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darkmatilda · 13 days ago

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𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when you were accommodated in such a shabby hotel, the last thing you needed was a power outage. and upon learning about one of your colleagues' fear of the dark, you can't bring yourself to not help him

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, spencer is afraid of the dark and the reader comforts him, they comfort each other tbh, elle&morgan my fav duo, glasses reid obvi.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.7k

𝐚/𝐧: these are my official apologies for all the recent stories 🫶🏼 i wanted it to be so much shorter but i just love writing conversations between characters so that's how it turned out. @mggslover i'm so sorry for not adding spencer falling off the bed but i didn't want to ruin that subtle ending :(( maybe next time

"Please, I’m begging you, I’m really begging you—begging in the name of a god I don’t even believe in. Tell me we’ve got the wrong address," Morgan said, squeezing his eyes shut the moment you all crossed the threshold of the motel where you'd been assigned to stay while working on the case in another state.

You noticed Elle’s expression falter as well. From the outside, the place hadn’t looked that bad. Well, perhaps it only seemed that way because the street it was on was so dark you couldn’t make out much of anything. Midnight must have been approaching; the first day of the investigation was officially over.

“We didn’t get it wrong,” Reid declared, stepping inside as the last of you, quickly scanning the interior. “I memorized it perfectly. Besides, there aren’t any other accommodations in the area, so this has to be it.”

“Do you remember that one case,” Elle started, “where the unsub killed women in hotel rooms and decorated the interiors with their intestines?”

You glanced at her, curious—or as curious as you could be under the circumstances. You’d only joined the team fairly recently; this was your third or fourth case at most, and none of them had been quite that… gruesome. Of course, you were well aware cases like that happened. It was only a matter of time before one came your way. Unfortunately.

“This motel totally looks like the kind of place where something like that happens on a daily basis,” Elle continued. “My advice? Don’t look under the beds tonight. Or in the closets, if there even are any.”

“I just hope there’s hot water,” Derek sighed, his voice carrying a tone of resignation. “We once ended up in a place that didn’t have any. I almost handed in my resignation.”

“You deal with gruesome murders every day, but no hot water is too much for you, Princess?” you raised an eyebrow, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye as you made your way toward the reception desk to pick up your room keys. The motel’s walls were yellow—not the cheerful sunflower or sunny kind of yellow, but more like dried-up cat pee yellow.

“He’s got a point, though,” Elle chimed in, taking the key from an elderly woman at the reception desk. “Think about it. You come back after a long, grueling day, from dawn to midnight, just like today. You’re exhausted, barely standing, and you can’t even take a hot shower.”

Morgan pointed at her and nodded in agreement. You shrugged.

“Cold isn’t that bad,” you muttered. Honestly, you hadn’t expected anything luxurious from the place you’d been sent to. It was just a few days, after all.

“Oh, are you one of those people practicing that millionaire morning routine?” Derek teased. “You know—waking up at three, cold shower, steak for breakfast, daily planning, self-help book…”

I just grew up poor, you thought to yourself, but aloud you only let out a short laugh.

“I’d kill to have time to read a book before work. Any book. Not to be yanked out of bed by Hotch at five, like today, and scrambling to get out the door.”

Elle and Morgan exchanged a very brief look, almost secretive. You narrowed your eyes, suspicion suddenly welling up inside you. Before you could ask about it, someone else spoke up.

“He called me at half past six,” Reid said, tilting his head in mild confusion.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the others silencing him with a look.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you stopped in your tracks, demanding an explanation. “He called me half an hour earlier than the rest of you?”

“You live farther away.”

“We’re practically neighbors, Elle Greenaway.”

“I’m about to drop,” Derek suddenly interjected with theatrical exhaustion. A change of subject. A not-so-subtle change of subject. “If I don’t lie down soon, I’ll fall asleep standing up. See you all tomorrow, folks.”

“You’re absolutely right—sleep well.”

With that, he and Elle headed up the stairs to the third floor, where they’d been assigned rooms. You and, as it turned out, Reid were staying on the second floor.

You turned to him slowly, arms crossed over your chest.

You didn’t even need to say anything—your stern gaze alone made it clear you were waiting for an explanation. Reid looked like he was about to throw his hands up in a defensive gesture, clearly regretting that he’d brought up the topic at all.

“Okay,” he sighed nervously. “What I’m about to say is not meant to offend you in any way, not even the slightest…”

“Offend?” you repeated, furrowing your brow. “Jesus Christ, Reid, don’t look at me like that—I’m not about to punch you in the face…”

“It’s just…” he began, a little calmer now. “All of us, including Hotch, I assume, are aware of the fact that, occasionally—just sometimes—you have a slight tendency to…run a bit late to work.”

He looked at you, and a telling silence fell between you.

"Yesterday, you were fourteen and a half minutes late."

"Fifteen minutes doesn't count as being late. And have you heard of a grace period? It's allowed to arrive within that time frame, without any consequences."

"Fine. What about two days ago, twenty-one minutes and seventeen..."

"Metro malfunction. I had no control over that."

"And six days ago, on Tuesday? Twenty-four minutes and..."

"I don’t remember such a situation, because, Mr. Big Brain, not all of us have such a memory. But I assume there was a reason..."

"Alright, fine," Reid interrupted you calmly. "I’m not saying there wasn’t a reason. But still... it happens quite often, and that's a fact. So it’s no surprise that Hotch, when the situation especially calls for it, prefers to call you a little earlier than the rest. Just out of caution."

You sighed, no longer able to argue about it. Maybe he was right; you did sometimes lose track of time in the mornings or fail to wake up to the sound of your alarm, closing your eyes for an extra five minutes... which resulted in small delays. You had never been directly reprimanded for it, so you were unaware that it had become such a big issue. Slightly embarrassed, you pressed your lips together.

"As usual, I guess you're right. And by the way, I’m heading to my room. I had thirty minutes less sleep than all of you, I’m exhausted," you said in a lighter, joking tone. A brief smile crossed Reid’s face. "Good night, wise guy.”

"Good night. And don’t look under the bed."

"Believe me, I wasn’t planning on it!"

With those words, you both disappeared into rooms directly opposite each other. The sounds of doors closing synchronized. You started your usual evening routine, placing your suitcase in the corner of the room. It was really small, narrow, and rectangular. The walls had that same awful color, the light was too bright, causing a headache. So you decided to just turn on the night lamp on the shabby nightstand next to the single bed.

It turned out that the only bathroom was in the hallway. You almost cried; you didn't want to take all your things with you and then come back with them. You remembered that you'd taken a proper shower that morning, so maybe a repeat wasn’t absolutely necessary. You were too sleepy for it, so you just set the alarm for fifteen minutes earlier to do it in the morning. After changing into comfortable clothes, you immediately lay down on the bed. Following Elle’s advice, and then Reid’s too, you didn’t check what might be hiding under it.

You weren’t hiding it, you were a terrible sleeper. Falling asleep in new places usually wasn’t a problem for you, even if it was a place that looked like a dive where someone could stab you in your sleep. But that night, something was bothering you. After giving it some thought, you realized it was Reid’s words.

Of course, it wasn’t that you held it against him. He was just stating facts; he had no intention of offending you, as he assured. And you didn’t even feel offended. More like unpleasantly confronted with a certain fact. You had only been part of the BAU for a short time. Well, just a week ago Derek stopped calling you the new girl. Although on the outside, you came across as very confident, on the inside, you were preoccupied with the team’s opinion of you and what they might think about you. Mainly because they were all older and more experienced.

You were especially worried about the fact that your tardiness and chaos had drawn the boss’s attention. Being on good terms with your superior was incredibly important, in case something ever happened, in case you made a more serious mistake…those small things could influence how the rest of your career would unfold, and the decisions made about you.

But above all, you wanted everyone to like you. Simply like you. So you wouldn’t walk around every day with your heart in your throat, praying for the day to end, constantly overwhelmed by a sense of misfit and loneliness.

You turned to your side, not sure how long you had been lying there, thinking. Suddenly, you realized you had to pee.

With great reluctance and sleepiness, you reached for the bedside lamp to turn it on and go to the bathroom. However, when you tugged at the cord, it... didn’t turn on. The room remained shrouded in darkness. You tried once more, then blindly made your way to the light switch in the room. You pressed it, and nothing.

What was going on, a power outage?

You shook your head in confusion. Whatever was going on, it didn’t change the fact that you had to go to the bathroom. You remembered the flashlight in your jacket pocket, and in the darkness, it took you a while to find it. When you finally had it in your hand, you felt ready to complete the mission. To pee, that is.

The moment you stepped out into the hallway, a light source flared up right before your eyes. You let out a muffled exclamation, partly from surprise, partly from being almost blinded.

“Damn, sorry…” Reid hissed, equally confused, turning his flashlight downward, away from your face.

You rubbed your eyelids, turning off your flashlight. Two light sources were unnecessary.

“Is there no power for you too?” you asked.

Reid nodded. It was only then that you really looked at him—he was wearing very loose pajama pants and...

“Cute,” you clicked your tongue, pointing at his white sweater with a bear wearing glasses. He had them too, worn very low on his nose. He must have put them on absentmindedly, in the dark, right after getting out of bed.

“I got it from Penelope for my birthday,” he said in a tone as if he were giving a statement. His hand briefly touched the fabric, right at the center of the brown bear’s face. “It’s really comfortable and soft. Perfect for sleeping...Anyway, I was heading to the reception to find out what the issue is and whether anything can be done about it. You too?”

"No, I just really need to pee. Do you really want to go there at this hour?" you asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "I mean, outages happen, and they'll have to fix it, but it's the middle of the night. We don't really need the lights right now, and if you want to go to the bathroom, you have a flashlight, as I can see."

You kept your gaze on him, realizing that since he noticed the lack of light, he must have been either heading somewhere himself or keeping the light on. Or maybe he had been sleeping with the light on. He did seem a bit tense. One of his hands was still resting on the half-open door, nervously gripping it. The other was pressed tightly to his body, his chest rising in an odd rhythm. Not a quickened pace, like with a panic attack, but more unnatural, like he was trying to control it.

"Are you afraid of the dark?" the question slipped out of you directly. After a moment, you realized it might have been a little too blunt. You had asked it carelessly, suspecting there might be another reason behind his behavior. For some reason, fear of the dark didn’t seem to fit his rational character.

Reid quickly shook his head, firmly denying it.

"No. No, of course not. I was just... reading when the light went out."

Oh, you didn’t even need to be a profiler to see right away that he was lying. You crossed your arms, a little amused by how stubbornly he was denying it.

"You were reading? At this hour? When we’re back to the investigation first thing tomorrow morning?"

He shrugged, shaking his head again.

"I couldn’t sleep."

You sighed. In the end, neither his fear nor his shame were your concern, so you didn’t see the point in interrogating him any further. You signaled that you were dropping the subject, and some expression passed across his face. Gratitude. Gratitude for not pushing the issue or mocking him. You felt a bit offended that he had even thought you might do that.

“If you still plan on going to the reception, wait for me, I’ll go with you. I just need to quickly stop by the bathroom.”

Reid opened his mouth, clearly surprised by your suggestion.

“Well, what?” you replied with a shrug. “I can’t let something eat you on the way. A demonic hand emerging from the darkness…”

“Very funny,” he commented, rolling his eyes. However, the corner of his mouth twitched, and his breathing seemed calmer.

“…The ghost of Richard Ramirez haunting the walls of this hotel. Or some other bloodthirsty maniac.“

"Didn't you really have to pee badly?"

"The team wouldn’t recover from losing you, Reid!" You threw that line over your shoulder as you walked toward the bathroom.

Of course, there was no light there either, so you had to use your flashlight. He was waiting for you, and together, in silence, you headed down the stairs toward the reception. Given how small the motel was, it wasn’t open 24/7. You had to wait a while before someone came to assist you.

“That happens sometimes,” the employee shrugged. “We’re not sure where the problem is exactly, but someone’s supposed to come check it out tomorrow…”

“Can’t anything be done about it now?” Reid asked, a trace of frustration in his voice that he was trying to mask—especially when he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Maybe it’s just a simple overload? Where are the fuse boxes…?”

“Reid,” you said gently, placing a hand on his elbow to draw his full attention. He turned his head toward you, surprised by the tone of your voice. You gave the employee a discreet signal that you didn’t have any further questions and he could leave.

“You’re not fixing the electricity in some rundown motel. That would just be… ridiculous.”

“I’m not talking about fixing it,” he clarified quickly, though it was clear he hadn’t let go of the idea. “But in most cases, it’s just a simple short circuit. I could just take a look—”

“—Or you could just sleep in my room.”

The words left your mouth, surprising not only him but also yourself. Yet, it wasn’t as though you regretted them or wanted to take back the offer. On the contrary, the moment you said it out loud, it felt even more fitting. When you were a little kid—like most children, probably—you’d also been afraid of the dark, and running to someone else’s room always helped. Curling up beside someone, just knowing someone was there, made all the difference.

You watched his reaction, the way he shook his head slightly from side to side, a small frown creasing his forehead.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all. Come on.” You grabbed him by the wrist—the hand not holding the flashlight—and pulled him along. He moved hesitantly, but he seemed too caught off guard to plant his feet and stay put.

He stopped only when you reached the door to your room, pulling his hand free from your grasp.

"How do you even imagine this working? There's... there's only one bed in there."

"If that bothers you, grab the mattress and some bedding from your room. You’ll hardly notice the difference—those beds are unbearably uncomfortable anyway."

He lowered the flashlight slightly, letting the surrounding darkness of the hallway creep over his face. It was barely visible now, but the hesitation etched on it was unmistakable. Standing across from him, you held his gaze without saying a word, silently reinforcing the fact that you weren’t joking.

The thought of him struggling to fall asleep for the rest of the night and then suffering through another day made you feel genuinely sorry for him. Besides, even though you hadn’t known each other long, you already considered him a sort of friend. If there was anything you could do to help, you wanted to do it.

"It's no big deal, Spencer," you reassured him one last time, hoping the words would finally sink in. "Really. And if you want... we don't ever have to talk about this again. Tomorrow, or ever."

His chest rose as he drew in a deep breath.

"Th-thank you," he said at last, cautiously, as though he'd packed so many thoughts into the single word that saying it out loud was an effort.

You smiled gently and understandingly. Before stepping into the room, you briefly placed a hand on his arm.

"Oh God, that sweater really is soft..."

He let out a short laugh, perhaps releasing a bit of the embarrassment he’d been holding back. You both disappeared into your respective rooms, and you lay down in bed, waiting for him to show up. Well, the moment dragged on a little too long.

You were almost certain he’d only agreed to your suggestion to get you off his back and had no intention of actually following through. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you debated whether to go to his room and drag him over or just let it go. They say you shouldn’t force help on others. Maybe there was some truth to that.

Shortly after that thought, your door creaked open slowly. You heard it but couldn’t see much—the room was too dark, and he wasn’t using his flashlight. Perhaps he assumed you were already asleep and didn’t want to risk waking you.

Either way, he moved around your bed to lay down a pillow and blanket on the floor, skipping the effort of hauling over an entire mattress.

"Your back is going to hurt," you remarked softly, your voice adjusting to the rhythm of the night, blending with the surrounding darkness.

You lay on your side, facing the spot where he had set up his makeshift bed. All you could see was the outline of his figure, his hands clasped loosely over his stomach, head resting on the pillow. You even caught the slight shrug of his shoulders in response to your comment.

"Actually, sleeping on the floor can have health benefits. It helps maintain a neutral spine position," he replied.

“Seriously?” you scoffed. “Do you really have to come up with a counterargument for everything I say?”

“Such a curse of mine. If you don’t like it, well, you invited me here.”

“Annoying bastard. I guess it’s too late to kick you out?” you wondered aloud, of course, rhetorically. But you quickly added, worried that he might take it seriously, “Sleep well. You and your spine.”

An amused sigh escaped him.

“You… and your spine too.”

Well, you guessed that's enough of the chit-chat. You felt a bit disappointed, but you had brought him here for a reason. To let him sleep, not to entertain you with conversation. To your surprise, you didn’t feel sleepy, even though you had struggled with it earlier. You had been thinking about... hard to even pinpoint what, there were a few things. The little worries typical of the night, suddenly growing to some huge proportions.

You were still lying in the same position, some time had passed. Your cheek was almost touching the edge of the bed, on the same side where Reid slept. Well, actually, he wasn’t sleeping. You could see a faint, barely noticeable gleam of his open eyes. They were cast downward, trying not to stare into the empty blackness above his head.

“Have you always been afraid of the dark?” you decided to ask, with no sarcasm.

“I’m not afraid,” he replied, though he could always pretend to be asleep. But the answer came out automatically.

“Alright, brave guy.” You didn’t even scoff, you just said it calmly and accepting. Maybe later he’ll tell you, when he stops being so embarrassed about it. “So, I guess you came here to get to know me better. And you know, I think you’ve got the chance. Could you... could you tell me something? Just honestly?”

"Me?" he asked, surprised, even sitting up slightly. "I mean... sure. But what?"

You suddenly sighed, regretting even bringing up the topic. God, that was so stupid...

"Just remember, honestly. Do you think the rest of the team likes me?"

Reid was silent, a strange feeling gathered in your stomach. Instead of answering negatively, he propped himself up on both elbows, and you saw a slight movement of his head. A nod.

"Are you asking this completely seriously?"

You shrugged, not sure if he noticed, so you confirmed out loud in a slightly hoarse voice. And then, to your absolute surprise, he just laughed.

"I don’t get it," he confessed after a short moment during which you stared in silence at his silhouette. "How... how could you think it could be any different? You’re always joking with Derek and Elle, and... we get along well too, I hope..."

"You’re right. But... but that’s not what I meant, I just... ugh, seriously, I can’t explain it. Fine, you know what, never mind."

You turned onto your back, as if that would completely sever the conversation. The one you’d stupidly started. You hoped he wouldn’t mention it to anyone. Another stupid thought, after all, he wasn’t like that.

Silence again, broken only by breaths. A new sound joined them, a slight rustle of the sheets. When Reid spoke again, his voice sounded somehow higher, and you were sure he was sitting on the floor as he said it.

"It might be a little surprising, but when I was a kid, I wasn't afraid of the dark," he began, completely changing the tone of his voice. He wasn't surprised like before; it was lower, gentler, despite the topic he was addressing. "I mean, I wasn't afraid of it more than any other kid my age. That... that serious fear, the real fear, started later. I don't want to say it was when I started working for the BAU because that wouldn't be entirely true. But it was around the time I started taking everything seriously. Seeing it with my own eyes, every day."

You didn't even realize when you had turned back onto your side, just to look at him, listening to his words.

"Do you have nightmares?" you asked.

"Sometimes. Actually..." he sighed, swallowing. "All of it, the fear and the nightmares, it's like they don't exist when I'm in a place I know. A place I trust. I can sleep just fine with the lights off in my apartment, the same in a jet. Everything starts in places like this. “

There was silence from your side, and you felt a bit… touched that he decided to tell you this. No beating around the bush, no lying, and, most importantly, no overwhelming embarrassment. It was a normal topic after all; everyone has their fears.

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you have nightmares?"

In the first few days after starting the job, you did. Then they stopped. That’s just how things go, you suppose.

"Not anymore," you admitted, letting out a small laugh. "But that doesn’t mean I sleep well. Now I just worry at night."

"About whether the team likes you?"

"Okay, I know it sounds childish, but it’s really been bothering me lately. They might… they might seem to like me, but deep down, they might not think that highly of me. I… I'm new, not that experienced, I’m always late, and I don’t think I’m bringing anything new to the table..."

"Of course, you’re bringing something," he interrupted you. You hadn’t noticed when, but you were both sitting up now. Your voices weren’t sleepy whispers anymore, you were having a real conversation. "Each of us brings something different, something characteristic of ourselves. That's how it works in a team. That’s why you’re here. Without you… okay, you might not know this, but since you’ve been here, these last four cases have gone much more smoothly."

"Do you really think so?"

"Well, you asked me to be honest. Completely honest."

You've always had a bit of imposter syndrome, doubting your abilities, and approaching others' positive comments about you or your achievements with skepticism.

Something in the way he spoke, his quick words, his engagement in them... made you believe him, somehow.

"Reid," you began, surprised to find that there was less weight in your chest, in your body. "I know, I just know, that you'll refuse, but still, I'll ask. Do you want to lie down with me?"

You didn't even know what exactly prompted the question. Caring about your back, you could answer. But was that really all it was?

For a moment, he was silent, thinking you were joking, but when it dawned on him that you weren't, he scoffed.

"Well, you were right, I'll refuse..."

"Sorry, but I doubt you'll fall asleep any other way. I was watching you, as creepy as that sounds. You were lying there with your eyes open, you were scared."

"I'm an adult man who's afraid of the dark. That's pathetic on its own, without being tucked to sleep by a coworker."

"I never mentioned anything about tucking you in."

He hesitated, embarrassed.

"You took the least important part of my statement..."

"I took what I wanted. The rest is nonsense. Your age doesn't determine what you can or can't be afraid of. I'm a grown woman, and I'm afraid my colleagues don't like me. Which sounds more pathetic, huh? Fear of the dark or that?"

“I think it’s a point we could argue about for hours.”

“Which we don’t have. It’s late, we should go to sleep. Quick question, are you lying down with me, or are you fooling yourself into thinking you’ll fall asleep without it?”

A heavy, resigned sigh escaped him. Without adding anything else to his words, you turned onto your side, your back to him. You heard the rustling of the sheets, and for a moment, you froze, surprised. But no, he hadn’t joined you.

You weren’t sure how you felt. Disappointed seemed like too strong a word. It wasn’t as though he had refused some incredibly important request of yours. It was just… perhaps the best explanation would be that, once you had convinced him to sleep in the same room for the sake of helping him, you wanted him to take something comforting from that night. You wanted it to be one of those good nights, like the ones he had in his apartment or in the jet, the ones he had mentioned. Not one of the others, filled with fear.

But then, the mattress beside you dipped, as someone else settled onto it.

You turned to the other side, and suddenly your faces were right across from each other. Reid swallowed, almost nervously. He seemed to be adjusting to the situation, to the sudden closeness, the small space you shared. You propped your hand under your head, observing him discreetly. It hit you that he always had a bit of an issue with contact with others. A doubt crossed your mind: had you made him uncomfortable?

Minutes passed, though, and his body seemed to sink more comfortably into the bed. His arms were no longer stiff, his hands resting freely, no longer clasped tightly across his chest. You could also hear his breath, and the more peaceful it became, the calmer you felt too.

And even though no words seemed necessary anymore, he decided to speak once again.

"Thank you."

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mohammedziara · 3 months ago

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Help Us Survive This Winter: A Father’s Plea ❤️‍🩹

My name is Mohammed, and I never imagined that one day I would have to write these words, asking for help to simply keep my family alive. I used to work as a painter and decorator, taking pride in providing for my family and raising my two boys, Arafa and Mohammed, with love and security. But everything changed overnight.

Our home, the place where we built memories, was destroyed in a bombing. The car I depended on to make a living was reduced to ashes. We were left with nothing. Now, my family—my wife, my parents, my brother Ahmed, and my boys—are crammed into a school near the Port of Gaza, a shelter that is no longer a place of learning, but a refuge for the displaced.

The constant sound of gunfire and bombs haunt us day and night. Each explosion shakes the ground beneath us and tears at our spirits. My children, Arafa and Mohammed, once so full of life, now cower in fear. They have nightmares and cry in their sleep. The trauma they are enduring has stolen their childhood. My heart breaks every time I see the fear in their eyes, knowing that I can’t make it go away.

We are living in survival mode. There is no money for food. No fuel to stay warm as winter creeps closer. No medicine to treat the constant sicknesses that come with our living conditions. And no warm clothing to protect my children from the freezing nights that are just around the corner. I watch them shiver, hungry and cold, and I feel utterly powerless as a father.

We’ve lost everything, and I have no means to provide for my family. We’ve reached a point where we cannot survive without help. I never thought I’d be in this position—having to rely on the generosity of strangers to keep my family alive. But I am here, pleading with you, because the alternative is unthinkable.

Please, if you can spare anything at all, it could mean the difference between life and death for us. Your donation, no matter how small, can help us buy food so my children won’t go to bed hungry. It can help us find fuel to keep warm in the brutal winter months ahead. It can provide medicine for my boys and warm clothing to protect them from the cold.

I know the world is full of need right now, but I hope you can find it in your heart to help my family. We are just one of many who have lost everything, but to us, your kindness could change our world. It could give my children a chance to feel safe again, to heal from the trauma they are carrying, and to survive the months ahead.

Thank you for reading, for caring, and for anything you can do to help. Your generosity will not only provide us with the necessities we need to survive but also restore a bit of hope in a time when it feels like all hope has been lost.

With all my heart, thank you.

#free gaza

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senseandaccountability · 2 months ago

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the narrative that could have been

Having mulled over the game for a couple of days I have realised that the main problem for me is that Veilguard is good based on the premises they ultimately choose, but not based on the set up and promise of what was there before. I know this isn’t a unique take by any means and yes it’s all about the Evanuris and the Veil and Solas.

Replaying really emphasises how incredibly little the game convinces me of its original main quest - to prevent Solas from doing his ritual. This is a problem as a long-term player because for three games we’ve had build up for a great crescendo tackling the overarching themes of the (restrictions and oppression of) magic, of tears in the Veil, of religious tyranny and oppression based on myths about the Black City and the temptations of flawed humans, we’ve seen and deconstructed the elves quite a bit, we got started on the dwarves and in DAI your Inquisitor can openly ask Solas if it wouldn’t be better if the Veil came down because then spirits wouldn’t be separated from the living and risk becoming demons. Cole, whose function is to reflect the plot, talks endlessly about the old songs wanting to be sung again, about how it hurts to be cut off from part of yourself, how the templars feel it, how the mages feel it, how the elves and the dwarves feel it. The Veil as a prerequisite for life has been deconstructed, the Fade demystified, the gods have mostly fallen. The Veil as an actual wound inflicted on this earth has been presented as a theory and not been convincingly rejected by the narrative.

The game actually gives no explanation whatsoever as to why the Veil coming down would be worse than what Rook causes in the beginning and what the escaped gods then do to the entire Thedas. The entire south falls to the Blight because Elgar’nan and Ghilan'nain are let loose. The Wardens are more or less wiped out. There’s enormous political turmoil. The game gives us Solas saying “thousands” would die when he brought the Veil down, but that he had a host of spirits there to help. (Yes, I know, his sole function in this game is to Trick and Deceive so who is to say if he’s lying, HUH, but even so, THE ENTIRE SOUTH FALLS TO THE BLIGHT IN ROOK’S VERSION OF THINGS.)

The game puts emphasis on Solas's questionable methods and past horrors but it doesn't ever explain why his goals are despicable here and now. It doesn't convince us that tearing down the Veil with lots of safety measures in place and after considerations is a bad result, all things considered - save for Varric’s initial yelling about demons. (We even learned in DAI that the Veil itself creates demons because it restricts the passage of spirits, come on.) Because three games have suggested it's not, not ultimately. Trespasser especially nuances this, just as it nuances Solas’s view of this current world state. Right after his long nap he would have nuked it all, I’m sure, but the whole point of character arcs is that things happen in them and what happened to him is that he was shown layers and angles he had not considered and adjusted his mindset and ultimately his plan accordingly. That is where DAV should have picked it up. That's where the build up was headed. But, now he must serve the narrative solely as the God of Treachery and Lies which means that previous build up is washed away for the most part. (In no way do I think he is OOC in DAV, I just want to point that out so nobody thinks I’m a sappy fangirl or whatever. I think he is perfectly in tune with his inner Dread Wolf, but that is also all he gets to be, because of the narrative, and I’m always much more interested in when roles and personas clash.) Again. The main problem is that the narrative cannot explain why bringing down the Veil would be the worse option than the shit we see unfold on screen. Instead it gets a bit lost in the past. And I have Issues with that, as well. Like, the dumbing down of the war against the Evanuris. The war that started because the leaders of the rebellion - who previously had to carry out terrible orders so the Evanuris, the upper crust of the Elvhenan, could play gods - decided that the Evanuris was a threat to them all. And the game gives us what, a depiction of how the rebellion ended up crossing lines, too? No shit.

Like, I am fully on board with the individual theme of regret on Solas’s part and he ought to be wrecked with guilt but I wish the game could be less all over the place with what sort of things he ought to be wrecked with guilt over. Saying fuck you to the Evanuris is the best and brightest of his character, I suppose I just don't want it dragged down to the same level as him breaking the Titans. I suppose I would have wished for a narrative that also worked on a systemic level when depicting things like, you know, war and revolutions and subjugation. But we don't have that, because DAV is only about personal choices. The Lighthouse crew flippantly writing the hierarchical and violent power struggle off as being about love and betrayal is on my shitlist forever.

No, Taash et al, it was not about pussy, it was about feeling compelled by superiors to commit heinous war crimes and being lied to about the actual purposes of your damn war in the first place. The elves shouting at Elgar’nan and Mythal in this painting aren’t driven by love and sex they have been lied to by their ruling class. It was never about freedom or ending the wars, it was always about Elgar’nan jerking off to ultimate godhood. The writing even suggests betrayal here is to be understood as Netflix drama betrayal, maybe some juicy porny plot but it’s ABOUT THE BETRAYAL OF THE ELVES BY THEIR OWN KIN. ((ETA: I would have wanted my Dalish mage to be allowed to be furious, NOT WITH SOLAS, but with the fucking Evanuris for betraying her people and being so fucking vile that the only option that remained was to create a world where she's a second-class citizen. I would have wanted the game to recognize that not all causes are equal and that Elgar'nan's cause for godhood was objectively more vile than Solas's cause for freedom because as it stands now, there are some really iffy vibes of "both sides are equally bad" and other things authorities tend to say when comparing destructive regimes with uprisings.)) I’m sorry, this shit hits me on a personal and political rage level.

I also can’t help but mourn a game where the Trickster God fulfilled his trope’s duty and shook the stagnation apart with his actions - for good or ill, the way trickster gods are wont to do - and where Rook was tricked into helping and then, a more complex game about its consequences could have unfolded. The Evanuris could still have been the bad guys, if they wanted big villains frothing at the mouth. There could still have been numerous unplanned consequences, like all of Solas's plans have. Maybe other ancients awake as well. Maybe ancient evils who aren’t elves, who knows. Point is - the Veil should have come down, at least in some form, at least in some outcome. THAT is what they've been building up to. In this game that never was, Rook could be an actual interesting character where we could mold her as either accepting of this trickster role (which fits perfectly for a blank slate with no ties) or set to overturn it and enforce status quo, with some vanilla option in the middle. Maybe the Veil doesn’t come down until the very end of the game, ancient magic takes time after all, maybe a lot has happened by then. But ultimately, Rook’s choice in the end should not have been about siding against Solas because he’s lying to you or because he did horrible things in the past or siding with him because you want him redeemed. The narrative should have provided those options either way. The narrative should have been brave enough to suggest that hey, maybe Solas isn't wrong at all - his methods maybe, but his goal, no. If they truly wanted mirrors between Rook and Solas, Rook should have tackled the issue of actively bringing down the Veil herself, not because it's a roses and sunshine-outcome but because it might very well be the lesser of two evils. Gods, that would have been interesting. It should have been a choice about what sort of world Rook and the Veilguard wants to see in the future. It should have been about the people, the world, not how angry Rook is that an ancient elf has tricked her.

That would have been the game I wanted to play. This story doesn't really give anything new to the world of Thedas, which a world without the Veil would have. It accomplishes closure for our favourite trickster god and bless them for that, but as for the plot and the world-building it ends on a meh because the narrative isn't about the people unless they're brought up as being endangered. This is why I can feel satisfaction regarding the thematic conclusion to certain character arcs, the trickster becomes the healer with the bloodiest hands, the wolf submits willingly to his trap and so on and so forth, and I can have fun with the characters and their arcs but also really mourn the game that was there, in subtext and build up over three previous games and in several tie-ins.

#salty on main #datv #datv spoilers #solas dragon age #datv critical

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itsnathateasy · 3 months ago

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aot characters reacting to you asking them “what are we?”

warnings: just fluff word count: 1,1k author's note: this was a bit silly hehe, too silly, it broke my heart because they’re all drawings and not people

⭑🌻 ⭒🤎 . ✦ 🙈 . ⁺ . ✦ 🙈 . ⁺ . ✦ 🙈 . 🤎⭒🌻 ⭑

eren dies and i mean DIES to make things official with you but, let’s face it, eren’s a scaredy cat when it comes to matters of the heart. he does, however, reassure you that he’s thinking seriously about you two and that you’re really important to him, but he wants to take things slow

armin blushes all over but has the biggest and happiest smile on his face. he’ll have you sit down and talk through things together, making what was a situationship, now official. he stutters all the time, not because he’s shying on you, but he’s so excited, his words are trying to match the pace of his thoughts and he just stumbles over his words A LOT. he’s also trapping your knees between his own in an attempt to face you the entire time of your conversation, your hands intertwined on both of your knees

HEAR ME OUT, but mikasa probably gives you a glare, her eyes as wide as physically possible and exclaims “we’ve been dating for all these months, what do YOU think we are y/n?”, then grabs onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together, scooting closer to you on the couch and shushes you, “don’t interrupt movie night with silly questions”

levi is kind of like mikasa, in the sense that in his head, you’ve also been a couple for quite some time now, but when you surprise him with his question, he’d simply sigh, and hold both of your hands in his. he’d explain that even though this is what he thinks it might be the right time “to make it official in a proper way, right?”, looking up at you with a crooked smile. he’d kiss your hands and strike you with a “do you want to be my silly lil girlfriend/boyfriend y/n?” “why would you call me silly levi?” “we’ve been dating for 7 months and you dare ask me what we are… i know what YOU are and it’s “very silly”, as previously stated”

hange doesn’t even get it and responds with “uhm what are you talking about? we’re comrades” they said as they dag in the garden, their current project being “planting lilies”. you kneeled down beside them, proceeding to helping them with the holes on the ground. if hange paid one tiny look at your face, they’d know you were upset by their response, but instead, they kept on babbling about the plants and shared all the new information they’d learned about soil and seeds. what really got to them, was how you never responded to any of their statements. “something wrong y/n?” “yes hange, i asked you what we are and you said “comrades”, is that all i am to you? after all this time?” at this moment, you could see the confusion in hange’s face, the gears in their mind finally rolling. “oh y/n, i thought you meant right now cause we’re still on scout premises, you know… i think we’re a very happy, romantic couple and i’d like things to stay this way. but when on duty, we’re comrades” they said and gave you a sweet peck on the lips, you face becoming greasy with soil from their hands as they cupped your cheeks.

erwin is upset, what kind of stunt are you pulling on him? “we’re married, y/n. have been for 2 years now. what is this little game of yours?” he said and crossed his arms, staring at you intently. it was extremely difficult to hold back your laughter, it almost felt that you were about to choke trying to hold your breath. “it’s just a joke erwin, i’m filming your reaction” you explained and pointed to where you’d hidden your phone, camera capturing the both of you. “you and your pranks” he said, while grabbing the phone in his hand and saying “she got me… AGAIN!”, camera on him, then handed the phone back to you, kissing you on the temple. “we’ll sort this out later”

ymir will simply smile contently at you and hold your hand, a silent reassurance that you’re a thing. ymir tends to be more on the shy side, so she conveys many emotions through physical touch and by giving you certain “looks” and tons of special treatment, but you’ve come to know this is her way of expressing her feelings towards you

connie wasn’t expecting this conversation to happen right now, but he’s the calmer of group. “imma put this out there y/n and i hope i won’t regret it” he took a deep breath in as he held both of your hands in his, thumbs softly pressing down on your skin. “i know we agreed to be casual but this isn’t working for me anymore. i want us to properly be together, if that’s what you want too of course” he paused and waited for your response, avoiding your gaze. you responded with “of course it’s what i want too co-” but before you could finish his name, he hugged you tightly, squeezing your breath out of you and kissing all over your face the moment he pulled away. “is it too early to ask you to meet my mum?” connie pleaded innocently.

jean will play it nonchalant, as if he wasn’t about to burst and die because he wasn’t sure about your situation either, but was too scared to be the one to ask you first! “the talk” is quite welcome though, you can see how jean seemed more calm the more you talked about your situationship and where it might lead you, agreeing that you’re in it for the long run. he’s been giving you the puppiest of eyes throughout your conversation, only shifting his gaze elsewhere to put a strand lock of hair behind your ear or to caress your cheek. did i mention he has the goofiest smile? you almost thought he might be having a stroke, but poor boy is just so in love with you, he can’t believe you’re also in love with him.

sasha freaks out and begins to jitter. “what do you mean “what are we” y/n? are we not lovers? romantic lovers? very much in love? did i do something wrong? have i hurt you? what did i do?” you have to stop her rumbling by physically shutting her mouth with your hand and explain that everything’s fine between you, you simply wanted to clear any ambiguities and talk things through, but as you explained your trail of thought and why “the talk” was so important to you, you noticed sasha was spacing off, the look on her face turning more and more absent by the second. “hey, are you still here?” you’d question, but sasha’s response was “what’s an “ambiguities” baby?”

read part 2

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shorthaltsjester · 5 months ago

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so, so many thoughts about ashton’s words and position re the gods but nothing really struck me as much as “i’d like to see them pray to us.” (or whatever the exact wording is) because yeah, that’s extremely ashton, that’s the same attitude of a person who has been hurt and broken by life in an unfair manner and tried to absorb a shard because they thought it would fix it, ignoring all warnings that it would make it worse, and then insisting it wasn’t about power, despite the fact that it explicitly was about power — the power to render their life fair. it becomes increasingly clear every time that ashton opens his mouth that, along with being an incisive translation of certain kinds of punk politics to exandria, ashton is more set on vengeance than justice, even if he insists his motivation is that the gods are a source of injustice, it seems more like what he admitted after the shard: he’s spent his life looking for someone to blame, and while he’s happy to hate himself, it took a while for them to realize they were an agent in their own story, culpable for the life they’ve lived. ashton looks at the gods and sees a metaphorical vehicle of all the harm and hurt and pain that’s befallen him due to people in positions of power and cannot (or refuses) to see that a) the gods position isn’t actually all that powerful without the mortals who choose over and over to fulfil divine will for good or evil or in between and b) the gods already have a relationship to mortals that is akin to prayer.

and this is all extremely in character, as much as a lot of ashton’s comments echo many a political stance that makes me roll my eyes, it’s always with an attitude of yes of course ashton would say that. what is mildly more irritating (or perhaps concerning) is the readiness with which aspects of the audience concur with ashton’s assessment, when we have seen countless interactions of gods with mortals that shows us that the gods, though not actual prayer, have a very similar kind of belief in mortals that they ask of those who believe in them. like, vox machina had two episodes dedicated to talking to the gods, where it was revealed that the everlight didn’t just know pike but has beholden to her as the one who brought her back into import. where vex proved herself to pelor not just through completing his challenge but by having long been an imperfect but true source of good for the family she’s chosen that they convinced pelor that vex was a suitable champion by pointing out that she has earned several of their belief, she protects the same city pelor blessed with the sun tree, she’s protective and protected, and her heart and her intelligence are equally sound when it comes to her ability to make judgements, (all things we’ve learned since c1 are important to pelor) resulting in pelor deciding he would also believe in her. where ioun pointed out that while she keeps all stories, scanlan is a storyteller, and what could she possibly cherish more than that.

each god when vox machina spoke to them was quick to correct them when vox machina suggested things like their paths being determined or their lives being beyond their control or the world being down to the will of the gods. vex apologizes to the everlight for not realizing that the gods were really beings and she tells vox machina that she doesn’t ask for the belief of all, only those who wish to give it, as the gods chose to give mortals the ability to choose as they wish upon anything, including their faith in the deities. when vox machina asks pelor to whether they should do something with vecna’s eye, he insists that they make the decision whether they’d like to destroy it or use it — he will help however they decide, but he insists it’s on them to choose the outcome. they speak with ioun, who knows their and every story, and she tells them that the gods do not choose the individual fates of mortals, it is up to every person to choose who they will and will not be, and sometimes that guides them to places the gods have predicted, but never without the choices a mortal makes to arrive there.

the concept of belief throughout the three campaigns has been an complex and ever shifting one — as it deserves. in campaign 1, it’s largely in the context of coming to understand what it means to believe in gods when they obviously do exist, but what are you believing in, and why might you choose not to. in campaign 2, jester’s presence complicated things by pointing out that it isn’t just the divinity of the gods that earns them their power but that belief itself is a kind of divinity and with yasha, caduceus and fjord we see that the role of the gods isn’t just power-granting, it comes to be an essential part of many of those who follow the gods. and in campaign 3, we’ve seen both of those explorations come up but the difficulty is we have none of the perspective of someone who actually believes — even fcg was new to worship couldn’t offer much insight on what the loss of the gods might do to people who believe in the gods not because they grant power but because like jester they were lonely and the found a friend in one, or if like yasha they were lost and were saved by one, or if like fjord the asked for help and were aided by one. to be clear i don’t think this a weakness of the story being told — i think it’s a particularly interesting aspect of bh’s position, but i do think it weakens the perspectives of thinkers like ashton who haven’t even heard what a god means to some people, let alone taken seriously the pain that losing the gods would constitute for countless people.

so, ashton might be particularly charged against the gods — even to the point of being the only one to outright make a noise of disagreement when it’s brought up that while bells hells disagree on specifics, they all agree on saving the gods — and he has plenty of reasons to have that position that can easily result in the audience going, yeah, i understand why he’s made that judgement. but that is not the same as hearing what ashton has said and going (with all the knowledge we the audience have that ashton does not) “he’s right, actually” when there are two campaigns telling you, explicitly, “he’s not.” and this isn’t me saying things can’t be revealed that complicate or recontextualize knowledge from previous campaigns, i’m just saying that, thus far, if anything, campaign 3 (especially downfall) has only cemented the degree to which the prime deities have to believe in mortals.

truly the first thought i had when i heard ashton say his line about the gods praying to mortals instead was the fact that several of his party members received a vision from the raven queen asking for help, that fcg asked the changebringer if she was scared and she said yes, that earthbreaker groon looked at imogen and saw her self-doubt And the belief that bells hells has in her anyway and kord reached through him to tell imogen that she had the potential for greatness and that the gods are counting on her. the prime deities have long been praying to mortals, they believe in the power of mortals (for good and ill) — that’s exactly what downfall was about. the power that gods still have is entirely mediated by the mortals who believe in them, who choose to believe in them. the power of mortals does not have those bounds, and while that doesn’t mean they get to sling 9th level spells at will and multiply their damage by 10, it does mean that, in this particular moment in exandria, ludinus’ power is a much more likely (and, historically and contextually proven) source of injustice than the prime deities.

beyond the magic limitations and considering the ill-fitting metaphor of the gods as being a position of power in a sociopolitical sense, the distance of the gods means that if they want to manipulate people into maintaining their position, it’s quite difficult to do. in comparison with ludinus “cult tactics” da’leth, it strikes me as odd when the parts of the cr audience react to the prime deities doing things like . allowing mortals agency (which, as every existentialist writer ever has correctly pointed, out is both a burden and gift) as if it is actually a long-con manipulation or something.

anyway, TL:DR, ashton is an a interesting character whose beliefs and ideas make sense given his placement in the story and their experiences, but an audience who has seen campaigns 1-3 and says they agree with him with their whole chest should definitely consider either a) rewatching or b) taking a critical thinking or media literacy class

#cr spoilers #ashton greymoore #cr fandom #critical role #cr3 #the prime deities #vox machina

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redflagshipwriter · 6 months ago

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Red Hot Ghouls chapter 11 2/2

Masterpost

He leaned back a little.

There was a very strange silence. Jack’s face initially turned to fury, then a shocked contemplation. Jason waited it out and wondered if he was going to get in trouble for shooting a civilian in genuine self defense.

“Son.” Jack’s voice was grave. “You’re not Jeremy Waters, are you?”

It took a moment to parse through the immediate offense that this guy had busted his cover and to actually register the full name.

Oh, fuck. That Jeremy? The cult guy? Jason made a face involuntarily. “I am not,” he admitted. Oof. Fuck. Here it goes. “I lied because I wanted to be sure you would meet with me.”

“...Honey!” Jack shouted. He shot up in an alarmingly fast motion for such a big man. “Uh, change of plans! Why don’t you get what we all drink on movie nights?”

Something broke in the other room. “Oh, dear,” said Dr. Fenton. “Just a moment.” A vacuum started up. What the actual fuck was going on in there?

“You thought I was that creep?” Jason said blankly. “What were you going to do?” What sounded like a high pressure hose started up in the other room. He had to deliberately decide not to hunch his shoulders defensively. Jesus fucking christ. They were definitely mad scientists.

Jack Fenton looked shifty. “...Talk,” he tried.

Jason looked at the older man. He didn’t say anything. Jack gradually began to look sheepish but he didn’t break.

“Don't worry about it, honey,” Madeleine Fenton said. She set down three alarmingly green glasses and gave him a close-lipped smile.

Jason was very much going to worry about it. He looked between the two of them.

“Melon soda!” Jack Fenton cheered, obviously overreacting to get out of the conversation. He put both his hands up in the air and then grabbed at his glass. “Yummy! So good for growing young men, drink up.” He laughed awkwardly and then buried his face in his own drink.

Meanwhile, Dr. Madeline Fenton looked at him with catlike consideration. She clearly wanted to see him drink the soda.

He was pretty sure they'd been planning to get rid of Jeremy Waters, permanently. Mixed feelings on that, since Waters clearly sucked. He’d human trafficked Jason to the afterlife, after all. On the other hand, you can’t assume someone is chill when you know they want to kill someone. “No thank you,” he said to the melon soda, stomach a little queasy. Even if Jack was drinking it. And the glasses were identical.

“That’s fair,” Dr. Fenton said and sank into the couch cushion next to her husband. “So, you were interested in learning about the Ghost Zone and the afterlife?” She exchanged a meaningful look with her husband. “Any… particular reason?”

These people were intense when they goggled at a guy.

“Nothing I’m ready to talk about yet,” he evaded. It had the advantage of being true. He didn’t know how Jack made him yet.

They proceeded to have a somewhat tense conversation where the Fentons happily elaborated on all their current research and repeated, “I’m sorry, but we’ve withdrawn that work and won’t discuss it,” whenever he mentioned a publication from before 5 years ago. They’d even gone and gotten a lot of their stuff redacted. They talked and talked until Jason’s throat was hoarse. The Drs. Fenton were a brick wall on those topics that he couldn’t bust or wheedle past.

‘What does a person who posts about ghosts on their family blog think to redact?’ Jason wondered.

Eventually, Jack held up both hands. “It’s bothering me that you won’t drink anything,” he admitted. “Let’s go the Nasty!”

“Good idea, honey,” Dr. Fenton agreed. She stood and swung keys around her finger. “I’ll drive!”

Jack Fenton let out a dramatic “Awww, honey bunches,” and followed her around wheedling for a chance to get behind the wheel.

“No, we don’t want to scare our guest.” Dr. Fenton was immovable. A bit ominous as well.

Jason thought about pointing out that he hadn’t agreed to come with them, but he stood up anyways. It wasn’t like he could just sit on their couch and watch them leave their own house.

He had his first inkling of how badly he’d initially fucked up on that phone call when they got outside. Jack pulled the canvas off the family van with a flourish to reveal an absolutely horrific mural of Danny the ghost king giving gifts to humanity. There was text explaining his generosity, scrolling across the bottom of the van.

Jason stood stock still in horror.

The van gave off the same general impression as psychedelic howling wolf print art.

Jason put a hand over his mouth and tried to process it.

Danny’s white hair floated nobly across a few more feet than Jason was pretty sure it should. He was also kinda built in this painting compared to reality and he looked more… kingly. Not that Danny wasn’t in shape, but he was built more like Dr. Fenton than Jack Fenton, if that made sense.

Wait. Why’d he made that comparison? That should have been a frame of reference for Danny Fenton, not Danny the ghost king. …Was the ghost king basing his form off the Fenton’s kid?

“Come on, son!” Jack slapped him on the back. The force was enough to jar Jason forward and out of his dissociative state.

He moved numbly. ‘Alright, they like Danny king,’ Jason managed to think through the wound to his artistic soul. ‘I can be honest with them about the problem. They’ll want to help him get a spiritual separation from some sketchy guy who lied to them.’

They took him to a mid-tier burger restaurant with weird pretensions. The burge had both garlic aioli and shitty neon nacho cheese sauce on it. Jason picked at it for a while, disturbed and pleased by the unexpected combination.

They got back into their discussion. The next time a Fenton asked him a question, he cleared his throat and put down what was left of his burger. “I asked about Phantom because I’m in a little bit of trouble with him.”

It was weird to call him Phantom when he’d introduced himself as Danny. On the other hand, the Fentons also had a kid named Danny, so it was probably for the best.

Jack’s smile faltered. “What kind of trouble, sport?”

Jason shifted in his chair. “I uh. I may have gotten in Waters’ way. I didn’t know who he was,” he admitted. “Next thing I knew, I was in this green place?” He made a confused hand gesture. “Few minutes later, Phantom shows up, kinda pissy, asked if I did it on purpose, and then says that Waters basically.” He stopped to clear his throat. “Spiritually married us to each other.” His voice got a bit smaller than he meant it to.

That meant there was no audio competition for the loud crack when Madeline Fenton broke the table.

“Jesus fuck,” Jason said, looking at her with wide eyes. “Is your hand-”

She put her elbows on top of the tabletop that still existed and cupped her chin on her palms. “Tell me more.”

“You’re a handsome boy, aren’t you,” said Jack consideringly. “Maddie, honeybunches, d’you know, I was thinking about tracking down the Wishiewish ghostie again today. D’you think-”

“Oh, he should absolutely come with you,” Dr. Fenton agreed. She was beaming. It… did not feel villainous.

‘Why did telling them that make her less scary all of a sudden?’

“What do you like about Phantom? Do you think he’s cute? Was he nice to you?”

Maybe she was just a romantic.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main #red hot ghouls

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pickingupmymercedes · 24 days ago

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Longer than I care to admit 1/3 - Lewis Hamilton

A special trilogy part of 1K Jukebox Event

Longer than I care to admit (pt.1) | Even when I said I didn't (pt.2) | When hating you was all I wanted (pt.3).

song: You're in love - Taylor Swift

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: there's angst but it'll be worth it (promise)

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

This city never truly slept, and neither did its people.

That’s one of the things I’ve learned to accept about Los Angeles, the way it hums even in the dead of night. The cars, the voices, the low bass thumping from the hills—it all reminds me that everyone here is chasing something.

Fame, money, love, escape.

Me though? I’m just chasing quietness.

“Do you want to take the canyon road?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road but sneaking a glance at Lewis. He looks good, but that’s nothing new.

The man could wear a potato sack and make it look like part of his Dior collection.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low, like the weight of the city is still clinging to him. “Let’s get away from all this.”

I nod, not bothering to fill the silence. We’ve been driving for twenty minutes already, leaving the lights and noise behind.

It’s funny—most people would think Lewis would crave excitement all the time, but moments like this prove otherwise. He likes the quiet.

Craves it, even.

And honestly? I do too.

But I know what this drive really is. It’s his way of sitting with whatever’s been on his mind lately.

He’s been doing that a lot more these days, sitting with things.

It’s the way he glances at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention, the thoughtful silences that stretch just a bit longer than usual. I can feel him realizing it, slowly but surely.

It’s the casual comments he drops—“You’d love Europe this time of year” or “My house in Monaco’s been too quiet without you”—that hang in the air a beat too long.

Indirect invitations, nudges toward a conversation I keep dodging.

He doesn’t push. But he’s persistent in his own way. A suitcase for me always in the trunk, Roscoe’s bed permanently stationed in the corner of my living room.

He’s falling deeper.

We’re falling deeper.

And that scares the hell out of me.

“Do you ever stop thinking?” I finally ask, breaking the silence. I don’t look at him, but I know he’s smiling. I can feel it.

“Just enjoying the drive,” he says, his voice light but not convincing.

“You? Enjoying a drive when you’re not behind the wheel? That’s a plot twist.” I say with a snort.

He chuckles, and it warms the space between us. “I don’t mind when it’s you.”

“Charmer” I tease.

He laughs, a deep, rich sound that makes me smile. “For you. Always”

“Right” I say, glancing at him with a playful smirk.

But as we keep driving, I feel his gaze linger on me longer.

And I know that look. It’s the same one that’s been sneaking up on me more often these days. It’s soft and thoughtful, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s love.

Scratch that. I do know better. And that’s the problem.

“What’s that look for?” I ask, breaking the tension before it drowns me.

“Just thinking” he says softly.

I raise an eyebrow. “About?”

“How lucky I am that you’re a decent driver.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but smile. “Ridiculous.”

But deep down, I know he’s deflecting, just like I am.

In a while we pull into a small lookout point, one of those hidden gems you only find if you know where to look. The city stretches out below us, a million lights twinkling under a blanket of stars.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I say, cutting the engine. My eyes on the view, although I can feel him watching me.

“Yeah” he murmurs.

There’s a weight to his voice, and I know he’s not talking about the view.

He does this sometimes, makes me feel like the only thing in the world worth looking at. It’s overwhelming.

Too much and not enough, all at once.

“Sometimes I forget how nice it is to just stop and take it all in,” I say, trying to ground myself.

He nods, but the tension between us doesn’t ease. If anything, it gets worse, wrapping around us in the silence.

I know he’s waiting. Waiting for the right moment to say something. To let the weight of whatever’s on his mind finally spill out.

The drive back is quieter, the kind of silence that isn’t uncomfortable but still carries weight. When we finally pull into my driveway, I sigh. “Home sweet home,” I say lightly, though there’s a flicker of reluctance in my chest.

We go through the motions—shoes off, keys on the counter, jackets draped over chairs. It’s familiar, easy.

And that’s one of the things that scares me the most. How easy it’s all become.

“Do you ever just go straight to bed?” Lewis asks, leaning against the bathroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest like he owns the place.

Spoiler: he kind of does.

I couldn’t even count anymore the times he’d left LA swearing he wouldn’t come back, wouldn’t let himself do it again.

And every time, he found himself at my door again. My home feeling more like his than anywhere else.

His clothes hanging in my closet. Roscoe’s leash by the kitchen counter. Even his scent clinged to the sheets long after he’d left.

I smirk as I peel off my clothes, not bothering to be modest. “You know the answer to that.”

“Yeah, I do,” he says, his eyes trailing over me, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “Still find it funny, like the bed will disappear if you don’t shower first.”

I grab my towel and give him a pointed look. “I don’t like feeling gross when I sleep. Some of us have standards, Hamilton.”

He chuckles, stepping aside as I head into the shower. “Standards, huh? And yet you still let me in your bed.”

I laugh as I step under the water. “Barely.”

When I come out, wrapped in one of his old T-shirt, that still smells faintly of him, I find him already in bed, scrolling through his phone, naked chest and tattoo on full display.

His braids are loose and the soft glow of the screen highlights his features in a way that makes my heart squeeze.

“Feel better?” he asks without looking up.

“Much,” I reply, but instead of getting into bed, I head for the door. “Be right back. Tea?”

He smiles. “Always.”

A few minutes later, I return with two mugs, handing him one before settling in beside him.

My feet, as usual, find his legs, and he groans. “Jesus, Y/n, your feet are freezing.”

“Don’t be a baby,” I tease, taking a sip of my tea. “You’re warm enough for both of us.”

I need the joke to deflect how I knew exactly how he liked his tea, down to the perfect balance of milk and sugar.

It was such a small thing, but yet, I knew it hit him every time.

We sit in comfortable silence, his arm around me, my head resting on his chest. His heartbeat is steady, grounding me in a way nothing else really does.

“Early flight tomorrow?” I ask, my voice casual.

“Yeah.”

I nod, my gaze dropping to my tea.

The words sit heavy on my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to say them.

Not yet. Not until he does.

So instead, I just lean into him, letting the steady rise and fall of his chest lull me into a sense of safety as he presses a soft kiss to the top of my head.

Someday, I think. Someday, I’ll be brave enough.

Just not tonight.

_____________________________________________________________

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ravcnism · 6 months ago

Text

STRIKEOUT. ( PART 2 ) — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER

Summary: An after-party. A conversation-turned-confrontation. Kenji finally meets the esteemed Toyo Bullet and struggles to define the difference between anger, terror, and infatuation.

# # TAGS: Even More Tension, Kenji Has a Good Relationship with His Team, Intense First Encounter, Domestic Sato Family Shenanigans

# # WARNINGS: Mature Language, Alcohol Consumption, Nothing Too Crazy, No Beta Again We Die Like Onda

Note: Okay, here we go: the actual second part. Again, I am so sorry for accidentally publishing my draft earlier — I am ill with embarrassment. But I’m very happy to know that people look forward to it! If you read the false-post, then you’ve only read half of the chapter. This one has over 3000 words more! Enjoy.

“It was a nail-biter of a game here at the New Tokyo stadium tonight, folks. Right off the bat, both teams were going neck and neck, toe-to-toe. And it seemed like neither one was willing to give an inch! Our home team managed to pull off a narrow victory in the end, and by narrow, I mean narrow, Kiba.”

“That is absolutely right, Sasaki. I truly have never seen anything like it in my entire career. And you know- you know I know a lot of baseball. You know I’ve been doing this for many years, but wow! Just- insane.”

“Truly a close call. Eight additional innings? To break the tie? I cannot believe it. Let me tell you, neither the Hiroshima Toyo Carp nor the Yomiuri Giants wanted to lose today.”

“If you look at the crowd, It looks like everyone’s been wanting to go home.”

Exhausted was an understatement. Kenji hadn’t felt this drained after a game since, well, only months ago: when he was still juggling the responsibilities of raising a baby Kaiju, carrying the weight of being Ultraman, and maintaining his reputation as a well-known baseball player. All of these, on top of the sleepless nights, no longer hindered him from his work. He usually left the stadium feeling brand new every single time — regardless of whether they won or lost. He had grown and learned to lean on people, to ask for help, accept defeat. Which was good and all that, but the point was: he was exhausted from this game. You had him panting for air like an overworked dog.

Shimura had Kenji on the field for longer than he should have been. While his younger, more egotistical self might have loved his moment in the spotlight, running base to base for six innings in a row was unsurprisingly really tiring. The teams had hit a clean tie by the ninth inning, and the tie-breaker lasted for eight more. You were eating their rookies alive and having their journeymen for dessert. When Shimura realized that Sato was the only one batting your pitches, he had him play for every round after the tie. The only times Kenji wasn’t on the field was when you weren’t either. Which wasn’t a lot. It scared him how you looked like you could throw that ball for days.

“Hiroshima’s L/n is just- an absolute unit, isn’t he?”

“He certainly is, Kiba. He certainly is. I mean his performance was near inhuman tonight. Each pitch was a gem and we- he really wanted us to know that he’s here, he’s ready, and he’s willing to change Japanese baseball. He was a major force out there on the field.”

“I cannot agree with you more. But credit where credit is due, we all know that the only reason the Giants are coming home with tonight’s win is because of none other than Ken Sato himself.”

“That’s right, Sato really put up a fight. L/n was throwing him off balance every time, but he always found his footing. I think tonight might have been the hardest I’ve seen him work. You know he- he usually makes his plays look effortless — disregarding last season’s slump.”

“I say he held his own very, very impressively. The team was right to rely on him. I know we’ve spoken a lot about their tension, but I’d say it’s their dynamic that really drove the point home. They were like- mirrors of each other out there. When you put two equal forces together, they deflect. You know what I’m saying?”

Kenji’s hand shook with a weakness he wasn’t familiar with. He stared at his calloused palm and noticed his fingers twitching. Shit. It really was some game. He might have been hitting the ball, but he was barely getting it through the field. Not only were your pitches fast, but there was weight to them, too. He was witnessing the caliber of your capabilities; understanding why you were the talk of every city.

The rest of the Giants came walking into the locker room, jeering and laughing amongst themselves. “That L/n is a real piece of work, ain't he?” Shirakumo, number 24, sat himself next to Kenji, unlacing his shoe. “Never seen anything like it.”

“Did you see the look on Tateoka’s face?” Yuki laughed, smacking his thigh. “Dude was scared shitless!”

“Hey!” Tateoka frowned in reply, tugging his jersey off his arms. “You try standing in front of that guy and telling me you don't feel a little threatened.” He shuddered, remembering the look in your eyes. Dark and pointed and menacing. “He was staring me down like he was gonna—”

“Eat you alive?” Kenji scoffed.

The team went silent, then erupted into a cluster of teasing ‘oooh’s. God. It reminded him of highschool.

“Oohh, yeah.” Yamada, number 21, slid over to him with a teasing tone. He wrapped an arm around Kenji’s shoulder and squeezed him closer. “I don't think I've ever seen Sato so shaken!”

He laughed, playfully pushing him away. He was also actually really sore on that shoulder. Hell, he could already feel the pain he’d need to go through just to get up tomorrow. He was going to need another ice bath. The rest of the boys jumped in on the jokes.

“Did you see the way he was looking at you Ken?” Tokuda opened his locker, grabbing a shirt from the top shelf. He whistled. “Like he wanted your head on a plate.”

Tanaka chuckled. “He wanted you dead, man!”

Kenji rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Let's not get carried away. I never said I was shaken.”

“But that last bat was sweet as hell.” Yuki nodded. “I doubt any of us would've gotten through the guy if it weren't for Sato.”

“Well, duh.” Shirakumo shrugged. None of the Giants denied it. Ken was their star player. And tonight proved it more than ever. “We owe you for drinks, bud. Give us a date and we'll treat ya’ to someplace you like.” He slapped Ken’s back affectionately, which elicited a pained groan. “Shit, sorry.”

Kenji’s watch started beeping. He flinched at the sound, eyes widening slightly. “Uh, see you in a sec, guys. I gotta take this.”

He was there a moment, then gone the next. Kenji rushed himself out the hallways and into an empty locker room to answer Mina’s call. “Hey!” he greeted, anxiously. A screen projected itself from his watch and lit up his face. “Hey. Hi. What's wrong? Everyone alright? I know I said I'd be home soon, but the game took way longer than–”

He was interrupted by cheering. His father clapped and whooped with excitement as Emi occupied the background, screeching with glee. Kenji could see the ground shaking as she was jumping around and doing her special dance. One of Mina’s arms was protruding from the wall and waving celebratory flags. It immediately put a smile on his face, easing the tension from his shoulders. He was always happy to see everyone alright, and even happier to see them as their silly selves.

“Kenji!” cheered Hayao. “That was an incredible game! You were unstoppable!” The professor chuckled. Emi picked him up into a hug, slightly toppling the camera over. His legs swung like a ragdoll’s. “Okay, okay girl-”

Ken laughed, slightly shaking his head. “Easy, Emi. Put Grandpa down.”

“It was a very impressive game, Ken. Perhaps one of your bests.” Mina’s calculative yet affectionate voice echoed from his watch.

Hayao fell to the floor with an ‘oof’. “You didn't tell me you were playing against THEE Mets’ Bullet!” He scrambled to stand up, barely leaning on his cane. “I wasn’t even aware that he was signed into the Carp!”

Kenji’s smile immediately faded. “Okay.” He rolled his eyes. “He was alright, I guess. And we don’t actually know if he signed into it or if he was traded. We barely heard anything about him from the press.”

“Alright?” Professor Sato gasped, appalled. “Kenji, he was spectacular! He’s a lot like you, you know. I’ve always suspected that the both of you equalled in skill, but to see it in action? Phew.” He wiped some pretend sweat off of his forehead. “What a show! Eight extra innings to break a tie? Unbelievable! I highly doubt that he was traded. Who in their right mind would purposely lose a player like that?”

Kenji scoffed. “He wasn’t that good.” His sore limbs would like to say otherwise.

“He had you chasing after his pitches like a dog!”

“I don’t like that analogy.”

“I ought’ to rewatch that documentary they made about him. You know they’ve done studies on the physics of his throws.”

“Dad.”

“And how fortunate for Hiroshima to have gotten him out of all teams! I can tell that this season is going to turn around really fast. Just today he’s already scored-”

“Dad!”

“Oh. Sorry.” Hayao chuckled. “I’m just very excited to see the both of you on the same field.” Kenji sighed, nodding his head. “Anyway, congratulations on the win, my boy. I’m so proud of you. I always am. Get home safe. It may be late, but we still have a lot of leftovers from dinner!” Emi made a noise that let him know she was waiting, too.

Going home sounded like heaven. Ken wanted nothing more but to rest. Maybe kick back and have a chocolate shake while he and his family watched cartoons to fall asleep. It was the perfect way to end his night. It had been an unexpectedly long day and he looked forward to tomorrow’s well-earned break. Eight extra innings might even win him a second day of rest. Or a third, if Shimura agreed not to schedule him for the next game. Which, he doubted, if it meant you’d be playing.

“I’m on my way.” He ended the call, and opted to take the fastest way out, desperate to avoid the press.

Ken collapsed onto the floor, snuggling into Emi’s arm. Having washed up and eaten his dinner, he felt the last remains of his adrenaline-fueled strength die out like a dwindling flame. He felt as if his limbs were about to fall off. “Ugh,” he groaned. “I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.” Emi didn’t much care. She seemed to be preoccupied by the new ( gigantic ) stacking blocks that Mina made for her. Ken sighed, sinking deeper into her arm. “She always smells so good after her baths.” The baby Kaiju’s warm and heavy grasp felt like a weighted blanket. It was a comfort that Ken would find nowhere else.

Professor Sato walked past them, chuckling into his coffee mug. “That, she does. You should have seen her earlier, you know. I’ve never seen her so invested in a game.”

Kenji hummed. “Is that right?” He rolled onto his stomach, facing Emi. “Hey. Baby.” He poked her cheek. “Is that true? Did you cheer for Daddy? I bet you did.” Giving into his cuteness aggression he rubbed at her cheeks. Emi expressed her annoyance through a small squeak. “God, that mean old Bullet had Daddy running laps, didn’t he? We hate him, don’t we?” Kenji pushed her cheeks up and down, leading her into a nod. “Yes we dooo.”

Professor Sato laughed. “Whatever happened to sportsmanship?”

“Whatever happened to loyalty?” He pouted. “My own father, rooting against me. I would never root against you, Emi.” Wanting to return to her blocks, Emi lifted Kenji up by his torso and placed him on her head. The batter laughed, laying on her with no protest.

“What!” The professor exclaimed. “I never said I was rooting against you. I was just— feeling enthusiastic, that’s all. For both teams.”

Mina entered the room, her mechanisms humming faintly. “Good evening, everyone.” The Sato’s greeted her accordingly. “I have a message for Ken.”

The mentioned Ken slumped into his daughter, rolling his eyes. “Here we go. I bet it’s the press.” He scoffed. “Let me guess, at least 30 emails asking for my statement. Or, better yet, it’s Shimura warning me not to miss the next game.” He raised his fist, mocking a reporter’s tone: “We’ve witnessed baseball history tonight, folks! Blah, blah, blah.”

“Actually, it’s an invitation for something else.” Mina hovered closer. “An event.”

This caught his attention. Kenji tilted his head. “For what?”

“A party, hosted by various sponsors.”

��Bit too early for an afterparty, don’t you think?” Ken sighed, resting his head on folded arms. “We’ve only won one game.”

“I suppose it’s to celebrate Mr. L/n as well.” Mina would shrug if she had the shoulders to do so. “His coming to Japan is quite a big deal.”

“Great.” Kenji was half-asleep by then, eyes already closed. “All the more reason for me not to go.” The professor had settled himself onto one of the desks, getting into some light reading. Emi had grown tired herself, and decided that she was not interested in the blocks anymore. Waddling to her spot, (with Kenji still on her head), she yawned, and opted for some much-needed sleep.

Mina’s light blinked. “I think you should go, Ken.”

The rightfielder cracked one eye open. “And why would I do that?”

“I think it would benefit you to interact with Mr. L/n more.”

“Mina, that’s literally the last thing I want.”

“Is it?”

Ken frowned. “What do you mean, ‘is it’? Of course it is.”

“Your vitals seemed to say otherwise earlier.”

Kenji scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I was keeping careful watch of your vitals, as I always do. I have your daily status tracked and recorded.”

Kenji couldn't get rid of Mina’s voice in his head. Even amidst the warm crowd, with chatter swaying smoothly atop of light r&b music, he felt as if he could still hear her words ringing in the back of his mind. It remained vivid, though she had told it to him days ago. It was as clear as day. Like a broken record.

“Believe it or not, the heart beats differently for every emotion. There is a difference between fear, anxiety, excitement, and—”

Kenji stared at you from across the room, watching as you conversed with your team, nursing a glass of cold, hard whiskey. He watched as you bowed your head and smiled, listening for the faint, muffled sound of your laughter. He wondered what you were talking about; what joke might have made you grin that hard. He wondered why you seemed to illuminate a room, and why everyone seemed so drawn. His eyes were caught in the way the colorful lights sank into your hair.

“—Infatuation.”

You looked up, and your eyes met his. Kenji flinched. He felt his heart skip a beat. Shit, he thought. Mina was definitely going to catch that. She had probably already marked it down to tease him for it later. You held his gaze for longer than he could have standed and greeted him with that same annoying wink. The same one you gave him on the field. Confident, snarky, playful. You lifted your glass and took a sip, eyes still trained on his.

“What you may perceive as frustration for him might just be the opposite.”

Kenji's jaw clenched. Mina had no idea what she was talking about.

And he would prove her wrong tonight.

Like a soldier marching into battle, he waded through the party to make his way towards you. Was he intimidated? Yes. Unfortunately, he was. But he knew his way around a crowd, and his weapon-of-a-tongue knew all the right talk to make a conversation work. He was sociable like that. He was a poet, a wordsmith. If you weren't careful, one little exchange could have you wrapped around his finger. Some people called it his charisma, some blamed it on his irresistible good looks. Either way, Ken took it. He wasn't going to deny the fact that people loved talking to him — though he, admittedly, didn't really like talking to them in return. But he could do it. He could make it work.

Besides, how bad could you be?

With a newfound confidence, Ken dared to get closer. The distance between you and him lessened, and– oh, fuck, was that your cologne? He blinked. You smelled so good. Why did you smell so good? “Hey. Hi.” Shit. Abort mission. No, it's too late. Too awkward to back out. You were already looking at him. “L/n, yeah?” He spoke your name like he only just remembered you upon seeing you. When in truth, he hadn't stopped thinking about you since that damn first pitch. “Some game, huh?” Ken held his hand out for you to shake. ‘Fuck, I hope he doesn't notice how clammy it is.’

“Ken Sato.” It was the first time he heard your voice, as well as the first time he heard you say his name. He didn't like how his body reacted. There was a small shiver down his spine, a tingling flutter in his chest. You took his hand. Yours was cold. So cold. Kenji concluded that the icy glass of whiskey you had placed on the counter was to blame. He could feel your callouses against his. Your hands mirrored one another, marked with the battlescars of your sport. He was oddly sensitive to every detail. Touching you was.. a sensation.

You gave him a firm shake before promptly letting go.

“That's me,” he said, miraculously. Ken was oscillating between panic and confidence at a speed that likely wasn't normal. He was holding his own, though. Like the real champ he was. It was surreal to be standing in front of you without a ball to keep you apart. No bat, no competition. Just you, and a few shots of alcohol. “You adjusting into Japan alright?”

“As well as I can.” You shrugged. You had a tone to you; an elegant air of grace and self-assurance. You had no need to raise your voice because you knew he'd do his best to listen. It was pissing him off. “It's definitely different from the States.”

“I gotta say, I'm pretty surprised to see you here.” Ken usually knew what to say when it came to conversations. He never blanked out at interviews, nor left dead air hanging at conferences. But speaking with you made him feel like his vocabulary was on a limit. “After a game like that?” He whistled. “A lesser man would've taken a week off.”

“But we're not lesser men, are we, Ken?” A waitress passed by. Without the need to look, you had grabbed two shots of vodka from her tray. You handed the other one to him. “That's why you're here, too.”

He stared at you, brows furrowed slightly. “Exactly.” He took the shot from your hand and bumped the rim against yours. “Cheers.”

You grinned. “Cheers.”

Kenji tilted his head back, downing his drink, tasting the fire run down his throat. His face screwed up a little, but not enough for you to notice. You did the same, sighing the heat out of your nose. You allowed a small laugh to slip past your lips. “Japan’s liquor is surprisingly stronger.”

Kenji chuckled. “Yeah. If you know where to look.” The music felt like it was growing louder. He leaned in to speak to you better. “You know, I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting.”

You nodded. “Neither can I.”

“The Mets and Dodgers have always been at each other's throats, and yet—”

“Our schedules just never lined up.” You scoffed. “What are the odds of that, huh?”

It really was such a coincidence. If Ken had known that your interactions would've fired the press up as much as it did now, he would've fought to face you sooner. “When was it?” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Playoffs. 2019, I think. The Mets were set to face the Dodgers.”

“2019,” you repeated, brows raised. “I was there.” Kenji took notice of the way your head slightly shifted to the side. Like you were trying to get a better look at him. He swallowed thickly. “I was there.” You shrugged. “You weren't.”

“I was overseas.” He was wanting another drink. But, speaking to you was surprisingly not horrible. “Didn't get back until 3 months in. And when I did—”

“I wasn't there,” you chuckled. “Alright. I remember. 2019, I was gone for half the season. Injury.”

“The world was in shambles.” Ken grinned at you. A second waiter passed by. He grabbed you another glass of whiskey. He took scotch for himself. “See what I mean? It's like– divine intervention.”

“Big word.” To say that fate had a hand to play in yours and his meeting was beyond your beliefs. You didn't place your trust in things like that. But to know that he had thought about it was charming.

“Hey.” Ken shrugged. “Ya’ never know.”

The music shifted, and so did the lights. There was a moment of quiet between the both of you, and in that time, you found a common interest in people-watching. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, nor the absence of something to talk about. The two of you merely agreed upon the minutes it took to watch the party unfold. A good number of the guests were already drunk. The dance floor was alight and occupied mostly by women. Ken rested his weight on one foot, sighing at his still-aching muscles. He wondered if you were any sore too.

“They love it, don't they?” You leaned your back against the counter, arms crossed over your chest. Ken took quick notice of the necklace worn loosely around your neck. A silver dogtag, similar to his. “The drama. The intensity. Even the things that go on beyond the field.”

Ken shrugged. “It's baseball. Who doesn't?”

“Exactly.” You smiled. “Which is why it's important to always let the home team win the first game.”

It took a moment for Kenji to process what you said. He was distracted by the colorful lights, his favorite song coming on, and a tray full of hors d'oeuvres. “Mhm.” He reached over to take one, before— “Wait.” His brows knitted together. “I'm sorry, what?”

“Hm?” You had your lips pressed together into a thin line. Your expression feigned innocence, a stark contrast to your bold statement. “I said it's important to let the home team win the first game.”

Kenji made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. He couldn't believe his ears. Had he been standing by the speakers for too long? “No, I heard what you said. What I'm asking is what you're saying.” It was a dare of a reply, with a tone that commanded: go on. Clarify.

Your smile refused to leave your face. Nearing the batter, ever so carefully, you whispered:

“I'm saying you won because I let you.”

Kenji blinked.

And there it was. He knew you were too good to be true. Goddammit, he knew it! Beneath your seemingly-perfect self was something cold and rotten and he called it. He fucking called it. How thrilled he was to be correct, and oh, how utterly terrified.

But this was good. This was absolutely good. He needed something to hold onto, something to keep himself afloat. The next time he found himself drowning in your eyes again, he'd only need to remember that you were a grade A asshole. That you had the audacity to claim that you were in full control of the game. Surely it would solve all his problems.

Kenji broke out into a laugh. It started out as a small cluster of sarcastic chuckles, but erupted into actual laughter. You were funny. So, so funny. Unbeknownst him, you were watching with amusement. “Because you let me!” Kenji repeated, smiling, but, exasperated. Two can play at that game. “Right. Of course. Totally not because you're an average pitcher and I can bat anything you throw.”

“If that helps you sleep at night.” You shrugged. Your attention wasn't on him anymore. You were watching the crowd, disinterested.

Kenji felt his eye twitch. “That's big talk coming from someone who got struck out by a rookie.” He was referring to the eighth inning, when Tateoka managed to bat your pitch into a homerun.

“That's right, Sato.” You laughed, low and sultry. “Batted by a rookie. How could I have struck you out at the last inning but be batted by a rookie?” You tilted your head at him, brows knitted together. You spoke in a sickeningly soft tone. Like you were helping a toddler understand something simple. “Doesn't seem to make a lot of sense, does it?”

Kenji was growing flustered. His face was warm and his fist was itching to meet your cheek. Nobody spoke to him this way. Sure guys had been mean to him before, but it was mostly because they were threatened by him. They'd tried to put him down and pick apart his flaws, but what you were doing was something different. You weren't claiming that he was weak, you were claiming that you were stronger. You didn't deny the amount of talent that Ken had in his body, but you were fully convinced that you had more. You were bigger, smarter, and better. And you had him under your control.

“Oh, c’mon. Seriously?” God, your voice. It infuriated him. It drove him insane. You leaned in, closer, whispering your words, as if hearing you through the party wasn't hard enough. He could smell the whiskey on your breath. It mingled with your cologne. It was intoxicating. “Are you blushing?”

He scoffed in disbelief. “No.” Except he totally was. He could feel the heat radiating off of his face. His breathing had gone shallow, his heartbeat rapid. “Why would I– Tch. You— You don't know what you're talking about.” Holy shit. He was a mess.

He wanted so desperately to blame it on the alcohol, but he knew damn well he wasn't drunk enough to be acting the way he was. He was stumbling over his words stone-cold sober.

You were smiling. He was dying, and you were smiling. “You amuse me, Sato.”

Ken took a cautious step back, knowing that being that close to you for too long was only going to make him worse. “Who the hell do you think you are, huh?” He had to retaliate somehow. Like a soldier fumbling for his sword, he had to get up and do something. “You don't think I don't know what this is? Where you're heading?”

You tilted your head. “Do enlighten me.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Sure. Celebrity-Athlete from America waltzes into Japan thinking he's the shit— that he can rule the world. He's a shiny new toy and everyone's just dying to catch a look. Nevermind that his old team traded him off, nevermind that he goes home to an empty penthouse. He's got the stats to prove his skills and he thinks he doesn't need anything else.” Ken dared to retake a step forward. He sort of regretted it when you didn't take a step back. “Well, guess what,” he continued. “I've been where you are. I know how you feel, what you're thinking.

Everything you're trying to be is a shadow of what I already was.”

There was a beat of silence. You weren't smiling anymore. You were staring at him, stone-faced, seemingly indifferent.

Kenji narrowed his eyes. “So don't go talking to me like you're any better.”

He didn't know what to expect. You were quiet for such a long time that he thought you were going to snap. He partially expected a punch to the chin. But you were calm. There wasn't a trace of irritation on your face. Instead, you set your glass of whiskey — now empty — on the counter behind you. With a sigh, you shoved a hand in your pocket. “Are you done?”

Kenji blinked.

“Let me tell you something, Sato.” You raised a brow at him. Ken felt his heartbeat pick up again. Your once-approachable gaze shifted into something cold and commanding. He swallowed thickly. “There is a difference between you and me. And that difference is the fact that I don't settle.”

Kenji was glaring at you, brows fixed together.

A teammate called you from the other side of the room. You nodded at him, once, then returned your focus to the Yomiuri Prince. You placed a hand on his shoulder, tauntingly, smiling at him as if you'd known him your whole life. “I hope last season’s slump accustomed you to the feeling of losing those points.”

Kenji wanted to say something, but his lips refused to move. Somehow, the blaring music in the background had faded into a muffled blur. All he could hear was your voice. Like a moth to a flame.

You winked at him. Again. And like before, his body reacted in ways he didn't like. You squeezed his shoulder once, before leaving to go to your friend. With your back turned against him, Kenji released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He clutched his chest, watching wide-eyed as you moved through the crowd. He could still smell your cologne. The last thing he heard from you was,

“I'll see you on the field.”

taglist: @fairy-lenaa @moonjellyfishie @witchygod — Thank you for your patience!

#kenji sato #ken sato x reader #x reader #ultraman rising #ken sato x male reader #kenji sato x male reader

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silverb0wties · 2 months ago

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Lemonade - Part 5

leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah. But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Summary: the aftermath of your concussion

Warnings: pregnancy, self-harm, disordered eating, bullying

a/n: sorry if this chapter is a little bit dark in parts. if you're still reading the series, thanks so much for sticking with me. I appreciate it more than you know.

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 ||

PART 5

You woke up on a plastic bed in a room that smelled like the awful cream your Mummy would rub on her legs after Netball, surrounded by a million different kinds and colours of sellotape.

You could hear voices, and you looked over to the corner of the room to find your Aunty Leah consoling your Aunty Lessi as she cried. She looked distraught, her eyes red and puffy with tears.

“I should have known it would overwhelm her. I was just so excited to share this with her…”

“Babe, she’s going to be okay. We’re still learning all this, yeah?”

“But we’re meant to protect her, and… and I- I…” Aunty Lessi choked on her words before Aunty Leah cut her off.

“And I should have had a tighter grip on her when I saw she was panicking. Like I said, we’re both still learning how to do this. The medics said she’s got a bit of a concussion, but she’ll be alright. We know how concussions work, so we’ve just got to keep our eyes on her and make sure she gets lots and lots of rest.”

There was a quiet knock at the door, before an important looking lady with a clipboard came in.

“Less, sorry but we need to know if you’re going to play the second half or not?” she asked.

As your Aunties turned toward the door, they realised that you were awake.

“Oh Bunny, sweetie, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” your Aunty Lessi rushed over to you, her hands coming down to gently cradle the sides of your head.

You looked up at her a bit stunned, rather confused about why you were where you were and why everyone seemed so upset.

“Does your head hurt? Do you feel sick or dizzy at all?” she asked, her hand softly brushing through your hair.

You tried to think about if you felt sick or dizzy, but all you could really feel was a powerful throbbing rattling through your head. You also felt really, really tired. But you had just woken up, so that could perhaps explain that. You don’t remember going to sleep though, which was starting to concern you.

“I feel okay,” you replied, trying to brush away your Aunty’s concern.

“Alessia, sorry, we need t-” the lady at the door began to ask again.

“I won’t be playing, sorry. My family is more important right now,” Aunty Lessi told her.

“Less, you should go play. I’ll stay with Bunny and make sure she’s-”

Your Aunty Lessi whipped around to face Aunty Leah. “No, Leah. I’m not leaving her. She’s hurt. We’ll get a car to take us back to the training centre so we can go home early,” she insisted firmly.

Aunty Leah replied with a sad smile and a nod. “I’ll go get our stuff packed up then, yeah?”

“I’m okay Aunty Lessi, you should play!” you tried to insist.

“No Bunny, there would be no point in me playing anyways. I would be so distracted out there and worrying about you I would probably kick the ball into the wrong goal by mistake.”

By the time you finally got back home that night, your head was still pounding and you were struggling to stay awake. You were trying your hardest to be big and brave and pretend like you were okay, but as soon as you stepped into bath, your whole façade fell apart. As the warm water lapped at your tense muscles, which you now realised you’d been clenching in an effort to distract from the pain in your head, your resolve melted and you began to weep.

You brought your knees up to your chest and dropped your head forward, your hands entwining at the back of your head as your little body shook with each sob. The tears and jagged breaths only intensified the pain in your head though, which in turn caused more tears and jagged breaths. You tried your hardest to stay as quiet as possible, but you were aware that your cries were becoming increasingly vocal.

There was soon a soft knock at the door, followed by your Aunty Lessi’s voice. Whilst making sure you still got clean and dressed, your Aunties had always tried to give you your privacy while bathing and dressing, which you appreciated. They were your Aunties, but it still felt weird being undressed around people who weren’t your parents.

“Bunny? Are you okay?” she called through the closed door.

“It hurts” you cried in response.

“What hurts honey?”

“Everything. My head hurts most.”

“How about we give you some medicine to make it hurt less, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“And then we can get you to bed, and you can try and get some rest, alright?”

“Okay.”

There was a short pause. You’d assumed your Aunty had gone away to get the medicine, but then you heard her voice again.

“Bun, you don’t always have to try and be big and brave y’know? If you’re hurting, you can tell us. Always. I promise you won’t be in trouble or we won’t make fun of you or anything. We just want you to feel okay.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t fully believe her. You wanted to, but a part of you still believed that there was only so much love and affection to go around and you needed to space that out at least until Lemonade arrived. You didn’t want to use it all up on this incident.

So you tried your hardest to push the pain down and away as you quickly washed yourself. You managed to get yourself up and out of the bath and wrapped in a towel before there was a knock at the door again.

“You can come in,” you mumbled, making sure the towel was secured tightly under your arms.

Your Aunty Lessi entered with a little cup filled with pink medicine and a cup of water. She kneeled down to your height as she offered it to you.

“Now it says strawberry flavoured on the bottle, so hopefully it won’t taste too bad.”

You gingerly took the cup and gulped the medicine down, wincing at the distinctly fake strawberry taste. You quickly grabbed the cup of water from your Aunty’s other hand and skulled that down to wash away the lingering flavour.

“Good job, Bun. Now let’s get you into your PJ’s and into bed, yeah?”

By the time you were under the covers, arms tightly wrapped around your beloved Arthur, the pain in your head had dulled to only a mild ache.

“Goodnight sweet girl” your Aunty Lessi whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Night Aunty Lessi” you mumbled back.

It was the first time you slept through the night without waking up to a nightmare since the fire.

You woke up to the smell of Aunty Lessi’s lasagne wafting through the house. However, as you opened your eyes and came to your senses, you immediately panicked.

You were not in your own bed.

You were in your Aunties bed.

You had no idea how you’d come to be in their bed. The last thing you remembered you were lying on the floor in the loungeroom studying one of the books the Arsenal girls had given you about football. You were trying to understand where all the different positions were on the pitch and what responsibilities each position had. You had been figuring out the difference between a centre-back and a full-back when you had… fallen asleep.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Whilst it had been a few days now since your accident and you’d had a couple of days off school and your head no longer hurt, you were still feeling extra extra tired from your concussion. You’d spent most of that day at school trying to hide your yawns from your teacher and classmates. When you’d been given some free time after finishing one of your activities ahead of the rest of the class, the same group of students that always seemed to catch you at your weakest had caught you dozing off in the corner of the room where you’d been reading. They’d tied your shoelaces together and were starting to draw on your arm when you woke up. You hadn’t realised they’d also put rolled up pieces of paper in your hair braid until your Aunty Leah pointed them out when she picked you up.

You’d tried to brush it off and said it was just a game all the kids were playing with each other, but the concerned frown your Aunty gave you implied she didn’t quite believe your lie.

“You know you can tell us if there’s anything going wrong at school, yeah? If anyone’s picking on you or calling you names or anything?”

You just nodded. There was no way you would ever tell your Aunties what was really happening at school. You would just deal with it like a big girl. Push through. Be brave. They had bigger things to worry about than some kids putting paper in your hair and saying mean things. Your Aunty Leah was growing a human AND mending her busted knee for heaven’s sake! You could deal with some silly paper in your hair.

When you’d got back to the house, you went straight to your room to undo your braid and pluck all the little pieces of paper from your hair. You’d counted them (23 in total) before scrunching them up and throwing them in the little wastepaper basket beside your desk.

As the paper hit the basket, a tiny ball of raging heat began bubbling in your chest. You didn’t know what to do with it or how to describe it, but it made you want to stomp your feet and hit a wall and scratch at your skin. You’d never been the best at describing emotions, but you were pretty certain this wasn’t sadness. Perhaps, this was anger? Frustration? Disappointment?

The tiny ball continued to bubble and grow as you lunged for your bed where Arthur lay. You attempted desperately to use your tried and tested method of rubbing his ear against your cheek to calm the feeling, and whilst it felt nice, it did nothing to soothe your need to stomp or hit or scratch.

You searched your room urgently for something else to ease the searing heat in your chest, even gulping down the remnants of a cup of water on your bedside table. But nothing worked. You needed to stomp or hit or scratch. You knew couldn’t stomp your feet or hit a wall, because that would be loud, and your Aunty would hear and come ask what was wrong. So, you decided to scratch.

You had to pick somewhere not too visible so that if you left a mark, nobody would see and ask what happened. So, you tugged up the hem of your school dress and pushed down your tights and began scratching at the skin at the top of your right thigh.

The relief was instant.

The second your nails dug into your flesh, the little ball of heat in your chest began to cool. You scratched and scratched, and scratched some more until it finally, finally disappeared. By the time you eventually stopped, your skin was stinging, and your fingers were cramping. But the little ball of heat was gone, and that was all that mattered.

There was a gentle knock on the door as you speedily pulled your tights back up, wincing as they brushed against your newly tender skin.

Your Aunty Leah popped her head in through the door, “Bun, do you want a snack? I got some blueberry muffins from the bakery…”

“Oh… um, yeah, I’ll be right down, just getting that paper out of my hair,” you mumbled, quickly running your fingers through the ends of your messy blonde mane.

“Alright, I’ll pop them in the microwave to warm them up,” she replied before heading back downstairs to do so.

As you heard her footsteps fade away, you turned around and pulled your tights down again, trying with all your might not to release a pained noise as the fabric ripped away from your newly raw skin. The area you’d scratched was an angry red colour and the skin seemed wet, but there was no blood, which whilst a relief, made no sense to you.

Not wanting to keep your Aunty waiting, you hastily pulled your tights the rest of the way off and threw them in your laundry hamper. The house was warm enough, but you decided to grab your soft little blanket that had purple and grey clouds, as well as the book on football you had been reading and the little notebook you’d been making notes in (and Arthur of course), and head downstairs.

“Perfect timing Bun, just took them out of the microwave. Do you want a drink?”

“I’m okay. Thank you, Aunty Leah, this looks lovely” you replied, climbing up onto a stool in front of the kitchen bench where a little plate with a yummy looking blueberry muffin sat.

“Well, we all know the kitchen is Aunty Lessi’s domain. That woman can cook like a dream! But I’m not too shabby at picking out a good pastry. I guess you could say bread and bread-adjacent foods are my domain,” she teased.

You giggled as you tucked into your muffin, appreciating your Aunty Leah’s silly jokes about how bad at cooking she was and how limited the range of foods she ate was. Your extended family often seemed to tease her a bit about being a picky eater and she would usually laugh it off or join in on the joke. But you knew it was something she was actually a bit self-conscious about.

A few days into your stay here you’d gone to the fridge to grab some milk for your cereal and had accidentally knocked a container off a shelf. As you bent down to pick it up, you noticed a little letter stuck to the lid that read “Leah, my love, it’s okay if you can’t eat this. I know you tried and I’m proud of you. Please just make sure you eat something or at least have a protein smoothie. For you and for ‘L’. Love you – xx Less.” You’d immediately felt guilty for reading it as you rushed to put it back on the shelf, knowing you’d intruded on a bit of your Auntie’s privacy. You’d seen a few similar little notes stuck to containers since then. At the time you’d been very confused about what “for you and for ‘L’” meant, but you had since figured out it meant ‘for you and for Lemonade’.

When you finished your muffin, you wriggled off the stool and headed over to place your plate in the dishwasher.

“Are you done with your plate too, Aunty Leah?” you offered.

“Oh, thanks sweetie, you didn’t have to do that,” she replied as she passed you her plate with a smile. “Feel free to watch something on the telly if you want. I’ve got a bit of boring adult housework stuff to catch up on before Aunty Lessi gets home.”

“Is there anything you need help with?” you asked.

“No, no. I’ve just got to do a couple of loads of laundry and there’s no way I would make you deal with Aunty Lessi’s gross smelly training socks! It’s bad enough poor little Lemonade is stuck with me and can’t escape from it,” she laughed, jokingly shielding her belly from the smell.

“Is it okay if I just read in the loungeroom?” you asked.

“Of course it is! Just remember if your head starts to hurt or you’re feeling too tired or anything, to have a rest, yeah?” she smiled at you, stroking her fingers affectionately through your hair.

“I will, thank you.”

So, you made yourself comfortable in a little spot on the loungeroom floor, surrounded by a couple of cushions, the blanket you’d brought down from your room and, of course, Arthur. Soon you were laying on your belly, nose deep in the book and jotting down notes in your notebook all about what a penalty shootout was and what circumstances led to one. You drew a little picture of the goal and the line markings and where the goalie had to stand and where the other players had to stand, before turning back to the book to read about in-game penalties when slowly but suddenly you… were… asleep.

The next thing you knew you were waking up in your Auntie’s bed to the smell of your Aunty Lessi’s lasagna.

The realisation hit you like a hundred bolts of lightning.

You’d slept in someone else bed.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Bad things happen when you sleep in someone else’s bed.

The last time you’d slept in someone else’s bed, your house burned down, and your Mummy and Daddy had died.

You jumped out of the bed as though it was burning you, panic rattling all through your little body.

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

Your right hand began hitting at the side of your head before you even knew it was happening.

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

Your other hand clawed at the skin of your neck, scratching determinedly at the tender skin there.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

You tried so hard to stop them, but your feet began to stomp loudly, your whole body seemingly moving with a mind of its own. Everything around you seemed like it was spinning. You thought you could smell smoke and when your eyes began to water you weren’t sure if it was because you were crying or if it was because there was actually smoke.

You vaguely heard a commotion and saw the door swing open, but everything around you continued to spin making you feel like throwing up. You couldn’t throw up in your Auntie’s bedroom!

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

“Bunny? Sweetie, what’s going on?”

You could hear your Aunty Lessi’s voice and feel her presence, but the only word you could think was ‘BAD’.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

The word kept falling from your lips and you continued to stomp and hit and scratch.

“Okay, Bun. I’m going pick you up so you stop hurting yourself sweetie. I need to make you nice and safe, alright?”

Again, you heard your Aunty but all you could think was ‘BAD’.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

Carefully you felt your Aunty wrap her arms around you, trapping your arms and lifting you off the ground. You struggled as your body fought to keep hitting and scratching and stomping, but she gently tugged your hands away from your neck and head, tucking them tightly against her chest.

“You’re okay, lovely. You’re safe, I promise. It’s just you, me and Aunty Leah here okay. Nothing bad is going to happen alright? We’re safe. You’re safe. Everything’s okay…”

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

“What do you mean by bad, Bun?” Aunty Lessi asked.

You shook your head, unable to explain yourself. All you could say was “bad.”

“Oh sweetie, you haven’t done anything bad. You’re not in any kind of trouble. I promise. And nothing bad is going to happen either, okay?” she whispered.

You began to slowly unclench in her arms, comforted by the soothing way she was swaying gently. Eventually you opened your eyes to see your Aunty Leah standing in the doorway watching on, her face red and blotchy as though she’d been crying.

You immediately came back into your body, realising whatever you’d just done had upset your Aunty Leah. You tried to wriggle slightly to free yourself from your Aunty Lessi’s grip, but she tightened her hold.

“Not yet sweetie. I need to what’s going on? What happened?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed with you in her lap.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to be bad and upset Aunty Leah. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Darling, you didn’t upset me” your Aunty Leah assured you as she came over to sit next to Aunty Lessi on the bed.

“But your face is blotchy like you’ve been crying” you replied, your Aunty Lessi finally loosening her grip on her as your reached toward Aunty Leah.

“Well, it’s because I have been, but it’s not because you upset me. I’m just worried about you is all. Why were you hurting yourself?” she asked, taking your hand in hers.

“I just had to. I don’t know. I just did. I was bad.” You jumped off Aunty Lessi’s lap and started pacing on the floor in front of her and Aunty Leah. “I woke up in this bed and I had no idea why I was in your bed and all I could think was ‘bad’ and I just did it without realising.”

“I washed your sheets and they’re in the dryer. So, when you fell asleep on the loungeroom floor, I just put you in here for your nap. I didn’t mean for it to upset you so much, sweetie,” Aunty Leah explained, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

“You didn’t upset me, I just I don’t want you and Aunty Lessi and Lemonade to die too!”

You heard your Aunties gasp at your explanation, but you just kept pacing, trying to figure out a way to stop the inevitable from happening.

“Bunny, oh my goodness, why would Aunty Leah and Lemonade and I die because you had a nap in our bed?”

“Because that’s what happened when I slept in Mummy and Daddy’s bed!”

You watched as your Aunties exchanged a series of looks. The seemed confused and shocked, which was confusing and shocking to you, because it all seemed so obvious.

“Darling, your Mummy and Daddy didn’t die because you slept in their bed,” Aunty Leah tried to tell you.

“Yes, they did! They did. They DID! I know they did! It’s the only thing different I did that night from all the other nights. I had done so so good all summer getting into my big girl routine and kept it up really well for the first couple of weeks of school. But then… then I slipped up, and I was bad and I asked to sleep in bed with Mummy and Daddy that night. And and th- the fire happened. And if I had of been in my own room, I could have got myself out. Because we’d practiced. Daddy made sure we practiced. And and and then… then Da-Daddy wouldn’t have needed to get me out and he could have helped Mummy because of her leg. And they could have got out too. But I was bad. I slept in a bed that wasn’t mine. When I should have just slept in my own bed, like a good girl. Like a big girl. And now they’re dead. They’re both dead. And it’s my fault. And now what if you die too!?”

#woso fanfics #leah williamson x reader #alessia russo x reader #woso fanfic #woso imagine #arsenal x reader #leah williamson x alessia russo x reader #woso fic #woso x reader #alessia russo #leah williamson #lemonade #child reader

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kiirotoao · 10 months ago

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No but holy shit the implications of “I think there is someone he likes, because he has been acting… weird.”

Just imagine El’s confusion over her brother. California is obviously not that great for the Byers. In that very intro scene, we see El making her diorama (which, as sweet and lovely as it is, it ends up getting nothing but ridicule in school), Joyce getting frustrated with a client, Jonathan hurriedly hiding the fact that he’s smoking weed; things are not picture perfect. But Will? Will’s in his own world, in a dreamland of his own, holding to his friends and his life back home by painting it with a focused and tender look in his eyes.

While everyone at home openly struggles with something, our first glimpse of Will this season is something precious and untainted, a struggle that doesn’t develop until much later when he chooses to face his feelings.

We never see Will acting, quote, “weird.” Will has never really been a character that we see out loud. It all lies underneath. It always has. And when I think about that underlying struggle and yet deep fondness, it just. God, it breaks me.

Imagine Will months prior, starting up this project. He picks out a giant canvas, a page that covers his entire easel. Maybe this is his first time using paint as his medium. Maybe not. But whatever the weather, it’s bigger than anything we’ve ever seen him craft. Ever.

Imagine El’s excitement. She learns that Will is a great artist, and she knows it the minute he shows her a single piece. After that, she’s interested in his art, and yet… it’s at the worst time, because he doesn’t let her into his room, anymore. But she knows that he’s working on his easel day in and day out. The minute he’s home from school, he’s playing music, painting again. Maybe he throws out one or two torn-up drafts. Maybe he skips dinner over it. Maybe he ends up so tired that he’s fallen asleep with paint on his face and doesn’t even know it until she points it out.

She’s impressed and she wants to see what he’s doing, especially because he seems so passionate about it all the time, but he never lets her. He bites his lip and shakes his head. He guards it with his very life. And El is left wondering what has him acting so secretive. So nervous. What is the emotion, where is the energy coming from?

It’s out of place. It’s weird when moving to California isn’t as fun as whatever is on that canvas’ face.

So it must be love. Of course it is. Of course it’s for someone, some girl. What else could it be? What else would make Will seem that out of place, seem that… crazy?

And for all of it to be happening upward of six entire months? That painting didn’t take a day or two, I mean, look at it. It must’ve taken him weeks to get in every detail.

And all of it. Every little smile. Every dreaming thought. Every ounce of passion. Everything. Was because of Mike.

God.

#byler #the screaming and crying genre of byler #I had a good but exhausting day and I guess I’m here now #send help #will byers #byler analysis

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euphorix-moon · 1 month ago

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Love Maze

Vi x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Helping Vi realize that she can break out of this loop that's she's in

Warning: Slightly Angsty and slightly out of character

A/n: Arcane season 2 just came out and i'm still reeling from everything, just had to make this cause i was inspired by episode 3 it broke my CaitVi heart

It was just one of those days,

There weren't many days where you would get the house all to yourself to enjoy so you didn't waste the chance to relax when your roommate said she was going out to run some errands.

You were currently enjoying your day re-reading through your favorite book series until you were disturbed by a sudden knock at the door.

You skeptical and slightly annoyed you went to go answer the door. Opening the door is when you came face to face with the pink-haired woman you came to know as Vi. She almost looked slightly surprised to see you at the door but kept her composure

"Is she here ? " Vi asked worriedly

"Hi nice to see you too, but unfortunately your girlfriend isn't here, she went out to do some stuff" you replied

She lightly sighs before saying, "Well if that's the case then I guess I'll wait for her till she gets back. That's fine with you, right ?" She says walking through the door before you can get a response out. You sigh closing the door behind you knowing she would stay and wait either way.

There was an awkward silence between the two of you guys so you took it upon yourself to try and get a conversation going.

"So....what brings you here ?..Is it the same issue again ?"

Vi glares at you but after some time does lightly nods her head to confirm your suspicions. You kept quiet lightly sighing to yourself.

The cycle had become almost predictable at this point: a fight would ignite, Caitlyn would storm off ghosting Vi, and then, a few days later, Vi would return, offering half-hearted apologies that seemed to smooth things over just enough to delay the inevitable crash. Caitlyn never seemed to learn, and neither did Vi. But the truth was, they both were just playing the same tired game, and you wanted all this nonsense to come to an end once and for all.

Here,” you said, slipping behind the counter to make a couple of drinks. “Let’s take the edge off. I’m sure you could use something stronger than water right now.”

Vi didn't argue. She sank down onto the couch, taking a deep breath, clearly exhausted from everything. As you handed her the glass, you kept your tone light, almost casual. "So, how's work? How’s your family? Anything to distract you from… well, everything?"

She gave a weak laugh, taking a sip of her drink. "Work’s fine. Same as usual. Nothing exciting," she muttered, looking down at her hands, clearly distracted. "Family’s... okay. You know how it is, always got something goin on"

You nodded, pretending to listen, but your mind was already working. "Yeah, I get that. But seriously, when’s the last time you actually did something for you, Vi? Like, something that made you feel alive? Not just for Cait, or for your job, but for yourself?"

That was a hook. Vi wasn’t even aware of it. She leaned forward, a little too eager to talk about herself, to talk about anything that didn’t involve the draining mess she was in. She starts going into detail about the many things she's been interested in but never got the chance to due to feeling like she's alway has to balance a thousand things in her life.

"Well if I'm gonna be real honest with you Violet, it sounds like this relationship is just another thing holding you back" you say with sincerity.

"It’s just... it’s not that simple, okay? Violet shot back.

me and her have history. We’ve been through a lot together. And—" she paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "Yeah, things have been tough lately. But we love each other. I know she has her issues, but I really think we can fix this. I don’t want to just... give up on everything we’ve built."

You almost rolled your eyes at the word history—as if that was supposed to make everything else okay.

"Vi," ."You’ve been ‘fixing’ things for months now. You keep telling yourself it’s just a phase, that Cait’s going to change, that things will get better. But they never do. You are stuck in a loop and you can’t keep pretending like nothing’s wrong."

"So, what? You want me to just leave her? After everything? You’re not even trying to help me,You’re supposed to be my friend. You should be supporting me in making this work, not... pushing me away from her!"Vi’s jaw clenched, her chest rising and falling with each breath as if she was holding back.

Her words stung just a little bit but you knew how to respond back. "I am doing this because i care enough to tell you the truth Vi, you deserve so much better than this. Don't let Caitlyn stress you out so much, especially when there's already a lot on your plate".

"You just don't get it. You don’t know what she's like when we’re together,” she says, still feeling obligated to defend her relationship.

"Maybe i don't and i might be wrong about all of this, but all I'm saying is that if you were my girlfriend id be the one coming to apologize and id try to find every possible way to make it up to you." You say leaning closer towards Vi

She sputters trying to find the words to defend herself, every single word unfortunately dying in her throat.

"I’d be the one begging you for another chance after acting like a dumbass. I'd spoil you and not let you do anything till you forgave me" You continued.

The silence that fell between you and Vi after your last words was thick with unspoken things. Vi feels as if her heart is beating out her chest as you continue to close the distance between the two of you guys.

"You do deserve better, Vi," you said, your voice soft but certain. "And when you’re ready, I’ll be here for you. Not just as your friend, but... more than that, if you want. You don’t need Cait to feel loved. I’m not going anywhere."

Vi looked at you, her eyes wide, and in that moment, it was like everything clicked for her

You wanted to kiss her. You wanted to show her that everything she needed wasn’t in Cait. That there was more for her. That she didn’t have to settle.

Just as you leaned forward, your lips barely inches from hers, the door to the room creaked open, and the sudden sound of keys jingling at the front door broke the fragile bubble that had formed between the two of you.

You two quickly back away from each other, moving to the opposite sides of the couch, averting eyes as Caitlyn walks into the room

A/n: Sorry for the cliffhanger and sorry to all the caitvi shippers, i love them too...i just can't pretend that i wouldn't want vi if they broke up fr.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi fanfic #vi x caitlyn #vi x y/n #lesbian #bisexual #wlw #vi x you #arcane league of legends

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pixiecaps · 5 months ago

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Mousey: Listen, okay? Don’t tell him I said any of this shit, okay? I’m really proud of him. I’m extremely proud of Connor. When we did our interview, you guys won’t see this because of course it gets cut, you know, shit gets edited. And shit gets cut out but… I- I cried to him and I told him that- How appreciative I was of him because, you know, I would have never guessed that like when we met three years ago, almost four years ago, that we would be at this point. That we would be doing stuff like this together. And we would be, you know, raising awareness, changing people’s lives, helping people. It’s just- I’m just so grateful for his friendship. So grateful that he’s apart of my life because, you know, (Silence) I just am. I’m- I’m. I just am. He’s been there for me like no one else has been there for me and, um, it’s crazy for me to think that like we’re doing stuff like this and it’s like- I would have never thought that the day that we met and we just started talking-

You know, I remember when we first started talking I was like really.. scared to tell him that I was sick. And the only reason why like I told him was because I had to. Because he kept bringing up like going to hangout and like, you know, asking me to come like (to) Japan and like chill and like, you know, recommend places and stuff like that. And I just- I don’t know. Something in me told me to tell him. And I was really scared because I don’t like telling people because I feel like I’m just going to get treated differently or people are just going to get weirded out or grossed out or- And not want to talk to me. So, I was just like, you know what? I’m just going to tell him and if he stops talking to me after that then he stops talking to me after that! And you know, if we just- if we just like talk like “Hi Bye” friends then that’s fine with me. It’s- It’s fine, you know? But that was not what happened. I told him how shocked I was cause when I told him about it, it was the exact opposite of what I thought was going to happen. I- He.

I was just taken aback that he like genuinely showed concern. He wanted to know more about my condition, he wanted to know more about what was going on and he asked so many questions and he wasn’t like dismissive. Or he wasn’t like, “Oh well damn. That sucks bro.” Cause normally you would tell somebody and they’d be like, “Damn that’s crazy. That sucks. Sorry.” You know what I mean? Like usually people are just like, “Oh my god that’s terrible.” And then you move on. And then it’s just like, “Sorry about that. Sorry if that’s going on with you.” You know? But with him it was like, you know, he wanted to know everything. He wanted to learn more about everything that was going on and he was genuinely interested, genuinely concerned, genuinely just wanted to know more about me. And I was.. shocked. Shocked that that was happening. And um. You know. We’ve been besties ever since and it’s just.. crazy to think. (Sniffles)

He’s a good guy. Genuinely. Genuinely good guy. (Voice breaks and sniffles more) And uh. I just uh. I’m just very grateful to him that he, you know, he cares about all this stuff and not once did he ever like feel weirded out or disgusted, you know? Judgmental. So. (Sniffles) You know. It was- It was- It’s crazy. It was like one of the first moments of my life where I just felt like I could be myself and I didn’t have to pretend or hide. And… and it’s been like that ever since and it’s just really nice that he genuinely cares about this cause and he genuinely cares about helping other people like me. So I- I am just very thankful. I’m already crying (Laughs)

#ironmouse #cdawgva

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casanovawrites · 4 months ago

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random sentence prompts ━ from various tv shows, part 11

you’ve been such a pain in my ass.

you’re the most fascinating person i’ve ever known.

can you stop needing to be the hero here?

people don’t just disappear.

we are saying goodbye. just not to each other. we’re saying goodbye to everything else, our old lives.

everything that kept us safe is gone.

i would rather prepare for the worst before the worst happens.

i am basically 100% headache right now.

you’re the only one who ever let me feel normal.

maybe i suck too. i just don’t know how yet.

i’m not choosing anyone. i’m choosing work over play.

doesn’t it feel like everyone wants us to be someone we’re not?

a sleepover? am i invited?

it has to be you. you’re all we’ve got.

you know me. we know each other.

it’s called keeping up with the times, asshole.

but fuck all of you, and i mean that.

people don’t usually follow my lead, if you know what i mean.

there’s nothing wrong with us.

i want your point of view on things.

you’re killing me. you get that, right? that’s what you’re asking me. to die for you.

i’ll follow your rules. that’s all you get.

i’d love to trade witty one-liners with you.

you’re the worst. you know that, right?

today is the first time in my life that feels like the right time.

there is a point to everything. there are answers.

god doesn’t just play games with people for fun.

the sun just keeps coming up every day, and you can’t cry forever.

you have to have hope, don’t you? because who knows. maybe tomorrow.

you don’t get to decide what matters.

a lot of what’s happening is us being scared, and alone, and bored. so we do scary things to each other, we hurt each other.

it’s like she wants to turn the whole world upside down.

who’s been there for you more than me?

bullshit. we’re not the same person.

you didn’t pick me. because you didn’t think i belonged.

if i had to pick anyone in the world when things got bad, i’d pick you.

this isn’t about us. this has nothing to do with us.

there is no us. because of everything.

i love you. i know i don’t always show it, but i do. i love you.

the universe does not care about your love life.

i’m not sad. i’m pissed off.

you say too many things you don’t mean.

i’ve thought a lot about dying. i’ve gotten used to that. but i don’t like to be afraid.

sometimes when i’m angry, i want to hurt people.

i’m worried that i’m not real.

all you can do is have an advantage, and this is mine. it’s all i have.

what i did is not the worst crime in the world.

given everything, can’t i get a tiny break?

why? what’s so special about me?

are we going to fight each other over food? that’s fucking crazy.

you can live wherever you want, just not with me.

we should get some food, before it’s all gone.

what if things don’t go back to the way they were?

don’t give me a fucking speech. you have no idea.

i guess i can learn to get along with a few more people.

what’s so hard about being honest with yourself?

it’s been ten days. i’m not the same person i was.

if there are things that need to be done, i want to do them.

there are no sides anymore.

you’re the best decision i’ve ever made.

we’re the same. you have to stick with your own.

i’m scared, and i have to take care of myself.

i live in your shadow, and now you suddenly want to disappear?

you know that you’re the love of my life? and whatever comes after this.

if this is it, this is where i want to be. i mean not here, but with you. you’re where i want to be.

i was a different person before we fell in love.

thank you. for loving me.

right now, we could use all the love we can get.

you get scared, and you get mean.

is this how you want to spend the time you have left? always looking over your shoulder?

you’re giving me a headache instead of having my back.

it’s just, sometimes i know what i want, i just don’t know how to say it.

the only feelings that anyone cares about are yours.

people keep dying around me.

i feel really lucky to have you. you’re my rock.

the end is none of your business.

i like you exactly the way you are.

i’m so sick of feeling different from everyone else.

after “fuck you,” i don’t have much.

i think about you too much.

i don’t think about you.

i’m not scared. i’m just realistic.

it feels like i’ve been starting forever.

no one cares about the best player on the worst team.

i’m tired of losing. i just don’t know what to do.

that’s hopelessly romantic. and this isn’t hopeless.

i haven’t been happy all year. why start now?

i’m sorry i can’t turn off my feelings whenever you want.

seems like everything i do hurts your feelings.

i care about you. i just don’t know how to prove it.

i like who i am in your eyes. i like how you see me.

i’m not sure i like myself in a relationship.

i’m way easier to replace.

when it ends, it’ll hurt.

the right thing is just to be here with you.

death is not beautiful, it’s final.

i keep failing everyone, and i don’t know what to do.

i don’t feel sad. i feel numb.

i ask people if they’re all right too much.

you never needed me. you needed someone.

i made myself sick to make you feel better.

this whole time i thought it was dying, but it’s living what scares you

you’re afraid to commit, and i need constant validation.

you don’t belong here. not after what you did.

there is no mystery here. nothing to avenge.

i made a wish, and it came true, and i couldn’t take it back.

he was a bad person and a worse father. the world is better off without him.

you never know when to stop, do you?

you do whatever it takes to survive. or you die.

you think i didn’t try everything to get back to my family?

#rp sentence starters #rp sentence prompts #rp one liners #rp ask meme #ask meme #meme #*#sentence starters

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yukidragon · 5 months ago

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Sunny Day Jack - Reversing Victim and Offender

Okay, okay, hear me out.

Jack being a creepy manipulative yandere.

Yes, yes, I know, totally a revolutionary idea there to have a yandere horror game’s antagonist do something creepy and wrong. It’s just that I don’t often play with Jack losing himself to his more depraved impulses. Long time readers know I tend to be quite a marshmallow who prefers the fluffier side of things, as evidenced by many cuddly posts of my OTP and Sunshine in Hell being overall a softer version of the game, but sometimes it’s fun to watch the world burn and see the characters we love get to be a bit unhinged. As a treat.

Content Warning: this post is about Jack being a naughty manipulative yandere, attempted murder, influenced attempted self-murder, possession, mental manipulation, bloody violence, and a sprinkle of horny.

We know Jack can be a manipulative little devil when it comes to keeping his sunshine. We’ve seen him use his honeyed words to lure MC into his arms in the previous demos. We’ve seen the classic chilling concept art where he talks his rival(?) into doing the dirty work for him when he wants them gone.

Credit as always goes to Sauce for their awesome art, as well as a quick plug to the SnaccPop Patreon. Speaking of the Patreon, there’s a members only post on this very topic, an absolutely chilling audio drama of Jack using his state as a ghost(?) to his advantage.

It seems that Jack has the ability to possess people, and his modus operandi in eliminating his rivals seems to be tormenting them to the point of self-harm. Nick received a taste of that in the older demo, and in the now removed trailer.

But what if the person Jack directed his rival to hurt wasn’t themselves?

Jack is of the opinion that MC’s friends (and potential love interests) are inferior to him, as we’ve seen in his profile. MC doesn’t need them, as Jack says in this unsettling animation by Sauce, as well as many other development art. He proves this by giving MC whatever they want and need, being whatever they want and need him to be. No one else would do that for MC, so that proves that the only one they need is him.

To some degree, MC seems to believe that, at least during the early part of the game. As we can see in the “No” route, MC is dependent on Jack, panicking when they can no longer touch him.

The idea of losing Jack terrifies MC.

What happened to Jack clearly disturbed him, as we saw by his haunted look, but perhaps he found some comfort in the fact that MC was so upset by it. It might at least reassure him that they care, even if it might not be as much as he wants them to.

As I’ve theorized in previous posts, Jack and MC seem to be able to sense each other’s feelings, and it was implied that Jack can read their mind, as well as impress his thoughts into theirs. Perhaps he even felt their fear and desperation at that moment… as well as their need to keep him.

As scary as that moment was, Jack might have been able to get some pleasure out of feeling his sunshine’s need for him, don’t you think?

Jack won’t disappear as long as MC needs him, and he doesn’t want them to feel unhappy or hurt, but wouldn’t being with other people trying to steal them away from him hurt them more in the long run? MC doesn’t see what Jack does, how much of a threat those rivals other “friends” are.

After all… Ian was someone MC once held so dear, and he hurt them so, so badly. He’s trying to come back into their lives, and MC clearly still cares about him even if they’re trying to move on. How can Jack just stand idly by and let MC get hurt again when they don’t see just how bad Ian is for them?

MC might not be able to see how Ian and the other love interests could hurt them, but perhaps Jack could show his beloved sunshine just how cruel they can be.

Of course, Jack doesn’t want MC to get hurt. He would never! But, well, some lessons can be a bit harsher than others. Learning them can sting a bit and even make us upset, but as long as the lesson doesn’t do lasting harm and improves things for them, well, then it’s a good lesson!

Besides, this lesson will hurt Jack more than it hurts MC… in the most literal sense.

This classic audio drama of Jack’s villainous monologue makes me think that he’ll eventually find a way to become much more tangible in the real world. Sure, he could be saying all this while possessing his rival, but it seems more like a face-to-face confrontation. Naturally, for a face-to-face confrontation, Jack would need a face that’s actually visible to the person he’s taunting.

Perhaps the closer Jack gets to MC, the more they love him, the more real he becomes. It could be a reversal of what happened in the “No” route. If that were to happen, Jack could converse with other people directly… and perhaps convince them to leave MC to him.

If they just won’t go away, well… Jack could always push their buttons, upset them to the point that they have violent urges, only these feelings would be directed at him.

While MC is there to see that person unleash their bloody rage on Jack, of course.

As we’ve seen in earlier concept art, Jack didn’t feel pain when being stabbed, and perhaps that might still be true. But MC doesn’t need to know that when Jack says he’s okay and that it doesn’t hurt, it really doesn’t. All they see is Ian, Shaun, Nick, or whoever else suddenly snapping and attacking Jack with a knife for no apparent reason at all, leaving him bloody and wounded in front of them, trying to act brave for their sake like he did in the “no” route.

Jack doesn’t want MC to be unhappy, but perhaps he might get to enjoy a guilty thrill if they got upset for his sake, especially if he could feel them being so protective over him. Their worry for his injuries and outrage that he was attacked… You could say that it’s another way for his sunshine to show him just how much they love him. It might even make him feel a bit more secure, more real.

Jack could even prep his target beforehand via possession, tormenting that person until they’re close to snapping. In the now gone trailer, Shaun sounds unhinged, saying what he’s doing is so wrong… Shaun sounds like someone pushed to do things he never thought himself capable of doing, and likely it was Jack who did the pushing.

All Jack has to do is pull the trigger at the right moment, when MC is there to see their other friend snap. He could use a phrase or gesture that seems so innocent as a means to torment them until they can no longer help themselves when they hear it. He could’ve urged them to carry a knife with them at all times.

Hell, Jack could’ve outright possessed their arm with his powers, unseen by everyone, to make his target stab him in front of MC.

So, as far as MC is aware, Jack being his typical friendly self, when all of a sudden their other friend loses their mind and stabs Jack, likely while shouting something unhinged. It paints a vivid bloody picture of their friend as the antagonist, and Jack as the innocent victim.

Even if the rival snaps out of it right afterward, horrified at what they had done, if Jack covered his tracks well enough, their protests would be empty. It’d just look like empty excuses.

Or perhaps they hate Jack, really hate him, but they have no solid evidence why Jack is a bad person. They could wind up digging the hole even deeper if they doubled down on their act of violence.

It would be really hard to claim that Jack is the dangerous entity when they were the one who suddenly stabbed Jack without apparent provocation after all. It’d just make them look even more unstable and dangerous.

Sure, it’d be an awful thing for MC to see, but at least they’re not the one that got attacked. Jack bravely made sure that he was the only one whose blood was spilled. He might not even really feel pain like they would if he can handle being stabbed, rotted, and bleeding and keep going, as some teasers and concept art have shown.

Personally I think Jack can feel pain, but it’s nothing compared to the 40 years of hell, or the fear of losing his sunshine.

A little pain is worth it to keep his sunshine. Forever.

The idea of losing Jack bloodlessly and painlessly is scary enough for MC. Seeing someone attack him, maybe even outright trying to kill him would be far, far worse. MC was so desperate to keep Jack from disappearing, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to expect that they would rush to his defense to save his life.

This is especially true if their feelings for Jack are so strong that he’s able to physically manifest now.

The moment would be a scarring memory for MC, but sometimes lessons can be harsh when we learn them. MC would at least know how inferior their other friends are compared to Jack, how harmful and dangerous they are. Those people don’t deserve to be in MC’s life, and it’s in their best interests to never see those people again.

Jack would also get to enjoy the perverse pleasure of knowing just how much MC cares about them, how much they love him. They could even nurse him back to health after they chase away that inferior friend for good. He can be pampered, appreciated, and loved. MC will better understand just how important Jack is to them, how much they need him, and how terrible the person who tried to take them away truly is.

Really, it goes to show that MC should listen to Jack more when he says he’s not so sure about them spending time with a particular person, don’t you think?

Of course, how well this ploy goes depends on MC’s compassion. Given what we’ve seen so far of the story, MC does care about Jack, and most people will at least be upset and alarmed that someone was stabbed in front of them. An MC that has strong feelings for Jack and deeply loves him will no doubt be enraged.

This sort of messed up scenario reminded me of how the Bad End AU went so horribly wrong, only Shaun and Ian knew to target the tape there, rather than Jack directly. Alice was hesitant to do more than plead for the three to stop, not wanting any of them to be hurt, and the result was the tape getting destroyed and Jack banished.

The altercation between them was vague, but what if we went down another dark path? What if Jack pushed Ian and Shaun, but they never found out about the tape, and they focused on Jack himself despite his imposing size.

Once I made that comparison between this idea and the Bad End AU, I got inspired to write a quick first draft flash fic about a timeline where Jack gives in to his darker impulses.

The story of Sunshine in Hell is one of broken people helping each other heal and become better versions of themselves.

The Bad End AU is what happens when the wrong choices are made and things only get so much worse.

By the way, for those wondering, a third part of the Bad End AU is in the works. This isn’t it, but more like a different option taken during a critical moment that resulted in blood being spilled instead of bits of plastic and torn VHS tape ribbon.

From wholesome to unhinged, my posts truly run the gambit of different sides to Sunny Day Jack. I hope you enjoy this little snippet of Jack getting worse instead of better, and taking perverse glee in bringing Alice along with him down a twisted path.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

…

Jack hated to see his sunshine upset. He ached for Alice every time she was in pain. There was nothing he wanted more than to see her smile, to bask in her warm, happy glow.

The last thing Jack wanted was to be the reason Alice was upset, and yet…

Somehow things had grown twisted. Jack crossed lines he knew that he shouldn’t, but somehow he always found ways to justify it. Somehow his fears of losing Alice were always stronger than the little voice in his head telling him that what he was doing wasn’t right.

Sadly, not everything in life could be solved with polite words and a smile.

Things had grown twisted until they spiraled out of control. Ian and Shaun dared to invade their home, their sanctuary. They wanted to take Alice away from him, to “save” her from his “wicked clutches” like Jack was just some cartoon bad guy.

All the things the two said about him were ridiculous, exaggerations! Jack feigned ignorance of their accusations, his confused act flawless. There was no reason for them to be afraid of him. He was just an innocent clown, someone who lived to take care of others, particularly his precious sunshine Alice.

Alice believed Jack had nothing to do with their accusations, but she didn’t chase them away. She listened, worried for them despite her faith in him. It warmed his heart that she believed in him, but the fact that she still listened meant that there was room for doubt to worm its way in.

Ian and Shaun could see that too.

“This… thing is dangerous, Alice,” Shaun said with a tremor in his voice. His eyes couldn’t remain still, bouncing between pleading with Alice and watching for when Jack pounced on them like a venomous cobra. “You need to get away from it right now.”

“You have to believe us!” Ian insisted, his voice cracking desperately. He kept one hand in his pocket, his shaking hand clutching his only form of defense tight. Would it even work on a ghost or whatever Jack was?

Could Jack even bleed?

Jack stood between the invaders and his sunshine. They had tried to take her with him, but he snatched up Alice before they could steal her away and tucked her safely behind his back. He kept one hand on her arm, his hold on her deceptively light, but as unshakable as iron. His expression was innocence itself, showing nothing but a mask of confused concern directed at the two terrified men before him. “Take it easy now. There’s no danger here. Let’s all take a deep breath and try to calm down.”

“Don’t give me that nice guy shit!” Shaun snapped as he glared daggers into Jack. His soothing words were grating in his ears, putting him even more on edge. “You’re more fake than a corporate account with a rainbow logo during pride!” His gaze switched back to Alice. “Alice, please, listen to us. This thing has been torturing us for months now.”

Alice felt a knot in the pit of her stomach. The way Shaun looked at her made her heart go out to him, but… how could it be true. “Torture-”

“Hey now, that’s a strong word to use there,” Jack said. His voice took on a more firm tone to it, but nothing more threatening than the gentle chastising he gave children on his show. “What makes you think I would hurt either of you?”

“Cut the bullshit!” Shaun snarled. “You know damn well you’ve been giving us nightmares for months now!”

“I gave you nightmares?” Jack asked. The confusion on his face was so convincing that Shaun and Ian might have questioned themselves if not for the countless sleepless nights filled with torment. “How could I do that?”

“With some sort of supernatural ghost zombie demon bullshit, I don’t know!” Shaun snapped.

“Alice, you can’t trust him,” Ian said, tightening his grip inside his pocket. Dark circles ringed his shaking eyes as he kept looking from Jack to the hand the creature had on Alice. “Why can’t you see that?”

How was Alice able to stand so close to that monster? Why was she standing behind it as if it would protect her? How could she not see that it was holding her hostage? How could she stand that thing’s cold, lifeless touch? Seeing its hand on her made Ian relieve those countless nights spent lost in a place that felt too real to be a dream, but too horrible to be reality.

The Jack before them now wasn’t exactly the same as the rotted, bloody corpse that haunted them night after night. That thing with mocking smiles that were too wide and wild, and strange eyes that had nothing behind them. This wasn’t the kind and caring boyfriend Alice talked about. This thing was a monster that only knew how to take and take and take. Its touch stole something from Ian every time it laid its hands on him, and left behind a coldness that went far beyond cold. It stole the very warmth from him until it was as if it never existed. It stripped Ian of his senses one at a time until there was nothing but its absence hissing at him like static.

And that voice. That voice mocked him even when the world went so silent that Ian couldn’t even hear his own screams. That thing was trying to sound compassionate now, but that was a lie. It twisted the truth until it was unrecognizable, but so believable. It sounded so calm and kind at the start of every nightmare, even as it told Ian so many, many terrible things, tore open old wounds and exposed all his flaws.

Ian was a sinner damned for hell. He didn’t deserve to be anywhere near someone as kind and gentle as Alice. That thing made it all too clear to him.

The thing countered his protests, even laughed, because they were so feeble. Ian was so selfish, so worthless.

That voice would then mock him, so superior, so much better than Ian in every way. He would never forget the sound of that voice, or that smile.

The smile Jack offered him now was supposed to be an encouraging one, but Ian knew that it was fake. He knew what the hand held before him in a placating gesture was a ruse to get just a little closer.

If Jack touched either of them it was all over. Now that they exposed the truth about it to Alice…

Who knew what it would take from Ian if it got its hands on him again?

“Let’s all calm down now,” Jack said soothingly. “Come on, take a deep breath with me.” He gestured to his chest as he inhaled, which only served to remind Ian and Shaun of just how much bigger he was than all of them.

Ian jerked at Jack’s sudden movement, his breath hitching as that gloved hand drifted close to him.

“There now,” Jack said encouragingly. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The words struck harder than any blow.

There now. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

It was such an innocent phrase, something that would have been encouraging if Shaun and Ian hadn’t heard it in countless nightmares, spoken in mocking tones or breathless whispers, with fake reassurance or a true perverse glee. The monster praised them when they ran from the illusion of Alice, when they admitted that they were flawed and worthless, when they surrendered to his taunts…

When they accepted the knife it pressed into their hands to carve a smile in their throats to match its own.

Shaun flinched back while Ian tensed, his eyes wide and wild as Jack slowly reached out for him with an open palm and a smile. It was such a deceptively innocent gesture…

Instinct took over. A flash of silver and a cry broke the air as Ian used the knife he had hidden away in his pocket all this time to take back what Jack had stolen away from him.

Time slowed down as blood sprayed from the gouge carved from Jack’s hand to his forearm. He cried out in pain as he reeled back, then collapsed to the floor.

Shaun froze at the attack, staring at the bloody knife and wound it left behind in shock. It was as if he was watching a scene from one of his movies unfold before him, not real in the slightest, even though some of the blood splattered onto his face and clothes.

Ian held the knife in both hands tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. The blade shook in his too tight grip, then the rest of him soon followed as it sunk in what he had just done.

This was just another dream… right? Ian didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he just couldn’t let Jack touch him, not again. Not in reality. Not when he couldn’t wake up. He couldn’t let Jack take everything from him.

Ian couldn’t let Jack hurt him again.

Everything had happened so fast. Alice didn’t know what to make of it when Ian and Shaun practically forced their way into her apartment, throwing out wild accusations. They were jittery and on edge, hurling out vitriol towards Jack and pleas to her before she could sort out the accusations they made. They grabbed at her without warning, yanking hard while their fingers dug into her arms hard enough to bruise. It was only thanks to Jack acting quickly to separate them that she hadn’t been dragged outside.

They scared her. Alice worried for them, but their actions weren’t normal. The look in their eyes was terrifying. Ian and Shaun had been acting cagey for weeks now, avoiding her and not responding to her texts. She never saw this coming.

Jack reassured her with his gentle touch and soothing words. Alice could see that he was alarmed by their behavior as well, but he did his best to keep calm, to protect her when her friends were acting so strangely.

There was no way Jack was this monster they described. He was the kindest, gentlest soul Alice had ever known. He chased away her nightmares, comforted her when she needed it, and was there for her when she was left all alone.

Jack loved her more than anyone else in the world.

Alice barely had time to wonder about their claims when Ian struck without warning. When Jack screamed, her blood turned to ice. Red filled her vision.

There was so much blood.

“Jack!”

Alice moved before she could really register what was happening, her scream sounding far away as her heartbeat pounded hard in her ears. She threw herself between Jack and his attacker, falling to her knees as used her body as a shield. She clung to him, her best friend, her beloved, heedless of the blood soaking into her clothes, then turned her gaze to the monster that had dared to hurt the one she loved.

The ice in that gaze froze Ian, and the knife fell from his limp fingers. Suddenly he was all too aware of what he had done, the blood on his hands. He stared at them, at the sin he had committed, shaking and red, until he collapsed into a pool of tears.

“How could you?” Alice hissed, forcing the words out through her constricted throat. “How could you!?”

The world started to move again. Ian tried to say something, perhaps some form of protest or apology, but the words were half-formed and drowned in his tears. Shaun stared between the bloodstained knife and Jack, who lay curled against Alice, quietly whimpering while bleeding all over the carpet.

Shaun couldn’t reconcile the scene before him of the wounded man, weak and in pain, against the monster from his dreams that smiled through any attack he made. No matter how many times he stabbed Jack in the dream, the undead creature would just mock him, unfazed even as its blood was spilled.

Was this really the same monster that haunted them for months?

It was this dissonance that made Ian truly aware of the sin he had committed. He couldn’t handle it. He fled.

“Get out!” Alice snapped, bringing Shaun’s attention back from her and away from the fleeing Ian. “Get the fuck out of here!”

Shaun staggered a step back. “A-Alice, I-”

“Get the fuck out!” Alice shrieked. “I never want to see either of you ever again! If you ever come near me or Jack again, I’ll fucking shoot you!”

Shaun took a few more steps, his eyes trailing down to the blood that had been spilled. It still didn’t look real to him, but Alice’s screams were real. The hatred she had in her eyes directed entirely at him was real. It was far more real than any of his nightmares.

It was too much for Shaun, and he too left behind the scene of this macabre show he had taken part in.

Ahhh…

Jack had to use every ounce of his willpower to suppress his smile and keep his true feelings hidden from his sunshine. The pleasure he felt in that moment was exquisite, a shiver of euphoria that was so sinfully delicious it was practically erotic. Fear, shock, and anger burst through him like fireworks, but undercutting all of those feelings was the love Alice had for him. Those feelings of her burned fierce and bright, chasing away all the cold in the world. Even her hatred, directed at someone else, was beautiful, because it was for his sake.

How could Jack not feel pleasure when Alice’s love for him overflowed until it flooded his heart in a torrent of passion?

All that fear, worry, and rage was in defense of him. Only him. Only Jack had her love now. Whatever care Alice felt for Shaun and Ian was dead, its throat slit with a single slice of a knife.

It made all the nights spent away from his sunshine while she slept worth it. All those months of training those two obstacles had paid off beautifully. Jack finally exposed the true nature of those inferior other “friends” of hers. He knew that with just a little encouragement, they would finally show his precious sunshine just how worthless and filthy they truly were.

With them gone, her anger cooled, but didn’t disappear completely. It still burned inside of Alice, fierce and ready to protect him again at a moment’s notice. Her thoughts were all for him now, only him. She fussed over his wound, letting out concerned whimpers as she cradled him close while using her own clothes to staunch the blood flow.

Jack hated to see his sunshine so upset. He wanted to reassure her that he was fine, but he had to be careful about it. The episode he had written for them wasn’t quite finished yet.

“It… it’s okay… sunshine,” Jack said between heavy pants. He wore a weak smile that held none of his true happiness in it. “I-it doesn’t hurt.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it, but the pain didn’t matter to Jack. No pain compared to the thought of losing Alice. This little scratch was nothing compared to what he gained in return.

The love Jack felt from her, the pleasure that love gave him was so much better. It was a drug that left him feeling weak and dizzy, almost overwhelmed by the euphoria to the point he became partially erect. Alice’s love for him was so fierce that it was practically all that he could feel. Compared to that, the gouge in his arm was little more than a paper cut.

Those warm hands of hers touched him so delicately. Alice fussed over him, cried over him, her heart breaking for him. It was all for him, only for him. He was her world, and he reveled in it. She was the sun that would shine her light for no one else but him now.

Jack never wanted anything to make his sunshine unhappy, but how could he not enjoy himself? How could he not find pleasure even in the darker moments of anger and sadness that overtook her when it was for his sake? The way she screamed his name, the way she held him so close, the fierce way she defended him, worried for him… how could he not adore every second of it?

There was no stronger proof of the love Alice felt for Jack than this.

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #My Writing #Sauce-y Art

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