mess up as many lines as he wants without being laughed at, and I mess up one and I’m suddenly the clown at the circus?”

“That’s the funniest fucking shit you’ve ever done,” Tommy says weakly, wiping tears out of his eyes, “oh my fucking god, I’m going to die, I think I’m gonna die.”

Wilbur claps his hands, face flushed from laughter. “Let’s—” He begins, but erupts with another giggle. “Let’s take five minutes, alright? Fuck, I think we need a break to get ourselves under control.”

And with that he’s gone, disappearing into the crowds with laughter floating after him, and Techno has to try hard not to follow him in hilarity. Instead, as the actors split, he turns to Phil, pinning him with the most long-suffering look possible. “Phil,” he deadpans, “I hate this place. I wanna go back to our old SMP Earth cast.”

His friend, chuckling, does his best to hide his laughter loyally for Techno. “Think of this as a welcome to the family,” he grins, “if it makes you feel any better, Wilbur forgot a line and accidentally made it canon that he had sex with a fish. People still laugh at him for it.”

Techno blinks, before swivelling to see Wilbur in the distance talking animatedly about something to Schlatt. His eyes narrow.

“That wasn’t an accident and you know it,” he tells him dryly, “that was Wilbur needing an excuse to add an awful horrible idea from his brain into the script and deliberately messing up his line.”

He sighs, shaking his head and turning away.

“I hate it here.”

It’s deadpan, more to himself than to Phil, but Techno is grinning, and he doesn’t really mean it.

Think of this as a welcome to the family, Phil had told him, and Techno, looking round at his friends, decides to do just that.

[smutsonian]

Hi there! Can I please place request? How about nomad Steve angst with loads of tears with happy ending? Make it dark please? Probably he impregnates you and leaves you for someone else but when he sees Bruce taking care of you it pisses him off and he makes you his? Probably takes Bucky to help 👀

keep you safe

steve rogers x reader ft. bruce banner

warnings: dark fic, dark!steve, angst, manipulation, drugging, panic attack, toxic steve(he’s back guys), fucked up shit, not proofread

word count: 3.7k

a/n: ouch... also, this is all over the place. I’m sorry this one doesn’t have smut just pure manipulation and darkness and angst also im going to consider this as a oneshot

masterlist

- So, I’m thinking like maybe you and Steve were together before the civil war even happened?

- Like he’s still this soft puppy and he really took his time with you.

- He was this very shy but very romantic guy. A real gentleman who took you on a lot of dates before even making a move to kiss you. AND you were the first to initiate the kiss.

- It’s easy to say that falling in love with this man was inevitable. 

- It was perfect. He was perfect. You were perfect.

- Then suddenly it wasn��t.

- Steve started acting strange and distant and it’s not normal for you to doubt his love for you because he’s Steve. He always, and I mean ALWAYS make you feel how much he loves you.

- But is it possible that he’s not in love with you anymore?

- Then you find out that you’re pregnant and you would’ve been ecstatic if it weren’t for the downfall you’re facing called your relationship with Steve.

- You’ve been imagining this moment your whole relationship with Steve. How the both of you would be crying with joy and how the both of you will be planning for your future but that’s not happening right now is it? 

- The only thing that happened is the crying part and it was just you crying. Not with joy but with fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of abandonment. And the fear of having to raise a child alone if Steve didn’t want one with you.

- Then flashes of memories you had with Steve appear in your eyes and a smile works its way back to your lips.

- What the hell were you even thinking? Steve would be delighted to find out.

- Steve loves you and he’s just busy with his never ending missions. Steve loves you... Right?

- Wrong.

- The moment you got Steve alone, he seemed very irritated that he’s even in a room with you and that didn’t really help you. You were finding it hard to announce the news and how he’s acting is not helping.

- “Is there a reason for this? I’m very busy, Y/N,” he grumbles but you weren’t offended by his dismissiveness. All that’s going on inside your mind is how he called you by your name. Long gone were the nicknames he always had for you. There was no love when he said your name, only annoyance.

- “I-I have to tell you something,” you stuttered, no longer very fond of the idea about telling him but he deserves to know. Is it horrible to think that maybe he’ll change once he finds out? Will it seem like you’re tying him down with your pregnancy?

- “Well get on with it.,” he says dismissively. Something flashed in his eyes before a grin falls on his lips. For a moment, you thought he was back to his usual self and that made you breathe a little better. “I have to tell you something as well,” he adds before motioning for you to continue.

- “I... Steve, I’m pregnant.” You just went for it, afraid that you may back out when you stalled more.

- Steve’s reaction was nothing you expected. He was too relaxed and you didn’t know if you’re going to be relieved or scared.

- “And I want to break up with you.” His face showed arrogance and the smile that you used to love so much made your skin crawl. It’s like he lived on making you feel this way.

- What exactly were you feeling? Betrayal? Sadness? Anger? No. You can never bring yourself to be mad at him. 

- “Is that all?” He asks, his tone getting really impatient that easily makes you feel very belittled and insignificant.

- You can’t find yourself to do anything as Steve rolls his eyes before turning around to walk away. 

- You managed to whisper a small “W-wait.” Thankful for his super soldier serum for hearing you.

- He stares at you, still impatient. 

- “I-Is that it?” Your eyes started to water, everything falling into you and you start to realize what’s happening.

- “A-are we over? That’s it? You’re breaking up with me because y-you don’t want t-the baby? We can work things out, Steve. It’s... I- It’s normal for couples to not get along sometimes. We can work things out. We always do!” You didn’t even realize that you were crying, whining, or sobbing. You just remember trying your best to make him stay.

- “This is really pathetic, Y/N. I thought you were better than this.” He shakes his head in disappointment which only added a new scar to your heart. You don’t want him being disappointed by you. 

- “You want a reason? I’ll give you one. I’ll give you more than one. We are no longer working out. It’s not the same anymore. We’ve obviously fallen apart and I met Sharon...” His face shows guilt and you being so in love with the man, that guilt gave you hope. If he feels guilty then maybe he still cares about you...

- “I never did anything with her, though. Not when I’m still with you. I’m not that kind of man. I’m doing you a favor by breaking up with you. I’m not going to cheat on you, Y/N. I cared about you. I loved you. But this is the end for us. As for the pregnancy... Time changed a lot in this place. I’m pretty sure there are lots of choices for you...” He gives your shoulder a pat before turning around and leaving. Never once looking back at your disheveled form.

- Your heart hurt. The pain was all over you and your ears were ringing and all that’s going on inside your mind is how Steve left you. He told you that he cared and loved you and that’s all in the past now.

- If you didn’t know whether to be relieved or scared earlier, now you do. 

- And just like that, you forced yourself to leave. You didn’t know what to do, who to call, where to go. You just know that you had to leave the tower. You were no longer with Steve. You didn’t have the right to be in that place anymore. 

- You just had to go.

- You were never really trying to move on. You tried but then you gave up because you can never get over a guy like Steve. You loved him. You still love him. Him loving someone else doesn’t really stop you from loving him. You should but you can’t. And you really didn’t want to. 

- You stayed at a friend’s house for a while. They were nice enough to lend you a place to stay, though it’s for a limited amount of time, you were still very thankful. Beggars can’t be choosers.

- You never heard from Steve. Last time you got an update about him was when the news reporter was announcing that the hero was a wanted criminal now. Something about the winter soldier. 

- You immediately realized that the winter soldier is his long time friend from all the stories that he used to tell you when you were still together. 

- You didn’t know what to feel but you forced yourself to not care. You can’t do anything about it. You only hoped he was in a safe place. You shouldn’t care that much but you did. You still can’t forget about him. Not when you’re carrying his child.

- You were walking around the city, desperately finding a job when you bumped into him. 

- Bruce Banner.

- You never really got to get to know him much because when you met him, he was timid and you only ever really talked to him when you bump into him in the tower. And then he disappeared and that’s that.

- But he’s there right in front of you and you didn’t think he’d actually notice you or remember who you are but he did. And he greeted you with a smile. A smile that he never really wore back then.

- “Y/N? Is that you?” He laughed before bringing you into a hug. Well, that’s new. 

- “Bruce? Where have you been?” You laughed before returning the hug.

- “It’s a long story... How are you?” He offered to treat you lunch and you followed. You’re basically homeless in a few days so might as well accept blessings when you can, right?

- You told him everything that happened. You told him that you had no idea where Steve is because you broke up before he became a war criminal.

- He noticed your growing stomach and it was quite hilarious and adorable how he was so shy about asking so you told him about it.

- “Yeah, I’m pregnant.” You chuckled at his embarrassed face then apologizing to you for staring. You waved it off, telling him that it’s fine.

- “Sorry to ask but Captain left you even after you told him?” Bruce looks bewildered and disgusted and you could only nod in response, face falling at the memories.

- “Where are you staying right now?” Bruce asked with worry written all over his face.

- “At a friend’s...” You so desperately wanted to ask for help but now is the time that your pride decided to show up.

- “I don’t think that’s safe for you and the baby... You were... The captain’s girlfriend and people can use you for bait. Especially now that he’s wanted... Listen, the tower is really empty right now. Only Tony, Rhodes, and I. I can talk to Tony about it. You can stay there and nobody would even know that you’re there. I’m staying there and nobody knows but Tony...” Bruce’s words gave you hope and you could only nod in tears of joy. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad for you.

- You understand why Bruce wanted to be hidden and that’s something that the both of you would bond over.

- After a few more months, you got bigger. (yep, you kept the baby and fuck steve and his fucking fuckity fuck)

- Bruce is a doctor and you grew to trust him as time went by so it’s normal for him to be the one checking up on you.

- You became very close with Bruce and you found solace in him. He just seems like he knew everything that he’s doing and you felt safe with him. You and your baby are safe with him.

- Steve never really left your mind, not when his child is growing inside of you, but you learned how to live without him.

- You avoided the news because you didn’t want to hear about him, an exercise you taught yourself to become somewhat better.

- So imagine your surprise when he shows up at the tower.

- He looked different. Longer and darker hair. Beard. He looked well and you hated how relieved you were at the thought of him being safe and healthy.

- You locked eyes with him and everything came back to you.

- The hurt you felt when he tossed you aside and the hurt you felt when he dismissed you and your baby.

- You felt sick when you saw his eyes traveling down your body and staring at your very swollen stomach.

- You began breathing unevenly and your chest was becoming tighter. Steve made you nervous. You hate how you feel insecure under his gaze. You hate how you feel like you’re disappointing him and you hate your heart still yearns for him.

- You felt hands snaking around your frame comfortingly and Bruce’s familiar voice brings you out of your mind. 

- “Breathe, Y/N… Breathe....” He guided you out of the room, needing the privacy and you thanked him for that after you’re finally breathing properly.

- What you didn’t see was Steve’s fuming face when he saw how Bruce held you and how you reacted to the doctor’s touch. The way you calmed down after hearing his voice. 

- Steve remembered how you started panicking after seeing him and he hated how you reacted that way towards him but he hates how you reacted towards Bruce the most.

- Steve’s hatred was drowned by the swelling of his heart when he saw you and your stomach. You’re still carrying his baby and he’s so thankful that you kept his child. He couldn’t love you more at that moment.

- Yes. He loves you. He came back for you and to see you in somebody else’s arms? To see you being comforted by someone else than him? He knows that he’s at fault and he probably deserve it but he’s going to do better. He’s going to be the best he can be. He’s going to be the best for you.

- He’s going to be the man that you would need. You and his baby.

- He’s got a lot to pay for and he’s going to do just that. If only you can cooperate with him…

- Steve watches as Bruce does your ultrasound. He should be there with you but he’s giving you time. He’s giving you space. He doesn’t want you getting overwhelmed again. It’s not healthy for you or the baby so he stands in the shadows, watching you and the baby on the screen.

- “Is that him?” Your voice wavers in excitement and Steve wanted nothing else but to hold your hand but he can’t. Instead, he just watches Bruce’s hand gripping yours in comfort and that just won’t work for Steve… He needs to talk to you.

- “He’s so small but so big at the same time!” Your laugh makes Steve’s heart swell with joy. He will get you back. He’ll do anything and if you don’t want to… He’ll make you want to.

- Steve finally gets you alone. He didn’t force himself on you. He waited. He waited and waited and now you’re ready to finally talk to him.

- “Doll…” He goes over to you to hug you but you step back, avoiding him. If that didn’t hurt his heart, the words you spoke did.

- “Captain.” Your words were short and curt. It’s like you didn’t even want to be there with him at all. And what’s with you calling him captain?

- “I wanted to talk to you, doll.” His voice was soft like honey and you feel your heart pounding with joy but you remained stoic.

- “Well, get on with it.” You should be feeling some sort of relief for repeating his word back then to him but you only felt guilt and the need to comfort him when his face fell and a dejected expression takes place on his face.

- “I-I want to apologize, first of all. You didn’t deserve anything I said back then. I was horrible an- and… I just wanted you to know that I never wanted to hurt you, doll. I love yo-”

- “Well you hurt me. You hurt me a lot.” You cut him off, the stoic expression you were holding is now gone. Steve’s face turns into guilt and he makes a move towards you again but you stop him with a shake of your head.

- “I don’t want to do anything with you right now. I… I don’t even know why you’re bothering to talk to me right now when you were so eager to get rid of me back then. What changed?” You looked at him with those eyes that Steve always felt weak for. He hated himself for hurting you but that’s the only way for you to be safe. He was going to look for Bucky and that will bring a lot of problems and he didn’t want you to be caught in between his fights. He loves you too much and at that time, he believed that hurting you was the best option.

- “I wanted you to be safe, Y/N…” Steve explained, his hand weakly reaching for you but every time you would reject him just adds another stab into his bleeding heart.

- “Well, fuck.” You spat. Steve looked at you in confusion, almost flinching at the way you’re glaring at him.

- “You wanted me safe?” You let out a humorless laugh and this time, Steve flinches.

- “Well thank you, I guess.” You say, voice not holding any emotion anymore. Steve liked you being mad at him rather than this. He didn’t like how you seem like you’ve given up feeling anything for him. He’d rather you mad at him than nothing at all. He deserves your anger towards him. Not this.

- “Well, you can continue making sure I’m safe by fucking off and leaving me to myself then.” That’s the last thing you said before leaving, never once looking back at his disheveled form.

- Steve hated how he feels but he knows that he deserves every single stab in his heart. He knows he deserves more hurting. He wants you to hurt him but you’d never do that. Not his Y/N.

- You’re right though. He will keep you safe. He’ll show you just how much he can take care of you and make you safe. 

- He’ll make sure to have you back in his arms. You’re going to be a family and he’ll protect his family at all cost. He’s never loved a woman as he loves you. Not Sharon and not Peggy. 

- You never talked to Steve after that confrontation but you still see him. You see him watching over you and you couldn’t help but feel the swelling of your heart whenever you see him.

- You’d see him putting your favorite cereal box down on the counter before you can enter the kitchen so you wouldn’t have to reach for it.

- You’d see him doing simple things to keep you safe and each time, you find yourself longing for the old days you had with him. You find yourself longing for Steve.

- Then it happened.

- Bucky somehow got triggered into becoming the winter soldier and your first reaction would be to find Steve but this time, you didn’t. You went to Bruce. 

- Steve’s jaw clenches when he sees you running towards the lab to find Bruce, your hand protecting your stomach. Steve ran towards the lab as well, knowing too well what’s about to happen and he’ll be there to save the day.

- Looking for Bruce didn’t end well because he found you. Not Bruce but the green angry man. The hulk.

- He was shouting while the winter soldier was watching the green man with interest. He somehow managed to trigger the hulk. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of someone controlling your best friend.

- “Bruce! It’s me!” You shout but the green man only growled before pouncing at you. 

- You turned around, crouching and hugging your stomach to protect your baby but the impact never happened.

- The sound of clashing and fighting made you turn around and you see Steve dodging the hulk’s punches with his shield and your heart leaped in relief. You relaxed for a second before feeling worried for Steve. 

- It’s like a normal reaction for your body to feel safe with Steve and your brain is starting to believe that too. You remembered his words from before… He just wanted you to be safe. 

- He hurt you to keep you safe and you’re starting to understand that now.

- “Y/N!” You see him running towards you with worry written all over his face.

- “Are you okay?!” He asked, hands shaking as he scanned you for any scars.

- “I-I’m fine, Steve… Are you okay?” You tried to look him over for scars but he pulled you into a hug, crying and shaking against your body as he rubbed his hand behind your back.

- “I thought you got hurt. I thought I failed… I just wanted to protect you…” He choked on his words and you hugged him tighter.

- You understand everything now.

- He just wanted to keep you safe.

- You pulled back from the hug before wiping his tears away with your thumbs. 

- “What about Bucky and Bruce?” You turned to look behind him but Steve stopped you.

- “Bucky’s alright. He’s back and he’s bringing Bruce to the medbay…” Steve breathes heavily, reminding you of the battle he just had.

- “A-Are you okay, Steve?” You repeat your question and he nods in response before pulling you into a hug again.

- “I don’t care about me. As long as you’re safe. As long as you’re both safe…” He pulls back before pressing a hand on your stomach.

- “I’ll feel safe when you’re both safe. I’ll only feel safe when I know you’re safe. Y/N… Doll… I am fucking sorry for hurting you. There’s no excuse for that. I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore... What I did was horri-”

- “Steve.” You cut him off and he looks at you with sadness and regret.

- You cup his face with both hands before smiling.

- “Thank you, Steve. Thank you for keeping me safe. For keeping us safe.” You grabbed Steve’s right hand before placing it back on your stomach.

- “You keep us safe… Thank you, Steve.” You see Steve’s eyes starting to water once more and you giggle before moving in, stopping just a few inches from his face. 

- Your eyes flutter before you leaned closer, finally closing the distance and kissing him.

- You feel his hand moving from your stomach to your back to pull you closer and tighter to his body.

- “I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much.” He whispers through the kiss.

- “I’ll always keep you safe, Y/N. I will never hurt you anymore. I’ll be the best husband and father…” He whispers before lifting you up.

- “I’ll keep you safe.” He whispers one last time before carrying you back to your room. The room that you’ll be sharing with him soon. Actually, you wouldn’t even need that room because Steve will make sure to get a place where the two of you can be alone. The tower isn’t safe for you anymore. Only Steve can keep you safe.

- Steve celebrates in his mind as the mission went successfully. With Bucky helping him. With how they were able to drug Bruce’s coffee. Everything went perfectly. You fell right back into his arms.

- And Steve will keep his promise.

- He’ll keep you safe.

- He’ll keep his family safe. 

------

undeserved happy ending for steve but what about it💀

taglist

General: @readermia @unlikelygalaxygiver @xoxabs88xox @anncutamarica @chaoticfiretaconerd @i-love-superhero @caffiend-queen @coconutqueen21 @jtargaryen18 @jennmurawski13 @mushyjellybeans @ninjabucky @evnscvll @buckstaybucky @donutloverxo @rebloggingeverything @adriannajackson @la-cey @awaywithtime @gotnofucks @littlegasps

Anything Chris: @patzammit @princess-evans-addict @shadowcatsworld @notyourtypicalrose @onetwo3000 @bluemusickid @heyiamthatbitch @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @empath-bunny @slytherinandoutasgard

Chris and seb: @harrysthiccthighss

Marvel: @jemzeraion

[beewolfwrites]

An Iron Box - The Answer

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @hiqhkey @serenzippity

That rooftop scene is growing closer, and so is my excitement :D

I’ve noticed a few new readers, and I just wanted to add a heads up that you can find the Tumblr post links and the AO3 links to each of the three fics at the top of my Tumblr, if that helps at all! 

Here’s the AO3 link to this chapter too.  

I hope you like it! <3

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

‘Chishiya, I’d hate to be your enemy.’ 

When Arisu had spoken those words right as he punched in the code, he’d already made his fatal mistake.

You are all my enemies, in a way.   

I stood back, watching as Arisu’s bloodied and unconscious body was slung over a militant’s shoulder and carried out of the royal suite. Usagi went next, kicking and screaming her boyfriend’s name. Just as she was dragged out the door, her eyes locked on me, and I could see the sheer betrayal there, the hatred burning and seething under her skin. 

I simply smiled. 

It wasn’t personal. It’s just how this world works.

Sometimes you have to sacrifice a pawn to reach the king. 

The rest of us meandered out into the hall where the two traitors were being hauled towards their fate. I felt a hand clamp firmly on my shoulder, and fought the urge to move away when I saw Aguni standing beside me.

‘You did good, Chishiya. I never did trust those two.’ 

You should rethink where you put your trust. 

‘Don’t mention it,’ I said. ‘It’s the least I could do.’ 

There was a furious cry down the hall as Usagi bit someone’s hand, followed by a slap, and then silence. I already had an inkling about what would happen to the two of them. Knowing Niragi, he would have some fun with Usagi before disposing of her. Perhaps I should’ve felt guilty. Some people certainly would. But there was a small, satisfied part of me that was glad it was her instead of... 

‘That reminds me,’ Aguni said. ‘How did you know about them?’ 

‘Ah… that.’ I took the walkie talkie out of my pocket and flashed it to him. ‘They tried to get me to join them. I went along with it to find out the details, and you know the rest.’ 

Aguni’s brows furrowed at the sight of the device, but he didn’t ask to inspect or keep it. That’s when I knew I had him wrapped around my finger. 

‘I understand. If you see any other suspicious behaviour, let me know.’ 

‘Of course.’ 

I nodded politely as he disappeared down the hall and submerged himself in his room.

Now that those two were taken care of, the militants would be distracted for a little while. That left us a generous amount of time until dark, although the real plan wouldn’t take long to execute, especially now I knew where the actual safe was.  

Aguni may have been observant, but not nearly as observant as I was. Knowing that he had come so close to having the cards snatched from right under his nose, it would’ve unsettled anyone. And in such an unstable situation, it was only human nature to seek stability by making sure that your precious items are untouched. 

I guess I was wrong about the blank sheet. 

There was a room on the top floor that I knew wasn’t currently being used. In such close proximity to the royal suite, it was the perfect hideout where I could talk into the walkie talkie without worrying about eavesdroppers. 

Slipping inside, I pulled it from my pocket once again to tune it to a radio frequency I had told Kuina about earlier. Knowing her, she would have tuned (name’s) to the same one right after Arisu’s capture. 

I lifted the walkie talkie to my mouth. ‘Kuina?’ 

There was a drawn out moment of static, then Kuina’s voice crackled through. ‘I’m here. (Name) still needs a minute though.’ 

I figured as much. Once she realised what was happening, it was inevitable that she would react badly. Having Kuina there to keep her away from Arisu and Usagi had been for the best. And now she knew that I had unwillingly involved her in a plan like this, her opinion of me had probably sunk lower than before. 

Is this also for the best? 

I sat down on the unused bed, deciding that yes, it was. She would only be a distraction. If it came down to it, I needed to survive. And once we left the Beach, if she despised me so much that she chose to go down a separate path, it couldn’t be better. 

But still… 

‘Chishiya.’ Kuina’s voice interrupted the quiet. ‘I hope you feel guilty for this. I seriously hope a small part of you realises how screwed up this was.’ 

I smiled at her lack of understanding. I realised perfectly well, but for the sake of surviving in a world like this, you couldn’t allow yourself to slip to the bottom of the food chain.

‘You’ve changed your tune,’ I replied. ‘Are you backing out all of a sudden?’ 

‘Of course not. I can’t afford to, and neither can (name).’ She paused, then tentatively asked, ‘Did you know? About her… and you, you know.’ 

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ 

‘Did you know she had feel—’ Kuina’s voice stopped, then she hushed, ‘She’s coming out now. We’ll be upstairs soon.’ 

The communication cut off, and all I could do was wait until they were in position. Wait, and mull over Kuina’s unfinished question. Obviously, they had been talking about me, but I almost didn’t want to know what they had said. 

I waited fifteen minutes, and there was still no sign from either of them. If they carried on at this speed, we would run out of time. Growing restless, I held up the walkie talkie. 

‘You two, how are things on your side?’

There was no response, but they would have to reply eventually. What I didn’t expect was her voice to come through. 

‘You’re all good to go from where I’m standing.’ Her voice was still dripping with unspoken anger and betrayal, and it was surprising she was even willing to talk to me. 

So you’re not as childish as you act. Who would’ve thought. 

‘Aguni’s still in his room,’ Kuina followed up with a sigh. ‘We’re getting bored now.’ 

‘Then should we get going with the plan?’ I suggested. The reply I got was scathing. 

‘We’ve already gotten going. It’s you who needs to hurry up.’ 

That attitude, it was almost laughable. How commanding (name) had become in an instant, as if she weren’t tagging along on someone else’s plan.

‘Patience,’ I reminded her, and turning down the volume on the walkie talkie, I cracked open the door. 

In the hall, there wasn’t a soul in sight. It couldn’t have been more perfect. The royal suite was unguarded, and I easily slipped by unnoticed. Inside, the room was bathed in darkness, and it became apparent Aguni hadn’t yet bothered to move his belongings in. There were still traces of the incident earlier. The carpet by the open wardrobe was spotted with blood. Arisu’s blood. 

I turned the volume on the walkie talkie back up. ‘I don’t know if Arisu is stupid or intelligent. Hatter was paranoid. He wouldn’t have hidden the cards in a normal safe.’

‘Where’s the real one then?’ Kuina asked. 

I turned to the deer painting on the wall. It didn’t particularly stand out as anything special, just a deer’s face and antlers against a blue toned background. And yet earlier that day, despite all the commotion and Arisu’s screams of pain, it had captured Aguni’s focus. 

‘When Arisu was caught,’ I said, slowly approaching the painting, ‘Aguni wasn’t paying attention. He was looking towards a certain picture on the wall. It turns out the paper wasn’t empty after all. It contained a drawing instead.’ 

Briefly placing the walkie talkie on a side table, I lifted the painting from the wall, uncovering the hidden treasure that I had been hoping for. The plaster had been carved up, forming a hole large enough to jam a small safe inside. And sure enough, there it was. A hotel safe, much like the one Arisu had tried, was embedded deep into the wall. 

Her voice, sounded through the static. ‘So, you had no idea where it was until then?’ 

I picked up the walkie talkie again. ‘Exactly. What happened to Arisu was necessary if we were going to find the real safe. Speaking of which, I’ve found it.’ 

Now it was the moment of truth. The final test to see if my code was correct. I punched the numbers in one by one. 8022. Each one held its own magnitude, and I half-expected an alarm to ring out. 

Except it didn’t. The safe display read ‘OPEN’. 

‘You used him just for that?’ was Kuina’s tired response. 

Really, after all this time, did she not realise that this was the price one had to pay? This world had a certain dynamic. In order to survive, you couldn’t allow yourself to get caught up in guilt or shame. 

‘In order to gain something, you have to lose something,’ I said. ‘He’s just a sacrifice. Things like this happen a lot, don’t they?’

'No, they don’t. Not at all. I really don’t want to be your enemy.’

I smiled, remembering the betrayal in Arisu’s expression. ‘I get that a lot.’ 

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

The deck was like a weight, swinging in my pocket. A surefire sense of power and danger, all hidden within a stack of cards. There was no way of knowing whether collecting them granted any passage back to the old world. But there was also nothing to prove that they didn’t. 

Either way, I’m certain something will happen once the deck is completed. 

These cards couldn’t be for nothing. 

After replacing the painting, I told Kuina and (name) to meet me near the patio exit at the east of the hotel. I could’ve caught up with them on my way down from the top floor, but I wanted to make a small diversion. 

I’d never felt any attachment to my room, and even now as I took one last look, there was nothing in particular keeping me here. 

Well, maybe just one thing. 

Pulling open the second drawer down on the desk, I felt around at the back for the tiny box. It was only small, and the ring inside even smaller. It sat open in the palm of my hand, the silver fashioned into a small sun with a glistening green centre. 

Somehow, its weight was even heavier than the cards. 

Is there any point?

I could’ve easily slipped it into my pocket, but it was practically useless. Even if I gave it to her, she would instantly reject it. 

I placed the box back in the draw. It would stay a secret for the next person moving into this room. As I shut the drawer, I suddenly remembered another, darker secret hidden inside the one below. I opened it up, seeing the little souvenir I’d taken from my first game. 

The pistol glistened inside, metallic and dangerous. Now that would certainly keep Niragi at bay. But again, was it worth it? It didn’t hold many bullets, and it wouldn’t stand a chance against a rifle. Once we were out of here, I could probably find something a little bigger, perhaps in Tokyo’s empty Yakuza hotspots. 

I left it there along with the ring. Even walking away felt like tugging at a string that kept pulling me back towards that tiny box. I would have to rip that string apart. 

Making my way down through the hotel, I strolled outside, dipping into the smaller paths where the patio was peaceful. The only sounds were the faded music drowned out by wind, and the soft trill of crickets. Two silhouettes came into view, one basking in the glow beneath a lamppost, the other hidden against the wall in its shadow. 

‘I guess we won’t be needing these anymore.’ I pulled off the wristband I had gotten so used to wearing. Just as I reached the brick archway at the edge of the grounds, Kuina spoke.

‘Don’t you feel sorry?’ 

I paused. ‘Sorry?’ 

‘About what happened to Arisu,’ (name) said. ‘I feel really sorry for him. We both do.’

Kuina hummed in agreement. ‘Don’t you?’

I turned, glancing from Kuina’s frown to the figure behind her. No matter how hard she tried to hide in her friend’s shadow, I could always find her, especially when her eyes looked so full of anger and hurt. Standing there, both bracing themselves against the cold, the two of them echoed off one another in perfect harmony. 

‘I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.’ 

I knew what line came next. She didn’t have to sing, so long as she was still breathing. Perhaps I could make her understand. 

‘Is there anything we wouldn’t do in order to survive?’ 

Clearly, there was. Their eyes widened, as if the truth of this world hadn’t fully hit them yet. As if all my efforts had been for nothing in their eyes. 

Fine. Very well. 

I smiled, no longer caring to hide the bitterness. ‘If you both feel so worried, then maybe you should go and help him.’ 

And of course, neither of them budged. They knew they couldn’t. They were both so happy to come with me if it meant escaping the Beach, yet they still felt the right to criticise my methods. I turned back towards the arch and took the first step forward into freedom, only to hear that tiny, oh-so-familiar sound. 

A buzzing. 

‘It can’t be,’ I muttered. 

This was always a possibility. But why here? Why now? Why, when I was so close to winning? Any other time, and I wouldn’t have minded. This, however, was simply annoying. 

I was so deep in thought, I barely registered the footsteps behind me… the familiar form sliding past me… walking closer towards the arch. 

‘Stop.’

My hand moved on its own, grabbing her wrist and tugging her back just in time. For one small second I felt the heat of her skin, right before it was yanked out of my grip. 

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She touched her wrist as if it had been burned, unaware that it had been the other way around. 

I couldn’t answer. The cold had settled back in, the emptiness. It only confirmed that nagging suspicion I already knew. The reason I couldn’t rip the string apart. She was the answer.

Kuina appeared at my side, waiting for an explanation. Her presence reminded me that there was something far, far more pressing at stake. Suddenly remembering the wristband I was holding, I tossed it into the arch. 

A glowing red laser shot through the centre and it clattered to the ground. 

The timing was almost ironic, too perfect to be true. Almost like the gamemasters had been watching us all along, just as they had with that little stunt they pulled in the Eight of Hearts. As frustrating as this was, I had to admire their creativity. 

I sighed, turning around to see a wall of lasers appear along the parameters of the hotel.

Touche. 

[papa-rhys]

Thoughts on Jack and His Borderline Personality Disorder and How It Shows Through His Behaviour - Because I Cannot Stop Analysing Things That Ultimately Aren’t Important

Symptoms/behaviours under the cut because holy hell this guy has a lot of them. Like, honey, are you okay?

Okay, so I’m pretty sure I can trace Jack’s BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) back to his grandmother. His mum abandoned him, which shows a reckless/irresponsible behaviour and her mum had fits of rage that didn’t correlate at all with the trigger (ie; drowning Jack’s cat because he didn’t make his bed). So I think he has a family history of it, with both his mother and grandmother having BPD and passing it down to him.

Either way, Jack definitely has it. In fact, he’s a textbook case of it.

Impulsivity

Spending sprees: he bought a pony made of diamonds because he was bored and throws money at all kinds of ventures to keep him occupied and because he wants to. I really don’t know how else to describe this one lol. He bought a pony. Made of diamonds. Because he could.

Gambling: won some of the things on his trophy shelf through poker and owns an entire casino. Hunting the Vaults themselves were a huge gamble too, especially the first two, since he wasn’t truly sure that they existed. He was prepared to sacrifice a lot in order to come out on top in both his career and his social standing. All in all, he’s reckless.

Binge eating: he doesn’t even like pretzels, but still eats them because he’s either bored or stressed. Talks about food quite a bit in conversation, too, especially his cravings.

Substance abuse: admits to being high on uppers for the duration of the pre sequel (and his time on Elpis as a whole) and tells further anecdotes about drugs and getting high in tftbl.

Promiscuity/unsafe sex: nothing about having sex with Nisha is safe lol. But in all seriousness, there’s no way to prove this one. He does strike me as the reckless sex sort though. No proof, just 7 years of knowing him as a character.

Emotional instability

Inappropriate trigger response: he strangles a man to death for simply mentioning his wife, stabs Lilith for talking about Angel, and tries to kill Rhys for not being sure about his grand plan (more on this later). His response to triggers is disproportionate, often resulting in extreme anger over small things that don’t warrant that intense of a reaction. He gets big angry about almost everything; there’s no middle ground. His reaction is never really ��you’re annoying me a lot” or “don’t talk about that, I don’t like it.” His reaction to almost everything is “oh my god I will murder your first born child how dare you-”

Quickly changing mood: aside from being prone to fits of rage at the flick of a switch, Jack also flicks back to “normal” pretty quickly, too. He flips between telling you to kill yourself after surviving the train and then talks casually about his day. He’ll be filled with rage after Angel’s death and then suddenly he’s laughing about you jumping into lava and having fun tricking you into visiting his grandmother. He can be intensely angry or sorrowful one moment and then nonchalant and sociable the next. His moods don’t last very long.

Idolisation/devaluation

Jack does this with numerous people across the games, but the two shining examples are Moxxi and Rhys; Rhys being the most notable. He idolises Moxxi, complimenting her on how attractive she is and how smart she is and including her in his circle of close friends/teammates. Then the inevitable happens and she lets him down and he instantly changes his opinion on her as if he’d never thought she was good to begin with. The same happens with Rhys. Throughout tftbl, Jack is best friends with Rhys and seems to form a one-sided connection with him where he idolises him and thinks they’re going to be best friends for ever and that they’re the perfect team. You cannot make him mad at you in tftbl (trust me, I’ve tried). He’s encouraging to Rhys the whole way through, like they’re brothers. Then the second Rhys displays doubts about something Jack is passionate about, Jack reacts violently and completely devalues Rhys, claiming him to be his mortal enemy and trying to kill him. People with BPD do this often. They have strong convictions and have a tendency to feel betrayed by people who go against those convictions. Jack does this regularly and it leads to the breakup of a lot of his relationships.

Paranoia

He vented a room full of scientists into space, just in case. I mean, that pretty much sums it up, really. Jack is under a lot of stress at this point in the game and stress-induced paranoia is a particularly difficult symptom of BPD. With him already feeling the pressure, the mention of a possible mole is a huge trigger for Jack. Especially since he’s reeling from the recent betrayal from a friend. His brain is already working over time, planting uneasy feelings of distrust and being unsafe. So when he’s presented with the idea from an outside source, he runs with it. Betrayal goes on to become a big button to push in Jack’s life to the extent that he actively betrays people before they get a chance to betray him (ie; killing Wilhelm). Paranoia feeds into a lot of Jack’s bad decisions, particularly in the pre sequel era.

Delusion

Jack wasn’t lying when he told us that he’s the hero. He absolutely was not the hero at all, but he wasn’t lying about it. Because lying about something implies that you know it’s not true, and Jack genuinely believes he’s a good person. The best person, in fact. It’s not a lie because in his mind, it’s the god given truth. He’s massively delusional, even before the events of the pre sequel. He’ll spout all the cheesy 80s movie lines about saving the moon and being the hero and he thinks he’s the protagonist of his own big adventure. We know that’s not what’s happening, but Jack doesn’t see it that way. Another delusion is the idea he has about how much everyone loves him. He thinks Moxxi is obsessed with him and he thinks Angel is being forced to work against him. He cannot conceive of a world in which people don’t like him or agree with him. Because why wouldn’t they agree with him? He’s the hero. Everybody loves the hero...

Intense but unstable relationships

Moxxi, Angel, Lilith, the Vault Hunter; I could go on. Jack’s relationships with people are volatile and rocky, even when they’re seemingly on the same side like with Moxxi or even Nisha (who he forms a tight bond with very quickly). People with BPD feel all emotions intensely, which causes a roller coaster. Jack really likes Moxxi, but then he doesn’t want to talk to her, but then he wants her on the team, but then he gets mad at her for calling him a pet name and beign friendly, and then he’s telling her she’s sexy, and then he’s cursing her, and then he’s hanging pictures of her in his casino. It’s the same with Angel - he subjects her to physical torture, then he loves her, then he’s mad at her for helping the Vault Hunter, then he’s doting on her, then he’s manipulating her, then he’s grieving for her. Everything is a whirlwind.

Distorted self-image

Oh boy. Jack has this physically and mentally. Mentally in the sense that he thinks he’s a good person when he actions are abhorrent and also because he’s massively insecure. BPD often comes with a lack of identity, which causes insecurity to begin with. Throw that in a pot alongside some childhood abuse, betrayal, work place bullying, and grief, and you got yourself a big pot of insecurity soup. Put plainly, Jack doesn’t really know who he is at his baseline. His personality and interests and ideas and needs all change on an hourly basis. He morphs to suit his circumstances. He can be open, honest and down to earth when he’s trying to trick Rhys. He can be full of worry and desperation when he needs you to head to grandma’s house. He can be cunning and clever when he’s tricking you into killing Wilhelm. He can be fatherly, he can be nasty, he can be torturous, he can be laid back, he can be clever, he can be ignorant, he can be sheepish, he can be cocky. He’s everyone and no one all at once and this probably leaves him feeling very hollow and empty; which is another symptom of BPD. In the physical sense, Jack issues with self image are pretty clear. He wears a face over his face to hide his face. Yup. And he does this because he thinks he’s disgracefully ugly. This scar he’s so vehemently protective of is something that defines his whole persona going forward. He literally claims himself as Handsome Jack, forcing people to adhere to the idea that he’s so attractive that it should be his title. Even though he doesn’t feel that way and does everything he can to hide the real him. He thinks he’s hideous and he struggles between loving himself and hating himself because of it.

Fear of abandonment

Aaaand here we are at the crux of the problem. BPD boils down to the intense fear of abandonment and this is probably what guides Jack for most of his life. His father died, his mother literally abandoned him, his grandmother neglected him, his first wife died, second wife left, girlfriend and friends betrayed him, and daughter killed herself to get away from him. Abandonment is practically coded into Jack’s DNA at this point and every time it happens, it confirms his fears more. He clings to Moxxi after she betrays him - taking her ideas to try and rile her up and even going as far as to recreate her entire bar in his casino because he wants to keep her presence around. He fights tooth and claw against Angel’s rebellion, begging both her and you to stop what you’re doing and leave. The only time he begs you is when he’s facing perceived abandonment, that’s how strong the fear is. His final words to Angel are “I’ll still forgive you.” Jack isn’t a forgiving man by any stretch, but he’ll say anything he has to in order to prevent her from leaving him. He’ll stalk people, he’ll manipulate them, he’ll lie to them or keep them physically locked up - all to prevent them from abandoning him. The worst possible thing that could happen to Jack is that, and we see the spiral he slips into after Angel. After Moxxi. After the Meriff. After his wife. He can’t bare the thought of someone leaving him and he’ll do anything and everything to prevent his fears becoming a reality.

So yeah! There it is, I finally got around to posting it lol. There’s probably a lot more little details that I’ve forgotten, but I cannot think of them right now. I’ll probably update if I think of any more! The tl;dr is that almost all of Jack’s behaviour can be linked to massively untreated BPD. He needed meds and therapy, but he didn’t get them and he spiralled as a result.

[cappymightwrite]

With so much shared parallels and imagery, do you think we will get Jonsa in TWOW or ADOS ? I mean full blown feelings like the one in the parentage reveal fic of yours ( Btw ❤️ that fic). It obviously doesn't have to be exact.

Haha, thank you for the compliment! I can never be 100% sure...but I think we’ll definitely get the beginnings of Jonsa in Winds, because I think when they inevitably meet it is going to be pretty significant for several reasons, even for non-shipper readers:

They will be the first Starks to reunite, so that is, without a doubt, going to carry emotional weight for the characters, as well as the reader — For all that the show is beneath contemptable in its plot choices, having Sansa go north and having her reunite with Jon feels faithful to the direction she’s heading in, bookwise. 

 Reuniting with Jon coincides with Sansa’s journey north, her journey home — That, again, is very emotionally weighted, tinged with relief and joy, but also sorrow for a past, a version of home, that can never truly be recovered. That is very bittersweet, heartswelling but also heartbreaking. 

It will coincide with, or follow, Jon’s resurrection, his rebirth and return to himself after a violent, traumatising death — To quote The Princess Bride, we all know that Jon is “only mostly dead”, having almost certainly warged into Ghost, but we don’t know how he will be revived, or how he’ll behave when he comes back. But the trauma of his murder (not just death, murder), the trauma of having confined yourself to the body of a wolf lest you die for real, on top of the trauma of having to come back into that murdered body...it’s going to be heavy, to say the least, and Sansa is going to be around to witness that struggle towards recovery, if not aid it.

All the above will, I believe, come across quite strongly on the page, those factors will very much be at the forefront of that reunion, and will be obvious in their significance to the reader. Even, if say, Sansa arrives before Jon returns to his own body, that won’t hinder the emotional power of her arrival at (most likely, though not definitely) Castle Black, it will just extend it to include three poignant, separate but connected, moments: (1) her return north, (2) the first Starks to reunite, (3) Jon’s resurrection. Their individual chapters, without a doubt, will be incredibly emotive, and with that emotive power fuelling them, PLUS all that foreshadowing, all those implicit parallels...well, buckle up kids, we’re going to be heading down a one-way track towards Jonsa town. 

That first meeting is going to be so so sooooo loaded, so narratively, thematically, and emotionally significant, and it will inform all the interactions they have after that, even discounting the possibility of romance...but of course, the possibility of romance is heavily foreshadowed. So, I suppose with that force behind them, GRRM may choose to ride that emotional wave and start picking up the pace, establishing a close bond between them that straddles what is appropriate behaviour between “half-siblings”, facilitated by these factors:

The desire for trust, for familiarity, after betrayal/uncertainty/abuse;

The lack of a strong sibling dynamic/bond between them, or any established dynamic at all really;

A mutual, and deep desire for kindness, acceptance of self, and love, which could lead to a confusion between the familial/platonic + romantic;

The lingering trauma of having had to be someone else for an extended period of time — for Sansa, as Alayne Stone, and more confusing still, with Jon as Ghost. 

Just going back to their reunion, I think there’s a reason why the Jon and Sansa reunion in the show felt so emotionally powerful, despite never having seen these two interact, or really reference each other on screen. E.g. there was no, to my knowledge, because I stopped fully watching due to s5, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa”, or “Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again”, or anything that really foreshadowed them meeting again on an emotional level. Nevertheless, their reunion is arguably the most emotionally satisfying moment of the entire show, a moment that isn’t fuelled by vengence or one upping someone, instead it is fuelled by love. 

Indeed, no matter the overall grimdark, frankly punishing message GoT tried so hard to push to appear edgy and unpredicatable, the moments that most resonate, that are most satisfying to watch, were actually the ones with real love behind them. Just imagine what it will be like in the book...

I mean, she’s a religious fanatic who we aren’t meant to fully trust, yet Melisandre does kind of have the right of it here:

"The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you." – ADWD, Jon VI

Not to get too Frankie Goes to Hollywood here, but the power of love is...well, it is powerful stuff! We shouldn’t shake our heads, nor roll our eyes dismissively (not that Jonsas do), when Sansa thinks to herself: 

There are gods, she told herself, and there are true knights too. All the stories can't be lies. – ACOK, Sansa IV

If love is a lie, if a belief in love is a sign of idiocy, if all we are meant for is to be born, betray or be betrayed, not trust anyone, suffer, then die...what is the point? Life isn’t a bed of roses, but likewise, it is completely devoid of roses either. What everyone is experiencing right now in the books is the very very VERY bitter, we haven’t yet got to the sweet, and it has to be some significant sweetness, I think, it has to restore some faith in humanity, to even just slightly alleviate all that pain and relentless loss. Because otherwise, what is the point? Not just in life, but narratively too. 

Yes, maybe things will continue to go pear shaped for the Starks, maybe Jon and Sansa will never find the love, the sense of home, and acceptance they truly crave, maybe GRRM’s philosophy is that real and lasting love is ultimately an unachievable goal. Maybe...but we don’t know for certain, do we? 

"[...] That was when Stark said, ‘In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true…but what if we prevail?’ My father sent him on his way with his head still on his shoulders. ‘If you lose,’ he told Lord Eddard, ‘you were never here.’" – ADWD, Davos I

I think this is such a key quote, and a far more realistic philosophy for life, spoken and believed in by none other than Eddard Stark. So yes, it is possible that these two statements, for example, will prove to be accurate:

 No one will ever marry me for love. – ASOS, Sansa VI

You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be the Lord of Winterfell. – ASOS, Jon XII

But...what if they aren’t? What if Sansa does marry for love? What if Jon does become Lord of Winterfell (or KiTN to S’s Q)? What if Jonsa does happen in Winds? What if we prevail? What if love prevails? Arguably, the first step towards this will be Jon and Sansa reuniting, because it will prove this assurance to be false:

Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. But of course that could never be. – AFFC, Alayne II

Back to your question though, coz I got a bit carried away there philosophising! Do I think we’ll get mutually acknowledged and acted upon Jonsa in Winds or Dream? I mean...if not in Winds, then in Dream, yes. I think it will depend on the parentage reveal and when GRRM chooses for Jon to become aware of it and what he chooses to do with that information. In my fic, I played around with Jon experiencing grief and anger over this revelation, because:

It essentially confirms his greatest hang-up, that “he had never truly been a Stark, only Lord Eddard's motherless bastard, with no more place at Winterfell than Theon Greyjoy,” (ASOS, Jon III). But worsened by the added pain of also not being Ned’s son. It’s an identity crisis in waiting.

It completely dispells any glimmer of hope Jon might have had that his mother was alive, living somewhere far away, yet loving him. Again, it confirms a hang-up — that he truly is motherless. Lyanna is dead. 

He was lied to, ostensibly for his own good, his whole life by the man he admired most, even when he was set to dedicate his life to a glorified penal colony. Even if it was done to protect him, that must still hurt. 

But I also played around with him feeling a twisted sense of relief, and then guilt at feeling that relief. This would rest on whether or not he has developed romantic feelings for Sansa prior to this revelation, which because of the above factors, I think is likely. If that is the case, then his dragonblood both saves him and damns him, because:

 On one level, the truth of them being cousins alleviates his shame, it makes a union between them legally and culturally possible. 

 On the other, however, the fact that he did believe himself to be attracted to her whilst she was still seemingly his half-sister makes him far closer to a Targaryen than I’m sure he’d like. 

It just makes the reveal so much more fraught and emotionally weighted, so much more narratively meaningful, if these are the kind of emotions at play. So, yes, love can prevail, but sometimes not without difficulty, not without adversity. It’s not wholly good, but nor is it wholly bad either, and ultimately it’s which side you choose to lean into that matters in the end. Jon could let shame, guilt, anger and grief rule him...but what if he doesn’t? 

In my fic, because I was writing it over two chapters — the second being requested in the comments because I made ch. 1 end too angsty, lol — I probably resolved things between them faster than might be realistic. It’s one thing to consider the circumstances in which Jon will discover his true parentage, it is another to consider when Sansa will. There might be some time between Jon’s discovery and Sansa’s, and then some time before we come to a mutual understanding between the two. 

But as I said, I think the set up for there being a blurring between the platonic/familial and romantic is solid, but as Jon is the more “romantically” experienced of the two, I see him realising the true significance of that blurring a bit sooner. Both are adept at concealment, but I think it’s notable that we’ve seen Jon being continuously offered not quite romance, with two separate women, in fact. But both are thwarted by circumstance and the character of the person involved. 

In Ygritte’s case:

Her behaviour was coercive, she pressured Jon into a sexual relationship;

For all her winning smiles and husky singing, Ygritte is a remorseless killer, a facet of her personality that Jon cannot rationalise, nor condone. She is also notably violent and aggressive towards Jon;

Any continuation of their “romance” is ended with her death. 

With Val:

Again, we have this ease with violence that does not sit well with Jon;

She is also “a stranger to him”, there is no depth of feeling there, no love;

To marry her would be to allow the burning of Winterfell’s godswood, and it would be stealing the rightful inheritance from Sansa, thus confirming all Catelyn Stark’s worst fears about usurping bastards. It would not be honourable. 

The above don’t represent real, fulfilling love. They wouldn’t give him what he truly wants, which is the love of a lady, the lordship of Winterful, all without the burden of shame. We see that buried romantic desire projected first onto Ygritte:

If I could show her Winterfell...give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us.

The dream was sweet...but Winterfell would never be his to show. It belonged to his brother, the King in the North. He was a Snow, not a Stark. Bastard, oathbreaker, and turncloak... – ASOS, Jon V

And then again with Val: 

[...] marry Val, and become the Lord of Winterfell? It seemed an easy choice when he thought of it in those terms...though if Ygritte had still been alive, it might have been even easier. Val was a stranger to him. She was not hard on the eyes, certainly, and she had been sister to Mance Rayder's queen, but still...

I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We'd find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. – ASOS, Jon XII

I think Jon is more attuned, having been through the above, to what it is he desires romantically, because he’s been offered chances, but they’ve been ultimately lacking (whereas Sansa will not be). Sansa, on the other hand, has been presented with...not even chances at love, because they’ve been forced upon her and are all awful, or at the very least pretty subpar. I just think she’s had such an awful time of it that just Jon being a safe, trusted, loving presence will be a big deal for her, but she won’t necessarily cotton on to the romantic desire that will be simmering beneath that. But Jon will. 

Looking at their previous brushes with “love”, both their arcs, I am convinced, have been preparing them for...well, for true love. For love and Winterfell. For family and for home. For something meaningful and momentus, because afterall:

This is true love, you think this happens everyday? – The Princess Bride (1987)

Because you know, lines like this:

Can coexist with lines like this:

They can even be spoken by and, with equal measure, be believed in by the same character. Because life, and love, is contradictory like that. And equally, just as GRRM can be writing murders, assaults, and war crimes, left, right, and centre...he can also be a fan of The Princess Bride:

But I’m getting off topic again! I just can’t stop philosophising about love! Basically, in Winds, I think "full blown feelings” will depend on when, and probably how, Sansa finds out about Jon’s parentage, then how she responds. I can see the reveal being a catalyst for her consciously acknowledging her love for him — I think Jon will have realised this beforehand, resulting in all the mixed emotions I discussed previously. But is Sansa going to find out from the horse’s mouth, or through another source? In what context will she find out, how will she be feeling at this time, will she suppress her feelings for a bit, unsure whether he returns them? If it’s from another source, it could be politically motivated, i.e. this throws Robb’s will out the window, who do we want to inherit now? But if it comes from Jon? Well, that’s what I chose, because it’s more interesting to write...because it’s more emotionally loaded, especially if a love confession is thrown in there too, but those could equally be separate reveals. 

I guess the issue with drawing things out, prolonging Sansa’s discovery, prolonging their mutual understanding, even within Winds, let alone into Dream, is...well, the emotional momentum will already be getting interrupted by the book’s structure of multiple povs, working on differing timelines, and in differing places. With all that emotion, all that foreshadowing behind them, foreshadowing that has been building up across books, across narratives, across years...GRRM will want to make the most of that, but likewise, he won’t want to botch it. It will be a delicate balance of seeing the first shoots of those long ago planted seeds starting to finally come up, nurturing them, making the possibility of Jonsa more and more explicit, and then seeing those plants bear full blown romantic fruit. You don’t want to rush things, but likewise, you want to keep the tension high, and you don’t want to skimp on impact.

So...you know what, yeah, maybe we will get “full blown feelings” in Winds, but I think it’ll be near the end, I think it’ll act as a possible cliffhanger, leading us into the next book, leading us into A Dream of Spring. Thematically, narratively, that could work quite well, because even if they acknowledge their mutual feelings, there will probably still be several obstacles in their way, e.g. the marriage to Tyrion, the impending, or then happening, Westerosi Ragnarök, etc. 

The last thing I’ll say on this, coz I really have rambled on, is that I think the ball will be in Sansa’s court when it comes to making Jonsa happen. She’s been on the receiving end of so much unwanted, abusive attention, it would be a powerful thing for Jonsa to be her choice, e.g. if they kiss (come on, they gotta) it will be Sansa that makes the move, as a contrast to all those forced kisses. I mean, that’s what I chose to do in my fic, because it is a powerful act for both of them. For Sansa, it is finally giving her romantic agency, it is giving her choice, and for Jon, it is him being chosen, it is him receiving the message that he is worthy, worthy of a lady, of true love, of his dream girl, Sansa (and Jon has always wanted to be worthy). So why skimp on something that impactful? Why water that down? It would be inconceivable ;) 

(This is why I’m slow on answering some asks...coz I will ANSWER)

[hurting-fictional-people]

Betrayal story - part 4

Look, the story has a name (hopefully I’ll come up with a better one later)! And the characters do too!

Anyways, if someone hasn’t seen the picrews (it’s here if you want to), Whumpee is now Liam Beaumont, Caretaker is Chase Raymond and Whumper is Jonah Sharpe. If you have trouble remembering: Caretaker still starts with a C no I totally didn’t give him a name that starts with a C on purpose what are you talking about and I think you’ll get very different vibes from Liam and Jonah haha

CW: electric torture, forced to watch, whumpee held hostage, hurt no comfort (for now), restraints

tagging  @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot  @sunflower1000  @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove  @boxofsilence  @lionhxartx @sometouchofmadness @paleassprince

Part one here, continued from here

-

Twelve messages wait for Chase when he picks up his phone. All from Jonah, all demanding him to work quicker, to give in new information faster. He purses his lips and takes a deep breath, clutching the new drive he was given to fill. 

After so many betrayals, he should be used to the sting that comes along with lying and deceiving. He’s done it before, felt that guilt, drowned in it – and yet he can’t help but hesitate. Liam’s pale lips, creased brows, shallow breaths, sparkle to life in his mind, a painful reminder of what is at stake if he annoys Jonah too much. Right beside Liam’s face, though, are the ones of Chase’s team, his friends, his family, all trusting smiles and loving gazes he cannot ignore. It’s enough for him to type a message and turn off the phone.

Working on it, Chase sends and hopes it is enough to keep the man quiet for at least another day as he turns his computer on and starts erasing from the drive the most meaningful information he’s stolen.

-

When Jonah bursts into his room, Liam is almost happy to see him. Five days have passed since he’s woken up in a room instead of the cell, and all he’s had since then is loneliness and echoing silence. With the only human interaction he was given being the occasional visit from a nurse who gave him a clinical once-over and refused to so much as look him in the eye, it was no real surprise when his thoughts spiraled out of control, swirling around and sinking down between Chase’s inevitable and yet somehow unexpected betrayal, and his new status as a hostage. 

“Doing better?” Jonah asks, leaning against the doorframe. Liam’s heart pounds both in relief and terror at the sound of a voice that isn’t his own.

“Do you care?”

“Getting some rest got your tongue loose, I see.”

“Why are you keeping me here?” That’s the question that’s been eating him alive, disrupting his sleep, watering his fear into a blossoming flower of dread that grows and suffocates any hope that tries to bloom beside it. Each answer Liam’s imagined sounds worst than the last, but if there is truth in any of them, he has to know. To prepare. 

“We talked about this already, didn’t we?”

Jonah’s eyes are as cold as he remembers from their few encounters, but this time something lurking there whispers stories of anger and pain to come, and that alone is enough to raise goosebumps along his entire body. 

“What do you want to let me go?” What could he have to give a man who is already filthy rich, when Liam has nothing to offer but a cramped apartment and a lot of resentment?

“Nothing you can offer, lovely,” Jonah chuckles. “Fair try, though.”

But nothing about this is fair, in any possible way. “So you are just going to keep me here because you don’t like Chase? I have nothing to do with him, please just let me the fuck go and I won’t even tell anyone, you–“

“Liam, honey, let us clear something up. There is nothing you can do to convince me to let you go. All you can do is comply, and maybe I’ll be merciful if you do, but you are mine for the time being, and there is no one here to help you but me.”

Liam’s reply dies on his tongue, killed by the unrestricted horror the words wash him over with. It doesn’t sound real. Sounds like something he’d watch in a movie, read in a book, hear about on the news. To hear them directed at him and feel the pulsating response from the healing stab wound in his gut, makes him hold his breath and pray to just wake up from this nightmare. When did his life turn into this? Was it when he met Chase? Was it before? 

“Now that that’s out of the way, come on, we have somewhere to go today.”

Liam’s stomach drops to the ground, farther, falling and falling to the center of the Earth as he clenches the sheets in his fists and hisses, “Last time you said that, you locked me up until I got an infection.”

“Ha, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Jonah says, raising a brow. Liam doesn’t even blink at the grin playing on his lips. “Don’t worry, love, I don’t make the same mistake twice. We’re having a different kind of fun today. Up now, or I’ll call my men to do it for you.”

Gritting his teeth, Liam pushes the sheets away and slowly stands up, holding his side and fighting a groan, but on his feet without help.

They walk in silence, and neither Jonah nor the guards say anything about how slow he is, or how terribly pitiful he looks stumbling through the hallways. A thousand words speed through his brain, pleading to be heard, but he doesn’t voice any of his questions. Doesn’t think he’d get an answer if he did, anyway.

He is led into a nearly barren room, with only a camera over a tripod standing in front of a wooden chair. A wooden chair surrounded by restraints.

He takes a step back before his brain catches up with the movement, straight against a guards’ chest. Jonah giggles and tuts softly. 

Two men grab his arms and drag him to the chair, and the panic suddenly becomes so deep, so all-encompassing, it swallows down his fight. He is pushed down on the chair, the restraints are buckled around him until all Liam can move is his head, and all the while he just sits there, hyperventilating and near to tears, as still as a statue. Watching but never moving, terrified but frozen in place, petrified, and he hates himself for it, even if he knows the feeling should be directed at Jonah and Jonah alone.

“Well, I didn’t know you’d be so pliable, sweetheart,” Jonah mocks, setting the camera up. “I would’ve played with you sooner had I known.”

He parts his lips, but the words refuse to form. Fear envelops each of them before Liam can push them through gritted teeth, and all he does is stare at the guards surrounding him, at the cold stickers being placed on his arms, his shoulders, his hands. Liam shivers, but there’s no air current here.

“Why, why, why are you doing this?” he chokes out. He knows what’s about to happen, has seen it on television enough times to recognize the electrodes, the box placed next to the chair. 

“Because Chase pissed me off today,” he shrugs, and a red light blinks to life in front of the camera. Jonah walks toward him, stops in front of the chair, and smiles. Liam’s eyes are blown wide as he stares up at the man. “Has Chase ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?”

The weight on his stomach is so huge that Liam can’t even find energy enough to feel outraged.

Jonah pulls out a linen scarf from his pocket as the guards plug wires to each sticker and wiggles it in front of Liam’s face. “Here, I’d bite down on this if I were you.” When he fails to open his mouth, the man rolls his eyes and grabs his cheeks, squeezing so suddenly and cruelly his mouth opens without command and the scarf is shoved inside, making him gag. “Not that well behaved, huh. No problem, we have time to get you obeying.”

When the guards take a step away, Liam finds himself wishing they didn’t. 

“Smile at the camera, love,” Jonah says, stepping to the side so Liam is the only one being recorded. He stares straight at the lens and tries to draw in a deep breath.

He knows it is coming. He prepares for it. And then Jonah flips a switch, and there’s no preparing for pain so big, for agony so deep.

The world shatters around him as electricity lights up his body, turns him inside out, upside down, and no breath could’ve ever made this any better. There’s no air to breathe, no room to writhe, no place to escape. There is only pain, boundless and searing, here and now, splitting him into thousands of shards he can never hope to piece back together.

And then it stops, and his throat is raw but he doesn’t remember screaming and his chest heaves as he fights for air and tears fall from his eyes to his chin to his chest but he doesn’t remember crying either.

“Beautiful,” Jonah sighs somewhere close. Liam coughs and chokes on his own tears, trying to beg or maybe cry out, but whatever his mouth forms gets caught on the gag before it reaches anyone’s ears.

Please please please stop, it hurts, hurts so much, so, so much, please, please–

“Let’s go again.”

Liam doesn’t have time to even be scared before his world dissolves into burning agony once more. All he can do is scream and silently plead for help he knows isn’t coming.

-

When Chase turns on the phone, his heart nearly stops at the video awaiting him.

Two hours have passed. After five days of trying to convince that despicable man to let him see Liam and failing miserably, barely sleeping, worry and guilt eating at his insides, he fell asleep. He forgot. For one hundred and twenty minutes he allowed himself to rest, and now he is paid with Liam’s frozen image staring at him, waiting on Jonah’s chat, along with one single line of text that chills him to the bone.

This is for turning off the phone.

He clicks and feels a chasm opening in his gut when Liam fills the screen, strapped to a chair, scared eyes darting around a room Chase can’t see through the video, searching for an escape that is nowhere to be found, stopping on each electrode that is stuck to his body. The fear is clear as crystal on his face. It makes Chase’s heart squeeze until his chest is so tight he places a hand there, afraid to find it as hollow as he feels. Liam doesn’t talk, doesn’t scream, doesn’t beg. He simply blinks at the men towering over him and doesn’t ask for help, and that might be what truly undoes Chase.

And then Jonah turns on the switch, and Liam’s head snaps back, body contorting against restraints so tight there’s no room for him the thrash. Even through the gag, he screams, and Chase would scream as well if he wasn’t too busy gripping the phone as if his life depended on it, trying to steady his trembling hands.

When the shock stops, Liam’s face is tear-stained and exhausted, sobs wracking his body and ripping apart Chase’s soul. 

His fault.

It is his fault. After everything, after betraying Liam into not trusting anyone, after losing the boy who might’ve been the love of his life, after being responsible for his stabbing, his kidnapping, after everything–

The switch is turned on again, and this time when Liam screams, Chase’s eyes well up with tears he has no right to cry. A kind of rotten helplessness takes over his body, its clawed fingers wrapping around his arms, his legs, his heart and squeezing, whispering and shouting his failure, his guilt, his powerlessness. His eyes plead to close, but he needs to see this. It is his fault, his burden, and if Liam was forced through it, he has to at least watch it to the end. If anything, to know he’s still alive.

It lasts longer the second time. A life. His useless life. Liam convulses and cries and howls, and if Chase could only take the pain to himself, he would. He would switch places with Liam in the blink of an eye. He is the one who deserves that pain. He is the one who betrays and hurts and destroys anything he touches, and it should be him, not the boy who smiles at the sunrise and cries over books and dreams about changing the world. 

He stares unblinking at the screen and watches in silence as electricity courses again and again through that body he had once held and thought about spending a life beside, fogging those eyes that used to engulf him in love, twisting that face he once kissed and touched and loved into one of raw despair. Each time it stops, neither of them has time to catch their breath before it starts again. After the third time, Liam doesn’t cry out anymore. His voice breaks in a ragged wail until it dies down and all that’s left are silent sobs.

When the video ends, Chase is nearly numb. The last image shows Liam’s head hanging forward as he struggles to breathe, Jonah’s fingers casually carding through his sweaty hair.

Chase is out of his house before his brain even processes what he’s doing, inside his car, driving to Jonah’s building in a blur of hatred and desperation. When he parks in front of the tower, the phone buzzes and he doesn’t hesitate to read it. Not anymore. Never again.

You lost visit privileges. Leave the drive with the guard at the door and keep in touch. 

With Liam’s screams still ringing inside his mind, forever trapped there, he doesn’t dare do anything other than what he is told. He gives the guard the flash drive, and for the first time in years, he prays. Because if anyone notices the most important files missing… he can’t bear the thought of what could be done to Liam in retribution. 

(next)

[wordstro]

[9:47 AM] + hero/villain au + "you should sleep well knowing that no matter what you do, i will never kill you." + part 5

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 masterlist

-

you are not caught in your lie.

you expected eunwoo to notice the half-water, half-serum mixture. you sat with your knees pressed to your chest for hours, waiting for the inevitable moment of wooyoung bursting through your doors and making his warning a reality. the cruel part of your brain flit through all the things he would do to you, from burning you to leaving you in eunwoo's clutches, alone in a cold metal lab with a mad scientist with a penchant for experimentation and no qualms with hurting you. in fact, eunwoo liked to laugh when you winced in pain. he only stopped when wooyoung started staying with you during your serum shots. maybe wooyoung would lock you up like a true prisoner. maybe he would shoot you up with so much serum you'd disappear completely.

still, you almost wish wooyoung was angry when he stepped into your room later. instead he knelt in front of you and changed your bandages with a gentle touch that still made you feel something, and you despised yourself for it.

wooyoung looked at you that night with the same kindness he would from Before, nights when it was late and he walked you to your apartment door, his eyes carrying the stars as he smiled at you, or when you were drunk and he let you hold his hand tight as your group stumbled from dinner, or when you were sick and he arrived at your apartment alone with all the ingredients for soup and a you look like shit dripping from his lips.

he reached up and cupped your cheek, and he whispered, "when this is all over, i'll let you have your revenge. i'll let you do whatever you want to me. you can kill me, even."

you blinked at him, searching his eyes for even a fraction of his thoughts, but his face remained unreadable, "do you think this will end? at the rate we're going, do you think i'll be around to see it?"

he looked you in the eye, determined as his warm grip tightened on your jaw. the unreadable expression slipped, giving way to guilt and longing and a sort of sadness that hooked around your heart and yanked at it. yet, there is no regret there. there never will be, you know. wooyoung always did as he said. always. he said, "i know my promises mean nothing to you, but i give you my word, y/n, that you will not die under my care. not by my hand. you will live. you will see this through to the end. i will never let you disappear."

"but," you took a deep, steadying breath as you whispered, "what if i want to disappear? what if i don't want to see this through to the end?"

wooyoung's eyes blazed and heat radiated from him. you watched him work to keep his voice quiet, to remain soft. he said, "i won't let it happen. i promised hong - i made a promise when i first met you that i would not let you die. i'm keeping that promise. it's selfish, i know, but this is the only selfish thing i'll allow myself. everything else - it's for the greater good. i do it because i need to succeed. but this," wooyoung looked at you with a kindness that set you back a thousand days, back to Before, "is for me."

you remembered his promise, when hongjoong finally let you join the alliance and your first week you were all faced with a real mission, one that wasn't orchestrated by the alliance or the government to boost public morale. real villains creeping underground and causing havoc had just started to take root then. wooyoung's smile was toothy as he threw an arm over your shoulders, leaning into you, and said don't worry, joong, i never let cute little rookies die under my watch. ask san. all they have to do is trust me and i'll take care of the rest. it was a joke, one that had hongjoong narrowing his eyes, protective hand still pressed to your elbow, and seonghwa groaning as he asked wooyoung to be serious for once, but over the years, wooyoung kept his word. he never even laid a finger on you, not even during training matches at the alliance headquarters. not until the betrayal, at least.

"you've hurt me, though. time and time again."

the guilt was there, in his eyes, but he kept it contained. he dropped his hand from your face, glancing at your bandaged hands, and he whispered, so quietly you would not have heard it if you were not listening intently for his response. "i had to."

"so, that's it?" you reached out then, pressing your bandaged hand to his chin, pushing it up so he'd look you in the eyes, "you'll hurt me. for the greater good. but you won't let me die? that's all you'll give yourself? give me?"

his eyes searched yours for a long, long moment, before he reached up and pulled your hand from his chin. he placed it carefully on your lap as he stood. he loomed over you, the kindness, the gentleness, the wooyoung from Before gone. "it's the only thing i'll allow myself to be selfish with. you should sleep well knowing that no matter what you do, i will never kill you."

it's another warning, another threat, thinly veiled, but it still brings you a tiny bit of relief. still the relief is dashed by the underlying meaning. he won't kill you, but he'd hurt you to keep you in line. as he had this entire time. that this existence, of doing horrible things for his cause, will never stop. that he will do whatever it takes to succeed in his goals and you will be there every step of the way. it's fucked up. he knows it. you know it.

"get some rest. we have a long week ahead of us." he'd said before he left your room.

~.~.~.~.~

seonghwa watches you eat, leaning against the counter, yeosang hovering aimlessly in the kitchen behind seonghwa. jongho's shoulder brushes your shoulder whenever he leans close. the touch is admittedly comforting, taking away from the discomfort seonghwa's watchful gaze brings you.

"what?" you finally snap, looking up at him. you let your voice rise, since wooyoung isn't here.

seonghwa frowns, "you haven't eaten since yesterday."

"who would want to? after..." you trail off, biting your tongue, your eyes flickering to wooyoung's closed bedroom door.

"you brought that on yourself." seonghwa sighs, "you had to know you were going to get caught. why can't you..."

he lets out a frustrated groan, dragging a hand through his hair.

you blink at him, incredulous. you force yourself to keep your voice down as you say, "do you want me to stop fighting back? you want me to sit back and do as i'm told?" you jab a finger in yeosang's direction, "then make me. tell yeosang to make me."

"y/n." seonghwa stands up straight, looking you dead in the eyes, his tone soft, kind. too kind. it digs into your chest and tears at your resolve, at the walls you've spent this entire time building between you and them. you've been trying to keep them out, ignoring the way seonghwa angled himself between eunwoo and you when eunwoo alluded to experimenting on you, his metal arm glinting, ignoring the way yeosang gave you little reprieves here and there, your favorites from the pastry shop, reruns of your favorite movies and tv shows stocked in the living room, ignoring the way jongho always hovered and spent time with you, sitting in silence. you ignored the little things because if you let yourself dwell in it, then you'd grow attached again. you'd remember just how much you've missed them.

"do it!" your voice echoes throughout the room, "make me listen. make me think we're the happy fucking family you're pretending we are. make me!"

your eyes drift to yeosang, and for once he does not look away. he holds your gaze. unrelenting, unwavering.

a sob catches at your throat and your nails dig into your palms as you plead, "make me stop fighting back because i'm tired of it. please just..." your chest heaves, and your voice drops to a whisper, a plead where all your walls are gone, "make this stop."

seonghwa nods and nods and nods, and his eyes are glassy and his touch is cold. he kneels before you, at eye level, and he keeps nodding. his gaze is too fucking kind, as he whispers, "i'll talk to him. i'll ask him to let up on you. i know that's not enough, and i'm sorry, y/n. i am so sorry."

you wonder why he isn't sorry enough to let you go, but you don't say that. wooyoung is in the other room. seonghwa is gripping you in his cold hands, with tears in his eyes, and he's making you promises. you're suppressing your sobs, but they still spill from your lips, broken and tired and long, long overdue.

jongho's hand is on your back, rubbing up and down, a comforting weight.

"i won't let him hurt you again, okay?" seonghwa holds your head in his hands, dipping his head to meet your gaze full-on. you want to ask why he hadn't promised this earlier, but you don't. you know not to bite the hand that feeds you, no matter how minimal the food is.

you nod and he nods, before pressing your face to the crook of his neck. you look over his shoulder, meeting yeosang's gaze, his furrowed brows and frown. he looks at you as if he is making a decision. you're afraid, almost, of what that decision is.

~.~.~.~.~

you walk in silence beside yeosang, wooyoung leading the way through the winding underground halls.

wooyoung pauses at a fork, glancing over his shoulder. his gaze lingers on you for a long moment, before he looks at yeosang. he says, "yoojung needs to discuss some logistics for tonight. you know where the lab is?"

yeosang rolls his eyes, "why wouldn't i?"

wooyoung shrugs, "you're bad with directions."

you can't help but snort. you can personally attest to just how bad yeosang is with directions.

"not my fault these halls are constantly changing, " yeosang pouts, earning a small fond smile from wooyoung.

wooyoung glances at you, still smiling, but then he addresses yeosang, growing uncharacteristically serious. it's ironic, that he's finally learned to be serious after joining a villain organization. "sit with them during the shot. make sure eunwoo doesn't try anything funny."

then he swivels on his heels and disappears towards the left, not looking back at you once, his footsteps fading. you would be lying if you said you didn't feel anything at his words.

you look at yeosang. he's watching wooyoung walk away, his brows still furrowed. then he gestures for you to follow him, stepping into the right corridor.

after a few minutes of walking, yeosang takes another right.

you run into yeosang's back, stumbling back as he turns. he looks down at you, and his eyes are full of an emotion you cannot quite place.

yeosang says, "when i was a little boy, i accidentally sent my parents away. then, i told a boy to jump off a bridge. when i met wooyoung...he helped me. he made me want to live again. i swore to him that i would follow him to the ends of the earth. i would walk through hell itself if he asked me to."

"what -"

"then i joined the alliance," yeosang takes a deep, staggering breath, his eyes filled to the brim with a million emotions. grief, concern, fear. "and i swore i would do anything for them too. for you."

"yeosang, what did - what did you do?"

he sighs, "i knew you lied to us. about the serum. i switched it with a full one before handing it off to eunwoo."

you blink, "oh."

"and now i'm going to let you walk free."

you shake your head. you can't believe you are, but you do. you say, "no. they'll know it was you. you'll...what if wooyoung...?"

if wooyoung is willing to hurt you, then you're terrified of what he will do to yeosang for setting his weapon free. you're terrified for yeosang, despite everything, despite what he brought you into and his broken promises.

"the exit is right there, down the hall." he jabs a hand behind him, eyes piercing yours. your gaze follows his movement, and every nerve in your body screams at you to run. to take his offer.

"i can't leave knowing you'll be punished. i..." you blink, "you could come with me."

"i can't." yeosang laughs, a quiet musical thing, "i'm still going to follow wooyoung into hell. i have to keep him safe."

"you don't have to."

"who will protect him from himself if i don't?

"that's not fair to you!"

"it is. i owe him my life."

"yeosang -"

"i don't have time to argue this." yeosang grabs your arm, looks you dead in the eye, and he says, "i've made my decision, y/n, and you will follow it."

you see the look in his eyes. you know what he will do, because he still can't keep his promises. you bristle, struggling in his grip, "wait, no, yeosang, don't -"

yeosang shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is soft, compelling, his powers consuming you, "now it's time for you to go. go back to hongjoong, yunho, mingi, and san, and don't look back. keep walking until you reach them and do not look back once. forget all the things i told you to keep to yourself. tell them anything you want. when you walk out this door, you can use your powers against us without consequence. and," he pauses, and you can't say a word under the spell of his powers, "tell them that i'm sorry. tell them that i'm sorry for everything. i can't speak for seonghwa or jongho, but i know they are too. to an extent. y/n, tell san...just tell him especially. i know he hates me, but tell him." yeosang takes a deep breath, his grip tightening briefly around you arm before he lets go, "now, leave."

you blink as your legs move on their own accord. you get one last look at kang yeosang, long dark hair to his shoulders, sharp features filled with love and anger and self doubt and grief, and he nods once before you turn away. you cannot look back, yeosang's powers moving you forward. as you walk out of the villain's base, you can't do anything but follow yeosang's orders. you despise him for it, for the lack of autonomy, but you keep your eyes ahead and you pray hongjoong, yunho, mingi, and san won't shoot you on sight.

[sapphic-sasuke]

So i was watching those fillers about kakashi’s anbu days and an question came to my mind Why did tachi directly choose to kill the clan instead of trying to warn their parents and/or the uchiha clan first did he think they were too prideful to back down or completely leave the village or maybe he didn’t trust his OWN family

I mean if i was in that kinda of a situation (or heck even in any kinda of situation) the first thing I would’ve done; go to mom dad warn them/ask them what should i do, what should ‘we’ do and cannonically speaking itachi was 13 at the time and fugaku really seemed to be the most reasonable person to go to(while other uchihas were unnecessary being harsh to civilians during taking them into custody fugaku was the one to warn them) so itachi either, A) was kinda of an idiot who didn’t really think things through (wich I don’t think so cause he was supposed to be a genius at the very least a very smart person) or B) he was so arrogant thet he thought (an exceptional 13yo kid A FUCKING CHILD) he might be more suited and experienced! to handle the coup instead of going to his parents and I know ppl say that he got manipulated n stuff but c’mon wasn’t he basically the king of manipulation I don’t understand how he couldn’t thought anything besides killing everyone, wouldn’t taking sasuke and running should’ve been an option to what do you think

Also sorry for the long ass ask and I just realized ur one of my favorite fics authors i hope u update looking for forgiveness soon didn’t read such a good fan fic in a while i like ur writing sm <3

HI!! don’t ever feel sorry for long asks i love reading long stuff . and AHHH WOW thank you so much i do plan to update my fic very soon. the chapters almost done but i had some rly funky writer’s block hope u like it <3

no ur so right anon the way itachi handled the massacre was so strange? and that’s why i like to headcanon that itachi had a really strained relationship with his parents (albeit slightly better with fugaku) where he never came to them with any of his emotions/problems growing up and internalised that until the massacre. i think the second option is more probable. we know he didn’t like most of the clan members and we even see him fighting some. what with all his achievements as a shinobi and his anbu status, itachi seems like the kind of person.

i think taking sasuke and running away would have halted the coup, with the clan heir and second son gone, however i am of the belief that the coup would have been inevitable. maybe due to strained relations or danzo’s machinations, konoha doesn’t help out much with trying to find itachi and sasuke and that increases tensions even further. we know that uchihas love fiercely and it could even lead to the clan more determined to go forward with the coup and then use further resources to find sasuke and itachi. it seems like a short term solution to marginalisation that’s been simmering for decades. it’s a far better alternative to him outright committing genocide however.

maybe itachi did think telling them he was being pressured into killing the clan would have gone badly. he’s very against the coup and has made this clear with his antagonistic actions after shisui’s death. i’m almost certain people in the clan didn’t trust him at all. he was definitely of the belief that more vocal members of the clan would use that as a further incentive to go ahead with the coup, even kill danzo and the elders. (danzo’s root however would be a major obstacle)

i think fugaku would have listened to itachi though. the uchiha coup is one that could be interpreted as a last ditch retaliation from a clan who were shoved to a corner. fugaku clearly loves the village—the coup was intended to be bloodless if it went according to plan. the elders wouldn’t even be aware of it if itachi stayed silent. (but i do think the other clans would not support an uchiha hokage because their reputation worsened after the kyuubi attack) and let’s be real, the elders were insanely corrupt. (but I am of the belief the corruption is only possible because of the shinobi system in place but then that’s a whoooole other topic) itachi’s spy status already puts him as a traitor to the clan which would be a huge betrayal for fugaku who believed in itachi when others didn’t. itachi would be disgraced by his people for even being considered as someone who would be asked to kill them, you know? in that sense, itachi must have seen everything as a lose-lose scenario and went with the option that wouldn’t hinder konoha that much and as such the “peace”

leaving the village is an interesting option. i feel like unless the uchiha clan find a secure place to hide (they do have those hideouts) that ultimately konoha is the safest bet for them at the moment but the possibility of even konoha being unsafe is very real with the threat of danzo. the fact that the elders even considered genocide shows the uchiha’s standing in konoha. hidden villages must have loads of safety measures in place to stop shit like kidnappings for bloodline limits (hinata’s kidnapping attempt was only possible to happen because of the treaty being signed) and state secrets, that i’m sure the uchiha clan have. in short, the uchiha are way too intergreted into the village’s foundations to simply leave without repercussions. it’s interesting because they aren’t actually intergreted into the village at all. i’m sure they don’t know that many actual secrets about the village. they aren’t trusted—tobirama mentions this. but if they ever decided to turn against konoha or join another village their insight into how konoha shinobi and clans work as previous comrades would be invaluable. essentially, the only way for the uchiha clan to survive if they decide to leave would be to go into hiding, really insane crazy genjutsu hiding (which i believe is possible with such a strong clan) in that case, then Yes, the uchiha clan leaving would work. but i think itachi’s of the belief that uchiha pride would prevent them from ever considering hiding. so i’m more inclined to agree with the second option B

the genocide just doesn’t fit with a child who supposedly loves his clan. you don’t kill a clan you love for the village. moral standing aside, solving peace with violence isn’t peace. how can he call himself a pacifist but then have so much faith in the system he’s willing to kill his own people for it? i’s stupidity. there’s so many inconsistencies to itachi’s character because if he really did all of this for sasuke then why torture him? that’s unnecessary mental damage. he could invoke hatred without torture. he’s stated to have the wisdom of a kage at 7 but then makes really stupid decisions that don’t fit in with his whole master manipulator like you mentioned. with all of this ive just come to the conclusion that itachi was probably originally intended to be an antagonist but shit Happened like a popularity jump or smth and suddenly the narrative’s calling him a hero lmao, way to go against the original anti establishment themes from part 1 naruto kishi u bum

this got long really fast omg im sorry? but i hope my insight helped in some way? (or not i tend to ramble a Looooot) anyways ty for the ask i could honestly talk about the uchiha clan all day

[pennylaneforthoughts]

Lokius Hogwarts AU

All right my dudes, hot take time:

I’ve seen a lot of Hogwarts AU headcanons floating around, and having thought waaaaaay too much about it, I’m here to add my two cents.

( @sortinghatchats has my favorite sorting system I’ve seen to date, since it goes so much in depth into themes throughout the HP series that good ol’ JK barely touches on in her pretty surface level commentary on the subject, so that’s the system I’m gonna use. Go to their blog to learn more about the way the system works bc I’m too lazy to go more in depth than I already have.)

This is gonna be Hella Long tho so I’m putting it under a cut.

Loki: Petrified Slytherin Primary/Slytherin Secondary - sorting: Slytherin House

Perhaps it may seem trite, but Loki really is a Slytherin Primary at heart. Yes he is ambitious and all that stereotypical stuff, but that’s not really what makes a Slytherin a Slytherin. Anyone can be ambitious. No, he’s a Slytherin because he unapologetically prioritizes himself and the people he cares about above all else. 

“Slytherin Primaries are fiercely loyal to the people they care for most. Slytherin is the place where “you’ll make your real friends”– they prioritize individual loyalties and find their moral core in protecting and caring for the people they are closest to. Slytherin’s reputation for ambition comes from the visibility of this promotion of the self and their important people– ambition is something you can find in all four Houses; Slytherin’s is just the one that looks most obviously selfish.”

However, Loki’s trauma has pushed him to something this system calls Petrifying.

“Whether through death, betrayal, abandonment (from either side), or through never having had any to begin with, the Petrified Slytherin has decided that having important people is too dangerous. Having those strong ties leaves you open to pain and weakness, and the pleasure of those connections aren’t worth the despair that comes from their seemingly inevitable loss. In this way, they close themselves off to meaningful connections out of what is ultimately fear (though from the inside, it’s far more likely to be experienced as a rational, sensible decision given the circumstances of the world), and gives them a stony exterior that seems impenetrable, resolute, and cold.” 

Loki wants love and acceptance so badly, but he is convinced that the kind of attachments and relationships that that comes from are far too dangerous and the risk isn’t worth the reward. He pushes people away, hides behind a mask of self-aggrandizement, and betrays others before they can betray him in an attempt to protect himself from potential pain.

In the series, however, we see him slowly unpetrify and move towards a more healthy style of attachment because of Mobius and Sylvie’s influence on him. Whereas his circle of priorities used to include only himself (and arguably Frigga and later, Thor, in the movie timeline), he proverbially “thaws” enough to let Mobius and Sylvie in, and tragically, because of that, the loss of them hurts him so deeply because by the end of season 1, they’re all he had.

His Slytherin Secondary, however, is obvious in his methodology. He’s the god of chaos. He loves improvisation, and plans only exist as long as another better idea doesn’t come along and usurp it. He’ll change and adapt (quite literally) to best fit the situation in front of him, and he takes joy in that. But beneath all the running and his many personas, he has his “neutral state” that he lets only a precious few see. Mobius gets to see it, and so does Sylvie, and as he progresses through the series, he starts to be more comfortable existing in that state where he’s no longer hiding behind everything he feels like the world expects him to be and he can just be himself. 

Mobius: Slytherin Primary (Hufflepuff Model)/Hufflepuff Secondary - sorting: Slytherin House

People like to put Mobius in Hufflepuff, but honestly? I don’t think that’s where he’d be most comfortable. Yes, he is kind and caring to basically everyone, and we see this over and over again in the series. The man radiates comfort. However, like it says in Inky and Kat’s description of the Slytherin Primary, 

“Wanting to help someone doesn’t mean you’re loyal to them. Wanting to help them at the expense of your comforts, your values, your commitments and sometimes even yourself–that does.”

Mobius is kind to a fault. But he is not kind at the expense of himself. Not to everyone at least. He is kind to the child in France, but he is not kind to the point of saving him from the resetting of the timeline, and he doesn’t feel guilty about that. He believes in a duty of care, but he does not believe he has any obligation to go beyond what he thinks that duty of care is. He unapologetically plays favorites, and this is mentioned on multiple occasions. Above all else, Mobius values loyalty as a virtue. Sure, he cares about the TVA and its accompanying morality, and he genuinely does believe it’s his duty to care about and be kind to others. He seems to vibe quite well with the Hufflepuff ideal of caring about people simply because they are people, but this is all secondary to his personal loyalties when push comes to shove. For Mobius,

“dropping that model in order to stand by someone you love, or in order to protect yourself, doesn’t feel like a failing. Sticking to that modelled morality at the expense of betraying or abandoning one of their own would make a Slytherin feel guilty and wrong. Being able to put the things and concepts you like aside for the sake of the people who need you feels more righteous than any moral posturing.”

It’s for this very reason that Mobius gets so angry and feels so betrayed when he thinks Loki has abandoned him for Sylvie, and when Ravonna lies to him and prunes him.

“Betraying your own is the worst kind of crime. Loyalty is precious and terrible; it makes you vulnerable. It’s given sparingly, deeply, and a Slytherin will stand by their loyalties through the same death and fire that a Gryffindor would brave for the sake of doing the right thing, or a Hufflepuff to help someone in need.”

Loki is Mobius’ own. Mobius prioritizes Loki over almost everything else, sticks his neck out for him over and over again, and is willing to sacrifice his own happiness for him. He’s even willing to abandon the whole of his former ideology and prior friendships for this relationship that has become closer to him than his own self, the highest tier of trust and loyalty a Slytherin can give.

“It’s an extreme Slytherin who would let the whole world burn for the sake of a friend, but every Slytherin Primary would be at the very least tempted.”

And Mobius very nearly does exactly that. Even says the words, “burn it to the ground” when Loki asks him what he’s going to do. And he doesn’t feel bad about it. Especially after realizing what the TVA has done to him and the people he cares about. He kicks the TVA out of his circle of care, and doesn’t look back. And he does it for Loki.

Mobius’ Secondary is where people get his Hufflepuff vibes from, I think. A Hufflepuff secondary is marked by “their consistency and the integrity of their method. They’re our hard workers. They build habits and systems for themselves and accomplish things by keeping at them. They have a steadiness that can make them the lynchpin (though not usually the leader) of a community.” And that is what Mobius is. It’s why he radiates that kindness and comfort. He quietly and carefully works at and invests in the relationships in his life to the point that people almost automatically trust him, and over time he has learned how to read people and figure out what makes them tick. 

He approaches new situations with a steady head and gentle hand that Loki is unused to, and it’s this approach that eases Loki into learning how to trust and rely on people. It’s an inherently Hufflepuff approach, and it’s the key to his success as an analyst for the TVA and an understanding friend for Lokis across the timelines.

Tl;dr - Application to an actual Hogwarts AU fic:

THEREFORE! There’s a compelling narrative to be had with a tiny, first-year Loki coming into Hogwarts. He comes from a pureblood family that’s very proud of their Gryffindor heritage (they don’t talk about Hela, and Loki and Thor don’t even know she exists until later in this story), and his brother had been sorted into Gryffindor a couple years prior, and Loki has heard very little other than contempt for Slytherin House and everyone in it. Loki doesn’t want to be sorted into Slytherin. He doesn’t want to deal with the disappointment and shame from his father and the sad eyes of his brother. But the sorting hat sorts him there almost immediately, and his heart sinks. He wanders over to the table miserably but determined. If he’s gonna be sorted into the “evil” house, might as well just run with it, right? Best not to get close to people though. It’s Slytherin. Who knows when someone will betray you.

Enter Mobius, the tiny muggleborn, bright eyed, bushy tailed, and having no clue about the prejudices between houses. The hat takes a hot minute sorting him, giving him the choice between Hufflepuff and Slytherin and telling him Hufflepuff would love a kindhearted and welcoming member like him. But Mobius has been eyeing the little black-haired kid who got sorted before him and is now sitting far apart from everyone, and he can’t help but feel like he needs to be this kid’s friend. And didn’t the hat just say Slytherin is where you’ll make your real friends? Friends are what Mobius cares about, so he’d like to go to Slytherin, thank you very much, so that’s where he goes, and he happily plunks himself down right next to Loki and sticks his hand out.

“I’m Mobius. What’s your name?”

 Loki looks at Mobius’ hand disdainfully and doesn’t shake it, but he does answer, “Loki.”

Mobius’ eyes go wide, and he smiles. “Loki? Like after the Norse god?”

Loki nods, eyeing Mobius suspiciously. People don’t often bat an eye at his name. Not in the wizarding world, anyway.

“Wow, that’s so cool! I loved reading about Norse mythology in school and Loki was always my favorite. Names have power, you know. If you’ve got the same name, then you must be just as awesome.”

Loki has no idea what to do with this kid, but he’s immediately aware of two things:

He’s absolutely sure that this Mobius kid is in the wrong house. No way a Slytherin can be this excited without a single hint of deception in his face.

He’s going to be eaten alive by the other students if Loki doesn’t protect him. What a pain.

Loki is completely wrong on both of these points.

[a-written-dream]

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1,788

Fandom: Merlin (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Characters: Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Future, Gen or Pre-Slash, Rebellion, Arthur Knows About Merlin’s Magic (Merlin), Cybernetics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Captivity, Identity Reveal, Evil Uther Pendragon (Merlin), Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, pretty canon-typical though, POV Merlin (Merlin), The Merlin Melee Challenge 2021, Fights, Rebel Leader Arthur

Summary: Because they had been captured and suddenly Arthur was no longer just Arthur, he was Arthur Pendragon, son of everything they fought against.

Or: In a world years into the future, Merlin and Arthur fight against the tyranny of Uther Pendragon with an entire rebellion by their side. But Arthur hasn’t been entirely honest and even locked up in a cell Merlin can’t help the burning feelings of betrayal and anger. - For @merlin-fic-server’s Melee Challenge. Prompts: ‘I wish I’d told you’, punk, coin & Russian Violet

The metal is cold against Merlin’s back and against the skin of his wrists, even though he’s been pressed against it for the better part of an hour. He wonders briefly if it’s on purpose, if they keep the cell so cold to inflict more distress and discomfort. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

A florescent light flickers above their heads, and the only sound in the small space is their breaths bouncing off the walls. There are dents in the door from where Arthur tried to break it down, but even with his strength the door didn’t budge, and with the power-dampening cuffs around Merlin’s wrists, Merlin’s magic is all but useless. Arthur kept trying for a formidable amount of time, but when his hand gave off a sickening crunch of metal, he screamed in frustration and punched the wall for good measure before sinking down onto the floor.

Metal scraps still litter the floor around Arthur’s legs where he’s sitting in the corner now, a long time later, the fight all but drained out of him, head in his hands. The silence is heavy and thick and awkward, tense with Merlin’s anger and confusion, with Arthur’s guilt and anxiety.

“I wish I’d told you-“

Arthur’s voice is quiet and yet it seems to echo and boom within the metal box they’re locked into. It startles Merlin out of the apathetic calm he’d been lulled into by the silence. They’re waiting for their inevitable executions, and yet the sound of Arthur’s voice makes a white hot feeling of betrayal course through him.

“What,” he interrupts, “that you were leading a rebellion against your father? Believe me, Arthur, I wish you had too,” he snaps.

Because they had been captured and suddenly Arthur was no longer just Arthur, he was Arthur Pendragon, son of everything they fought against.

Arthur winces in his corner, running his hands through his hair. “No, I-“

Merlin doesn’t let him finish, too angry to keep the words bubbling to the surface down any longer. “How could you keep this from me? From all of us?” Merlin has been by Arthur’s side for years, fighting with him, protecting him, supporting him, and yet Arthur’s kept something as monumental as this a secret. “How could you not tell me?” Why did you not trust me?

“Why?” Arthur snaps, finally looking up to meet Merlin’s gaze. His blue eyes flash with anger, and Merlin is sure his own dark purple ones are just as angry. In Merlin’s fury, they unhelpfully provide him with the weaknesses in Arthur’s protective plating, with information on just where to send a spark of electricity and magic to shut down Arthur’s entire power system and deal the most damage.

Merlin blinks the detailed blueprints away. He has them memorised, but even betrayed and angry and hurt, he would never do anything to harm Arthur.

“Does it matter?” Arthur continues, voice hard and cold and wounded. “Does it matter that he raised me? That I grew up trying to be loved by a tyrant? That it took me years to finally understand the extent of his atrocities and his crimes? It sure doesn’t make me blind to them, now.” There are tears in his eyes and guilt in his voice. “Sure doesn’t make me blind to the horrific things I’ve done in his name, done to people like-“ you, he doesn’t finish. Like Morgana, like Mordred. To people with the ability to infuse their tech with magic. “I hate him, Merlin, and I hate that I still love him, but nothing, nothing, could ever make me see past the things he’s done, the things he is still doing to his own people, to my people, to our people.” He grits his teeth and clenches his eyes shut, brow furrowed in a painful frown. When he opens his eyes and looks at Merlin again, he looks so very tired.

“I tried to kill him on sight, when I first understood, really understood. I screamed my throat raw as I condemned him from the cell he put me in, and then I decided that I would do everything in my power to make sure his rule comes to an end. I can’t continue to watch people suffer under his hands, no matter how much my wretched heart still aches for his love and approval. I can’t let him continue to slaughter innocent people simply because they exist in a way that doesn’t appease him or because they disagree with him, even if I can never atone for what I’ve done. I will live with the guilt for all my life but I couldn’t, can’t, continue to live without trying to right the things he’s wronged.”

Merlin can’t do anything but stare at him, for a long stretching moment, watching as Arthur holds his gaze and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. This, this is why they follow Arthur, why the whole rebellion would be willing to lay down their lives for him, because Arthur is a man who hurts with injustices he’s grown up never knowing but has intimate knowledge of, because he sees wrong and does anything he can to make it right, because he’s willing to go against everything he’s been taught to believe and everyone he’s been taught to love to save people he’s never met. Because he’s willing to kill his own father if it means the rest of the world gets to go on living.

“You should have still told me,” Merlin says quietly, his chest aching at the pain in Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur averts his gaze, clenching his hands into fists in front of him. The sound of metal grinding against metal fills their cell.

“I didn’t want you to see me any differently,” he admits quietly.

Merlin’s heart throbs with hurt. Does he not realise Merlin could never? Does he not know the world could turn and end and he would never see Arthur like anything other than the best, the most important person he knows?

“Arthur,” he says softly. He doesn’t continue until Arthur lifts his gaze to look at him. “When I look at you, I see a man who is honourable, compassionate, and kind. I see a man who would do anything to change the world for the better – even go against the father who raised him. I see my best friend,” Merlin watches Arthur grit his teeth and blink the wetness from his eyes, “and I couldn’t see you any differently even if I tried.”

Arthur gives him a hesitant, forced half-smile, hands relaxing against his bent knees.

“I’m hurt you didn’t trust me enough to tell me,” Merlin admits, and Arthur glances away, shame pinching his brows together. “But I’m not angry at you for being someone’s son.”

When Arthur looks back at him, Merlin smiles. “We cannot help who we are born as, only who we choose to become, and every day I have known you, Arthur, you have chosen a path that is good and just and right, that goes against everything you’ve been born into and raised to believe, to be someone who is kind and fair and understanding. And that makes you the greatest man I’ve ever known.”

Arthur’s eyes are brimming, but he’ll never let the tears fall. He never does. There’s a smile on his lips though, and this time it’s soft and small and real.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says quietly.

Merlin smiles at him again, and he hopes it’s reassuring and forgiving. “The rebellion would do well to know.”

Arthur shakes his head. “They wouldn’t follow me if they did,” he says, as if he truly believes they wouldn’t, as if he doesn’t understand all the reasons each of them have to stand by his side.

“They would,” Merlin tells him, certain and sure. “Sure, there might be backlash from some, but most of them have followed you for long enough to know that it doesn’t matter. They trust you with their lives, Arthur, with the future. Not because of where you come from, but because of who you are. You have proven time and time again that you are willing to lay down your life for the cause just the same as the others, that you will sacrifice everything you have to give for a better world if you must, that you will not hesitate to go through hell to get us there. They don’t doubt your loyalty to them or to the world we’re trying to create, and it won’t change with this truth. They follow you because you are a thoughtful and caring leader, no matter the circumstances of your birth; the only thing that binds you to Uther is your blood and your name. They know that, just as well as I do,” he says. He’s grinning now, the edges of anger only a drop left simmering in his stomach. “You are the rightful heir to the throne, but more importantly, you are their chosen leader, and they will follow you because they choose to do so. Trust them like they trust you.” Merlin holds Arthur’s gaze with steady eyes, and he wonders if the fire he feels in his chest is as clear to Arthur as it is to Merlin. “It matters where you come from only because the world deserves to know that even the son of Uther Pendragon will not tolerate his tyranny or bow beneath him.”

Arthur swallows again. “I don’t know if I can do it.” He looks at Merlin, conflicted and uncertain and scared. But Merlin can see that he’s made up his mind, probably long before Merlin told him to. Perhaps he just isn’t ready to face it alone.

“I’ll be there every step of the way.”

Arthur’s smile is tentative and grateful.

“Thank you, Merlin.”

There’s a beat of silence where all they do is smile at each other, and then Arthur closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, flexing his broken fingers. When he opens his eyes again, the fight and the purpose that had first pulled Merlin in shines with the brightness of a hundred suns and Merlin grins so widely his cheeks hurt.

“So, how do we get out of here?”

Metal scraping against metal catches their attention as something slides underneath the door. The brass object on the floor is flat, thin, and round and they both look down at the coin, hundreds of years old and completely useless in a world where physical currency hasn’t existed for well over a century. They only know one person who still carries those around.

They turn to grin at each other.

“Gwaine.”

[dothwrites]

15.14 coda: a gift

“Every day is a gift. But some days are packaged better.” ― Sanhita Baruah

---

Castiel bites back bitterness and hurt as he stares at Dean’s phone. They’re in the kitchen. Being in the library, around that table, was too much. There were still beer bottles scattered everywhere, party hats tossed down like landmines. 

The kitchen’s not necessarily better. Smears of flour still decorate the countertops. Sugar crunches underneath his shoes. A mixing bowl sits unwashed in the sink, remnants of frosting clinging to the sides and top. Sprinkles litter the ground like fallen soldiers. 

Somehow, in the time where Castiel was out in the world and failing once more, someone else managed to move into his empty place and usurp his position. Someone else took over in his stead and took care of his family better than he ever could, gave them what he never had. 

Happiness. 

Wild hurt claws at his chest, but Castiel beats it down. He’s no better, really, than them. He keeps his own secrets, forces others into his lies. He stands in front of Dean, accusing him of betrayal, when every word he speaks to Dean is tainted with falsehood. The word hypocrite nips at his heels; the word failure is not far behind. 

“His birthday,” Castiel says stupidly. He can’t wrap his mind around it, though the evidence exists, stark as the truth, on Dean’s phone. The words Happy Birthday Jack are written in icing, shaky with an unsteady hand. 

Castiel has thought about birthdays before, and the profoundly human nature of them. Only humans could think to carve out a specific twenty-four hours to celebrate themselves and the day they entered into the world. Only humans could think they mattered that much, that the date of their creation should be celebrated and marked as something unique. 

Castiel was not born. He was created, breathed into existence by a father who never cared about the creatures he made, other than to see how interesting it would be when he unmade them. No one has ever offered songs in gratitude for his existence, no one has ever thought to give him a gift for no other reason than the acknowledgement of his continued presence. 

Castiel has never felt the lack of it, until now. 

He looks again at the picture. Love radiates from the cake, love and acceptance and joy and belonging and countless other things that Castiel never knew to wish for until it was clear he could never possess them. There has always been a wall between him and the Winchesters, but it was built by hands other than theirs. For the first time, he feels the press of Sam and Dean in the immutable fabric of their separation. 

This, birthdays and cake and belonging and family, are for someone, something else. Not for him.  

“It wasn’t his birthday,” is all Castiel can think to say. Dean puts his phone away. Castiel would thank him for the small mercy, but he doesn’t trust his voice. “I know Jack’s birthday. His birthday is May 18th.” 

Dean’s face undergoes an interesting journey. He replies, shortly, “I know. I was there.” 

Castiel thinks about what else happened that day, about Crowley’s death, and Kelly’s sacrifice, and Mary’s disappearance. A piece of the puzzle slots into place. “Oh,” he says, uselessly. 

“Yeah, oh,” Dean mocks, but not cruelly. He continues on, his eyes staring at a place just beyond Castiel’s shoulder, “I couldn’t even look at him. For weeks, all I could see was everyone we lost.” His eyes shift down to look at Castiel’s face. Very carefully, as though approaching a wild animal or a bomb, Dean reaches out. 

His thumb lands at the corner of Castiel’s mouth. The pressure of the digit causes the slick flesh of his lips to press against his teeth. If Castiel wished, a mere turn of his head would bring that thumb into his mouth. 

He remains still. 

“All I could see, every time I looked at him, was how unfair it was that he was here and you weren’t. It shouldn’t have been that way.” Dean’s voice cracks open with something more than honesty. Castiel wants to examine it, but then he thinks about the whisper of impending empty, and he restrains himself. 

“And then later, after Mom,” Dean’s voice cracks again, this time with something closer to pain, “all I could see was the same thing. How he kept on taking from me, how unfair it was that he just took and took and took and left me with nothing.” 

Castiel says nothing; the raw wound of Mary’s death is too close to the surface for either him or Dean to examine objectively. If he dared to speak, he would tell Dean that take is what children do. They reach out and unthinkingly take from their parents and their parents keep giving, in a never ending Gethsemane.  

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...I should have known. You deserved to be there, more than any of us. You’re family, and I don’t say that enough. I just wanted...” Dean’s sigh is explosive and frustrated. “I just wanted him to have one normal thing. And he’s never had a birthday, a real birthday, and part of that is because I can’t be happy knowing that his birthday was the same day you died.” 

Dean’s thumb remains at the corner of Castiel’s mouth. 

Castiel is treading through dangerous waters. He should play the game which he has been playing for months, which is to deflect, to draw Dean’s attention elsewhere, to obfuscate and leave. But he finds himself tired. He’s tired and hurt and aching, and he wants so badly, just for once, to take a single shred of comfort for himself. 

“Hey,” Dean says, in a deliberate attempt to lighten the mood, though his eyes are still serious, searching Castiel’s face for something that Castiel wouldn’t know how to hide, even if he were sure it existed in the first place, “You’ve never had a birthday, have you? You want to pick a day? I could bake another cake; I’m getting pretty good at it. I know the kid would be thrilled.” 

The truth rushes in Castiel then, like a wave crashing to shore. Inevitable. His mouth opens; Dean’s thumb slides away. He can still feel the imprint, glowing hot, against his skin. 

Castiel’s voice tumbles out, well beyond his control. 

“Dean, there’s something you should know.” 

---

“If you think about it, birthdays are really pagan rituals about chanting around a flaming object that represents the amount of years taken off your life, upon which the flames are blown out and a knife is stabbed through it.” ― Fuad Alakbarov

[mossflowermouse]

This is a gift for @ah-nakin as part of the @starwarssecretsanta exchange - I hope you like it! Massive thanks to @lilhawkeye3 for organizing this, it’s been so much fun <3

(1.5k. In which Obi-Wan’s padawan and grandpadawan kids decide he needs a rest, pretty much everyone agrees with them, and nobody in this lineage is capable of doing anything without being Dramatic about it.)

Anakin and Ahsoka have been plotting something.

Not that there’s any real proof of it, mind you – they’ve become far too careful with their schemes lately to actually risk him overhearing anything – but Obi-Wan’s seen them trading glances, and he knows that look. At the very least, it means mischief. At its worst, well, quite a few officials are still scratching their heads over how anyone had managed to divert two-thirds of a parade plus cheering onlookers through the middle of the Temple last Republic Day. Although in fairness to the two of them, that one hadn’t been entirely their fault. It would have been resolved far more quickly had Master Yoda not chosen to interpret “please help” as “please help Anakin and Ahsoka” and gone to assure a bemused steward that of course this was the correct route for the parade, keep going you should, enjoying it the younglings are. 

(Mace had eyed Obi-Wan a little suspiciously when he’d informed the Council of that part. Obi-Wan had given his friend his most innocent I’m-a-responsible-Jedi-Master look in return; after all, his intention in going to Master Yoda had been to get the misunderstanding cleared up. And if it hadn’t been, Mace can’t prove it.)

Now, though, his padawans seem to be taking steps to avoid including him in their newest plot. Which means he’s almost certainly the target.

Ah well. Whatever it is will most likely be a nuisance, but a harmless one. There’s no point worrying about it now. Obi-Wan has more pressing matters to address, like the stack of paperwork he really ought to make a start on before the Council meeting at noon, and then there are a few odds and ends to check with Anakin about, and then –

There’s a knock at the door. He knows before answering it that Anakin and Ahsoka are standing outside, their familiar Force signatures bright with amusement. Well then. Perhaps he won’t have to wait that long to find out what they’re up to after all.

The first thing Obi-Wan sees as the door slides open is Anakin’s grin, which more or less confirms his hunch; Ahsoka is out of sight.

“Anakin. I wasn’t expecting to see you up this early. What brings you here?”

Anakin smiles innocently at him, which is never a good sign. “Well, Ahsoka and I were talking, and we think you should take more days off. Starting today. Take a break, Master, it’ll be good for you.”

Obi-Wan wonders, a little guiltily, if he’s misjudged his padawan’s intentions. “I appreciate the thought, Anakin, but I really can’t take today off. There’s an awful lot to sort out while we’re still on Coruscant, so…”

He trails off, suspicions returning in full force as Anakin’s smile widens. “Oh, don’t worry, Master. We’ve got everything planned out.” This is definitely what they’ve been scheming about, then. Obi-Wan wonders if he ought to have a bad feeling about it.

And speaking of we – Obi-Wan narrows his eyes. “Anakin, why is Ahsoka hiding in the corridor? We all know I know she’s there.”

Anakin steps back from the door and gestures to his left, inviting Obi-Wan to take a look. He does. Standing in the corridor and trying desperately to look serious is Ahsoka, wearing a set of Obi-Wan’s robes and a cloak that trails on the floor and a – he squints at the piece of orange fabric stuck to her chin – is that meant to be his beard? It’s awfully scruffy. And rather hastily made, from the looks of it. He blinks a few times in confusion.

“I’m going to be you for the day!” Ahsoka announces. “So you can rest and you don’t have to worry about missing anything.”

Obi-Wan really doesn’t think that’s how this works, but he’s prevented from saying so by Anakin chiming in again. “That’s right. Look, Master, the resemblance is striking. Nobody will even know the difference.”

Obi-Wan stares pointedly at Ahsoka’s montrals and terrible fake beard, then raises an eyebrow at Anakin, who just snickers a little. Before Obi-Wan can rebuke him, though, Ahsoka fixes Anakin with a look of mild disapproval, rubs her temples wearily, and says “Anakin” in an uncannily precise imitation of Obi-Wan’s Coruscanti accent. If he’s being honest, it’s a little surreal.

“Now, Snips, don’t tease Obi-Wan,” Anakin chides. Obi-Wan’s not sure he’s ever heard him sound less sincere. “But she’s right, you know, Master. We can handle everything.”

This is a little ridiculous. “Anakin, I have a Council meeting today - ”

“Don’t worry, Master, we already knew about it,” Anakin interrupts cheerfully. “Ahsoka can manage.”

Ahsoka, who if Obi-Wan recalls correctly was complaining about having to attend so many long briefings just last Taungsday, nods confidently and gives him a reassuring smile. “We’ve got this, Master Kenobi. Just relax!”

“Ahsoka will be there right on time for the meeting, won’t you, Snips?”

Obi-Wan can’t believe this. They can’t be serious.

He looks at them again and sighs internally. No, they are.

***

“ – and I checked with Cody and he told me you didn’t have anything urgent to sort out for the 212th while everyone is on shore leave, and that just leaves your meeting, and we’ve already got that sorted out, trust me, so – ”

“Anakin. I believe you. And I already said I’ll take the day to relax, you don’t have to keep trying to convince me.” It’s…mostly true, though Obi-Wan’s still planning to get a little of that paperwork done once they’ve left to go and cause chaos.

Anakin beams, basking in the success of a plan well executed. “That’s great, Master. Oh, I almost forgot! One other thing before we go – Ahsoka, that cloak’s way too long, you’d better leave it here.”

Ahsoka’s face lights up; clearly this part was planned, because right on cue, she shrugs out of the cloak with a level of exaggerated melodrama that rivals her grandmaster. Obi-Wan’s honestly a little proud to see it.

Anakin picks up the discarded cloak, wraps it around Obi-Wan’s shoulders with a flourish, and steers him firmly back into his room. On his way out, he calls over his shoulder, “By the way, Cody took your ‘pad earlier, so you’re not wriggling out of a day off by doing paperwork either. Relax, Master!”

So even Cody has joined the conspiracy against him. Obi-Wan will admit the betrayal stings a little. He sinks into a chair and resigns himself to a day of doing nothing in particular.

Two and a half cups of tea and half an hour of meditation later, Obi-Wan’s decided this might not be so bad after all. Though he ought to comm someone to explain. Yoda perhaps. Or – no, Yoda will just laugh, better to speak to Mace. And maybe make sure Anakin and Ahsoka don’t cause too much of a disturbance in his absence.

***

“Good morning, Padawan Tano,” holo-Mace says, completely deadpan. “Can I help you with anything?”

Obi-Wan resists the urge to turn the comm back off and throw it across the room; instead, he settles for giving his friend a deeply unimpressed look almost uniquely reserved for Anakin at his most irresponsible. “Mace. If this is meant as revenge for helping them with Republic Day…”

The corner of Mace’s mouth twitches, subtle enough that most would pass it off as a flicker of the holo without a second thought. “Certainly not, padawan.” Yes, it absolutely is. “You seem frustrated. Is there a problem?”

Obi-Wan huffs with exaggerated displeasure that entirely fails to make Mace look even a little bit sorry. “I was planning to explain my absence from the meeting and apologize in advance for anything Ahsoka and Anakin might get up to, but it seems there’s no need. Just how many people did they rope into this, Mace?”

Mace chuckles, dropping the act. “The rest of the Council, Skywalker’s droids, and I expect half your battalion will be in on it too by the end of the day. If you insist on working through every spare minute you shouldn’t be surprised when people notice it, Obi-Wan. They’re only trying to make sure you look after yourself.”

“This seems like far too much effort just to get me to take a day off. You could have just asked.”

“Perhaps,” Mace admits. “But it was funnier to see what Tano and Skywalker would come up with. Although I may regret saying that in a few hours.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, smiling fondly.

The same smile returns early that evening when his padawans drop in, Ahsoka now sporting an even more ridiculous fake beard and Anakin carefully balancing three cups of tea. Obi-Wan invites them both to sit down and gently straightens Ahsoka’s new beard – made by Quinlan this time, apparently, and it covers half her face and is longer than her lekku and honestly, where did Quinlan even get the time to make this? – before taking a seat again himself. As Anakin passes out the tea and Ahsoka excitedly begins to tell him about what Master Plo said to her in the Council meeting, Obi-Wan realises he’s quite intrigued by the inevitably chaotic details of their day. Particularly since with the rest of the Council enabling them this time, nobody can falsely claim he’s responsible for any of it. 

He takes a sip of his tea and settles in to listen.