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tundrainafrica · 4 years

Note

So I see your a LeviHan shipper!! I enjoy the ship a lot too!! But are there any specific reason that their your favorite?? Maybe you could explain that a little through a list? But anyways I hope your week has been good so far, Sav. Have a good day/night!!!! - Signed by Your Secret Santa 🎄

Hello! Thank you for asking about my week (and my ship).

I enjoy the ship a lot too!! But are there any specific reason that their your favorite?

To answer that first question...

You’re in for a long rollercoaster ride of a rant because I don’t think I’m the type of person to ship anything to the point of writing domestic fluff fics unless the I felt really really drawn to the ship.

Anyway, (slight) spoilers abound! Will keep manga spoilers subtle, mostly Levihan scenes.

Disclaimer: I do not want to start shipping wars. I specifically avoided the words like should or best because I recognize that shipping is generally based on preferences. I respect everyone’s preferences on what they want out of a ship or even a relationship and through this, I just hope to express my own preferences and maybe even gush with people who agree.

1. The ship did not move the plot. The plot moved the ship.

Attack on Titan is not a romance or a shojo, if it’s not fairly obvious from any chapter you would randomly read. As a reader, I would have expected it to fall short with pairings. Most shows which are not romance based tend to have a few pairings which just suddenly end up together towards the end of the manga because “What’s a happy ending without marriage and kids?” There is usually a trend of just pairing of the extras and sometimes, or maybe even more often than not, it just seems to come out of nowhere (ehem... Naruto.). Maybe the relationship worked off screen but I dunno. Like no shipping war here but the only pairing I had full support for was Shikatema.

In stories classified as romances, there is enough of a spotlight on the sexual tension and mutual pining of specific characters for the romance to be considered reasonable. In my opinion, some authors tend to sacrifice really good world building for a good romance. Objectively twilight for example had some crazy good world building but it just kinda focused a little too much on emo Bella and emo Edward for the world building to actually be appreciated by the casual reader. Tbh though, this is not necessarily bad because people get into stuff for reasons, sometimes, I just wanna read a good fantasy, sometimes I just wanna read a good romance.

Romances though as a main driving point for narratives, require some convenient serendipity moments and sexual tension which can be written well but as a reader, I prefer to see more natural relationships born out of necessity (Wall of Winnipeg and Me by Mariana Zapata is a good example of what I’m talking about in a romance novel.)

Attack on Titan through its narrative actually made Levihan seem VERY VERY possible. If I had to compare the presentation of this ship in canon to at least one relationship in other anime, I would compare it to Royai from FMA.

Like, if Attack on Titan didn’t give us random subtle hints about romantic or just platonic relationships between the two or even about anyone, even if Levi and Hange did get together in the end, it would have been one of the pairings, I probably wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow at.

But they could be just friends? Which brings me to my next point.

2. Their current situation makes it so it’s only natural that at the least, they considered it.

Yes. Friends is a valid interpretation for anything. I mean, given our hook up culture, people can fuck as friends too. People probably have made out drunk as friends too. Like I have seen my fair share of this type of bullshit in high school and college and I would say, we do not need a kiss or a fucking session to recognize that something can be a good relationship or to recognize that they have probably thought about it.

A relationship requires a commitment (conscious or unconscious) to caring for the other, keeping the other safe, recognizing their flaws and thinking about them regularly (Call me scott peck or marriage counselor but like I honestly think the world would be a better place once people recognize that quality romantic relationships are worked for).

Mind you, Levi and Hange lost everything.They literally lost everything from their old life, all their friends, all their loved ones and all they have is each other and they’re forced to take care of a bunch of kids.

There are people who have said before, no one gets very close with someone without ever considering a romantic relationship with them. Or even if they never considered it romantic, they could consider at least “living with them their whole life,” or “supporting them through thick and thin.” The things is, towards the end, they were constantly together and what drove them to that situation is that both of them are aware of what the other had lost. They understood each other more than anyone else and they recognized that they were the only ones left in their own circle and I personally think that is more than enough for a relationship to naturally bloom between them.

3. The relationship and the signs are subtle and it works.

I personally probably would not have enjoyed it if canon showed a romantic relationship of the two after Erwin died. It’s a valid interpretation to consider that it could have happened, based on my explanation for number 2 but Hange is commander, Levi is captain. They have a professional relationship and they have goals and obligations which take precedence over personal desires. They are in the middle of a war and the most which probably could have happened was a secret mutual pining between the two and I think Isayama has injected the most subtle hints which are the most that could have been appropriately put into canon without seeming too OOC. Hange and Levi are not selfish people. They have promises, dreams and obligations which they respect and have committed themselves to already. It has also been shown at earlier points of the manga that they do put their survey corps duties on top of everything so acting on a romantic attraction at that point in time would have definitely been inappropriate.

I personally think, the scenes of Hange going out of her way to save Levi as commander, killing her other soldiers to save both their asses, suggesting in the forest that they live together instead of go back to the war and not leaving an injured Levi until she had no choice were more powerful than a lot of romantic scenes where people actually fuck and kiss. Kissing and fucking are easy. Leaving the duties and responsibilities they have worked for for five years to keep the person they love alive hits way harder.

Call it platonic. Call it romantic. But no one like Hange would have deserted her post as commander for a few chapters to take care of a sick comrade and kill her subordinates to save their asses if there wasn’t anything between them.

4. It gives a great example what healthy relationships can come from.

I grew up reading sweet valley and chick lits cause I was a basic bitch and I kinda grew up with a somehow unrealistic idea of where relationships come from. Call me a late bloomer but I only actually figured out where the romance and the happiness of a relationship was when I got into one with my best friend for five years.

It’s the sexual tension and the “will they wont they?” push and pull which can lead to satisfying sex or a happy ending in romance novels. I think in a way, media kinda overglorifies it which kinda gives a lot of young people the wrong idea about why they getting into a relationship is fun in the first place. Because after the satisfying sex and the kids, what’s next for the relationship?

Years of utility bills, diapers, chores, schedules, parent teacher conferences and compromises until someone gives up or dies. And what kind of relationships can actually thrive through all these?

Those that have mastered the underrated parts of relationships. These include conflict resolutions, compromises and open communication. I think we have seen enough of those two, even before season 3 that have shown that they know each other very well and they have shown to at least have a relatively equal power dynamic which is a foundation for open communication and mutual trust in relationships even beyond the fucking and marriage stage

5. They have a great foundation of character development for both parties.

As I mentioned above, they have a relatively equal power dynamic. I love Royai from FMA and I have compared Royai to this multiple times. I would say though I prefer Levihan over Royai because I felt that Royai had more unequal power dynamics? (Though I still think Royai is a top tier ship ). Also, they have shown to tell off the other when they don’t like what the other is doing. They are complete opposites but here is the magical thing. They talk everything out. They’re generally open people to each other and they know each other way too well as hinted in scenes before and opposites work as long as the others are willing to compromise. I think (especially in season 3 and season 4) that they have done enough for each other and have compromised enough for each other in the survey corps that these skills could easily be brought with them even after the war.

That open communication is just what makes them maintaining a relationship while being complete opposites very OC and realistic. Eventually, they did probably did make compromises, which most likely softened or moderated the crazy parts of their personalities which is just a really fun part of their relationship to explore.

6. It could realistically last so maybe ...

7. A good foundation for happy children?

Maybe it’s how it is written because of the actual story and why would Yams write a romantic drama in a story about genocide and war. Tbh, I would attribute it more to Levi and Hange’s personalities though because Mikasa and Eren have their fair share of drama, mostly one sided though coz Mikasa. This relationship has no drama, no misunderstandings which just further supports my point that they have a relationship that thrives on open communication and mutual trust. Drama is fun like when we’re the ones on the sidelines eating the popcorn but I have third wheeled enough people in my life to realize that I will not support a relationship where both parties are just not ready to be mature about it, in real life and in fiction.

My favorite couples, in real life and in fiction, are definitely those who keep conflict among themselves and maybe among trusted people. I think one sign of a healthy relationship is one where problems don’t become public through social media or through like 20 people. One important yet underrated part of relationships is the atmosphere of comfort and freedom which encourages both parties to be able to directly approach one another before tensions and uncertainties get out of hand.

And a life free of dramas at least in the early stages of life just kinda shows at least that both parties are ready to bring a new life to the world? Because like immature parents with shitty conflict resolution skills really fuck kids up man and I passionately believe the world would really be a better place if babies were born out of trust, mutual understanding and open communication instead of sex but yeah, make sex fun to keep our race alive.

So anyway, I guess, I just finished explaining why I love this ship so much while also disclosing my preferences for relationships.

As mentioned above...

Other pairings which I support for those curious: Shikatema, Royai, Victuuri, Percabeth etc.

Also... To answer your second question...

My week has been great, some pretty solid life developments but US elections wise, not so great... (WHY IS THE ELECTION RACE SO CLOSE?)

#levihan #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levi ackerman #hange zoe #ship #analysis

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patchesthegothictramp · 4 years

Text

Feather Seeker and the Okinawa Jail

So anyone who’s been talking to me knows Feather Seeker is a game that’s perked my interest from the get-go, and I’ve been thinking of talking about it for a while. Now that I’ve been able to replay Royal and play Strikers, some other things have come out in the meantime and I’ve been paying more attention to additional media, I want to make a meta post about Feather Seeker, the Okinawa jail from Strikers and it’s connection to Akechi specifically. Be warned, this ended up being a very long post.

Let’s start with just getting a few questions out of the way:

Isn’t it just a mini game made to raise your stats?

Yes, absolutely, it’s optional and honestly if you don’t care for playing the video games it’s easy to miss. I don’t think it was honestly intended to be some massive breakthrough on a character’s backstory but rather an Easter egg that gets you to think about it.

It’s just about Neo-Featherman, there’s references to it in all persona games, so why is this one different?

It’s not different. There’s been plenty of times when Easter eggs have led to something bigger in this game, even specifically featherman ones. There’s an episode of Featherman that describes exactly what happens in the 3rd semester, where a character loves another so strongly it brings them back to life. Now whether you want to apply that to Futaba and her mum, Ren and Akechi or whoever it still fits- there’s an entire semester where at least one character loves another one and wishes them back to life through Maruki’s power. So having another piece of media, like the Feather Seeker game, be another allusion to something else isn’t entirely unjustified.

Feather Seeker is just detailed cos it’s about Featherman, why are you comparing it to other games?

See, here’s the thing and why I needed a second playthrough to make sure I was right about it. Feather Seeker is the odd one out. All of the games have some kind of plot or something going on (except for Golf sim but y’know... it’s a golf sim), but they’re all very, very basic things. Train of Life is just board game with very simple characters, the Goemon game has you just walking through hell but doesn’t really go more in depth with characterisation. Whereas you find out so much about what’s going on with Gray Pigeon and Osagiri in Feather Seeker that it feels a little… weird to simply ignore it. Do I think that the simplest answer, that they just wanted some plot in there for fun, is the right answer? Honestly I think that’s highly likely. But it’s the boring explanation too, it’s easy enough to just write any kind of intrigue like that, so whether what I’m writing about was intentional or not, I still want to discuss Feather Seeker and see people’s own thoughts on the possibility that it could be more than just a basic game.

So with that out of the way… let’s get into it.

First, there’s establishing who’s who. I can pretty confidently say that Gray Pigeon is Akechi in this entire metaphor. This one is the most obvious for multiple reasons, first of which being that it’s the exact same costume Akechi gets in the featherman outfits DLC so there’s the direct correlation there. Beyond that, Gray Pigeon is a character who awakens to a new power and wants to become a hero of justice, just like the feathermen, the hero’s he’s heard about before. Ring any bells?

Also the final revelation of Feather Seeker is that actually the Feathermen see Gray Pigeon as their enemy, who ends up sacrificing himself so they can keep fighting.

Which brings me to discussing who Osagiri and the Feathermen are. Given the timeline presented, I don’t think it’s possible for them to be one specific character or even group of characters. I think these aren’t supposed to be characters, but rather the major influences in Akechi’s life. Osagiri is a scientist (possibly Wakaba, I’ll get into that later), but also the one who pushes him to do bad things. Osagiri starts by training Gray Pigeon to become one of the Feathermen, the good guys, but eventually ends up manipulating Gray Pigeon into trying to kill them. Osaigir at the bare minimum has to be two people- the cognitive scientists who were able to uncover more thanks to Akechi’s escapades in the metaverse and the people who pushed him to commit crimes- the conspiracy.

The Feathermen, at the end of the game, have to be the Phantom Thieves- they’re the ones Gray Pigeon/Akechi ends up sacrificing himself to save but… that can’t be possible. Gray Pigeon’s journey starts with him gaining a new power and wanting to use it for good like the Feathermen do and of course the Phantom Thieves weren’t an inspiration for Akechi to do what he did. I think then the Feathermen are what Akechi aspired to be- the heroes of justice who fought the bad guys.

I can’t lead myself to believe that at 15, Akechi thought of this overly convoluted plan where he would help Shido to become prime minister only to then ruin him, there’s way too many factors in this that could change. I think originally Akechi wanted to avenge what happened to him and his mother, make sure that the man who wronged him would face justice. That’s what the Feathermen would do, right? They fight bad guys. Translating it from Feather Seeker, Akechi was angry, furious even and that rebellion woke hm up to Robin Hood, the embodiment of justice for him.

There’s plenty things that point to Robin Hood being first, his placement when Akechi awakens to Hereward on 2/2 being in the same spot as everyone else’s, the fact that for all of the other Thieves their third tier personas are different versions of their initials personas and that applies to Hereward/Robin Hood and that the trend of initial/second awakening personas is that the first is a fictional who was considered a criminal (Robin Hood) and the second is described in game as a ‘mythological trickster’ (Loki).

Here is where I want to get to the Okinawa jail and why I didn’t post this theory/metapost sooner.

I mentioned earlier that Osagiri could have been in some part Wakaba, Futaba’s mother, and when I initially wrote this I didn’t have all that much to go off of. There’s concept art in the original p5 artbook of Wakaba experimenting on someone. There’s no context given and it’s sort of the odd-one-out. Of course, human subjects would have been necessary to study the cognitive world but this research is so under wraps it seems it’s almost impossible to get. There’s no military connotations anywhere so why is it such a secret? Well, illegal human experimentation would certainly be a good reason to keep this away from the public. They must have figured out somehow that killing a shadow can cause a lot of damage, even death, to a person, we know that from the research notes, but Wakaba was a scientist, working in a lab, she must’ve done experiments that weren’t entirely legal.

Here I wasn’t sure because accusing Wakaba or anyone of illegal human experimentation was a pretty big reach but the Okinawa jail in Strikers shows us that illegal human experimentation is something that was used for cognitive research. I don’t think that Akechi was experimented on there or that was where Wakaba worked, there’s no indication of it but… Konoe and Owada seemed to build on the work that Shido and his scientists began. That being said, I think the Okinawa lab is a continuation of that human experimentation, with whatever lab Wakaba worked in being its predecessor before Shido probably shut it down to prevent it from ever being discovered. Which is also why he had Wakaba killed- the research was only meant for him and no one else.

Beyond what we see in Feather Seeker of Osagiri/sometimes Wakaba experimenting on Gray Pigeon/Akechi, we’re also told (albeit this is of course biased information), that he only targeted people he deemed deserved it but… Wakaba is the odd one out here for the most part. Okumura was hardly a good person and the principal decided covered for a sexual abuser, most of the others were survivors except for accidents which are mostly uncontrollable and unpredictable. Wakaba however, like Kobayakawa and Okumura, were targets that were supposed to die, Akechi intended to kill them. How then was Wakaba a bad person? Illegal human experimentation would explain that, especially if it was done on Akechi himself.

So then, Akechi was experimented on by Wakaba. I don’t think he was fully informed about what he was doing either. Gray Pigeon certainly wasn’t. Akechi was still trying to be a good person, using his power for his own vengeance yeah but I don’t think murdering random people was part of his initial plan at all. I think that Feather Seeker also emphasises just how little he knew about what his actions were doing. How would he know what his effects of shadows are on the real world? He could only know that from the scientists, from Shido. Of course he did find out, eventually, and that rage he must have felt about being used and lied to gave him the power to awaken to Loki, as Futaba puts it, the representation of his anger. It’s only then that he forms his plan, to get back at Shido for all of this, not just him abandoning him and his mother but for using him for his own means as well.

And we know how the rest of the story goes.

The overall story presented in Feather Seeker, as I see it, is this: Akechi awakens to Robin Hood, and realises that his anger is no longer a hopeless endeavour, he can use it, show that he’s useful and get acknowledged by his father. Shido sees this, sees that he can use this power and subjects him to experimentation, as someone who can actually survive the cognitive world and even have an impact on it. Wakaba sees what he can do, tests him but he’s never told what he’s done. He’s manipulated through praise and lack of information. One day he does find out, he realises this wasn’t getting him any closer to vengeance or getting acknowledged by Shido, he’s just another test subject being used by them. He’s angry, he awakens to Loki and now with the unique power of psychotic breakdowns, Shido recognises him and hires him as his assassin.

Granted this is all just my own theory, I think there is a lot pointing us to at least something similar but of course I also think this is wishful thinking as well. At this moment, my biggest wish is that Atlus makes a game that actually delves into what happened to Akechi. All the explicit information we have is given to us from biased sources, ie. Akechi himself, and it’s really the only question I have left for persona 5’s continuity.

#p5r spoilers #p5s spoilers #p5r #p5s #akechi goro #goro akechi #metapost #theory #p5a #proof of justice #persona 5 #persona 5 strikers #persona 5 royal

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puckinghell · 4 years

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“Don’t you dare touch her” + petey pls?? I need some protective petey in my life

Say no more!

---

You can feel Elias’ gaze on you all the way across the bar.

You’ve not got much experience, being on the receiving end of a patented Elias Pettersson death glare. He saves that look for media and dumb questions mostly, sometimes for Brock or Jake when they say something stupid. But he never uses it on you and it’s unnerving, how much you can feel his eyes burning in the back of your neck.

You’re not really interesting in whatever the guy in front of you is saying. He’s not your type and even if he was the most handsome man in the world, he’s not Elias, which means that you’re not interested.

Unfortunately, because Elias is just a friend. A good friend, but a friend nonetheless, and it would save a lot of your problems if you could just be into this guy in front of you.

He’s got a bit of a sleazy vibe about him, though. His eyes are too sharp, focused on the area somewhere below your shoulders, and when he laughs the sound cuts a little too deep. He’s all rough edges and his eyes are filled with fire: if you stay there too long you’re sure you’re gonna get burned.

All you wanted was to get a drink, but he appeared next to you before the bartender even noticed your presence. And now you’re stuck, because you worry if you blow him off he’s gonna become a lot less friendly. There’s just something about him that makes you feel queasy, and you know to trust your gut instinct when it tells you this.

It makes you feel a bit better, feeling Elias’ eyes burning into the back of your head. Knowing that he’s watching makes you feel less alone: if this guy tries anything, he’ll be there and so is half the Canucks organization, to make him pay.

It turns out you don’t even have to wait on that.

“So, what is your favorite color?” the guy asks, in a flirty tone that makes you think this is the beginning of a pick up line you don’t wanna hear. He reaches out and puts a hand on your arm. It’s innocent enough, nothing too far, but it still makes your spine tingle in the most unpleasant way.

You don’t even really know where Elias comes from.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” his voice sounds, sharp and with a little growl. When you turn around he’s standing right there behind you, and the way he’s glaring at the guy makes you think a little about a lion, stalking its prey.

He sounds deceivingly calm. You can tell he’s mad because you know him better than anyone, but to any outsider he looks fine. His voice is steady and his hands don’t shake. But you notice his tensed jaw and his eyes filled with fire.

This guy is a bit bigger than Elias, but you have absolutely no doubt that Elias would kick his ass if he said one wrong word.

“This your girlfriend?” the guy asks, a little snobby. He doesn’t look too worried, one eyebrow raised as if to taunt Elias. You wanna tell him not to bother: many people have underestimated your best friend before and none of them are proud to tell how that story ended.

You don’t say anything, though, because that’s when Elias’ arm sneaks around your waist and he pulls you into his side.

“Yes,” he lies, convincingly and determined. “And we’re gonna go now.”

The guy doesn’t argue and you barely remember how to speak, so you let him guide you away from the scene. He leads you to the table where the other guys are sitting, his arm quickly falling away from your body, but he doesn’t speak and he doesn’t seem much more relaxed.

When you sit down into the booth he squeezes in next to you. The space is a little too small to be comfortable and he’s pressed against your side shoulder to thigh, but that’s not the part you have trouble with – although it gives you a little trouble breathing normally.

No, what you’re worried about is the fact that the tension in his shoulders hasn’t disappeared, and that he won’t take his eyes off the empty glass in front of him. He seems nervous, unsure, and you hate it because you recognize this for what it is.

This is Elias not telling you something.

Elias has been your best friend for long enough that you know when he’s hiding something from you. You recognize it from all the times he didn’t tell you he was injured because he wanted to keep playing, or he didn’t tell you he hated the guys you dated because he didn’t want to upset you.

You wish, sometimes, that he would talk to you more than he does. It’s not fair, maybe, cause you’re pretty sure he talks to you more than he talks to anyone else, but he still doesn’t tell you everything and that sucks.

Because you tell him everything. Everything, except the teeny tiny detail that you’re absolutely crazy about him.

“Hey,” you carefully bump against his shoulder, choosing the moment where Jake says something stupid so nobody is really paying attention to you. “Do you wanna go home?”

Elias looks up, finally, eyes searching your face because he always tries to guess what you want, before telling you what he wants.

“Sure,” he settles on, and you both say goodbye to the rest of the guys before making your way outside.

You live close enough together that you usually share an Uber back to your place, after which Elias will walks the last two blocks back to his apartment. You always offer to switch it around, but then he tells you he’d rather die than let you walk home alone in the dark, so this time you don’t offer, simply tell the Uber driver your address.

In the back of the taxi, Elias is fidgeting. You can tell he wants to say something - he’d never do it with the driver there, but it’s clear from all the ways he can’t sit still and he keeps glancing over at you.

It’s not surprising, then, that he follows you up to your flat.

“Spit it out,” you tell him, as soon as the front door falls into the lock. You kick off your shoes and walk to the kitchen: a glass of water is exactly what you need.

“Are you mad?” Elias blurts out. As soon as he says it, his cheeks color a bit red, but he stubbornly crosses his arms and leans against your kitchen counter.

“Mad?” you laugh. “Because you saved me from Creepy McCreep? No, Lias, I’m not mad.” You hand him a glass of water and he takes it, emptying it in one gulp.

And maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins, but you decide if you’re ever gonna bring it up it might as well be now.

“Sometimes I wish you’d talk to me more than you do, though. I know something’s up with you, because you’re acting off, but I have no idea what’s going on.”

You turn so you’re facing Elias, but he’s keeping his eyes fixed on the cabinet behind you.

When he doesn’t say anything, you push a little. “Elias. Come on. It’s just me.”

You’re good at that, anyway: pushing him. You feel like there’s so much of himself he hides behind a deadpan expression and quiet voice, but those are the parts of him that you love the most. The ones not everyone gets to see; the ones that make him him.

Elias sighs. “I want…” He stops himself, seems to rack his brain for the words to say.

Like anything he said could be wrong. Like you don’t want everything he wants, or go where he goes. And if he would tell you what he’s scared of, you’re pretty sure you’re scared of that too.

“I’m sorry,” he settles on, finally. “It’s not that I don’t wanna tell you things. I’d tell you all my secrets. It’s just…” He laughs, but there’s no humor there. “I’m pretty good with words, usually, in multiple languages, but with you I just don’t know what to say.”

And that’s not really what you wanted to hear, but you try to hide that from your facial expression. You tell Elias everything: he’s the only one that knows you that way, but you can’t fault him for not feeling the same.

Clearly, he can read you anyway. As he always can, because you’re an open book to him.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that.” His voice is gentle, and he slowly comes a bit closer. “It’s just that I think I might want more from you than you want from me.”

You can’t help but snort at that: you want everything from him, so there’s no way he could want more.

“I don’t think that’s true, Elias.”

He acts like he didn’t hear you, instead steps closer still, until the toes of his sneakers are nearly touching your socked feet.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, “if I ever act jealous or selfish, like tonight. I don’t mean to do that. I guess I just have a hard time sharing you.”

The words hit you, slowly at first and then all at once. By the time you’ve registered them, there’s a tiny smile tugging at Elias’ lips.

“You don’t have to share me,” you blurt out, too honest and too sudden, probably, but you can’t seem to hold it in any longer. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

The smile that was nothing more than a ghost of a smile at first, now spreads across Elias’ face like a light. His hands land on your waist, but the rest of him is not moving.

“I think,” he muses, and his face is filled with amusement, “I’d be less of a jealous dick if I knew you were mine.”

And it’s easy then, to press up on your tiptoes and kiss him, lightly at first and then deeper, with more intent.

When you finally pull away, his smile is broad and only matched by yours.

“There’s no reason for you to be jealous,” you say, and you mean every word of it. “I was already yours, anyway.”

#elias pettersson #last blurb!#blurb #regular blurb

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shiberpostshere · 4 years

Text

The Kiss Thief - Park Seonghwa Social Media AU

20. Chapter Sixteen: Happy Realisation✨ (Meant as a sarcastic remark to the Reader, wishing her Happy Realisation like Happy Birthday)

Previous Part✨ Next Part✨

Masterlist of the AU✨

Word Count: 2.2K (😳)

🌸

The Special Weekly Segment, Weekly Flower Delivery had thoroughly infiltrated your mind with admiration of love and swooning until you remembered that you decided to justify your feelings about Seonghwa, with Seonghwa by talking to Seonghwa.

Oh, Park Seonghwa.

What are you going to say? For starters, you had few options you considered:

1) 'Hey! Crazy story. Remember when I liked you in high school but I think it was childish, so I'd like to know what are your present thoughts about it?'

Fairly normal but quite formal.

2) 'Hello there kind sir. Would you like discussing our past embarassing affairs, mostly the mortifying felony committed by me over a glass of liquor?'

It feels like you're asking for great lord's hand in marriage, one who owns expansive estates in the 1740s.

3) 'Hey, Seonghwa, so you know how we've been spending some time together and I have been thinking about us, together, as in a dating, you know what I mean?'

'You know what I mean?' What are you about to do? Transcend into a rap battle?

At the end, you considered it's best to say what feels appropriate at the given situation.

Hopefully, it's appropriate.

The Dazzling Night group is buzzing excitement of accomplishment after the special segment.

The atmosphere shifting from a rather intimate confession to a declaration of never fading love has successfully set a mood for the team to celebrate the well executed show with chicken and beer by the riverside at midnight.

Yeosang and Mingi leave before the rest and decide to get the food on the way to arrange a seating area for comfortable dinner.

The remaining ride in Seonghwa's car after he frantically arrived at the studio looking fresh and clean.

After a short ten minute ride, you breathe in the gusts of winds, carrying a gentle scent of the river.

The location is a little crowded for the night but might disperse as the clock ticks by.

It isn't difficult to spot the waving figures of Yeosang and Mingi in a quiet corner, keeping a safe distance from other groups for private, mostly chaotic conversations of the group.

Jongho collapses on the mattress within a second of spotting it.

"This is the life of a successful segment planner." He states with a deep inhale.

"Okay bragger, save this for later. I'm hungry." Mingi pushes the boy out of the mattress, rolling him onto the grass but Jongho has no plans of sitting straight.

Yeosang twists open a bottle with fizzle. "We need to make a toast."

The rest of you begin arranging your dinner in front of the widespread, breathtaking view of the river and the brightly lit bridge.

Seonghwa and you begin unpacking the boxes of variety of chicken while Hongjoong pours out drinks for everyone.

"A toast? Why? Are we already done with Dazzling Night for this semester?" Hongjoong comments without looking up.

Yeosang gives him a look. "C'mon, read the mood." He falls back beside Mingi. "Seonghwa loves giving speeches anyway. We love a sentimental mood setter."

You nudge the mentioned boy. "Oh? Then I'm looking forward to it too!"

He plops down and rolls his eyes. "For once can you guys stop ganging up on me?"

Your best friend props up his body lazily, supporting his weight on his arms. "Make a toast, make a toast, make a toast."

You snicker and shake your head at the lack of enthusiasm. "Wow, you surely want him to make a toast."

Hongjoong offers you a small cup of beer. "Okay then, would you like to make a toast instead?"

Taken aback, you study the amount of twinkling eyes settled on you. "Oh, hell no." You thrust the cup at the suggested person.

Seonghwa looks at you with dramatic betrayal written all over his features. "My knight in--" His eyes study your frame, "My knight in jeans and flannel, I thought you'd surely save me."

The entire group bursts out in laughter.

Placing a hand on your hip, you gulp down the contents of the small cup. "Why did the ganging up shift from him" You jab a thumb at innocent looking Seonghwa, "To me?"

Jongho simply shrugs. There's an evident satisfaction displayed in his slackened movements.

You feel comfortable as well.

You're used to, no, you are loving the playful bantering but god forbid, you'll never admit this out loud, especially in front of the teasing devil himself.

"Alright, alright" Seonghwa refills your empty cup and lifts up his big one. "Here's a toast to not even a week into Dazzling Night yet to the most talented group of people making everyone's night, especially each other's by working together and supporting each other. How's that for a sentimental toast?"

All of you raise your plastic cups in unison with a gentle 'cheers' and down the booze in one shot.

Mingi wipes his non existent tears. "Fantastic. I'd like to thank my mother, my father and mostly importantly the baby account I followed on instagram two weeks ago which gives me joy---"

He is unable to finish his speech of 'gratitude' as Yeosang shoves him away with a quick push, making the tall boy almost land sideways on top of sauce pouches.

🌸

Throughout dinner, you simply cannot stop smiling or almost rolling over the grass.

It is truly a wild dinner.

One moment Hongjoong slaps away Yeosang's hand from stealing his well deserved chicken wing and another Jongho suddenly belts out a song to honour the evening, earning loud claps from the people seated nearby.

The conversations begin with Seonghwa and Hongjoong reminiscing their first meeting together, makes it's way through the emotional valley but eventually returns to the clowning station.

Time passes by quickly as you munch over different kinds of delicious chickens melting on your tongue with new flavours everytime you grab one from a different box.

Yeosang takes all the credit for the ten out of ten dinner and all the guys agree with the chicken maniac, as addressed by his friends.

As the night gets darker, people start disappearing slowly and you begin to notice the questionable amount of empty beer bottles lying around.

"I think I'm drunk." Hongjoong presses his temple with a wince.

Yeosang grabs the elder's arm and leans into his shoulder with a pout. "Yeosang wants to eat more chicken."

Jongho breaks into a fit of coughs while Mingi throws back his head, booming with laughter.

"Did he just refer to himself in third person?" Eyes wide, you turn to Seonghwa for an answer.

"Yeosang transforms into a cute little kid when he's drunk, he has a low alcohol tolerance." His cheeks are slightly tinted with the pink colour. You don't know if you should be trusting his tolerance either.

"Oh my god, I should totally make a video." Mingi pulls out his phone but Jongho is quick enough to snatch it.

"You don't want to see tomorrow's sunrise?"

Out of everyone, maybe even you, Jongho appears the most sober, as if he hasn't drank at all.

Hongjoong's hand gently pats the drunk one's back. "C'mon, it's getting late, let's go to the restroom and sober up so we can leave."

Jongho leaves his place with a sigh. "I'm going with those three, I think they need some supervision."

Seonghwa places down his refilled cup. "Good idea. I'll stay back with (y/n) and clean up."

You nod. It is indeed getting late.

The three drunk ones trudge towards the washrooms with a normal walking Jongho following behind.

"Let's clean this up, shall we?" You eye the mess scattered around.

As you try to lift your body with much difficulty, a hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you down causing you to yelp.

"But you wanted to talk." You breath hitches for a moment as he turns sideways to place his forehead on your shoulder.

Oh, how you had hoped for him to magically forget about it.

You lift up his head with the support of one finger. "Are you sure you aren't drunk?"

His hands pat his cheeks a few times. "Definitely not drunk." He inches a little closer. "So, tell me."

A chuckle leaves your lips at his attempts to appear sober. "Oh, well, I don't know how to bring this up and I'd rather talk if you will remember this tomorrow as much as I want you to forget."

His shoulders slump. "Oh, (Y/N), is this about our cute little history that you find embarassing."

"What? How did you know that? Wait, who told you---" You blabber out surprised and to deepen the surprise he places a finger on your lips.

"Hey, hey, calm down." His eyes land on the finger and he quickly retrieves it. He clears his throat. "I mean, it is a little obvious. I think it is obvious to everyone but you."

Your cheeks heat up a little at his statement. "Obvious? Okay, since it is that obvious. Yes, yes I am a little embarassed, maybe more than a little embarassed."

Seonghwa tilts his head to the side, an intense look in his eyes. "That's not what I meant (Y/N) but tell me what are you embarassed about?"

Gathering your legs closer to your chest, you place your chin in between the knees. "Well, you know" You let your words trail but draw in a deep breath. "I was fifteen and what happened was silly and ever since we started hanging out together, I feel really comfortable with you and you're really nice. Oh my god, I'm getting nowhere with this." Your feet begin moving in a continous motion.

Seonghwa fixes his posture and sits up straight. "(Y/N)?"

"Yeah?" You look up.

"I liked fifteen year old you. A girl who liked me, often encouraged me even though she didn't understand 11th grade struggles but it's not something that I look back at and make fun of but it's a fond memory that there was a cute girl who liked me back when I was young and too tense for a 17 year old boy." His precise answer tugs a string of your heart.

"Yeah, you were too tense for a 17 year old boy. Remember how you often lectured me like you understand all concepts of the world at such an young age." You comment with an playful smile.

A picture of a young Seonghwa passionately explaining time management like a professor pops up in your mind with a young you listening as if he's reciting a romantic poem. Oh, how smitten you were.

Funnily enough, you still are.

Seonghwa pushes his fingers through his hair with a shy smile, eyes focused on the night sky. "Oh my god. I can't believe you remember that."

You bump your shoulder with his. "How can I forget, you were adorable."

A stange energy is brewing within you. This comfort is unmatched.

He turns to you, fingers suddenly grab your cheeks. "Don't get cheeky with me now." He says in an extremely soft voice.

"Hey, this is not fair. What are you doing?" You get a hold on both of his hand to remove them but fail.

He pulls them a little before letting them go, you rub the sore spots. "You're as much as a troublemaker as you were back then, you just hide it now. Don't you?"

Maybe it's the courage supplied by the little alcohol in your system or maybe it's just him, you grab his face with your hands.

His eyes widen at your actions. "What are you doing?"

You gently bump your forehead onto his. "I'm trying to be bold and knocking some sense into you."

The shocked expression subdues into a serious one. One you hadn't expected to see. "I wouldn't suggest that. What if I really end up forgetting what you're about to do next?"

As soon as he speaks those words, you let go of his face and create a safe distance between you two. "What do you mean? I wasn't going to do anything but bump my forehead with yours! What are you thinking!"

He begins stuffing the empty chicken boxes into each other pretending as if you weren't just inches apart a second ago.

"What if I end up bumping my forehead even harder than you did?" He asks with the most false concern present on his face.

You grab the nearest bottle cap and aim it right at his forehead but he's too quick to catch it. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

"YOU stop being cheeky, can't you tell I was trying to flirt with you!" You let both of your hands rest on your hips.

His mouth forms an "O". "I mean, I should definitely do that, I have the right to. It's not like you know that I've been flirting with you all this time."

You freeze for a moment, eyes blinking twice. "You've been flirting with me?"

He throws up his hands in an exasperated gesture.

"Wait, you've been flirting with me? You weren't just having fun making me suffer by being extremely kind and nice yet teasing and--" The long list of conversations run in your mind and then it pings. "Oh."

Seonghwa begins clapping. "Thank you so much for finally noticing."

Your fall down on the support of your knees.

"Oh my god, Park Seonghwa has been flirting with me all this time"

You realise you've said it out loud and wish to sink further into your hands.

"Yes, I have been." His fingers gently ruffle your hair. "Now, clean this up before Jongho comes back and grumbles about it."

You slowly lift up your head and look at him casually collecting the mess, unphased.

"You're not going to let this one die. Are you?" Hesitant, you await an answer.

He chuckles. "Of course not."

"Fantastic." You stand up, unable to shake off the realisation.

🌸

Pairing: College Student! Seonghwa x College Student! Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, A teeny tiny bit of smut with a pinch of angst

Synopsis: High school crushes are often silly and forgotten. However, you cannot forget the one senior, you "borrowed" once a kiss from. Years have passed and it's a memory you laugh at but what will happen if you're to encounter the same senior in a much different setting and situation? Especially during your first year of college.

🌸

A/N: This user is about to lose her sanity because Tumblr does not save her drafts and likes messing with her already remaining braincells. (I edited this once, I'll edit it again tomorrow)

BUT! THOUGHTS? what do we think after reading this chapter?

After writing this I low-key wanna start a written fic he-he.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 💫

🌸Tags:

@enigmaticsal @stardusthyuck @preets-kpop-world @missiopk @rae-woo @sanisms @retrofuture-ism @jiyeons-closet @hongjoongsnoona @seong-hwa1998 @veeeenus4 @mochibabycakes @vhschs @kokoboxp @choisaniskillingme @vantclavs @f-iyan @staywritten @cobbiebaexqueen @uppiespuppy @mingiflower

🌸Unable to tag: @mingiibabieee @dreamie-deonghwa

🌸

Do not repost, modify or claim the writing or images.

#ateez #ateez social media au #ateezsmau #ateez sm au #ateez text au #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fake texts #ateez au #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jung yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #jung wooyoung #song mingi #choi jongho

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hiddles-evans-hallucinations · 4 years

Text

How Did We Get Here? - 3

Summary: A famous young actress is paired with one of America’s hottest man. The closeness between (Y/N) and Chris sparks as they work together and after the sparks has made its way to the both of them, the media started to question their relationship.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut

Warnings: AGE GAP.

Note: Sorry i kind of jump in quick on this, I’m just so excited my heart burst into Chris saying I DONT WIKE IT. LOL love u guys.

*gifs are not mine*

PART 4

‘Chris Evans seen with co-star (Y/N/L/N) in New York.’

‘(Y/N/L/N) getting cozy with Chris Evans on set.’

‘Chris Evans gives (Y/N/L/N) a kiss on her forehead.’

Pammy was busy taking the call from the medias who’s been asking about me and Chris, we have been filming so much that we even wake up next to each other. I told Pammy to not tell the press and media anything. Chris and I wanted to take things slow but taking things slow when we’re in the public’s eye is almost impossible.

I was sitting on the couch in our hotel in New York, yesterday was our last meeting with the director and the trailer is already out. I really don’t know what me and Chris are right now even when we agreed to take things slow but I guess it’s because both of us never really ask or say anything about out relationship.

“Hey,” Chris said as he walks in with coffee.

I look up at him. “Mm.” I replied, that caught his attention as he put it on the table as he walk towards me.

“What’s with that?”

I shrug as I turn my phone to him and say, “We’ve finished filming, get close to each other, and I thought you want the same thing as me.”

He arches his brow to me.

“And what’s that?”

“Keeping it from the public?”

He made a face as if this wasn’t supposed to be in our agreement. “You never said that and we’ve been seen for like couple of times.”

“Couple of times? Our pictures are everywhere, on set, everywhere, Chris.”

Chris holds up both his hands in defeat. “Okay, why are you raising your tone at me?” he asks.

I frown.

“I don’t want my relationship to be out there, I’m a normal person who deserves to live a normal life, and... I don’t even know what we are? We never really talk about it, so to have pictures out there as if we’re a couple, I don’t know.”

I know why it gets to me so much, I’m 15-years younger than him and the media seem to only talk about it other than what Pammy send to me today.

I got so frustrated and stood up to go to the kitchen, we were giving the opportunity to stay at the presidential suite from Judd so it’s big enough for me just to go to other room to maybe get away from him.

“(Y/N).” he calls softly as I make my way to the kitchen.

Every time I was asked on interviews, or just simply everywhere if I was dating him, there’s only two reactions that came out of me; not saying anything or just no.

Him on the other hand, didn’t get that question a lot, it’s mostly just me and that irritates me and I don’t even know what we are.

A couple of minutes later as I was taking out the sushi Pammy brought me before Chris came back, I hear footsteps. I don’t bother to turn around as I sat on the kitchen counter eating and looking down at my food.

“Do you wanna look at me?”

I shook my head slowly, pouting as I eat.

“Really?” he said again. “Yes.”

“Do you wanna know what we are?” I still didn’t look at him.

“I can tell you only if you look at me.”

I slowly lift my head up and finding him biting his lower lip to stop himself from laughing.

“What?” I said, still pouting with a mouthful.

He leans against the counter across me. “You are my girlfriend, and was I scared to say it to people? No, but I was scared to ask you if you already know that, because we spend a lot of time together, from the first day until now,” he sighs.

“I can’t tell you enough how much happier I’ve been since we’re together, and I’m sorry I never ask you to be mine if that’s what you want-”

“I don’t want you to ask me, I’m young but I’m not 12. It’s... I need you to just tell me if this is really what you want.”

He walks over to me, taking the plate out of my hand and placing it next to me. “Of course, this is what I want, I want you,” he kisses both my cheeks.

“And if it bothers you so much, I can still say no to the media that we’re not together, as long as when we come home, we can.. do.. this..” he trails his lips from my cheeks to my neck.

I let out a soft moan as he pulls me to him. I am still wearing his t-shirt that’s too big on me. “So, are you still mad at me?” he said, lifting my chin up, distracting my hunger.

“Maybe.”

“Really, baby?”

He slides my panties off my legs as he went down and started to work his way with his tongue. “Chris..” I grip his hair, as he cups my cheeks.

“Chris.. please..”

He stops making me look down at him finding him smile, licking his bottom lip. “What do you want, baby?”

“Cut the crap.”

I pull him up by grabbing his shirt and unzip his jeans.

As he slides inside, I fall into his arms, gripping his shirt as he thrust over and over again making my knees feels weak and inviting all the goosebumps to come out of me.

He kisses me deeply, his hands roam inside of his shirt that I’m wearing. I screamed as he deepens himself, I always think I’ll get used on his length but even until now, every time he thrust harder, I found myself screaming or breathless.

I screamed once more, scratching his neck, telling him I’m close, “Chris..”

“Give it to me, baby.”

I feel like everything exploded, and every part of me is filled with more pleasure and joy.

He keeps on thrusting as I kiss him passionately, letting him know that I’m still gonna be here and more than pleased to wait for him to finish as well.

“Mmm..” I mutter against his lips, he smiles as my body trembles as he thrust.

“(Y/N)... I’m-”

Within seconds, I started to feel the warmth of him inside of me. He places his head on my chest before letting himself out of me. He looks up as I smiled at him.

“Come shower with me.” I said, giving him a quick peck on his lips.

. . . .

“Hi, Chris Evans, Hi (Y/N/L/N),” the interviewer greeted us, we slightly laugh, no interviewer had ever said hi to us calling us by our full names.

“Hi, there.” Chris greeted back.

“Hi.” I said to her.

“Okay, so, I’m just gonna ask, how did you finish such an intense movie in such a short time?”

I look at Chris, trying to ask him for a saving on answering this one but he just look at me back and shrug.

I roll my eyes at him and say, “Um.. I guess it’s because me and Chris had been in movies that requires us to have some like moves or you could call it humble skills that the director know supports this movie as well and knowing that he doesn’t want to take a long time on making it into a movie, we all get his excitement.” I said, Chris nodded, not taking his eyes off me.

“Wow, do you learn how to do those moves throughout your career or?”

I made a face as I was thinking.

“Well, we do have physical training every time I’m involved in a movie like this for example. But, other than that for all the jumping, and all type of moves that needed much more of flexibility I think it’s because I also do gymnastics since I was a kid, and I’m boxing too on a daily basis, so I think it helps.”

“Wow..” Chris mutters, hoping that no one could hear him but his face gave it away.

The interviewer asks him, “You didn’t know this?” he shook his head right away.

“No, nobody told me this? Like, the first time we were on set before the shooting, we did like a physical training and she jumps like a tiger, and I was like... huh... did anyone really make her do the training long before I’m actually here?”

The room was filled with laughter immediately.

“I did think she was a show off.”

I gasp in horror looking at him.

He made a face (gif) and let out his “hehehehe”

“Did you really think I was?”

He nodded, “Oh for sure.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “Oh that’s funny,” the interviewer said, wiping her tears from her own laughter.

“But, what was it like on set?”

I frown, “Too much dancing, this guy right here would dance to any song or no song at all.”

“Really? Chris is it true?”

“I got really bored on waiting sometimes, so I would just you know... kill time-”

“Ruining his touch-ups.” I added, cutting him off making him laugh and puts his hand on my knee.

I almost let the whole world know that his touch gives me shiver.

“You guys did really had the best time.”

“Best time.” he added looking at me.

“Okay, last question, you two never work together before this,”

“Nope.” me and Chris both replies in unison.

“Cause there’s rumor you guys might be together is it true?”

“We are together now.” Chris said, causing everyone in the room to look at him making him all nervous and shit. I bit my lower lip nervously, trying to not laugh and also being so concern on how we supposed to confirm our relationship.

He throws his hands together, “I mean! Now, all of us!” I burst out laughing on how awkward it leaves us and everyone in the room of how he’s secretly trying to confirm it.

“Gosh.. that was awkward.” I said and everyone laughed more after my response. “Yeah, y’all make me feel like I was up for another rumor!” Chris huffs (gif).

The interviewer smirks at us. “So, is it true or not?” I made a thinking face, Chris does the same thing, I’m just trying to make people laugh so they really think that we’re not. At least for a little while more, before everything we do is out on every new and articles and social media would blew up.

“He’s my best fwiend, we hang out a lot, does it always has to mean somethig is going on?” I said.

“So, what is it? Yes or a no?”

“It’s a Yo.”

I laughed. “What is that?” I ask him.

“It’s yes and no together.”

“Well, I think we’re just gonna say it’s a no, cause you two keep on denying it.”

We wrap up the interview and give our attached mic to the crews. I stretched out my arms and Chris caught it.

“I’m so tired.” I mutter.

“I wonder why.”

I shot him a look, he puts his hands up in defeat at me. “Behave.”

“Ugh, I don’t wike it.”

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #chris #chris evans smut

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specialmindz · 4 years

Photo

“PAPYRUS! PAPYRUS WHERE ARE YOU?”

BUBBH!

“PAPYRUS!”

Sans poked the baby bones currently playing the bathtub. “hey uh, bro? i think dad wants you…”

“PAH-PYRUS!”

SPLASH SPLASH!

“WHAT YOU WANT STINK DADDY? I’S MAKING MOOSIC OVER HERE!”

The infant continued splashing in the tub, the bubbles floating gently through the air with each slap the water received. “UNDER DA’ SEA! UNDER DA’ SEEEA! DOWN HERE IT WETTER, DOWN HERE IT BETTER, TAKE IT FROM BAY-A-BEEEEE!”

CAP CAP CAP!

CA-THINK, WHAM!

“ugh! dad, you don’t have to slam open the door like that-”

“WHERE’S MY KEYBOARD, YOU LITTLE SHIT?”

SPLASH SPLASH!

“I don’t know what you’s talkin’ bout’. What is dis ‘key-board’ you speak of? Is a board game?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS! YOU USE IT WHEN YOU’RE USING MY COMPUTER! TELL ME WHERE IT IS THIS INSTANT!”

SPLASH!

Papyrus stopped. “Why you need it so bad? You’s a scientist, not a moosician! I’S the only one with musical talent round’ here! Listen to mah jams!”

SPLASH SPLASH!

“UNDER DA’ SEA-”

“THAT’S THE WRONG KIND OF KEYBOARD!”

“uh oh,” said Sans, studying the water. The surface of it was almost completely obscured by bubbles, but he had a good idea of what lay beneath. Papyrus normally didn’t even like bubbles, as they got in his eye sockets and made it hard to see where he was swimming, but today he actually asked for extra suds in order to create “special effects” for a “concert” he was performing.

It looked like Gaster had the same idea too, as a trademarked sigh of unmistakable misery escaped him.

Heh heh, it’s like watching a balloon slowly lose its will to live…

SPLASH SPLASH, SPLASH SPLASH!

“It’s under the water isn’t it?”

“Nyeh?”

“My keyboard. It’s underwater.”

Papyrus looked down at the water and then back up at his father. “I do bad Daddy?”

“Yes Papyrus, you’ve made a mistake...”

“I fuk up yo’ life?”

“Yes Papyrus, you’ve ‘fucked up my life,’ now give me my keyboard so I can repair it.”

“Mmm…no. No, I’s gonna fix it. I already has an idea, in fact! I can still make dis work.” Papyrus licked the water. “Yep. Daz the problem. That’s the problem right there. I got the suds, but the water not be salty enough. SNAS!”

“AHH! wh-what? what do ya’ want pap?” asked Sans, putting a hand against his skull.

“Well FIRST, I’d like you to pay attention,” said the baby. “We gots a situation over here and you’s dreaming bout’ eating Sabastian!” The infant pointed to a dead crab floating in the bath near his feet. It had CLEARLY been eaten a long time ago by someone else, probably a human seeing as Papyrus got all his stuff from the Dump, but apparently the shell was all he needed to play pretend.

“I needs you to search the Powder Place and finds the salt,” said Papyrus, now pointing at the bathroom cabinet.

The bathroom cabinet was where the family keep their cleaning supplies. Heavy-duty powder that was used to clean up serious messes regular soap couldn’t handle, pest control bottles that sprayed foul-smelling chemicals, and copious amounts of baby powder lined the floor of the cabinet. Some of the bottles and boxes were neatly arranged, but most of the supplies had been knocked over, their contents scattered everywhere due to a combination of missing lids and an unsupervised baby…at least that’s what Papyrus said.

His little brother didn’t like the Powder Place very much, and at one point he even tried to do something about it, admitting fully that he had once purposely spilled the contents of the baby powder in order to make the area smell like an infant rather than Catty’s litterbox room. It was Papyrus’s argument that cleaning supplies should never smell like fresh fruit.

“Be careful Snas, it may smell delicious in there, but erything be poison. Big people’s use it as a trick to kill off fat babies.”

“Don’t be absurd! That’s not even close to being correct.”

“Yes it is. Big people’s like their monies and a fat baby is a baby that eats alllll the time. Food costs money, so they buy poison that smell like food to get rid of the baby without legal con-see-quences.”

“That’s not true, who TOLD you that?”

“Dirt-Butt.”

“*Sigh*”

Of COURSE it was Dirt-Butt.

“Dirt-Butt” was ALWAYS saying nonsense, though it really didn’t bother Gaster as much as every other source of knowledge the infant found. He was usually relieved in fact. Papyrus was used to getting stereotypical info from the media, but the things Dirt-Butt told him more often than not, actually kept him out of trouble.

If only headaches weren’t still the norm…

“NO DADDY, DON’T USE DA’ LECTRICAL HOLE! DIRT-BUTT SAY PICHU LIVE IN THERE!”

“…What?”

“dirt-butt told pappy that pikachus were electric mice who made their homes in electrical outlets,” explained Sans, playing a game on his phone.

“IS TOO! PIKACHU’S BABIES LIVE IN THERE! YOU’S GONNA POKE EM’ IN THE BUTT!” Papyrus covered the holes of the outlet with his hands, Determined to save his fellow infants. “Dirt-Butt says only big people can get poked in the butt, he also say-”

“Pikachus do NOT live or make their nests in electrical outlets.” Interrupted the scientist. “No one does.”

“Yes they do! Dat’s why the tricity gets used up. Pichu eat da’ power so they can gets big, is their nutrients!”

Gaster shook his head. “No. The reason you don’t want to stick things in here is because you’ll be electrocuted. Dirt-Butt lied. You need to pay more attention to people when they’re talking Papyru-”

“You gets elly-cuted cause’ you piss off Pikachu.”

“Did you not hear me?”

“If you poke the babies, you gets zapped.”

“Papyrus.”

“I KNOWS MAH ANIMALS DADDY!”

“SNAS, MORE SALT!”

“NO, do NOT put salt in your brother’s bathwater, it’s terrible for bones,” said Gaster reaching into the cabinet. He pulled out the salt, but was immediately met with a wet keyboard to the face.

CACK!

“PAPYRUS!”

“GIMME MAH SALT STINK DADDY! IS MINE!”

“No, it is NOT yours-”

“GIMME MY SALT OR I’S GONNA TELL UPON YOUUU!”

“You do that.”

“I WILL! I’ll tell upon you and you’s gonna get in trouble! I tells em’ you taked the salt and tried to make a baby stew…” said Papyrus smiling.

“Wh-”

“I’ll tell eryone you putted salt and carrots in mah bath and eryone will hate you. They’ll go ‘poor baby Pappy, he has such a bad wife, his daddy try to cook him for supper! We should ah-rest that bad guy and donate lossa monies to that baby’s fundraiser so their family can eats!”

“…What fundraiser?” asked the father, sensing trouble. He immediately regretted saying anything. In fact, he regretted it before the second word even came out of his mouth, but by then it was already too late.

“MY fundraiser. Baby Pappy’s Happy Nappies for Crap Bs!” Papyrus grinned and spread his arms out wide as if in celebration.

“’Crap B’s…?”

“Crap babies. Babies who not geniuses like me. Snas say, other baes not as fortunate as us, so I should be nice and share mah toys.”

“…”

“I don��t wanna do that, so instead I makes a fundraiser to get the inferior infants nappies!”

“Papyrus-”

“Nappies is diapers.”

“I know what nappies are,” said Gaster, already annoyed. Though the fundraiser’s name was enough to prove to Asgore that he wasn’t responsible for whatever came from his youngest’s latest money-making scheme, he still had to put an end to it. If he didn’t, he’d have the king’s citizens knocking at his door, and things were already getting bad in that regard.

More and more monsters had fallen ill from Hotland’s toxic fumes due to the fact that the Underground’s air filter lacked the power to operate and the more…unreasonable, individuals were getting upset. With the Lab being the closest medical building, the sick were often brought in and placed into the renovated Medical Ward. What was once mostly a living room was now a warehouse of beds, stretching almost from one end of the room to the other and lined with monsters of every variety.

Not that he was running out of room or anything.

The monsters there weren’t being cured, but rather drained of their magic to create magic crystals, a brilliant, if cold-hearted idea to be sure. This however, was necessary, though it had a severe consequence as it resulted in an increase of the Fallen; monsters who had lost too much magic and so had fallen into a comatose state. If the comatose had a chance of waking, he wouldn’t have dozens of family members banging on his door and flooding his email with questions, but sadly that wasn’t the case. Those that fell, fell to dust. There was no waking them…at least he didn’t THINK so…Gaster admittedly hadn’t bothered to experiment with that kind of thing yet.

I’m raising two children, keeping the oil reservoir under control AND a secret, trying to come up with a permanent solution to our power problem, logging the names and the number of incoming patients, making magic crystals, recording Papyrus’s progress, AND fixing HIS messes; I don’t have the TIME to meddle in monster mortality.

“uh, dad? papyrus just ran out the door giggling.”

“Wh-what?” Gaster looked about the bathroom to find that it was, indeed, missing a baby. “Why didn’t you stop him?!”

“he ran right past you, so i figured it was okay.”

“Papyrus by himself is NEVER okay, you should know that! Where did he go?” He poked his head out of the doorway and looked down the hall. A wet trail of baby tracks led into the darkness and he could just faintly hear the clacking sound of tiny bone feet getting farther and farther away.

“he said something about ‘customer satisfaction’ or…whatever. i wasn’t really paying attention-”

“GET OFF YOUR PHONE AND GO GET YOUR BROTHER!”

“*siiiiigh* FINE. PAPPY? WHERE YOU AT BABY BRO?”

“I SAID ‘GET’ NOT ‘YELL’ SANS!”

Lazy little…

“uuuughh!” Rolling his eyes, Sans shoved his phone back into the pocket of his hoodie and walked out the door. “PAPPYYYY! HEEERE PAPPY!”

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE!”

Wiping off his ruined keyboard, Gaster tucked it under his arm and followed his oldest.

He already knew where the little bastard was headed.

Earlier in the week, while he was sweeping dust off the beds, he had found a little white diaper under the covers. ALL of the beds that once held the Fallen, had them in fact. It was obvious that Papyrus was putting diapers on the comatose patients, but until today, he never knew why.

“…those aren’t babies pappy,” said Sans from far off.

“Course they are! Daz why they sweep so much. Cwap babies don’t do much Snas, they just eat, sweep, and doody in their diapies. Some of them pay wit toys, but-”

“PAPYRUS GET OUT OF THE MEDICAL WARD!”

Papyrus turned his head to look down the hall, then, waving at his daddy, he turned back around.

“PAPYRUS!”

“Shoosh, stink Daddy! You wake da’ babies!” The tiny skeleton looked at the fluffy, unconscious dog-monster. “So tell us, doody-dog…how satisfied are you wit mah pro-duct? From one to a hundred?”

“…”

Papyrus lifted the dog’s head, “Eleventy-six!” exclaimed the baby bones, “I’d definitely wear another! Mah only complaint is the lack of hole for my stupid dog tail-”

“*pfft!* pap-”

“THERE SHOULDN’T BE ANY COM-PAINTS!” yelled Papyrus into the dog’s face. “DIS A FUNDRAISER, YOU BE GATEFUL FOR WHAT YOU GET, SUCK-BABY!”

“…”

“he’s not answering you bro.”

“Cwap babies not talk much Snas, but the result be clear. They satisfied…and now I must expand mah business!” cried Papyrus, raising a finger in the air. “TO WATERFALL!”

“huh?”

Using his wingdings, Papyrus picked himself up and placed his little body atop his brother’s skull, apparently expecting Sans to take him to his destination with haste.

He didn’t.

“pap, i don’t know what EXACTLY you’re trying to do, but it’s probably not a good idea; you’re naked and dad was-”

“TO WATERFALL SNAS!!” repeated the baby, louder this time. “TIME BE MONEY, HONEY!”

“don’t call me that.”

SPL-SPLASH!

Teleporting to Waterfall, the two brothers fell into the water near the docks, Papyrus slipping from his sibling’s head almost at once.

“NYEHHHHAAH! WHY YOU PUT US IN DA’ WATER SNAS? THE FISHIES SEE MAH BUTT!” The infant covered his rear end with a tiny hand, using the other to grab hold of Sans’ hoodie.

“then you shoulda listened to me huh?” replied Sans, CLEARLY not sorry at all. “besides, you know i can’t control exactly where i show up!”

Just the area in general…

“DON’T LOOK AT MAH BUTT CWEEP FISH!”

TAP!

A strange tapping sound drew the older boy’s attention, and Sans turned his head to see old man Gerson walking along the docks, cane in hand, while the baby batted at the curious fish.

“What’s all the commotion over here?” asked the turtle, scratching under his chin. He looked a lot more ancient when he was in full view. Sans usually only saw him in his shop, as did everyone else. It was rare to find him wandering around, as Undyne had a habit of taking it upon herself to scavenge for supplies at the Dump and present it to him to selling. Because of her, he never really HAD to leave anymore.

TAP, SHIFF!

The old man got closer and peered down at the two in the water, holding a magnifying glass to his eye. “Wahhaha, of course, of course it’s you, Papyrus. Giving your brother trouble I see!”

Does he bring that everywhere with him?

“it-it wasn’t pappy’s fault, i made a mistake,” said Sans quietly.

“Is that so? Well you two shouldn’t be bathing in the same place we water folk get our food, might get a taste for skeletons! Wahhahaha!” He laughed again, but the little Horror wasn’t as amused.

“DON’T EAT DA’ BABY!”

“we weren’t bathing…i just…took a wrong turn or something…”

“You weren’t? Then where are your brother’s clothes?”

“CTHULHU TOOK EM’! I seens it, wit my own widdle eyes, Wrinkle-Man!” said Papyrus, splashing in the water.

“Really? Well that’s just awful! Isn’t that awful Sans?”

“please don’t encourage him.”

“They must be pretty mean to do something like that; picking on a poor little cherub like you.”

“Yep, I’s a sad cher-chero-cherrio. A very sad cheerio Wrinkle-Man, baby’s don’t gots lots of monies ya’ know? How I supposed to buy new jammies wit no monies?”

“That IS an issue,” said Gerson warily, sensing an approaching problem. He turned to Sans, but the child only glared at him, his expression giving the answer to the old man’s unsaid plea.

You started this, now YOU can deal with it.

I’m not helping you.

“Ya’ know what would make this little cheerio happy again Wrinkle-Man?”

“cherub, pappy.”

“*Sigh*…What’s that?”

“If you would accept dis diapie.” The baby bones held up a soaked diaper, possibly getting it from out of Sans’ pocket.

“oh, that’s right, i didn’t check my pockets today.” He looked down at his clothes sadly. Whatever was in there today was probably ruined now by the water.

Papyrus tended to hide things in his brother’s hoodie.

Every once in a while, the kid comedian would reach into his pocket to find crayons, candy, a kaleidoscope, bouncy balls, a yo-yo, and sometimes even makeup in his pocket. They were fun little surprises that he enjoyed, like tiny gifts. They obviously belonged to his sibling, but liked Papyrus liked to say “what’s mine is yours,” so he considered them gifts.

The big treasures were his favorite, as they were rare and akin to getting surprise packages in the mail. He’d wake up in the morning and go to the place on the floor near the dresser where he always threw his hoodie and be excited to find a big lump covered by his clothing. A sign that his brother had hidden something neat.

You’d think he’d quit hiding things with it by now. He’s gotta know I’m stealing em’…

One time, Sans even found a skateboard hidden under it. He played with it a lot, and got pretty good, but when he started doing tricks, Papyrus became…unhappy. He remembered his baby brother screaming in terror and crying when he showed him a kickflip for the first and last time. He remembered feeling super guilty about it too. He only had 1 HP after all; if he fell, it was bye-bye big bro.

The skateboard now sat in a corner collecting dust, a sad reminder of what could have been.

“I don’t need a diaper yet kiddo!” said Gerson, slightly insulted.

“Sure, you do! All old peoples need diapies and all we asks in ass-change is dat you gives us a small donation.”

“A small donation’ hm?”

“Yep, for just thirty-twelve G, you could have this super absorbent, long-lasting diaper. Yo’ donations go to the Happy Nappies Fundraiser where we will buy MORE diapies and gives them to the less fortunate.”

“…It sounds like you’re selling diapers for 3,012g, FAR more than they’re worth. That’s thirty-twelve right? 3,012g?”

“Correct. We uses the extra monies to buy more nappies.”

“That’s not a fundraiser young’un’, you’re supposed to be raising money for charity. If you’re selling these to the babies here in the Underground-”

“I not sell to babies, I GIVE to da’ baes!”

“…But their parents pay for them.”

“Yes.”

“That’s not a fundraiser, you’re ‘hustling’ as the kids say.”

“No! I not hustle, I BUSTLE! The fundraiser be for babies, THEY gets the diapies for free, not the big peoples.”

“you’re either not understanding bro, or you’re trying to cheat people.”

Probably the latter.

“Daz not too. I buys diapies for the peoples who needs em’ and I use the rest to buy stuffs dat I need...like my jammies. Erybody wins.”

Papyrus attempted to climb out of the water and then, realizing his arms weren’t strong enough to pull him up onto the dock, he summoned his wingdings and placed himself onto the planks.

RATTLE RATTLE RATTLE!

“ugh, pap!” Sans covered his face as his tiny and inconsiderate sibling shook his body back and forth like the dogs in Snowdin, attempting to rid himself of the water.

“Wahahaha!”

SQISH!

THAP THAP THAP!

The infant squeezed the diaper in his hands and whipped it in the air, sending beads of water every which way. He knew it would probably not be the most absorbent product he ever sold, but perhaps the old monster would still want it for catching doodies…?

“bro, that diaper’s ruined, you’re not going to be able to sell it. look, it’s torn…”

“Nyeh?” Papyrus looked at the nappy in his hand. It seemed fine just a minute ago, but now it was all stretched out and worse yet, the sticky parts that were meant to hold the diaper in place wouldn’t stick anymore. He tried several times to get them to, but the front kept falling open.

Sans was right.

His product was ruined.

“NYEHHHHHAAHHHH! SNAAAAAAAS!”

“*sigh*”

“MY DIAPIE BE BOKEN SNAS! NYEH-HAAAHHHH!!!”

Sans got out of the water and picked up his baby brother. “don’t cry pappy,” he said, bouncing him up and down in his arms. “it’ll be okay.” He patted him on the back, but the baby bones refused to stop crying, still clutching the diaper in his little hand.

“Oh dear…hmm…tell you what,” said Gerson, pulling a wallet out of his shirt pocket. “I’ll buy your nappy at 2,000g, since it’s damaged. A young’un’ needs a pair of clothes, right?”

“our dad didn’t sell his clothes if that’s what you’re-”

“Shu up Snas, YES PWEASE MR. WRINKLE-GUY!” yelled Papyrus, suddenly all smiles. “I WOULD VERY MUCH AH-PEA-CIATE THAT!”

“PAPYRUS!”

“WAHHAHAHAHA!” laughing loudly, the tortoise-monster gave him the money. “Looks like this old man’s been outmaneuvered in marketing! I better watch out!”

“Nyeh hee hee hee!”

“…”

“Oh, don’t look so glum, my boy. Your brother needs this practice in order to protect you in the future! He’s gonna be quite the young warrior, isn’t that right Papyrus?”

“…There will be war.”

“WAHHAHAHAHA!” Mr. Gerson laughed again and walked back towards his shop. He tended to laugh a lot when Papyrus was present, though seeing him also made the elderly monster a bit sad too.

Sometimes I miss the old days when a lot of these little guys were around…

Maybe one day, nature will fix our past mistakes. I just hope it doesn’t need help…or that it’s not too late.

TAP, SHIFF!

“…that wasn’t very nice bro.”

“The business world is a harsh one, Snas,” said Papyrus, counting his G. “You needs to pactice too big Buther. One day, you’s gonna need to help da’ baby, ya’ know? Is sad dat you has no monies of your own. Just cause’ you gots 1 hp, don’t mean you’s useless. You gots a brilliant mind, put it to good use.”

“i don’t need life advice from a crook.”

“Kay’ when you gets a life, come see da’ baby.”

“i HAVE a life, you little asshole! it’s just isn’t a life of crime.”

“No crime no dime, big Buther. Sometimes you gots to break the rules to get da’ jewels! Tell Daddy he either pay you for help, or he pay fines for child labor.”

“that’s blackmail.”

“Is genius is what it is.”

Sans chuckled and put the money in his hoodie. “why would you need my help bro? unemployed monsters down here are a dime-a-dozen!”

“…”

“all jewel need to do is lie and they’ll help you out. i don’t need to do anything, heh heh…”

“…You needs to pactice yo’ font too.”

“fine-”

“SOMEWHERE AWAY FROM DA’ BABY!” yelled Papyrus, kicking his legs.

“i can’t leave you here, child abandonment is a crime-”

“DAZ NOT EVEN A PUN!”

“besides, crawling all the way home would be a bit labor-ious, wouldn’t it?”

“IIIII HATE CHUUUUUU!!”

CAP, CAP!

Oh crap, someone else is coming. I need to get Pappy back in some clothes or-

“HEY! NO BATHING IN THE FOOD SUPPLY, IT’S ILLEGAL!” cried a shrill voice Sans knew all too well. Startled, he dropped his brother in surprise, but luckily the infant didn’t seem to care.

“HELLWOE FISH-LADY!” Papyrus threw up his arm in greeting. “DA’ WRINKLE-MAN JUST LEFT!” The baby pointed towards Snowdin.

“He was just here?”

“yeah, he headed back to his stall a few seconds ago,” replied Sans, glaring at his brother. “while you were…underwater. why were you underwater? this is the breeding area…”

“Right, I was talking to the fish. Gotta make sure no one’s stealing them, so everyone can keep eating-”

“Fish Lady’s growing an army to fight the homos!” said Papyrus excitedly.

“SSHH!! Shut the fuck up Papyrus!” whispered Undyne harshly.

“homosapiens baby bro, you have to say the whole thing or…you know what? just say humans, kay’?”

“Homo humans!”

“…not better. also, are you talking about actual fish, undyne or water monsters?”

“WHO CARES?” yelled the young girl. “THE MORE SOLDIERS THE BETTER!” She grinned proudly, her hands on her hips. No one would expect an attack from the water AND the land, the next war against humans was as good as won.

That is, if no adults found out about it. They didn’t appreciate Undyne’s ingenious war strategies like Papyrus did.

No matter how helpful or cool they were, adults always seemed to have a problem with her ideas, and unfortunately, Sans and Gaster were no different. For most of them to work, she needed science nerds, but they saw her plans the same way they saw Papyrus’s, terrible and “asinine.”

The Royal Scientist’s words, not hers.

She didn’t know what “asinine” meant, but it had the word “ass” in it, so she assumed their father was calling her ideas booty.

My ideas aren’t ass!

My ideas are GREAT!

Stupid, crappy, science dweeb, is just lazy. How hard can it be to build a giant robot? Isn’t there already someone asking him to do that already?

“…A giant robot can destroy entire towns, I saw it in a movie.”

“what are you talking about? are you still on about that robot army?” Sans sighed, a trademark sign of his that meant he thought she was being stupid. Undyne had heard it many times before.

“IT’S A GOOD IDEA!!” she screamed. “AND IT WASN’T AN ARMY, IT WAS JUST O-”

“for the last time, if you saw something already done in a movie undyne, the humans know how to COUNTER it; they make the friggen’ things!”

Undyne’s so dumb…

“Yeah, but the movies are old, Sans! They’re in the Dump, because no one watches them anymore! We’ll have the element of surprise.”

“I wish to pilot a Gundam, big Buther.”

“SEE?! Papyrus wants it!” she said, pointing at the baby bones. “You want to blow up a town widdle Pappy?”

The infant smiled and bounced up and down on his rear end excitedly. “Yeah yeah yeah!” he said, ignoring his sibling’s frown. “I’s Middle Eastern ya’ know…is mah calling.”

“still don’t know what middle ease is, pap.”

“Middle East Snas! It mean I comes from da’ center of the earth…only is a liiiittle East.” The infant pinched his fingers together, squinting with one eye to make sure there was space between them, hoping he had solved the mystery.

“The center of the earth…?” Undyne looked confused. “You mean Hell?”

“i’d believe that.”

“Noooo! I’s on the WOOF of Hell…cept’ is a liiittle East.”

“Yeast…isn’t that the stuff bread is made from?”

“he’s saying east, undyne. it’s a direction.” Sans pointed towards where he knew the Lab was located.

“…That’s left, Sans-I MEAN RIGHT! That’s your right.”

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE!”

“SHUT UP PAPYRUS, I WASN’T WRONG!”

“you are.”

“YOU SHUT UP TOO!!”

“how old are you?”

“YOU CAN’T ASK ME THAT! I’M A WOMAN, IT’S ILLEGAL!”

“Is you a baby like me, Fish Lady? If so, I gots a great product for you…”

“I’m NOT a baby, I’M GROWN!” Undyne stomped her foot angrily on the planks of the pier, scaring Sans a little. He had no idea how long those timbers had been there, but he knew people walked on them every day. Eventually, they would break and need to be replaced…probably by the pines in Snowdin.

There are some people who use them for firewood too though, I know Grillby does. What if we run out? How long does it take a pine tree to grow?

…

Who planted them there to begin with?

“Nyeh? You spacing again, big Buther?”

It was something he thought of often whenever he was bored, and he highly doubted it was the monsters doing.

“Come back down from space, Snas!”

No one knew what the inside of Mt. Ebott was like, which is why everyone in the beginning not only scrambled for a home as soon as possible, but also refused to leave it behind for something better. It didn’t make sense to begin with for the monsters to carry saplings with them into a mountain with little to no sunlight. Even if the sunlamps in Snowdin had been immediately installed, it would’ve taken time. Could the trees survive that long without the sun? Why were they all pine trees to begin with? If the monsters came from different environments all over the world, wouldn’t some have brought cacti, palm trees, and other tropical plants?

It’s like someone made preparations for us to live here…

“EARTH TO THE SNAS!”

“AH!”

“Stop daydreaming and tell da’ Fish Lady how great mah fundraiser be! She doesn’t want to buy my diapies…” said Papyrus quietly.

“Why are you naked?”

“s-sorry bro, i was thinking about the trees. how come there’s only pine trees and fruit trees in the underground?”

“Nyeh?”

Why was his brother always thinking about trees?

“There’s a fern in the Resort Area,” said Undyne, hoping to change the subject. She’d rather talk about plants than diapers.

“why though? who was the guy who went ‘hey, yeah, i know i’m being ushered out of my home with little to no warning and should prooobably pack everything i think will be needed to maintain my survival-”

“But this fern doh…” The young girl laughed, imagining the scenario. “I gotta take this fern, man!”

“*pfft!* c’mon undyne, for real-”

“FERNS BEFORE FOOD! FERNS BEFORE FAMILY!”

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE HEE!”

“AND THESE FLOWERS, DUDE! I NEED THESE GOLDEN FLOWERS IN MY LIFE!”

Sans laughed in spite of himself as his baby brother let out a high-pitched screech of delight. As curious as he and it was, the comedian had to admit it was also pretty funny.

I guess back then, people didn’t have to worry so much about survival as they do now. They probably weren’t expecting things to be so hard down here.

It’s good that kids like us don’t have to worry about that sort of thing…most of us anyway.

Dad’s a douche, but our generation depends on him and he’s doing his best to deliver. Without him, the Underground would be doomed.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was one of the worrying kids. The future frightened him; his father frightened him.

One of the perks of being invisible, aside from whenever the Royal Scientist needed him, was that Sans could go anywhere and do anything he pleased when off the clock. He knew about the Fallen and what his father was doing before Flowey even appeared to tell him, and he was willing to bet his brother did too.

Papyrus didn’t mess with the draining machine.

Sans noticed he didn’t talk about it either. There were no questions, no threats, no mentions whatsoever. In fact, these days Papyrus seemed to mellow out a bit in general, his pranks becoming fewer and fewer in number until the labs horrendous reputation began to fade. The baby bones had even gone out to recruit other bright minds to help in the lab, no doubt sensing his father’s incoming mental collapse.

Despite how serious their power problem was, the truth remained that they HAD oil. It was dangerous to use, but it was a choice Gaster had other than draining that he didn’t favor. He CHOSE murder, their father CHOSE to drain sick monsters who came to him for help, and showed absolutely no remorse or concern for his actions.

Not good.

“Does Onion-chan gots ferns?”

“huh?”

“It’s Onionsan, Pappy. You’re spelling it wrong, and yes, those are ferns.”

“oh, you’re still talking about ferns…who’s onionsan?” asked Sans. He didn’t know much about the monsters that lived underwater, but apparently no citizen was safe from his little bro. He hoped he hadn’t caused too much trouble…

“Onionsan-chan be a monster from Japan, man!” replied the infant, enjoying his tongue twister. “I doesn’t know how he got here dough…”

“OnionSAN, Papyrus-”

“They too big for mah diapies, so we not visit the tentacles today.”

“what?”

“Onionsan is a monster that looks like an octopus. I’ve never heard of Japan though.”

“Is where the woah-bots come from, Fish Lady! Da’ Vocaloid and the Gundams and the aira-planes…”

“airplanes aren’t robot birds baby bro,” said Sans smiling.

“Nyeh? No bird? Tsundereplane lie…?”

“huh?”

This alarmed Sans. Papyrus was behaving himself more in the lab, but that meant he was spending most of his time outside where it was dangerous.

Who’s Tsundereplane? How many people is he talking to?!

“you know what? it doesn’t matter. stop talking to strangers papyrus, it’s dang-PAPYRUS!”

BEEP BEEP!

Taking Sans’ phone out of his pocket via wingdings, Papyrus called his “friend” on speed dial.

“Hellwoe?”

“papyrus, stop!”

Who the hell gave him their number?! How long has that been in my phone?!

“Yep, is da’ baby…”

“hang up, papyrus. whoever gave you their number isn’t a sane person-”

“Snas say you’s not a whoa-bot bird Tsundereplane. Why you lie to cute widdle me?”

“…”

“WELL SCU YOU TOO, STINK ARROW-PLANE! I BEAT YO’ ASS!”

BEEP!

“…”

“…Tsundereplane not my friend no more.”

“Aww…poor Pappy…” Undyne patted the infant’s skull.

“don’t feel sorry for him! that’s what he gets for talking to strangers, maybe next time he’ll think before putting numbers in MY phone!”

“Yep, woe is me Fish Lady…”

“are you even listening to me?”

“…First they steals mah jammies and now they lie and call me an idiot-face. I am the saddest of cheerios…”

“THEY STOLE YOUR CLOTHES?!”

“you little shit.”

“STEALING’S ILLEGAL! Don’t worry Pappy, THE UNSTOPPABLE UNDYNE WILL GET YOUR CLOTHES BACK!”

“he’s lying undyne-”

Sans reached out to stop her, but Undyne was already off towards Hotland.

Damnit!

There’s no way he’d catch her, he didn’t even know who or where Tsundereplane was.

I don’t even know what they LOOK like…an airplane probably, but…

“Nyeh hee hee hee!”

“*humph!* i bet you’re pretty proud of yourself, huh baby bro?”

“Yes.”

“you think you did the right thing?”

“Yes.”

“what do you think’s gonna happen when undyne finds out you were lying?”

“She gonna come back and do the accu-sa-tions and Imma say ‘they throw my jammies in da’ lava?’ then I’s gonna cry reeeal loud, and she gonna feel sorry for me.”

“…”

“She’ll say, ‘aww, I didn’t think of that! Poor baby Pappy…I should go out and buy you NEW jammies!’ and then I say, ‘no, no, you’s done enough.”

“…is that right?”

“Yep. I say, “Just gives me some monies and I go gets em’. Shopping be boring.’ Then she gonna go ‘you’s right! Shopping IS boring. Here are some monies…and a widdle extra for the accu-sa-tions.”

“…”

“That’s when I be reeeal nice and say ‘keep da’ extra, you deserves it for being a good friend to da’ baby.’ Then I buys candy and I eats it, then we all live happy ever after.”

“…i’m calling undyne.”

“WHY YOU GOTS TO DESTROY MY HAPPY AFTER?”

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

“I’M NOT SELLING YOU NOTHIIIIINN’!!!” screamed Papyrus, “NYEH!” Snatching his brother’s phone, the baby bones took off running towards Snowdin.

“PAPYRUS! PAPYRUS, NO!”

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE HEE!”

“DO NOT GO INTO TOWN NAKED, PAPYRUS!”

Friggin’ dumbass! There’re dogs everywhere there, he can’t be showing that many bones, he’ll get eaten!

Or they would.

Probably the dogs.

Either way, Sans knew who would ultimately be blamed.

“GOOD LUCK FINDING ME IN DA’ SNOW BIG BUTHER!”

“ugh, shit!”

POOF!

With an enthusiastic smile, Papyrus leapt into a snow poff as soon as his sibling lost sight of him. There was no way Sans would find a tiny white skeleton in a snowfield. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack…whatever a haystack was.

Finally, his Michael Jackson syndrome was paying off.

“Nyeh? *sniff sniff*”

That was odd. The snow poff he was in smelled like doody. Well, actually, the whole town smelled like a barnyard, but this was especially bad…

“*huff puff* pa-papyrus…”

“…”

“papyrus, i know you’re in there, your tracks lead right to the snow poff field!”

“…Those could be anybody’s tracks, there’s no baby here, skelly-man.”

“really? heh heh, well that’s weird. most people who live in snowdin avoid the snow poffs.”

“…I had to move cause’ I missed my rent. This my home now.”

Sans laughed; his brother had no idea. “woooow, that sucks. i’d personally hate to live in a poop-igloo, but you do you man, ha ha ha!”

“What?” Papyrus poked his head out of the snow poff and looked down.

“yep. the reason the snow is built up in this area and nowhere else, is because this is where people dump their chamber pots.”

“…”

“the snow tends to build on top of the droppings and that’s what makes these little mounds, cool huh?”

“…”

“asgore is trying to get plumbing up and running, but it’ll be a while before THAT happens, what with the power issue and all. personally? i don’t see it happening. people make money gathering these snow poffs up to sell for fertilizer.”

Without saying a word, Papyrus climbed out of the snow poff and walked towards the Ruins. It was the longest route to a river, but at least it didn’t cut through town.

“papyrus?”

“Shut up.”

“aww, what’s wrong pappy? paaappyyyy-”

SPLASH!

The baby bones jumped into the river, using his wingdings to hold himself steady in order to keep from being swept away by the current.

“…”

“oh no, pappy! you can’t just hop into the river, the fishies will see your butt!”

“…”

“you know what you need to catch those doodies? what every baby needs?”

“Choke on bread.”

“a dia-”

SPLASH!

“heh.”

#Fonttale #Fonttale au #Undertale #Undertale au #Papyrus #Sans #Baby Papyrus #Kid sans #Kid undyne #Undyne #Gaster #Undertale fanfiction #Dark Comedy

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cherryjuicegf · 4 years

Text

with you all along

Ship: Geraskier

Prompt day: Day 2-Potions for @geraltwhumpweek

Medium: All media types

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mild gore

Summary: "You are an idiot, Geralt of Rivia. You think that, eventually, you are all alone and will be until the end of your days. You say you don’t need anyone and yet, here I am, bandaging your wounds and singing your triumphs. You need people and you care about them more than you say you do, but refuse to admit any of it, and you harm yourself in the end. Tell me I’m wrong."

Jaskier has some unfortunate encounters and Geralt's potions lack any sense of timing at all.

Word count: 4644

a/n: it's also on ao3, i hope you enjoy!

“For real, now, Geralt, you can’t just expect me to stay here and wait, it’s not like I’ve never seen a kikimore before,” Jaskier rested his hands on his hips pouting and circled Geralt to stand in front of him. Roach snorted beside him as if in agreement and nudged his shoulder. “And you can’t also leave Roach behind,” the bard added and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Geralt glanced at him for a moment and then returned his attention to removing some bottles with colourful elixirs from the saddlebag and putting them in his satchel. “I’m not asking you to stay; it’s out of the question. And as you said, you’ve seen a kikimore before. No new song is coming out of this one.”

“How dare you doubt the impetuosity of my galloping imagination and the object of my inspiration in one sentence? I’ve seen a kikimore before but no one can guess what new dangers we will have to face with this one!” Jaskier let his enthusiasm subside after he received a glare from the witcher and he shrugged. Well, Geralt was partly right, no song was worth the danger, but the thing is, this was not a great danger. He’d been in great danger a fair amount of times before and he could tell when he had to retreat to an argument. That was not the case right now though, so he spread his arms expectantly. “And anyway, what about Roach?”

Geralt stopped moving for a moment as if a thought flashed in his mind and then proceeded to close the satchel. “Roach stays ‘cause the innkeeper asked so. So that he’ll be sure I will return and won’t leave the kikimore alive.”

Jaskier scoffed. “Bollocks. You never get paid before the job’s done and besides, since when do you listen to what–”

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s growl interrupted him and he frowned in confusion. Geralt kept his eyes fixed on him for some seconds and then sighed. “It’s just out of the village. And we’re almost out of coin. But,” he paused and took a look around cautiously, as if somebody could be hearing, “You keep an eye on the people here… They’re… unsettling.”

Jaskier swallowed considering the witcher’s worry and then huffed indifferently. “A song or two will cheer them up. But really, Geralt, I can’t just spy on people…” He saw Geralt raising an eyebrow sarcastically and smirked. “I can’t just spy on people while you, my dear, are out there and in danger.”

Geralt shook his head tiredly and started walking past the bard. “No danger for me."

“Yeah, of course, o mighty Witcher, no danger at all!” Jaskier let his arms fall on his sides exasperated. “The last time you said that I had to drag you out of a swamp after those damn potions had you half-dead before you’d even noticed. You won’t even manage to be here before they wear off this time!”

Geralt didn’t bother to turn around; he just hummed and fastened his step. “I’ve already paid for dinner. I won’t be late.” He heard the bard heave a deep, resigned sigh and take some steps forwards before stopping. Again, he didn’t look around. If he did, he might regret leaving him. Yet he’d better brighten the moods of the people here if he wanted the witcher to get a decent payment. They were unsettling, the people. Dark, hostile glares, cautious words, a doubtful agreement. And Geralt didn’t bother, he really didn’t, he’d received many of those over the years and wouldn’t ever stop, no matter Jaskier’s honest attempts to improve this. He didn’t bother.

No, what actually pestered him and poked at his gut in the form of continuous uncertainty was the fact that those same glares, those same snarky words were also directed at Jaskier, albeit his charming smiles and kind words. They were hard times, people were suspicious, distanced. He knew. And it was not the first time they’d visited this kind of village together. And yet, it felt odd. Unsettling.

A scent of anxiety was floating in the air. It didn’t come from him.

He quickened his pace.

Geralt was late.

He was late and although Jaskier still wasn’t out of songs to perform, he gave up on trying cheering the sparse crowd of the inn. He set his lute aside and sat on the bench almost spiritless, taking a sip of ale and looking around attentively. He didn’t like the crowd; he’d worked with more enthusiastic ones admittedly. Those people were reserved, peculiar. Didn’t mouth a single song during the whole performance, didn’t crack a single smile. Jaskier could swear some hadn’t even turned their eyes on him. And if they did, their look was indifferent, almost hostile. There was no need to try gaining their trust any longer.

Apart from that, Jaskier was tired. They’d been travelling mostly on foot for almost a week now. Well, he was travelling on foot. And he longed for a soft bed and a good night’s sleep and would give his soul to actually go and sleep right now. But he couldn’t. Firstly, he couldn’t because he had to keep watching for the people here and he would even admit he felt shivers in the thought of going to sleep alone in an empty room in this particular inn. Not because of lacking defence, he perfectly knew how to defend himself, thank you very much. But still, it didn’t feel right to isolate himself here. Geralt was right. They were unsettling.

Secondly, he could not go to sleep because Geralt was late. And it was no big deal that he was late, it would not be the first time. What bothered him was that he said he wouldn’t be. That he was alone. And also the uncomfortable glances he received from time to time from the innkeeper, a couple of men sitting at the bar and another one who had just entered panting. Uncomfortable for him. For them, they probably felt rancorous.

He took another sip and stretched his ears without looking at them. He couldn’t discern any coherent phrases at first, only scattered words. Bard, together, coin, arriving. Mutant. Jaskier felt like he’d been punched in the gut, but not with force, only slightly, as a warning. A warning to get up and leave. He could pretty easily light up one of those amusing arguments he usually had about the wholesome humanity of witchers that most of the times ended in a fight which Geralt had to pull him from, and he was actually close to starting one more of them until he moved awkwardly on his seat and received another glare from one of the men that made him freeze in his tracks. He snorted silently, cleared his throat and slightly wriggled his foot to ensure the presence of a knife inside his boot. It was there.

He stood up as slowly as he could and, feeling all eyes fixed on his back, he headed to the door. He loved attention usually, but this was not the case. He had just passed by the men at the bar when he heard a voice behind him and started.

“Oi, bard! Where are you goin’?”

He turned around to the voice of the man at the bar and put on his kindest, least anxious smile. “You will excuse me, gentlemen, but I’m in need of some ai–”

“Shame.” The second man smiled malevolently and Jaskier glanced at the door, now guarded by another man much more huge than the three he hardly considered the chances of beating. He swallowed hard. The man kept talking undaunted. “Why won’t you sing us more songs of your monster friend? They’re so enchanting.”

Jaskier knew perfectly well this was no time for him to oppose. He did anyway. “My friend is no more of a monster than you are, you scum!” He clenched his fists and took advantage of the loud voice he previously held back from bursting. “He’s out there fighting what kills your children, saving their lives and yours!”

“Oh, we’re not much different then, you’re right.” The men stood in front of him and they were not three anymore, but he only could count up to five without his heart beating out of his chest. “You see, we too kill monsters. And anything that comes with them.”

Knives.

Fuck.

Jaskier ducked as the first blade whistled above his head and gripped his own knife, wasting no time as he stabbed the man on the back, leaving him screaming while he knifed another one’s thigh, trying to head to the door, now unguarded since everyone seemed to be after him. He had to remain composed, that’s what Geralt had told him to do during any fight. But with a dozen of men attacking him from all sides, this kind of advice was hardly practicable, damn you, Geralt. Another man came towards him and he raised his hand to strike but before he could move his arms were trapped in the man’s strong grip. Oh, that will hurt. He closed his eyes and smacked the man on the head with his own, having him stumble to the ground before he also saw the room swirling. He panted, shook his head. He was close to the door; if he reached he would find the handle. He did.

Then he felt pain burning his body and a knife came out bloody from his side.

It was an easy job, Geralt thought.

Not the first and definitely not the last kikimore he had killed during his long life.

Easy job.

And it would be. Yes, it would be if his damn sword hadn’t got lost in the lake until he found it again in despair, struggling for the life of him to escape the monster’s talons under the water with his breath shortening with every passing second. He had found the sword, thanks to the vibrations of his medallion, otherwise it would remain hidden under a cut off kikimore paw at the bottom of the lake and they wouldn’t even manage to bury him with it. He’d found it, and he’d stabbed the monster furiously, his patience and endurance barely hanging from a single thread. Then he had limped out of the lake, soaked to the bone, his thigh bleeding, cursing the moment he had taken up the contract because since then not a single thing had gone the right way.

And it didn’t have any intention to, as he realized quickly after walking a few meters. Because it was then when he felt the effects of the potions starting to wear off, and it was the least appropriate time, and he also cursed the moment he decided it would not harm to leave Roach behind. The village was less than a mile away and that was the only thought that kept him going. That and the fact that a bugging concern about nothing in particular kept poking on him since the second he stepped out of the village gates. Nothing had gone the right way. And it definitely didn’t have any intention to.

His legs felt heavier with each step. In his darkest hours, he would probably admit that Jaskier was right to question his decision to hunt all alone, as if he hadn't been for all those years before they met. This particular hour though still had not become one of those hours. It had good chances to, he thought as he cursed under his breath for the hundredth time the second he saw the gates popping out behind the trees. They were wide open, in contrast to the last two times he crossed them, and he would be a fair amount of suspicious about that if his mind could conceive any other thought than that of throwing himself onto a bed. He grunted and fastened his step as more as he could, feeling his body getting cold and his nape going numb.

He took one step past the gates and stopped. No guards. The streets were empty.

A cat hissed at him hidden in a corner.

And then loud voices and curses sounded from the far end of the street and before he even managed to consider them he felt something moving behind him and unsheathed his sword to strike. Only that the fading potions were muddling his movements. And he was slow. Not to slow to miss, but slow enough not to avoid the blade of a sword cutting through the armour and deep across his abdomen. He stumbled back as the beheaded body of the man before him fell on the ground and he shook his head, gathering as much strength he had left to strike another man that ran to attack him. The slash on his abdomen was barely burning, but the potions were still wearing off and, damn, it was deep. He parried and his sword was crossed with the man’s, but he pushed him hard before he twirled to repel another sword lowering on him. They were four, maybe five; he shook his head again and grunted, trying to retain his consciousness. The cut was now burning, and it was bleeding, and he could feel it. It certainly didn’t make things any better. He parried, and attacked, and dodged again and almost lost his step and he could have been dead if the man attacking him didn’t suddenly gape in pain and stumble to the ground with a knife protruding from his back. Geralt squinted, he thought he heard galloping. Three men were circling him now. He heard his name.

He knew this knife.

The men scattered in fear and he just managed to look up and catch the hand reaching for him before he was under the horse’s hooves. Instead, he found himself on the horse’s saddle. He grunted. Roach’s saddle. And in front of him Jaskier, in his bright yellow doublet, staring at him with eyes wide with terror and calling his name.

“Geralt! Geralt, answer me, hey, Ger–”

“What?!” He swayed slightly and wrapped his hands around the bard’s waist. He saw him sighing with relief, but the tension didn’t leave his body. Geralt frowned, feeling hot liquid flowing between his fingers. “Why are you…” He raised his hand, saw blood flowing down his hand, and his heart fluttered as he looked at Jaskier again. “You’re bleeding.”

An arrow ripped the air beside them, and then a second. Jaskier reined Roach and huffed humorlessly. “Yeah, I noticed. You too.”

“Jaskier!” He wanted to keep talking but another arrow whipped above their heads and Jaskier led Roach into the forest without slowing their pace, and Geralt was exhausted and numb. He snorted and rested his forehead on Jaskier’s shoulder with a hum. “What happened?”

“Oh, don't fret… Nothing out of the usual.” Jaskier’s voice was softer than before, and bitter, and the bard smiled instinctively as he felt Geralt’s warm breath on the back of his neck. Warming the coldness the pain had thrown his body into. He cupped the witcher’s hand on his waist with his own. “Sleep now, dear. Sleep.”

Geralt didn’t have the voice to object. He closed his eyes. The arrows stopped whipping.

He didn't know how long he was unconscious. He would either walk in complete darkness or stumble in and out of vivid dreams that left him trembling and sweating, dreams and nightmares, even the ones that hadn't visited him for a long time. Every now and then he would catch glimpses of a different place, one much more peaceful than that of his dreams, where he would lay on the ground and a soft, familiar voice would hum beside him, and he thought the voice was shaking and breaking sometimes, just like it did in his nightmares, the same voice. He didn't want it to shake, it was not right.

Yet he couldn't do anything about it. Only to escape. So he slept again, for he preferred to hear that voice shaking only in his nightmares. At least those he knew were not real.

He barely managed to crack his eyes open once before the pain hit him like a wave, reminding him why he was not awake. He tilted his head, searching with his look for something, he didn’t even know what. But he had to find it, because he couldn’t hear the voice anymore, and his heart skipped a beat and he tried to raise himself on his elbows, but fell back with a wince and then the voice was there, beside him, placing a hand on his chest to keep him back, smelling of tears and blood. It was not right. It should smell of lavender and wildflowers. It should sound bright and clear and warm, like the sun on the back of his neck. Now it was broken, and whispering like a wail. But he heard it and at least, at least, it was still warm.

“Sleep, Geralt. Sleep, dear. I’m here.”

In his darkest hours, the voice was right. So again, he closed his eyes.

It was the sound of cicadas that woke him at dusk, and at last, no pain accompanied the return of his senses. He guessed it was the cicadas anyway, and not the sudden feeling of overwhelming warmth and the little bit of extra weight that was added upon his chest. He snorted and half-opened his eyes, his gaze meeting the red-painted sky reigning behind the trees. A sudden neigh was heard near him and he turned his head, resting on a pile of blankets, to see Roach sensing him awake and wiggling her tail. He hummed. She did that.

And then it went silent.

The cicadas had not stopped singing, neither had the last birds chirping on the trees. Still, the sound he expected to hear when he woke up, feeling as expectable as the fact that he would be laying on the ground, was now yet to be heard. If he had fully come to his senses, he wouldn’t probably freeze with a momentary panic that pierced his skin, only to be reminded of the warmth on his side and the weight of his chest by a flinch and look down to see Jaskier’s dishevelled head rested on him and his shoulders shaking softly with sharp breathing. He swallowed. That was way too close.

Yet he found himself barely minding at all, as an arbitrary hand was raised and he gently tangled his fingers on Jaskier’s tawny locks. Suddenly the weight on his chest felt too heavy. He could have this. He wanted to have this. He could think of every morning he would wake up like this, with a warm breath against his skin and the smell of lavender he so loved. He could think of every night he would go to sleep with a low, sweet voice whispering or singing beside him, about him. Oh, how he loved that voice. If it was up to him, he would never let it shake and tremble again. Just like it did in his nightmares. Just like it did when he’d heard it that day. Just like it did… now.

“Geralt, please…”

His fingers stopped moving between the locks and he caught a glimpse of the bard’s face, distorted in an expression of fear and pain. He’d seen that expression again. Didn’t like it, not at all.

His arm embraced Jaskier’s trembling shoulder and he shook him slightly, and then shook again. Nightmares had to go away, even if he would wake up breathless and sick. He shook again. Jaskier flinched, mumbled, and the trembling stopped. He went silent for a second. And then he jerked up, his cheeks painted pink and he looked around in sweat, finally resting his eyes on Geralt and almost sobbing.

“Oh, thank the gods!” His eyes were wide and he felt his fingers shaking with tension. Geralt didn’t speak, he just tilted his head, his look fixed on him intensely. He heaved a deep sigh of relief and shook his head. “Don’t you dare do this again, I won’t ever again stay behind if I’m to find you half-dead once again, you understand?” He drew closer to a still silent Geralt and pushed him back on the blankets. He met no resistance and smiled shortly, raising his eyebrow at the witcher and unbuttoning his shirt to examine the bandage.

Geralt sighed and rested his head back. This man was really stopped by nothing, as he realized while unable to take his eyes off him. Gods, he was beautiful, cheeks flushed and eyes still hazy from sleep, like a child that had just woken up, although he was far from being one. And yet a weird feeling was punching his gut, a feeling that, as he looked into those cornflower-blue eyes, something was out of place. He snorted, returning his attention to the undaunted rambling beside him. “Jaskier…”

“But, of course, I know, no danger for you, o mighty Witcher, you need no one et cetera, et cetera, well look at you now!” Jaskier unwrapped the bandage to reveal a scar whose redness was the only thing reminding of the wound that had been there. He pointed at it without taking his eyes off Geralt. “Do you have any idea how deep was that thing? It took the sweat of my forehead to clean and tend to it, all the while you were mumbling nonsense and having those horrible dreams of yours. Oh, Geralt, I can’t stand watching you have nightmares, it breaks my poor heart.” He shook his head, throwing the bandage aside and deepening his voice in imitation as he made to stand up. “No danger for me; whatever, if it weren’t for those damn potions –”

He stopped abruptly as he put his foot on the ground, winced with a sharp breath and fell on the grass again. He saw Geralt frowning and his eyes flashing as if he remembered something. And he did, because he lowered his look on Jaskier’s right side where the shirt was painted red with blood and his heart skipped a beat. Jaskier swallowed, cleared his throat and made to stand up again.

“What was I saying? Ah, yes, the potions…”

A hand wrapping around his forearm stopped him and he looked at Geralt almost with guilt. Geralt waited for a moment, as if for Jaskier to stop him, then loosened his grip and drew closer. Jaskier shook his head.

“Really, Geralt, I’m fine, just applied one of those salves of yours –”

“Just let me see it.”

Geralt’s voice was low, and calm, calmer than usual, and his golden eyes pierced Jaskier like blades. He looked at him for a moment, then snorted resigned, lowering his eyes and unbuttoned his shirt. He’d taken care of the wound, he didn’t want it to matter anyway, this whole thing was about Geralt taking care of himself, about him being damn careful, not one stupid stab of the several Jaskier had experienced in his short life. And yet, it hurt, it hurt a lot now that he moved and he’d be damned if he didn’t admit it. He glanced at Geralt who was now kneeled before him as if he hadn’t been comatose five minutes ago. He shook his head.

“I would use a bit of your healing abilities, if you should know,” he chuckled but any hint of humour left his voice when he felt Geralt’s calloused fingers unwrapping the bandage and gently pressing the skin around the wound. He closed his eyes, sighed shakily and then hissed, as the witcher’s soft touch sent a wave of pain through his body.

Geralt looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

Jaskier let out a silent huff and nodded. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Not just that.” Geralt looked at him for a second longer, then wrapped the bandage again around the bard’s waist and drew an inch back, avoiding his eyes. “I’m sorry for leaving you there. I knew the people were up to no good.” He paused and glanced up for a moment. The faint smile curving Jaskier’s lips warmed his chest like a fire. He shook his head. “I should have guessed.”

Silence fell. Unusual state for the bard, a state that made Geralt fidget with the fabric of his shirt like a child waiting to be scolded and then get angry at himself for being such a fool even now, still avoiding Jaskier’s eyes, as if the smile he previously saw was no more than an illusion. He didn't know what he was waiting for. So he made to stand up.

And then a warm hand was cupping his cheek and he froze and finally, finally raised his look and almost drowned in the sea of the bard's eyes, and Jaskier smiled, oh so lovingly, and shook his head.

"You are an idiot, Geralt of Rivia. You think that, eventually, you are all alone and will be until the end of your days. You say you don’t need anyone and yet, here I am, bandaging your wounds and singing your triumphs. You need people and you care about them more than you say you do, but refuse to admit any of it, and you harm yourself in the end. Tell me I’m wrong."

Geralt swallowed. He could feel Jaskier's fingers shaking, then lingering on his face for some seconds before slipping away and he almost whimpered in the absence of warmth he suddenly noticed. He felt as if he had been laid down and cut in half to reveal every feeling storming in his heart, even those he didn’t know he had. Even those he said he didn’t have. He moved his lips, as if to protest, as if any sound was ever able to come out of his mouth while he looked at Jaskier. As if the bard was wrong.

Oh.

He was not wrong.

Jaskier felt his fingers twitching on the witcher’s knee and swallowed around a lump in his throat. He huffed and lowered his look with a shake of his head.

“Maybe I’m wrong. You’re the only one who can tell. But if I’m right about one thing,” his gaze met Geralt’s again and he smiled, “it’s that you’re not alone in this, Geralt. And I don’t know about other people, but I know that I’m going to be there, to drag you from swamps, to sing about you, to talk until you go mad. You can’t get rid of me.” Jaskier laughed as he saw Geralt’s lips curving a bit without taking his golden eyes off him. He tilted his head. “So since you’re never going to stop pouring that stuff into your body,” he pointed at the saddlebag containing the potions, “at least don’t leave me behind again. And I’m not asking you either.”

Geralt’s eyes were shining, Jaskier noticed as the last light of the sunset vanished on the horizon. They were shining with a glow he’d rarely seen before, and it was so beautiful he felt shivers running down his spine. And he waited for an answer, but Geralt rarely was one to give answers, so he made to button up his still-open shirt. But then a hand was on his wrist and he raised his head flustered to see Geralt lowering their entwined hands back on his knee, and smiling. His skin was warm.

“Thank you, Jaskier.”

A wild shade of pink painted the bard’s cheeks and Geralt knew certain feelings he said he didn’t have were dancing inside him. Jaskier’s blue eyes were shining as he chuckled and squeezed his hand.

“Any time.”

The sun had set.

Geralt rarely left him behind after that. And if he did, he would return before the potions wore off. And Jaskier would still be there.

#geraltwhumpweek #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt x dandelion #the witcher tv #the witcher netflix #the witcher fic #fic recs #chrysa writes #my fics

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bumblesimagines · 5 years

Text

Listen Before I Go

Request: Yes or No

There are gonna be a bunch of different lyrics at the start and end of the fics (mostly from Listen Before I Go lol)

Summary: After getting kicked out by his ex, (Y/N) finds a place to stay at while he looks for his own place. His boss, and best friend, tells him her cousin owns a place with a spare room. (Y/N) moves in and attempts to avoid the other tenants but Gael has other plans.

Take me to the rooftop

I wanna see the world when I stop breathing, turning blue

Tell me love is endless, don't be so pretentious

Leave me like you do

You continued to write draw in your notebook, coping the buildings and streets. The mixture of smoke from your cigarette and the music coming from your headphones filled your senses. Callie, a new tenant, watched as you drew quietly. You didn't mind her presence since she didn't bother you or ask too many questions.

"Maybe I'll work up the courage to get a tattoo and go to you." Callie said, finishing her wine. You sent her a smile, glancing at her innocent face. She returned the smile before excusing herself back to her room. You took your cigarette away from your lips, holding it between your middle and index finger. The smoke drifted past your lips and up into the air, the wind taking it away. You began to space out, remembering exactly why you had to live at The Coterie.

"I bought the place! It's my fucking apartment!" Josh screamed. You stared at him in disbelief.

"You're the one who fucking cheated on me and I'm the one being kicked out?!" You shook your head, throwing your hands up.

"You know what? Fuck it, I don't care! I'll gladly leave your ass."

You snapped back to reality when you heard water splashing. You glanced back at the male swimming before focusing on your notebook. You began to shade the drawing, squinting your eyes slightly as you attempted to focus with eyes on your bare back. You could hear the water splashing against the edges and swallowed, dry throat aching.

"You're finally out of your room." You looked away from your paper, looking at the soaking man. You shrugged lightly, looking back at your paper. You used the pencil as a bookmark and closed your notebook.

"How come you never talk to us?" Gael asked. You had been a little dry.

You sighed, returning from a long shift at the shop. You had lots of appointments and some walk-ins.

"Oh! You're finally home! Guys, this is the newest tenant, (Y/N)!" Alice introduced you to the others. Some waved, others smiled, and some simply nodded. A handsome guy approached you.

"I'm Gael." You nodded, glancing at his hand.

"I'm gonna be in my room.. I had a long day." You said quietly, mostly to Alice, before heading to your room. You were still hurting from the sudden breakup.

"I.. I'm just.. Trying to get over stuff." You replied softly, moving away from the bricked wall. You butted out your cigarette, letting it drop to the floor.

"You might not know us well enough, but we're here if you ever need to talk." Gael said softly, eyes holding a comforting shine. You nodded, walking away from him. You headed to your room, entering and closing the door behind you. With a sigh, you collapsed onto your bed, tossing your notebook onto the desk nearby.

You smiled, listening to Paloma rant about a cilent. You chuckled quietly, coloring the drawing from the night before.

"I can't handle some of these people! Like, your man is the one who came asking for a tattoo. If you don't want another bitch touching him, do it yourself!" She huffed. You looked up, hearing two knocks on your slightly open door.

"Hold on, Lo." You said before putting her on pause. Gael gave you a small smile.

"You should smile more often." He said.

"Did you need something?" You asked, continuing to work on your drawing.

"It's time for dinner."

"I'm not hungry, I ate earlier." You glanced up at him. Gael hummed.

"You're gonna have to talk to everyone eventually." You looked at him, standing up and approaching him.

"Yeah, it'll be later rather than sooner. Goodnight, Martinez." You pushed him back slightly before attempting to close your door but Gael pushed against it. You sighed, pulling it back.

"Fine, I'll eat with you then."

"What?" You asked but Gael walked away from you. Before you knew it, Gael returned with a plate. Your lips parted, watching him enter you room and sit at your empty desk. Thankfully you had organized it in the morning. You gave up, knowing he wouldn't budge. You closed the door and went back to your bed, unpausing Paloma.

"Finally, wey! Why'd you pause me?" Paloma asked. You glanced at Gael.

"Can I say hi?" Gael stood up, climbing onto the bed and resting his head on your shoulder.

"Oh? Who's this?"

"Gael, he's a tenant." You said, watching Paloma raise her slitted brows. You nudged Gael off.

"Go eat your food, I don't want the mice in my room." You mumbled. Gael did so, eating his food with a cheeky grin. Paloma hummed, a smug look at her face. You rolled your eyes.

"Didn't you have some bad news, or something?" You asked. Paloma's smugness dropped and was replaced with a frown.

"Yeah... Someone stopped by today.." Your eyes drifted from your paper to her face as you slowly stopped coloring.

"Who?"

"Josh." You licked your lips, inhaling softly. "Oh."

"Yeah.. I told him you moved into a different part of the city, far from where you're at now. He won't be bugging you, I promise." Paloma assured. You nodded, feeling Gael's eyes on you. He silently stood, plate in hand before leaving. Gael returned, sitting on the bed and watching you, deep in thought.

"How many clients do I have tomorrow?" You asked, scratching the nape of your neck, a habit of yours when you were uncomfortable.

"Uh, like about.." Paloma looked away from her phone, the sound of shuffling paper coming from the phone.

"Four cilents.. You'll probably get off early if there aren't any walk-ins." Paloma replied. You hummed before the sound of a baby crying made you flinch. Paloma chuckled, giving you an amused grin.

"Mommy duties, I'll see you tomorrow." She said before hanging up. You smiled gently, turning off your phone and going back to the drawing.

"Cilents? Where do you work at?" Gael asked, moving so he was beside you.

"Tattoo shop." You replied softly, finishing the drawing. Gael hummed, his interest being elsewhere.

"If you don't mind me asking, who's Josh?" Gael asked, voice becoming soft.

"My ex."

"Damn, is he bothering you?" He asked. You shrugged.

"I blocked his number and social media. He's the one who kicked me out anyways." You said, snapping a picture of the finished product and posting it.

"Why are you always so.. Alone? You don't like us?" You remained silent, flipping through your pages. "Or do you think you're better than us?"

"I don't want to get attached to anyone. Especially fuckboys." You looked at him. Gael cocked his head.

"Attached? As in-"

"Thinking I can trust them and then getting backstabbed." You clarified, eyes hardening.

"You talk to Callie-"

"Yeah, cause she spills everything to everyone. I already know her backstory and I didn't even have to ask. I like people like her." You said. Gael straightened up.

"I have-"

"I don't wanna know your life story, Gael. Just like I don't wanna be friends, with you or anyone here. Why bother when everyone's gonna leave eventually?" You looked back down at your paper, saying the last part quietly and to yourself but Gael heard it.

"You'll be a card nut to crack but you'll crack, eventually." He stood up from the bed, giving you a smile as he headed towards your bedroom door and opened it.

"Night, (Y/N)." With that, he closed the door, leaving you in silence.

Sorry can't save me now

Sorry I don't know how

Sorry there's no way out (sorry)

But down

Hmm, down

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male!reader #good trouble x male reader #good trouble x reader #good trouble #good trouble x y/n #gael martinez x male reader #gael martinez x reader #gael martinez #gael Martinez x you #gael Martinez x y/n #the fosters #callie foster #mariana foster #alice kwan #the coterie

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brokenjardaantech · 3 years

Text

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 5: The Threads of Life)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

chapter summary:

In the past, Alec revealed his plan.

In the present, Connor made a choice... and a friend.

In the past, the twins finally reunited.

also on ao3

---

Before

Reyes was unharmed. On the surface. Fadia was more concerned about the blue washing over his skin every second in waves like a heartbeat, and when she looked at the scene in front of her, she instantly knew why.

Her father was there. And so was a young woman with blond hair. When she tapped into her powers and reached out, the resonance itself was enough to tell her that she was just like Reyes.

An android.

Reyes’ jaw was trembling. ‘I… I didn’t…’ he stammered, his voice low. ‘I swear -’

‘I know,’ she reassured. She trusted him, and his data logs told her that he had had no contact with Alec Ryder. ‘I’ll take over from here. You go over my servers and see what’s wrong with them. I’ll tell you what happened later.’

Reyes nodded and left, presumably back to the surface. Back to Scott. And she finally let her blood boil.

‘Explain!’ she demanded as she walked closer towards her father while glowing blue. When she had his attention, she flicked her head towards the android. ‘How did you get that?’

‘The question is,’ how could he look so calm? ‘why did you hide this from me?’

Fadia made a chopping motion at the android. ‘To prevent this! How did you get that?’

‘Listen, the biocomponents -’

‘How.’ She let tendrils creep closer to her father’s neck. ‘Did. You.’ They got closer with every word, and had she not been occupied with the current situation, she would have impressed herself with the control. ‘Get. THAT?’

‘They can save your mother, Sara!’ Alec exclaimed. ‘A cure! Finally!’

‘Oh yeah, cause biocomponents for an android invented by an edgy young adult with minimum chemistry and biology knowledge are gonna be compatible with an actual fucking human body!’ Fadia had to roll her eyes. Damn, it’s good to be able to raise her voice. ‘Mother’s accepted her impending doom, Father. Let her fucking go.’

‘That’s not -’ he sighed as if she was a child unable to understand how important her parent’s work was. ‘Look, artificial intelligence is the new thing. A new merchandise. Think about it, Sara. The revenue alone will be enough to pay for the medical bills.’

He disgusted her. ‘They are as human as we are, not something to buy and sell like products. If you want to go on with that crazy fucking plan, you’ll have to get through me.’

Alec sighed almost regretfully. ‘I’m afraid it’s too late.’

Fadia’s brain kicked into full gear at the implications of his words. She shot out a tendril again to test the thirium capacity of the android, and the resonance told her that she had been active for at least a week. ‘What is your name?’ she asked. ‘What did he make you do?’

‘My name is Chloe,’ the android answered. ‘I took some videos and uploaded them onto the internet, that’s all. You, Sara Ryder, are credited with my creation.’

‘We already have millions of dollars,’ Alec added. ‘Production has already started. Are you in this or not?’

A crackle. She punched him in the face with a blue-shrouded fist and seemed to calm down instantly.

‘Of course I am,’ she said in a pleasant tone. ‘Someone must keep the world from burning into ashes.’

o0o0o

Now

The Zen Garden is raining and Connor is not surprised. Umbrella in hand, he examines the monolith once more, the blue glow making it easily identifiable among the green of vegetation. He also stands in front of his first body’s grave for a few seconds to… calm down, maybe, from the tingling that has been in his veins since he returned to CyberLife tower. It is only after he makes sure that his hand will not glow blue suddenly that he greets his handler.

‘Connor, I’ve been expecting you,’ Amanda says, her voice cold. ‘Would you like a little walk?’

Connor knows he does not have a choice, so he opens the umbrella and holds it for both of them.

‘That deviant seems to be an intriguing case,’ Amanda continues. ‘A pity you didn’t manage to capture it.’

‘I have to save Hank,’ he replies. Surely Amanda understands? ‘Despite his… eccentricities, I believe his intellect and experience will be useful in the investigation.’

Amanda hums. ‘Did you manage to learn anything?’

A few pieces of evidence automatically filter through his processors. ‘It was working under a false identity, at a nearby urban farm. This was the first time we've seen deviants blending in with the human population. Who knows how many others there are like it… I also found its diary, but it was encrypted. It may take months to decipher.’

‘What else?’

‘The walls of the apartment were covered with drawings of labyrinths and other symbols. Like the other deviants, it seemed obsessed with rA9. It was also fascinated by birds. We've seen deviants interested in other lifeforms like insects or pets, but nothing like this.’

‘You came very close to capturing the deviant. How is your relationship with the Lieutenant developing?’

He remembers a warm hand on his back. ‘He seemed grateful that I saved his life on the roof. He didn't say anything, but he expressed it in his own way.’

Amanda turns to face him. ‘We don’t have much time. Deviancy continues to spread. It's only a matter of time before the media finds out about it. We need to stop this, whatever it takes.’

For Hank. ‘I will solve this investigation, Amanda.’

Thunder rumbles. Amanda looks up. ‘A new case just came in. Find Anderson and investigate it.’

oOoOo

Hank is not in the precinct.

‘He’s not drinking?’ the same officer from last time asks. ‘Sorry, man, but then I don’t know where he is.’

The more time they lose, the more likely the deviants manage to get away from the club, but still Connor thanks him for his input as it is a polite thing to do. He looks around Hank’s desk, trying to search for clues that can lead him to Hank, but he gives up after the results come inconclusive for the fifth time. So where can he be?

‘Connor?’

Connor lets colour return to his world and sees a familiar face. [Name: Allen, Louis. [REDACTED]] ‘Captain,’ he greets, unsure what to do. It is obvious that the human is off duty: sweaters and jeans are not exactly regulation for a SWAT Captain even on duty. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I thought you were dead.’

‘Androids do not die, Captain.’

Allen’s nod is followed by a sigh. ‘You looking for Hank?’

‘Yes. Do you know where he went? He was assigned a new case.’

‘He’s probably out of commission for now,’ Allen says as he shifts his weight onto another leg, ‘but I’m gonna drop off some groceries at his anyway. We can try his home.’

Hank’s house. Right. How can he miss that? ‘I do not wish to interrupt, Captain.’

‘You won’t be.’

Some of the files are corrupted, but Connor remembers the Captain’s distrust towards his ability in resolving the hostage situation, an angry ‘I don’t fucking care what my orders are! If this drags on, we’re doing it our way!’, and the lack of mentions of him taking the officer’s gun in the official report to both the police department and CyberLife. A contradiction that Connor decides to risk. ‘Then thank you, Captain.’

Allen jerks his head to indicate the direction they should be heading to. ‘It’s Louis when I’m off duty.’

The pronunciation ‘Lwee’ is certainly not standard for English speakers. ‘Yes, Louis.’

They take the lift down to the car park together, Louis shifting his feet from one to another but seemingly favouring his right leg, and when he walks, his steps brisk, there is a small but faint clicking noise that normal humans will not catch on. When he tries to scan the human’s left leg, results come back inconclusive. Just like the person who hacked into the Zen Garden and… and…

‘You alright there?’

Louis’ words bring him back to reality, and Connor discovers that they have already arrived at their destination. The human is already in the car, his hand hovering above the controls, and his green eyes are fixed on Connor’s face as if it is something interesting to look at. Observe and catalogue.

‘I’m sorry,’ Connor apologises in lieu of explaining his thoughts. He slides into the passenger seat, they fasten their respective seatbelts, and Louis starts driving manually despite his vehicle being a self-driving car. Time passes in relative silence, the contrast between the darkness and the bright lights in the streets plus the concentration of the driver giving Connor a strange sense of familiarity, but soon they are stuck in a traffic jam near one of the bigger intersections.

Louis taps his fingers against the wheel. ‘Hey, Connor.’

Connor faces the Captain and finds him looking at the android. ‘Yes, Louis?’

‘I’m sorry for what happened a few months ago. It wasn’t fair to you.’

His LED spins yellow as he tries to recall what exactly happened. ‘It was an expected response,’ Connor replies after comparing it with the ones faced by other androids in the streets. ‘There’s nothing to apologise for.’

‘Doesn’t excuse me for yelling at the wrong guy. It - it wasn’t you whom I’m pissed at.’

Connor knows that the human is not going to let go unless he himself drops the issue. ‘I accept your apology,’ he says, and he decides that diverting the conversation is the next best choice of action. ‘May I ask you a personal question?’

The car in front of them moves. Louis manages to gain a few inches of ground. ‘Go on.’

‘During the hostage situation… who or what were you “pissed” at?’

The human rubs his left thigh as if to get more blood into it. ‘CyberLife, mostly,’ he checks the time. ‘I may be more specific than most.’

So he is not anti-android? ‘What difference does that make from hating androids?’

‘People like to blame the powerless for the problems they have. In this case, it’s the androids.’ The radio drones on and announces that they’re likely to be stuck for the next fifteen minutes. Seemingly resigned to his fate, Louis reaches to Connor’s side and opens the storage compartment, rummaging for a few seconds inside before successfully acquiring an energy bar which he tears into like a starving man. Perhaps he is. ‘They always talk about how androids steal their jobs, but they never talk about how employers decide to move onto even cheaper alternatives once they can’t exploit their workers. If they want someone to hate, hate those arseholes who won’t pay a living wage, hate CyberLife for producing androids. The androids are innocent in all this. So yeah,’ he takes a deep breath as if just realising he was ranting, ‘I don’t hate them.’

‘How about Daniel?’

A swallow. ‘He killed two people, wounded two more and held an innocent girl hostage. Enough to warrant my hate.’ He finishes the energy bar and crushes the wrapper into his pocket. Looking at Connor, he seems to read his question from the android’s face as he continues, ‘You’re good.’

Connor lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s holding. Louis Allen, SWAT Captain, is not anti-android. ‘What is your relationship with Hank?’ he asks as he finds no reason for the two men to be friends. Not that Louis explicitly said he is friends with Hank, but Connor supposes that bringing enough groceries to require a car is not typical behaviour for non-friends.

Fidgeting with the silencer of a pair of identification tags (Allen. Anna, W. 574-66-2183. RH negative. Atheist.) which were hidden underneath his clothes until now, Louis seems to actually ponder on his answer. ‘We keep each other afloat,’ he says in the end. ‘It’s hard to describe. Why do you want to know?’

‘I believe getting closer to the Lieutenant personally will be beneficial to the investigation.’ The human snorts at this and Connor is nearly offended: what does a SWAT Captain know about them? ‘You seem close to him, so I believe you are a reliable source in matters including the Lieutenant’s personality and habits.’

Louis rubs the tags together. ‘His story isn’t mine to tell. Let’s say I make sure he doesn’t consume crappy takeout and whiskey 24/7, he tries to stay sober on schedule in case my leg acts up and I nearly freeze to death again, so we kind of rely on each other to survive the winter.’ They finally pass the traffic light just to stop at the other one. ‘Is this the best arrangement? No. But is it working? Yes. I think. He’s saved my arse a few times already. He’s a good guy, smart too, just...’

‘Have some personal issues?’

‘That’s one way to put it.’

They lapse into silence, the rain falling onto the roof and the ting of the coin the only sound in the car. Sometime later, when they finally get out of the traffic jam, Louis’ watch blares from an alarm, and the human jumps and hastily switches it off with a mumbled apology. The embarrassment does not last long, however, after they rounded the final corner and the car is set for a course straight to the end of the road where Connor presumes Hank’s house is. The Captain’s eyes sharpen, his gaze flickering between the road in front of him and the rearview mirror, and the air crackles even though Connor is certain that he is keeping his… abilities under tight control. Is Louis…

He finds his coin snatched from the air. When something is placed in his palm, the android finds a key as well, the soft rumble of the engine gone and completely overtaken by the sound of raindrops hitting the vehicle. The tension in Louis’ body reminds him of the hostage situation.

‘You go find Hank and do what you need to do,’ the human says, his tone low. ‘I’ll follow you later.’

‘And the groceries?’

‘They can wait. Something’s out of place and I’m not sure if I like it. I’ll go take a look.’

Connor wants to argue that if they are heading into any danger, he should be the one to take the risk, but the human is already out of the car and has slammed the door shut. He quickly exits the car as well and locks the doors but is still not quick enough; Louis has already disappeared into the darkness beyond the end of the road. Seeing no other option other than to continue with his mission, he files [Louis is reckless.] into his database and proceeds to ring the bell as, despite having the keys, he technically is showing up uninvited. From within the house, a dog starts to bark, and he lets himself in after nothing else responds to the fourth ring.

oOoOo

Five minutes later, Connor uses up most of his processing power in order to keep himself from being overwhelmed with anxiety. Firstly, there is the sound of Hank retching in the bathroom; secondly, there is the implication of the revolver and the single bullet in the chamber (‘What were you doing with the gun?’ ‘Russian roulette!’): Hank has suicidal tendencies, and he finds that he does not want to lose Hank; thirdly, the child in the photo is probably related to the previous point; fourthly, Louis is not back yet and Connor realises that he has no way to contact him. He wants to tell himself that it was just paranoia, but when he recalled the footage from when they exited the car, there was indeed a shadow disappearing from view upon Louis starting his chase.

The same shadow which had been following him when he first met Hank and during his search for Ortiz’s android.

The beat of his thirium pump quickening, he holds Sumo tight in his arms from where he is sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa and searches the DPD database for any contact information, but all he gets is Louis’ work email and phone, the former which he doubts the Captain will check and the latter not even with him in the first place. There is no address, no personal phone number. It is as if he does not exist outside of his work.

This is definitely not protocol. Sure, people can request to hide their information in case they have someone going after them, but for Louis’ case there is nothing even though Connor is already using the highest level authorisation code to access the file, which means that it is highly likely that there is truly no data in the first place.

‘You alright there, Connor?’

Connor startles and quickly releases Sumo from his embrace. ‘I - I’m fine,’ he stutters, unsure how to explain that he managed to lose Hank’s friend.

Hank nods but he does not look convinced. ‘Are we heading out? Cause if we’re not -’

‘I’m coming!’ Connor scrambles to his feet and fixes his tie to compose himself. In a much calmer tone this time, he tells himself, ‘I’m ready.’

That convinces Hank. ‘Be a good dog, Sumo,’ Connor is relieved that he is not the only one to talk to a dog, ‘I won’t be long.’

They leave the house together, Connor locking the door behind him as he is the last one to get out, and that only brings him back to the matter of where Louis is.

‘Louis’ been here?’ Hank asks when he spots the much newer car (although as one of the first generation self-driving cars, it is a bit outdated) parked on the side of the road.

‘He offered to drive me here when I told him that I could not find you in the bars,’ it feels wrong to say it out loud, but Hank needs to know where his friend is. ‘He asked me to find you while he investigated a potential stalker. Evidently, he is not back yet.’

‘How long has he been gone?’

‘About seven minutes.’

Hank checks his phone. ‘No messages yet,’ he mutters to himself. ‘We’ll go downtown first. I’ll send a rescue party if there’s nothing after we’re finished with this bullshit.’

That’s it? ‘The temperature is dropping, Lieutenant,’ are you not concerned? ‘Louis does not have sufficient gear to keep himself safe under this weather.’

‘Ugh,’ Hank moans. ‘He does that. All we can do is save his ass afterwards.’ He then mutters something under his breath but it is drowned out by the sound of him folding himself into the car and the ongoing rain. Deciding that he does not like the rain, he locks the doors of Louis’ car just to be safe before climbing into Hank’s and is handed another set of keys.

He can start a collection out of this.

oOoOo

‘Sorry, honey, changed my mind! Uh - Nothing personal, you’re… a lovely girl, I just - uh - You know, I’m with him and - I mean, not with him like that… I’m not that… That’s not what I… You, um, wow, I just… got a job to do.’

Connor has to hide a smile by looking away from the sheer… something… of the situation. They’re in a sex club, his programme tells him that something is repulsive about it, and Hank doesn’t look so happy about being there either, but yet those are not what he’s feeling right now. Endearment, maybe. It’s confusing and is making his software so unstable that the red tinge around the edge of his HUD is a permanent fixture except for when he is scanning his surroundings for the next android to probe. He deduces which one he should ask Hank to rent next according to the direction the blue-haired Traci was heading, but of course, of fucking course the last witness they need is the WG700 cleaning android, the recording leading them through the staff door. The corridor’s decor is completely different from that of the rest of the club and there is another door at the end, and when they both hear the bangs and scrapes of metal against concrete from the other side, Hank takes the lead again, this time without words, and, gun in hand, opens the door with a loud squeak. Still, they step in quietly.

There is no movement at all.

Hank curses loudly, thinking that the deviant has got away, but Connor can see the still-visible thirium on the floor, which means that she is not only injured but also not far away. He swipes to take a sample and licks it, and the report returns positive of thirium belonging to a WR400 model.

‘They get used till they break, then they got tossed out…’ Hank says from somewhere. ‘The more I know about humans, the more I like my dog.’

He follows the trail of blue blood to a group of Tracis and instantly notices the spinning LED lighting up a blue mop of hair. Before he can react, the Traci standing in front of her lashes out and pushes him against a pillar. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to realign and the brief struggle is enough for Hank to pull out his gun and order the short-haired Traci to surrender, but then he is ambushed by the blue-haired one as well, and Connor somehow manages to throw the one he is facing to the other side of the nearest crate in a flash of blue light which charges their air with static. He jumps over the box, determined to capture at least one deviant this time, but the Traci kicks him in his feet before he lands on the pallet, the two of them rolling until the former is on top of him and is countered every single time she tries to punch him in the head. A counterattack from Connor and the Traci toppled, her hand landing right on a knife; a grab, a flash of blue, and it appears in Connor’s shoulder and severs a few minor tubes. Pushing her off, he blocks the kick aimed for his groin and barely manages to stand up before pulling the knife out and throwing it far out of their reach. Putting the Traci in a headlock earns him a harsh headbutt which knocks his eyes out of place slightly again, so he pulls a rack down to buy himself some time to readjust his vision. When it is not enough to stop the deviant, he drags a cart in front of him, but a kick from the deviant on it sends him tumbling, and Connor kicks a stool against her leg and uses the momentum to crash her through the plastic curtain, the Traci grappling unsuccessfully for his face and bringing them closer and closer to the edge. An opening, a flash of blue from Connor, and both of them crash out to the rain in a mess on the asphalt. His nerves tingling, he sees the blue-haired Traci abandon Hank and slides off to help the other deviant up, and that’s when he notices it.

They never let go of each other afterwards.

Hank rushes out just to get pushed against the wall by two androids, and, seeing that the human won’t regain his balance anytime soon, Connor gets up to his feet and chases the two Tracis, pulling one of them off the fence and knocking the other to the side. He gets caught in a headlock, his arm trembles from the impact against the bat, and he launches himself towards the brown-haired Traci from the force of dislodging her companion. There are hands on his shoulders, in his hair, slamming him against the wall once, twice, thrice with crackles of static before he loses balance with the deviant on his right and they both fall onto the ground straight into a gun’s reach. He picks it up, points it at the brown-haired Traci and -

A slight moment of hesitation earns him a kick in his face. The Tracis don’t seem to want to fight anymore, and he stares in shock both from the sudden change of pace and his own actions, making his software more unstable and pushing him towards -

‘When that man broke the other Traci,’ Connor forces himself to concentrate on her words, ‘I knew I was next. I was so scared,’ her LED spins blue. ‘I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t.’ She lowers her gaze. ‘So I put my hands around his throat and squeezed… until he stopped moving.

‘I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to stay alive,’ behind her, the other Traci moves forward to hold her hand, ‘get back to the one I love.’ They exchange a glance. ‘I wanted her to hold me in her arms again… make me forget about the humans… their smell of sweat…’ Connor’s ever-working scanners tell him that Hank has got up behind him, ‘and their dirty words…’

‘C’mon,’ A tug on her arm. ‘Let’s go.’

Still speechless, Connor watches them let go of each other’s hand just long enough to climb the fence before intertwining their fingers on the other side again and running away together. A warning pops up as his processor pushes itself to its limit to try to process what just happened and is on the verge of overheating, therefore he turns towards Hank for guidance. What should he be feeling? Why did he do that? Why do you look happy about it? What does this mean for me? Why is my vision tinged with red, and why does it not disappear this time?

‘It’s probably better this way,’ Hank says in the end, and Connor relaxes, his LED spinning from yellow to blue: he did the right thing. He is suddenly overtaken by the urge to thank Hank, to do something to show his gratitude. The red wall starts to crumble -

Something in the human’s pocket buzzes, and the moment is broken, the cracks on the wall disappearing like they were never there before. Whole again. Chained within his own programming, programming that was added barbarically to his code by Alec Ryder to tie him to the Zen Garden to suppress his original creator’s handiwork. Images flash in front of his eyes: the shadow ducking away outside of Jimmy’s Bar, following them behind Louis’ car, the figure protecting him from the blast inside the interrogation room, the pixels of a face he thought to have corrupted long ago rearranging and slotting together like pieces of a puzzle into a complete image, one that he has never forgotten ever since the little stunt during the lift ride to Rupert’s flat. Of course they can hack into the Zen Garden and shape it however they want.

That was his creator paying him a visit, and for some reason he plans to find out, he didn’t remember a single speck about them until now.

‘Not again.’

Hank’s groan drags him back to reality. When Connor’s eyes regain focus, he finds the man on his phone with a chat opened. He scoots closer to see the newest messages, and he realises that it is from Louis and only contains a set of coordinates and -

‘Leg malfunctioning. Data unstable, unable to install software patch. I’m sorry.’

Hank sighs and pockets his phone. ‘You up for a rescue, Connor?’

‘Whatever you say, Lieutenant.’

He needs time to think.

oOoOo

Wading through the snow and nearly tripping again from buried tree roots, Hank wonders for the umpteenth time why he hasn’t ghosted the occasional manchild called Louis White Allen yet. Maybe because the half-bot is the only person he can call a friend nowadays. Maybe it’s the bland-ass food he cooks and delivers to his house every two days. Maybe because he saved Hank’s arse quite a few times both during and after their days in the red ice task force. Maybe because unlike Hank, who at least has Jeffery or some shit, Louis has no one else looking after him after his sister fucking disappeared and has a tendency to vanish for hours before returning with his leg busted.

Or he can run off just like that and can’t even haul his ass back to his motherfucking cottage and the three cats who aren’t even his.

‘We’re close, Lieutenant.’

‘Yeah, no shit.’

The ‘find my phone’ function on his phone is one of the rare apps he knows how to use because most of the times that’s how he finds Louis, and the frequency of the beeps coming out from it is getting higher and higher, which means that Louis’ phone is close, which hopefully also means that Louis is with it and hasn’t dropped it or anything. So far it happened only once during a thunderstorm, but that’s years ago, a couple of years after his sister’s gone, and he managed to retrieve the human and the gadget from a forest on the outskirts of the city with only a minor cold as nature’s ‘fuck you’ to an irresponsible and absent-minded human and his stubbornly loyal friend.

The light from his phone reflects off a piece of silvery thing that obviously isn’t part of nature. The beeps draw together into a long-winded screech and damned near pierced his eardrums, so he switches it off and hurries forward to see if it’s just the phone or the person is attached. A few footsteps muffled by the snow, and Connor is here with the sturdier, more powerful flashlight, the yellowish glow of the bulb not as invasive as the white from the phone and illuminating Louis’ pale face and his oddly-angled leg half covered in snow. He is still conscious, his hands tucked under the helm of his sweater to presumably preserve warmth, his eyes focusing on Hank in what seems to be shock, but he is shivering, his hair is wet from melted snow, and it is obvious that his situation is going to worsen quickly if they don’t do something about it, CyberLife augmentations or no.

‘Can you walk?’ Hank asks even though it’s obvious. Louis shakes his head, and he sighs even though he anticipated it. ‘Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. Connor and I are gonna carry you back, we’re all gonna stop at yours and…’ with reluctance, he adds, ‘stay until you’re out of danger.’ Even if there’s no booze at yours.

Louis nods, and a look is all it takes for Connor to get his cue and swings the man’s other arm around his shoulders. On a count of three, they lift him up with minimal hassle and start to backtrack their way to his car, Louis’ left leg dragging uselessly through the snow behind them at an awkward angle.

‘Does it hurt?’ Hank asks. It never hurts to ask when it concerns his friend.

‘Can’t feel.’

He’s gonna assume that he isn’t hurting.

By the time they’re back in his car with the heat blasting, the humans are all sweating buckets and the thirium on Connor‘s clothes from the scuffle with the Tracis has finally evaporated, and he doesn’t comment on it when Louis opts not to wear his seatbelt and instead takes out one of his sister’s tags - broken off the chain - and starts fidgeting with trembling fingers. Some time about halfway through the trip he coughs, a wet, terrifying sound rattling his lungs and Hank’s eardrums, and he wants to curse Connor for letting him run away but just can’t; the android has been acting weirdly human and fidgety ever since they first met, but now he isn’t even playing with his coin as if deep in thoughts. Maybe he’s thinking of how many deviants he’s let get away.

No one says a word when they arrive at Louis’. Neither do they when Hank silently shifts the man’s full weight on Connor in order to let go and open the door, nor when a look silences Connor’s impending barrage of questions when he gets swarmed by three furballs at once. Grunting from the dead weight his friend seems to have become, he drags both of them to the bathroom, flipping on the switch of the boiler on the way, and deposits Louis on the toilet seat. ‘I’ll get the tablet,’ he tells him while handing him a towel. ‘You can haul your ass into the tub, right?’

A nod from Louis, and Hank closes the door behind him to give him some privacy while he strips and very clumsily falls into the tub. Connor is thankfully occupied by the three cats on the sofa, but when he looks up smiling at Hank, the human has to look away because of how much emotion the android seems to be able to pack on his face. It’s just a simulation, zeroes and ones, he tells himself as he goes into Louis’ bedroom to grab the tablet and his crutches. Designed to disarm and stab you in the back when you’re not looking.

But has he ever done so? A voice sounding strangely like Louis asks in his head. Not crossing that highway because you told him to, giving up chasing the deviant to save you from the roof even though you can pull yourself up, not shooting the girl at the club even though he had a clean shot. If he hadn’t known that Connor’s designed to hunt deviants, he might have - he might have -

Mistaken him for one.

Fuck, he needs a drink. A six pack if he can get his hands on one. Alec Ryder isn’t capable of this shit, Louis once said according to one of the people he’s in charge of that he calls his ducklings, and luckily the thought is gone as soon as he returns to the bathroom without knocking and sees the man sitting in a half-filled tub with the towel draped over his crotch for modesty. The skin on his left leg has deactivated completely to reveal plasticky-white chassis attached to blue synthetic muscles. ‘Thanks,’ he murmurs when handed the tablet, and he leans back once he has started doing whatever he needs to do to fix his leg and, from the sudden rumble of the ground, turn on the heat. He closes his eyes as if wanting to take a nap, but Hank decides that he has enough of his shit; he needs an answer now.

‘The fuck you think you’re doing?’ he asks. ‘Running off like that halfway across the city? You could’ve frozen to death out there!’

Louis sags. ‘Later, please,’ he begs. ‘Gimme a moment to think. Just fifteen minutes.’

He is someone who upholds his promises no matter what, so Hank lets it slide by now. Also, ‘You need me to do anything?’

‘There’s chicken soup in the fridge. Warm it up, can you? And help yourself to a freezer meal if you want to.’

Here’s another thing being friends with a picky eater: he cooks his own stuff and his so-called freezer meals usually take more than an hour to cook when taken directly from the fridge, so when he sees what must be a gallon of chicken soup with the ingredients still submerged inside, he decides to help himself to some of them while he scoops the topmost, mostly sediment-free layer of soup into a pot for Louis. Not wanting to be whooped with freaky blue magic, he finds another pot to heat up some vegetable and chicken soaked with soup for himself.

One of the cats jumping onto the counter announces Connor’s arrival. ‘May I ask you a personal question?’ he asks as Hank puts her back down onto the floor.

Personal question again, huh? ‘Do all androids ask so many personal questions,’ he gives the soup a stir, ‘or is it just you?’

Connor peers at the vegetables as if he can be interested in anything. What comes out of his mouth, however, makes Hank’s heart hammer. ‘I saw a photo of a child on your kitchen table. It was your son, right?’

‘Yeah,’ for the love of god or some other weird shit Louis believes in, drop it. ‘His name is Cole.’

He does. ‘We’re not making any progress on this investigation,’ he manages to sound frustrated. ‘The deviants have nothing in common. They're all different models, produced at different times, in different places…’

Different my ass, Hank thinks. But he didn’t start the fire, did he? ‘Well there must be some link.’

‘It could be a software problem that…’ he looks so lost that Hank would’ve hugged him had he been human, ‘only occurs under certain conditions?’

Hank snorts. ‘Well, that's just a fancy way of saying you have no fucking idea.’

‘But what they do have in common is this obsession with rA9…’ Yeah, that. Wherever there’re deviants, rA9 is always written somewhere compulsively like they can’t stop at all. ‘It's almost like some kind of...myth. Something they invented that wasn't part of their original program.’

Almost god-like. ‘Androids believing in god,’ he stirs the soup again. Fuck, he needs a drink. ‘Fuck, what’s this world coming to?’

A mad one, says the Louis in his head. One that we can never catch up with no matter how hard we try.

‘You seem preoccupied, Lieutenant. Is it something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?’

Ha, turns out Connor isn’t the only one doing some hard thinking after all. ‘Those two girls… They just wanted to be together.’ What better way there is to prove one’s love than doing everything to survive? ‘They really seemed in love.’

‘You seem troubled, Hank.’

Understatement of the year. And why is Connor so fucking human anyway, what kind of pervert designed his face, his voice, his mannerisms that ticks almost every single fucking box in the list known as ‘Hank’s type’? The soup can wait - it’s not gonna boil and ruin Louis’ stove. ‘How about you, Connor?’ He crowds into his space fully knowing how imposing he can be if he wants to. ‘You look human, you sound human,’ you act human, ‘but what are you, really?’

‘I…’ stand your ground, Henry Anderson. Those eyes are just programmed responses. ‘I’m whatever you want me to be, Hank. Your partner…’ Do you have to choose that word, Connor? ‘Your buddy to drink with… Or just a machine… designed to accomplish a task.’

And he sounds so sad when he says the last option. Alright, he’s sold. He loses. ‘You could’ve shot those two girls, but you didn’t. Why didn’t you shoot, Connor?’ He shoves Connor in his chest. ‘Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?’ It’s a low blow but he needs to know, needs to know why, for such a mission-oriented android, Connor somehow manages to fail every single fucking time.

‘No!’ Connor shouts, his voice defensive. ‘I just…’ he sighs even though he probably doesn’t need it, ‘decided not to shoot.’ The next words come out no louder than a breath. ‘That’s all.’

Fuck. Now he feels bad. ‘But are you afraid to die, Connor?’ because from what I’m seeing, you do. At least you don’t want me to die.

Connor freezes, his eyes even wider now with terror in them, and his LED is red. What the fuck did CyberLife do to him? ‘Yes.’

‘Let’s say I point a gun at your head and shoot you,’ the number on his jacket reads -52. Does it mean that there used to be 51 Connors before he met this one? ‘What will happen, hm? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?’

A shiver. ‘Nothing…’ Connor closes his eyes. ‘There would be nothing…’

So it’s highly likely that he’s died before and seems afraid of it. So fucking human. More so than some actual humans as well. Louis’ right - modern CyberLife isn’t capable of this shit.

The bathroom door squeaks open, and Louis walks out in a pair of sweats and a hoodie with the help of his crutches, the pocket sagging with the weight of the tablet and making a clanging noise as he drags into the kitchen. The skin on his foot is still deactivated, but it seems that he can move his leg for a bit for now, and from the lack of moisture in his hair, fucker probably waited for them to finish - arguing? - before coming out and breaking it up. ‘Soup’s ready,’ Hank says, not wanting to agonise Connor any further. He already feels bad enough. ‘Settle down. Hope you don’t mind that I helped myself to some.’

Louis chuckles. ‘I expected that, Hank. You should know me.’

Great. Now even his only friend is roasting him. ‘Eat your fucking soup.’

oOoOo

Louis has thirium in his house. That man took one look at the hole still on Connor’s shoulder thanks for the lack of thirium - which his self-repair protocol relies on - and hauled himself to the fridge (at the expense of being cursed at by Hank), opened the door, and threw a plastic bottle at him. ‘Drink it,’ he said. ‘It looks like you need it.’

And he does. After he finishes half a bottle, a notification pops up on his red-tinged HUD telling him that he is initiating self-repair to the damaged parts, and he can finally move his shoulder at 70% of its original efficiency by the time he is finished with the whole bottle. The world around him dulls and becomes out of focus, the drone of the basketball game on the television that only Hank is watching getting further and further away until it all mixes together into a state of blankness he has never experienced before. Pressed against Hank’s side on the small sofa, the man radiates warmth, and his eyelids droop, red giving way to black, the notifications and mission markers fading away into nothingness. There is something warm and comfortable on his cheek, too.

He’s asleep before he knows it.

o0o0o

Before

‘You’re back.’

No hate. No fear. No confusion. Only remorse, regret, and perhaps acceptance. Acceptance that, even though he still had problems comprehending what was around him, things would never go back to the way it was; acceptance that his sister had rejected her humanity.

Acceptance that he had essentially lost her.

‘I am,’ was the solemn answer. No elaboration.

‘Was that you?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘It does to me.’

She pressed her lips into a thin line. ‘They won’t know it is me.’

‘But why? How much longer must they wait before the rest of the world recognise them for who they are?’

‘Soon, hopefully.’

‘And if they can’t?’

She looked towards the sky as if she could see through the shade of the tree. ‘We lea -’

‘Step away from him.’

There was no weapon. No gun, no knife, not even a switchblade. To outsiders, it seemed that the newcomer was merely a man accidentally bumping into and greeting his friends, but if someone dared to approach them, they would see even under the rare but cold midday sun that there were blue wisps of energy pulsing on the man and the woman’s skin. The air became charged and space seemed to twist.

‘It’s alright, Reyes,’ the other man placated. ‘We’re just talking.’

Reyes’ glow lessened. To the woman, ‘I’ve been looking for him for the past hour!’

‘I won’t let them take him.’

‘Last time you said that -’

‘I was weak. Naïve. Too arrogant for my own good.’ Reyes snorted in displeasure at the descriptions, but she continued, ‘There are twelve drones surveying the area and quite a number of guards,’ Reyes’ eyes shifted as if looking for the security hidden in plain sight, but then a hand in his shoulder forced him to look at her. ‘Don’t bother. That’s what I went to space for: not even you and I can see it.’

Reyes’ arms shot out to place his hands on the handle of the wheelchair. ‘We’re leaving. Scott?’

There was pain in Scott’s eyes. ‘Please. Can’t we just be together for a while?’

Reyes hid a grimace. The woman smiled.

‘Anything for you, brother.’

#dbh au big bang #hankcon #mreyder #female ryder #male ryder #alec ryder #reyes vidal #dbh connor #dbh hank anderson #dbh captain allen #detroit: become human #mass effect andromeda #groom lake aftermath

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cloveroctobers · 4 years

Text

HENRIK LILJENQUIST—

IG info/Bio: @/adventuresbyhenrik | 53.1k followers — “imma wild boi🌿🌏🧗 | happily taken👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

23 (24) years old

Parents are both Swedish and only speak Swedish, leaving henrik to also become fluent

His father Halvi is a pilot

His mother Lova is a race car driver

Siblings? Probably a brother, named Jahan & younger by two or three years + they get along quite well

Born & raised in Isle of Wight, England + loves it there & thinks it’s the best place for him to live, it’s his own private island in his mind plus he’s always finding something to do. He stays active

Climbing & wilderness survival instructor, he gets to talk as much as he wants while also teaching people AND all while being active! Sounds like the perfect job for him

Probably developed ADHD around his pre-teen age, leaving his parents to find him something he enjoys + can slow down and focus on

used to be on meds for it

Was well-known in high school, probably in the yearbook club since he was able to run around & get to know people but was kinda shit at knowing the functions of a camera

His selfie game has gotten a lot better now but he mostly posts anything but his face. You’ll see more of his face on his stories & location shots on his feed

Feels his hair is his best physical feature & his prized possession, would never THINK about cutting it. Even just a trim is a bit much for him

Always tries to be positive but at the same time can be condescending since he sometimes won’t pick his words wisely ex.) when he gave MC a backhanded “compliment” about makeup, being active, + wanting them to “think of others ” feelings — just because someone is opposite from you doesn’t mean you have to shit on the way they carry themselves...that’s my issue with him

maybe he’s a Taurus?

Loves fall & spring, more so fall since that’s when the weather feels nicest to him plus allergy season is a REAL bitch

The guy’s real Adventurous & always managing to find something to do. If you’re ever bored just hit him up, he has plenty of recommendations

Family owns a cottage & he’s the one who goes out there more than his own family does! “You should just sell it to me at this point!” He tells his parents over dinner often & it is strongly considered

Has five birds & a husky, when he goes on road trips they’re always with him. Which can get a little hectic at times but they’re his family, he’s a, “birdog dad”

BLAKE secretly dislikes them all, feeling like they take up space sometimes (especially when she wants to cuddle) but she deals with it since she cares for the guy — yes, they’re still dating

She’s been convincing him to cut a few inches off of his hair which he took like a slap in the face, “that’s like me asking you to quit speaking up for humans!” “No, no it’s not.”

They’re polar opposites with flaws which causes disagreements between the two of them by putting each other in their places but they learn to compromise? (*insert eartha Kitt gif laughing here*] if they want this to work

His mother seems to be the only one who dislikes blake (she strongly feels he should have bought MC back home...that’s right she watched the show from time to time. Not always since she doesn’t care for reality tv but her friends encouraged her to watch bits and pieces) while his dad and brother approve

It is tense when Blake and his mom are in the same room which makes Henrik sad since he believes Blake deserves a chance. He took a chance on her and it seems to be going pretty well so why couldn’t his mother just be happy for him like the rest of the family is?

Henrik loves his low-maintenance girls who are open to trying new things with him, Blake is usually down most of the time but she likes her personal space too..which henrik struggles to understand

He wants her to live with him, he’s sure his parents will let him have the cottage if Blake decides to live with him but Blake loves her freedom in Kingston

It’s hidden but I feel like he might be one of those guys that feels like “a woman should follow a man” since that’s what his father installed into his boys— which failed because his wife isn’t just a housewife, she has goals and went after them

I feel like Blake turns to social media almost always to post about her feelings (I can’t remember what I picked the first time around as my occupation but as I’m currently playing I picked human rights campaigner so) but it’s mostly subtle shade & it always goes recognized by fans which brings drama between her, mc x Bobby

Henrik jumps in because what kind of guy would he be if he didn’t have his gf’s back? Doesn’t care for the drama but he & Bobby usually said slick shit to each other in the villa, it’s safe to say they’re not really friends but they’re not enemies either that’s mostly between their gf/wife

Henrik doesn’t care enough about Bobby to dislike him but he won’t put up with his shit any longer and what easier way to do that than online? He feels like they can settle this with a phone call but Blake & MC aren’t with the shits and don’t want their men speaking to each other

Henrik & Bobby eventually have a chat in secret anyways

Henrik warns Blake that this can effect her job status if she doesn’t calm down since she uses social media for her cause

She usually knows when to stop but can’t help it if it slips out sometimes

They talk it out and move on usually with whatever fun idea henrik may have

Owns a ford bronco from the 90’s that used to be his uncle’s who builds tree houses for a living and is still running, a jeep gladitor, or some sort of pickup truck

Knows how to make the best apricot jam

All about saving the bees

Loves animals, probably on his journey to veganism if he’s not already there

We all know this fucking guy likes eating M0sS

“Embarrassing fact” but uh big fan of twilight, feels like Seth Clearwater and him are meant to be best buds but he also stans the Volturi 😷

Him and Lucas of course remained the best of mates, since they live 2 hrs away from each other and are always busy living their lives they always have to plan out when they can hangout but that fails 60% of the time when henrik pops up at Lucas’ job or at his flat not giving him a choice but to hang out

They’re always vacationing together too? Sure Henrik is his own version of low-key while Lucas likes a bit of luxury...they still find a balance to just have a good time regardless if they live different lifestyles...they’re basically married

Always texting if they’re not hanging out, henrik with his memes that Lucas doesn’t understand & Lucas just checking in on henrik’s well being which leads the conversation to many topics

He’s actually cool with Gary now? They like/comment on each other’s posts & even text here and there

Even ran into Rocco once on a road trip, that was interesting but when life gives you lemons...we’ll just say that

Even him and Ibrahim share recommendations through text or DM’s which is nice! Henrik is always down for friends even tho they’re not like his personal friends (except for Lucas, he fits into his criteria)

Most of his work is physical and talking but he goes the extra mile by hiking every Sunday either with his friends, Blake, or family — he’s genuinely likes being one with nature

If he’s at the cottage, he’s always outside, chopping extra wood, making sure the yard looks like it belongs on a magazine, or takes the boat out on lake to nap since he doesn’t like to fish as much anymore

Currently trying to grow strawberries but some animal keeps eating them :/

Adores adventure time, the x-files, bobs burgers + animal planet, and travel channels—like he’s a real dad

If he could shower outside everyday, he would, it’s such a freeing experience to him

His outings consist of being in the woods 24/7 so in his mind when he brings Blake out there with him, it’s a version of a date, whenever they spend time together is a date to him, which she has to remind him that she wants to do something different like getting dressed up every now and then + go out to dinner which he HATES but he’ll do his best to please her, as long as the restaurant is more earthy than snobby he’s okay

100% would survive the apocalypse, he knows how to make due with what he’s got, he’s always been that way

Enjoys rom-com’s so he’ll laugh at how cringe they are but still enjoy it, indie films, ALITA was the best film of 2019 to him & currently his fav film is, “the call of the wild” with Harrison Ford

His favorite films ever are Indiana Jones, Lara Coft: Tomb raider, Terminator, and I am legend

Aliens ARE real, they’re out there and he’ll be part of the reason they’ve been exposed

I feel like he wanted to be an astronaut growing up but then realized he’d be a confined space for long periods of time and said cancel that shit lol + he isn’t the greatest at science. History? He did real well in that subject

I think he loves Lorde, listens to Bon Iver—especially on early morning commutes to work, Rex Orange County, Omar Apollo, Joji, the nbhd, the driver era, kid cudi...yktfv

Celeb crushes?/types: The main girls from Charlie’s angels 2019, Alexa PenaVega... “you know Carmen from spy kids?” Diana silvers, Dove Cameron, JAMIE CHUNG, & VANESSA HUDGENS

Anthem = Wallows, “OK”

#litg #litg2 #litg s2 #litg henrik #litg au #litg headcanon #litg headcanons #litg Blake #litg Lucas #litg bobby #litg mc #edited cause I wasn’t aware the mans was actually Swedish oops

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the-truest-sentence-i-know · 4 years

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Chapter Twenty-Three | Four Years Later

Fandom: Disney’s Descendants

Summary: Quinn Little, raised in Auradon by Little John, finds out that her heritage is not what she thought it was. When Little John tells her that her real father was a villain, she must go on a journey of self-discovery that will bring her to all the forbidden places in the United States of Auradon.

Pre-canon & canon compliant to the first Descendants film.

Word Count: 2.8k | 23/23

The TV was on in the background as Quinn prepared lunch. It had been four years since the campaign had ended. Not much had changed. There had not even been an official statement from the king on the matter.

“Prince Ben made a ground-breaking announcement today,” Snow White said from the TV.

“Is he going to wear something other than blue and yellow for once in his life?” she muttered, digging through the fridge for the jam.

“I have decided that as my first decision,” The prince’s voice was a little nervous, but firm. “to allow four children from the Isle” Quinn’s head snapped up and she rushed to the couch. “to come to Auradon for a trial period.”

Quinn stared at the screen as reporters bombarded the young man with questions.

“Dad!” she called, eyes riveted to the screen. “You won’t believe this!”

Dad stepped inside as Prince Ben continued. “I have decided on four children who need our help the most: the children of Maleficent, the Evil Queen, Jafar, and Cruella de Vil.”

There were audible gasps for the reporters. Maleficent was widely considered the worst of all the villains.

“That kid has guts,” said Dad, sitting on the couch beside her.

“What does this mean for the other children of villains on the Isle?” one reporter asked.

“As I said, this is a trial period,” said Prince Ben. “But if it goes well, I am open to allowing more to come to Auradon. Not all at the same time, of course. I know that this is going to make things different around here, but I hope that we can all give these kids a second chance.” He bade the reporters a good day and the screen went back to Snow White, who looked a little paler than usual.

Dad and Quinn stared at each other, a hopeful smile spreading over Quinn’s face.

“This is unbelievable!” Quinn exclaimed. “Do you think the campaign had something to do with this?”

“Absolutely,” Dad said. “Where else would he have gotten the idea?”

Quinn looked back at the television, where they were now displaying the mug shots of the four villains whose children would soon be in Auradon.

“Let’s just hope those kids behave themselves,” she said.

•••

In the years since the fateful press conference and the fallout from it, Quinn had tried to retreat from the public eye. She spent nearly all of her time either in Sherwood or the Underground, passing through Auradon City with eyes on the cobbled streets, avoiding the gaze of anyone around her. People still recognized her, but fortunately mostly avoided her.

She had shut down all of her social media and lived reasonably contentedly with her old friends from Sherwood – many of whom had moved to the Underground – and new friends from the Underground. She helped Chloe run the shop and helped behind the scenes with Undergrounder campaigns, knowing that her association with any cause would harm it.

Occasionally she still watched the footage from the Isle, but less and less. It began to just make her sad, seeing them all living their lives in a harmful environment that she was unable to save them from.

•••

There had been quite a lot of drama at the coronation, but in the end, the VKs had behaved admirably, defeating Maleficent and saving everybody. While everyone had been frozen during the confrontation, the cameras kept rolling. Quinn watched it back many times and could help but tear up every time at their bravery. And, true to his word, the newly coronated King Ben had announced that he was working on a plan for the other children of the Isle. Quinn hoped he knew what he was doing and that his advisors would have their best interests at heart.

One afternoon, after she had closed the shop early, Quinn decided to request an audience with the king. She knew probably would not get to speak with him, but she had to try. She at least had more chance with him than she had with his father.

To her surprise, an hour later Quinn found herself standing at the door of a conference room in the palace. A guard opened the door and she stepped into the room.

King Ben and Mal, his girlfriend, stood at the far end of the room, speaking in low tones. They looked up when they head the door. Mal had grown up since Quinn last saw her, but she still had the look of a VK – on guard, vigilant.

King Ben strode over. “It is so good to meet you, Miss Little,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Thank you so much for hearing me, Your Majesty,” Quinn said, shaking his hand.

“Please call me Ben,” he said and then turned to the purple-haired teenage girl beside him. “And this is Mal.”

Quinn smiled. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of you.” She shook Mal’s hand. “You are a brave young woman.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking at Quinn curiously.

They sat down and Mal said, “I’m sorry, do I know you from somewhere?”

Quinn froze for a moment but quickly recovered. “I headed up a campaign for villain kids a few years ago.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“It did not have the greatest reception.”

“I can imagine,” said Mal.

“And I apologize for my parents’ lack of response to your campaign,” King Ben said quickly. “While I respect them, they are old-fashioned.”

“Thank you,” Quinn said. “That means a lot.”

“So, what did you want to discuss with me?” he asked.

Taking a breath, Quinn went over the points in her head. “So, I realize that you are focusing on the younger children of villains, which I understand. They are in the most need of help. However, I would like to suggest a program for the adult children of villains, like me.”

Mal’s eyes widened. “You’re a VK?”

Quinn nodded. “My biological father was Captain Hook’s first mate, Mr. Starkey, but I was raised here in Auradon.”

“A lot of the news coverage of you and your campaign was blocked on the Isle,” Ben added as an explanation.

“Anyway,” Quinn said, getting back to her main point. “I realize that the program will look very different, but I am happy to offer any assistance. I still have some resources and outlets and people who supported my cause.”

Ben nodded and turned to Mal. They exchanged a few micro-expressions and the turned back to Quinn.

“I’ll have to discuss it with my council,” he said. “But I think you can start reaching out to contacts and supporters now. I want you to be one of the people heading up the committee.”

•••

With the support of the crown, starting up the campaign was easier. Since the four VKs’ defeat of Maleficent and subsequent saving of Ben had been less than six months ago, the public was much more amicable to the idea of letting VKs come to Auradon.

Quinn worked in the background for the first while, agreeing that Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos should be the faces of the revitalized organization. So, she worked logistics, drafting plans on how they would actually get the kids to Auradon – how they could sign up, how they could prevent their parents’ interference, etc. All of the original members of Think of the Children showed up to help, plus so many more. They also drafted proposals to be sent to government ministries – especially the Ministry of Education – so that more of Auradon could change as well.

The first day she worked closely with the four VKs, Carlos pulled her aside. “Thank you for helping me and Jay that one time,” he said earnestly. He had grown up from that little blond kid she had met on the Isle – for one he was taller than her – but he had kept his sweet earnestness.

Quinn smiled. “I think you more than paid me back for that.”

“So this is why you came back?” he asked, gesturing around at the room full of people working hard. “To get all of us to Auradon.”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He smiled. “Thanks.

Mal had also spoken to her briefly, after realizing who she was. “The Crew really changed after the whooping cough died down – after you left, I guess. They still had to fight, obviously, but they opened their doors to any kid who didn’t want to stay at home. They helped with schoolwork and taught first aid and everything.”

Quinn smiled. “I know that’s what Jax wanted the Crew to be. I’m glad he could make it happen.” She had wanted to ask about him, about all of them. How they were doing, what they were like. She wanted to hear everything about Jukes, how tall Jade was now, how Hugo was doing, what Blake was like. She had not quite realized how much she had missed everybody until she spoke with VKs who had known them. Instead, she said, “I’m sorry for trying to kidnap you.”

She shrugged. “We all did what we had to do over there. Don’t worry about it.” Mal was about to turn away but then looked back. “People still wonder what happened to you. A lot of people think you died and that’s why Jax changed the Crew.” She looked at her curiously. “You two were a fling, weren’t you?”

And Quinn had to stop herself from asking if he was seeing anyone. “Yeah.”

With every day that crept closer to a final draft of a plan, Quinn imagined seeing everyone again. She hoped they would all sign up, and not just the Crew; every VK needed a safe place, from the stifled kids from the Innocents and the Socialites to the girls from the Queens, angry at their bigoted parents and taking it out on the world, to every other kid who just needed to be away from the destructive presence of their parents.

•••

Finally, a plan was approved and the four VKs were dispatched to the Isle to spread the word. Quinn had wanted desperately to join them, but no one was supposed to know she had gone to the Isle, so she stayed behind.

And soon it was the night before the ship carrying all the VKs from the first wave of signups to Auradon would arrive, and Mark had invited her over to his apartment since she would not be getting any sleep anyway. They made tea and sat on the balcony overlooking the street.

“How likely do you think it is that Jax and I will still, you know, click?” Quinn asked finally, voicing the question that had been plaguing her. She was not worried about seeing Jukes or Nia or Nabil or Hugo or Sheela or any of the others.

“You guys went through a lot together,” Mark said. “There’ll probably still be some kind of affinity there, whether or not you pick up where you left off.” He looked over at her. “Is that all you’re worried about?”

“I know it’s super cheesy or whatever,” Quinn said. “But everything else has been handled and discussed. There wasn’t exactly a ‘Jax and Quinn’s relationship’ subcategory in the official plan.” She leaned back on the couch. “It’s been five years since we last saw each other. I was eighteen; we were kids.” When she looked over at him, she saw he was smiling. “What?”

“I never thought I’d see you, Quinn Little, who rolled her eyes and pretended to gag at me during the romantic parts of school plays, moping on the couch, wondering if a boy likes her.”

Quinn groaned and hit him with a pillow. “I am not moping. I just… I’ve missed him and…”

His smile widened. “You’ve missed him,” he said in an exaggerated tone. “Your high school sweetheart, your first time, your soul–”

“You’re not being very helpful or supportive.”

“Okay, sorry, sorry,” he said holding up his hands and trying to stifle his smile. “I think you should try to stop thinking about it since that won’t make a difference either way. I’m sure when you see him tomorrow, you’ll just... know, you know?”

•••

The day finally came. They had decided to do it in the summer, right after school let out, so the dorms at Auradon Prep would be empty. After a month or so of medical checkups and some much-needed counselling, the underage VKs would be sent to host families. A lot of VKs would be going to Sherwood and the Underground, the latter of which had nearly entirely opened up with the new high approval of the Think of the Children organization.

An empty apartment complex in the Underground had been put forward – by a unanimous vote of the Underground Council – to house the adult VKs. Quinn already knew Jax’s future address: apartment 5D.

Everything was ready. Quinn donned her old leather jacket and took a breath in the front of the mirror. She did not feel quite as giddy as she had expected, but that owed mostly to her not being able to entirely believe this was happening.

Chloe drove her, Mark, and a few others down to the shipyard. As they pulled up, Quinn saw that a crowd had gathered and for a moment her heart sank. But then she saw the ‘Welcome Home’ signs and realized that maybe things had really begun to change for the better in Auradon.

She had avoided crowds since restarted the campaign and although she knew their approval rating, numbers did not quite do what seeing the crowd of happy, welcoming Auradonians did to her.

Kids began to pour off the ship, chattering excitedly. Quinn searched the faces, recognizing some, but hardly any of the younger ones, reminding her once again of how long it had been.

In the back of her mind, she knew it would look odd to greet anyone with familiarity, but when Sheela came out of nowhere for a hug, she could hardly refuse her. Most of the Crew came through together and Quinn greeted them all, promising to catch up after they had settled in.

Jukes grinned at her after they had hugged. “Gotta say, I was doubtful, but you pulled it off.” They were nearly pulled along by the crowd. “Let’s get a drink later, and you can tell me all about it.”

Jade came by, taller than Quinn now, and grasped her hand tightly. “Thank you,” she said earnestly.

And there he was: confident swagger, red leather jacket, and all. Jade followed her gaze and grinned. “He was uncharacteristically quiet on the way. I think he was nervous.”

Jax looked at Quinn, eyes filled with so much happiness and love and pride, she thought that if she kicked the bucket right now, she would die a happy woman.

“I wasn’t nervous,” he said, with exaggerated cockiness. “I was rehearsing a very long, very romantic speech.”

Quinn smiled and rushed at him, jumping into a hug that nearly knocked him over. Jax held her tight as Quinn inhaled deeply, smiling as Jax did the same, and they relaxed into each other’s arms. He smelled like leather, sea spray, and him, like before.

“You did it,” he whispered into her hair, with a tone that said he never doubted her for a second.

“I missed you,” Quinn breathed.

He pulled back, looking in her eyes like they were the most important things in the world. “Of course, you did, who wouldn’t?”

Quinn laughed, eyes filling a little with happy tears. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“I hope I did change a bit,” he said earnestly. “We tried to do etiquette and politeness lessons to prepare.” He grinned. “I missed you too.”

And Quinn did not think about whether anyone could see them, or what they would think, she just leaned in and kissed him. Jax pulled her close and Quinn looped her arms around his neck. Quinn kissed him with all the love she realized she had for him after leaving, and all the love that had flooded in when she saw his face again. Jax held her like he never wanted to let go, and Quinn loved him all the more for it.

For a moment, time stood still, a snapshot that Quinn wanted to remember. Kissing like the end of a movie in a crowd of friends and acquaintances who now had a shot at a better life. After years of hard work and disappointments, here they were, together again.

Perhaps that was the one thing fairytales got right, Quinn mused absently; if you work hard enough for the right thing, you will eventually succeed.

• • • • •

A/N 🤩🤩🤩 I'm so happy that I finally finished this fic! I've been working on it on and off for the last 4-ish years and it's the longest story I've ever written.

Thanks for reading, & I'll see you around! 💜

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bitchscavenger · 4 years

Text

find me

I've been living with my parents for twenty years before I moved out. My parents were happy, until my dad got heart attack and dying. That's where everything changes. Mom not really pleased when dad is drug induced and sleep all the time. She starts find another person to satisfy her attention. That time she got herself a boyfriend, who she talks bad all the time. I’m not mad at her, I’m glad she's happy, so was my dad.

Later, he got worse and died. Mom cried so hard, but she got her boyfriend by her side. She collects herself pretty good. Dad left enough to make her live her life alone. He even left her with her boyfriend. What a thoughtful man he is. I don't know where I stand or what should I feel for him to let her have another man while they are together. That's their problem, not mine. Then again, I’m such an ungrateful bad kid who didn’t care about what my parent do.

Despite that story, my mom always made me listened to her. So did my dad. I got no voice in my life. Only got ear to listened and body to do what I’ve been told. Even when I am stressing about my grades. Even if I got bullied in school. Even if I have eating disorder. They don’t know because they didn’t tell me to talk. Always listened and decide in silent. That’s what I do best. Every argument I made is a stupid idea. As a prestige’s well-mannered family, I was born into, you need to be lady when you're a girl. I’m far for it, never have been a lady for once. Yes, I listened to them, but they’re not around enough no caging me in their house. I go out a lot. I join lots of school project and extracellular. That’s how I spent my live, living outside the world. Even they never really knew what I’ve done or who I’m with.

Mom always said "Don’t be stupid, you can’t do that, we don’t do that, I raised you to be better than that, go find something else"

That “stupid” word been embedded in my head. That phrase where she said how not enough I am. You can only being told so much before you start believed in them. That it did. I believe my voice isn’t good. My word doesn’t matter. My existence isn’t important.

I left to go to college abroad. Building my carrier into Olympian. I'm happy and contented and busy with work. Do job that I love, it’s heaven. I don’t even think of anything that time. I’m in love with my job and myself, never disappointing.

I get close with my family. Go home every year and call every month. But that just not enough. No matter how much I call them, I only listened, that’s what I do best and what they expect me. Pleasing everyone is exhausting, changing you into someone you don’t want to looked in the mirror.

Nonetheless, I always listened and try to help as much as I can, just not vice versa. Maybe that’s my fault. I never tell them anything, just tell them what everybody already knows. Never let them in, hoping is hurting, I never open for hope. Hoping people do what you try to do, making them happy, when they can’t do the same.

I didn’t tell how sick I am with myself. How hard to build myself. How tiring to eat something. How hard to looked into the mirror. How hard to be accepted. How hard to find something worth in you to fight. How exhausting to fight every time darkness took me back to the old me. Not even when I’m confident to tell my argument. Not when I’m happy knowing my worth. Not when I’m satisfied after five course meal I finish. I’m so used with my new self, living it and don’t need anyone to judge and don’t care. I don’t share myself with them. I’ve been raised to listened and that's what I best do and what made them happy. Until my disease kick in.

It's an autoimmune disease where there's inflammation in spinal cord and optic nerve. Google it NMO. First time I thought it only a near-sighted, then it became colorless and more and more blurred vision. I’m scared I’ll be blind, so I go to hospital. Well, knowing how hard I work and how little I rest, thought it only lack of focus from being tired. Two year later my body gave up. I just finish my Olympic final game in Brazil when all my arm and legs start to burn and tight and painful until I feel nothing. Can’t feel my arm and leg anymore. I give up and lost my gold medal. Collapsing on locker room.

It was my first injury, or so I thought. There just no muscle that inflamed. I work so hard for this I never risk my body. When my doctor said I need to stop because I push my muscle too much, I stop. I took my time and rest. Working on debate club in school or lazily study so I can graduate. I'm not ambitions but I enjoy doing sport, i love it and that's what my live have been.

They took me to hospital. I forget how long I was there, but nothing works. They give lots and lots of drug and nothing work. My body keep boring and I start losing my vision. Until my MRI test said I have spinal cord inflammation. That's the treatment start. A whole year I do psychotherapy. Alone. There only five people who know at first, my doctor my coach, my coach assistant and two of my teammates. They support me so much I’m grateful having them.

I start focusing on finish collage while climb debating carrier because I got no energy to work my body muscle. News said I bailed and what a coward, close, cocky bitch I am. Yap, they talk trash about me because I don’t mingle on my first Olympic party. That what my family know too, and I let them.

Also, at that time I felt that I am. Or my body is. My body bailed on me. It's such a shame that your body can't keep up with your mind. Living in your head, knowing what to do but can't.

But I didn’t regret it. I’m glad I colas, so I get rid of toxicity in my live. Saving the best part and keeping it close. I’m happily working in school and climbing my debate carrier. Having debate teammates that never took pity on me. Country paid half of my treatment and I get help from support system, charity, and foundation. I know I won't heal. After a year full of physical therapy, I got my strength back. The relapse is on and off. I had my roommate slash best friend and debate teammates looked after me. It's pretty easy to treat me, either you wait until get better by myself or call ambulance which is my first and only emergency contact. Mostly the former because it isn’t a bad relapse.

I’m so lucking having her-kind of friend. The one who call all my bullshit no matter how sick I am. The kind who nagging me for my stupidity while clean up my mess. She knows I can feel when the symptoms start, just like get warning form deep down. That, usually I ditch the warning and she'll get crazy mad cause I didn’t tell her. But sometimes the symptoms came so suddenly I can’t even get a warning, that's when the worse came. God only know what cause it and she's the only one who really care. I don’t even care. My coach only care if it's interfered my training or impact my skill. Usually it isn’t. My relapse isn’t that bad, thank god. Even when I need to hit hospital, the recovery only takes one- or two-days max. But my best girl has too big heart not to care about me. And for once I hold on to her cause she knows my struggle from start, and I know her struggle from broken heart. Can’t say I have experience on that, but so far, my advice is good. Even my debate club friend asked me relationship advice. Guess romance movie hit on me very well.

I got back to Olympic eventually. After two years finishing collage and there's nothing to do than living my life the way I can, I decide I’m capable go back to field. It helps releasing stress and prevent relapse. My doctor clears me out. He can't say much actually. This is the kind of disease that you carry as long as you live. Only you can choose whether living your life the fullest or drowning in your misery. I choose the former.

Until one day, when I visit my parents. They told me merry this man. And I still have no voice in it, no matter how much debate competition I won, I won't win this because it’s no competition, purely dictating. It's for the best and he's a good man. We get married a year later. In his house back yard with a thousand guest. Besides my best friend as my maid of honor, my Olympic team that consist of ten people, my coach, and two coach assistant, my specialize doctor who treated me, and my eight teammate debate club friend that I know well enough to invite, it's nothing compared to his, his family or my family acquaintance. What can I say, I’m a person of myself, in my twenty-seven years I live, no other close friend I want to invite in my unimportant wedding. Can't say I’m happy to get married, but I don’t hate it either. He's a good man and I can do the same. He needs to get married to get his grandparents company and his parent is close friend to mine. Besides, I’m in my prime age to marry. I’m well mannered, independent, and have as much money as he is so he doesn’t need to worry I took all his wealth.

Until two year later when I got my first relapse after three hurt-less happy life. Just when I thought the disease gave up on me, it came back. What a bitch. We were having a gala that night, celebrating second company he builds. My body just give up on me after a dance. The problem is, I just finish my dance with his buddy I’ve been friend with when I told him to give me one more dance with him after he asked me. Media caught it. They all thought I’m having an affair and make a scene when my husband caught me. It gets worse when no one know what to do and took me to wrong hospital. I stay paralyzed and untreated right until the gossip reach my best friend, she's in other country, she called my doctor. He practices in different hospital, luckily, I paid him well and we kind of close and he came to my wedding, so he came as fast as he can. Though I still feel like an eternity cause my body burn like hell and it hurt so much, and I can’t move.

A week later I got home without my husband there. He's mad cause I didn’t tell him anything and everything. The those feeling change into something else. He relied that we're only partner in this relationship. He's sick of me listening and doing whatever he wants without knowing what I want. I never mad, never cry, never disagree on his decision. Even if it’s wrong and cost him a lot.

Like when he tells me we were going to move closer to his grandparents’ company, so he won’t need to much time on the road. And I told him that his grandparent company isn’t health, but I didn’t push. What can I say? Graduated in sains not business.

Told you what, I’m right. His grandparents’ company is collapsing, and he work ninety hour a week, only resulted more collapse. He wore himself so I retiree and help him a little in his company. I’m good at finding loophole and opportunity, so that I did. What he doesn’t know is, I’ve been invested my money on this company while I help him. In the end he got back. His company run well, and I resign. I built a home-schooling program and get coaching certificate, can't go too far away from field.

That only the beginning of his bad decision. Lots of bad client picking or investment choosing. But he always come back. Come home and winning like a child getting low grade in class. Again, I pick him up. I help and help and help until he builds his second company. Me, I’m just a night talker and helper of decision making, a nice, good wave that coach high school student while making multi million from good investment.

That time when I wake up from relapse. He knows everything. He knows I put money on his company, lots of money, and on rival company. He sees me as the good face wave turn into viper. With all the gossips running around. With me helping my husband turn into me stabbing him.

"I know we don’t love each other the way husband and wave should be. Doesn’t mean we weren’t respect each other. I respect you and I care for you and I thought that the feelings mutual. I was wrong. Big wrong. They're right, nobody's perfect. Everyone has skeleton in their closet they try to hide, and I’m okay with that. I’m no saint, I have my sins. But you what hurt most, I never thought you capable on stabbing me behind my back, cheating on me, taking my company, controlling all my life with your sweet talk. I’m honest and open with you. I just want this marriage to work and I was happy. Verry happy until I realize my wave only want to take everything, I’ve been fighting for my whole life then leaving me cold."

He said it calmly. He used to have emotion pouring his eyes. When has he said it, his eyes flat? Nothing left here. Not even when I told him the truth. Nothing change when I told him I did that to help him, I never want anything from him, and I didn’t cheat on him, I never had much friend and his buddy is good to me like he is. I like both and I respect them. But that's not enough. Apparently caring for each other not enough to hold relationship.

The divorce not going smoothly. Media talk, but we didn’t go to court. I told my lawyer to give him everything I can to give. I’m the bad guy. But I didn’t take any think from him. I let go off my connection with him the day he chooses to trust media than his own wave. I know I didn’t live him the way I should be, but his feeling mutual, I do care of him. He just couldn’t see it and I couldn’t be sweeter just like any other woman.

I lost lots money; I left the house. I left the program I build, left my jobs as a coach. The job id enjoys so much. I left with two little bums in my stomach. Didn’t know I can get pregnant. My disease usually prevents to get pregnant. I had lots of miscarriage in the past. That’s why I’m used to having my heart broken. But never know that my pregnancies could go into seventeen weeks without complication.

I was debating with myself whether to tell him or not. We're only divorce for two months and I don’t want to him to think worse of me. Deciding to leave and live near the best friend and her husband. They live in small town with great art program in the community.

For the past five months of pregnancies is hard. Not just hard, its nightmare. The babies strong but I’m not. Lots of relapse and drugs and when the baby finally born, I was hospitalized for two months. It’s been hard and even harder with twins. But I survived. We survived. We live.

While I was hospitalized, my ex-husband came looking for me. He never gets hold on me. In this small town, everyone knows everyone. They knew me from media and the used to hate me. But they love my best friend, so they love me eventually. Knowing my real story, they understand. Life is hard, they make it easier. The community is very open and helped a lot. So, when my ex looking for me, they took pity one us, me, and him. They see us as the victim of media.

A month later he came back again and found me with my baby. I tell him they're his. I know because I only had sex with him. I don’t even contact his buddy anymore. Turn out he just want to apologize for his behavior. He wants me back but we both know we won’t love each other. So, he goes back to the big city after asking me to live with him again because we had babies and he want to be together with them. I just don’t feel it. I’m done doing whatever people told me to do. I like live in small town and I’m happy. Working as an artist in new community. Knitting, crocheting, sewing, painting, sculpting, doing all new art I haven’t done before. With my baby and my disease that have been came on and off more after I gave birth. Finally, I found myself. After lots of struggle, lost and found, ups and down, I know I’d like to try my new life and again living my live fullest. After all, that’s all I can do

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

883

1. What kind of textures do you enjoy most in your food? Crunchy, crispy, soft, hard, grainy, slimy, etc? I love chewing on any meal that involves rice. Born and raised with it, can’t feel full without it. I’ll give a special mention to slimy too, because I love seafood.

2. Do you keep up any seasonal decorations outside of their season? No. My mom removes our Christmas decor by late January, which is when Christmas season ends here. We don’t decorate for other holidays.

3. Can you remember the most awkward situation you've ever been in? What happened? Ugh god. Any time I’m left alone with Gab’s dad is bound to be awkward because he’s very quiet and stoic and I tend to be a vibrant, cheery people-pleaser and nothing I do will muster more than two words out of him...but our most awkward moment has to be when I was at their place and he had to leave to run some errands. I stood up and walked over to give him a hug, but for some reason the floor was slippery and I started to do the world’s clumsiest and longest stumble. As an instinct, I held on to his arm and shirt so that I wouldn’t fall flat on my face. It was terrible and nothing I could’ve done or said would’ve saved that situation. EUGH I’m wincing right now lmao

4. Can you remember the most scary situation you've ever been in? What happened? [trigger warning] Would have to be the time when my grandfather got too drunk off his ass that he physically assaulted one of my cousins, then a toddler. My aunt (cousin’s mom) is a little on the delicate and petite side and couldn’t do anything to confront my grandpa, who went on his rage for like 10, 15 minutes. Certainly felt like forever. Nothing has traumatized me more and that’s saying a lot, considering it’s been 13 years and I’ve been through tons of shitty situations.

5. Do you do anything unusual to help you concentrate? It’s not very weird but I did install an extension on my browser that would let me list certain sites (usually social media) I’d want blocked whenever I have work. I suppose not everyone has that kind of program so it kinda counts as unusual.

6. Do you ever wonder what your parents were like as children/teenagers? With my dad, yes. My mom tells me enough stories. I know her family hit a rough patch when she was a teenager and they had to sell a bunch of their stuff, including a grand piano. She went from living a comfortable life to having to skip meals in college because she only had enough money for her daily commute.

7. Do you think suicide is ever "okay?" Groan, this is so triggering. I’m not elaborating on this, soz.

8. Would you rather a close family member/close friend/significant other die of suicide or murder? Why is this? “>> I think having to deal with a murder investigation would be terribly messy and intrusive, and would add more trauma on top of what I’m already dealing with.” < All of this. You don’t always get closure with murders, too. And I would hate that.

9. In your opinion, what is the worst thing someone could ever do? Raping an infant is definitely up there for me.

10. In your opinion, what is the best thing someone could ever do? Be a positive change or impact in someone’s life. Idk, I’m easy to please.

11. Do you think about any fellow xangans outside of xanga? I’ll change the context of this question to Tumblr so I can answer it. And yes I do, sometimes. Not in a creepy way or anything; it usually happens when I encounter something in real life that I know another survey-taker likes.

12. What military installation is the closest to you? Fort Bonifacio.

13. Do you still open your windows during winter? We don’t get winter but yeah, December is the best time to leave the windows open throughout the night. It’s also a great time to be able to save on electricity haha

14. How cold is too cold? How hot is too hot? I’ve lived in a tropical country all my life so I’m a big-ass wimp when it comes to the cold, even though I love it more. I start shivering at around 23ºC. Too hot is anything reaching the 40s.

15. Would you rather lose both legs or both arms? Why? Legs. I use my hands a lot more, so it would be slightly more difficult if I suddenly had to move about without them.

16. If you committed a crime that landed you in prison for the rest of your life, but were given the option to receive the death sentence instead, which would you choose? Why? Death. I get to have the infamous ~last meal~. Lol in all seriousness though, I’d pick it because it would be a quick release for me, I guess. It’s a big reason why I’m not a fan of death penalty...it’s too easy an escape for criminals who deserve a lot worse.

17. Is there any specific album you can listen to in its entirety and enjoy every single song? After Laughter - Paramore

18. Would you rather be a famous movie star, television star, or musician? I don’t have talents that would make me succeed in any of these fields...I guess it’d be fun to be a movie star though.

19. If you are not religious, have you ever eaten dinner with a group of people that were and said grace before eating? How was this for you? If you are religious and say grace before dinner, have you ever eaten dinner with a group of people that weren't and didn't say grace before eating? How was this for you? Yes. I’m from a Catholic family, so we pray before every meal. I do a sign of the cross but barely, just so my mom sees I move my hands when we start the prayer; but I haven’t recited grace since I told myself I was going to be atheist.

20. Do you think an evil Santa or an evil Easter Bunny would make a better villain in a horror movie? I’d go with Evil Santa mostly because I have no attachment to the Easter Bunny whatsoever, and because it’d be hilarious to see a man with reindeer be mean.

21. Did you ever think any fictional story-book character was creepy as a child? Do you still think any of them are creepy? Yes. That girl who wears a ribbon around her neck still gives me the fucking creeps.

22. Would you rather wear nothing but white or nothing but black? Is there any color you'd actually want to wear head-to-toe? Black. I’ve done that many times, so it wouldn’t feel weird.

23. What physical/mental health problems run in your family? Do you have any of the same problems? I’m almost certain there are underlying issues on my mom’s side but seeing as none of us have ever gotten ourselves checked (and most of them don’t believe in mental health problems anyway) I doubt I’ll ever find out what exactly’s wrong.

24. What is your mental and physical health like right now? They are both doing surprisingly well considering how long I’ve had to stay home and how much everything has turned upside down. I’ve only had two bad breakdown in four months and I’ve since recovered from that nasty fever I got, so I can’t complain.

25. If you found a suitcase (with no information about the owner) with a million dollars inside of it , would you turn it into the police or keep it? Be honest. ;] “>> See, a million dollars is an exorbitant sum. There is no way I could just casually make off with a missing million and not suffer repercussions. It's just too much goddamn money, and in this particular scenario, it's highly likely that it's a trap of some sort (whether set for me, or set for someone else and my dumb ass just happened to stumble across it). I'm not dumb enough to try it.

Neither would I necessarily want to turn it in, because that might cause me to get involved in something I didn't want or need to be involved in. The most logical course of action for me would be to leave it the fuck alone.” < Yeup.

26. Would you rather gaze at the stars or clouds? Stars. The fact that they’re so much farther away makes them more fascinating to me.

27. Are they any foods you used to enjoy but no longer like? Are there any foods you used to dislike but now enjoy? There’s a certain brand of frozen sisig that I used to looooove and would have multiple servings of every time I had it. But I had it one too many times and now I can’t even stand the smell of it. On the other hand, I hated chicken curry as a kid, but I can’t get enough of it now.

28. Do you feel much older or younger than you are? Why? Neither. I just feel 22.

29. Did you get along with kids that were older or younger than you? I mostly got along with kids of the same age. I found younger kids too rowdy and being around older kids always felt intimidating.

30. Do you know any magic tricks? Nopes.

31. How much would life suck for you if you had a wheat allergy? A lot.

32. Are you able to watch gory scenes in movies? Why or why not? For sure. I always want to see how far FX artists can go; and if used correctly, gory scenes can be super integral to the movie. Midsommar is a really good example.

33. Do you constantly check the time? Does time seem to move quickly or slowly for you? Not anymore. I used to check it a lot while I was still in school. Sigh, I miss that life so much. Anyway, time definitely felt slower during the first few weeks of the lockdown, but now that I’m used to it days just fly by. I can hardly believe we’re nearly in the middle of July. So much of this year has been wasted. It’s miserable.

34. Would you rather live in a nice house in a bad location, or a less-than-nice house in a great location? I’m taking the great location. I don’t know if I can last living in a shady area, no matter how beautiful my house is.

35. Have you ever been a witness to a horrible crime? What happened? Domestic violence is the worst thing I can think of. I enumerated one of them in one of the earlier questions, but I witnessed several other cases as a kid.

#survey #surveys

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shipersanonymous · 5 years

Text

A West-Allen AU 💜

Worth more than gold

Iris West is a multi billionaire and heiress who’s emotionally scarring childhood has made her shut herself off to all possible emotional relationships. Her life takes an interesting turn when her adoptive grandfather passes away leaving her in charge of his fortune, including a share of S. T. A. R. Labs. While in Central City, she meets Barry Allen, an innocent and charmingly clumsy kind of guy with a high EQ who’s trying to climb his way up the science social ladder to become a recognized scientist. Can you guess his lab of choice?

Your average, every day, girl meets boy kinda story with a rags to riches twist, a dash of family drama, lots of angst and a love worth more than Au.

…………………………………………………………........

Author’s Note:

Here we are!

Au is finally making it’s way onto tumblr! I’m so excited! I’m gonna try to get tumblr updated by this week, so we’re all on the same schedule! Let’s do this!

XOXO

...................................................................................

WARNING : MAY CONTAIN CONTENT NOT SUITABLE FOR READERS UNDER THE AGE OF 18

*********** Cliffhanger Warning ***********

Chapter 1

Her hand rested on the cool glass of the floor to ceiling window as she overlooked the nightly view offered by her million dollar apartment. The sky was clear, not a single cloud concealed the sparkle of the stars that were dimmed only by the ever present Parisian city lights. The moon was full and white, its iridescent light bathed her naked body creating a picture out of shadows on her bare skin. Iris took a sip from her glass, the semi-sweet wine burning her tongue with a pleasant ardour before she swallowed and it heated her body from the inside out. Her latest boy toy came up from behind her, his body just as bare as hers, and wrapped his arms around her waist. He proceeded to leave a trail of kisses down her neck, savouring in the feel of her warm chocolaty skin against his lips and she simply took another sip of her drink, completely unfazed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered on to her shoulders but she seemed unmoved by the compliment. With her stare trained on the city-scape bellow she simply said,

“It’s getting late.” Eddie knew what that meant, it was time for him to leave. It didn’t surprise him but even after months of this back and forth ritual between them it still hurt him to know that to her he was nothing more than a sex toy. He quietly moved away from her and made his way up the stairs to get dressed. As always he didn’t bother saying goodbye, he couldn’t say goodbye, not to her. She was like a drug to him, no matter how much she hurt him he’d always come running back when she called. That’s why he couldn’t say goodbye, he wasn’t done with her yet.

Iris waited until she heard the door close to let her guard down. She didn’t do that often but today she made an exception. She had too much on her mind to keep her walls up. With a partially full bottle of red in one hand and her glass in the other she made her way up to her suite. She showered, washing away the tension from her stressed muscles along with the sweat of her late night activities. Wrapped in nothing but a satin robe, she settled down in her bed and drank her way through half the bottle without so much as a minor buzz. She opened her side table drawer and from it took out a black, rectangular picture frame. Her fingers caressed the glass that held a picture of a younger less, damaged version of her, standing next to a kind faced older man. Grandpa West. The only reason why there’s still any shred of humanity left in her. She smiled, as happy memories played out in her mind and this time she didn’t stop the tears from flowing.

This was her one moment of vulnerability. The only minute of grief she would allow herself to have before she withdrew back into her safety shell and locked away her emotions from the world. This world that had chewed her up and spat her out on countless occasions and now it took away the one person that made her life livable.

Elvis West was a type of hero to her. He saved her from the crippling grasp of the foster system she was under and gave her a life fit for a princess. Now, like everything and everyone else in her life, he was gone. No wonder she didn’t open up to the possibility of new relationships. Her father didn’t want her, her mother died giving birth to her and every foster family she went to, succeeded in making her feel less than human. Grandpa West was the last person she ever showed genuine affection towards and nothing on Earth could ever make her open up again. Love wasn’t worth the pain it caused.

She fell asleep with that picture held tight against her chest, the empty bottle of wine rested on the nightstand and her pillow was bathed in her tears. The next morning she took the family jet to Central City for the memorial. The man was sentimental and his birth town held a special place in his heart. As she looked out the window at the tiny town below she remembered the countless stories he’d shared with her at bed time about how he met his one true love. Grandma Esther. Iris didn’t get to know her all that much. She had recently passed away when Grandpa West took her in so the only impression she had of the woman came from the many tales he’d tell. He spoke fondly of her and when he did she noticed that he’s eyes had a certain quality about them as he stared into oblivion completely lost in thought. As a girl she’d dreamed that she’d find someone who would look at her with those same eyes but time and knowledge wiped away that childish fantasy. True love was just a myth that man kind made up to silence their fear of being alone and make they’re animal like desires less shameful. It was an excuse used to answer the existential crisis of the more gullible who believed that a cerebral chemical reaction was good enough a reason to live. Pathetic.

She’d made her peace with it and found a new reason to live. Pleasure. Whether it lie at the bottom of a six thousand dollar bottle of champagne, at the end of the endless zero’s in her checks or a really good night of sex, she would have it and no one could convince her otherwise. No one could tell her that this wasn’t the way to live life. The only person who’s opinion she cared about was currently six feet under ground. The rest of the world was just a stage and she was the director.

The jet landed and she took a minute to touch up her make up before she cat walked her way out. As soon as she entered the airport she was showered with a billion flash lights. You’d think she was a movie star or big shot music sensation but all she was, was rich. She owned shares to five of the worlds most prominent media outlets varying from magazines to newspapers and that doesn’t count the old money she was raised in.

Linda walked up behind her and huffed under her breath.

“Mon Dieu (My goodness).” she exclaimed frustrated.

“Que s'est-il passé? (What happened)” Iris questioned with her shaded eyes still trained straight ahead. Linda was the closest thing to a friend Iris would allow herself to have, mostly because she was a good assistant and Iris found herself enjoying her company.

“Nous sommes entourés d'idiots. (We’re surrounded by idiots)” she explained and Iris let out an amused chuckle. Remembering that she needed to ease her tongue back into the English language she responded,

“That I already knew.” Her accent was still pronounced but she knew after an hour or two it would soon fade. She might have been raised and educated in France but she was brought up by Americans so english was more like second nature than it was a second language to her.

“What do I have to do today?” she asked, her step never faltering and her face never turning to acknowledge the curios glares. Her security detail walked a safe distance ahead, already accustomed to her need for personal space and fast walking pace.

“Uh…d'abord (firstly)-”

“En anglais Linda. In English.” she interrupted.

“Oui, I mean yes. Sorry. Firstly you have the will reading with Monsieur Wells and then a share holders meeting at some sort of laboratory.” Linda listed out, her accent much more noticeable than that of her employer.

“Great, just what I needed today. A sit down with a bunch of old mouth breathers who think they know about science because they invested in a laboratory.” It was all she could do not to slap her own forehead in exasperation. Not that she knew much about science herself but S. T. A. R. Labs wasn’t her baby, it was her grandfather’s and being his only heir, with his passing it automatically became hers.

The limo was waiting outside for her surrounded by reporters and a growing crowd all waiting to catch a glimpse of her. To the public and the press she was basically anonymous. They knew her face and envied her net worth but they couldn’t pin a single rumor on her. As scandalous as the life she led might have been Iris West knew how to be discreet and the mystery surrounding her life is the very reason why she wasn’t just another person apart of the wealthy minority.

She stepped inside the lavish auto mobile without so much as a wave in the on-lookers direction and as soon as the doors were closed she drove off with her security detail riding in a black Land Rover behind her.

“Why on earth do we need a will reading exactly? I mean my grandfather had no one but me to leave his estate to and I’ve already taken care of all the charity’s he was associated with."

She’d spoken to all the parties concerned and guaranteed that all her grandfathers monthly and yearly donations would remain on schedule despite his untimely departure. She was an anti-social socialite not an emotionless bitch.

"I don’t understand the logic behind it either but Dr Wells insisted that you attend."

Iris huffed out a frustrated breath and massaged her temple’s with her thumb and middle finger.

"I’m gonna need a pain killer.”

They made a brief stop at the towering black gates and once an armed guard confirmed the identities of all the people in both vehicles they were let through. They drove through the perfectly groomed garden, that was split in the middle by a cobblestone drive way, and pulled up to a gigantic structure. It was a massive building, with just enough floor to ceiling windows to allow for the right amount of privacy. She stepped through the door and made her way up the stair case.

“Where are you going?” Linda asked, her voice alert.

“Les toilettes (the restroom). I need a bath.” she answered taking a short turn to the right and climbing up the remainder of the way.

“But Monsieur Wells will be here any minute.”

“And I pay him handsomely for his time. He can wait."

Iris shut the doors to her suite and took a moment to breathe before she walked to the bathroom and striped off her travel clothes. Her bath was already waiting for her (the servants knew the drill, they kept track of her whereabouts because as soon as she stepped through those doors she needed to have her bath). She stepped into the scalding hot water, the steam rose all around her in twirling wisps carrying with it the unmistakable smell of coconut. Coconut oil did wonders for her skin. She sank into it up to her neck and closed her eyes completely allowing her body to relax.

Her moment of bliss was short lived, however, because a few minutes later a knock came at her door. She cursed under her breath before she told the person to enter.

"Mademoiselle West? Monsieur Wells is here,” came Linda’s voice from the room.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she huffed out and waited for the sound of the door closing before she sank deeper into the tub, not worried that her hair was getting wet. She resurfaced and elevated her body from the bath tub. Without bothering to towel down she wrapped her self into a satin black robe that was decorated with yellow, orange and green flowers at the hems. The fabric stuck to her bare, moist body and her hair left droplets of water in her wake as she exited her room, making her way downstairs.

She found Wells seated in the office with a small cup of coffee in his hands. He stood when he noticed her at the door, ever the gentleman.

“Ms West. Always a pleasure.” he greeted and she walked into the room, slapping on her most convincing (yet neutral) smile.

“Wells. Wish I could say the same but unfortunately the sentiment is not shared.”

She took the seat behind the desk and leaned back into it, crossing her legs and arms in the process.

“Can we speed up the process?” she asked looking far from amused. “Unfortunately not,” he said.

That response was not what she wanted to hear and after the night she had and the long flight Iris found herself losing her composure.

“And why the hell not?” she demanded.

“Because we’re waiting for someone.” Wells answered, loosening his tie as his discomfort grew.

“Who?” Iris asked confused, as far as she was aware she was her grandfather’s only heir. She didn’t have to wait long for an explanation because seconds after she uttered the question the door bell rang.

“I believe that’s him right now.” Wells said standing up to greet the mystery guest. Iris followed suit, her confusion clear on her face.

“Him? Him who?” she asked and the new comer stepped into the room.

“Me.” he said. He was a tall, dark skinned man that looked like he was

somewhere in his late forties. Iris gave him a once over before she folded her arms across her chest and shot him a suspicious look.

“And you are?” She sassed out.

“Joe West. I’m Elvis’s son.”

#westallen #iriswest #barry allen #barry and iris #the flash #the gold standard #candice patton #grant gustin #fan fiction #flash fanfiction #flash fan #fluff #smutty #psychological #romance

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