#they still remained pretty supportive of the other throughout the entire process | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bigmpregnm · 11 months ago

Text

Father's Day: Rework - Prologue

[Story Collection] | [●] [Part 1]

Ed’s POV:

My mind was overwhelmed by a mix of emotions as I drove for over 3 hours to my paternal grandmother's house on Father's Day. I was only 18 years old, and despite feeling hurt and angry at my dad for leaving us, I couldn't help but smile when I reminisced about the beautiful moments we shared during my childhood. I recalled a photo on my phone from the last Father's Day we had spent together when I was 16, and I sighed deeply. It was annoying; instead of enjoying a nice Sunday with my mom and sisters, I was on the road, consumed by thoughts of my absent dad.

The few people driving on Father's Day were likely visiting their dads, but that wasn't the case for me. I had to deliver the divorce papers for my dad to sign at my grandmother's house. I knew she wouldn't be home, which was great, and I thought it was very unlikely for my dad to be there either, which was even better. As annoying as it was, what I was doing was the only option to reach out to him without seeing him face-to-face. I still loved my dad, but as I said, I was still hurt and angry. Let me explain the entire story from the beginning so you can fully understand everything.

My parents got married when they were 20 years old, and two years later, they welcomed their biggest blessing, Edward Oakman – that's me. We were an average, happy family. My dad, Casper Oakman, worked at a successful construction company, and my mom, Darcy, was a successful lawyer working for an important law firm. I grew up as an only child, and I had a wonderful childhood because my parents made sure I had everything I needed, and both of them spent a lot of time with me. Our family life was fantastic, but things changed when I was 16.

All of a sudden, my dad started drinking a lot. He was never at home, and he was pretty mean the few times he talked to me or my mom. A few months later, things started getting better, but on a cold morning in February, my mom and I woke up to discover that my dad was gone. He had left without any explanation, and although it was hard to accept, we suspected he had an affair. He had always been a good husband and a wonderful father. Still, considering his weird behavior, we couldn't find any other reason for his leaving us than running away with another woman.

We were devastated, but my mom remained strong, and I knew I had to be strong for her. I waited for him to call, explain, or at least say something, but he never did. We tried to contact my grandmother, his mom, but she never responded to our calls, so we figured she supported his decision to leave us. We tried to move forward and put him out of our minds, but a part of me held onto the hope that he would eventually call us. Unfortunately, he never did.

Things got even more complicated about a month after he left us when my mom found out she was pregnant. Initially, it was strange, but I soon became excited about finally having a sibling. My excitement only grew when we learned a few weeks later that my mom was expecting twins. My mom and I were overjoyed, and we attempted to contact my grandmother once again to share the news, but she never answered. We weren't hoping for my dad to return anymore, but we wanted him to know about the twins, but he had disappeared.

My grandmother's lack of response made us realize that our efforts to reach out to my dad were useless, and the best we could do was to move forward and focus on our own lives. We knew my dad wasn't nearby, and my grandmother lived 3 hours away from us, so it wasn't difficult to live without them. Throughout the process, my mom was amazing. Instead of succumbing to sadness, she prioritized my happiness and prepared everything for the arrival of the twins.

On August 29th, about six months after my dad left, my mom gave birth to twin girls, and I instantly fell in love with them. At 17 years old, I realized I had to help my mom take care of my sisters, and as the days went by, the bond between the baby girls and me grew stronger. They often fell asleep in my arms at night, and I gave them their bottles when my mom was busy. They changed my world and gave my mom the courage to pursue a divorce.

Although my mom didn't initiate the process immediately, when the twins were nine months old, the divorce was almost ready. However, my mom still needed my dad's signature on the papers to make things easier. So, I offered to drive to my grandmother's house to deliver the papers without expecting any major drama. Initially, I didn't plan on doing it on Father's Day. Still, it ended up being a good idea because everybody was busy, and nobody would notice me entering my grandmother's house.

After the 3-hour journey, I arrived at my grandmother's house around 8:00 AM. I knew the house would be empty because it was Sunday, and playing Bingo on Sundays had been my grandmother's tradition since I was a child. Whether it was Father's Day, Mother's Day, Christmas, or New Year, my grandmother would spend the entire day playing Bingo with other elderly ladies. That was all part of my plan because I didn't want to talk to her. I had the key to the front door of her house since I was 14 years old, so I got in without problems, just as planned.

The plan was to sneak into the house and leave the papers on a table in the living room, along with a short note containing instructions. I was sure my dad had already found another woman, so I expected him to sign the papers without hesitation and then send the signed documents to our lawyer. That way, we wouldn't have to interact with each other. I was deeply hurt, so I preferred it to be that way. I knew there were other options, but my plan was simple. My mom wanted to handle things differently, but I needed to heal the wound, and I believed that executing my plan would help. Please don't judge me.

Once inside the house, I left the papers on the table, and although I didn't want to stay there for more than a minute, my curiosity took over me. My mom sometimes called me George because of my curious nature, so, just like the cartoon monkey would've done, I walked into the kitchen, searching for any sign that my dad had been there with another woman.

I didn't know what I was looking for, but I was surprised to find baby bottles and pacifiers in the dishwasher. The kitchen was quite messy, which was strange considering my grandmother had been retired for over five years, and I knew she spent long hours cleaning her house daily. The kitchen looked as though she barely had time to clean. It was odd, and the more I looked around, the stranger things became.

I found some baby clothes on top of the washing machine, and as I looked at them, I heard a noise coming from one of the rooms. Considering I had two babies at home, I immediately recognized the noise as a baby crying. Adding up the baby clothes I had just found and the bottles and pacifiers in the dishwasher, I immediately assumed that my dad and his lover had a baby, and they were all now living with my grandmother. My discovery made me think that my grandmother was definitely involved in my dad's cheating.

That realization hurt me even more, but as I resisted my desire to run away, I found myself navigating through the house to find the source of the noise. As I slowly walked, more baby noises kept coming, and I realized they came from my dad's old room. It all confirmed to me that my dad was living there. I was sweating, and my breathing was short, and I was on the verge of tears. Instead of leaving, I followed the noises until I stood at my dad's bedroom door.

I had been there so many times before. We used to visit my grandmother very often while I was growing up, but at that moment, that door looked like a portal to an entirely unknown universe. I didn't recognize the door, not because it had changed, but because of the possibilities of what could be behind it. I hesitated for a few seconds before opening it. I was so conflicted because I didn't want to face my dad, but at the same time, I needed him to know I was deeply hurt. I needed to ask him why he had left me. I needed to tell him about my sisters, but I also wanted to run away.

A few seconds later, I finally found the courage to open the door, expecting to see my dad with another woman and their baby. However, what I discovered left me speechless. I stood frozen at the doorway, my eyes locked on my dad. I had been searching for evidence of his cheating, but there was no woman in sight, only my dad and several babies. It was somehow the proof I had sought, but it was far from what I expected. I was at a loss for what to do or how to comprehend what I was witnessing.

I knew I was looking at my dad because it was his face, but I could barely recognize him. The man I had always admired, the man who had always been proud of his hairy abs and overall fit body, the man I considered the manliest man on Earth, was now sitting on a couch surrounded by four kids, and his body had changed a lot. His abs were gone, replaced by the most enormous belly I had ever seen. His pecs were massive, and his face was barely visible behind them. His once-toned body had disappeared, and now I was looking at a completely different person.

"Dad?" I managed to utter, but he remained silent, seemingly unsure how to respond.

I looked at the two babies sitting beside him on the couch, and as they turned to look at me, I noticed they looked somewhat familiar. However, my attention shifted to the other two babies playing with my dad's pecs, unaware of my presence. Their actions bewildered me as they began suckling on my dad's nipples. I was perplexed, but what truly shocked me was my dad's enormous belly.

"Ed, I-I can explain," he said as I cautiously approached him. My heart raced, but I could only stare at him in disbelief. I had so many questions, and I really needed explanations.

...

#mpreg #mpreg story #Bigmnm Fathers Day

73 notes · View notes

kcthrine · 4 years ago

Text

Scatterbrained Nights

Word Count: 1.5k

Category: Fluff.

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader

CW: Alcohol consumption.

Summary: Reader is very drunk and forgets who Spencer is, so he has to explain to her.

———————

“Oh come on, Reid! Let her stay!” Emily’s words came out a slurred mess, “We’re having so much fun!”

Spencer’s hands wrapped around my waist, holding on just a tad too tight. “She can hardly stand up straight, I think it’s time for us to get home.” All I could do was giggle, waving at our friends.

“Bye guys!” I nearly screamed, my hands flying around as I scanned the bar, finding Emily laughing at me, Penelope yelling at Luke, Luke smiling, and JJ getting another round for everyone. After a loud choir of “goodbyes”, I turned to my boyfriend, stumbling nothing, and not having to worry about falling flat on my face as Spencer’s grip tightened on me immediately.

“Careful! Bar floors have more bacteria than most public bathrooms!” The look of pure panic in his eyes was priceless, forcing another obnoxious giggle out of me.

“I don’t wanna leave yet, we still haven’t played beer-pong with that guy!” I shoved my hand in the general direction of a tall man who had been overly-friendly to me all night.

“Let’s not. We really have to get you home,” He spoke clearly, not even bothering to spare the man a glance. He wrangled my squirming body out of the bar, practically dragging me. I knew I wasn’t being much help, but the warm buzz filled my body with so much ease, I couldn’t focus on much else.

“Look, we’re right here,” He grunted, trying to keep me upright while digging the keys out of his pocket. By the time he managed to open the car door, I was almost entirely slumped over in his arms.

“The ground looks funny!” I pointed at the yellow paint marking our parking space, but I was very rudely pulled away when a strong arm hooked itself under my legs, the other supporting my back. In less than a second, I was quite literally swept off my feet. “Spencer!” I screeched, groaning at my sudden headrush as the entire world seemed to spin faster.

“Sorry, but I really had to get you in the car,” I could tell he was trying to bite back a smug grin as he set me in the passenger seat, buckling my seatbelt. I stared at him as he tightened the seatbelt, his curls seeming to stick out in every direction, his brows furrowed as if he was on a mission, and his sharp jawline all seemed much more prominent underneath the glowing moonlight.

“What?” His eyes snapped up to mine, but I couldn’t feel any embarrassment after being caught staring for once.

“Nothing,” I stretched the word out, almost singing it, “You’re just so pretty!”

The corner of his lips twitched before he shook his head, “So drunk,” He murmured before shutting the car door and walking to his side.

I couldn’t remain awake for most of the car ride, dozing off every few minutes while staring at the blurred trees flying by us. The few times I had the energy to turn my head and look at the man next to me, his hands gripped the wheel so tightly I thought he might pull it off. I was sure that I could have figured out why, had I not been in my inebriated state. Before I could process where we were, my door was being opened and a pair of hands were gripping my arms, helping me out.

“We’re here, love,” He murmured. After a second of trying to maneuver my limp body out of the car, he decided to toss me over his shoulder. The movement was so quick, I all but squealed in his ears, my hands coiling around his torso. I could hear his faint chuckle as he pushed the door open, carrying me up the steps and into our small home.

“I’m tired,” My words were even garbled to me, so I couldn’t imagine how incomprehensible they must have been for him.

“I’m taking you to bed now, my little drunk.” He teased, his voice cracking as he tried not to laugh in my face.

“Spencer!” I swatted at his back, squirming in his arms. His grip grew tighter, letting his loud laugh vibrate throughout him. He walked me down the narrow hallway, crowded with his plethora of books before we reached our bedroom. He nudged the door open with his foot, laying me down on our bed.

“Stay here, I’ll be back, alright?” He glanced at me, making sure I wouldn’t try to do something stupid. I just hummed, closing my eyes in an attempt to stop the room from turning. I listened to his footsteps patter across the hardwood floor, the steady pattern lulling me into unconsciousness. I was woken up by the sharp clink of a glass being set beside the bed. I rubbed my eyes, squinting at the water and two small pills.

“I brought you a glass of water to hopefully sober you up a bit, and some advil for tomorrow morning.” I rubbed my eyes again, sitting up on my elbows. I surveyed the bedroom, the books on walls seemingly shaking, the floorboards turning upside down. I blinked once, twice, then three times at the lanky man standing above me, staring at me with his head tilted to the side.

“You can’t be here,” I frantically whispered, “I already have a boyfriend!” I stressed, covering my eyes. Why was the light so bright? I could hear a quiet snigger from beside me, and I had to assume it was the strange man in my house.

“Sweetie, I’m your boyfriend,” He gently took my wrists, pulling my hands off my eyes, “We live here together, okay?” He bit down on his lip, desperately trying to contain a bark of laughter.

“You’re my boyfriend?” My voice came out more bewildered and jumbled than I meant, and he quickly nodded.

“I am, and you’re gonna be so embarrassed tomorrow.” His eyes traveled to the pillow beside me, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he thought of what was to come tomorrow morning.

“Wait, so you love me?” I slurred.

“I do, very much.” His smile stretched so wide his eyes crinkled, and all though I couldn’t exactly remember much, my chest flooded with warmth as my head continued to swim.

I couldn’t seem to stop the probing questions from flowing, so I followed up with a garbled, “And I have you wrapped around my finger?” I was honestly just surprised he could comprehend my words at this point.

“You do,” He quipped, and I couldn’t stop the nervous rush of giggles pouring out of my mouth when he kept his steady gaze trained on me. The giggles didn’t stop, if anything they got worse when he decided to sit on the edge of our bed.

“My head feels fuzzy,” My words trailed off as my voice jumped a few octaves.

“Oh, I know,” He tsked, “You are going to be so hungover tomorrow.” He casually brought his hand to stroke my head, flattening my hair. I swallowed thickly, my mouth running dry. As he started twirling a piece of my hair between his fingers, my eyes fluttered shut.

“I won’t be hungover.” I whined, not wanting to think about the splitting headache I would have to endure come morning. All I wanted to do was stay just like this, in complete bliss with the kind Doctor tending to me.

“Oh, you definitely will be,” He argued, keeping his voice light- bordering on condescending, “I told you not to drink this much.” He continued leisurely stroking my hair.

“Hey,” I whined without an ounce of shame, “Stop being rude!” I turned my head to the side, avoiding his judging- but still tender, eyes. I felt his free hand come up to the side of my face, turning me so I was forced to meet his gaze.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” His smile was filled with nothing but warmth and endearment. “It’ll be fine, we can just take a sick day tomorrow.”

“We can?” I mumbled, grinning when his thumbs began stroking the sides of my face, his touch so light it was barely there.

“Of course we can, and we can sleep in. I’ll give you some advil, we could even watch that show you love-”

“Parks and Rec!” I squealed, far too loud for how close he was to me. Somewhere far away, I registered the fact that I had accidentally cut him off. But he didn’t seem to mind though. He never did when it came to me.

“Yes, even though we’ve seen it four times,” He leaned down to press a gentle kiss on my forehead, “Because that’s how much I love you.”

I grabbed the back of his neck as soon as he pulled away, “I love you,” I whispered, twisting his long hair, enjoying how soft it always felt. He grabbed my hand, interlocking our fingers in a way that almost felt more intimate than most other things we’d done.

“Goodnight, sweet girl.” He drawled, crawling into bed next to me. I automatically turned my body to face him, my hands reaching for his back. I could feel his smile against my hair as one hand cradled the top of my head, the other holding onto my back.

“‘Night,” I breathed, letting exhaustion take over, my eyes shutting as I felt his hand rub soothing circles along my back.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #mgg #mgg fanfiction #mgg blurb #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst

853 notes · View notes

world-of-fire-and-flight · 2 years ago

Text

It’s been a long road to bringing Fire & Flight, the first book in my epic fantasy trilogy, the Heirs of Tenebris, to this point. While I’m super excited about Fire & Flight’s release day on July 19th, I’ve not only been humbled by this process but also overwhelmed by the outpouring of support from my friends and family. As we’re only a couple weeks away from the big day, I wanted to take a look back on the process I went through to write Fire and Flight. I hope that my experience—and the time it took—can encourage others in their writing, no matter how long it may take for your writing to come to life! Without further ado, this what my road to Fire & Flight looked like:

My young adult fantasy novel was born on the spot. I mean that literally, because my Creative Expressions teacher had me write a paragraph à la “stream of conscious,” and the first thing that came to my fingers as I typed, was the haphazard awakening of the girl who would become my protagonist, Nyla. I didn’t have a name yet either. There was only a girl with silver hair and lilac-colored eyes, and a forest.

Rolling with this first paragraph and developing the kingdom that would be called Tenebris, Fire and Flight slowly grew into the novel it is today. It would take years and many revisions to get here, but as the narrative of the Heirs of Tenebris grew, so did my dreams.

During the summer of 2017, I pushed hard to finish my first draft before the next school year. My Creative Expressions teacher showed a great interest in helping me through the editing process, and I can almost guarantee that some of my best pieces of writing advice were stolen from him. I not only finished draft one in August of 2017, but also my first complete read-through. That’s a feeling I’ll never forget, but it was also overwhelming! By the time I was done, all 49,359 words were bleeding in pink corrections (red pens are pretty scarce on my desk!), and my head was spinning.

What happened next? How was I supposed to edit this, especially when there were parts I knew were rushed or needed to be ironed out?

I decided to wait out the summer and shelved Fire & Flight until the school year had started again.In September 2017, my teacher and I were getting ready for the long haul. With both of us working on our respective novels, I learned what’s probably the hardest but most helpful editing tip of all time: rewrite or retype your entire first draft. As you create draft two, you revise and expand what’s already written in draft two, making it better than it was before. Drafts are meant to be an evolution, and so I found myself using draft one more as the outline for what draft two could be because I never did outline Fire & Flight. In doing so, my second draft became everything that draft one wasn’t. My story started to blossom, and I couldn’t wait to see it bloom.

2018 was a hard year to map for me, as it’s drowned in revisions and obsessive periodic read-throughs to make sure I was on track with the goals I’d set. Through this revision process, I realized not only had my style of writing changed throughout draft one as I grew as a writer and learned more techniques, but the perspective had changed too! Frustrated and disenchanted, I pretty much abandoned the progress I’d made and began what I’m going to call draft two-and-a-half.

By June 2019, I’d completed a major overhaul as well as my last check-point read-through of draft two-and-a-half so I could finish it by the end of the summer (spoiler: I didn’t finish by the end of that summer), and move onto the next stage.

When November of 2019 rolled around, I finally had my draft three, and my novel was nearly perfect. I still had some details I wanted to iron out and things that could be tweaked just a little more, but I couldn’t be prouder of how far Fire & Flight had come. From its measly 50,000 words to 127,625 words, all I had left to do was one “final” read-through to fix any remaining issues in early March of 2020.

I deemed Fire & Flight as “officially” finished on March 27th at 128,307 words.

It was around this time that I began looking at the different publishing options and the industry as a whole. While I’d researched literary agents and sent a few queries out, my heart wasn’t entirely in the process. The more I learned and the more I researched, the less compelled I was to pursue traditional publishing. Taking a bit of a break from Fire & Flight and the whole process, I opted to regroup and come up with a plan. It was then that I decided to self-publish Fire & Flight.

There were many reasons I decided to take Fire & Flight’s fate in my own hands, but I won’t get into that here, but know that I couldn’t be happier with this decision and am proud of the lengths I’ve traveled to bring my novel to this point!

From its short-circuited beginnings, Fire & Flight has grown so much from the novel I was writing between classes and in my free time, but I’ve also grown too. It’s been a long road for both of us—novel and author alike—and I can’t thank everyone enough for their overwhelming support throughout this journey. I can’t wait to share Fire and Flight with everyone this summer, or that this is the year I got to hold my book in my hands. And for all my fellow writers out there, I truly hope my experience reminds you that no matter how long it takes to tell your stories, it is never too long! Whatever your process and the time it may take, it’s just the perfect amount of time for it to come to life😉

#writeblr #writer life #writing process #indie author #my writing #behind the scenes of my writing #somebody pinch me #i still can't believe this is real that my book is a book now and release day is like two weeks away

21 notes · View notes

alluringjae · 4 years ago

Text

queen of hearts - sjn

summary: for the first time, one of your star students hasn’t been fetched right after class. but when she finally does, you weren’t expecting such a fine man to be her father.

pairing: johnny x female reader

word count: 5.5k

genre: fluff, romance, comedy | ceo and single dad!johnny + ballerina!reader + modern day!au

warnings: mentions of an absent parent, johnny being an overthinker, sexual innuendos (ten saying dilf hehe), slight explicit language, technical terms of ballet, a mini reference to mean girls

author’s note: sooo i came in touch with my former dance life, which led me to write this. there are links for the variations i used; their names are underlined when they’re mentioned. i am going to get technical with ballet terms here (even when my ballet knowledge decreased), so to any dancers reading, i really did my best, so please don’t come for me or do correct me for any mistakes.

although one character and her dance background, plus the name of the setting, are real, everything else about it is still a work of fiction.

i miss dancing, no cap.

leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Ballet student and teacher by day, a soloist of the Korean National Ballet at night.

This was your daily routine, and it wasn’t the typical 8-5. But it’s debatable whether or not it was worse, because you’re always going overtime. That’s the thing when you’re an overachiever. Nonetheless, you loved what you do. It’s the lifestyle you gradually built since your preschool days.

Mornings on the weekdays were mostly vacant since all the kids were still in school. You’d start at 10 am for a warm-up class for the company. Before you delved into teaching and assisting, you’d train right after your lunch break. Partnering class, en pointe class, 1-on-1 sessions with choreographers, self-practice, then the company night class, that’s the organization of your week.

Now adding the teacher title, you mostly handled kindergartners to 5th graders in the academy aspect of the company. Your first teaching class would start at 1 pm. It’s when the younger students who finished their morning classes zoom into your assigned dance studio. One class would last an hour and a half, then you have a 30-minute break in between another class with the older kids. Their lesson repertoire was more strenuous due to the added across-the-floor lessons and jumps. Water was always your best friend, water refilling stations located everywhere in the company building.

You wouldn’t say you’re a strict teacher, but you weren’t shy to correct anyone from wherever you stood. You’d lightly align their arms or back properly so your students were working on the correct body parts. Compared to the other teachers, a lot of students enjoyed your kind yet frank approaches. Your former students, who’ve already gone to the higher levels, missed your lively presence and wished repeatedly that they want you back as their teacher.

“Teacher (Y/N), I miss you so much! Teacher Ten is so intense. I get the jitters especially when we’re en pointe on the floor.”

“Teacher (Y/N), Teacher Sicheng and Teacher Seulgi scare the heck out of me during partnering class. Especially when I tried to lift my partner, I keep losing focus because of Teacher Sicheng’s never-ending comments!”

Not to be sadistic, but you’d simply laugh at their minuscule complaints. Even if they’re struggling in the academy, those comments were directed to fix their techniques if they wanted to breakthrough.

“Kids, you’re going to be fine! They wouldn’t say or do those things just because they wanted to. They’re here to push you to the next level, like how I used to do with you. It’s a cut-throat industry after all.”

This was always your reply, bittersweet and truthful. Not everyone makes it, unfortunately, so if you’re really striving, you’d do whatever it takes. Throughout your career, you’re relatively impressed with how far you’ve come.

Trainee at 17, Corps de Ballet at 18, Demi-Soloist at 21, and Soloist at 23.

You’ve been a soloist for 4 years. The final stage, which was to become a principal dancer, is your running goal. Becoming a soloist was praiseworthy enough because you’ve seen so many give up in the Corps, but claiming a spot as a principal dancer has been the ultimate dream. Since you’ve watched Swan Lake for the first time at 4 years old with your parents, that’s where you found a passion for dancing and the stage. Here you are years later, practicing numerous variations daily, performing in opera houses, and mentoring all these gifted kids.

Your last class with elementary kids, which began around 5 pm, reached its end once all the students curtsied in front of you and scurried to their mothers or their nannies. The remaining plan on your agenda today was the company class at 7:30 pm, which exceeds the average hour and a half. It’s worse during show season. There have been times everyone went beyond midnight to polish every scene from head to toe.

Currently, there’s no upcoming show for the public, though the annual summer recital for the students was around the corner. Selected members of the company were chosen to perform individually in it, which was both exciting and intense. It’s also because it’s an evaluation on whether you’d get promoted in status or staying put. You’ve partaken in 3 recitals in the past, two of which elevated you from the corps and demi-soloist ranks. The recent one, however, didn’t change your soloist ranking.

It was a major first in your career in ballet, and after finding out the result of the latter, it emotionally pained you. Recalling how much soul you put into that piece, the rejection from your artistic director clenched your heart. Though in time, you moved on from it and viewed it as a stepping stone. Also, Sicheng and Ten personally stormed your apartment to pull yourself together with wine and pizza after going on a short leave.

Since you were trainees, Sicheng and Ten were your best friends in and outside the company. Working daily to occasional barhopping, that’s your youth summed up. It wasn’t because you didn’t like the girls you’ve worked with (though a lot of them were fake and bitchy), but these two were frank and humorous as hell. Together, you’d help each other with your goals rather than be competitive. Over time, Ten leveled up to a principal dancer for 2 years running while you and Sicheng were still soloists. The way you’d watch Ten take all the big roles, that’s where you want to be one day.

Back in your last teaching class, the entire dance room was vacant. Since it’s mainly used for ballet classes, you’d either run through anything you’ve practiced from the company classes and polish it or warm up a little bit more.

Except for today, this was the only free time to sew a new pair of pointe shoes because your current ones were dead. Dead in a sense that the hard shell turned soft, which won’t be able to support you when you’re up on your toes. You’re not taking any risks of minor injuries especially when you’re in the current lineup of company members performing for this upcoming recital again. You have to prove to everyone that you deserve a position as a principal dancer.

As your legs sprawled in a half middle split, your sewing equipment laid in front of you like you’re about to perform surgery, a tiny girl stood by the ajar studio doors. In her neat bun and holding on to her small duffel bag, you’re convinced everyone has gone home already since it’s quite late.

You may have your priorities as a company member, but she was still your student.

“Minji!” You shouted her name, speedily waving your hand. You’re not one to have favorites, though you couldn’t help wonder how extraordinary she was. She’s always taking charge in demonstrating the lessons to everyone and improving every session in the 3 years she’s joined the academy. “Come in! Come in!”

At age 7, she’s gotten taller through the years, above the average from how you see it. She must have amazing genetics. Her legs sauntered in seconds to you. Sitting down across you, she marveled at your setup. Specifically, at the fresh pointe shoes.

“Are those yours, Teacher (Y/N)?” She perked up, caressing its soft fabric and playing with the mini bows of the drawstrings.

“Yes, it is, Minji!” You answered while trying to insert the thin thread through the small eye of the needle. “Why are you still here? Is your nanny stuck in traffic or something?”

“My nanny went on sudden leave, so my dad’s the one fetching me. But I think he’s running late from his job.”

Oh, this was a first to know about her father. In all the years she’s been your student, you rarely caught sight of him, even in recitals. Maybe he sat in an unknown section, but you’re pretty much acquainted with all the parents of your students. Even if some were snobbier than the rest because they wanted their child to have more stage time, you still got to know them out of respect. Quite odd, if you said so yourself.

After deep concentration, the thread triumphantly passed through the eye so you tied the two ends of the thread in a double knot. Seeing as Minji attentively watched you, you tasked her to cut the ribbons of your shoes according to the trail of pencil marks. This was so she wouldn’t cut it too short or too long. While she did that, you hammered your shoes against the floor to soften the hard front, bending the shank back and forth so the arch of your feet could move without difficulty later.

Minji wasn’t expecting such loud sounds, her entire body shaken awake. Her facial expression was priceless, explaining to her, “Once you get your first pointe shoes in a few years, this is one of the basic things you need to do so your feet won’t hurt too much while dancing.”

“Will you be there to teach me how to make my pointe shoes?”

“Absolutely! Come to me first then I’ll mentor you all that I know.”

The process of sewing and breaking new pointe shoes engraved your mind since your adolescent years, with changes along the way. Inspired by some tricks from your former teachers, but there were some differing rituals you followed. There’s no definite process of it, just as long you’re comfortable to dance after.

With your feet, you stepped on the hard boxes of the shoes to soften it more, creating a popping sound. Followed by sewing your elastic bands in. For your ribbons, you liked to burn the edges with a lighter so the thread of it won’t run. Kindly asking your cute assistant for the lighter beside her, you scanned the edges back and forth the flame. In seconds, the edges had a distinct mark, fully closed. From there, you slid your feet to your shoes to make final sewing adjustments. Sewing your ribbons took you another few minutes, plus adding superglue inside the shoe so the shoe won’t collapse when it unstiffens and scratching the shank with a cutter so you won’t slip later while dancing.

Voila, the final product is done! Hopefully, it can last you a week at least.

“Wow, Teacher (Y/N), it looks pretty!” Minji applauded, collecting the mess you’ve both made to dispose of later. You, on the other hand, gave her your thanks once you applied some bandages on your big toes and put on your toe pads. Slipping inside the shoes and tying them, you rose up back to your feet and headed to the bar to break them in. From plies-relevésto forced arches, the shoes gave you the sensation that they were an extension of your feet. The ease flowed through, meaning you were ready to practice your variations.

While you stepped your shoes in rosin for friction, your curious student moved to the front where the mirror lied to watch what you’ve prepared.

“What variation are you dancing to?”

“This is the Gamzatti variation from La Bayadere.” You replied, tapping the play button on your phone and racing to your position on the side. Talking a short ballet walk, you strongly prepared your arms before the music of the orchestra takes off.

This variation consisted of a lot of jumps and turns. Grand jetés, attitude turns, chaîné turns, you needed a lot of core control and proper spotting so you won’t get dizzy. The thrilling music lessened your nerves because you enjoyed learning this piece from one of the principal dancers, smiling and letting the music guide your legs. Once you nailed 3 consecutive grand jetés, the variation ended with a sus-sous and the wrists of your hands flicking upwards.

Holding it for 5 more seconds, you landed back on your feet with heavy breathing and a need for water. But before you could, small claps and cheers from Minji in front erupted. Momentarily, you’ve forgotten her presence because dancing solo puts you in your own space. You’d never let anyone take you away from it.

“Teacher (Y/N), that was wonderful! Are you performing that in the summer recital?”

Yikes, she’s right but she wasn’t meant to see it yet. Solo performances from the company members for the recital were top secret, only unveiled during the production rehearsal. Well, you didn’t think this through, but you didn’t mind.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Time ticked a lot faster today, only 10 minutes left until the company class on the ground floor whereas you were in the second. Just a few steps down the stairs away, yet Minji was still here. You only presumed that within your hour break, her father could’ve made it already. But maybe he’s stuck in traffic or at work.

“Minji, my class starts soon. Have you contacted your father?”

“I already texted him earlier, but he hasn’t responded. This happens often, he’s a busy man.” She bowed in front of you suddenly. “I’m sorry, Teacher (Y/N) for the hassle.”

“Oh no, please!” You shook your hands so she’d stop. Because this situation was relatively new, you were unsure of how to handle it. Or that was until you remembered what Ten texted you earlier. “Minji, the blinds of the main studio are going to be lifted so anyone from the outside can view us practicing. Would you like to watch until your dad gets here?”

With her insistent nodding, she situated herself in one of the seats in the front row. When you entered the main studio, your two close companions already carried a metal barre to the center and leaned towards it while observing you walking to them in your flat shoes.

“I see we have a bit of an audience here.” Ten glimpsed at the young girl, astonished by the many dancers prepping and chatting away with their cliques from the glass barrier.

“Her dad isn’t here yet, and you did say the blinds were up today. Might as well give her a show while she waits, you know.” You lifted your right leg to the top barre, stretching it with your arms.

“Hmmm, shouldn’t her dad be more cautious though? It’s getting late and it’s a Thursday. Doesn’t she have school or something?” Sicheng pointed out, discarding his muscle tee to straighten out his leotard.

“That’s not my business though. She’s just my student, and since she’s still here, I have to entertain her while she waits.”

Before your friends said anything back, the artistic director of the ballet company strutted her way to the center of the room. It’s a common rule here that once she entered, everyone must be silent to listen and race to any free spot in the numerous barres spread out if they haven’t.

“Alright, everyone. We’ll do the typical barre, then before doing across the floor exercises, I’ll be requesting those performing solos already in the recital to dance any variation tonight as another evaluation on who deserves to perform twice.” She eyed the pianist directly beside her. “Proceed first with two demi-pliés then one grand plié. Don’t forget to do the port de bras of each position.”

As the live piano music played, your focus was divided. Partly properly executing the exercise while your artistic director roamed each barre area, partly thinking about what variation to perform. This was a first for the company, and everyone was just stunned to hear the breaking news. It’d be nice to get an extra opportunity to showcase to people your potential.

30-40 minutes flew by quickly. As the guys carried the bars to the side to clear out the floor and the girls changed to their pointe shoes, the artistic director ordered all the performers of the recitals to stand in a line in front of her. Everyone else was seated around the room, so the interested eyes of everyone were on you. There were 10 performers, half are from the corps and the other half are either demi-soloists or soloists. You and Sicheng stood beside each other, internally shaking with nerves under the intimidating eyes of the artistic director. She used to be a principal dancer for the Stuttgart Ballet in Germany before moving back to Seoul, making her undeniably capable of leading all of you.

“Okay,” From her seated position observing the 10 performers, her finger pointed at you directly. “Ms. (Y/L/N) (Y/N), you perform first.”

Your nerves intensified and more sweat streamed out your upper body. Even if going first felt more relieving, no one was ever brave enough to perform individually in front of the esteemed artistic director. Principal dancers aside from Ten that you’re close with were intimidated when they have 1-on-1 or partnering sessions with her. But anyhow, in less than 2 minutes, you’d be done. This wasn’t the first time she’s had your full attention either, so you’ll treat it like the other individual performances you’ve had.

You smiled to yourself when the other soloists left you alone, while you gave the name of the variation you’re dancing to the pianist. Running to the side to put on a practice tutu, the artistic director asked, “What will you be dancing for us tonight, (Y/N)?”

“I’ll be dancing Queen of the Dryads from Don Quixote.”

The last time you did this variation was 3 years ago during the recital that didn’t change your position as a soloist. Even if this variation hurt to think about for a while, it was still one of your favorites to watch and do. Moving on, you could only muse how powerful and beautiful you felt at that time. This isn’t an easy piece to perform in your opinion. Yet according to the members of the company, this was their favorite solo of yours.

As the starting notes unfolded, you took a deep breath and elegantly walked into the frame. You only wished you wore your fake crown again for this. Minimal smiling and light arms, you imagined yourself as an actual queen who captured the eyes of many. In this case, your fellow seniors and juniors held their breaths at the captivating sight of you.

Off you go into a series of glissade jeté developpé on relevé at elevating heights, then a fouetté arabesque and another arabesque on relevé before ballet walking again to the side to dance across the stage. Sissonne to the front, right developpé to the front on relevé, pique to prepare for a single pirouette, you gracefully did a chassé to the front twice and stood on your toes with a sus-sous.

Doing it a few more times, the climax of the entire variation was nearing. Returning to the center, you took another deep breath and lifted your left leg for the Italian fouettés. Spotting to the front and back while maintaining your balance, the variation approached its end with lame duck turns, posing with your arms were positioned at a 45-degree angle, your back slightly arched and your left leg doing a tendu derriére. Your eyes reflected at the mirror in front, surveying your alignment. Once your 5-second hold was finished, you properly put your arms down and closed your back leg into 5th position.

The applause from everyone in the room roared, Ten and Sicheng wolf-whistling even for more support. It’s a usual thing every time any of you perform individually, and no one minded it. The artistic director grinned, giving a quiet clap from the front before calling out the next performer, who was from the corps. Bowing to everyone hastily, you paid more attention to spot your student by the window. She was smiling ear to ear, waving both hands at you.

“You did amazing, Teacher!” She mouthed. Hearing words of praise from members was one thing, but hearing them from students was another. You’re so used to watching them and giving them your compliments that you often forget that you’re a dancer first before a teacher. Seeing them all delighted, saying that it motivates them more, showed that you’re doing a great job teaching them. You’re a reflection of what you pass down, and all you want was for them to be the best they could be.

From her jolly expression, a tall masculine silhouette hovered a part of the window. Her instinct of giving a brighter smile when the hand of said silhouette patted her head then carried her duffel bag again, that could only mean one thing. Excusing yourself to the artistic director, you stepped out to bid your goodbye and maybe meet her father. Minji and the tall man were about to leave the building if it weren’t for your breathy voice calling them out.

“Seo Minji and Mr. Seo?”

They stopped their tracks. Minji was fast to react, familiar with your voice and racing towards you for a sweaty hug. Meanwhile, your focus shifted once the masculine silhouette came into full view. You finally understood why Minji’s growth spurt spiked up, noticing that he was taller than Sicheng.

The top buttons of his shirt were off, yet he kept his formal blazer on. His hair was a bit tousled, some strands falling in front of his forehead. He must’ve run here. Peeking through were some roots of his scruff growing. His eyebags were almost as dark as his brown hair. Yet by the way his Rolex remained spotless, you blatantly assumed that he was more than well-off. Especially when the ballet academy was one of the most prestigious ones in Seoul.

Out of all the parents you’ve met, none of them appeared youthful like him.

“Teacher (Y/N)?” Thanks to Minji, you moved your staring eyes away from him. This was another first, since meeting only the fathers of your students wasn’t your norm. Meeting young-looking fathers, to be specific.

“O-Oh,” You ate your words, suddenly blanking out. “You’re leaving me without saying goodbye, Minji? Not polite of you.”

“My father was rushing right after watching your performance, and I don’t know why.” She responded, her finger scratching the top of her head in confusion. Speaking of said father, his strong presence appeared right in front of you. The wrinkles of his forehead creased while his eyes barely looked at yours.

“Uhm,” His fingers toyed with his Rolex. “I apologize for my tardiness. I got caught up in work and all, plus her nanny le-”

“Mr. Seo.” You halted his rambling, already aware of the situation. Like father, like daughter. “It’s fine. Minji loved watching us practice while waiting, and she wasn’t a bother either. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Phew.” He swiped an imaginative bead of sweat from his forehead, displaying his relief with his playful nature.

At age 23, Johnny Seo started his own company in the fashion scene and it grew internationally in the coming years. Then when Minji unexpectedly joined the picture, he’s been multi-tasking to make ends meet. Lately, as a CEO, he has had meetings and conferences on a daily. So, his position as a single father was always tested. It worsened when he rarely has proper time to spend any time with Minji unless it’s the weekend or late in the evening. Breaking it down, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to meet you. It was more like he couldn’t when his schedules were packed from head to toe.

Having the guilt of taking your precious time, “Seriously though, I am sorry for being late. Her nanny resigned suddenly, and I have no time to find her replacement.”

“Mr. Seo, again, don’t worry about it. As her teacher and a company member, I am practically here 24/7 so it won’t be a nuisance at all if this happens again.”

“Thank you so much, Teacher (Y/N). That is your name, right?” He planted his palm on his forehead, stressed. “Being a single parent is hard. I am always forgetting things.”

A part of you couldn’t restrain from feeling sorry for his struggle. Taking care of a child should be the work of both the mother and father, not one of them being absent. You’ve feared this would harm Minji, but she’s a strong girl.

“The fact you didn’t forget to fetch Minji despite the late time is still something to be happy over. I’m not a parent or anything, but parenting, in general, is a challenge.” You added an insight, patting the head of the young girl beside you. “Cut yourself some slack, Mr. Seo. I’m sure Minji still loves you, right?”

Minji shouted a big yes, now clinging to the leg of her father. “It’s okay, dad. Really.”

Over the years, Johnny has been doubtful of his parenting skills. He was an only child, and he struggled to ask for guidance from his own parents due to the shame of having a kid at a young age. So, he’d ask for help from his other friends and co-workers. No matter how many times they’ve reassured him that he’s doing well, he’s an overthinker who always reflected on the bad scenarios. There’s also that pressure to find someone who can fill that absent position not just for Minji, but for himself too. No matter how many girls he’s asked out or been set up with, he failed in the love department badly.

It’s the soothing way you voiced out your truth that made all these negative thoughts running through his head freeze briefly. Over the past 3 years since Minji started ballet, she always had a great story about you to share. One of them was how ballet made her a lot happier because of your influence. If he had at least an hour of his day to meet any of his daughter’s mentors, it would’ve been you.

“Do feel free to call me Johnny instead.” He casually introduced himself, taking his hand out for you to shake. “Mr. Seo makes me feel like I’m at work right now.”

Despite his informal approach, you understood his intentions and returned the action with a promising smile. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Johnny.”

“Pleasure is all mine, Teacher (Y/N).”

Earlier, the nerves from performing in front of the artistic director died down fast. But for some reason, they rose back up when you’ve spoken to this man in a matter of minutes. As someone whose feelings don’t flourish in a single glance, why did this man specifically deliver you such a strong effect?

If it weren’t for Ten calling for your name by the door, you would’ve held on to Johnny’s hand longer, which would’ve been inappropriate. Letting go first, this was your cue to return to your class.

“I must head back inside, Johnny. Don’t sweat on fetching your daughter late, though she is still a student with school the following day. Right, Minji?”

Minji nodded as Johnny kept that mind, knowing where he has to improve next. “Yes, Teacher (Y/N). Thank you again, sincerely. I’ll definitely see you again in the coming days until Minji has a new nanny.”

“That’s no problem with me at all, Johnny.”

Soon as Johnny held his daughter’s hand to exit the studio and you were re-entering the studio with an impatient Ten, he swerved swiftly as if he forgot something.

“Oh by the way Teacher (Y/N), I saw your whole performance awhile ago. I was blown away, you deserved the applause.”

Although you could only distinguish his silhouette, you didn’t suppose he watched you from head to toe. Most parents or nannies would’ve dragged their kids out of the studio once they find them like they were on a tight schedule, so this was novel to experience. That performance showed your prime too.

“Thank you, Johnny. See you again soon.”

Giving a final nod, you led yourself back to the studio, not bothering to acknowledge the erupting heat on your cheeks and entire body. Not to sound narcissistic, but compliments weren’t foreign to you. You’re conscious of the hard work that you put in your talent and if they pointed out your greatness, why would you deny it? However, receiving one from Johnny was like gearing your engine with new fuel.

Before you could try to reject these harboring feelings, Ten was fast to pick up on it. You cannot hide anything from this man at all because body language was like another language he’s fluent in (aside from the other 5). Unlucky for you, the saga continued.

“You’re so into dilfs, (Y/N)!” He shrieked in your ear, nudging your shoulder repetitively. He placed things in his own way, yet they always shocked you because it was so inappropriate. Typical Ten for you.

“Shut up, Ten!” You objected, watching the other performers. You’ve improved in ignoring his remarks over time. That was until Sicheng sat down beside you after his solo and got up in your business. That placed you in the middle of boys from the water sign clan of astrology. They just loved getting down to your love life, going raunchy and whatnot.

“Who’s into dilfs, Ten?”

“A Miss (Y/N) beside you, who met Minji’s dad awhile ago, was basically eye-fucking him.” Ten elaborated, planting his elbows on your leg and gave you a sneaky glare. “Minji’s dad is fine as fuck, guys! I’m telling you, like a literal god! I’m surprised this is the first time he showed up here after 2-3 years?”

“How come (Y/N) is always getting students with good-looking parents? Especially the single moms.” Sicheng slumped his shoulders, attempting to get your attention too. “Is he that hot, (Y/N)?”

“Yah.” Sighing with annoyance, you’ve given up trying to appreciate one of the corps dancers with her rendition of Dulcinea from Don Quixote. “Don’t speak of Johnny like that. You barely know the man, yet you talk about him so unprofessionally."

“Oh, Johnny is his name, huh?” Sicheng sing-songed, bobbing his head. He’s certainly going to stalk him later on social media, you felt it in your chest. Like it was ESPN or something.

“Talking about being unprofessional, yet you’re here referring him as Johnny, not Mr. Seo.” Ten barked back, his lips pursed and one eyebrow lifted.

Just as soon as you could retaliate, the artistic director’s velvety voice boomed the room.

“Alright, thank you to the performers. I will deliberate with the staff and principal dancers over the weekend, and let you know the results on Monday. Now please, let’s proceed to the center.”

Everyone began to spread out on the wide floor, snatching a good position so they could monitor themselves in the mirror. Maybe you’ll defend yourself later after class because now, you needed to beat everyone else and have a crystal-clear view of yourself doing these following exercises.

In the meantime, Johnny was in the middle of driving Minji home. He had a designated chauffeur, but he gave him the night off because he wanted to spend time with Minji. Around this time, she’d be sleeping soundly, but instead, she’s boosting with so much life. She hasn’t even eaten dinner yet, which was the first thing on Johnny’s agenda now.

Playing Coldplay in the car, Minji belted some lyrics from her favorite songs while Johnny smiled to himself while listening to her attentively. Taking a breath, her thoughts reverted to her fantastic ballet teacher and shared them with her father.

“Dad! Don’t you just think Teacher (Y/N) is so cool? Ugh, I want to be just like her when I grow up.”

“Oh, to become a ballerina like her, you have to work hard every day and memorize lessons fast. Are you up for it, Minji?”

“Absolutely, dad! I want to pull off perfect jumps and turns like her one day!”

In the other after-school activities Johnny enrolled Minji in the past, none of them compared to the passion she had for ballet. Her work ethic was alike to Johnny’s: if they want something, they’ll do whatever it takes to make it possible.

Aside from being a star student in her school, she’s aiming to be a star ballerina. Being the supportive father he is, Johnny was on board to do what it takes to make it happen. Unlike his parents trying to mold him into the next heir of their company, he’s all ears to the dreams of his daughter. His only dream for her was to be live long and happy, not to merely pass on anything.

Johnny lost so much in his young life, so he doesn’t want to lose Minji in any way. As much as he loves his profession, he wanted to be an active father as much as time allowed it. He mostly received complaints from others that he’s not prioritizing his time well, but after hearing your kind words, this heavy weight on his shoulders decreased. All this doubt started to vanish after meeting you for the first time.

“Dad! Isn’t Teacher (Y/N) so beautiful?” Minji honored whilst gazing at the twinkling night sky. “She loves what she does and shines at it.”

Johnny was accustomed to his female co-workers throwing themselves at him due to his attractiveness, more than flattered even to have them feeling weak for him. Yes, there were times he used it to his advantage, some he frankly turned down.

However, the radiance you carried whether you’re dancing or not was something Johnny couldn’t cease wondering about. Unknown to him, he’s the one getting weak. Behold, an unlocked first for the confident CEO.

“Yes, Minji. I do think Teacher (Y/N) is absolutely beautiful.”

470 notes · View notes

bukojuiice · 4 years ago

Text

25 lives — katsuki bakugo

ೃ pairing: pro! hero katsuki bakugo x fem! reader

ೃ tags: alternate universe/time traveler au, a lot of angst, fluff but the sentimental and nostalgic kind, flashbacks, bakugo travels through so many parallel worlds just to find you.

ೃ warnings: strong language. wc: 4,764 words

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ i created a spotify playlist for this fic, feel free to listen to it while reading here!

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr! if you want to be a part of my mha taglist. send me an ask! ♡

ೃ Heavily Inspired by one of my favorite written poetry/prose of all time, 25 Lives by Tongari. The poem will be heavily referenced and mentioned in this fic! The lines from said poem can be identified [❝ like this❞.]

ೃ After losing the love of his life in a brutal villain incident, Katsuki Bakugo had lost a part of him. Nothing and no one could ever bring her back. He became the shell of a person he once was; fiery, bright, and the driven #2 Pro-hero in the country. He continues to live life with guilt, all hope still lost until he is gifted a time device that can transport him to parallel universes, dimensions and alternate worlds, where he begins his quest to find his lost love. Crossing a hundred of realities and living twenty-five lifetimes just to bring her back into his arms.

“Stars die. they die and they are not sorry

No matter how much the moon says otherwise.

Stars die and your whole galaxy explodes.”

For the majority of Katsuki Bakugo’s life, he is the main star of the show.

Then, you came into his life and made everything else feel like a rehearsal.

In a world where he mostly treated everyone in his life as extras, you were the main heroine.

When he put up walls around himself, you brought them crashing down.

To him, the concept of love and loving someone romantically was foreign. It always came to him as a question, If whether or not love was something worth living for and sacrificing for, giving your half to another person to be whole, when he can already live for himself.

It was always a question… until you became the answer.

“Use my new baby wisely! Okay, Bakugo-san!?”

Hatsume Mei, a schoolmate of Katsuki back in his UA days, warned him cautiously. She was now an esteemed scientist, one of the best in the country. Katsuki was the first one to come into her mind when she finally completed her new invention, a gadget that can transfer a person’s soul and being to a different body; one in a different space time continuum.

It was as if living a new and different life.

In another universe.

The concept of the device was pretty straight-forward. You are able to go to different dimensions and live the life of your other self; then if it wasn’t the world you wanted to live in, you are free to disappear and go to another parallel universe. It raised skepticism at first and it sounded too good to be true, as how could something as extravagant and complex as this become possible? But they were living in a world full of heroes with the most unique and bizarre quirks, so why can’t it be possible?

This was his chance.

Maybe, with this, he can bring back (Y/N)…

All along, there had been hope.

He was finally going to see her again.

His thoughts bring him back to the day of the incident.

What was reported to be a regular villain attack, escalated into something that no one could expect.

She was the only casualty-

And he was a minute too late.

Was he not fast enough? What could have happened if he had gotten there in time? Hundreds of hundreds of scenarios of what could’ve been still continue to haunt him until this very day, what could have happened if he had only arrived there earlier to save her? The things he would do to see her beautiful face and feel her calming presence once more, to see the loving woman he went back to after a tiring day, to pepper kisses on, to be dancing with in the kitchen at 2 am, to be the sharing the first cup of coffee with in the morning, the one to wake up to every single morning…

The one whom you’d share the rest of your life with.

But, now… that life was gone.

Seeing your limp and unmoving body surrounded by debris was the most devastating experience and image he had to see and go through in his entire life.

He could do nothing but hold you in his arms, gritting his teeth, tears streaming down from his cheeks, feeling nothing but frustration and powerlessness as the world came crashing down on him.

“Dammit (Y/N!) Why you? Why did it have to be you?”

Your resting eyes and dormant body remain steady and… cold. Your boyfriend rests his head on your shoulder, trying to hide that he was bawling in pain and sorrow. Katsuki began to feel the weight of his emotions pulling him down, his thoughts reminding him of his past failures and mistakes, and now that this accident that met your demise became one of those said mistakes, how will he be able to recover? If he was able to overcome his demons and insecurities solely because of you, his friends, and his parental figures to guide him… will he even be able to do the same once again?

He was the #2 Pro Hero too… What will the public think of him?

After he had failed to save the one that he had loved the most?

It has been a year since then.

Katsuki’s life went on without you.

Well, of course it did, Of course it does. It was just an ending, they told him. Not the end.

He told the general public that he had been slowly recovering and that he was able to bounce back to his usual explosive self. Still yelling, still being the competitive and pompous ass he is, even as a Pro-hero. But his friends and family weren’t dumb. Kirishima, his closest confidante knew there was something wrong with him. His parents noticed too that he still wasn’t himself. All of them did.

They all knew Katsuki still hasn’t recovered from the incident at all.

I mean, who would right?

It was perfectly normal to mourn. It was part of the healing process. The Pro Hero Dynamight still can’t move on and that feeling was valid. It takes time to fully heal and he had already made it clear time and time again that he will never ever love someone like the way he loved (Y/N).

But, if there was a way to bring her back, then he wanted to take that chance.

When Izuku heard of news from Hatsume Mei’s newest invention, Katsuki’s green-haired childhood friend immediately told him about it.

Although he was unsure at first, the quirky scientist assured him to wait a little bit more for the trials of the device to finish if he wasn’t sure about it. And when her test subject came back safely, bringing home their lost relative from another universe, that was when Katsuki became sure of his plans.

This was the key to bring (Y/N) back.

It wasn’t going to be easy but he would do absolutely everything just to see you again.

And with that, the day of his world-jumping adventure (literally) had finally arrived.

Bidding farewell to his family and friends, a small gut feeling inside of him says that this might be the last time he’ll ever see them again… and so, in the most Katsuki Bakugo fashion ever, he thanked everyone present that day… indirectly. He expressed appreciation to those who supported him and helped him throughout his life.

Now, it was his time to find the girl who had been there for him the most.

(through his darkest times and saddest nights, she was the ray of sunshine.)

He took a deep breath, turning to his loved ones one last time, a solemn nod yet the cheekiest smirk present on his face as he disappears, whisked away to another world.

The parallel universes that he was going through dropped him into different years of his life. So, Bakugo had to adapt to knowing what age his other self was in the timeline he was currently in. He was lucky that most of the time he landed in a world and at the time where he was a student at UA.

The time where he originally met you.

He needed to take note of every world he had been too because not only were each and every one so different. Katsuki wasn’t a poetic person (his vocabulary mostly composed of colorful words.) but as he continued to jump through so many parallel universes, he had begun to take note of the ones that stood out to him the most. In the form of a poem, one that he thought you would appreciate when he finally reunites with you. Another you at least.

[❝ The very first time I remember you, you are blonde and don’t love me back.❞

�� This is the first parallel universe in where you were an upperclassman. From Class 3-A. A friend of Nejire, one of the big three. Katsuki was so delighted to see you, only for you to not know him. He was currently one of the most popular students in UA, of course he is, but you paid him no attention, passing by him in the hallways as if he was just another regular freshman, instead, you were seen holding hands with some slimey-looking guy that Katsuki has never ever seen in school. This wasn’t you. Or, at least, this wasn’t the (Y/N) he was looking for. This was only the first parallel world. He wasn’t going to give up.

[❝ The next time you are brunette, and you do.❞ ]

✧ Unrequited love. What a stupid cliché. In this world, he was an idiot too far up his own ass, whilst the entirety of Class 1-A loathed him and did not look up to him like the way they did in his original world. Katsuki was so caught up in trying to change his personality, that he failed to notice you. The girl who was always in the back of the classroom, looking out the window. You were always just there. Never noticed. Admiring him from afar.

[❝ After a while I give up trying to guess if the color of your hair means anything. because even if you don’t exist, I am always in love with you. ❞ ]

✧ This was practically the same world that Katsuki originated from. Only you were missing. Every single event that transpired in his life, had happened in this parallel universe. The USJ Incident, The Forest Camp Training, The Trip to to Nabu Island… everything. There was this huge empty space that you were supposed to fill. Except, you didn’t exist in this universe. It was the quietness and the lack of your presence in this world that bothers him. Katsuki wonders how this other self of his could continue this life without you in the picture.

[❝ I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together, when you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me. ❞ ]

✧ This universe surprised him with puppy love. Here, he was brought back to his childhood. You were his dearest friend and childhood sweetheart. The three of you along with Deku, were a trio. At a very young age, you kept his feet on the ground, never wanting him to think that he was above everyone else despite his powerful quirk. The young Bakugo was able to share his frustrations and insecurities to you, while you always listened. You were always there. He talked about his quirk and his complaints about how the other kids only liked him for his powers, but not for who he actually is. You continued to support him and love him wholesomely for who he was and he was glad to have a friend like you and…. Deku. (as much as he didn’t want to admit it

However, it ended there. The two of you lying down on the hill, looking up at the stars, and shyly holding hands. Just randomly faded away. And in a blink of an eye, the timeline shifts forward to middle school. His worst years, he would say.

He was so eager to see you again and hopefully remain friends with Izuku after all this time.

Yet, you were nowhere to be found and… Izuku wasn’t his friend anymore.

Apparently, the two of you became distant after graduating elementary because you moved away and never got into contact with him ever again.

This was too heartbreaking for this universe’s Bakugo. To have such a wonderful and healthy social life when he was a kid, only for all of that to just disappear when he started middle school. On to the next parallel world then.

[❝ I love how you play along with my bad ideas, before you grow up and realize they are bad ideas. And in our times together I have many bad ideas.❞ ]

✧ The Sludge Villain. A very traumatizing experience that still haunts Katsuki until this very day. In this world, you were still friends with him. Always following him around and making sure he didn’t get into trouble. He continuously pushes you away, telling you that he didn’t need you and you shouldn’t be controlling of him.

You finally had enough of his arrogance that day and… got into an argument with him. It was the same day as the Sludge Villain incident.

It happened in this universe too.

After he was captured by said villain, you ran after him, tears welling up in your eyes, wanting to reach out and save him. The sludge villain noticed you, and became more interested in your quirk, targeting you instead. All Might was a little too late and…

The incident led you to losing your quirk and having to live in a hospital for the rest of your years.

It felt like a long bad dream. One that reminded him of your demise in his original world. Bakugo immediately teleported to a different parallel universe. Not wanting to deal with that kind of sadness ever again.

[❝ When we meet as adults you’re always much more discerning. I don’t blame you. Yet, always, you forgive me.❞ ]

✧ In this universe, you were in the same hero agency. Not knowing each other prior to this. Bakugo was the new hotshot that all the other heroes in your agency were going crazy about, just because he was from UA and was attractive. You didn’t get the hype and why everyone else was fawning over him. He was a Pro-hero just like all of you. So, when you finally met him in the flesh, you could immediately tell he was a conceited ass by the way he looked at you and by the way he presented himself.

Unbeknownst to you, Dynamight’s heart was fluttering with happiness at the sight of seeing you again. Your Pro-hero self. Caring, Bad-ass, Confident, and Courageous… It was you.

Almost you.

After being partnered up with him in hero work for the past months, he began to turn soft, a bit annoying, and act flustered whenever you were around which you immediately thought was very out of character for him.

Then he confesses.

You said no.

It just didn’t feel right. First, your hero career was more important to you and you just couldn’t reciprocate those feelings back. The two of you weren’t for each other, and he understood that. He left you for a moment to go get get some “fresh air.”

Bakugo was getting frustrated. His mind going hazy at the thought that he’s gone to so many parallel worlds yet still haven’t found you is slowly beginning to take a toll on him. But he still wasn’t going to give up.

[❝ As if you understand what’s going on, and you’re making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn’t exist, and the ones where we just, barely, never meet. I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.❞ ]

✧ The next alternate worlds he went to were an absolute mess. One of them where the two of you barely meet. Merely passing by each other in the street, opening the door for you or entering the same convenience store. Fate not wanting the two of you to meet. Like magnets being pulled away from each other. A romance movie without the romance. As if telling Katsuki that the two of you were never meant to meet in this universe. Don’t even bother.

Then there’s the other one where you were a merciless villain and he was a pro-hero who had to defeat you. He couldn’t do that. You overpowered him.

But, hey, at least he got to see you as the girl who didn’t put up with his shit and could care less about him. Not to mention you were a part of the organization that was against everything that he stood for as a hero.

It was a tragedy. Not the Romeo and Juliet kind, but reminiscent of it. With Romeo sacrificing his life, yet Juliet remains the same and indifferent.

[❝ But when all’s said and done, I’d surrender to you in other ways. Even though each time, I know I’ll see you again, I always wonder is this the last time? Is that really you? And what if you’re perfectly happy without me?❞ ]

✧ Bakugo was finally teleported to a reality where he was a high school student again. However, he wasn’t studying in UA. Instead, having to go to a regular high school (which he was totally irritated about because why is his parallel self here going to a regular school in the first place? What happened to him?) The two of you pass by each other on your way home. Going off in different directions. You were a student at UA, laughing and mindlessly chatting with his friends. Mina, Kirishima, Denki, and Sero…

All of you barely even noticing him and acknowledging his presence.

At this moment, he realized that maybe you weren’t meant to meet in this world again. He felt like a simple character in the background. A small speck of dust in your universe. God, why was he thinking this? This wasn’t like him. He slowly lost his confidence as he goes from one parallel world to the next to find you. He couldn’t even motivate and give himself pep talks anymore. Has he reached the breaking point? Is he still even himself? Is he still Katsuki Bakugo?

Maybe, he should just give up trying at this point. Every single alternate reality so far all ended in tragedy. Not once were the two of you able to reconcile and have a happy ending. It was not like him to give up, but the chances at this point were slim and in each alternate universe, Bakugo just become more and more disappointed with how things turned out with your other-worldly selves…

It was as if the only universe where the two of you became happy was in his original world.

Was he going to stop here?

[❝ Ah, but I don’t blame you; I’ll never burn as brilliantly as you. It’s only fair that I should be the one to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes.❞ ]

✧ This was it. The twenty-fifth parallel world. Hopefully, the last one that he has to go to and hopefully the one where he finally he finds you.

Bakugo jumps into the portal, expecting the vibrant colors and hues of the city to appear around him, only for him to be transported to a white box.

In the middle of this white void was a cherry blossom tree. Blooming in the prettiest pink colors, and swaying with the non-existent wind. Near it was a small bench. A feminine figure sitting on it, facing the tree.

It was you.

You.

Katsuki knows it’s you because it’s the same dress you wore that day.

A beautiful blue dress that the two of you bought when you were out for some errands. It was the kind of blue that reminded you of the sky, which is why you bought it in the first place. You were saving it for that day, to wear when you visit Katsuki at work and drop him off his bento lunch.

That day.

Instead of a sky reflecting off of your dress, it became grey. Like the color of a storm instead.

He remembers fondly what happened at that same morning. He was getting ready for hero work, whilst you were rummaging for something inside the closet.

“Ahah!” You exclaimed, finally pulling out something to wear. The sound of the wardrobe hangers clinking from the inside.

Katsuki wanted to take a peek of you but you were giving him no chances. You see him trying to take a look when you noticed his blonde hair spiking up more than usual.

“Hey! No peeking!” You giggled, hiding yourself even further inside your closet.

“Gah. Come on! Just one?” He groans, teasing you, trying his best to pull out his puppy tone. “Please?”

“No.” You deadpanned seriously and you could practically feel him pop a vein.

“Hey! What was that for!? I was just joking-“

“I was just joking too you weirdo.” You giggled again, stepping out of the closet. You take a deep breath and straighten your dress, twirling around for him to see. “How do I look?”

He dashes towards you, picking you up from the ground as he begins to twirl you around.

“Katsuki! Put me down!” You chuckle, feeling his strong arms wrapped around you. “You’re going to be late for work!” You tap his back lightly, trying to get him to put you back on the ground.

“You’re beautiful. You always are.” He says seriously. Not a tinge of playfulness or abrasive in his voice. He was still holding you up, but positioned you in a way that the both of your faces were inches away from each other, gazing at each other’s eyes.

The both of you lean in for a sweet and blissful kiss. It felt light and comforting. A feeling that you always have whenever you were with him. A very giddy feeling.

And at that same day, when he saw you again, surrounded by darkness, your eyes closed, your body tranquil and your gentle face looking ever so at peace…

You still looked beautiful, even then.

“Suki-kun.” You wave at him from afar, a solemn smile present on your face. You beckon him to sit next to you but he hesitates.

“(Y/N)…” His voice cracks, not really noticeable, but you could hear it. “Tch… are you.. real? Is this really you?”

“It’s me, love.” You continue to show him your smile. As you blink, you were suddenly caught in his arms. Katsuki was hugging you tightly like there was no tomorrow, his head nestled on your shoulder. His hug felt warm yet cold, like he had been hugging skeletons all this time whilst trying to find you.

You had no words to say to him.

It was just that kind of moment.

Hearing your voice, hugging you tight, holding your hand, and seeing your smile was enough for him at the moment.

This was you.

Actually you.

“It seemed like a lifetime ago when I began searching for you.” He whispered softly, his voice still so rough yet loving all the same.

A lifetime of pain and sorrow. Of disappointment and missed opportunities.

“Ah…” Your voice trails off. “We don’t have much time left.”

“Huh? What the hell do you mean?” You untangle yourself from his arms, cupping his cheek and rubbing your thumb whilst he holds your hand still.

“I-I can’t go back to our original universe.” You mumble, trying to fight back the tears and continuing to caress his face. “We can’t go back together.”

“(Y/N)!” Bakugo’s face goes stern, as realization hits him. “Shit! (Y/N)! Look, We can get out of here okay!? There’s this device I have-“ The device on his wrist dissolves into nothing as the room around you begins to be consumed by darkness, like sucking you into a black hole.

“Katsuki… no. It’s hopeless! We can’t-“

“Damn it (Y/N)! I’ve traveled through every fucking imaginable universe possible just to find you again! I’ve gone through hell and back just to see you again! I’m not going to leave without you!”

Before you could answer his rebuttal, the bench that both of you were sitting on vanishes and now the two of you were falling in an endless black hole.

As this parallel world around you began spinning faster and faster, the two of you floated upwards, hands locked tightly together, and your eyes sad and bewildered.

The two of you watched as your faces grew younger back to your high school years, like this universe was going in reverse, moving the both of you backwards in time.

You were still holding onto Katsuki’s hands, trying to savor the last few moments with him as you began to say your goodbyes, tears coursing down your face.

“Katsuki… I know you had seen things you wish you hadn’t. You have done things you wish you could take back and I know you’ve been wondering why you’ve been thrown into all of this, why you had to suffer the way you did and why you had to go through so much just to find me. The ghost of me. And as you were going through all these alternate universes alone and hurting, I wish I could tell you that it’s okay. Even if you don’t find me again, I will always be here. My presence will always be lingering. I will live in your heart, Katsuki Bakugo. You deserve the whole world for traveling through twenty-five lifetimes just to look for me. I love you with all my heart, my soul, my being, and all that is left of me… I love you.”

“I-I love you too. Through all these lifetimes I’ve spent with another you, you will always be the one.” Katsuki mumbled, pulling you for one last kiss.

A kiss ever so soft and sweet, worth all the lives he’s experienced.

“Let’s meet again in another lifetime.”

Time continued to reverse back, to the point you no longer knew who you were with. Their face being blocked by a gleam of light. You were grasping the hands of a stranger, but you didn’t let go. And neither did they.

For a moment, there was a calming presence. A whole new world was opening up like a vortex, swallowing the both of you…

Into a whole new universe.

“(Y/N)-chan! Wait up!”

“Oh? Ochaco-chan!”

The brown-haired girl catches up to you, holding on to your arm as she catches her breath. “Can you believe it’s our first day in UA!?”

“I can’t believe it either!” You giggle along with her, taking in the sight that was the top hero academy of Japan.

It was finally the month of April.

The Cherry blossoms were blooming, symbolizing a time of renewal, a time for change and a time to turn over a new leaf.

Today is your first day in UA Academy.

You still haven’t even grasped the fact that you even got in the first place.

Everything still feels so surreal.

The entrance exams and the excitement you felt whilst waiting for the results to release and now, you were about to step foot into the school of your dreams?

What an amazing start to your high school life indeed.

You and Ochaco were standing in the middle of the walkway, still in awe of all the pretty sights when someone bumped into you.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” You called out.

No response.

You turn to take a good look at the person who knocked against you and it was… a guy.

Blonde. Spiky Hair. Hand in his Pockets. Earphones on. His pants worn loose.

God, what a dork.

“It’s alright (Y/N)-chan! He probably didn’t hear us.” Ochaco assured you, trying to pull you away from him before you could even start a fight.

You sighed, turning to your friend with a smile. “Fine. Fineee. Shall we head to class?”

“Class 1-A! Here we go!” She holds onto your arm once more as the both of you giggle and hop your way into the classroom.

“Ochaco-chan! What are you saying!? You do know I got sorted into a different class right? I’m in Class 1-B!”

“A-ah! You’re right! I’m sorryyyy (Y/N)-chan!”

Bakugo turns his head to look back at your animated figure walking behind him. He stares at you for a good second whilst readjusting the earphone on his left ear, as he too, heads on his way to his Class 1-A.

There is something so delicate about time, so fragile. In a slight moment, you can miss something so pivotal, yet never have the chance to see or witness it ever again.

Feeling the presence of the person you would be spending the rest of your life with, joining the dots in the sky, and wondering when your stars would align.

Until then, you will dream of him, and he will do the same.

It was only a matter of time. You will cross paths again.

[❝ until I find the one where you’ll return to me.❞ ]

- Fin.

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34 @sparkykatsuki @ramunegoddess, @serossimpy @drinktheramune

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo angst #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugo x y/n #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bakugou katsuki x y/n #mha angst #bnha angst #mha x y/n #bnha x y/n

252 notes · View notes

sofwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Each other's biggest ally

Polin Week Day 1: Favorite Quote

“No, his method of attack was a lazy smile, a well-timed joke. If Colin ever lost his temper...

Penelope shook her head slightly, unable even to fathom it. Colin would never lose his temper. At least not in front of her. He'd have to be really, truly—no, profoundly —upset to lose his temper. And that kind of fury could only be sparked by someone you really, truly, profoundly cared about.” - Romancing Mister Bridgerton, pg. 64

The one where Colin profoundly cared and had no choice but to lose his temper.

Type: One-shot, angst, sentimentalism, protective/mywife!Colin, protectective/myhusband!Penelope

Length: 3.3k

Read on ao3! Or continue under the cut

In the late months of the year 1825, Penelope Featherington Bridgerton published her debut novel titled The Wallflower. And in the early months of the year 1826, she relished in the praise of her work and suffered in the consequences of her now-public identity.

The response to her book was generally positive. Whether or not they were willing to admit it, the members of the ton were eager to uncover the scathing details surrounding Mrs. Bridgerton’s former pen name. They devoured the secrets hidden between the lines of the pages- forming their own conclusions and theories of what was fact and what was fiction.

It seemed that after many years of Penelope appearing to be invisible, the gravity of her voice was finally truly understood.

But as in all life, there were complications as well.

One gentleman in particular was quick to make his discontent known, and it was all due to just one short excerpt.

Although Beatrice did not befriend even half of the ton, she had made the acquaintance of nearly everyone at one point. And though they never realized, she scrutinized them almost as much as they disregarded her.

Even with her close examinations, she generally liked the people she met. There were bores, many in fact, as well as those with whom conversation could rarely be carried, but most were reasonably pleasant. There were exceptions, however, as there always are. One such exception was as follows:

It is an earlier season for Beatrice, one still full of wonder and disillusioned hope. She looks at the dancefloor with wistfulness in her eyes, dreaming, praying that her prince charming will notice her from across the room and ask her to take his arm.

He does not, of course. His mind is still focused fully on the small group that surrounds him, drawn to him like a shining star amongst the thinly veiled candlelight. Although the music is certainly too loud and the conversations too many, our heroine can perfectly hear his laughter through the crowded ballroom. She can hear it because she knows it better than she knows her own.

Later that evening, he’ll ask her to dance. He’ll remember her minuscule presence in his life, likely prodded by a sharp finger to his spine and a voice carrying a gentle reminder. And even though she knows why he will do so, knows that it is due to a kind sense of duty rather than true desire, she will cherish it all the same.

Right now, however, Beatrice remains at the edge of the dancefloor, her silent woes interrupted by the familiar voice of her mother.

“Beatrice, dear, this is Mr. Wetherden. Mr. Wetherden, I present to you my daughter, Beatrice Harpenton.”

Another bachelor, this one ranking second-tier rather than third. Her mother seems to have given her more credit this evening, Beatrice thinks as she looks at the familiar face.

The introduction is an unnecessary formality, of course, as are many of their rules; they were made acquaintances during her first season. Nonetheless, society calls for her to curtsy and give a gracious smile, and she obliges.

At the same time, he assesses her similarly to how he did so a few years before. And she sees it immediately, the dismissal that passes over his eyes even before he fully bends into his low bow.

Her mother leaves them to it- the stifled conversation in an even more stifling ballroom. The unfortunate girl in the canary-colored dress stands on the sidelines, trapped in conversation with yet another uninterested bachelor who is just as much forced upon her as she is on him.

He speaks endlessly, unquestionably more for his benefit than hers. He spends fourteen minutes explaining the difference between rugby and football. She suppresses three yawns and is interrupted twenty-six times throughout the topic, clearly expected to be an audience member rather than a participant.

At this time, she thinks this is Mr. Wetherden’s worst offense. Later on, when she is years older, Beatrice discovers that she was sorely mistaken in her youth. That without the cautionary lights of London (albeit often cloudy and forgiving), he is much worse.

She later on learns about his propensity to unwilling women. To frightened young housemaids who are often not given the options that women of a higher class are granted.

Our heroine also finds out later exactly how commonplace such a tendency is. And with it, her vision of social seasons- the one with balls and picnics and musicales- begins to splinter.

Penelope hadn’t named him, of course. She hadn’t named anyone directly.

She couldn’t publish a memoir, not really. Even though she was related to a fine variation of important characters in society, she couldn’t put such a strain on her family, and particularly not on her husband. Her husband, her lovely, amazing husband who supported her through the entire process even despite the fact that so much of their own private history was laid out in the pages of her novel. Penelope had written the truth, which hadn’t been entirely pretty. But Colin had agreed with her that the truth was more important than sheltering their secrets.

But even though she couldn’t publish a direct recounting of her life and experiences with the ton, she’d been unwilling to just hide behind fabricated stories.

Penelope’s telling of that night at the ball wasn’t completely factual. She did not know how many times Phillip Cavender interrupted her during their conversation, nor whether or not Colin had even been present that evening. But the details of the matter weren’t as important to her as shedding light on the entire situation.

She’d been young and naive during her first few seasons, believing that a few nasty comments and looks were really the worst of what society had to offer. Later on, she’d found out that she had been wrong, and that there was much worse than she’d ever known. And when her sister-in-law, Sophie, had recounted the night she and Benedict had met (well, met again), Penelope knew that she had to shed light on the matter. She had to make it clear what happened outside of the fancy dresses and giggling parties.

But as mentioned, such decisions did not come without their objections.

“Thank God, they’re leaving.”

The words came from just a few feet behind them, full of indignancy and bitterness. The couple had been walking together, arm-in-arm, towards the door, quite eager to return home for the evening.

They’d been attending an intimate house party at the request of the gentleman’s mother. She’d been unable to make her attendance that evening and had asked that her son and his wife go in her stead. They hadn’t been particularly excited about the prospect, but they’d agreed for her.

The party itself hadn’t been bad. The food was good, the music was pleasant, and almost everyone in attendance had offered the woman praise for her work. Though they hadn’t exactly been excited to attend, the evening hadn’t been at all poor.

That was, until they’d been nearing the exit and heard the troublesome remark behind them.

Colin glanced down at his wife, who grimaced, her nose scrunching as her eyes closed. They’d been met with a number of sneers and snide comments in the last few weeks, but they never became easier to hear.

With a small sigh, he turned them both around, looking directly at the man holding a glass of port too large and wearing a lip too curled.

Colin gave him a smile, the familiar one he used whenever he was looking at something that both irritated and mildly amused him. “Didn’t see you there, Cavender. So nice of you to offer us a sendoff.”

The opposing man’s mouth turned downwards, a stark contrast to the grin still on Colin’s face. Penelope swallowed, quickly cutting in. “We really must be getting home.”

With a pointed look directed towards her husband, she began pulling him back towards the door. Though Penelope would have loved to see Phillip Cavender get put into his place, she knew far better than to spar with a man holding a petty vendetta.

But before they’d even fully turned around, there was a mocking bark of laughter, followed by a slight slurring of words. “You do everything she tells you then? Follow her around like a lapdog?”

This time, Colin’s brow lifted ever so slightly, the same half-smile still imprinted on his lips. Penelope felt an uncomfortable heat rising up her neck as she reluctantly turned from the door again.

“If it means getting to share my life with this incredible woman,” Colin sent her a small wink before shrugging, “Then, by all means, call me a lapdog.”

There was some tittering around them by the small audience they’d attracted. With a quick glance, Penelope could see the angry lurch in Cavender’s throat, the narrowing of his eyes, the twitching of his fingers as they tightened around his glass.

Please, just let it go. Let us just leave and go home.

But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

“I know what lies she’s spread about me.”

“Oh?” Colin’s face took on a thoughtful expression, one that might have been convincing in any other circumstance. “I don’t recall ever hearing my wife mentioning you.”

Cavender’s glare deepened. “In that bloody book of hers.”

Penelope cringed inwardly as she felt the twitch of Colin’s hand in hers. Her eyes darted around the room as an overwhelming sense of dread engulfed her. The ballroom was small and the guests were bored, and a public row was certainly enough to draw a crowd- one that was full of prying eyes and listening ears.

Colin’s face remained the picture of serenity even though Penelope could sense the angry heat rising from him. It was something she could feel in him that others always missed, a secret fire that he did so well in masking.

Looking at the other man, Colin let out a sigh, one that was forcibly tired, as though he were speaking down to an overly emotional child. “I can assure you that all the characters in my wife’s novel were fabricated. And if you saw yourself in one of the less attractive personages, then I’d venture to say that such is simply a reflection of your own self-image.”

The whispers around them grew, and Cavender sputtered for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the easy taunt. But his surprise only lasted a moment before he hardened once more.

A man with a petty vendetta did not often allow himself to be diverted.

His eyes flickered to Penelope before they returned to Colin and he sneered. “You realize that she’s made you out to be an ass, don’t you? You can act high and mighty, Bridgerton, but the wife you so proudly boast has fashioned you into the biggest fool in all of London.”

It was at this jab that Penelope frowned, feeling her own prickle of anger. And for the first time in the nasty exchange, she turned directly to their shared foe, a hard, determined look set on her face. “Excuse me, Mr. Cavender, but I must ask that you don’t speak to my husband that way.”

She could almost see his eyes flash in fury as they set themselves on her. But before he could give the biting retort that was no doubt resting on his tongue-

“And I’d suggest that you consult a dictionary to properly understand the concept of fiction.” Colin’s tone was relaxed, just a sprinkle of mocking mixed into it. But Penelope could feel the tension in him, the protective edge that mirrored her own.

Cavender’s gaze shifted back to Colin, his rage appearing a bit more controlled as they listened to the snickering that surrounded them. Slowly, his mouth thinned into a tight line, and he took a step closer to the couple. By instinct, Colin angled himself in front of Penelope as her grip on his hand tightened.

He was just a few feet away from them when he finally spoke, a voice so low that it was barely audible over the murmurs. “And I’d recommend that you consider taking yourself and that bitch of a wife,” his eyes darted to Penelope for a moment, “out of town.”

And it was this comment that wiped the smile completely off of Colin’s face, along with any attempt of levity.

It was as if a chill had passed over, one that was both icy and burning at the same time. He stiffened like a board, a wave of unmistakable anger coming over him. And when his words came, they were low and even, colder than anyone had ever thought possible from Colin Bridgerton.

“You would do well to avoid threatening my family, Cavender.”

Though there was a slight tinge of red on his face, Phillip Cavender did not retreat. Instead, he took another step forward. “And why is that, Bridgerton?”

Penelope could see the muscles in Colin’s jaw moving from where she was angled, could practically feel the heat radiating off of his body. She’d seen him angry before, furious even, but this was different. This was so much more.

She wasn’t frightened, not by Colin nor by the man standing across from them. Fright was not why she wanted this to stop.

She didn’t want her husband’s anger to be made into a form of entertainment at a party. For him to have to serve the role of gallant protector whenever she upset someone. So, she attempted to silently will him to calm down, running a featherlight thumb across the surface of his hand.

But Colin wanted to finish what they’d started and instead let go of her and took his own step forward, almost shielding her completely.

“I think we all know that I have more than enough relatives to run you out of town,” he said, eyes locked on Cavender.

There was a flash of worry that crossed his face, but it was quickly forced away by a snort. “Is that meant to scare me? The threat of a duke and a viscount?”

Colin didn’t falter. Instead, his head tilted as he considered the man, considered the shaking fingers and the smell of alcohol on his breath. He’d never been a violent man by nature, even having grown up with two older brothers. He preferred words when he fought, and they almost always gave him his victories. He wasn’t opposed to physical repercussions, but he knew that a private gathering was not the place or time.

He looked Cavender directly in the eyes, speaking in a low, clear voice. “I will ensure that you are ruined, that is a promise.”

And because he couldn’t help himself, “And if that is not enough, be rest assured that we will do worse. My only qualm in doing it myself is that my brother would be disappointed he wasn’t able to help.”

There was a silence in the room that followed as Cavender glowered at him. His eyes darkened in fury as his face reddened, trying to figure out how far Colin could really go.

But there was something in Colin’s threat that didn’t allow for any consideration that he might have been exaggerating. Perhaps it was the definitive and resolute tone in his voice, or the strength behind his gaze, or the tight set of his jaw.

Or perhaps it was because Colin Bridgerton wasn’t the type to quicken to anger. Wasn’t the type to have a temper or even hint at unpleasantry.

Whatever it was, it made Cavender finally break eye contact and step back. He turned away, taking another large swig of port.

Colin could hear the pounding in his ears as he looked at the pathetic man, anger still coursing through him. But then he felt a warm hand lace through his, and the red glare of the world began melting away. Penelope was whispering something, her voice calm and soothing. He squeezed her hand in understanding but kept his gaze on Cavender.

There was a familiar casualness when Colin spoke this time, but it was threaded with venom. “Do not forget what I’ve said.”

And with that, he turned to his wife and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“Good night,” Penelope nodded to the remainder of the crowd, who finally had the decency to look away.

A few minutes later, when they were finally in a carriage returning to their home, Penelope sighed. With her eyes glued to her skirts, she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Colin.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, taking in a deep inhale of breath.

He’d been scared after the reveal of her identity, terrified even. There were evenings where he’d lie awake in bed and imagine all of the awful things that could happen to the person who was his entire world. And though they never spoke of such worries aloud, he knew that she was just as aware as he was.

Italy had been like taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long. There, no one cared or knew, and the only threat they faced was the harsh sun.

And then Penelope was pregnant, and a new light was added to his life, one that shifted his fears elsewhere.

Then they became a family of three, and Colin was thrilled. He still worried, of course, but his joy outweighed everything else.

Old wounds had been reopened in the recent weeks, that was for certain. But it did not mean that he blamed Penelope for them.

So, Colin pulled her into his side and tucked her head under his chin. “You have nothing to apologize for. We both agreed that you did the right thing.”

For a few moments, she said nothing, just listened to the sound of his heartbeat and the wheels on cobblestones. And though he couldn’t see her, Colin could sense in the silence that she was crying. Wordlessly, he handed her a handkerchief.

Penelope dabbed at her eyes a few times before leaning back to look at him. “I didn’t want to force you into this position.”

He smiled and lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, feeling the familiar warmth of her skin. “I watch you every day with nothing but awe, Penelope. I love you, I’m proud of you. And I will gladly stand by you through anything.”

Her eyes moved slowly as they crossed his face, searching for any hesitance. There was none, not even a hint of resistance.

Instead, there was so much love that it overwhelmed her, struck her with the same shock that it had years before. It was a love that mirrored her own, a fierce desire to protect and support another with as much reverence as one did for themself. It was one that never faltered even in the most difficult of times.

Her eyes were glossy when her hand reached up to meet his, and the smile on her lips was weak but true. “I love you so much. And I can’t believe that I’ve become so lucky in my life to have you by my side.”

And with that, they settled into their drive home, sharing whispered conversations and watery chuckles.

They still had a long road ahead of them, of that they were sure. But they knew that they would cross it together.

83 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: anything with Jiang Yanli, I’d love to see more of her PoV

part 2 of whumptober 20 (JYL/LXC field medicine)

ao3 link

It wasn’t that Jiang Yanli never thought about other men.

After all, she was a female cultivator, and her opinion was therefore one of the ones that was rather eagerly solicited when it came to naming the most attractive young masters in the cultivation world; it was only that it had never seemed to matter. After all, she was engaged, and always had been, to her mother’s dearest friend’s only son, and that, it had seemed at the time, was that.

Oh, her father spoke warmly about marrying for love and not for obligation, but Jiang Yanli had never quite understood what he meant. Even if she didn’t love Jin Zixuan, she loved her mother enough to want to respect her wishes, and it was easy enough to dismiss what negative things she’d heard about him – arrogant, self-centered, impetuous, but of course he was still young, and weren’t most teenage boys like that? – and instead daydream about the life she would have in the future.

When she was young, it was mostly daydreams of having some faceless man (she couldn’t imagine little Jin Zixuan, who at three years younger was barely more than a baby) bring her gifts and tease her and kiss her, then say she was the prettiest person he’d ever seen. The way she’d always heard was supposed to be how lovers talked, the way people said that a marriage ought to be like - the way her parents’ marriage had never been.

When she was a bit older, her thoughts drifted away from retreading romantic stories and to the actual work of being married, of being the mistress of Lanling Jin. In the beginning, her duty would be to first and foremost produce an heir and a spare, to remain healthy throughout the process, and to support her husband as he slowly began to take on the duties that would eventually become his, but later on it would get more interesting. A sect leader could not be everywhere, and his wife would often be left in charge when he was not at home – she would have to know everything about the sect, same as him, enough to make decisions in his absence; she would have to answer correspondence, make decisions, negotiate with traders, collect duties, enforce the peace, and she’d also have to manage the sect’s social scene on top of it all.

She probably wouldn’t have much time to cook, Jiang Yanli thought wistfully, thinking about how Lanling women prided themselves on never having to lift a finger for themselves, and threw herself into her favorite hobby now, while she still could. If she was clever about it, she might be able to get good enough at it that her future husband would find some dish of hers that he liked, something that only she could make, and then her cooking would be something done at his request – a charming idiosyncrasy, an indulgence of sweethearts.

When she got older still, and learned about Sect Leader Jin’s philandering and the iron grip of control Madame Jin imposed on Lanling in order to keep her position in the face of all the backstabbing and politics, she thought to herself that that sounded exhausting. But by that point, all of her childhood daydreams had Jin Zixuan’s name on them – although admittedly not his face, for all that he had grown up into one of the most handsome young men of his generation, and certainly not his mannerisms – and it was far too late to raise a fuss now. So Jiang Yanli studied willpower in addition to trade routes, learned how to exploit social norms in addition to how to manage a dinner party, taught herself how to play people just as well as she played the guqin, absorbed the lessons of both murder and mathematics, and above all figured out how to stand up for herself and what she believed in no matter what overwhelming pressure she might face.

Even though Jiang Yanli was pretty sure that Madame Jin wouldn’t appreciate that last part in a daughter-in-law, especially not one reputed to be as easygoing as her father.

(“Let her be upset,” her own mother had snorted when Jiang Yanli had tentatively raised the issue. “Are you supposed to ruin your own future because she’s a bitter old mother-in-law that’d rather not give up control so early? I may have agreed to marry you to her son, A-Li, but she agreed to marry him to my daughter. If she wanted easy and pliable, she should have thought again.”

“But she’s your friend,” Jiang Yanli had said, frowning a little. “Don’t you want her to be happy?”

Her mother had looked tired. “Once, more than anything,” she’d said. “But the chance for that passed long ago.”)

So it wasn’t that she didn’t notice other men. It was just that there was no point in allowing herself to look, and she knew enough of her parents’ marriage, and of Madame Jin’s, to not want to look.

And then, suddenly, there was.

Her engagement was broken. One could say that it happened at her own beloved brothers’ hands, at her father’s blind dislike of arrangements even when it was one his own daughter had long ago accepted and had even learned to long for, but in truth Jin Zixuan was a proper young master, old enough to make decisions for himself, to exercise some control over his own life, and the first bit of control he’d taken into his own hands was to decide that he didn’t want her.

It was – not fine, no. She spent some time crying over it, and yet more time comforting Wei Wuxian who was distraught at having caused her pain, and the most time of all quietly wondering what the point of her existence was now that she was no longer useful as a marriage tool. She’d never been much of a cultivator, never been especially pretty, never been anything more than average – what was the point of her?

Maybe that was when she’d decided to pick up medicine.

Field medicine was womanly enough to satisfy critics, and yet it was something useful in a practical sense: she could save people’s lives, if she only learned enough, and studying she could do.

Sometimes, she even got the chance to save the lives of very attractive people, like when the First Jade of Lan lay crumpled in the cot before her as she patched him up. So this is the one they ranked first, she thought, examining him with her eyes even as she kept her hands busy, and she was forced to admit that the other female cultivators of her generation had good taste. He was devastatingly handsome.

Kind, too, she soon learned; gentle and courteous in his mannerisms. He smiled often, which she appreciated in a person (if one interpreted Jiang Cheng’s scowls as smiles, he smiled nearly as much!), and he seemed to genuinely admire her efforts at medicine, however rudimentary. Over dinner, which he insisted on sharing with her even after he was well on his road to recovery, the conversation between them flowed easily and well: they both had brothers they loved, which was a conversation topic of which neither of them would ever tire, and they both enjoyed art and music. He didn’t know the first thing about cooking, but enjoyed asking questions (especially after she’d made him a meal he particularly enjoyed, which was often), while she enjoyed the way he blushed when she teased him.

She didn’t think much of it, of course. If she couldn’t keep the husband that had been promised to her since before she could walk – if she was too dull, too plain, too weak, too average to be worthy of an untried young man like him – then she definitely had no hope of catching the most attractive and capable young master of their generation, a dashing war hero and sect leader in his own right.

And then, when they were both laughing over an especially hair-brained scheme they’d concocted to try to get Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to spend more time together – Jiang Yanli had noticed how much Wei Wuxian talked about Lan Wangji once he’d returned to the Lotus Pier, and Lan Xichen swore up and down that Lan Wangji had been no better – he turned to her and said, “If you were in Gusu, your brothers would be sure to come to visit you.”

“Me, in Gusu?” Jiang Yanli was startled into a laugh. “Why would I be in Gusu? As your guest?”

Lan Xichen coughed. “I had been hoping for something – a bit more permanent than that. If that would be something you would be open to.”

It actually took her a moment to understand, and then she had to raise her hands to cover her suddenly burning cheeks.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” he said hastily. “Just something to think about, if you’re interested…and of course, if your heart is elsewhere –”

“It isn’t,” she blurted out, and had to turn away.

“I’d hoped that was the case,” he said quietly, his voice warm. “I’ll take my leave, Mistress Jiang.”

Jiang Yanli had grown up thinking of herself as the future mistress of Lanling Jin, with its riches and its beauty and its poisonous heart, and then she’d assumed she’d be nothing at all, an old maid that helped Jiang Cheng manage his sect until he finally found a wife to suit him.

She’d never thought about being the mistress of Gusu Lan.

Gusu Lan, which was not as wealthy as Lanling Jin but just as complex – with its own trade routes and subordinate sects and business to manage – with its beautiful and serene landscape, its culture that emphasized harmony and unity rather than backstabbing – with no overbearing mother-in-law that would have barely been tolerable even when her own mother would have been there to hold her back, but would have been impossible without such protection –

She hadn’t dreamt of Lan Xichen as a child, or even as a teenager, but when she thought about all those dreams with a faceless man that she’d named Jin Zixuan regardless of any similarity to the real thing…

Lan Xichen fit in much better to the idea in her head than the real Jin Zixuan ever had.

“I won’t live separately,” she told him when he came over the next day, before he could even say a word; it had been just about the only problem she could see with his proposal. “In another house, certainly, but not an entirely different dwelling, and if I have any children, I would want them to live with me regardless of their gender.”

“I wouldn’t dream of having you so far away,” he said, and he was smiling again, broad and bright and – somehow, impossibly – hers. “Might I kiss you?”

“You may,” she said, and he did.

“Mistress Jiang,” Lan Xichen said a moment later, “you’re the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met.”

Remarkable, Jiang Yanli thought to herself, was better than pretty any day.

#mdzs #jiang yanli #lan xichen #field medicine #no. 20 #my fic #my fics #macgyvertape

353 notes · View notes

samdotdocx · 4 years ago

Text

A very long-winded essay about why I love Night in the Woods and The Ramayana makes me Big Mad ft. Lets Talk About Mental Illness™

So I was in this class called 'The Ecology of Language". Excellent class, 10/10 would recommend - and especially relevant in the Indian context in particular, but that's a topic for another day.

One of the things we talked about was the concept of 'relatibality' in media, which, I'm sure we can all agree is a large component of contemporary character or story-line development. Considering the context of modern readers, what that sometimes ends up looking like (in our society that is built on constantly being told we are lacking, and the subsequent need to satisfy manufactured desires), is some wonderfully nuanced characters in stories stories that are three-dimensional, well rounded, and well developed and written. It's pretty great. And sometimes, what that means is that we have excellent characters that don't conform to the standard 'protagonist' stereotype. They might not even be 'good' (this is NOT a villain-apologist post). In fact, they might be complete idiots. They might be the people in stories who make all the wrong choices.

One such relatable character is Mae, and it's because she's an unmitigated train-wreck.

Anyone who knows the game probably knows what I'm talking about when I say the illustration style and character designs are gorgeous. Anyone who's ever dissociated probably knows what I'm talking about when I say that illustration style and character design were excellently used to create the sort of subliminal, surreal state of Mae's mind. And as you play the game, you see how that state of mind plays with the other characters, and - spoiler - it isn't great.

This is the first of the relatable aspects of Mae’s character; there are people around her who love her and are worried about her, but at the same time, are angry and irritated about her behaviour. At what point does it become too much to ask of those around you to forgive all your continuous and repetitive mistakes? Even if you have a good reason for it, mental illness is not an excuse for being exploitative, even if it is unintentional. Mae is not trying to hurt the people around her, but she constantly needs emotional labour from them – it’s exhausting, and people’s patience is going to run out eventually, as is their right.

Another aspect of this behaviour is the lack of reciprocity, an example of this being when Bea’s mother died of cancer – and Mae didn’t even notice.

There are several instances of Mae’s thoughtless behaviour throughout the game; she gets completely wasted and makes a scene at the party, gets jealous of of Greg and Angus because they’re leaving the town without her, and ends up destroying the radiator Bea was supposed to fix, getting her in trouble.

The thing is though, that Mae is given the opportunity to fix her mistakes.

A large part of relatability is the want so see yourself in a character. Mae is relatable to me because there are several circumstances and events in our lives that match up, but more than that; the game is an interactive visualization of her healing process. Her nine steps, if you will. She is given a second chance – and that chance is hard won, particularly in the context of the game.

Mae talks about feeling like she’s falling behind, of knowing that she is, in a way, wasting an opportunity that was a privilege in the first place, especially considering her family’s financial situation – but at the same time, being literally unable to help herself. And the aspects of the gameplay that hint at the supernatural elements of the story possibly being a figment of Mae’s imagination – well. All us depressed losers know what it's like to not be able to trust your own judgement and point of view. She talks about why she dropped out of college, and her description of the dissociation, and the mental and emotional deadening that it causes is spot on and so well represented.

It underscores the point that the logical brain knows that mental illness is an illness like any other – but the emotional brain doesn’t care.

The game does a brilliant job of laying bare the realities of middle class life, and makes painfully clear the fact that, at that level, it doesn’t matter how difficult things are for you. The world isn’t going to wait for you to get back on your feet.

Mae’s mental state and the limitations it imposes on her cultivates a state of extreme frustration. Again, relatable. It’s an understated aspect of illness of any kind; the anger at yourself, and how that anger carries over into a lot of things in your day to day life. After a point, it becomes a habit. Mae does this too; she's belligerent, and instigative, and unrepentant of consequences, because anger blinds you.

It's not how things will always be. I have the privilege of hindsight, so I can say that with authority. But, this isn’t the kind of thing that ever fully leaves you, either. If you break a kneecap, it’s going to bother you for the rest of your life, and similarly, mental illness has a ‘no return, no refund’ policy. So you grow up, and you try to adapt those habits and impulses into a more positive context. Recycling, right? Maybe you set your sights on things that actually deserve your anger, and you go from there. You find people who, for their own reasons, perhaps or perhaps not related to your own, are angry.

And you don’t understand the people who are not.

A large part of the anger and frustration surrounding mental illness is due to the stigma surrounding it. It’s frustrating to be so powerless and dependent, but this is exacerbated by the attitude of ‘it can’t be that bad’, which makes it so difficult to reach out, to be able to say, ‘I need a break’ – and actually get one. This is an attitude that carries over to a lot of other issues as well, and the worst part is – we are surrounded by people who are okay with it, who believe in and support that mentality.

The myth of Sita, for example. She is a strong female figure in Indian mythology, who overcomes her circumstances to live a ‘good’ life, and for all intents and purposes, is a hell of a role model.

But that’s the thing; her life wasn’t good, was it? She was supposed be a goddess reincarnated, she should have been powerful, and respected, but instead she is reduced to ‘wife’ – and everyone today is fine with it.

I respect her immensely for the choices she made; marrying for love was her choice, going into exile with her husband was her choice. She was the paragon of virtue, of 'wifeliness', of kindness – she chose her husband over everyone and everything else, including herself, as was expected of her. But yet – she couldn't win his trust or respect. It should not even have needed to be won.

It’s commendable the way she takes it all in stride, but why did she? She was kidnapped and held captive for years, entirely against her will, and her husband's response to that is to force her to walk through fire to prove her ‘purity’ – and she does it. And she stays with him after, and I cannot understand the depths of her patience and forgiveness, because I would have been livid, and I want her to be so too. I’m furious for her, because Ram was not just her husband, he was also the king, and his later verdict to exile her, alone, while heavily pregnant, his readiness to condemn her based on speculation and public sentiment, was not just a verdict against her, it was against every woman in his kingdom who had ever been victimised.

Sita became a martyr to the modern feminist movement – if she could not be angry on her own behalf, we will do it for her. But at the same time, she is still relatable, because we are held to a slightly lesser degree of the same expectations. There are always going to be aspects of things that you relate to. ‘Big Mood’ culture is a strong indicator of the human ability to empathise, especially with characters that you like, or respect.

Sita’s world, I imagine, was run by the expectations her society and community had of her, and maybe she didn’t even have the liberty to be angry. Who is responsible for portraying her in passive acceptance of her fate? Is that representation reliable? Would the story have been different had it been written by a woman?

I can't remember a time when I was not angry, especially about things like this. I am always ready to fight, and I think the same goes for so many other people today, sometimes to our detriment. I cannot imagine a world where that was not at the very least an option. Not necessarily the best option, - but Sita’s world was very different to ours. Even with centuries between us, we’ve just gotten over angry and depressed women being labelled as ‘hysterical’ and subsequently being locked away. What is it like, to have to be calm and careful in response to being treated like this? This care in response may not be an overt requirement anymore – though the fact remains that society will not take you seriously if you become hysterical - but shouldn't you, at the very least, be able to rely on the support of other people in the same boat?

That is the main difference in these stories, and another main point of relatability to me; Mae, like myself, had a support system. Sita did not. Mae was selfish and demanding in so many ways, and required a lot of time and patience and healing before she was able to give back, but she got there eventually because she was able to put herself first. She fought for herself, and when she couldn’t, she had other people to fight for her. Night in the Woods represents the intersection of oppressed minorities and community with their portrayal of Mae, Greg, and Angus in particular, and the importance of community support – and, the difference between geographical community, and communities formed through camaraderie and actual unity. And so does the Ramayana - except, where was Sita’s community? Where were her sisters, or her parents, when she was abandoned in the woods, and later when she committed suicide? We are well aware, in the modern day, of the state of mind that causes people to kill themselves, and yet that is a part of the story that we never talk about. Where were her people then?

What would have happened if she had been more like Mae, and put herself first instead of bleeding herself dry for people who never respected her, and would never do the same for her?

People relate to personalities. They relate to choices, and circumstances, and habits, and it is neither a good nor a bad thing, to be relatable or not. Sita will be highly relatable to people who, like her, were governed by their circumstances, and were screwed over despite their best efforts. People who felt they couldn’t, or shouldn’t exercise their power and agency. Sita’s death was at odds with her strong personality, and so was her deference to her fate on many occasions, but there are a lot of people out there who will relate to the feeling of simply wanting things to be over. Mae on the other hand; she’s a steamroller, and she doesn’t stop. There’s a reason her character is a cat, and jokingly referred to as feral in the game. She is persistent, she is growing.

[1] In Defence of Kaikeyi and Draupadi: a Note – by Fritz Blackwellhttps://www.jstor.org/stable/23334398?read-now=1&seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents [2] https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2015/10/emergency-room-wait-times-sexism/410515/

#ramayana discourse #night in the woods #sita #tw suicice #tw mental illness #mae borowski #spam-by-sam

89 notes · View notes

thewildwaffle · 4 years ago

Text

Shiny Rocks

This story idea was suggested by a user on ao3

Everyone in the Planetary Acquisition Requests Office was stumped. It wasn’t completely unheard of to get requests for planetary resource rights from two or three separate groups at a time for the same planet, but the current situation was barring on ridiculous! Planet AL-471 had been discovered fairly recently. Reports of it were made known publicly across the galactic community, as was standard procedure for a newly discovered planetoid. Since then, hundreds - that’s right- hundreds of resource rights requests have flooded in. After the first dozen or so, Liat thought it was some sort of joke. But the requests just kept coming. In almost no time, they were up to their lateral fins in request paperwork. “We just got three more requests for AL-471,” Makeenitee, a small, multi-legged teyer complained in a high squeaky voice from across the office. A choir of low growls, clicks, and groans quickly followed. “That’s it, this is getting ridiculous!” Bryeabar stood up from her workspace. With her long legs, she crossed the office to Makeenitee in no time. “Where are these even coming from?” The small teyer activated the holographic settings on their datapad to let Bryeabar see. “It looks like a third of them, oh wait,” Makeenitee looked at the data, “no another one just came in. About a third of them are from the Solis 26 Sector.” Half the room glanced at each other with a knowing look. Solis 26. One system in that area had a life-supporting star. Nine planetoids orbited that star. The third one being the infamous Earth.

“So humans.” Liat sighed, stating what everyone had already figured out. “Okay. Who else wants access to the planet?” Makeenitee opened up the files of all the previous requests and scanned through the information. “Looks like an engineering and development guild from the chiatoru home-world, as well as a few requests from the Tret 4 System.” Liat nodded, “So the kloxans and a few bookas. That at least makes sense. Anyone else?” “There are a few more scattered around, but it looks like most of them are from human colony worlds or organizations.” Everyone in the office shared a look again. The question on everyone’s mind was ‘why?’ Why were so many humans wanting access? Why this planet? Without having to be asked by anyone, Liat opened up a new holographic screen on the report of the planet in such high demand. Planet AL-471, thus named because no official name had been bestowed by caretakers as of yet, was one of the newly discovered planets on the far end of charted space. It had been explored by a Galactic Confederation ship. Their exploration crew had managed a planet-side of a small team who were able to take samples from the surface and run seismograph tests. According to their findings, the planet’s composition was approximately 86% carbon allotropes, with the other 14% being made up of a long list of different metals and minerals and trace amounts of gases. As such, it was not a likely candidate for colonization, as it was incapable of sustaining life. It was certainly an odd planet, but the galaxy was full of strange things. “Does anyone know much about humans, or why so many want access to the planet?” Liat finally broke the silence. Heads all around the office started swiveling around to see if anyone would have answers. A wispy form near the middle of the room spoke up. “I think humans are supposed to really like shiny things, right? The planet’s mostly made out of diamond. Maybe they just think it’s pretty?” A murmur of voices and quiet chuckles hummed throughout the office. Liat shook his head and took a closer look at the list of resource rights requests. There were a few names and descriptions of groups and companies that sounded like they could be after the diamond for industrial reasons. They weren’t the majority, certainly, but there was quite a collection of them. There were a lot of other names on the list that he was a bit more skeptical of their reasoning. Was that what they were after? Pretty rocks? It couldn’t be something so simple like that, right? Liat sighed. “First things first, we need to get someone in here that understands humans if we’re ever going to get through all these requests.” It took a while, but after a search through the entire bureau headquarters, an expert on humans was found. Human Roy wasn’t overly thrilled to be pulled away from whatever projects he had been working on back in his department, but he stood patiently enough in front of the office. Liat explained the situation to him briefly and showed him an extensive list of requests. "Can you help us make sense of this? Any insights or knowledge about why so many humans would want access to the planet so badly? It would help us make fair decisions as we accept or reject the requests." Human Roy scanned over the information a few more times. Everyone watched silently, not wanting to miss a word the human could help them with. After what felt like partecs, Human Roy scrunched up his face in an amusing expression. “What did you say this planet was made of again? Diamond?” “Among other things, yes.” “Then that’s why,” Human Roy straightened his posture and crossed his arms over his chest. “If that’s all you need, I have a deadline I need to make.” Liat and the others in the office looked at each other and Human Roy with perplexed expressions. “Wait,” Liat stopped Roy from leaving, “that’s it? That can’t be the only thing? Look at this list! There’s got to be something we’re not understanding here!” Human Roy huffed and turned back to the list. “Look,” he pointed at a few names on the list. “There are a few legitimate requests here. Not that I know all the ins and outs of your guy’s job, but I’d figure some of these are actually wanting the diamonds to use for construction or medical or engineering or whatever uses diamonds can be put to these days. The rest of these,” he ran his hand down to gesture at the remaining names, “Likely want access because it’s a freaking planet made out of diamond. They don’t want resources, they want status.” Liat blinked his stalk eyes slowly. “Status?” “Status. Diamonds have been a status symbol of wealth on Earth for, well, I don’t know, a long time. Personally, I never really saw the appeal. When it comes to fancy rocks, I think garnets and opals are pretty. I mean, sure, diamonds have some cool qualities and properties and whatnot. That’s why there are a few legitimate requests on this list,” Roy gestured to the names he had mentioned before, “But honestly, I’d really scrutinize the rest of these. I’d be interested in what the legit requesters would do with that much diamond.” “So, you’re saying that most of these just want…” Liat paused, trying to process all this. “They don’t even need the diamond?” “Mmmm, no. I’d say a lot of them just want to be able to say that they control giant diamonds on some far-flung planet somewhere.” Makeenitee spoke up from her seat, “But I don’t understand. If diamonds are so important to humans, wouldn’t this planet throw off supply and demand systems on Earth and human colony worlds?” “I have no idea. I’m in the communications bureau, not intergalactic economics.” Human Roy shifted his weight and sighed. “All I know is that back on Earth, diamonds have been marketed for - I don’t know, ever- that they are rare and super precious and everyone needs one and blah blah blah. They’re not rare though. Earth and pretty much all of the colony worlds have plenty of diamonds. Granted, none of them are the size of two continents, but hey,” Roy threw his hands up in what looked like a dismissive gesture, “humans like thinking the pretty rocks they’ve been told are super rare are really important.” He looked around at the office of blank alien faces. “Well, if that’s everything, I really do have stuff I need to finish. Good luck with your list.” And before anyone could ask another question, he was gone. Liat looked around at his coworkers then back to the impossibly long list that was still activated in the front of the room. He wished Roy had been able to give them more information that would help them weed through the “legit” requests and those that he said just wanted the diamonds for status. Still, the insight he gave was… interesting. Diamond was certainly a fairly common material across the galaxy, but it was very useful in many applications and often in demand. He hadn’t realized humans also coveted them so highly for purely aesthetic purposes. “Liat,” Makeenitee squeaked, “what do we do now?” Liat sighed and turned his attention back to the impossibly long list. It looked like it had grown a bit longer in all this. Each one of those organizations listed would need to be researched and be given a thorough background check. Then a series of shortlists would be composed and cross-referenced with each other according to resource requests and allocated resources available on the planet. “We’re going to do our jobs,” Liat finally broke the apprehensive silence. “Everyone, break up into teams of three and we’ll work our way down. Start from the top. The humans have made sure we’re going to be at this a while.”

#humans are weird #shiny rocks #diamond #humans are space orcs #space #aliens #planets #writeblr #original writing

317 notes · View notes

stellocchia · 4 years ago

Text

Here’s an analysis of the “Tommy’s Plan To Kill Dream” stream (part 1)

I noticed that my “overly long” analysis always tend to be about extremely depressing streams, so here’s me trying to change that and failing miserably because I can find angst literally everywhere!

As usual I’ll be talking about the characters only unless stated otherwise from here on out.

The whole thing is under the cut because, as the name of this “series” suggest, I’m phisycally incapable of keeping things short

Before we proceed with the analysis we need a quick overview of Tommy’s relationship with the people he interacts with this stream so that we can all start with the same mindset:

Tommy & Tubbo: They have obviously been very close friends since the beginning but recently Tommy has developed a sort of dependence on Tubbo which really isn’t healthy. This of course is a direct result of his second exile and his mindset moving forward after that. While with Dream and then Techno Tommy was extremely isolated and made to depend entirely on the one person providing for him. He continued this even after Doomsday, this time developing an extreme dependence on Tubbo that culminated with the line “What am I without you?” (basing your entire identity around someone else is not healthy, who’d have thought?). With the developing of the hotel post-finale he expands his system of support to include Sam and Sam Nook, but this is of course ruined with the prison arc. Tommy doesn’t trust Sam any longer and, while he still cares deeply about Sam Nook, he’s not someone that can give him emotional support. So he went back to rely soley on Tubbo (though it’s obvious throughout the stream that he’s tentatively doing so with Ranboo as well)

Tommy & Ranboo: The two of them used to be sort of close before Doomsday, Ranboo still very much admiring Tommy and considering him a friend. Thet said Ranboo is not in the very small circle of people who Tommy trusts and finding him married to his best friend and moving in together with a child didn’t help his perception of him. He feels replaced by Ranboo and sort of feels like he “stole” the only system of support he had that he could count on. Though there is a beginning of change throughout the stream.

Tommy & Ghostbur: Their relationship is really interesting. Tommy is pretty obviously one of Ghostbur’s unfinished businesses (possibly the only one now that L’Manburg is gone) and most definitely his priority. He was the only one who offered to go with Tommy during exile and he tried to be there for him constantly. Even his return this time was Tommy-motivated as we know from what he said in Ranboo’s stream. Meanwhile Tommy’s feelings on him are very complicated. He swings between recognizing that Alivebur and Ghostbur are different entities to conflating them together any time he has a strong reminder of Alivebur (at the beginning of exile and after spending time with Void!Wilbur for example). He also has only very recently come to the full realisation that Wilbur was awful to him and that their relationship was definitely not healthy (something we can infer from him finally taking a stance on not wanting him back and him admitting that Wilbur is good at manipulating him).

Now that that’s done, let’s get into the analysis!

“Oh I forgot I died, didn’t I?” So, Tommy is in a very peculiar situation where he has to somehow process his own death and, at the moment, he’s still in a state of denial about it. He knows he died but he acts like he didn’t in the sense that he hates how it affects his life. He doesn’t want people to treat him any different (even though he IS different), he doesn’t want to acknowledge the changesto the world nor to his relationships, which is the reason why he dislikes the statues of himself so much (that and the fact that he simply never liked to have statues of him). They act as a constant phisycal reminder of what happened to him and, more importantly, how much things changed in his absence.

One other reason why change scares him so much it’s because of how often he’s alienated from the world around him. He spent more time in exile/prison then in his own home since L’Manburg got it’s independence. He is constantly forced to live in an isolated bubble while the world around him moves forward and then, when he gets thrown back in he is never really given much time to adapt and catch up before he is thrown once more into the role of the hero/villain that he despises (after the 16th for example he was painted as a liability at his first mistake and put on trial etc despite how much he did for the country. Again after Doomsday he had the Dream fight to think about and, after that, Sam Nook asked him again to be the hero against the Egg and he, once again, was villanized by the Team Rocket. Now again he finds himself in the position where he has to take action against Dream once more).

So the stream really starts with Tommy deciding to contact Tubbo to get some help in his plan to kill Dream. He heads to Snowchester to do so (stopping before that to build Sam Nook a little wooden platform to keep him out of the rain).

On the way to Snowchester he gets trapped in the tunnel and almost drowns, making him break the glass of the tunnel. This is triggering for him for a couple of reasons (aside from drowning generally being not pog): exile reminder of his waking up drowning every day and taking damage in general seems to be a reminder of his death (he also seems to be hypersensitive in general in regard to phisycal sensations)

The whole mansion scene is a further indicator of this new dynamic between Tubbo, Ranboo and Tommy. Tubbo and Ranboo grew extremely close as we know (got married for tax benefits, adopted a child together and, apparently, canonically fell in love after) and they are planning to move in together with their son in the mansion. This, once again, all happened while Tommy was locked in prison. The feelings of alienation for him in the situation are prevalent together with his jealousy at Ranboo as he perceives him as his replacement.

“You married someone without me- without my permission?” “Okay, can I have your permission?” “Does he make you happy?” “Yes” “then ye- okay” Just... I’m a softie and I think that it’s very sweet that his only requirement to give his blessing is Ranboo making Tubbo happy. We stan a unconditionally supportive friend!

“Ranboo listen, let me open up to you pal! I- I’ve been through a pretty rough time recently and- (”Yeah I can tell”) and I know that we were kind of close before I went into prison, but then you ki- Tubbo would you mind looking at that flower a bit more? You kinda stole my best friend, and that’s kinda- you know now I feel kind of very lonely- actually feel very lonely” “I didn’t steal...” “And my other friend who then turned out to be my enemy is actually dead. So I’m kinda feeling a little bit left out here, and considering I was locked in a prison for 4 weeks...” “Yeah, no, I mean... I didn’t- I didn’t steal...” “No no no no, you did, you did, didn’t you? You did!” That was a big piece of dialogue there to transcribe! Regardless Tommy doing my job for me here by literally spelling out for us how he feels about Ranboo. One thing to be noted though is that Ranboo remains calm and keeps an understanding attitude in all his interactions with Tommy. He constantly tries to be reasonable (trying to explain that he didn’t “steal” Tubbo as, you know, he has his own free will and can have more then one friend) and generally just doesn’t get mad. Keeping a non-confrontational attitude is probably the best thing he could have done here.

So after that exchange Tommy opens up to them a bit about Dream, explaining what he’s planning.

“The revive book is too much and he (Dream) is too powerful and he’s only gonna use it for evil now! He is an evil man and he used it- he used ME to prove a point and to experiment on me” “Oh my God, like a lab rat!” “Like a- like a- worse then a lab rat! A lab- a lab sock!” “A lab sock?! No!” “Oh God!” “Oh my God” This is the first time in the conversation where Tommy’s gone more in depth about his traumatic experience (though he did mention before that “Dream asked him about it” in reference to his revival). It’s honestly a really big positive that he’s opening up to someone, even if it is other two teenagers who can’t do much but be sympathetic to him.

“I think it’s good. You don’t actually know this but I’ve been- I’ve been collecting some data, but, honestly... I’m not sure is a too good of an idea” “You said it was good” “No no no, I didn’t mean it was good in the sense of we should-” “Ranboo’s changed you, Ranboo’s changed you! He’s manipulating you! He’s manipulative and controlling” So 2 things to unpack here:

1) Tubbo hesitance comes from both him being on his last life and how things went during the season 2 finale. He isn’t too optimistic about their chances of killing Dream (even with Dream being completely unarmed in the prison) and he’s also less passively suicidal then he was during the finale, probably because he managed to build a life for himself now. He has a home, a family and Snowchester, he doesn’t wanna loose those.

2) Because of very obvious reasons (Wilbur being abusive, Dream being abusive, Techno isolating and manipulating him and then siding with his abuser and Sam betraying his trust) Tommy views all relationships aside from his with Tubbo in a negative lense. Basically he has HUGE trust issues and he’s so used to his relationships having usually some degree of manipulation (exept for Sam, who still entirely broke his trust. Also recently found out Jack had been lying and trying to kill him as well, which probably didn’t help the issue) that he just assumes that must be the case for Tubbo and Ranboo as well. Both of them of course are fast to correct him on this as that’s really not the case.

“So why don’t you want him to bring Wilbur back now? What suddenly changed?” “I spent months in the death... area- let’s call it ‘the death zone’, with Wilbur alright?” “The death zone?” “I spent months there. I spent months and months and months there and I was only there for a few days, Wilbur’s been there for real months. He is so different and he is fucking powerful and you know how he molds me like a piece of clay, Tubbo. (hushed) I don’t want him to come back” So here we have Tommy’s admission to Wilbur’s manipulation and how effective it is on him (most probably because of how close they used to be). We also have another hint about how dangerous Wilbur is now because of the knowledge he acquired.

“In the mean time we also... unless we don’t kill Dream... we gonna have to stop Technoblade, ‘cause Technoblade owes him a favour” “Stop Technoblade?” “Technoblade owes him a favour and we can’t let him redeem it” When Tommy mention’s Techno, Tubbo immediately becomes even MORE hesitant about this whole thing (probably a mix of his death-related trauma, Techno exploding his nation twice and his most recent inquisition venture in Snowchester).

“So why don’t we try to block Dream’s communication with Technoblade? ‘Cause then Technoblade would have no idea how to... redeem... the favour” “He can bring back the dead Tubbo, we need him DEAD! He’s too powerful for this server’s good and he’s a bad man and he won’t use his powers for good. And it’s not even-” “Mmmmh” “What do you mean ‘Mmmh’ Man?!” “I don’t know this really- this didn’t go too well for us last time we got all hyped up and tried to do this” Tubbo once again is mostly apprehensive because of how things went last time they were up against Dream. He also tried proposing an alternative solution to fighting that Tommy shoots down because he doesn’t think anyone should have the power that Dream has. Also, may I add that Ranboo is actually on Tommy’s side on this whole thing? Possibly because he knows as well how dangerous Dream still is.

“Just because he’s locked up doesn’t mean his strenght is, allright?” This basically perfectly sums up the crux of the issue. Of course thanks to Quackity’s lore we know that Dream’s power now is mostly a facade, but they don’t know this. To them Dream is just as powerful now as he was before. To them the image of powerlessness that the prison gives him is the facade.

That said the conversation in the electric chair tower ends here and, as this is already so incredibly long, I’ll also end part one of the analysis here. This was also the most lore-heavy part as the rest is more light-hearted so it’ll probably be faster to cover.

#tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo #ghostbur #dream smp #tw abuse #tw manipulation #analysis #character analysis #I truly WOULD have mad it all one post #but this is already absurdly long as is...#and as I said this was the more lore-heavy part #so the split fits well #long post #but you knew that already #my post

104 notes · View notes

blackhakumen · 3 years ago

Text

Mini Fanfic #815: Last Straw (Super Smash Bros Ultimate X Persona 5)

2:12 p.m. at the Isle Defino's Restaurant.........

Pink Female Pianta: (Smiles Brightly at Mario, Peach, Ren, and Makoto After She Place Their Meals Down on the Table) I hope you all enjoy our meals for today!~ (Turns to Mario with a Dark Expression on her Eyes) Especially you, you no good criminal of a plumber....(Went Back to Smiling Brightly Again Before Walking Away) Goodbyeeee!~

Mario: (Chuckles Awkwardly) I see that.... we're....(Puts on a Deadpinned Look on his Face) Still on that phase, aren't we?

Peach: (Groans Which Pinching her Nose a Little)

Mario: (Turns to Peach While Placing his Hand on Top of Her Other One) Are you okay, Peach?

Peach: (Turns to Mario With a Reassuring Smile on her Face) I'll be fine, honey. ('Sigh') I'm just trying not let those Piantas get the better of me. I'd never realized it would be so challenging.....

Makoto: I'd say. I could never imagine getting over it that easily if I were in that position.....

Ren: ('Sigh') Tell me about it. (Turns to Mario) I'm surprised none of this is bothering you in the slightest.

Mario: (Smiles Sheepishly at Ren While Rubbing the Back of his Head Back and Forth) I wouldn't say it doesn't bother me completely. I just try and look at the brighter side of all of this, you know? I even tried not to think too hard on the messier part of the past.

Makoto: (Raised an Eyebrow) How "messier" are we talking about exactly?

Mario: Welllllllll.....For starters, back when Shadow Mario kidnapped the princess and took her to Pinna Park, there were a few eye witnesses that saw the whole incident going. It was practically a golden opportunity to prove the fact that there were two of me and all of this was misunderstanding to begin with. Yet.....They still think I was a criminal.

Makoto: (Couldn't Believe What She's Hearing) My God.... That's terrible.....

Peach: It was.....(Turns to Mario) I'm so sorry I wasn't much help to you during that time around, Mario. I was going scream out for help, but Shadow Mario, who was Bowser Jr at the time.

Makoto: (Nodded While Understanding What Ren is Telling Her) Okay.....

Ren: Yeah......

Peach: ...Taped my mouth shut at last second.

Makoto: But some of the citizens still saw you getting kidnapped during that time, right?

Peach: Yes, but....('Sigh') They were panicking for the most part.

Makoto: And there were no policemen involved?

Mario: (Shook his Head) Not a single one I'm afraid. Didn't make any better when tried telling them everything that happened during that time and even when Junior first tired to kidnap the princess, they kept telling me that I was slacking off and that I should get back to work on cleaning the Island.

Makoto: (Starts Facepalming Herself in Disbelief) I don't believe this......

Ren: I know, right? Their police system are million times worst than the one in our universe......

Mario: That..... wasn't worse of it......

Makoto/Peach: It wasn't?

Mario: Nope. (Turns to Peach) Do you remember those Star Sprites they wanted me to gather to restore the brightness of their island?

Peach: Yeah. You had to go through other worlds to obtain them, right?

Mario: .....For the most part.....There were a few citizens here that had them already. They only gave them to me after I do their chores for them.

Peach: ('Gasps')

Makoto: (Turns to Ren) Ren, is all of this is true?

Ren: Yep. And it's not even the worst of it.

Makoto: Oh sweet, merciful Johanna....What now?

Ren: (Points at a White House Standing on the End of the Dock) You see that house over there?

Makoto: (Turns to the House Ren is Showing Her) Yeah? What about it?

Ren: There these two raccoons who lives over there and they have a crap ton of Star Sprites inside. But the only way to get any of them is to trade them-

Mario: Blue Coins. ('Groans a Little') I remember how exhausting it was to get them all........(Chuckles Lightly) Good thing I got it all over it and made it back in one piece.

Peach: ............................

Mario: Uh.....Peach? D-Darling?

Peach: (Starts Taking a Deep Breath Before Speaking) Let me see if I get this right....You mean to tell that there are raccoons who are living in that house, trading Star Sprites for Blue Coins as a currency....The SAME Star Sprites that were SUPPOSED TO BE USED to restore the brightness of the entire Island.....AND YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT NO ONE, NOT EVEN THE AUTHORITIES, EVEN BOTHER TO QUESTION THEM AT ALL!?

Mario: .........Pretty much. Yeah.

Peach: .......... That's it. (Immediately Gets Up From her Table) I'mma sue 'em.

Mario: ('Sigh') Peach....

Peach: (Turns to Mario With a Form Frown on her Face) No, Mario! Ever since the day we arrived here, I have tried SO hard not let all of this get me. But after everything they've put you through, even AFTER you risk your life to save them, I cannot sit here and let this slide anymore! Enough is enough!!

Mario: But how are we going to find ourselves a lawyer here? We've never got one the last time we went to court.

Ren: (Already Has a Smirk on Face) No worry, you guys. Makoto and I know someone who can help plead your case no problem.

Makoto: Wait. We do? (Eyes Widened For a Brief Second Before Sighing at the Fact That She Figured Who Ren is Talking About) Ren, we're not asking my sister to come over here to court.

Ren: Ah c'mon, 'hon. She's the only person we know who has any experience being in a courtroom.

Makoto: But what if she already working this remaining week!? We can't just back to Shiyuba and ask her to come with us! She'll decline the offer quicker than you can say-

???: Why, hello my dear little sister.

Makoto yelps while quickly jumping into Ren's arms before turning around to see that it's none other than her older sister, Sae Niijima.

Makoto: Sis? W-What are you doing here!?

Sae: My boss gave me a few days off yesterday. So I decided to come here to spend the rest it with you. And before you ask, I used one of your Dimensional Rings to get here.

Makoto: Oh sis...(Hugs Sae Lovingly) You have no idea how happy this made me~

Sae: (Giggles Softly) Likewise. I'm really happy to see you again, Makoto. (Kiss the Top of Makoto's Head Before Turning to Ren) You too, Ren. I hope you're treating my little sister well as usual.

Ren: (Happily Nodded) Yep.

Peach: Ms. Niijima, I know you've just arrived here and everything, but could you please help us with our case in court?

Sae: (Simply Nodded) Of course I can, your highness. I may be prosecutor for most, but I have learned a thing or two about being lawyer in the paat. So you and Mario-san are in good hands.

Peach: (Gasps Happily Before Grabbing Both of Sae's Hands) Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!~ Is there anything we can do to return a favor!?

Sae: Only if you don't mind having me be a part of your family vacation....(Turns to Ren and Makoto with a Smirk on her Face) And that I get to share a room with Ren and Makoto in the process.

Ren/Makoto: (Eyes Widened in Complete Shock) WHAT!?

Mario: (Chuckles Lightly) You're here already, aren't you? Of course you can be a part of our family vacation! (Turns to Ren and Makoto) You two don't mind having Sae in your room for the time being, do you?

Ren/Makoto: ('Sighs in Utter Defeat') No.......

Makoto: (Turns to Ren) I knew this was a mistake.......

Sae: (Place her Arms Around Ren and Makoto's Shoulder) Oh don't be like that, you two. We should focus on something more important at hand: Winning this case!

One Court Session Later......

'Jail Cell Closing'

Sae: (Standing Behind the Cell Bars With Genuine Surprise Look on her Face) I was not expecting the courtroom to be that stubborn.......

Mario: (Sitting Next to Peach on One Side of the Cell) I can't believe they locked us up in a matter of minutes!!....And call me crazy, but I think this might be my second time coming back to this prison cell again.

Sae: (Turns to Mario) How can you tell this one is yours?

Mario: (Points at the Craved, Written Words at the Top of the Wall) It has my name up there.

Sae: (Looks Up and See the Name Mario on That Said Wall) Ah. What a...... Strange discovery....

Ren: (Sitting Next to Makoto on the Other Side of the Cell) Being in jail isn't too bad. (Crosses his Arms) Got locked up twice in row and I was still fine enough as it is.......(Suddenly Starts Shaking his Arms in a Bit of Fear)

Makoto: (Starts Worrying For her Boyfriend Before Hugging Him Lovingly and Reassuringly)

Peach: (Looking Down at the Floor With Regret on her Face) I'm sorry I put you all into this.... If I didn't thought of suing them in the first place, then none of this would've happened.

Mario: (Places his Hand on Peach's Shoulder) Your heart was in the right place through all of this, dear. It's okay. And besides.....(Starts Blushing While Smiling a Little) I thought it was really sweet of you to go out of your way to do this for me to begin. Even though you...really didn't have to.....

Peach: (Immediately Turns to Mario) But I wanted to do it for you, Mario! You've done so much for me since the day we first place. Whether it's saving me from getting kidnapped, giving me all the support and care I needed, helping me go through my common and personal problems, or everything else in between. All I ever wanted to do is to be there for you too. Because you mean so much more to me than just being my hero o-or my Knight in Shining Armor....(Tears Starts Falling Down From Her Eyes) You're the man I wanna love and be with for the rest of my life.....

Mario: (Heart Begins to Melt by Peach's Words) Oh Peach.......(Gives Peach a Loving Hug) You know just as well as I do that you've done so much for me than anyone thinks you do. Besides my own brother, I wouldn't even be half the man I am today if weren't for all the love, care, and support you've given me throughout the years. Heck, you being here with me at all as already made my day and many others before and after that, all the more special to me and I can't even begin to tell you how much you mean to me too. (Smiles Brightly) But all I know is that no matter what happens, I'll always love you from the bottom of my heart, Princess Peach.

Peach: (Heart Begins to Melt as Well) Mario.......('Sniff') (Immediately Hugs Mario Back Lovingly) I love you too!~ Never ever ever ever ever ever EVER forget that, okay!?~

Mario: (Chuckles Lightly) Of course, dear~

'Jail Cell Opens'

Blue Police Pianta: Alright, troublemakers. You're free to go now.

Daisy: (Pops Out From the Back of the Policeman on One Side) Heeeey, Cuz!~

Luigi: (Pops Out From the Other Side of the Policeman While Happily Waving at Mario) Hey, Bro!

Peach: (Eyes Widened at What is Happening Right Now Along With the Others) Daisy!? Luigi!?

Mario: You two bailed us out!?

Daisy: (Smiles Brightly While Resting her Arm Onto Luigi's Shoulder) Yep! We used the money from the safe whenever one of us get arrested.

Luigi: (Smiles Brightly as Well) We even brought the safe from the home with us the entire just in case. Are you okay?

Peach: (Smiles Reliefly and Brightly) Oh you two have no idea how-

Orange Police Pianta: Yeah, yeah. Tell 'em all about it when you get outside. Now, come on! Out of the cell! All of you!

Few Minutes Later Outside..........

Police Pianta: Now, I hope you five learned a valuable lesson about causing trouble to this town.

Daisy: But.... all they did was trying to sue you-

Orange Police Pianta: QUIET!

Blue Police Pianta: Now, as what I was saying, we'll be watching you, pals. We'll know right away if you start causing more trouble.

Luigi: Uhhh...

Mario: (Whispers to Luigi) They won't do anything, bro. Trust me on this one.

Luigi: (Shrugs) Okie Dokie. (Starts Walking Away Along With The Others)

Makoto: ('Sigh') Well.....That was a lot more eventful than I could ever imagine.

Sae: Agreed. I never thought I would start my vacation here in a prison cell....(Turns to Luigi and Daisy) Has anyone else in the Smash Family actually got arrested before all of this?

Luigi: (Smiles a Bit Sheepishly) Well, Dedede was arrested two years ago for raiding across the Area 51 by Naruto running.

Sae: ........ You're Kidding.....

Daisy: (Giggles Softly While Hugging Onto Luigi's Arm) Nope!~ It was all around the news when it happened. He even got his chewed out by Peach afterwards. It was priceless!~

Luigi: And effective.

Sae: ('Sigh') You know, I'm starting to think our arrest is more meaningless than before.........

Peach: (Sighs While Resting her Head Onto Mario's Shoulder) Well, I'm just glad all of this is over now.

Ren: Tell me about it. Don't know about you guys, but I can really go for a nice, relaxing back massage right now-

?????: RENNNNNN!!!!

And with that, Palutena and Bayonetta, along with all the members of the Phantom Thieves rushes over and hug tackle Ren into the ground one by one. All was right in the world yet again.

@keyenuta

@caleb13frede

@princekirijo

@ma-lemons

@albion-93

@italian-love-cake

@cyber-wildcat

@26shann

@shumakoweek

20 notes · View notes

humanwheatleyslefttoenail · 4 years ago

Text

Now I Am An Arsonist

Chapter 2: The Acrobat

Summary: GLaDOS learns a few things about love, hate, and the human condition.

Tags: Canon typical violence, ChellDOS, human!GLaDOS, found family

A/N: I know technically I published this a while back but I did some major edits to both the chapters I’ve already written and the story as a whole. As promised, I’m re-releasing what I already have with the edits/illustrations.

She’d awoken slowly, feeling the hard coils of a mattress underneath Her back and a stiff yellow jumpsuit enshrouding Her arms and legs. Long fall boots clung tightly to Her feet, uncomfortably squeezed into the rigid white plastic.

Gradually, She sat up on the neatly-made bed, a rough linen blanket still covering Her lower half. The chamber had been deliberately made to look like a hotel room, complete with a TV in the corner and a nightstand on the side. Something wasn’t right.

It was like living in a distant memory, a dream She’d had but not quite remembered.

A part of Her felt like this was normal, as if She’d woken up here every morning, but another urged Her to look for answers.

GLaDOS searched Her memory, not fully processing the world around Her, puzzled as to why Her thoughts had been slowed tenfold.

Looking down, She saw two pale human arms and two pale human hands. Feeling the top of Her head, She found a mess of dark brown hair which came down to Her shoulders.

No, this surely wasn’t right.

Only hours ago, only hours ago, She’d been in control of all of Aperture Science. She’d been invincible, the immortal, all-powerful GLaDOS and now…

Now, She was this.

What the hell is going on here?

There was seldom more awful than to be a human being, to live a short, painful life burdened equally by love and hate. Even on Her worst days, the most She could muster for human beings was a vague sense of pity.

Yet, here She was, more human than She had been in centuries.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Being Caroline, however brief, was not something She’d ever wished to return to. Emotions were completely incapacitating. There was something to be said for the victory of a test well done, of throwing Wheatley into space where the little moron belonged, of the relief when Chell woke up. But something like guilt? Something like fear? Real, genuine fear?

As a machine, She could destroy those feelings, suppress them until they were nothing at all. As a human, that task wasn’t so easy.

Sparks of happiness, moments of joy; none of them were worth the ordeal.

Even the anticipation of fear made GLaDOS’ chest pound, rapidly breathing in and out as She reflexively clung to the blanket. The last thing She needed was more complicated thoughts about Chell, more bittersweet memories of Cave, more useless sentiments to wring Her bitter heart dry.

In a very human moment of pure shock, GLaDOS screamed. It was an ugly cry of anger and surprise swirled together, resounding throughout the vault. The echoes echoed off the walls, and the once-powerful GLaDOS cowered with Her head in Her hands.

The potato was bad enough. The potato brought Her closer to Her own humanity than She’d ever wanted to acknowledge, but barely minutes in GLaDOS could tell that this would be infinitely worse. GLaDOS felt Herself shaking, barely even processing the fact that this hideous amalgamate of skin and bones was now Her body. Now She had hair, She had hands, She had fingers and She had lungs and She had a heartbeat.

She had a heartbeat. A thudding reminder of Her newfound vulnerability. A symbol of Her weakness.

GLaDOS did not particularly care to be weak.

Finally, She understood the meaning of organic in Organic Transplant Procedure. Could they have possibly made it any vaguer?

Whatever this was, whatever had happened, She had to figure it out. The potato battery, being fed to birds, and dying twice was apparently not enough to satisfy whatever gods lurked in Android Hell. She would spite them once again, return to Her body, and everything would be alright. It had been alright before, so why wouldn’t it be now? At least, this time, She didn’t have Chell and Wheatley working against Her. All She had was Herself and the facility.

GLaDOS took a deep breath, a sensation She had not felt for hundreds of years. The motion didn’t entirely calm Her nerves, but Her only option was to move forward. Staying here would do nothing to help. The faster She figured something out, the faster She could leave this awful body.

GLaDOS leaned one arm against the peeling wallpaper, trying to balance on Her boots. The heels on the shoes were suspended above the floor, supported by a spring. Shifting Her weight while wearing them, however, was an acquired skill. Gently lifting Her hand from the wall, arms out at Her side, She was stable.

Briefly.

Without warning, the boots gave way, and GLaDOS toppled onto the dusty carpet.

A dull pain filled Her legs, quickly fading as She clung to the wall and rose again slowly. If She wanted to go anywhere, She would have to try again.

She walked along the side of the wall and felt the way the heels bounced beneath Her, made specifically to take the impact of any fall. Cautiously, GLaDOS let go of the side of the room, miraculously still. She took a careful step forward, preparing for impact, only to see that She was steadier than expected. Still, each step was uneasy, tense and on the cusp of collapsing.

Walking around the perimeter of the bed, She peered at the little wooden nightstand. One of the drawers had already been pulled out, but the other remained tightly shut. Crouching down, GLaDOS wrenched the second drawer open, finding a small mirror clouded with age. Holding it close to Her face, She examined Her repulsive new features.

GLaDOS wondered if there was any particular reason why this body looked so similar to Caroline. Most likely, it was an odd coincidence, but She wouldn’t put it past Aperture to clone a body that looked exactly like her own. She appeared to be in Her late thirties, already sporting gray hairs and frown lines. Her eyes, weighed down by bags, were a dull metal gray.

Robots, unlike humans, were built specifically to look beautiful - gears moving in harmony, painted finish gleaming under the lights of the enrichment center. She was stunning in the way She alone could be, completely alien and yet striking to the eye.

Humans, on the other hand, were made only to survive. Nature didn’t particularly mind if its final product was an unsightly, hairless primate so long as it could handle the simple job of finding food. Some humans considered certain members of their own species more attractive than others, but GLaDOS found them all equally ugly. Humans, with all their variation, all looked the same when you’d seen enough of them.

GLaDOS’ real body was a physical manifestation of Her power; She didn’t care that it was pleasing to the eye so long as it conveyed a sense of authority. This new human body, with its small size, its blemishes and imperfections, conveyed the exact opposite. Other humans may have even described Her appearance with words like pretty, soft or even kindly.

The idea of being seen as anything but imposing was a nightmare.

For Her own sake, GLaDOS didn’t ruminate over Her first impressions any longer.

Part of the zipper on Her yellow jumpsuit was undone, revealing an implant attached to Her right collarbone. It appeared to be a small, bright yellow core, the source of Her being, woven into Her skin by a cluster of wires.

GLaDOS rezipped it, the yellow light still glowing brightly through the fabric.

Without a second thought, She placed the mirror back in the drawer and shut it closed, screening the room for an exit. In the front of the room was a wooden door with a rusty brass knob, waiting to be turned ajar. Without hesitation, She followed the path and twisted the handle, the door creaking open without any resistance.

As She entered the hall, GLaDOS was taken aback by the sheer number of chambers, suspended from above and hanging inches away from a more stable platform. Closing the door behind Her and jumping onto the catwalk, She couldn’t help but notice the sense of abandonment that filled the room. It had been centuries since the old Relaxation Center had been brought up to code, and previously there hadn’t been much reason to improve it.

Now GLaDOS wished She’d put in the effort.

The metal catwalk led directly to an old waiting room. Ladderback chairs sat around a central column in the middle, surrounded by coffee tables, a water dispenser and miscellaneous paintings. A flickering Aperture Science logo still shined in the dim gray room, gleaming a ghostly white. Near the back, a faded poster called for test subject applications, apparently endorsed by Cave Johnson himself.

Everywhere She looked, remnants of a dead man’s company made parodies of themselves, untouched for years.

Behind a front desk was a hallway filled with shadows, leading behind the room. With nowhere else to go, GLaDOS stepped into the dark, the light of Her core guiding Her through.

There wasn’t much to see, and for a while, the corridor ran along a single route.

GLaDOS had to come up with a plan.

Somewhere around here there had to be a control room, or at least a place where She could catch a lift back to the Enrichment Center. The thought crossed Her mind that She might have to pass through a testing track, one of Her own meticulously designed traps. It didn’t matter. She’d deal with it when She got to it.

The hallway was only becoming darker, and the little light on Her shoulder wasn’t nearly bright enough. As far as She could tell, there were no switches along the way. Any lighting was likely controlled by a power station a mile from here.

Something metallic banged against Her foot, and upon examination, GLaDOS discovered it was an empty can of beans. In front of Her, at least three more were lined up in a row. She sighed.

Of course Doug had been here. That man was as ingenious as he was stealthy, and had found his way through every nook and cranny at Aperture. Not even Chell had been able to access some of the places he had.

GLaDOS took it as a good sign. Wherever the path led, it meant someone had been able to survive it.

Surviving had never exactly been a consideration before. Even when Chell killed Her the first time, She had a feeling there was some kind of safeguard. Humans didn’t have a black box; when they were gone, they were gone. Nothing could bring back a dead human.

As a potato, GLaDOS had been forced to confront the idea that if Wheatley blew up the facility, that would really be the end. There had been a part of Her almost content that if it was, Chell would be by Her side. Whether it was a vengeful wish, or a side effect of companionship was still unknown.

Back then, though, She hadn’t really been in control. She’d relied on simple hope that Chell could stop Wheatley before it all went down, not contributing much besides the occasional bit of advice. Now GLaDOS was responsible for Her own fate, fully mobile and fully alone.

Maybe that was even scarier than standing still.

After all, She could rely on Chell. Relying on this new human body was another story altogether.

The question now was whether any light could be found in this hallway. GLaDOS uncomfortably dropped to her knees, feeling for anything besides the three cans. She grasped at something plastic with a switch on the side. A flashlight.

Turning it on, the hallway became completely visible. Immediately, GLaDOS was surprised by the sheer number of paintings that covered the white walls.

Portraits of Chell were splattered from floor to ceiling. Everywhere GLaDOS looked, a woman in an orange jumpsuit stared back at Her, shooting portals and knocking over turrets. Swirls of paint danced from one scene to another, blending each picture into the next. Words were haphazardly scrawled across, some of them poetic and others screaming pure nonsense. Whatever meaning they’d had was lost with Doug.

A common theme was the companion cube, and one particularly disturbing image replaced their iconic hearts with bleeding human eyes. There was a stark contrast between the idyllic, peaceful depictions of Chell sleeping and the scribbles of scientists running for their lives. GLaDOS could barely make out some of the more manic drawings, but those turned out to be the most horrifying. Tightly clustered loops signified a cloud of neurotoxin. Blotches of red were human remains.

GLaDOS stood back up, meandering further down the hall. The paintings only devolved from here, intricate detail morphing into vague warnings.

Don’t trust Her lies.

The path went on for about another fifteen minutes, twisting and turning at sharp angles. Metal doors led to cluttered offices, all of them sealed and locked. In some of them, the computers were still on, endlessly flickering in the darkness.

When GLaDOS finally reached the end of the corridor, She was greeted with the sudden activation of a bright white light. Reflexively, She shielded Her eyes as the voice of the announcer blared.

“Welcome, Aperture Science Testing Associate! You’re here because you’ve voluntarily, or involuntarily, chosen to sign over all your legal rights to Aperture Science and further humanity’s progress!”

Of course. Being turned into a fleshy mess of tissues wasn’t enough. She’d have to go through the testing track, too.

She bit her lip in silent rage, no longer blinded by the light, gazing upon an airtight room with little more than a circular door. All around Her was white, covered in portal surfaces. Beneath Her, GLaDOS could feel the electronics of the panels whir, making the whole room seem alive. It could move at any moment.

“Before we begin, the Enrichment Center would like to remind you that you may suffer terrible injuries caused by our testing devices designed to create terrible injuries. If you have suffered a terrible injury, please review our community-shared legal manual, which states that Aperture Science takes no responsibility.”

GLaDOS knew that redundant message. It was backup, for when She wasn’t there to narrate. Testing tracks had levels of difficulty, and before Her takeover, it was fairly common for subjects to be screened and assigned one based on what they could handle. This message only played for the most difficult, and consequently, the deadliest. Not even GLaDOS was entirely sure what was in here; She hadn’t used it for fear of subjects dying before any real data could be collected.

“As part of [HIGH DIFFICULTY] testing protocol, Aperture Science has temporarily issued you your very own Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device.”

Without warning, a panel on the ceiling lifted, a robotic claw descending and dropping the device directly in front of GLaDOS. The claw lifted, and the panel closed again.

“The device has been successfully deployed. To ensure the validity of our tests, please verify that your device is completely operational.”

GLaDOS was familiar with the portal gun from Her databases, and She knew exactly how to work it. Despite this, She’d never actually handled one Herself, unless being impaled on the end of one counted. The device was heavy in Her hands, cold and sleek against Her fingers. The center, black plastic encasing a glowing yellow coil, was warm to the touch.

Pointing at one of the white panels, She cocked the trigger, and a golden portal blossomed in front of Her. Running Her fingers across the surface, it felt like waving a hand through a ray of sunlight. GLaDOS turned around, shooting the next portal at the opposite wall. The portal which followed was a lighter yellow, less vivid than the first.

“Good. A signal from the device has proven activation. Please enter the elevator.”

The metal door opened, and just beyond the emancipation grill, an elevator stood wait. It was the only path left to take.

---

Putting a cube on a button should’ve been a simple task for a supercomputer. Even for a human, the menial work was a cognitive breeze. The large button in particular required minimal force to operate, and the weighted storage cubes were lighter than they appeared. In any scenario, placing an object on another was easily mastered with only the most basic of motor skills. It could have qualified as the least difficult task known to mankind. All GLaDOS had to do was put one cube on one button.

That was all there was. One cube, one button, and several killing machines stuffed with thousands of bullets. It was for this reason that GLaDOS could not perform this extraordinarily simple job. The turrets blocking the way would surely be a hurdle.

Already, GLaDOS could feel the beginnings of human fear creeping into Her mind. She was out of the turrets’ line of sight, and yet the caution of Her new form compelled Her to stay hidden in the corner regardless. Nervously clutching the trigger of Her portal gun, She considered the dangers lurking in future tests. This one was only the first, and it had already deployed one of the worst weapons Aperture had to offer.

Logically, GLaDOS knew She could step out. She could put one portal behind Her, another at the opposite wall, and avoid the turrets altogether. Behind them would certainly be the cube and the button. Still, emotion was quite a world apart from logic. As a computer, She could be revived over and over again. Humans could not be fixed, and GLaDOS understood that in the very unlikely possibility She died here, She was never coming back.

GLaDOS didn’t want to admit that She was afraid, not even to Herself. She was sure Chell could tell back when Wheatley was in control; She’d let Her voice slip more than once. Now, with nobody around, She only had Herself to prove it to.

Removing Her cores all that time ago had also been the removal of Her regulators; She felt everything once they were detached, things She would have to relearn how to suppress. All She remembered before the world went dark, before Chell killed her, what She’d relived, was fear. Panic. Terror. There were a million words for it, none encapsulating just how soul-wrenching the phenomenon was.

Even then, that’s all it was for Her. Just an emotion. For human beings, fear was a sixth sense. It could be felt in a spiraling heartbeat, in beads of sweat, in shallow breaths and temporary, last-ditch strength. Fear was a state of being, and for the particularly unfortunate, a way of life.

GLaDOS knew fear only when She had to, only when She could not shove it to the very bottom of Her files. Humans knew fear like they knew living.

What a miserable way to be.

It was all the more reason to complete these chambers faster.

When She reached the other side of the room, GLaDOS found exactly what She expected. The cube glowed a bright yellow when placed on the Aperture Science Super-Colliding Super Button, and the chamber lock opened.

As the elevator descended, GLaDOS realized that She had no idea how to solve these tests. She was smart, and the solution would certainly come to Her eventually, but the human mind could only store so much. GLaDOS used to have entire libraries of nothing but solutions to tests, but the upload procedure hadn’t deemed that useful or necessary. When trying to remember, there was nothing. For the first time, GLaDOS’ mind was blank.

The next test dashed all Her hopes for a few more tutorial puzzles.

No, GLaDOS reassured Herself. This is alright. I’m used to being challenged.

After Chell, She was sure any other problem would be easier to solve.

This particular test was supposed to introduce lasers. The first step was to burn the turrets with the beam, done with the help of portals and crouching behind a corner. The explosions were louder than She’d expected; GLaDOS had seldom heard them outside of watching from a camera. Her ears rung as She crept past the charred remains of the turrets, almost nothing left of the slender white robots. The burn marks brought a smile to Her face; She’d killed them. Even now, She had power over something.

The turrets were programmed to have some level of sentience, though their sense of self was not nearly as defined as that of a core’s or a human’s. It didn’t matter anyway; they wouldn’t be missed. For every one that was destroyed or made wrong, ten more were created in its place, and the missing turret was simply forgotten. Nobody really made an effort to remember in the first place.

Humans, too, were often unremembered. She used to be able to look at their files at any time, but why would She want to? She’d seen so many, none particularly worthy of note, and most of them were gone. Even so, in a part of Her that She wanted to deny, GLaDOS almost felt sorry for them. She too had been forgotten for years; nobody had even wanted to wake Her up, to check and see if She was alright. All the robots in the facility knew was that the voice controlling them was gone, and that She wasn’t coming back.

The rest of the puzzle was much more challenging than swinging around a laser, involving the use of a redirection cube and multiple steps to obtain it. Another round of turrets was waiting where GLaDOS couldn’t see, launching a bullet directly between Her ribs. Luckily for GLaDOS, the force of each bullet was minimal, and the single hit left only a painful bruise. These turrets were stuffed to the brim with ammunition, part of Cave Johnson’s idea to really give his customers their money’s worth. The unintended side effect was a reduction of firing power.

Trudging to the elevator, GLaDOS clutched Her side. She’d been knocked out of breath, and the sharp throb of the bruise had faded into a dull ache. It was almost worse that way, grating on Her nerves, flaring up when She took a breath.

Chell had taken a couple bullets before, some grazing the sides of Her shoulders and most leaving similar small wounds. GLaDOS had to give her credit for continuing to test, holding her head high even when she was bleeding. That didn’t even count sores in her lungs from the neurotoxin, or the damage from falling down the pit. The fact that Chell stayed alive, then went on to test for days, proved her exceptional stamina.

This one bruise to the rib was occupying nearly all of GLaDOS’ thoughts. She couldn’t fathom the kinds of things Chell felt. The only comparisons She had were the removal of Her head and dying, both of which didn’t last longer than a few minutes. Her pain as a computer had been simulated, but this was real and arguably worse. Chell had likely felt this same sensation a hundred times over, and a hundred times longer.

You did that to her, you know. A voice clawed from deep within Her mind.

You gave her all that pain.

Testing was bad enough, GLaDOS didn’t need the additional burden of guilt. She ignored the voice, though a heaviness still welled in Her chest. Her conscience, the one with Her own voice, was coming back. GLaDOS couldn’t say She missed it.

---

The following tests had proved themselves to be little more than a series of colorful injuries.

Despite Her caution, misfires on behalf of the turrets were inevitable. A stray bullet had bruised Her shin, while another flew past and grazed the side of Her left shoulder. Other little nicks were speckled across Her skin, the products of miscellaneous falls.

Hitting the sides of walls, and even landing with the boots, left GLaDOS’ arms and legs sore. Every step She took was a laborious trudge from panel to panel, and eventually Her fatigue took control.

GLaDOS scanned the level sign on Her right upon entering the test. 15. It hadn’t felt like 15 tests; it’d felt like hundreds had gone by. GLaDOS wasn’t even entirely sure how long it’d been. The adrenal vapor in the air muddled Her perception, and an hour and a minute seemed to be the same.

An educated guess was about four hours, accounting for the rests She’d taken in between. The hard physical activity had already worn down this middle-aged body. The woman was lean, more bony than muscular, and even slight exertion took all the effort She could give. The factor of age didn’t help.

GLaDOS sat down in front of the glowing screen, giving Herself a minute to catch Her breath.

There was a possibility that these tests would go on for thousands of chambers, enough to last years. Equally likely, at the end of the next there might be a scorching pit of flames. That one without any portal surfaces to escape from.

She leaned Her head on the wall, closing Her eyes and letting Her mind wander.

The chamber was frigid, and the jumpsuit did little to shield GLaDOS from the cold. Arms crossed and knees at Her chest, the heat still escaped Her.

The thought crossed Her mind that this was how Chell had felt. Was she always this cold, this tired, this desperate? GLaDOS made a mental note to Herself.

Make the chambers warmer.

The heat was only a surface-level fix. The claustrophobia induced by the walls, the artificial lights, and the expectation to give it your all or else was maddening.

Why does it matter to you? GLaDOS asked Herself. Sure, it was bad for Her, but why care about the other subjects? Once She got through this, GLaDOS would never have to feel it again.

She remembered the time She’d described Her worst imperfection to Atlas and P-Body. Too much sympathy for human suffering.

Still, Chell would’ve been happier (whatever excuse for happiness that would be) in warmer chambers. Now that She’d gotten attached to one human, She’d felt for them all. It was why She was so hesitant to form a connection in the first place. That would interfere with Her experiments.

Memories of sparing Chell’s lookalike and saving the life of the man reentered Her mind, and She was embarrassed at the thought of letting Her study careen so far off the rails. Looking back, how much perfectly good science had been ruined? Chell wasn’t even here, and yet She was still wrecking the facility.

Missing Chell, no maybe not missing so much as becoming used to her presence, was the source of all this mayhem. The thought of deleting the feeling completely…it was a motivating fantasy. Sentimentality had been, and would be, the death of Her.

Wisely, GLaDOS stopped Herself from wandering further.

Don’t think about it. Control yourself.

The act of caring verged on Caroline behavior.

If only to distract Herself, GLaDOS stood up tall and readied Herself for the fifteenth test. Walking deeper in, Her nose caught the scent of acid, stinging as the fumes filled Her lungs.

GLaDOS sighed.

She could already tell that this would be a long one.

---

Cheating was not as good of an idea as it originally seemed.

GLaDOS knew logically, No, you have to do the test, there’s no other way out. When subjects tried to escape, it never ended well for them. Despite past observation, the temptation remained as strong as ever. The walls beckoned Her, waiting to be climbed, an onlooking room in wait. These tests hadn’t been as thoroughly repaired as the others, and sunlight shone through holes in the ceiling. Wreckage from years of decay looked almost like a staircase, or perhaps more like a ladder. Everywhere around Her seemed like an easier path to freedom.

The main issue was stability; the rusty metal plates couldn’t support Her weight, and trying to climb left Her tumbling down onto the hard floors. No wall ever seemed to have enough traction, and a sprain on Her arm quickly taught GLaDOS that Her ingenious plans were too risky to continue. Even the use of momentum could not propel Her high enough to reach the windows of the room overhead.

Frustrated and defeated, She solved the test without further incident. Chamber 25 was waiting up ahead, and the sunlight from above shone with evening hues. To Her own disbelief, all of this testing had amounted to only a single day.

After the long, arduous completion of 25 had wracked both Her body and mind, GLaDOS found welcome relief. She almost couldn’t believe the fact that the chambers had ended so… safely. The door opened, and there were no death traps or pits of fire waiting for Her. It only led into a waiting room with a faded Thank You sign on the wall. GLaDOS smiled, satisfied with Her victory. Shortcomings aside, the fact that this measly human body had managed to endure so much was something She was proud of.

That had been Her work, Her survival, not just testing by proxy.

The waiting room She stood in was eerily similar to the last, furnished with the same kind of chair and plastered with similar advertisements. Unlike the last one, two exits waited in front of Her. One was for test subjects, boarded up with wood nailed to the door, completely inaccessible. The other was a flight of stairs leading upward, blocked off with a chained sign reading Employees Only.

GLaDOS lifted the chain over Her head and took the staircase, no other option available. Nervously, She hoped that anything but another testing track was up ahead, only to find exactly what She needed. Her luck had been improving; a control room was only a step away. A panel of countless switches was adhered to the pale blue walls, adjacent to a desk with pens, paper, and a noisy radio. The same jazzy tune played on loop until She switched it off, content with the silence.

It’s finally over.

She sat down at the office chair in front of the control panel, scanning it for the words lift or escape pod. Dials and switches cluttered the board, labeled with miniscule text that was near impossible to read. GLaDOS scorned Her human eyesight, searching desperately, but finding nothing. The buttons only controlled elements of the test chambers, which panels to open, which cubes to drop.

She reread it, knowing that surely She’d missed something. Again and again, She screened the switchboard, yielding nothing.

GLaDOS had to have overlooked a button, misread a label. Nothing was hidden behind the desk, and no other devices had been plugged into the socket on the wall. The realization that She could be trapped here, here of all places, sank low into Her chest. After everything, after all of the testing and the pain and the feelings, it had all amounted to this.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. That’s not possible!”

All the panic She’d suppressed was finally let loose, Her human mind no longer able to contain the fear She’d been anticipating.

I might die here. That’s it. I might never get back in my mainframe, and I might spend my last hours stuck in this human being.

I’m going to be alone.

Alone.

She lingered on that sentence, anxiously pacing around the desk, nervously clawing through Her hair.

I am going to be very, very alone.

GLaDOS had always wanted to spend Her entire, immortal life alone. No friends, no family to weigh Her down, to distract Her from purpose. Cave had put it best; Caroline was married to science, and that had carried over to GLaDOS.

Machines didn’t need companionship, but depriving a human being of social contact was like denying them water. Whatever human need for friendship still existed in this woman’s body was bubbling up, broken by the sheer loneliness of the tests.

She often wondered why subjects had such a difficult time euthanizing their faithful companion cube. Unless rare incidents of stabbing threats counted, the companion cube had not once spoken to them, never shown any kind of personality or attachment. They were sentient enough, like most Aperture products, but their only real difference from a storage cube was their little heart decal. A mere design change had been enough to exploit human compassion, and it was fascinating to behold.

A part of Her now understood why it was so easy to believe that an inanimate object could be a friend. GLaDOS’ human component ached for any sort of company, any kind of reassurance. Even an enemy would be nice. An enemy would be better, maybe even preferred.

Just someone to talk to, even if that conversation was just a tirade of insults on Her part.

GLaDOS gave up; nobody was here, and nobody was waiting for Her. The future looked lonely, and in desperation, She gave the control panel one last glance. A button that She’d seen before caught Her eye, one She hadn’t fully considered the first time.

Core Sentience Connector.

With nothing to lose, She pressed the button, and a whirring erupted from a panel downstairs. GLaDOS rushed back to the waiting room, portal gun in Her hands, and watched the walls open like magic. In its place was a metal contraption, holding the empty shell of a personality core with a flickering screen above it. The Aperture Logo flashed onto the newly implemented monitor, while the announcer blared from an invisible speaker.

“Hello, and thank you for activating the Aperture Science Personality Core Sentience Connector Protocol! If you have selected this feature, congratulations. A subject under your supervision has been experiencing difficulties testing due to prolonged exposure to severe social deprivation.”

GLaDOS wondered what other insane scenarios they’d thought of as the screen switched to a moving blueprint of a personality sphere.

“All Aperture Science Personality Constructs are made with the intended purpose of solving this problem, providing companionship to those in crisis. Personality Constructs with an active distress signal can be summoned with the connector protocol. A list of available constructs is provided on the screen.”

Walking closer to the device, GLaDOS saw only one serial number listed. Personality cores all had radio capability, and the signal of their very being could be transmitted in times of emergency. Once the signal was received, that could easily be implemented into any compatible device.

GLaDOS hesitated before selecting the number. She doubted that the little moron had the capacity to activate a distress signal, and if he did, it was highly unlikely that the signal could bounce all the way back to Earth. Still, the possibility that this core could be Wheatley was something She did not want to risk. Although psychologically destroying him would be a good use of Her time, being in a position of power would make Her revenge all the more satisfying.

The last thing She wanted was for him to see Her weak again, but the only other option was to remain trapped. At the very least, if they were stuck here forever, She could use the last of Her human strength to make Wheatley’s tiny, moronic life as miserable as possible. In the off chance he could open a panel, She’d use him to escape and leave him behind. Preferably, in the incinerator.

Survival was worth the temporary burden of dealing with Wheatley, especially if it meant another thousand years doing nothing but testing. GLaDOS tapped the number, an electric chime sounding from the machine as the connector activated. Within thirty seconds, the core’s eye opened, gleaming a bright blue.

---

“If you were, let’s say, a brain damaged woman who was betrayed by her only friend, what would it take for you to forgive the bloke who tried to murder you? It’s just theoretical, just, you know, coming up with hypotheticals to pass the time.”

“Space. Space is nice. Rocket ship. Rocket ship goes to space. Space goes to space. Space is in space.”

“Alright mate, thanks for the input. Very useful.”

Wheatley sighed, his optic focused on the same group of stars he’d watched for the past couple of hours, his mind wrapped up in the past.

Four months had been a good amount of time to relive his mistakes over and over, micro analyzing every transgression against Chell. His life was now a series of unpleasant memories, or pleasant ones turned painful by context, interrupted with by chatter of the space core and the light of the sun.

Fantasies, in which he apologized for his mistakes and Chell forgave him, were far too frequent. He’d say sorry, deliver a whole monologue four months in the making, and She’d pick him up and smile at him. They would be friends again, and Wheatley would never return to Aperture. GLaDOS would be gone, out of sight forever, and they could be happy. He could be happy.

Not that Wheatley particularly thought he deserved it. By most human standards of morality, trying to kill someone was considered an irredeemable offense. Empathizing with Chell’s fear, Chell’s heartbreak had been impossible with the mainframe distorting his thoughts. All of the sympathy he could not feel then was coming back now, transformed into guilt.

If you hadn’t acted like a monster, if you hadn’t been so awful, if you hadn’t been such a moron...

He knew that realistically, Chell would never pardon him. Even that was given the unlikely event they’d met again.

Wheatley wondered if he would ever get a second chance, ever get the opportunity to show that no, he wasn’t a moron and all that villainy had been just a fluke. He only needed a chance, just one.

Hell, if GLaDOS got an opportunity for redemption, why couldn’t he?

Wheatley closed his optic, feeling the cold of space against his metal casing.

One chance. That’s all I need.

For a moment, there was only the silence of the cosmos.

Without warning, his processors hummed with a fever pitch, and his thoughts raced until they melted into nonsense. A loud beeping resonated from inside, and through the chaos, Wheatley could discern a single error message.

Sentience Connector Protocol Initiated. Prepare for the brief suspension of your consciousness.

What in the bloody hell-

Wheatley screamed in surprise, his cry cut off halfway through.

The space core hardly noticed that his companion had been zapped away, content with watching the surface of the moon below. The stars shone bright as ever.

---

“Oh, oh my god, I’m alive! I…” Wheatley’s voice trailed off as he awakened to the dim walls of Aperture, facing a brown-haired, tired-looking woman. A yellow light glowed through Her jumpsuit, and a suspicious grin was spread across Her face. Wheatley had never seen this person before, but the moment She spoke, he knew exactly who She was.

“Well, there you are.”

She was back.

#glados #wheatley #chell #portal #portal 2 #niaaa #now i am an arsonist #fic #fanfiction #art #digital art #tw injury #canon typical violence

80 notes · View notes