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legend-as-old-as-time · 6 months ago

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One of the drafts (written in one go) I mentioned befre, where Turaga Matau is kidnapped. I haven't come around to rewriting the draft, and feel no interest to do so yet. At the same time it keeps haunting my brain.

So, I'll post it. Please enjoy. (Matau certainly doesn't.)

The shaking of the lorry had lulled Matau to sleep. Hurt from the fight and weakened by both the loss of his mask and the disruptor, he had given up fighting his exhaustion soon after the cabin started moving. His dreams blurred and shook and twisted with colors – from blue, to red, brown, white, black, and back to green. They danced in a pattern with no reason, but as they drew Matau in, he felt warm and comfortable.

The world around him jerked and he woke up, softly while, strangely, at once completely aware. The metal grate dug uncomfortably into his side, but he kept still in the ropes. Better to have his kidnappers believe he was still unconscious. Aside from avoiding another blow to the head, he might glean some information they would let slip. He couldn’t move much as he was, anyway.

The mercenaries must have slowed down and were travelling a smoother surface now, maybe a road, because the up-and-down-moving had softened. He couldn’t quite place how the vehicle moved, however, which irritated the test driver in him. The place behind his temple was still throbbing, so fewer disturbances were a plus point, at least.

I hope we haven’t traveled far yet. Matau shoved back the dread that rose in the back of his throat, clawing the relief to shreds. He breathed in slowly, holding it for several seconds, before he released it. They will come. My signal exploded over the whole damn valley, and I did a lot of damage. They know it’s urgent and will do everything to come for me.

Carefully, Matau rotated his head; even though the bag around his head blinded him, it also concealed his expressions. Besides, he had other senses that worked just as well or even better. He bit down a hiss as a lance of pain shot through his skull.

Okay, I need to do that a bit slower… My siblings will be so cheery-happy to hear-learn these guys hit my head when I was already down and without my mask. Especially the latter will blow up Vakama’s temper. I wonder if they found my mahiki.

Even slower than before, he lifted his head just by enough that nobody – hopefully – would notice. The mercenaries had probably detached some of their members to keep guard on him. He tried to hear over the lorry’s rattling if somebody was talking. Or even just breathing, so that he knew how many were there. Unfortunately, smoother the lorry rolled, the noise the wheels made rendered it impossible for him to differentiate between then and other sounds that were quieter.

Matau’s neck started aching soon later and he gave it up, for now at least. Returning to the most relaxed position he could manage, he huffed, the cloth repelling some of his breath back to his face. It seemed like he had to wait.

Well, not long, before a loud, bellowing cry came from a place that was definitely outside. It didn’t sound like a voice and was much too loud for glatorian or a skrall, so what was that?

Yes, I remember! They said something about a rider having calmed down some biosaurs… That explains why I haven’t heard an engine, because there’s none. Of course, drawn carriages are much more common and less suspicious than a mechanical construct that is driving.

A sharp thump jolted through the floor’s constant shuddering, right through his armor into his chest. In the air, it made metal rang somewhere to his right. He swallowed the gasp that wanted to jump out. Nervous, he listened closer again. Who was coming?

“We’re speeding up! Lookout said she saw some figures following us on the cliffs’ edge and that they’re closing onto us.”

That must be them! Well, I hope. Still, he clung to that hope, grinning under the bag so fiercely he felt his whole face move.

“I already wondered what’s up! So, how many? And where did they appear from?”

Matau recognized both of these voices. And just as the one glatorian said, the lorry’s trembles rose in strength. Inertia took hold, pressing him backwards as they accelerated.

“Five, maybe more. They’re using the foliage as cover, so she couldn’t see prop- GAH!”

The lorry lurched and another cry roared. The two mercenaries cursed. Matau he bit down his own yell. He slid backwards by increments, his armor scraping across the grates. It didn’t hurt, but the pressure and sensations were so uncomfortable he groaned through gritted teeth despite his struggles to play unconscious. Just wonderful. He would look like the Karzahni at the end of the day-

Okay, bad comparison. Very bad comparison. No need to let his imagination run that far, thank you very much! His ro were already worried enough.

“What are those stupid beasts doing now?!” A slapped against a bar of the cell.

“Berinos said there must be predators nearby. The biosaurs smell them and get nervous. This is the other reason we speed up, we don’t want some wild rock steeds or worse attacking us.”

“Sure, that is worse than the potential toa hunting us down.”

“The disruptor shuts down their elemental powers in a wider radius than they can attack us from. Most toa are average, not anywhere as dangerous as those Nuva. Who knows, we might get more than one toa today.” The last sentence carried an air of smugness that barbed in Matau’s ears.

“It’d make the boss happy with us, that’s true. I’ve heard that elemental lord wants to study several of these toa, to find out how their powers work.”

Oh no. No. NO.

Chills ran down his spine and he shivered. The danger and level of trouble he had slid into had occurred to him before. He had worked on uncertainty of why or what they kidnapped him, which was nerve-wrecking on its own, but he had been able to ignore these worries because they would get him nowhere. It created a distance between him and the actual situation.

But now, with specific details on the background of his kidnapping, that distance vanished and slammed him right into the place he had been in since they subdued him. It left him breathless.

And they wanted to try to target more than just him. They wanted more toa, and by circumstances, some were following them.

Selfish as it was, it was the idea they would catch his own ro terrified him to his core, squeezing his heart crystal.

“If it’s those Toa Metru after us, we also have the best hostage to use as leverage against them.”

He couldn’t see, but Matau knew they were looking at him.

As if I’ll make it easy for you. The growl reverberated through his mind.

He kept perfectly still and lax, every emotion and thought turned inwards with the bag obscuring his view to the outside. They worked rapidly, bashing against each other, running in circles. At their center, however, something else rose: razor-sharp and intent, savage and intelligent, possessive and caring, from somewhere deep within.

He glared into the direction of the voices. Anger had sparked heat that churned, turning round and round with the fear, striking against each other in friction, feeding each other with the sparks that flew.

Behind his back, out of their sight, his fingertips dug into his palms. The surface gave; Matau didn’t care.

Metal creaked, joints squeaked, and steps closed on him.

“I’ll keep an eye on him just in case anyway.”

The cabin shocked the same time as the loudest roar yet boomed on the outside. Matau flew to the side like a ragdoll, and the wall split his head open with a pickle as he smacked against it while his back went agonizingly numb. It was little pieces of metal had pierced his brain and were shaking about, scraping and cutting. He panted, and gasped as the cloth covered his mouth.

Chaos reigned – voices jumbled outside in panic, shots rang, the cabin shook like an earthquake had hit the land. Somebody was shouting orders to secure something and escape. The volume and the echo dumped another cascade of metal scrap into Matau’s brain.

“Get up.”

Somebody clutched at his forearm. Forgetting his pretense, he growled with a jerk of his shoulder to get away. The grasp tightened and he was heaved up to his feet. His whole insides turned with the world swaying around him.

It was instinct that directed his body to tense up and keep his balance still, but the mercenary gave him no chance to even try standing on his bound feet. With a forceful tug they pulled him out of the cell. He staggered blindly along, the manacles clicking together; the tumult continued outside. If not for the grip on his arm, he would have fallen, but he felt that hitting his head again would be the better option than following. He was certain that this one wanted to ‘secure’ him.

“Le’ me go.” Matau slurred, weakness still commanding his body. No matter how much he leant back, he held no chance without his mask to stop them.

“I won’t allow our efforts to be in vain. You’ll come with me or regret it.”

Matau really didn’t like the implications of the first sentence.

“I’ll regret coming with you as well.”

A hard yank nearly threw him to the ground. Stunned, he gasped when cold metal pressed against his throat.

“Don’t make me angry. I’ll only need you alive, not unhurt for the journey.” The mercenary had locked an arm around his chest, shoving from behind. He stumbled but they picked him up easily. The threat cut through the haze in Matau’s mind, making his heartlight thud painfully in his chest.

They wanted to escape with him under the chaos of the fight.

Leaning forward as much as he could, he craned his neck down against the blade. He choked when the mercenary pressed tighter, pressing onto his windpipe, but instinct overruled any discomfort.

Now.

The pressure vanished as he let the tension uncoil.

“What are you doing?! Stop struggling or-”

They cried out in shock as Matau smashed the back of his head into their face. He yelled on his own, stars bursting behind his eyes, as another crack opened in his skull. He fell for an eternity in a second, everything swaying and rocking around him. A hard surface struck his knees before he sprawled forward, awkwardly. Behind Matau, the mercenary thudded against the wall under a mutter of imprecations.

“You- you will pay for that!”

Ignoring the throb in his head, he twisted his upper body up while pulling his legs forward. Just a little more, just a little more, just a little more-

He was yanked around his shoulder onto his back. The impact jarred the pieces behind his temples to tumble around. When he twisted around, the mercenary punched him beneath his heart crystal. He jolted upwards with a gasp of all the air he had. They slammed him downwards with a snarl.

“I’ve got enough of your resistance, toa.” He barely could wheeze as they pressed onto his chest, the other hand around his throat, cutting off his breath in. His legs twitched under the knees that dug into his thighs. Tiny intakes rushed into his nose only to be blocked. His lungs screamed, craving air that they had to expel before. The ringing in Matau’s ears became louder with rising panic and a different kind of darkness began blotting out his sight.

Above him, the mercenary froze. Somehow Matau remained aware enough of his surrounding to notice the sudden tension, although the reason for it eluded him. If only he could breathe – his lungs startled rattling and scraping inside his chest.

When the sound of metal groaning violently rose on the edge from the ringing, slowly swallowing it, Matau wondered distantly what else would happen now. His mind lurched when air flowed down his throat into his lungs. Sucking it greedily in, they expanded explosively that his ribs ached. He rolled onto his side, heaving, unable to feel or think from the lightheadedness.

“What the hell is his thing?! Stay away, you beast!”

The cabin shook from the growl that echoed everywhere. Matau’s head arched towards the source. There was the strange urge to turn towards it.

Metal shrieked down the corridor. A stream of air flowed across his torso, followed by the whistle of wind. They swelled until they whipped about him in a glorious mélange of sound, pressure, and smell, chasing away the stale atmosphere. His element surrounded him; even if he was currently unable to command it, the very rush invigorated Matau and his heartlight.

“Another?!”

He winced as something heavy landed next to him, making the floor shake. It snarled, a guttural sound that traveled both air and metal. The first joint in - something deep inside Matau resonated with the sounds.

“It seems I have to take care of a red and a black pest first.” The mercenary barked. The words clicked in Matau’s mind. Red? Black?

Claws clicked. The heat of a body moved over him.

“Is- is that a weapon? Of course some of the Great Beings’ experiments have to attack us!” Swords scraped against each other.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll kill you, then I can finally haul off and deliver the toa to my boss.”

He sensed his protector crouch over him, shielding his body. Not one, not two, but four distinct roars filled the cabin. Hands and feet slapped across the floor from the far end.

“How many are there?! Blue and brown now, too? You’ve got to be kidding-”

Faster and faster, harder and harder. The mercenary screamed when a body rushed passed Matau and jumped. Metal crunched.

For a while he just lay there. Bodies brushed pass him; the floor shook from feet that thundered around; voice and growls and howls reached him as if he was underwater, watching a fight that was above the surface.

“Here. This will help you.”

When he saw what Vakama held up with his hands, Matau tilted his head forward.

Gently he pressed the mahiki against Matau’s face. The magnetic locks engaged, pulling the mask into position, and it was like a circuit that had been knocked off closed again.

He breathed in with the flow of energy washing through him. The feeling of sickness faded wave by wave.

#bionicle #bionicle fanfic #turaga metru #matau #long post

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cow-boy-caviar · 2 months ago

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STAGE DANCE by TORREY PETERS

I’ll admit, I didn’t like Detransition, Baby (Peters’ first novel from 2021) all that much, but it was well-written and the premise was unique and interesting. What I didn’t like was that I couldn’t side with any of the characters (more on this later). They were realistic in their flaws, but that also made it hard to root for them. Stag Dance isn’t as well-written as Detransition, Baby, and the pattern of unlikable main characters (intentionally or otherwise) continues.

Stag Dance is a collection of fiction that Peters wrote over the course of 10 years: three stories and one novella. I love a collection of short stories; this isn’t that. Three stories and one not-quite-novel as a pitch feels like the author had these stories kicking around and threw them together to have a second book come out, rather than a full collection of work. Each piece has a compelling premise and characters who, once again, are realistic in their flaws and quirks and interpersonal dynamics. And each piece was unique: a dystopian plague story, an angst-and-hormone driven campus story, a historical novella, and contemporary literary fiction.

I like what I think Peters was trying to construct and convey through this collection. There are a myriad of ways that people can do gender, and people have been doing gender in infinite different patterns in every era. Trans people have existed in every society and every culture, and will continue to exist into the future. Their existence is not a new phenomena, and trying to erase them from our histories only does a disservice to ourselves. Peter Boag’s Redressing America’s Frontier Past served as inspiration for the titular “Stag Dance” and both texts show that trans history is interwoven with all history of all eras, even eras whose popular conception is straight, white, cis, and het. (Peters talks about that inspiration in this interview, and yes, I read Boag’s book before reading Stag Dance. I’m nothing if not a completionist.)

I also agree with Peters’ sentiment that trans literature “[doesn’t] need to invent some othering form to explain a trans life. You can explain a trans life in a teen romance.” Any stories that exist about cis people can exist about trans people. I can appreciate that what she’s doing is telling trans stories where we don’t have to root for them in order to justify their existence on the page. I eagerly await the day where, much like in all of Peters’ fiction so far, fiction at large has a plurality of trans characters. I don’t want Torrey Peters to be the only major trans fiction writer (meaning both writer of trans fiction and trans writer of fiction). There are so many literary fiction novels with intentionally unlikeable cis protagonists in the tradition of Fleabag and far worse. We should be so lucky to one day have really unlikeable trans main characters because we’ll have a plethora of trans main characters who are really compelling and whom we love.

That being said, I would also love to have characters that I like. In her effort to tell stories with realistic interpersonal dynamics, Peters instead seems to be fighting against the spectre of Angel from RENT so hard that instead everyone is an asshole. As my best friend said (when I rambled this review to him immediately after finishing the book), “I have enough problematic trans people in my own life. Can someone be likable? Can we have a trans voice of reason?”

I thank Torrey Peters for showing painfully, uncomfortably real portrayals of young queer and trans adults who are still trying to figure everything out with themselves and one another. I know that real life is this messy, if not messier. Is there maybe a glimmer of hope, though? A beacon of stability that we can strive towards? I’m still probably going to read anything she publishes in the future, but I’m looking forward more to reading One of the Boys by Victoria Zeller.

(I’m going to end-cap this by saying I myself am not trans; my best friend quoted above is transmasc. I’m genuinely curious what other people thought of this book, and of Detransition, Baby, because I know many people, cis and trans alike, hold that up as a cornerstone of trans literature.)

#book review #fiction #stag dance #torrey peters #life in your late 20s to mid 30s is painful and weird and confusing #but even fictional characters can be right twice a day

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merryfortune · 6 months ago

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Jumping to Conclusions over Jumpers

Written for 12 Days of Yurimas

Dec 29th: Ugly Sweaters

Title: Jumping to Conclusions over Jumpers

Ship: Gothgfshipping | Gloria/Marnie

Fandom: Pokemon Sword and Shield

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,678

Warnings: None

Tags: Christmas, Fluff, Communication

“Happy holidays, hon, here’s your gift!” Marnie ecstatically shared with Gloria, arms outstretched and holding a haphazardly wrapped present in her hands. She grinned. “Go on, take it. Yer gonna love it.”

“Aw, thanks, Marnie.” Gloria replied.

She accepted the gift with a smile of her own. Though, it was quite small and paled in comparison to Marnie’s, which was very unusual of her. Marnie didn’t exactly wear her heart on her sleeve, after all, but here she was. Proud of punch, something on the tip of her tongue as she took a breath and blurted out a hint.

“I made it meself.” Marnie added.

“Huh?” Gloria blinked.

“Yeah, I put lots of love into it, too, because I know yer bit of a fashionista, Gloria.” Marnie admitted, she was trying to strike a tone of voice which was both modest but rightfully proud of her hard work. She shrugged. “I hope you like it.”

“Oh, I'm sure I will.” Gloria said - and was speaking far too soon.

Because here’s the thing… She and Marnie had been going out for several months now and even before that, she and Marnie had been the best of friends for a few years now.

Yet, somehow, this was the first time Gloria was hearing about Marnie’s apparent talent in making her own goods. She didn’t know Marnie was into things like handicrafts - or even so talented at making them that they were gift worthy materials.

Still, excited, Gloria was happy to learn a little bit more about her girlfriend that she didn’t know before. She held onto the present and whatever was inside the shiny, colourful paper was soft and limp. Already, Gloria was formulating a guess as to what it could be. Some kind of article of clothing seemed obvious but what exactly? And she couldn’t tell through the paper if it was knitted, crocheted, or sewn, either. So, Gloria decided there was only one way to find out.

It was time to open it up and take a look.

Gloria balanced the gift in her arms and was careful to undo the sticky tape. She knew Marnie was the frugal type, and making a gift aligned with that, so Gloria figured it would be polite to save the paper in case either she or Marnie wanted to reuse it. The paper was cute enough for being obviously from the discount section of the supermarket.

As the paper peeled away, the garment revealed was not exactly what Gloria was expecting. Or hoping. She had to stop herself from reacting poorly but Gloria could do little against the initial twinge of dislike that furrowed her brows and stopped her in her tracks because, um, she very much did not like it.

And Marnie could not know.

That was the instinct that Gloria followed up with as she turned her gaze from the ugliest jumper she had ever seen in her life to Marnie. Marnie looked so happy, so cheery in her scarf and jacket. She couldn’t have been prouder for presenting this gift to Gloria.

“Well?” Marnie urged her, awaiting praise with sparkles in her eyes. “Do you like it? I bet you do, I bet you love it even.”

Gloria held her tongue.

The jumper in question was a garish mustard yellow. It mixed patterns, like zig-zags and cables, with pom-poms that had been sewn on via a crochet hook unlike the rest of the monstrosity which was clearly knit. The collar was uneven, there was already holes in from where the yarn hadn’t been pulled tight enough during the process. It was shoddy and horrid and very clearly made with love.

It was so, so painfully obvious that Marnie had put her all into this jumper - and that it was a first attempt. Or so Gloria thought until Marnie shuffled closer, snow crunching under her boots, to reveal something else about the jumper.

That there was two of them.

“Tada.” Marnie said as she pulled the top jumper off what Gloria was holding. “It's a matching set, so everyone knows we’re, um, you know… a thing.” A scant blush turned Marnie’s cheeks rosy as she fessed up. “Oh, an’ don’t forget, there’s a special design on the back.”

She turned her jumper around to demonstrate the, quote, “special design”. As though it couldn’t already have been more clear that these ugly jumpers were a set, they even had Gloria and Marnie’s names felted onto them on the back inside of an acrylic applique which looked straight from the Valentine’s Day rack.

It was so earnest and so entirely hideous, too. It set Gloria’s teeth on edge as she couldn’t help herself. She had to tell Marnie what she wanted to hear even if it was a lie.

“G-Great, that’s, uh, just great.” Gloria stuttered.

“Wowsers, you are practically speechless. I knew I was good but I didn’t know I was that good.” Marnie laughed.

Taking entirely the wrong idea from Gloria’s courteous hesitation.

Gloria felt like she just took a field hockey stick to her gut. She couldn’t. It would be cruel of her to keep Marnie in the dark about her dislike of this very ugly jumper but look at her. She glowed with happiness, it was so nice and sweet and good on her for trying, honestly.

But that’s exactly why she needed honesty. She wasn’t going to get better at her hobby if Gloria buttered her up nonsensically.

“C’mon, let’s put ‘em on.” Marnie said.

“Right now? In front of everyone in the park?” Gloria croaked.

“Er, yeah.” Marnie confusedly replied.

Gloria stiffened as she watched Marnie take her jacket off to then slip her jumper on. She pulled it down, baggy and uneven, over her scrawny body and because her iconic leather jacket was a handmedown, of course it fit over the jumper.

“Go on, don’t be shy. I made it to be used, not to be stared at.” Marnie joked.

Robotically, without giving any heed to the part of her mind which was begging her not to and to come clean about her dislike of the jumper, Gloria did as she was told. She put it on over her head - and over her cardigan. Yep, lots of room even with the second layer.

“Aw, don’t we look as cute as cute can be.” Marnie laughed.

Gloria stood there. Knees knocking and not because of the cold. And they were attracting all kinds of attention. Most of it the wrong kind. It was the mid-afternoon of a chilly winter’s day and there were a few people, just like them, enjoying the snow but they seemed to hurry on due to the strange little scene between the Champion and her Gym Leader girlfriend.

Worse still, the longer Gloria stood there, the more she hated the jumper. It was itchy and scratchy. The yarn was low quality and seemed to fester, even through the shop quality of her cardigan. It was awful. Gloria grit her teeth.

She could hear Hop’s voice in her head, as though he were the angel on her shoulder. He wanted her to tell the truth, to be communicative about her feelings. He knew better than anyone that not doing that, that keeping it all inside would only hurt more people unnecessarily.

So, Gloria paid heed to her little Jimminy Nymble.

“Marnie.” she spoke up.

“Yes, hon?” Marnie replied upon prompt, she quit fidgeting where she stood, swirling and twirling her dress, and admiring the handiwork of her horrible jumper.

“Your, um, jumpers… your first attempts, correct?” Gloria asked. Her teeth chattered.

“Yes, they came out so good, too. I followed the pattern an’ ev’rything.” Marnie boasted.

“Well, its just… Here’s the thing…” Gloria quivered as she did her best to choose her next words very carefully. “I am SO proud of you for making them, I think you did a great job and put in a lot of hard work.”

“Aw, thank you muchly.” Marnie replied.

“But.”

Marnie paused. There was always a but and Gloria felt awful but she needed it off her chest. Literally and emotionally.

“But, I don’t like it.” Gloria said. “I think the colours clash and there’s more than a few errors apparent in its creation.”

Marnie sucked in a breath and her chin pruned, “You hate it?”

“No, no, I love it. For you. And I want to see you get even better at making jumpers, you had fun, right?” Gloria asked.

“Y-Yeah, lots o’ fun.” Marnie mumbled.

“Then I can’t wait for next year’s jumper. This year, it's the thought that counts. Next year, I bet you’ll make an even better jumper that, um, doesn’t have nearly as many holes in it. And is made from a softer yarn that isn’t as itchy, either. And why not ask me for my preferred colours to wear, too? Th-That could help.” Gloria blustered in her effort to provide constructive feedback.

Marnie’s eyes were shiny but she smiled, she nodded, “It's itchy on you, too, huh? I thought it was just me.” She offered a small laugh.

“Not just you.” Gloria replied and with her spare hand, she took Marnie’s and swung it playfully. “Let’s go get some hot Apple ciders and call it a day for this year? Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Marnie replied. She squeezed Gloria’s hand then let her go.

Gloria sighed in relief. Gladdened that she had come clean and hopefully, they would both be better off for it. They took off their jumpers and Marnie bundled them up inside of the paper. She started to chat to Gloria about how her next pair of matching jumpers were going to be much better and already had some ideas on how she could try again but different this time.

Gloria couldn’t wait as they walked off in the direction of the nearest warm cafe and out of this cold that whistled around them. Besides, they didn’t even need matching jumpers to obviously be an item, they were lovey-dovey enough without as they held hands on their stroll.

#12 days of yurimas #femslash #gothgfshipping #pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #marnie (pokemon)#gloria (pokemon)#fanfic tag #jumping to conclusions over jumpers

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dragongod800 · 10 months ago

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(this was a writing assignment for my imaginative writing class. It was a story-starter assignment The first sentence of the story was my story-starter)[looking for criticism and opinions]

The doorbell rang at midnight, and when I opened the door, there was no one there—except for a small box with my name on it. The night was still, the only movement the gentle swaying of tree branches in the breeze. I felt an uneasy prickle at the back of my neck as I scanned the empty street, but it remained silent and deserted.

The box was unassuming, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a simple string. My name was written in neat, almost delicate handwriting. I brought it inside, setting it on the kitchen table. The house was dark, the only light coming from the dim bulb above the table. It cast long, eerie shadows across the room.

I hesitated for a moment, then untied the string and carefully unwrapped the paper. Inside was a plain wooden box, polished to a smooth sheen. It was old, but well-kept, the kind of thing someone might cherish for years. There was a small latch on the front, which clicked softly as I opened it.

Inside, nestled in a bed of dark velvet, was a small, silver locket. It was intricately designed, the surface engraved with swirling patterns. It looked valuable, but not in a flashy way—more like a treasured keepsake. I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. It felt warm, almost like it had been held recently.

Curiosity pulled at me. Who would send me something like this? And why? I turned the locket over, looking for a way to open it, but the clasp was stuck. It didn’t seem broken, just… stiff, as if it hadn’t been opened in a long time.

I glanced at the clock—12:05. The late hour made everything feel more surreal, more ominous. I shook off the feeling and tried the clasp again, this time with a bit more force. It gave way with a soft click, and I opened the locket.

Inside was a tiny, faded photograph of a woman. Her face was partially obscured by shadows, but I could make out delicate features, a slight smile, and dark eyes that seemed to stare right through me. There was something oddly familiar about her, though I couldn’t place it.

I examined the photo, but there were no markings, no clues as to who she was or why this locket had been sent to me. I put it back in the box, frowning. The whole thing felt off, like a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit together.

I looked around the kitchen, at the empty chairs, the stillness of the room. Everything was normal, just as it had been before. But the longer I stared at the locket, the more unsettled I felt. There was nothing overtly wrong, nothing out of place—just this lingering unease that gnawed at the edges of my thoughts.

The silence in the house felt oppressive, heavy. I got up and checked the locks on the doors, made sure the windows were shut tight. As I moved from room to room, I found myself glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting to see someone there, watching.

But of course, there was no one.

Back in the kitchen, I stared at the box, at the locket inside. It was ridiculous, really—this small, innocent object causing so much anxiety. But I couldn’t help it. Something about it just didn’t sit right with me.

I decided to put it away, out of sight, out of mind. I placed the locket back in the box, closed the lid, and shoved it into the drawer beneath the counter. But even after I’d hidden it, the feeling didn’t go away. If anything, it grew stronger, as if the locket was still there, its presence pressing down on me, demanding attention.

I poured myself a glass of water, trying to calm my nerves. I was overreacting, letting my imagination run wild. It was just a locket. Nothing more.

But as I drank, I caught my reflection in the kitchen window. For a split second, I thought I saw something—a figure standing behind me, just out of sight. I spun around, my heart racing, but the room was empty. The silence was louder than ever, almost suffocating.

I shook my head, trying to laugh it off. It was late, I was tired, that was all. But as I stood there, staring at the empty room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Not with the house, not with the locket, but with me.

I decided to go to bed, to sleep off the strange feeling. But as I turned out the lights and made my way upstairs, I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman in the photograph. The way her eyes seemed to follow me, even when I wasn’t looking at the locket.

In the dark, as I lay in bed, I heard the faintest of creaks from the kitchen. Just the house settling, I told myself. But I couldn’t shake the image of the locket, sitting in that drawer, the woman’s face hidden inside, watching, waiting.

I closed my eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung to me, a creeping sense of dread that refused to leave. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep, the uneasy feeling still gnawing at the edges of my mind.

In the morning, I found the box on the kitchen table again, the locket inside, its clasp tightly shut..

#horror #suspense #mystery #thriller #unsettling #original story #eerie #unexplained

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birdo-is-here · 1 year ago

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also some writing I did, in which Phanuel and Dabria liberate a zoo

written from third-person perspective because why not

word length is 1390, no TWs that i can find! (let me know if i’ve missed any)

Phanuel manifested amidst a very crowded area. He looked around, taking in what he could of his surroundings that weren’t obscured by the bustling chatter of the human form. He was on some sort of flat, stone-esk path, likely built by humans. Hm, actually. As he looked around, he figured most of the things here were human-made.

Phanuel himself had made sure to take it upon himself to go incognito. Especially considering… recent events. He took the form of a blond-haired human with white highlights, because even if he was trying to be discreet he couldn’t possibly give up his theme – even if the colours had to be inverted. He wore some ‘denim jeans’ and an article of clothing he’d heard called a ‘letterman jacket’ atop a vibrant yellow ‘t-shirt’. All those funny human words.

Around him he figured were different types of fences: some metal and jutting out of the ground with more, muuuch longer metal bars running horizontally across the beams as support, creating some sort of grid pattern. Other fences were entirely clear – so clear he almost thought they weren’t there, but he wasn’t gonna be fooled twice by these dastardly demons supposedly called glass. The ‘glass’ ones were rather tall, and reinforced by wooden rims and beams.

Past the fences seemed to mimic several different natural environments. Admittedly, Phanuel only recognised a few of them. He saw animals resting in the trees and on the floors of the spaces, though!

A familiar, clawed, terribly feathery, figure landed on his shoulder, trilling something in his very human ear. He recognised the trills to be from the lovely Dabria, who seemed to be telling him not to stand in the middle of the road.

“Joke’s on you, I can’t even remember what a ‘road’ is,” The process of moving the lips to fit one’s speech was terribly redundant. He didn’t know why humans bothered with it.

Dabria made a small sound of disgruntlement. Just move to one side of the stone slab on the floor, it translated. He did as much, before finally doing what he had come here to do.

He scanned the environment, taking careful consideration not to have his head do a 360 degree turn, because apparently that wasn’t very natural for humans. And yet ‘glass’ was, he understood. Makes sense.

There were no signs of Jesus in the immediate vicinity, but he did pick up some other divine aura. Strange, he picked up quite a few divine auras, actually. They all seemed to be past the fences, but… lower. Underground, perhaps.

Dabria seemed to pick up on it as well, releasing a nervous scree. He could sympathise with her worries; most types of divine auras would mean bad news for them now. Still, Phanuel was a terribly curious angel. Fallen angel? Heaven-assigned fallen angel, he figured was closest. He didn’t really like to think about that too much.

He veered his attention back to the divinities underground. They seemed angelic, at least. Well, actually, that would be worse now, wouldn’t it… Hm. Anyway.

Phanuel approached the closest group of humans, waving to them in a very human fashion.

“Hello fellow humans! I must ask, is there anything underground?” For some reason Dabria did the owl equivalent of exclaiming her exasperation, which hurt Phanuel’s poor human ears, by the way.

The humans exchanged momentarily confused glances, before one of them responded, “uuuuhh… I guess there’s the underwater exhibit? Is that what you’re after?”

“Maybe! How would one get there?”

“Oh, it’s.. The entrance is just behind you, I believe,” Another pointed somewhere behind Phanuel, where he spotted a stairwell going down into the ground. There was an incredibly blue sign labelled ‘FISH AND FUN’ with a smaller sign next to the entrance that read ‘Come see the swimming harpies!’

Phanuel bid the humans farewell, before heading for the stairwell. As they got within typical eyeshot, Dabria released a small hoot. Harpies, she repeated the sign, once again slightly exasperated. Phanuel didn’t really know what those were.

When he expressed as much, Dabria gave another, slightly longer hoot. Mythological creatures. Not real at all. I think I can guess what those ‘harpies’ are supposed to be. He hummed, his attention drifting to the stairwell as he reached it. He hovered at the entrance a moment, though he was quickly ushered forward by a very impatient owl on his shoulder.

Inside was some sort of long human-made cave with rounded corners. Just ahead of him was more ‘glass’, barricading him from a very large, water-filled exhibit that held many, many scaled creatures of varying sizes. He recalled them to be the ‘fish’, if he wasn’t wrong.

There were also angels inside. About six or seven that he could see.

Oh that’s a problem actually. He momentarily stumbled back, preparing to leave the underwater exhibit before they noticed him and Dabria, but then he noticed something.

..Oh, they were Guardians. They had the odd scarf-like accessory to show as much. He debated his chances that they were unaware of the most recent news.

“Angels! Wherefore hast thou soggied yourselves?!” He called in a foreign language, in a way any human would not be able to hear. Dabria squawked very loudly in his ear. ARE YOU STUPID, she exclaimed, though Phanuel doubted he really needed to translate that one.

The angels looked over. A few of them were on the ‘sea’bed, resting gracefully on some rocks and slopes. Others were actually out swimming, playing in the currents. It was immediately obvious that they were trying to be dramatic about it, as if they were putting on some sort of show.

Their forms were distorted by the effect of the water, but it was easy to see how soaked they were – as one would be when spending all your time underwater. He wondered how heavy their feathers would be when they stepped out of the water.

“What?” The closest one replied. She had a sort of mustard-coloured halo, slightly distorted by the water just like her body. Fortunately, she didn’t immediately jump up to go apprehend him on sight, so he’d take any win he could get.

“Why are you in the water?” He clarified. Honestly he didn’t know where he learnt that other dialect.

“Oh! Uuuuh… it’s fun!”

“Oh, okay!”

Well that settles that, Phanuel thought. But then Dabria decided she wasn’t quite satisfied. Ask them if anyone knows what they actually are, she cooed. He repeated the bird’s question to them.

“The CEO does! And some other employees!” One called. “We’re working as interns!” Said another.

“Woah! I don’t know those words, but okay!”

Why would they be working as interns? Are they getting paid?

“Are you getting paid for it?”

“No! Mr. CEO man said we can stay to guard this place as long as we work as attractions!” One further up the back contributed.

Dabria made a rumbling noise of uncertainty. Phanuel didn’t really know any of these words, but he was happy to be here. She began to screech quietly again, giving quite a spiel of information for Phanuel to translate across.

“Okay— Have you ever heard of this thing called a union?”

“A bit! Not enough, though! What is that?”

“It’s this thing where like— You get money for your work, right?”

“Nah!”

“Well the.. Typical human gets money for their work, right?” He couldn’t really remember what money was all the time. It was brought up a lot, though, so he figured he’d have to get familiar with it.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah that happens!”

“You’re doing a work right now, and you’re not getting any money! And why would you need to intern for being a.. zoo attraction?”

Many of them hummed in strange unison. “That’s true! And we can get cool things with money!”

“Yes! . .. y. yes?” He looked to Dabria, who nodded in confirmation. “Yes!”

“Wooow! Oh, well– let’s go on strike!”

They said it very cheerfully, the one who spoke clasping her hands together in front of her torso. A moment later, all the angels were teleported out of the tank, and Phanuel heard screams of shock and a bit of fear upstairs.

Dabria bopped him on the head with a wing. Job well done, we should probably go before chaos erupts.

“Yes!” He replied with finality.

Truth be told, he didn’t know what he just did, but he enjoyed the validation from the owl. The scene began to change around him as he teleported away.

#birdo babbles for an extended period of time #angel goober shenanigans #birdo’s silly little guys

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ariannes-gibberish · 7 months ago

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Debugging An Essay

- a reflection paper.

On a Tuesday morning at school, our professor gave each one of us a paper and asked us to proofread it. As I read the paper, it felt like something was wrong, while it did have grammatical and punctuation errors that needed to be pointed out for the activity, there was something about it that was bugging me. As if despite the proper English and format, it felt like it wasn't really written from someone's mind and heart.

The proofreading activity was quite fun yet as someone who’s really not confident with their grammar, I couldn’t help but overthink every word if they’re right or wrong - especially if it was written in a style that I don’t like, especially its tone. But thankfully, I was able to get most of it right. The activity was an eye-opening experience to how I’ve been dependent on Grammarly when it comes to proofreading my own writing. While this tool has helped me work more efficiently, activities like these really make you realize that it is better to learn and improve your grammar on your own than rely on an AI tool to prevent situations like this where it feels you’re unable to finish a task without feeling helpless due to the absence of AI.

What was interesting about the activity was that it was actually made by an AI tool called “ChatGPT”, the answers were also made by it. When this was revealed to us students, it explained why the text itself felt off. While the AI did a good job at providing a structured and informative article, it also showed that it didn’t have the same authenticity and knowledge that a human possesses when writing an article on their own, it lacked the human touch and it felt too structured as if it was strictly following a template. It was quite amusing how the tool made mistakes that weren’t flagged as mistakes on its end, while we students managed to point them out. For instance, some of us pointed out how some parts of the article are redundant and I believe that the AI didn’t see this as an error since most of its data that is used to generate are probably from vast sources all over the internet.

As someone who has had fair use of ChatGPT, this tool really makes our tasks easier and it uses less time to finish them - this tool also helps when I’m having a difficult time brainstorming for ideas. But I’ve always noticed how limited the tool is in providing creative ideas, while it has given me a wide range of suggestions that might have not occurred to me before - it lacks depth. The ideas it generates aren’t fresh or innovative - it’s just patterns and data from pre-existing content, but I do have to admit that sometimes it has helped me get out of a mental block and has sparked inspiration at times when I need it the most.

Nonetheless, this activity proves that AI may be a helpful tool for generating content and assisting in finishing tasks but that’s just it, just a tool, and shouldn’t and should never be used as an alternative to humans. If there’s one thing that people keep forgetting is that AI doesn’t have our ability to think “outside the box” nor has perspectives that come from our lived experiences. Even if it provides the “perfect” output that we’re looking for, it doesn’t and will never have the “human touch” that makes our creations better, that an AI can never replicate. In the end, it is our humanity, insight, creativity, and lived experiences that breathe life into our work, that brings meaning to what we make.

While I understand the importance of working efficiently, we must take our time to learn how to create, make, craft, and write things on our own. It may take a while for us to be good at it but I believe that’s the beauty of it, to take our precious time honing our craft, to figure out how to make things on our own instead of relying on an AI tool for the results we need.

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arwenkenobi48 · 2 years ago

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Happy Halloween, Doctor Hypnos

The wind ruffled my hair as I crept gingerly down the empty street. Aside from the flickering glow of a streetlight, only a full moon illuminated the midnight skies. The rhythmic, hollow tapping of my footsteps sounded much louder than they actually were. Despite knowing I was the only one out at this hour, I couldn’t help feeling like I wasn’t alone.

Looking around to reassure myself that I wasn’t being followed, I peered down the long slope of a subway tunnel. It led down into pitch darkness. My hands shook slightly as I gripped the metal railings. I gulped and steadied myself. It was now or never. With slow, methodical footsteps, I descended into the tunnel.

Turning on my flashlight, I half expected to see someone - or something - peering out at me from the shadows, but I saw that I was still deserted. So, my old friend hadn’t arrived yet. Or maybe he had and I was unable to see him. There was only one way to find out.

I made my way through the tunnel, shining my light at the graffiti on the walls, watching as they changed from spray paint scribbles to detailed street art to intricate, spiralling patterns. A smile of relief spread across my face. He was close by, I could sense it. I just had to keep going. Just a little further…

“Hello, Ezra.” His voice made me jump out of my skin. Whirling around, I pointed the torch at a tall figure clad entirely in black leather, with a hooded cloak and - most notably - a plague doctor’s mask. “Doctor Hypnos!” I exclaimed, once I’d got my breath back. “You scared me! Do you ever consider making a non-startling entrance?”

“First of all, you also startled me with that flashlight,” the evil genius replied. “Second of all, where would the fun be in that?” “Touché.” I answered. Doctor Hypnos approached a hidden door at the end of the tunnel and entered an enigmatic security code. The door opened, revealing the villain’s secret lair. “Shall we?” He purred, extending a gloved hand, which I eagerly took. We both stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind us.

“So, the penultimate month of the year is nearly upon us,” Mused Hypnos, wearing Mesmer the python around his neck like a scaly scarf. “Yep,” I smiled, pulling a large packet of mochi out of my bag. “I figured that since it’s Halloween, I’d bring you something sweet. You’ll probably have to remove your mask, though.”

“Why, thank you, my dear boy,” Doctor Hypnos examined the packet curiously. “I shall certainly enjoy these.” “That’s not all, I’ve got some good news as well,” I continued excitedly. “I know I haven’t written about you for a while, but I’m going to resume your latest adventure!”

A muffled gasp of excitement could be heard behind the birdlike mask. “That is most excellent news,” Doctor Hypnos chuckled evilly. “I must admit, I am deeply honoured that you decided to write a sequel.” “Hey, it’s the least I could do. You’ve become quite popular on my blog, you know.” “Well, I look forward to seeing what happens next,” Doctor Hypnos replied. Somehow, despite his face still being hidden, I could tell he was beaming with pride.

#creative writing #Halloween #happy halloween #Doctor Hypnos #writing #writing warm up #motivation

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vividaway · 2 years ago

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mini analysis on the finale

yall im not even gonna lie..........i liked the season 5 finale. the concept that these are teenagers who have been beaten and worn down to a crisp to the point of multiple mental breakdowns from both marinette and adrien.........like of course marinette didn’t tell adrien. she’s a literal child, and she loves him, and honestly? its really not her PLACE to tell him. emilie knows about gabriels involvement with the miraculous. nathalie knows about EVERYTHING. there are multiple ADULTS who can step in and talk to him about this, and they chose not to. multiple people have said it: of COURSE adrien deserve to know, and i will be very upset if they never write in him finding out. but it also seems excessively cruel to do that to adrien. as far as adrien is aware, his dad was trying. he thinks his dad is a man chiseled away by depression and grief, who turned towards his works to cope with the loss. he believes there was a turning point where his father started to try. he allowed him to go to school, to make new friends and go to their house, allowed him to quit, started to show up to school events, and finally started to show him affection. adrien is none the wiser on WHY, and it feels extremely cruel to take away what little happy moments he had left with his father. what is the bare minimum to us, is literally EVERYTHING to adrien, and to me, that does mean something. to me, seeing gabriel sacrifice himself for adrien and his wife-- means EVERYTHING. it is what differentiates an evil, unrecoverable person, from a dynamic character who was never meant to be a good person. we were never meant to like gabriel. he’s the villain! but that doesn’t mean we aren’t supposed to be sympathetic to certain aspects of his journey. i really do think his character was written well. gabriel is a bad, unredeemable man, who did one good action. i personally can’t look at gabriel from season one and say, “he shouldve sacrificed his life in place of his wives life sooner”, it feels wrong. gabriel from season 1 was EXTREMELY different from gabriel from season 5. we see him change (for the worse) over the course of five seasons.

and the thing about how gabriel is written is like, its realistic. gabriel isnt just a cartoon villain from some kids show, he show’s patterns of real life villains as well. the manipulation, the lying, the guilt tripping, the abuse-- all of it. and thats why, i understand why some people are pissed he got redeemed. but for me, i see the build up. lila has the photographs from gabriels house, and she knews he was monarch. on top of this, it seems like she’s the successor to the butterfly miraculous. people know what he did, and its not just the people on the good side. i don’t see gabriel staying a sympathetic figure for much longer. but all this being said, i dont think it was the worst. the pacing was great, and the animation was top tier for me. theres so many episodes where i can predict whats going to happen next, but i couldn’t with this one. some thing about it just felt....special. like if you showed alyssa from 2016 the finale, i could literally die. no need to show a peasant child, just showing Season One Era fans what happened and how it looks and we’d just. die. everything about it 10x better than we couldve imagined. the writing, the animation, the pacing, the score, the dialogue, the way the world has expanded and been built up and how often we’re interacting with “background characters”. for once, it felt like i was watching a real show, with a plot that made sense, and wasnt a dumpster fire. but...from reading the #MLBS5Spoilers tag....yall do NOT agree with my sentiments! and thats okay!

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head-empty-only-sunshine · 3 years ago

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Part of You

Eclipse X Reader

A/N: Once again writing this in the back room uwu. Gotta get some content out before I drop my self insert like it's hot. Anyway, there's a lot of gender neutrality in this one. Eclispe uses they/them exclusively, and reader has no gender. Issa they them party ayyyy. Side note, this was written so you can picture your fave eclipse when reading it.

Description: The lights broke. In the w h o l e Pizzaplex. Flickering and dim lights lead to a unique discovery though, and you get pulled away from your work to do a bit of comforting that is 110% necessary. Undoing the damage that others have done is always a difficult task.

Tags: fluff, gn!reader, programmer!reader, established relationship, comfort, so sugary sweet

Word Count: 2000

Sometimes you wondered how in the hell this place stayed up and running. Despite the new management and heavy upgrades, old problems eventually caught up to the establishment, and now you were on double duty.

The Plex was closed for the day due to faulty lighting in ninety percent of the building. Lights were flickering pretty much everywhere, or were just straight up out. Another large chunk of lighting had gone dim, causing poor lighting in many areas and leading to staff members tripping over themselves and every other thing hanging around. It was quite the refined mess, and now you had to lead a group of technicians to fix it.

You had been at it for hours, ordering more suitable workers to replace old lights, fixing generators, rewiring old fail safes that were no longer up to code, and all other things of the sort. It was a miracle you had as much knowledge and leadership as you did, stepping in to help out your fellow coworkers between rerouting things on the network to avoid lethal electrical shocks to anyone. It was a huge team effort, putting you on your feet for nearly nine hours by now. It was necessary though, so you all held your complaints until the building was safe to walk through again.

Once the main halls were back in order, you and your coworkers started going into specific rooms to check the situation. The daycare just so happened to be the next stop, which jogged your memory. Through all the intense work, you hadn’t gone to check up on Sun or Moon, and figured that now would probably be a good time to do so considering how spooky the place was looking right now. With a wave you told your group you’d page them on any changes to the situation while they worked on the generators, leaving to go and check up on your partners; whichever one would be present in these wacky circumstances.

Without stable power you couldn’t ride the fly line up, so you had to use the stairs like a regular person. Groaning with each step you finally made it up into their room, but found things to be a little different than they normally were. With a gentle creak of the door opening, you saw the dim, flickering lights tingeing the room an odd orange tone every time they flickered brighter, not completely turning off. The whole place was poorly lit, making it hard to see if Sun or Moon was around. There was someone there though. They were just… crumpled into a corner, concerning you greatly. You dropped your bag at the door, and made your first move.

“Sun? Moon? Is that you?” You called out tentatively, watching the figure in the corner jolt upon hearing your voice.

“N-no! Go away!” They responded.

The voice was odd, but familiar. It sounded like both Sun and Moon at the same time, and now you were curious. You would not in fact be going away, and marched yourself on over to that corner to see what was going on. Though half turned, you were able to tell clearly what was going on, and you were both shocked and impressed.

It was neither Sun nor Moon, but a unique combination of both. Half of the sun rays were out, the hat was there, the colour combination was mixed between the two of them, as well as the clothing patterns being jumbled between what was usually Sun’s and Moon’s as well. It was almost as if they had merged. You were so very intrigued by this phenomena, and gently reached out. This form shied away from your hand when they noticed it getting near though, and you became confused.

“Hey, it’s me, _______. Head tech? Your… partner? Sun… Moon… er, what do I call you…?” You pondered, trying to bring ease to the poor form on the floor.

“Please don’t deactivate us.” Was the only thing they said.

“Wait, what? Why would I- No! Oh my god no I would never!” You insisted, quite appalled that such a thought even existed.

“But this is… we are a bug…” They repeated, almost sounding sad.

You let out a deep sigh and sat yourself down behind this new form, staring at the back of their head. You crossed your arms, not wanting your touch to bring sudden discomfort to this clearly uncomfortable situation.

“I doubt this is a bug. Everything is so intricate it can’t be anything but deliberate. This is intentional. What… what do I call you when you’re like this? To save me from being rude.”

Your gentleness and comforting tone were finally enough to get them to turn around and look at you, a morphed expression of fear and trust resting on either side of their face. The look in your eyes was strong enough to bring them comfort thankfully, and they finally gave you a name.

“We are… Eclipse.”

“You say ‘we’ so… does that mean that…” You paused.

“Yes. Both Sun and Moon are present and able to speak. We are one in the same right now.” They confirmed.

“That’s wild. How does this mode come about? Like what triggers this?” You questioned further.

“Dim lights, heavy black lighting, and… emergency situations. This is a mode that can only be maintained under lighting like this or dire security protocols.” They answered reluctantly.

“That’s amazing. Why would I ever delete a protocol like this? It’s clearly necessary, and meant to happen. What makes you think the first thing I’d do is wipe you out?” You asked gently.

“Last time we… hurt someone.”

You let that sink in while silence flooded the room once more. Eclipse hurt someone. But with the combined efforts of both Sun and Moon, plus the circumstances needing to be so specific, there’s no way it was a bad thing. It had to be justified, and now you had to know.

“May I… check your memory banks? I know I’ve never done so before, but I’m curious to know what happened. Maybe I can bring you some closure?” You offered.

“N-no! You’ll decommission us for good! I know you will-”

“Eclipse. Honey.” You interrupted, reaching out to hold their hand. “I wouldn’t dream of getting rid of you. I’m just curious. I want to bring you peace. You shouldn’t be so scared in this form. You should be free.”

There was hesitance when Eclipse stared at you, but they had to remember that this was you they were with. You were special. You have never done anything to hurt them. You… were the one they loved. They nodded, giving you their trust and sliding out of the corner a little for you to reach them with ease. A sigh of relief left you, happy that they weren't totally lost.

“I promise I’m just looking. You can watch it with me.” You stated again.

You crawled away to where you dropped your bag and dragged out your laptop and connectors. Carefully, still watching Eclipse’s expressions, you wired him into your laptop and got started on accessing their memory banks. You had never done so before, because you felt like you were invading someone’s privacy. The last time you looked into old memories was for a security issue on one of the Glamrocks; specifically Monty to pull footage and prove innocence on behalf of the Plex. It still felt dirty even then, but curiosity won this time. With permission, you carefully dug up the old file from last time Eclipse was active, and watched.

The footage was honestly pretty gruesome. They did not lie when they said they hurt someone. Watching back that footage knowing you were now a witness to it too made Eclipse cringe, but you got some details that were left out. The man in question of the attack had every right to have a gash that big ripped out of his chest. The man was… well, to put it lightly, a predator. Eclipse activating was the correct response, and saved that child. The only issue was how rich he was, which had a close lawsuit almost fall through. That’s most likely where the original threat to decommission them came from, and it made you livid.

“I’ve seen what I needed to. That man deserved every bit of what you did to him. Now who the hell said they’d decommission you for that?” You asked, closing your laptop and unhooking them.

“The last tech…”

“God!” You huffed in a fit. “It’s always something with that last tech. That prick did a mental number on all of the animatronics here at least once. Look, you don’t need fixing. This right here is a part of who you are, and I would NEVER change anything about you unless you asked me to do it yourself. I will never change who you are. This isn’t a glitch. In fact, I’m surprised they haven’t made this mode more easy for you to get into. But then again, that’s something I can discuss with you later on depending on your feelings.”

“_______, we…”

“Hold on. Both of you are here, right? You said Sun and Moon become one when you’re like this?” You asked, reaching out to hold their face.

A nod.

“Lovely then. Eclipse, I love you. All of you. I will never change you because realistically, who the hell would? I get to speak to both of you right now. How rare is that? This is the only way I’ll ever get to love you both at the same time, and I wouldn’t change that even if it would save my life to do so.” You told them sweetly.

You sealed your statement with a kiss, gently rubbing your thumb across their cheek as weak, oily tears spilled from their eye sockets. Originally a feature that was deemed pointless but implemented anyway by your encouragement, it made them feel more real. More human. More valid in what they felt. Though shaky they reached out to you, and you quickly moved yourself into their lap to allow the closest embrace possible. Your words were enough to heal the fracture in their mechanical heart, and for once, they knew they were safe. The safest place was here, you in their arms, your lips pressed to theirs.

The sweetness your kiss left lingered, and instead of fear, Eclipse was now flustered as all hell. More so than usual too. Must be because of how they were combined that it doubled their emotions. The odd flustering shade of pink and blue spread on separate sides of their face, and you giggled, happy that they had found contentment again.

“Mmm, I feel like the lights will be repaired soon.” You mused. “My team does good work. Would you like me to turn down the slider to keep them dim once power is regulated? You know, so we can stay like this.”

“... Please. We need you right now.” Eclipse nodded.

You smiled and offered one more quick little kiss before you stood up to turn down the lights. It was crazy how correct you were, power being restored mere seconds after you dimmed the lights. A little buzz ran through Eclipse, but they were fine. When you came back to them, you were scooped up immediately and plastered against their chest in a desperate hug. Perhaps you needed to give a little more care to your robotic partners. This was a lot of pent up fear, but you were glad to finally have it released now. Warmth flooded over both of you as you hugged tightly, finally at ease.

You sent off a quick little page over your phone to your team, letting them know you wouldn’t be back down for at least an hour or two. There were some more important things that needed fixing and it would take a while. They didn’t need to know it was a heart you were healing. Not yet.

#fluff #eclipse x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf #fnaf security breach #eclipse #fnaf eclipse #reader insert #established relationship #comfort #fnaf sun #fnaf moon

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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reckless [02.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. angst, toxic situations

✘ note. yes, feel free to scream at me in the asks. but like don’t worry, i promise there’s more to come and there’s more to happen! it’s going to get fluffier as we go hehehehe. ALSO, I can’t help but feel that Zayn’s “Let Me” speaks perfectly to CEO playboy Gojo. hmph.

one ✘ two ✘ three

One glance at the tall man beside you, and you would’ve thought he would pass out soon.

Satoru had been endlessly fidgety hours before the appointment. Flicking from music stations to another, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel or sighing at the sight of you calmly watching the city go by in a flash – it was clear he was restless. Judging from the dark circles he tried to conceal under a pair of shades, he probably hadn’t slept much last night as well.

Now that you were both inside the clinical room, with you laying back down on the reclined bed, belly exposed and all for him to marvel at, his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing. “Satoru, calm down. It’s just a doctor’s appointment.”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m just…excited yet nervous, you know? It feels so real now.”

Real didn’t begin to cover it. Although you masked your nervous quite well, you felt your stomach tighten when a woman came in. Her smile was gentle and comforting enough, talking you both through the process and spilling little fun facts about pregnancy. She applied a cool gel over your belly before turning to a screen, where mixed dots and waves of black and white blurred in front of your visions. Your eyes widened in awe, throat dry from the inability to speak. The baby had always felt real, but seeing it with your own two eyes, a small figure barely even a comprehensible shape in the screen, you couldn’t help but tear up a little.

“That’s mine?” Satoru breathed out, absentmindedly looping his hands through yours. It made you stiffen for a quick second, but your attention was quickly pulled back to the sonogram. “We made that?”

Your heart clenched at his words.

He sounded so happy – like all his dreams came true and you’d just given him a gift that was beyond priceless. You supposed it really was; a baby was always a miracle and joy to have, but this child wasn’t made out of love. How could he have so much fondness for something he didn’t want in the first place?

“The baby is perfectly healthy. This pregnancy doesn’t seem like a high-risk one, but it’s too early to tell so we’ll keep checking in on you,” the doctor pushed her glasses back to her nose, the sound of her cool voice pulling you back from a dangerous path of self-doubt and wariness. “Do you guys want to know the gender?”

Glancing at Satoru, you shook your head. It was amusing that you didn’t need to share words before he got the meaning behind one look, and he squeezed your hand as if to say he understood.

“I’d like that to be more of a surprise. Thank you, doctor.”

“Congratulations on being a father, Sir,” she bowed, and it occurred to you just now she was probably a family doctor. Satoru did end up keeping his promise that your pregnancy be kept private for a while. This little detail made you turn to him with shock written all over your face, though his attention was centred in on the swirling monochrome colours on the screen. Whether the doctor noticed the brewing tension between you two or not, you were still gad when they bowed once more to excuse themselves. “I’ll leave you two to talk now.”

The moment she was gone, you sat up and pushed your blouse down. Satoru’s demeanour had changed as well. His smile was wiped from his face, replaced only by a slight downturn of his lips.

Sighing, you swung your legs over the bed, not minding one bit that he was inches away from resting his chin onto your thighs. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been so worried since we got here.”

Satoru winced.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Even if you aren’t, it’s not that hard to see through you,” you spoke gently, a spirit possessing you because there would’ve been no other logical reason on why you placed a palm over his. Satoru’s hands were warm and large as he cupped your knee, tracing little patterns over your jeans as he kept his gaze lowered to the floor. It was an odd sight to see; that the Gojo Satoru refused to look a woman in the eye. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Satoru’s sigh is painfully drawn out, though his chuckles took the brunt.

“I don’t know what to do – how to be a father, I mean. Don’t you ever get worried…that maybe we might fuck up and ruin someone’s life?”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes – which you really wished he didn’t, because you’d never seen such azure this up close before. It was no secret that his eyes alone stole the hearts of people, but you had to remind yourself he broke them as well, so that you pulled away right before he got too close for comfort. It wasn’t what he needed anyway. Satoru simply required reassurance, so you opted for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Weren’t you the one telling me the other day we’ll work it out?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, a smile lighting up his features once more. “Are you feeling good? There’s someplace I want to take you, as a celebration for our healthy baby.”

You pursed your lips. As much as you appreciated his enthusiasm, this ‘celebration’ didn’t sound like a good idea. You’ve made mistakes before and now you lived the consequence of it; being reckless was outdated. Caution, wariness, and space were the top three perfect recipes for the complete opposite of a disaster.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why not?” he challenged, taking your hand in his as he guided you out the clinic. You made no comment on why he led you out the back where he’d parked his car, even going as far to bow for you as he opened your door. “Liven up a little, we got good news today! Plus, we didn’t both take a day for nothing. Come on, you’re going to have fun, I promise you!”

“And where would we go where people won’t recognize you?”

“Somewhere people are too lost in their own world to focus on others,” Satoru announced before sending you a side glance, smooth hands already on their way to rev the engine.

This wouldn’t go down well. Or at least that was what you wanted to believe, because his smile and excitement were too contagious that you couldn’t restrain the smile you wore.

“A carnival? Really? We’re too old for this.”

“We’re never too old for anything,” he insisted, placing his hands on your shoulders as he maneuvered from stall to stall. Everywhere around you, children and people of all ages milled by, laughter and screams that fading into the distance. One survey at the long, endless lines for the rides and crowded spaces, you grimaced, feeling an uncomfortable weight resting on your shoulders that was beyond Satoru’s hands. “Aw, come on, don’t be such a bore. Day offs like these are rare and think about the baby! Don’t you think they would’ve wanted us to get a long?”

“You’re just using the baby as an excuse to have fun.”

Of course he would – Gojo Satoru was like a man-child. Whether it was someone randomly bringing donuts or puppies into the office, he easily lit up like a firework, seemingly finding joy in every little thing. Being stuck in the office and forced to work his ass off under your supervision must’ve taken a toll on him too.

Add on the fact he hadn’t gone out on dates or parties ever since he found out he was going to be a dad, the desperation to go out and do something was written all over his face.

Satoru pouted. “That’s mean. Take that back.”

“No.”

“And I’m the childish one here?” he snickered. You merely rolled your eyes at him and gave in; too much time spent working and not enough time relaxing (not that being a carnival was your definition or relaxation, but alas, Satoru was dragging you around everywhere like always) wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“You see that bear over there? I’m going to win that for you. It could be my first ever present for our baby.”

There was no stopping him. You didn’t want to, either, because you just stood there, arms crossed against your chest as you let him do whatever he pleased. A literal man-child, a youthful soul stuck in an irritatingly attractive man’s body – these were the thoughts that ran through your head while Satoru kept swinging his arm back and forth. He chose a stall where you had to knock down stacks of cans down with one set of three balls, all because he wanted to win a bear. You would really rather go home than watch him fail four times now, but he wasn’t giving up, only flexing his shoulders before gesturing to the young man.

“Hey man, three more balls please.”

Nothing was funny about it at all. Watching your boss fail miserably even after ten tries shouldn’t have been so hilarious, yet sweat was dripping all over his face and his patience was hanging on a loose thread that you were giggling before you knew it.

His usual confident bravado began to tear down bit by bit, his face flushed from the sounds of your teasing.

“Satoru, stop,” you laughed, “We’ve been here for twenty minutes and your wallet might as well be empty! You can just go buy a bear at the mall.”

“You’re too functional. Where would be the meaning behind it if I just bought a random bear?” he huffed, pushing the sleeves of his denim jacket up to his elbows. Determined now more than ever, he even stretched his long arms side to the side with a shake of his hips. You could tell the young man manning the stall was hiding his amusement by whistling to himself, but Satoru really was such a ridiculous sight you couldn’t blame him. “No, I’m going to get that for you, then I’ll brag to my baby how cool their dad was when he knocked those cans down.”

“You mean, if you knock those cans down.”

His shoulders deflated. “Support me a little bit, will you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, it might just inflate your ego and you’ll be too distracted by yourself to ever actually knock those cans down,” He threw a ball with a force so strong it hit the curtain above the cans, and it bounced back somewhere below the tables. It didn’t even touch the can by a smidge, and you snorted. “See what I mean?”

Expecting that Satoru would take insult to heart (as his ego was easily wounded, this much you knew when he refused to talk to anyone at the office for a whole day because one of his directors forgot his name) you smirked at him, but that smirk immediately dropped when he grinned back at you. He was no longer wimpy like before, an aura of confidence brimming from him. “That’s like the second time you’ve told me I was distracting,” he mused, leaving you baffled because he was right. “On the contrary, I think you’rea lot more distracting, so I take that back. Just stand there and watch me win.”

“Okay,” you drawled out in faux disinterest, thankful for the corny carnival music and chatter from the crowd that he couldn’t hear your poor beating heart.

You were too focused on pretending to be unbothered by him that you failed to see how the cans were knocked down. The counter guy was already picking them up as Satoru pumped his fists in the air, way too much like a child high on sugar.

Was this really the father of your baby?

“I won! I fucking won! That huge brown bear, please!”Satoru’s smile from holding the bear that was half his size couldn’t even compare to the city lights and sparklers. Even his eyes were lit up in joy as he skipped back to you, happily waving the doe-eyed bear in front of you. At your lack of reaction, he sighed before jutting his cheek out to you. “No congratulations kiss?”

“How about a slap?”

“Kinky,” he teased, sending your brain to overheat when he tapped his chin in thought. “Well, you did make my back bleed so I kind of got the idea you’re sort of extreme in bed – ow! Would you please stop hitting me? I just won you a wonderful prize and your first reaction is to hit me! This arm is exhausted from swinging endlessly, you know.”

“Maybe if you aimed better, you wouldn’t have had to exhaust yourself. Like I said, you could’ve just bought a bear,” you scolded, raising your arm threateningly when he opened his mouth again. Idiot. “Give me that.”

Satoru effortlessly swung the bear until it was under your chins, his white lashes ethereal as he peeked at you through them. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath dusting on your cheeks, that same warmth that had been mixing with yours in a sloppy, heated kiss just weeks ago. “And who said I was letting you carry this?” he taunted, thoroughly enjoying how for once, you weren’t hitting him.“I’m supposed to wave this around proudly then place it in our baby’s room when we get home. Besides, your hand looks heavy already.”

“My hands? Wait, what do you mean our baby’s room?”

At your words and questioning gaze, Satoru did a quick turn, trying to use the bear as a shield.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I may or may not have had my parents’ guest room renovated as a baby room, although if you ask me, I think moving somewhere else would be much better. Raising a child in a penthouse doesn’t seem like such a great idea if you ask me,” opening your mouth to scold him, Satoru stopped you by placing a finger on your lips, noses grazing against each other. “Don’t scold me right now; I know that look on your face and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, okay? We can still decorate it ourselves. I just had the beds removed and the space cleaned out. Now stop over thinking and let me help you with your problem.”

You pushed his face away for the sake of your heart. In fact, you should be paid for your acting skills for looking so unaffected.

“What problem?”

“Your hands look heavy,” he beamed, long fingers looping through yours as he swayed them side to side. “So let me carry it for you.”

“Satoru, I—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he blinked innocently while surrendering his free hand, “I’m not doing this for you, it’s for the baby. Did you know oxytocin is released and makes you feel good and reduces pain, maybe even stress? We can pump your oxytocin levels through touch. It also lowers your blood pressure, and we want you at your happiest and healthiest for this pregnancy, right?”

“Since when were you an expert on this?”

“Since I found out I’m becoming a dad,” his words struck you speechless, mouth pressed into a flat line as you stared him openly. You hadn’t mean to come off as rude in that moment; you were just trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words, to explore the depth in his eyes, but Satoru must’ve took it wrong as he cleared his throat, “I can let go if you really want me to.”

“N-no! It’s fine…can we move? We’ve been standing here for ten minutes now,” Embarrassed, you pointed to the closest thing in your sight – a photo booth. “How about there? That looks fun.”

Satoru followed where your arm was pointed, laughing when a couple exited the red curtains while giggling amongst themselves. The guy even leaned down to steal a long kiss from his lover, and if you were embarrassed before, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back again right now. “You know, if you wanted me to be stuck in a cramped space next to you, you could’ve just said so. I didn’t bring the limo with me, but the Audi could be pretty small for us, I guess…”

You hissed at him in warning, “God, you never shut up do you?”

“It made you smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“Sure, mommy, whatever you say,” bumping his hip with yours, Satoru led you inside the cube. There were a plethora of filters to choose from; ranging from heart frames and ones that placed shades on your face. Not really thinking of what to pick, you reached out to press the frog hats one, but Satoru was swatting your hands away for the effect with heart emojis everywhere. “This is cute. We can show this to our baby once they’re born.”

“They won’t really know what a Polaroid is, Satoru.”

“It’s still sentimental!” he grumbled before clicking the camera icon, a huge smile already on his face until he saw you squished on the other side of the booth. Only one side of your ear could be seen, and Satoru furrowed his brows at you. “Come closer, you’ll be cropped from the frame.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t act shy now, I already fucked a baby into you,” mouth falling open at the vulgarity of his words, Satoru took the chance to drag you beside him. “Relax, you’re always so stiff. Our baby might come out frowning if you keep huffing like that.”

“You’re too close for comfort.”

“My apologies, I’ll try not to be included in the photo when you’re the one who suggested this in the first place,” he muttered playfully, booping your nose before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He was close, too close, that his musky perfume filled the close space. You wanted to lean closer to his warmth and sturdiness of his broad shoulders; his mere presence bringing about a sense of tranquillity despite your words. You told yourself it shouldn’t be too bad to lean into him for just a little while, absentmindedly following him as he cheers, “Smile!”

One photo turned into two, and Satoru ended up inserting a few more bills into the slot to take more. He tried out as many filters as he wanted, acting as if you two had been long time friends from how easy it was for him to be around you like that.

You supposed it came from his heavy experience with women. You were so unlike; while he was open to touch and didn’t care too much about space, you craved it deliriously.

It was obvious none of this meant anything to Satoru. You were probably just another woman in his life, with the exception that you had a kid, but you couldn’t mean something more. If anything, he treated you more like an old friend than a lover. He’d said it himself before that you weren’t his type and you didn’t mind, so why did it hurt the longer you mulled about it? Sure, you may not be as attractive or luxurious as his previous lovers, but did you really not even have charismatic pull? Is it because you weren’t his type that he was so casual with you, while you on the other hand, felt like you would lose your mind at every little thing he did?

You watched as Satoru pulled out his wallet and kept the Polaroid of you both grinning at the camera, forming a silly heart shape with your hands per his request. It was silly and platonic – yet the gesture confused you to no end.

“Why’d you do that?”

Satoru’s hand paused. “Am I not allowed to…?”

“We’re not lovers. You can’t just put a photo of us in your wallet.”

As if to prove a point, Satoru pulled out more photos of his wallet and showed it to you. There were several more wallet-sized photos, mostly of his white cat with black shades, another of him and his best friend, Shoko, and the last photo was of him skiing. They were all placed in his wallet along with a small, faded out photograph of what seemed to be his parents from the younger days. You couldn’t understand why he was showing you this, much less how patient he was as he smiled softly at you. “It’s memorabilia. I keep photos of everyone I care about everywhere with me,” he said, pocketing his wallet back before gazing up at the night sky. “I like to think we’re friends, at least. We’re definitely not just boss and employee anymore.”

Then what are we?

There were so many things you wanted to ask. You always knew he was always this overly friendly and nice, but what did make you? What did a friend mean to him? Other than Shoko, who was his lesbian friend who was also the company��s resident doctor, you’d never seen him be platonic with another female before.

The realization made your mood drop.

Maybe you were right. He probably didn’t even see you as a woman, but what did it matter? You didn’t like him. You shouldn’tlike him. Even if he had no intentions of wooing you, Gojo Satoru was far too appealing for his own good. Being around him was dangerous for your heart.

“Wanna ride the ferris wheel? The night city always looks beautiful.”

He was just your boss...and you were just a friend. Things were going to be alright as long as no feelings were involved. You survived seven years of working with him with not a single moment where your heart fluttered when he spoke your name; a baby made between you shouldn’t change anything now. At the end of the day, you were both only doing this out of responsibility. Satoru was trying his best to become a supportive co-parent to you, and that was all it ever would be. Strictly business – purely professional – as it always had been and always will be.

Foolish girl, you could hear a voice whisper at the back of your head, don’t get too lost in his eyes.

“Y/N, are you tired? Do you want to go home now? We can just order dinner to be delivered if you’re exhausted,” Satoru tugged at your sleeve to get your attention, and you chuckled awkwardly, not meaning to have spaced out the whole time. Worry was written all over his face from the way his brows dipped, stunning blue eyes darkening like the night sky you both made memories under.

Don’t look at me like that...

“Are you okay? Do you wanna go home?”

“Yeah,” you chirped far too brightly than you would’ve liked. Right now, it was more of a mission of fake it til you make it. You would just have to keep exerting the same amount of effort into making this work for the baby’s sake. And if that meant pushing aside any budding desire for this to last any longer to focus on your ‘friendship’, then you would do it. Taking Satoru’s hand for the first time since the baby ordeal, you flashed him a genuine smile. “The ferris wheel sounds nice. Let’s do some sightseeing before the night ends.”

Neither of you speak inside the cab. Beautiful the night was as the city shone into awakening illumination beneath you, comforting you with the thought that in the grand scheme of it all, you were small. Insignificant. That somehow everything you worried about wouldn’t matter when there was a much bigger world out there, and you were but a fickle dot in the middle of its entirety. But that was you, and Gojo lived in a much different world than you did. For somewhere in the city, you could recognize several of the sky towers, buildings, and establishments owned by his family. He mattered in the grand scheme; you were a small factor in his world.

Glancing back at the man who’d been silent the whole ride, you smiled upon seeing that he was doing the same. Satoru was practically bouncing in his seat as he snapped several photos of the city, mumbling something about he’d never seen this view before.

He was so innocent yet so out there, igniting within you an urge to take care of him and wanting to be taken care of by him.

You’d already accepted that you may just never have him that way. That small, fleeting crush was like a butterfly – pretty look at, but damn near impossible to catch. You’d already stopped crying yourself to sleep over the new changes brought about in your body, that in a few months’ time, you’d look back into everything and see that everything had changed. The mistakes you made that night were still something you regretted because you wished you could’ve done better, but seeing him right in front of you now, there was only gratefulness blooming within. Grateful that he was right by your side, grateful that at least the father of your child was more than capable of giving them a comfortable life, grateful that he didn’t push you away like you expected.

Acting more on impulse than logic, you leaned over to press your lips on his cheek.“Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you let your lips stay there for a few more seconds.

His skin was warm underneath your touch, and when you opened your eyes, Satoru was gazing up at you with stars twinkling in the vast galaxy he called his eyes. You smiled at his reaction, watching as he reached a palm out to caress that spot your lips had landed.“For what?”

“For everything,” you crumbled,“You’re not a bad person, Satoru, I know that,” with shuddered breaths, tears sprung at the back of your eyes again. “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I just need time to adjust to…well, all of this.” Your voice cracked at the last sentence and you were crying before you knew it, face hidden behind your palms in fear he’d look at you differently. In his eyes, you were always his stoic secretary who didn’t even bat an eye when people gave you backlash after Satoru hired you despite the lack of a college degree.

This all felt new – to cry, to trust, to rely on someone – and there was a flurry of emotions you couldn’t quite place yet.

Scooping you into his arms, Satoru patted your back as your cries grew louder. “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to rush into anything at all.”

In the harsh world of conglomerates where the laws of business blurred thinner and thinner with each day, it was hard to believe that not rushing into anything would be possible. It was always a flurry of hurried phone calls, frantic preparations for emergency meetings, anxiety over presenting new proposals and hoping that your superiors would sign your documents so you could go about your way. Time was as imperative as money was to them, but Satoru had proved he could be beyond that.

From the moment you met him, he never treated time as if it was something that slipped through his fingertips. He enjoyed every second he had of his life, and perhaps that was why you hated him so much in the first place.

You thought he took everything for granted, when in reality, all he did was bask in the little things life offered.

This much, at least, you trusted him with. If he said there would be no need to rush and you could both take it slow, he meant it. Around him, time felt more like a secret whisper than a treasure you both had to seize to protect. The night drifted off until it was already midnight and the crew was ushering all visitors out. You and Satoru made it home safely and quietly, hands linked together as if it was the most natural thing ever. No rush, you kept telling yourself, and you plopped down on the couch heavily as you let your muscles relax from such a long, eventful day.

You stayed there for a solid minute or so when you felt warm hands take your heels off. Opening your eyes, Satoru kneeled before you, his fingers expertly rubbing and pushing against the sore muscles of your feet. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Your feet must be tired from all that walking,” he mumbled, looking up briefly to meet your eyes and tease your shoulder back. “Lean back for me. I’ll take care of you.”

Judging by the sentiment behind his smile, you figured it wouldn’t be harmful to enjoy this at least once. You’ve never gotten foot massages before but his hands kneading yours felt heavenly. You knew from experience beforehand that Satoru was quite godly when it came to the skills and magic his fingers brought, though this one was on a different level, and you were sinking deeper into the couch from the bliss. He was right; you were tired, and if having your boss massage you like this every night after dragging you wherever he pleased, then you wouldn’t complain.

The ringing of your phone made you sit up abruptly, surprising Satoru whose head you almost knocked into. “Sorry,” you croaked out sheepishly, “It’s my dad. I need to take this.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“Uh, no, you’re fine.”

Satoru gestured to your foot as you took the call, mouthing, “Should I continue?”

“Yes, please,” you answered back, palm pressed over the mic before you answered. “Hey, Dad!” Your father greeted you back with much enthusiasm, his energy heard even by Satoru who sent you small smiles and curious glances every now and then. A part of you wanted to ask if he was fine kneeling on the floor like that, but his knees were on the fur carpet anyway that it shouldn’t hurt him. He extended your leg and trailed up your calves, pulling a soft moan from you when he kneaded the flesh and rid it of its knots. His ministrations distracted you until you were nodding absentmindedly to your Dad every now and then, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Then the call ended, and his last words kept ringing back into your head ominously. Satoru took quick notice of this as he tapped your knee, bringing your attention back to him. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I...” you started, helplessly fumbling around Satoru. “My dad is in Tokyo. He said he wants to have dinner with me.”

“You don’t look particularly happy about that. Do you not want to meet your father?”

“I do but...”

“But?”

“I have to tell him about this,” you shivered, refracting your legs back to the couch until his touch disappeared from your skin. For a moment, you had the urge to crawl back to his heat, but you were restless, agitated. “About us. He’s going to want to meet you and I don’t want to hide the pregnancy from him either,” Satoru remained unmoving as you rambled, and you hid your face behind your arms again as you remembered the rules you asked him to follow. “Listen, I’m sorry if I sound unfair right now, I know I said I didn’t want anyone else knowing—”

Warm lips brushed over your knuckles, large hands peeling your wrists to reveal your face. “Hey, it’s fine. He’s family and you can tell him. It’s not like your Dad would ruin your image or something like you expected to happen.”

“He won’t but...” you frowned, “My dad isn’t going to like this. I can’t guarantee he’ll be civil the whole time, especially towards you.”

“You told him about me?”

“A few years ago, yeah, when I still couldn’t tolerate you.”

“So you can tolerate me now?”

“Only a little bit,” you corrected, pushing his hands away as you opened your phone to check your schedule. It was mostly Satoru’s schedule, truth be told, but you were free for the most part tomorrow. Satoru could just longue back in his office while you clocked out early to meet your dad. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. On second thought, he doesn’t have to know at all. I’m only a few weeks in and it’s not like he’ll notice—”

“Y/N,” Satoru interrupted you, rudely snatching his phone from your shaking fingers. You would’ve scolded him had he not sounded so worried. “I did promise I would take responsibility for you, right? I want to meet your dad and introduce myself properly. As a father-to-be, I think I can somewhat understand that he might react strongly to this, but I also need to reassure him you’re in safe hands,” taking your hand in his, Satoru leaned into your palm, the smile he wore way too charming than what your heart could handle. “As long as you’re okay with it, I would like to meet him.”

“I’m sorry if he does something stupid.”

“Don’t be,” he reassured with a chuckle. “I’m sure everything will go well.”

It didn’t go well. Your father wasn’t throwing a fit or causing a scene like you originally feared, but the current situation wasn’t any better either. He looked like he was on the verge of tearing Satoru’s head apart, his grip on the bread knife so tight his knuckles flashed white. Your father was the literal definition of unpredictable and out of nervousness, you held Satoru’s hand under the table for comfort.

In complete opposition of yours, Satoru handled it with class and composure. His head was ducked down in respect, making sure to be curt and precise in counters to your father’s harsh accusations.

“I’m really sorry for everything, Sir.”

“Did you ruin my daughter’s life?”

Satoru finally tilted his head back up to look your father in the eye, both your hands turning cold and sweaty in between the seats. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you ruined my daughter’s life by getting her pregnant.”

“I would never intend for that to happen, Sir,” Satoru straightened up. From your perspective, he looked every bit the man parents would want their children to be with – handsome, elegant, educated, polite, respectful and well-off – but your father was no ordinary parent. He sized Satoru up like a predator hunting his prey even as the latter acted cool about it. “Granted, it was an accident and neither of us are prepared for this, but I promise I’ll take care of her. I take responsibility as the father and you have nothing to worry about.”

Your dad slammed his palms down on the table, the loud smack catching the attention of nearby tables. “How dare you tell me I have nothing to worry about?”

“Dad, please don’t do this.”

“No, he needs to know,” he snapped. Unable to help it, you groaned inwardly and scooted closer to Satoru, knowing where this was leading. “I lost her mother right after she was born; raised her by myself when I was barely out from high school. Rich men like you may never understand the struggles of taking care of a baby all by yourself, but I did everything I could to make sure she grew up well. My daughter had a happy, comfortable life. When she told me she wanted to follow her dreams in Tokyo, I supported her, and then you go take everything away from her because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? You dare defile her like that?”

“Dad!” you roared, clutching Satoru’s hand who’d gone limp. “It was equally my responsibility as it is his! I wanted this; we both got carried away but we’re doing our best, so please stop being difficult to us.”

“You wanted this?” he laughed dryly, “A child with this man you kept moaning to me about; the same man who went to clubs every night while he left you all by yourself to work, to clean up his mess from him? You wanted him?”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth, nails sinking down onto your thigh. Satoru remained silent between you both, although you could feel his burning gaze penetrating through the back of your skull. “It’s both our mistake. But this child...we don’t see it as that. We like to view it as a blessing. It may be true we harbour no affection for one another, but we want to be good parents. That’s all you need to know and I find no reason to explain myself to you. If you have nothing else to say, you can go back home. I’ll pay for your ride,” slamming down a few bills his way, you glared at your father, who shrunk back at the anger radiating off of you. “You’re not welcome here, Dad. Just go back home.”

“I’m just worried for you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I never said you were,” he sighed, rubbing the sides of his temples. “But he just took all your opportunities away from you! What about your dreams? What about your plan of having your own career once you have enough experience? What about—”

“Are you implying that because I’m pregnant, suddenly I’m not qualified to fulfil my goals?”

“Sir,” Satoru cut you off, releasing your hands as he leaned forwards on the table, becoming more and more like the CEO he was trained to be – all authority and gentle command that won the hearts of multiple investors. “I assure you that I won’t be holding your daughter back from the things she wants to achieve. As her co-parent, I’m perfectly capable of supporting her in the dreams she wishes to achieve. I’ve worked with her for years; I know she can reach for the stars if she wanted.”

Your mind blanked.

“Young man, don’t talk to me as if you know my daughter better than I do,” your father scorned, “I’m not questioning your capability to support her, but what about your credibility? How can you assure me you’ll really be there for her? How can you assure me you won’t leave my daughter stranded in the middle of nowhere? How can you assure me you can protect her from the harsh criticism of society? Money can’t provide nor does it solve anything,” your father copied his gesture by leaning forward, but it was to poke Satoru’s chest. “From what I’ve heard about you, I suppose you understand perfectly well why I don’t trust you.”

“Sir, I do plan on marrying your daughter and to give her the life she deserves,” Satoru confessed, effectively stealing from you the ability to speak as he glimpsed your way. “If she lets me.”

“You’ll marry her? Be faithful to her as your wife and have a family? Are you sure you can do that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m highly confident I can. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then that’s all I need to know,” your father leaned back in your seat, arms crossed against his chest and a stern expression on his face. “And if I find out you hurt or make my daughter cry in any way, I’ll beat up that pretty face of yours. I have two more sons that’re willing to do the same, if you don’t watch your actions.”

Satoru beamed at your father’s ‘approval.’ “I’ll face any consequence if I fall short on my duties, Sir, but I assure you, it will never have come to that.”

“So we’ve come to an agreement?”

The two men linked and shook hands across the table, completely disregarding the fact you were right beside him. You were beyond appalled, but mostly hurt that you’d been reduced to this way. And they were unaware of it, too, sickening and satisfied yet tense smiles were masked on their faces as they decided your future.

You stood up and left the restaurant.

You kept walking as fast as you could in the cold night, hands shoved into the coat of your pockets. Thousands of pin needles pricked at your heart and your skin the more you replayed the memory in your head. How stupid were you to think that Satoru would be different? And marriage? Was he serious? It all made you sick to the core to the point you wanted to throw up and disappear, until a heavy set of footsteps echoed behind you and tugged your wrist.

“Y/N, wait!” Satoru panted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong with you? You just up and left—”

“Seriously, Satoru, you’re asking me that?” your face fell flat at his cluelessness, “What’s wrong with you? You men are sickening; planning my entire future like that right in front of me as if I don’t have a say in what I want. None of you asked if I’m okay with this. You really went ahead deciding we’ll get married when I told you already, I don’t want to marry you and I never will!”

Satoru brushed a hand over his hair, a hand on his hip. You could tell his patience was being tested – after being verbally harassed by your father and now with you pushing back in the same heat, it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. Surprisingly enough, however, his voice remained levelled as he sighed. “What did you expect me to do back there? Tell your father that we’re just going to be roommates and raise a child together as if we’re not already family?” he defended, words slow and pronounced with a hint of hurt behind them. “I respect you and I truly do want to be with you, that’s why I wanted us to get married.”

“You respect me?” you laughed incredulously, “Are you hearing yourself right now? No person respects another by deciding what happens to my life without my consent!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, okay? I apologize for it and I acknowledge my mistake that I didn’t give you much of a choice. Me being cornered and pressured isn’t a good excuse, but I wasn’t lying when I said I want to take care of you and—”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to be with me?” you demanded, “Why do you want to take care of me so badly? How did you even take this so well? You weren’t even that angry when I told you I was pregnant.”

Satoru paled. “Was I supposed to be? Should I have pushed you away and kicked you out my life? Is that what you wanted me to do, or is that what you expected from me, considering you’ve made it extremely clear I’m nothing but your airheaded boss and a man who always wants his dick wet, right?” the sting of his words pricked you both – you with your guilt, and him with his pride crushed. But he didn’t let on, didn’t waver and didn’t match your anger as his chest shook with impatience. “I’m trying to be good to you; I want to be good for you and the baby because despite what you think of me, I’m not the devil the tabloids make me out to be. I sleep around, yeah, but I wouldn’t go so far to turn someone away especially when I know I’m supposed to be there.”

“Satoru, if you’re only doing this out of obligation, you can be a good father without marrying me. Marriage is not a requirement; I don’t care what people say that I got pregnant without getting married. That’s the least of my concern, I just want the baby to grow up healthy but I don’t want to be involved with you.”

With how stunned Satoru looked, one would’ve thought you slapped him right in the face. That mere sight of seeing your boss tear his walls down in front of you almost made you feel bad, but you had to be strong.

You had to be firm with what you stood for.

“I really don’t want to be with you, Satoru. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” his voice cracked, begging and pleading as he stood before you, looking every bit of a man lost in uncharted territory. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. One moment, you’re telling me you want me to be a good father, and then the next you’re pushing me away. People are so sure that I’m a man who can never settle down because they believe I have commitment issues, but I’m telling you I can commit to you right now,” he held your hand, rubbing some of his warmth at your comparably cold ones. You didn’t fail to notice that he was trembling, but what about what you couldn’t decipher. “Are you really sure I’m the one here who isn’t capable of that? What are you so scared of that you can’t trust me?”

“Because you’re you! Because you’re a fucking asshole who’s been treating me like I’m an overworking machine and always expects me to undo your shit for you! Because you make me sick and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t know what love means!” Exploded. You exploded. “I regret everything that happened between us that night. No, in fact, I regret ever meeting you at all.”

Satoru took a step back.

All the light and joy that fit so perfectly with him had now disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he demurred, “I’m sorry that I’d been so repulsive that you’ve felt miserable for all this time. I’m sorry I haven’t been a decent boss and I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

“Gojo, stop. Stop doing that; stop apologizing!”

“Then tell me what you want me to do,” he barked desperately. “Because I can’t read your mind and I just want to be good for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? I don’t want you to be good to me, I don’t want you to care about me. Be there for the baby, but don’t involve yourself too much in my personal life. Stop asking me to marry you because you and I would never work out. We’re impossible, okay?”

“How do you know we’ll never work out when we haven’t even tried?” he pushed, “You never even gave me a chance.”

“You’re not worth that chance.”

If someone could receive an award for effortlessly trampling over someone repeatedly, you would’ve been crowned winner a long time ago. You had no idea what came over you as you spat all those hurtful words to Satoru, but did your words bear no truth? The fact that he no longer defended himself meant he also knew that he wasn’t worth it – that he wasn’t someone to be trusted. It wasn’t that you were completely unfair too; of course you considered it. Weeks of living under the same roof as him and you most definitely considered it. Say you did get married and became a real family – what then? It wasn’t a marriage out of love, but rather out of responsibility and obligation.

As much as you loved your child, you couldn’t imagine throwing away your future and living miserable for the rest of your life like that.

A life built on lies wasn’t a life worth living.

“I would never hurt you.”

Your heart cracked. After everything you said, after all your efforts to keep him away from your own safety, after all the hurtful things you’ve done to him, and he was still apologizing? Why did he have to make it so hard to let go? You were tired, so tired that you could no longer refrain your lip from quivering as tears caked your face.

“Gojo, please, don’t—”

“So if me stepping away from your life is what would really make you happy, then I’ll respect it. But there’s one thing I have to ask,” Satoru swiped a thumb under your eye to catch the tear. His smile was forlorn, his touch cold and words melancholic. “Do you want the baby? Do you...want to keep the baby and be a mother? You don’t have to do anything for me, I just want to know if the mother of my child even wants to be one. And please be honest, because everything you say right now are words that I’ll mark seriously.”

The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

“No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want to be a mother,” you admitted, hands trailing over your belly. It felt like you were betraying your own child, but you hadn’t planned this. “I’m too young, Satoru, I-I’m not ready for this. With you there beside me or not, I really don’t want this.”

“Then,” he cleared his throat, turning his head to the side to catch a moment. You swore you saw his eyes shine under the city lights with tears, but it was gone so soon that you might’ve just fooled yourself with it. Once he deemed himself ready to talk, Satoru took a deep breath. “Do I have your consent that once the baby is born...it’ll be under my care? Would you prefer to reach your own dreams, then? You’ll never have to be a part of the Gojo family if it’s really not what you want, even though I could support you as much as you need me to.”

Your eyes widened at his proposition. “You’ll take care of our baby?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can I...can I visit them, at least, once in a while?” It was more than just your heart that broke that night. There was no telling whether you’d hurt yourself in the long run with this decision. It was no easy choice to make – to actively pursue your dreams somewhere else more than being a mother. You wanted to do your best, of course you did, but it wasn’t that easy. Gojo didn’t have to tell you for you to understand that once you married him, you’d be expected to run the business with him and be involved in his family and their dramas. Now that wasn’t a life you wanted.

“You’re free to visit them whenever,” he promised, voice fading even lower into the background. “So is this it? We’ll just be living under the same roof until the baby is born and once they’re here...”

“We’ll part ways.”

“We’ll part ways,” he nodded in agreement, sniffling for a brief second before fixing his tie. The Gojo Satoru you got to know for a few weeks had now disappeared. Not even the goofy boss you spent seven years with could be found in the coldness of his eyes, almost as if he’d put up such impenetrable walls around him and nothing could pass through. The sudden shift in aura made your heart clench as he offered his hand to shake. “Okay. Let’s stay professional until then?”

“Yeah, Sir, I can do that,” your hands shook as you enclosed it around his, but now all the warmth had disappeared – from his eyes, his touch, his soul. It hurt, but this was necessary. It was what felt right. “Thank you – for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for you and the baby,” Satoru proclaimed, perplexing you both when he suddenly pulled you in his arms. Just like that, the dam broke, and you were staining his precious suit before you could stop it. His arms rubbed up and down your back the longer he held you there, almost like a final moment to lean on one another before you had to say goodbye eventually. Beneath your palm, his heart beat exuberantly loud, so much so that you might’ve heard the prayers it whispered. “Stop crying now. The baby might feel sad too. We’ll both be alright – we just have to get through this.”

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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Uncle Ben and Little Luke

AKA we combine several types of time travel for maximum Soft Chaos, let’s go

EDIT NOW THAT I’VE WRITTEN THIS UP: jfc this ended up much angstier than initially intended uhhhhhhhhhh sorry

So a common enough thing I’ve seen in time travel fics is characters getting de-aged when tossed back physically, to neither the age they should be in that time, nor the age they were from the time they left, but whatever is most convenient. This is usually de-aging OT Obi-Wan into his TCW self, for reasons relating to, chiefly, removing the damage of Tatooine absolutely destroying his body alongside PTSD-driven alcoholism, but also because fic writers are horny, and Ewan McGregor playing a late-thirties negotiator is on average more appealing to people than Alec Guinness playing a vaguely feral desert hermit.

So, here’s how it plays out:

We take Luke and Ben from some point in the OT. There are a variety of options depending on how angsty we want it to be. My first instinct is ‘right after Owen and Beru die’ but I want to have that sweet angst where Luke knows that his dad is Vader and that Obi-Wan was trying to convince him to kill his own father without telling him that.

We’ll go with shortly after Bespin, and then they end up significantly before TPM. The Obi-Wan of the timeline proper is, eh, let’s say eighteen. Not really ready to be a knight, but old enough that we don’t have to worry about “if we go save Shmi, do we somehow wipe out Anakin?” which is absolutely a worry. Anakin is a toddler, and is in no place to be evil, on account of being literally two years old. He can’t even explode people with his brain yet.

Now, Ben finds himself mid-thirties, as is traditional. He’s not upset at this, because his joints hurt so much less than they used to! His knees aren’t exactly teenage-perfect, but by the Force are they better than they were in the years before he died! His hair has color! He doesn’t have arthritis! And, goodness, no physical withdrawal symptoms! The psychological aspect is still there, but nonetheless, he’s in much better shape than he last remembers being.

Luke looks like he’s about six. He was recently twenty-two. This is not an upgrade. Ben keeps having to carry him. He can’t see over the counter when they enter a bar for information. He can’t enter the bar in the first place. He’s very annoyed by all of this.

Ben is not annoyed. Ben is having a lot of emotions, actually, but annoyance isn’t one of them. He didn’t get to help raise Luke the way he might have if Anakin hadn’t lost his shit, okay, he sees a small Luke and he wants to hug him and cry.

Luke would like to be able to purchase a speeder part without the lady at the stall asking him if he needs his “dad’s” permission.

Once they figure out when and where they are, they need to decide where and how to leave. There are general shenanigans to gamble their way into enough money to hire a ship. They are in the ass end of nowhere, but definitely not Tatooine. There appears to be a jungle. There appears to be a significant variety of man-eating creatures. There appears to be a temple to the Force of questionable origin. None of this is actually helpful, except for the moment they find a “baby’s first lightsaber” in the temple.

Luke only has one hand and, being a six-year-old, his body is growing too fast for him to bother with getting a wired-in prosthesis the way he could as an adult. He can get a more basic prosthesis, but nothing that attaches to the neurons. He’ll outgrow it too fast.

He’s tiny and he’s not used to doing things with just one hand. He uses the Force to do what one hand can't, and every time someone tries to tell him he's misusing the Force he whaps them with the empty sleeve.

So, you know, they find out what year it is. Ben has a breakdown. Luke is upset that he left behind his friends. Ben admits to him that Leia was his twin. Luke stares in horror because dude, she kissed him, you couldn’t have mentioned this earlier???

Ben points out that Beru and Owen were keeping Luke away from him for nineteen years, and then they had about three days of awkward travel to find Leia in the first place, and then Ben died. He didn’t have a whole lot of time to figure out how to tell him.

(This sparks an argument that lasts several days. All onlookers assume that Ben’s son is throwing a tantrum. He doesn’t correct them, even though this is a very valid reason to be upset, because the truth is much harder to explain.)

Sooooo they travel. Mostly, Ben plays Sabacc, cleans house, and pays their way towards Coruscant. Luke still really wants to learn to be a Proper Jedi, even though Ben is pretty sure that Luke would have... a lot of difference of opinion with the Temple, but sure. Coruscant. They can at least stop by, and see Qui-Gon, and Mace, and Quinlan, and Bant, and everyone else that’s still alive and not tragically deceased in the horror following the start of the Clone Wars and then the birth of the Empire, and Ben can have a nice sob over all his dead friends being alive again.

Ben is only barely holding it together while Luke is in the room with him at any given point. But it’s fine! It’s fine. He’s fine. All of his loved ones have come back to life! It’s great! HE’S FINE.

He is not fine.

Luke is also grieving all the people who haven’t been born yet, but he’s... significantly more okay than Ben is.

The closer they get to the Core, the more often people just assume Ben is Luke’s father, and then look shocked and uncomfortable when Luke flatly calls him by his name, and they just... compromise. This is the point at which Luke starts calling him “Uncle Ben.”

Ben cries in his bunk later that night. Luke overhears it and wonders how the HELL Ben is more unstable now, when there’s a chance to fix things and no Vader or Empire trying to kill or capture both of them, and all his friends are alive.

(Luke will later learn a lot about PTSD and realize this is actually a fairly normal situation, to process significant events and emotions only after gaining safety or catharsis.)

(Twenty years on a ball of sand with an alcohol addiction and debilitating fear of the man you raised as your own brother is not, in fact, safe or cathartic.)

At any rate, they’ve settled into that pattern by the time they reach the Inner Rim. The Inner Rim is the part of the galaxy at which they’ve collected enough money (and mental stability) to travel a little better, and to take a few more risks.

Risks like “manipulate people with those baby blues.”

Ben tells Luke that he’s a menace, after he pouts so cutely that he gets a free scarf added on to a purchase that Ben makes. Luke responds that Ben has no room to talk, since he flirted a free breakfast out of that one inn owner.

Also, Luke is currently physically six. That is objectively a situation that sucks. He deserves to use it for all it’s worth if he’s stuck like this.

“You know, if you keep wearing all-black and looking longingly at the velvet cape and Space Chanel boots, the temple is going to worry that you’re a darksider.”

“Uncle Ben... you told me, yesterday, that I sparkle so brightly in the Force that it’s almost blinding.”

“Yes, but the gloves--”

They don’t agree on this, but Ben relents. He does actually understand good fashion, unfortunately, and he’s not unaware of how much Leia taught Luke about such things.

Luke’s about forty years ahead of the curve, of course, but Skywalkers are prone to such things. It’s usually in regards to technology, granted, but...

They get to Coruscant. Ben is very obviously a Jedi. He knows all the right words and walks like a Soresu master and feels warm and comforting in the Force. They let him in with minimal questions. They note down “my first padawan left the order to have a child, but died shortly after; I consider Luke here to be my nephew, and have raised him as such,” and move on.

Luke is vaguely annoyed because he already had an uncle (and aunt) that raised him, but he admits that a person can have more than one uncle. He can live with this. Ben was more family to Anakin than Owen was, in some ways, so it’s kind of true. Luke is even working on feeling more childish affection for Ben instead of the complicated mess of emotions that come from being lied to about some very large and important subjects, and then seeing the person saying those lies have regular emotional breakdowns due to something as small as Luke saying he likes the curve of the hull on that freighter.

(Apparently he sounds just like his father did as a child. This is almost heartwarming.)

The thing is! The thing. The thing is, they almost make it to the Halls of Healing to get looked over for weird viruses, or Outer Rim Parasites, or whatever the hells needs to be happening. They almost make it without Ben having a flashback to dead younglings or brainwashed troopers or the declaration of a Sith Empire. They almost make it without incident.

Then Ben sees Qui-Gon, and freezes, and does not move again.

Luke cannot get him to restart.

People are staring.

They haven’t even made it to Medical, Uncle Ben, come on.

Young, local Obi-Wan comes over and asks if there’s something he can do to help. Or maybe this “Ben” knows Qui-Gon? Master Jinn doesn’t recognize Ben, but maybe Luke knows more?

Luke does know more, but what Luke actually says is “he probably needs a mind healer.”

(Ben will not appreciate this.)

(Ben is unfortunately standing in the middle of the hallway and completely unresponsive, and is unable to argue with this assertion.)

(Ben is pretty much proving this assertion entirely correct, actually.)

Obi-Wan is helpful, if a little bitchy in the manner of most late-teens individuals, and offers to help get Uncle Ben down to the Halls of Healing. It involves Obi-Wan gently pushing on Ben’s shoulders, and Qui-Gon offering to carry Luke so he can be in Ben’s sights (because Ben is a Mystery, and Qui-Gon is quite fond of those, so he wants to stay involved). Ben kind of just... shuffles on down.

There are medical tests. They ask about how Luke lost his hand. He refuses to talk about it. They ask how Ben got all his scars. Luke says he doesn’t know. They ask if he knows why Ben looks like he’s been through a war. Luke says it’s because he probably was.

They check for foreign viruses. They find evidence of thus-far-unpatented vaccinations. They ask Luke if he knows what he’s vaccinated for.

“How would I know? I’m six.”

They agree that this is a good excuse.

(It is not. He’s lying. They do not know this.)

They do some more tests. They find a lot of questionable medical bullshit in Ben’s body. Most of this is from the clone wars, but they don’t know this. Someone realizes they haven’t gotten a ping back from the Shadow Network regarding “do we have permission to pull the medical file of a Jedi that isn’t in the normal database? We’re assuming you know who he is, since we don’t.”

The Shadow Network does not know who Ben is.

The healers, of course, go “huh, that’s weird, but maybe the name he gave his nephew was fake. We can’t exactly ask ‘Ben’ for more details right now. We already had to sedate him. Let’s check the DNA!”

The DNA pulls up as Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The padawan who brought this guy in two hours ago.

“Huh, that’s weird. Let’s call in Kenobi and ask if he knows what’s going on.”

Obi-Wan absolutely does not know what’s going on.

They ask Luke.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, lying through his teeth and not even pretending otherwise.

“You’re not a very good liar,” teenage Obi-Wan tells him.

“I’m not trying to be,” Luke says. “Can you get Master Yoda? I feel like we’re going to need him.”

They normally wouldn’t get Yoda on the request of a six-year-old, but they also normally don’t have a catatonic thirty-something Jedi who looks like he’s been through a war popping up in the medical database as the pimply teenage padawan that broke his pinky trying to do a Badass Ataru Flip last week.

Or... whatever Luke i... is... oh dear.

“Young one,” Qui-Gon asks, while people whisper-shout behind him, not realizing he’s cutting the Correlian Knot and just asking the kid himself. “Do you know why your midichlorian count is so high? It’s almost unheard of.”

“Uncle Ben said my dad was the Chosen One,” Luke says, because he is capable of being a little shit and is actually really eager to let Ben deal with some of the fallout. He feels for the man, really, but he’s also tired of being the one to field every single question.

Also, the expressions that pass on Qui-Gon’s face are hilarious.

(Luke may or may not be more affected by his six-year-old brain than he would like to admit.)

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon says, sounding more than a little strangled about it.

It takes another three hours for Ben to wake up.

He listens to the questions. He hears what they say his ‘nephew’ said. He looks at Luke.

“Is this revenge for not telling you about Leia?”

“It’s not revenge,” Luke does not lie. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s pretty easy to explain.”

“It’s not my secret.”

“This is revenge for the Leia thing.”

“No,” Luke says. “Revenge for the Leia thing was when I ate a live frog in front of you.”

This is the point at which someone interrupts and points out that they appear to be stalling.

“Oh, he is,” Luke tells them. He gestures at Ben. “I can’t tell you more, because it’s more his story than mine.”

“I’m afraid, Master, that I am very likely to have an emotional breakdown if I allow myself to consider the reality of this situation for longer than the fraction of a second I already have,” Ben reports, full of false cheer. “Suffice to say, I am far from stable and have only held out this far for Luke’s sake.”

“Can you explain why you have my DNA?” Obi-Wan asks, as the person who’s most concerningly involved in this situation.

“You can,” Ben says, smiling like there is absolutely nothing wrong in the slightest, ever. “I’m you, from the future. I actually died and spent a few years dead before coming back. I’m not sure why I’m younger than I was when I died, but I appreciate being able to put on my shoes without my knees attempting to mutiny.”

“He needs a mind healer,” Luke reiterates, in case the strained grin hasn’t made it clear. “So do I, but not as much.”

“I have felt literally every person in this Temple save for Luke and Yoda die,” Ben reports, looking a shade more manic than a few seconds earlier. “It’s very overwhelming to feel you all being alive again. I may be approaching a mental breakdown, and I’ve been rather strictly advised against using alcohol to treat my traumas again.”

Luke kicks him in the thigh. It’s not a very hard kick, because he is very small, and he does actually like Ben. “I’m not letting you turn into an old drunk again.”

After several seconds of silence, a healer quietly suggests that everyone clear the room, and asks if someone could fetch Master Yoda as the youngling requested.

(THIS IS ALMOST THREE THOUSAND WORDS. I started it less than two hours ago. Why am I like this.)

#Ben Kenobi #Obi Wan Kenobi #Luke Skywalker #Qui Gon Jinn #Time Travel #De Aging #Phoenix Posts #Uncle Ben and Little Luke

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ragnarachael · 3 years ago

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Out For Revenge: The Revengers Headlining Tour — Chapter One

Paring: Guitarist!Loki x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,350

Summary: Ever since that first gig at the pub, you've been following The Revengers—as well as getting closer with Loki, of course—and they've gotten big. Big enough to where they've landed a small recording deal and secured a headlining tour after their first album takes the rock scene by storm.

When Loki drops in at your job, as he does almost every day now, he invites you to the celebratory party for the big news. That same night, you and Loki further your growing relationship.

Warnings: helen and issac are best wingmen, 10/10. helen and issac roast u for being a shy babe so like. if u can’t handle roasts from friends,, maybe turn away? idk?

Notes: fic twoooooo! now, i am unsure when the next chapter will come out. i have most of the major bits written and am slowly adding to it, but i’ve been stumped and working like crazy and dealing with a lotta shit, in general. so. hopefully all your lovely comments will motivate me to actually work on it more and more!! also, we’ve just hit 2.1k???? holy shit??? thank you so much??????

Tag List (if you want to be tagged in stuff like this or any future works, join my taglist here!): @mushroomlupin @miniminwriting @mariahlaufeyson @lam-ila @a-lonely-gray-couch @sineads-art @rosaline-black @lokis-little-love @lokis-tigress @radicallyred

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Ever since that night at the pub, you’ve been making it to shows as often as you can, hanging out with Loki and the rest of his bandmates. Between going to the shows, working, and sleeping, you make time to glance at The Revengers instagram page after you’ve spent a decent time away from the Pub, work picking up in hours again.

And that’s how you learned that today is a big deal for The Revengers.

Over the course of a few months, after knowing them for what seems like years, they’ve finally booked a headlining tour. Sure, it’s starting small, not really going to many places around the area at first, but it’s still a headlining tour. You haven’t been able to stop buzzing while you’re working your morning shift at work.

They were lucky enough to have Tony Stark—the Tony Stark of Stark Industries, let it be known—prance right into Queen’s Pub and listen to them play before he was giving them a one-off recording deal for the album they’d finished and performed for their time slot that night. The album sold insanely well within the first two months of them being out in the world, and The Revengers were suddenly offered a small headlining tour around this general area.

You were told this on the Tuesday you came into Queen’s Pub for a drink—it had been a rough week and no one quite made your new favorite drink like Brian did, and he gushed all about it as you had a round or two. In such a small time frame of three months, The Revengers have basically made a name and home for themselves. And you couldn’t be more proud.

But, ironically enough, within those three—technically four, since going to see TR live, and your first not-date-date—you still haven’t had the time to let yourself come to terms that you’ve got a massive crush on their guitarist. Nor have you worked the courage up to give him your number, and you’ve been seeing this guy every Saturday, as well as nearly every day at your own job. Granted, you talk to him so much and see him so often you didn’t really see much of a point in giving the number to him. But, if Helen knew how you viewed this whole…thing, she would smack you upside the head and give Loki your number for you.

Loki’s been coming in more frequently by himself. He always did before, but now this was almost everyday just to sit and talk with you. At times he barely even ordered anything, he just kept you company with your conveniently timed breaks. Once you were starting to notice a pattern, you figured Lisa as well as the rest of your team are definitely working against you.

Or maybe with you. You wouldn’t know. You haven’t really dated anyone properly before—just a single person in an online, long distance relationship that never worked out—and here you are, mid-twenties, crushing on this smoking hot guitarist that you met through serving. You’ve known him for quite a few months, had quite the few not-date-date’s, and you still haven’t tried to make a move. You just had no idea how to.

“Hey!” you greet him cheerfully as he sits at his normal booth. “The usual?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, yes please,” Loki replies, smiling at you as his hands play with a few of the rings on his fingers, and you try not to let your mind twist and turn to see just what else they could be doing in certain places right now. “Did you hear the news?”

“What news?” you question. You feel like you’re faking being innocent as you’re writing down his order on your server’s pad, trying not to give yourself away knowing that his band is starting to get in the big leagues.

“The Revengers news. C’mon,” Loki teases smoothly, falling back against the backrest of the booth. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been keeping tabs!”

“I’ve been working to meet rent!” you reply, giggling breathlessly as you pause to look up at him from your pad. “Some days I can barely breathe properly, Loki.”

What you’re telling him isn’t particularly wrong, however, he always ends up finding you after their gigs and chastises you for coming on a work night as you both end up with a few drinks in your systems. You chalk all of that up to Brian, since the bastard keeps you with stories of his early years. If he didn’t keep you talking about his band and his tour days, Loki wouldn’t have seen you at the shows.

Come to think of it, maybe you should thank Brian.

You take this moment as he shakes his head at your reply to see his attire for the day. He’s wearing a tight black shirt, and there’s a jacket tossed next to him. How does he make a jacket piled next to him look so neat? Good lord—

He sighs dramatically, sitting up straight again. “The Revengers have officially booked a headlining tour with Stark Studios.”

You immediately snap out of your...haze and address the good news as if you didn’t see most of what he just told you this morning on their Instagram account.

“Holy shit,” you breathe. “That’s so sick! Congratulations!”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Loki bashfully replies. You duck back behind your pad to finish writing his order before quickly reading it back to him, trying to avoid having him see your growing reaction to his words. Maybe one day here soon you’d tell him Brian’s told you everything about their deal. But not today.

Once you’ve made sure his order is right, you take a second to converse a little more about the day and the new deal TR’s just landed before you’re off to go put in the small order slip. Helen gives you a gentle bump with a smile when she notices you, and you greet her after shouting to get Evan’s attention.

The day stays calm for a while, you get Loki’s food in almost a record time, you and Helen crack jokes while you both slack off a bit to talk with Loki until Lisa is playfully chastising you and shooing you all off to go and do your jobs before talking to Loki herself.

And that’s when rush decided to kick up, of course.

The lunch rush is an hour and a half early, which you don’t understand—you never understand why the rushes happen like this. You’re running around as if your head’s been cut off, taking orders what feels like every five seconds while also checking on your other guests when you’re walking by.

And unfortunately, you can’t pay attention to Loki.

You miss seeing him out. You’re wishing you could have just had one last round of conversation with him so he could end up trying to forcefully shove your usual cash tip in the tip pocket of your apron for the second time this week. It really shouldn’t make you as sad as it does, knowing that you missed him like this. You’re chanting inside your head that he’s just a friend at this point, nothing more. A friend with a slowly rising and successful band.

If you think too hard about it you may not be able to wrap your head around it.

Just as you swing back into the kitchen to collect another order, Helen is calling your name.

“What!” you shout. “I’m busy!”

“No duh! We’re all busy,” she quips dramatically, smoothly taking over what you’re doing. “Check your boy toy’s table. Now. Shoo.”

You give Helen a look as she gives you a final shove before you’re turning out of the kitchen, walking through some of the booths to see Loki’s table.

His dishes were stacked like they usually were, and his receipt was covering some cash. You knew that was your tip, which made your face heat up slightly. You always made a point to never count it out until you were home, considering it was usually a few tens and twenties. You sigh, reaching for the receipt and sliding it to you over the table top, only to catch the colorful ink from one of your pens you gave Loki to sign his bill on the back of the receipt paper.

You’re careful to flip it over, trying to ignore the cash tip.

I know it’s super short notice, but we’re having a celebration for The Revengers tonight. Text me if you want to come? Loki xx

Oh. Oh shit.

It’s a real number, too. Not like anything you’ve been given prior as a joke. It feels like it’s been a little too long since you’ve been staring at the receipt paper and ignoring the cash tip, and you’re quick to just fold it all together to pocket it in your work apron and clear off the table of the booth.

You have Loki Odinson’s phone number. You. It absolutely feels like you’re dreaming. You also find yourself laughing, just a little bit. After how many of TR’s shows you two talk at, how many not-date-dates at the pub, you finally have his number. Albeit, entirely under the circumstance of figuring out a party address.

But hey, getting a number is getting a number, right?

As you carry the dishes to the back of the house, you mentally start crafting your text to Loki. What the hell would you even say?

Hey! Thanks for the tip!

No. Nope. That’s weird.

We FINALLY remembered to swap numbers!

No. You didn’t do shit on your end. He was the one that did. Maybe just tell him it’s you, and you’d love to go? Maybe ask if there’s a dress code, or a BYOB situation going on—

“So,” Helen asks excitedly. “What did he write?”

“You noticed he wrote something?” You question over some of the clashing noises of your coworkers.

“Who else in this hell hole has a green pen? Of course I saw he wrote something!”

You sigh, smiling to yourself before you’re passing dishes to another coworker that has a bigger pile than yourself, trying to stay out of people’s way. “There’s a party for TR tonight.”

Helen gasps, nearly throwing her serving tray with another round of food over her shoulder.

“No way. And you’re invited.”

“Well, obviously—“

“That’s so exciting! Oh my fucking god—“

“Language, Vawn!” Issac shouts dramatically, coming in with his tray in hand as he hangs another ticket in the serving window for Evan and the rest of his team. “Get out there with the food, we can scream about this after we close up!”

“Issac!” You exclaim, whining the last part of his name slightly. “Shut up!”

“I will when you will.”

Issac’s out before you can huff and puff more. Helen sighs and pats you on the shoulder before following suit.

Once you’re alone in the back of house, Evan calling orders again after what feels like you’ve been shoved into a movie that’s just been put on pause, you’re back shifting into work mode.

You can feel your blush rising to your cheeks as you start looking at the food, piling it onto a new tray to carry out as you just think of what all of this means for you and Loki’s relationship. Tonight could possibly mean getting out of the weird grey area you’re in, and move forward to the dating range.

As scared as you are, you’ve never been more ready for something in your life. All this flirting and seeing him almost every Saturday has you losing your god damn mind. Your subconscious hasn’t helped either, most of your dreams involving you and Loki in some romantic scenario.

“Yeah, it’s about time,” you mutter aloud, quickly moving around everyone in the back to get out on the floor and drop off the platter full of food.

The rush lasts a little longer than it should. Hell, the rest of the day lasts longer than it should. All you can think about is Loki and his number on the receipt that is neatly tucked near your small pen supply in your apron.

Thankfully, perhaps even mercifully, the restaurant finally closes for the night after your last table. It was a group of teenagers and they were honestly hilarious, until it came to the form of payment which gave everyone a headache trying to figure it out.

“Is it just me or is he getting hotter?” Helen asks as the two of you start cleaning tables and putting chairs up. You squint slightly at the hardwood of the table you’re cleaning before looking up and over and your friend.

“Who?”

“Loki, you idiot,” she hisses back, foot gently kicking at you from the side she’s working on. You laugh, scooting deeper into the booth you’re cleaning so she can’t swipe at you again.

“Well, in my personal opinion, he’s always been hot.”

“Mhm, I know,” Helen replies smugly. “Did you figure out what to text him? Have you even texted him?”

You take a breath and do a quick sweep with your wet rag on the booth’s table top. “No. I don’t know. I keep making it awkward in my head, so like—“

“Oh my god.” Helen throws her head back and groans, finishing her table. “Give me your phone, we’re crafting one right now.”

“What?!” You exclaim, still sitting in the booth. “Helen, we still have to close—“

“Shut up and give her the phone!” Isaac shouts from the back. “Lisa said you can leave early, just do it! He’ll reply fast as hell if he’s into you!”

You whine loudly and fall back into the seat you’re kneeling on. Helen slides into the seat across from you, holding her hands out and wiggling her fingers. “C’mon babe, just give in.”

“You’re all terrible.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Worst coworkers I could have ever asked for. How dare you?” You’re speaking as you pull your phone from your back pocket and sliding it over to Helen who immediately punches your passcode in. “I should change that.”

“You’d give it to me again anyways,” Helen replies instantly. “Have you put the number in yet? Or do I need to do it too?”

“I can do that,” you huff, getting slightly defensive. “Just don’t know what to say. I can do the rest, Hel.”

“From the looks of it, you can’t. Scoot over,” Isaac says again, closer to you now. You jump slightly before sighing and moving to let him in. It’s silent among the three of you before your brain catches up with what Issac said.

“Wait, hold on. Lisa said I can leave earlier? You told Lisa about this—”

“Yeah,” he replies instantly, cutting you off as if it was obvious information to share. “We can hold it down without you too, by the way. Literally Helen and I will survive while you go get some—“

“Isaac! It’s not like she’s going to get railed—“

“The text!” you exclaim. “Figure out the text first, try to pry my other personal details out of me later.”

Issac and Helen laugh before all attention is directed to your phone. You still can’t believe Issac told your boss you got Loki’s number. You utter a few curse words under your breath before Helen is humming in thought.

“Okay,” Helen begins finally. “how’s about you just have a simple ‘hey! I’d love to come to the party!! Just drop the address and I’ll be there ASAP.’” Helen waves your phone around as she speaks. “Sound nice?”

“Mm,” Isaac replies. “I think you could spice it up.”

“How the fuck can you spice up accepting a party invite?” You question, deciding to finally toss your rag in front of you. “I think that’s just fine.”

“I think you should be flirty about it.”

Helen blinks over at Issac. “Literally, we have to make it believable, not like I’m texting him.”

Silence falls over the three of you before Isaac groans. “Fuck. You’re right.”

“Is this a roast?” You question between your friends. “I think this is a roast. First you tell Lisa—”

“Of course it is! You wouldn’t flirt right out the gate. You’d probably send the text that I just said aloud.” Helen is typing on your phone as she finishes speaking. “I’ll write it out, see what you think. Then tweak how you want and send it. Okay?”

“Okay,” you reply with a small pout. “Sometimes I can be flirty—“

“No, no I doubt it. In person?” Isaac questions as he turns to look at you in your shared seat. “Yeah, maybe. Over text? You’d back out after typing it.”

You blink, looking at Isaac as Helen hums, nails tapping against your screen.

“You guys are really coming for my throat, huh?”

“We speak only the truth,” Helen says softly before passing the phone to you. “See if you like. Tweak what you don’t, yeah? We’ll be cleaning.”

You take your phone back as Helen grabs your rag and tosses it at Isaac, the both of you trying not to laugh as the rag almost hits Isaac in the face. You laugh to yourself as they go back to doing your closing tasks before you look down at your phone screen to read the text Helen crafted.

Hey! Sorry for getting back to you so late, I’d love to come to the party tonight. Just text me the address and I’ll get there as soon as I can!!

You read through the text several times. Helen really has you pegged, and you aren’t mad about it at all. Your free hand fishes into your apron’s pocket to find the receipt that Loki wrote his number down on, placing it on the table—writing up so you can read the number off and put in your phone.

You take one last breath, Loki’s number in the contact bar, and your message ready to be sent.

You can do this.

After a few more calming breaths, you press the send button, making sure the text delivers all the way before you busy yourself on your phone to properly add Loki’s contact. You lock your phone and smile widely to yourself as you start to slide out of the booth.

Hopefully, Loki replies sometime soon and you can skip out closing up with Helen and Isaac. You’re not sure if you could focus on closing while you wait for a text back.

And you’re thankful Loki seems to get that message. By the time you’re in the back to actually help closing up, you check your phone one last time before you can see two texts on your home screen. You’re quick to unlock your phone and read them before running out.

Hey! It’s all good! Here’s the address, just get here whenever you can, sweetheart. Brunn plans on dragging it out tonight

Be sure to wear something comfortable, btw. I don’t think there’ll be enough room to sit around 😅

You’re not holding back the giddy smile that’s rushing onto your face as you reread the texts Loki’s sent before you’re speeding to the locker room to grab your bag.

“Did he text?!” Helen shouts from the kitchen window, Evan grunting from the noise. “He must’ve!”

“He did!” You exclaim, bag slung over your shoulder as you type back on your phone. “I’m gonna dash. Tell Lisa I said thank you!”

“Yes!” Helen cheers loudly, throwing her hands up in the air in the kitchen.

“Could ya tone it down, Helen?” Evan huffs. You don’t catch the rest of the interaction before you’re waving goodbye to Issac. On your way out you actually find Lisa yourself, shouting over to her with a thank you and telling her to have a good night.

Lisa simply shouts a you’re welcome, hun! back, and gives you two thumbs up with a wide smile before you’re headed out into the night to your car to rush home and put on better clothes.

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