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helpfandom · 6 months

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Yandere Stobotnik x Platonic Reader Warnings and Talks!

VERY LONG

CW FOR ENTIRE FIC: Kidnapping, Violence, Implied murder, Explicit murder, Swearing, Death, Trauma, and explicit / implicit threatening. I WILL PUT WARNINGS AT EACH CHAPTER AS WELL.

This is mostly going to be me talking about the book's plot and characters in detail, but if you don't want to know what I have in mind and want to go ahead and read, the first chapter should be up when I publish this just know that this(this being the overview chapter) is like ~4.6 pages.

My hope is that my writing is realistic, the world is not a "perfect world" where the only thing wrong is the Yandere itself. I will try to make it be realistic in how people talk, stutter, need clarification after hearing sentences, have tics (verbal + nonverbal) and have things wrong with them. A preposterous idea, I know, but I plan on the MC having trauma about Robotnik and [the plot of the book], I plan on people having a reaction out of things. In the second movie, some of what they wanted to do with the human characters honestly sucked, there isn't much of the human reactions to stuff that wasn't played as a joke [Wade being held hostage by a man who is honestly, much smarter than anyone else - it was just played as a joke, I get it, Sonic 2 was a comedy, but I plan on something a little different.]

Anyway, I have way to many ideas for this, so it's less likely to be coherent the more this goes on unless I can make up my mind. I decided to make this because it's been on my mind and I haven't seen any for this man soo... I honestly really love Platonic and Romantic Yanderes but Platonic Robotnik has been on my mind lately.

Y/n ideas: What I have in mind for Y/N is that they are a little ambiguous depending on certain things ( Such as preference [Theatre kid, Band kid, Dog preferring, Cat preferring, etc.] or looks [Hair, Skin tone, Body type, etc.]) But have defined traits as personality goes; a Chronically online or a bookworm MC, Y/n is in fact going to be a chronically online MC 1, for the fun of it, and 2, because I can't think of a different personality that may go along with the personality that of Robotnik and Stone. MC will also have 2 mental illnesses (both of which I have been diagnosed with) because I know that it will come out in my writing because of my basis of MC, which I reference to myself. I have been diagnosed with OCD, and anxiety.

(OCD has different types, mine is more pattern than cause related, ex: Hyper focus on a pattern [numbers, pages, days, etc.] or if I don't sit in the same spot everyday then I get bad luck. A good example of passive OCD would be Yes Man featuring Jim Carrey ( *Spoiler to Yes Man* as he notices when he says no, he either gets hurt [him falling down the stairs and the dog after saying no to the old lady] or something bad happens, causing him to notice such patterns and develop a fear of saying no). Sorry I just get mad when people say OCD is just washing your hands a lot or everything has to be neat, because they don't know or bother to learn. OCD is more than that, it is about having control in your life.

ANYWAY, as you may have noticed with the previous paragraphs, I tend to break them up according to how long they are or the information given, not 3-5 sentences, I also have a habit of putting a lot of commas in, but to me, they need to be where if you were speaking, you would take a pause because of how the English language is spoken.

To bring me back to my point of Y/n's character, I said that Y/N would be a Chronically online MC, what I mean by that is they are not so chronically online that they start arguments for the sake of it, more so that they don't know how to talk or interact outside of it, so they bring the internet into their personality by: recreating memes that they found funny in order to seem appealing to the person they are trying to befriend, bringing up things that they found on the internet, specifically talking about fandoms and outside of that, have a hard time trying to talk to people and purposefully bring the subject back to something that they can talk about, and end up being more rude than they mean to because it's the internet, of course there are mean people, so you end up being more rude than you expect in real life because you expect the same hostility that people show online to show in the real world.

On the point of me trying to be ambiguous, I will try to be as ambiguous as I can when writing so that you can leave things to your interpretation of your version of Y/N, such as: "It's a glowstick from one of my performances … " This leaves it up for interpretation as to what performance it was, such as a theatre play, an art show, band show, choir, sports, etc. As to what Y/n looks like, I don't think I particularly care, or will provide such instances minus hair being mentioned occasionally. However, I must mention that I will be having the second language that Y/N knows / is learning is German, so that I don't have to rely on Google translate, I may mess up occasionally though, I am still learning.

I forgot to write the backstory so here's a general overview: Mom + Dad = dead. -So mom dies from a heart attack when you were three, Dad dies in service of the military so then Tom took you in and you have been living there for some number of years, Uh, Age is around 14-15. Smart enough to shut the fuck up when needed but not so smart that they are on Genius levels or anything. Tom, Maddie and Y/n's relationship is loosely based off of me and my parents, just going to force more awkwardness in because Y/n is a technical adoption, however Y/n is comfortable enough to open up, Y/n won't open up about their imposter syndrome or call them "Mom" or "Dad" because Y/n still misses their biological family.

I think that's it on Y/N for now.

Robotnik ideas: Of course Robotnik will be OOC because of the nature of Yandere, but I will try to keep to both my idea of this version of Robotnik and the Fandom's version. In my head there is a clear difference between the two movies and their versions, The first movie version has a poised, regal villain, that slowly delves deeper into rage as the one opponent, one enemy of his that will not die (and also the fact that Sonic can be the one thing that can power the machines without needing batteries or man made electricity, thus creating the world that Robotnik wishes to have, a world with just him and his machines, but Sonic won't let that dream be fulfilled no matter how "righteous" the dream is.) - based off of previous aggression issues stated before from Robotnik threating Tom, as well as the bully and the one dude in the bar. The second movie, however, is much different in the way that he feels like a villain that has now had everything taken away from him and he is now on his last nerve and has snapped at some point in time.

Stone Ideas: Of course, it'll be easy to stay with my version of Stone because a lot of fans agree that Stone is in love with Robotnik, this make him an easy character to stick with, especially with so few lines compared to others related to the plot.

Plot/ notes to keep me on track and not go off the rails with a sonic fanfiction

This will go through both Movie 1 and Movie 2.

We have some set up in the first chapter, show people what it'll look like with Y/N in the movie, also show what it was like with Y/N there, show some of Y/n personality and show off the personality with the rest of the cast. I guess Sonic shows up too-?.

So Y/n is more of a scaredy cat; instead of Y/n constantly being 'sassy' to Robotnik or Stone, Y/n understands the amount of danger that they are in -especially after Tom is labeled as a domestic terrorist.- and would rather come out of this relatively trauma free which leads to Y/n being more of a doormat then intended.

This means that Y/n will be quiet and less outspoken after a certain point because Y/n knows when to shut up and be a people pleaser - this does not mean that Y/n is submissive, just smart enough to shut up.

After the interaction with Tom, Y/n gets scared of Robotnik a little, it is kinda scary to see someone who just threatened to torture your parental guardian, and seeing them have the power to call someone a domestic terrorist, therefore the ability to do virtually whatever to the little town or the people in the name of protecting the country, you of course, wish to not piss said person off, which kickstarts a little portion of why Robotnik gets obsessed with Y/n and Stone.

Something that I noticed about the second movie is that no one seems to care that Stone, someone who is working for the government, actively tried to kill the blue blur, gets to stay at town and everyone's fine with this? Sonic doesn't have any aggression or grudges against someone who wanted to take him apart? No, not in my fanfiction.

My apologies if you made it this far, I realize that I went Essay mode on this stupid sonic fanfiction. Thank you for reading (or scrolling) this far down. :)

#platonic yandere #yandere x reader #platonic x reader #tw yandere #x reader #platonic #yandere #headcanon #yandere sonic the hedgehog #yandere stone and robotnik #yandere stobotnik #yandere stone #yandere overview #helpfandom #helpfandom's writing

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dearestones · 1 year

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For the writing ask, 8, 28, & 38 please! :) Hope ur having a great day <33

Hey, Devin here!

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

Oh my gosh, what a delightful question! Let's see...

I think it really depends on what characters I'm using and the scenario that I'm using them in! You see, I can write paragraphs upon paragraphs of scenery, building up to the characters interacting, and I can focus on their actions regarding each other. For me, when characterizing characters, it's not just the dialogue that is a part of them, but also their actions.

Do they twirl their hair when they're bored? Play with the uneven edges of old tables? Tap their feet against the legs of their chair?

On the other hand, I absolutely adore dialogue. With the right identifiers, pauses, and context given through words alone, you can convey what a character is doing, feeling, and how they are effecting their environment, others, and even themselves.

I don't know, you can take these elements by themselves and depending on your execution, can come up with extremely good pieces of fiction if need be.

Of course, if you say entire story... do you mean novel length or one-shot, drabble fic style? For my purposes, I can write a fic that is solely based on the descriptions of characters' actions for maybe... 1-2k words. Perhaps? As for dialogue heavy stuff, since we're focusing mostly on dialogue, maybe a little less or more than 1k.

I don't know, I think it would be an interesting challenge hehehe.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Don't ask me this question! Hehehe!

Let's see....

In the past, it definitely would have been AE-3803 and U-2001 from Cells at Work, Veneziano (North Italy) from Hetalia, and Alastor from Hazbin Hotel.

As of recent memory, that honor belongs to Hacker from Akudama Drive, Tim Wright from Marble Hornets, and Jade Leech from Twisted Wonderland!

(I know, I'm cheating, but bear with me).

Let's break it down!

AE-3803:

She's so cute! Oh my gosh, she's wonderful, resilient, and she is a great foil to U-1146! I went into so many analysis posts between her and U-1146 on my main blog (especially back in 2020-2021) when I was writing my magnum opus of the time, the Abnormalities!verse. I won't get into too many spoilers, but my gosh, I took so many of the characteristics that are canon to her, and then I made her go through it. (What is it, you may ask? Well, I put her through the ringer and she is traumatized). She is delightful in the way that you know at the end of the day, you know she'll get back on her feet no matter how bruised and aching she may be. She'll rise above her traumas and look her tormentors in the eye with both compassion and understanding. But through it all, she will harden her resolve, her weak cell structure turning to steel. She is my baby and she has gone through so much! ;; That isn't to say she isn't wonderful in canon. She is. She serves as one of the more lighthearted aspects of the series and she is a wonderful companion to have when time gets tough, especially in the later chapters.

U-2001:

He's an old man! There's next to nothing about him in canon, but I always headcanon him to be such an old man who loves watching from the sidelines! He doesn't say much, but when he does, you can guarantee that he will be a deadpan snarker and will surprise you with either the world's greatest advice or the dirtiest joke imaginable and you will have to deal with that reality because no one will ever believe you. He is the blorbo that no one else wanted and I adopted way back in 2018. For the real ones who followed from my main blog and used to be bombarded by CAW (mah booiiiii!!!!)

Veneziano:

He's an old man with tons of issues buried underneath a concerningly fractured and thin veneer of clumsiness and ineptitude! I won't say more, but my gosh, I made an entire anthology series for him on ffnet and I participated in a week long event based on prompts which you can view on my main tumblr and on my ao3. Long story short, he is someone who you know has layers upon layers of trauma and personality underneath, but the thing you'll notice upon meeting him is that his smile is radiant, one that draws you in. It isn't until you take a step back that you realize that it's empty and quite sad.

Alastor:

He's a radio demon! It's been a while, but someone once requested to have a deaf! reader x Alastor one shot way back when... and let me tell you... The process behind that fic was something else. Just... I don't know what to say. The zaniness behind his radio personality and the evil that lurks behind his ever present smile? That stuck with me while writing him.

Hacker:

He's a maverick in a world filled with other mavericks! In my fics, I always think him more of the cycnical, younger brother archetypes. It's such a shame that Akudama Drive was short as it was, but from what little of what I've seen of Hacker, he is such a neat charaacter??? I love him so much. His snark, deadpan delivery at times, and snark was a definite bonus when viewing the anime for the first time. Furthermore, his relationship with the main character was also great? They were such an iconic sibling duo who I would die for because the feels! All of the feels! Not only that, but his character plays off the other zany and almost nonsensical rules and other players in the anime. Back when a lot of people used to request me for Akudama Drive, interactions besides x readers were in high demand and seeing some of the weirdest combinations for interactions were the highlight of my day. Seeing him play off with other character archetypes was always a joy to me because he could range from disgruntled, tsundere little brother to someone who can be gigantic thorn in someone's side because he's a little shit who knows too much.

Tim Wright:

He is a man who I can project my fears and mental issues on. That's it. Okay, I kid, but there are so many other people who can write an analysis on him and be loads better than what I can say. What I will admit, however, is that he showed me that life is possible even after years of trauma and repression. That it is worth keeping moving forward, to seek help when possible, and to face the past in order to ultimately heal. In one of my fics, I had to put myself in his shoes and when I did... I just felt simultaneously bittersweet and sad, but at the same time, determined to move forward--to be compassionate and kind.

Jade Leech:

He is the eely perfect character. Nothing else should be said. Hahahah! I'm not sure how obvious it is, but I love Octavinelle as a whole. The aesthetic, the non-human characteristics, the strange things they say or do that denotes them as merfolk and therefore other than humans... It's all there! I could have easily said the same for Azul and Floyd, but with Jade, there's also the underlying philosophy of how the sea works underneath his veneer of a gentleman. He's somewhat cold and calculative, like a scientist who doesn't have the moral or ethical wherewithal to stop experimentaing, hahah! Yet, at the same time, he isn't cruel or needlessly malicious, he's bored and just wants to have fun. He tickles my brain just right and writing his internal observations and what he takes note of is what really gets me.

Have you figured out what are my favorite aspects are when writing characters? ;D

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

I... I don't have a writing process?

I know there are lots of people who say that you have to use outlines or write blurbs or jump back and forth in the timeline, but like...? I don't?

I usually just write as a train of thought and then it happens to turn into a story. Of course, there's the proofreading part, but that usually occurs after I let the fic simmer for a day or two before posting.

Also, I downloaded this extension where everything I type makes a typewriter sound.

It's awesome and it helps me focus.

And the inclusion of listening to the same song on repeat is also a great addition to the writing process.

Thanks for the questions and I hope that you have a wonderful day! :D

Feel free to ask more! :D

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kitkatt0430 · 2 years

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Since I rambled about last weeks episode as I watched it, I'm gonna do that again with this week's episode. So spoilers for The Flash S09E03 - Rogues of War beneath the cut. I'm depending on Hartley Rathaway to make things interesting again, so let's find out if he pulls through for me.

Opens with Fiddler and Boomerang having fun with a break in. I do enjoy their banter. Murmur, though... so creepy. (Yeah, I did see spoilers first so I know who is in the creepy mask.)

Barry and Iris taking cooking lessons in France. I do love that. And does this mean Iris is no longer a lethal chef? Since it took them 40 times in Flashtime... probably not.

But Iris really does not seem thrilled when Barry mentions she'll be pregnant soon. So seems like Ep 1's reveal of Iris' dislike of knowing so much about how her future is meant to happen hasn't been entirely dealt with. I'm not thrilled with this arc tbh. Like... I want to be glad they're finally addressing Iris feeling like she doesn't really have any real agency in her own life. But the time to address that was passed seasons ago. So doing it now feels forced.

oh lovely the app crashed, lets reboot that and hope I can skip forward to the right point.

Khione continues to make me think of Layla from Sky High, what with her interest in nature. And whatever is up with her is more interesting than the ongoing Chester/Allegra stuff.

Ooooh they name dropped the Cosmic Treadmill. I do love the Cosmic Treadmill. And after exposition and flashbacks and more exposition... yay there's Hartley!!!

STAR Labs for safe keeping. *snicker* Iris do you even hear yourself?

Hartley with his grin as he convinces Barry that they should steal shit together is hilarious. Like, he has to be having so much fun with this. Especially since they need more Rogues to pull it off.

Is Khione the official blocker of Chester/Allegra? Please say yes.

I don't remember Jaco right now (am I spelling his name right???) so I'm gonna have to look him up later.

Hartley pissing off Blaine makes me smile. Especially since he dislikes Hartley so much after last episode that Blaine makes a point of saying he isn't taking orders from Hartley. Oh how terrible, Hartley forced you to do the right thing and then pointed out getting drunk won't help. (Like... to some degree, I do get that there may be another source of his resentment of Hartley. If Blaine knows the story about Roderick and how Hartley waited five years to get him back then he may resent Hartley for getting his boyfriend back while Hartley destroyed the one thing that might bring back Frost. Of course, the biggest difference is that Hartley never tried to sacrifice anyone else's life to save Roderick. And, well... Roderick was never actually dead. Paused the show to write this so let's get back to it now.)

Goldface being dramatic and I do love that about him. And it amuses me that his on again, off again with Amunet is off again. And Carver. *cackling with laughter here* "Book club will remain a safe space." Lies apparently. *snicker* Hartley has to be wondering what kind of supervillain Goldface even is at this point. Also judging Barry so hard for his criminal contacts.

Oh... Jaco was in the episode where Iris got to be the Flash. I vaguely remember him now.

The bickering Rogues and Hartley once again asserting he's the smartest person in the room. Oh my arrogant Pied Piper. I do enjoy seeing him be so confident in his brilliance. :D Goldface and Blaine not getting along just makes me like Goldface more. And I already enjoy his character so much this episode.

What even is the point of the Chester/Allegra scene shoehorned in here?

Anyway, more Rogues banter. And Hartley is such a little shit. He's having so much fun pushing people's buttons and of course the Rogues being assholes to each other turns into them united against Barry so that they'll finally work together... which I think was Hartley's plan from the moment he started pushing buttons. He is a chess master who played against Eobard Thawne, after all.

Iris worrying about putting her career on hold to be a mom is pretty understandable. And I think it'd help if maybe she realized that she'll have more than just Barry to lean on when it comes to making time for herself once Nora comes. Joe and Cecile may wind up moving away, but Team Flash will still be there. And theoretically they're a found family.

I'm proud of Chester, making the Wayne Enterprises connection.

Oh, now Khione is enabling the Chester/Allegra. Bad Khione. Stop that.

Barry apologizing to the Rogues is actually kinda sweet. As funny as Goldface figuring out that Barry's the Flash on the spot, it's so much funnier that Jaco is just like 'yeah they got the same Jitter's order, it's obvious'. Had to pause the episode again, that's just hilarious. I may not have remembered Jaco before, but he is certainly memorable now. Barry, Barry, Barry... what is even the point of pretending to have a secret identity at this point?

So I'm kinda expecting Blaine to have betrayed them based on the listening device that showed up earlier. But it is fun to see all four Rogues working together with Barry.

Oh there's the betrayal. Mark Blaine. Asshole. I hate his stupid jacket. It looks terrible.

I do like that Hartley's first instinct is to tell Barry he's on the way to help. Of course, there are three more bad guy Rogues to stop Barry's Rogues from helping him.

De-powered Barry vs Blaine was definitely not gonna go Barry's way, but the Rogues vs Rogues was fun to watch. And Hartley canonically knows ASL!!!!!! Yes!

Jaco and Fiddler stopping mid fight to flirt. I adore them. That was unexpected and so cute.

Goldface naming the Red Death from Edgar Allen Poe. :D

Ooooh, likes like Hartley isn't the only Rogue sticking around. Goldface and Jaco will be helping out more this season too. Doesn't seem like they'll be in the next episode though, but I guess I'll know for sure when I check out the trailer for episode four.

Ryan has been missing for how long? And Team Flash is only finding out now? Why are these super hero teams so bad at reaching out to each other for help?

Fiddler is my fav bad Rogue now. Between flirting with Jaco and calling Blaine 'abs' mockingly, she's fun. And Blaine finding out that maybe he's in over his head now is exactly what he deserves.

Now for post episode thoughts.

Khione still doesn't seem to have a purpose. If she's supposed to be the right hero at the right time, then it may be a slog to get there. But right now, Caitlin would be a much more useful character than Khione is. So while Khione is sweet, that's all she seems to have going for her at the moment.

Chester/Allegra feel even more like a romantic plot tumor when there's Fiddler/Jaco's instant chemistry there to compare it to. Or last week's flirting with Hartley/Roderick.

Murmur trying to recruit Hartley was unexpected, but interesting in what it says about the respect Hartley must have commanded before he retired to run the club with Roderick. Especially since Goldface recognized Hartley once he identified himself as the Pied Piper. I'm not sure what to do with that yet, but it'll wind up expanded on in fanfic form eventually. I do like it's continuation on the last episode's themes about change, though. Hartley, when offered the chance to join the bad guys, turns the opportunity down because that's not who he chooses to be anymore. Compared to Blaine who presumably sought out Red Death's side because he cares more about his grief than what Frost would actually want. Much as I don't like Blaine, the narrative foil set up between him and Hartley is actually kinda interesting.

However. Does not look like we're getting more Hartley next week based on the trailer for episode 4, but maybe we'll learn how Ryan became the Red Death and if she's even our universe's Ryan? It'd be interesting if this is how the multiverse were to be reintroduced to the show. Probably not, but it's a thought.

Since ep3 was a more lighthearted episode, I'm expecting ep4 and ep5 (since they seem to be a two parter based on the naming) to be much darker. Which the teaser trailer seems to back up.

Despite the lack of Hartley, I think I'll tune in anyway next week. I mean, he might show up? And even if he doesn't, I don't want to miss out on important plot points for later. For now anyway. This season does seem better than what I saw of S8, but honestly it's a low bar to clear and my faith in the show runners/writers is pretty much gone.

(I'm still rooting for anyone to stab Mark Blaine in a dark alleyway. Because I'm afraid they're gonna give him yet another redemption arc. Undeservedly. Though it'd be great if he did not get a redemption arc and then Hartley gets to curbstomp him.)

#kitkatt0430 watches #the flash #season 9 #season 9 spoilers #the flash spoilers #s09e03 rogues of war #rogues of war #every so often i misspell rogue as rouge

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paradisetemporarilymisplaced · 3 years

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So I was being a basic bitch the other day and listening to my true crime podcasts when it occurred to me just how suspicious Nile’s “death” would look to everyone not in the Guard, leading me to a train of thought that, 2200 words later, absolutely got away from me but I can’t let go so I’m inflicting it on all of you!

To set the stage, we know the movie takes place over approximately a week. Here’s what happens to Nile from the military’s point of view:

She dies is very seriously injured

She heals without a scratch

Just before she’s supposed to be shipped out to Germany, she vanishes, leaving two men concussed (and presumably reporting being knocked out by a woman with short hair wearing civilian clothes)

She goes AWOL for several days

They get word from the CIA that she is to be reported killed in action (details unclear)

So, at the beginning of this very weird week, the USMC has to tell Nile’s family of her death critical injury. What her family was told depends on how long she was dead – a Google search tells me that family will be notified in person within 8 hours of a soldier’s death, but we don’t know how long her first death lasted. For an injury, however, they’d get a phone call to notify them and the unit would arrange for them to visit as soon as the soldier is transferred out of a combat zone. Like I remember when I was in high school, a guy from my church who was a Marine was really seriously injured in a helicopter crash in Iraq and from what I could tell, his parents were told immediately and were flown out to Germany to see him, so it stands to reason that Nile’s family would have been informed relatively quickly after her throat was slashed, one way or another.

And then, she goes AWOL. Her family would be notified while the USMC tried to figure out where she went, not least because the military would want to know if she’s contacted them. (And it’s possible that her family may have been on the way to Germany to see her since we know that’s where she was supposed to go!) So for several days:

Nile’s mom and brother have no idea where she is

They know she was seriously injured and most certainly should not have been moving around on her own

They can’t get a hold of her

The military can’t tell them anything

And the next thing they know for sure is that she was “killed in action.” After being injured and vanishing into thin air. And they presumably cannot produce her body or any concrete evidence of her death. In any case, something sketchy is going on, so they’re like. SMELLS LIKE A MILITARY COVERUP.

In a surprise to probably no one, there is a well-documented legacy of mysterious US military deaths, particularly of women of color (TW for sexual assault in these links). The cases of LaVena Johnson and Vanessa Guillenin particular have made national news because of their families’ persistence in seeking justice. Likewise, Nile is a Black woman, and her mom and brother are most certainly hypercognizant of (a) state violence against Black people and (b) these high-profile cases of suspicious military deaths. So her family are seriously side-eyeing the situation, knowing that (a) the military has a serious incentive (and a documented history) of covering up things that make them look bad and (b) nothing about Nile’s disappearance and supposed death are adding up.

And Andy’s right. Nile does come from warriors. And you know who else does? Her brother.

Don’t get me wrong. Nile’s mom would absolutely not back down. She’d know something was up and want to get to the bottom of it. But based on what I know about Gen X parents (mine), they’re not the most technologically savvy. Like they can use the internet, but they didn’t grow up with it the way we young millennials and Gen Z did. So Nile’s brother takes the lead. And what do zillennials do best?

Social media.

Nile’s brother starts going hard on any site he can, trying to get the word out to see if anyone knows what happened to his sister. He starts a Reddit thread. He starts a Facebook group. He reaches out to the media and true crime bloggers and podcasters à la Sarah Turney, getting loud and being a general nuisance in hopes of getting some answers. He gets his friends and Nile’s friends involved. Maybe eventually Dizzy, Jay, and others from Nile’s unit hear about it and reach out, telling him what they saw and how weird it all was. He’s drumming up interest, and soon “Nile Freeman” becomes a household name (at least among the true crime fans).

Copley is, of course, trying his best, but at this point there is just so much that it’s impossible for him to scrub everything. Sure, he can erase new footage of Nile and the Guard, but what can he do about Reddit threads and podcast episodes that are speculating something weird has happened? Maybe he could hack the sites and shut those things down, but honestly, that’s the last thing he’d want to do, because that only adds weight to the theory that Nile’s disappearance is a military coverup. So eventually he has to tell Andy what’s going on.

Andy, obviously, does not take the news well. However, she is also completely computer illiterate, because that’s Booker’s job and he’s the only one who ever bothered to learn what the internet is in any meaningful way. (She probably calls Booker for advice, and for the record, I think Booker would have no qualms about shutting down conspiracy threads, tinhats be damned, but Copley is too concerned about the consequences. He’s ex-CIA for crying out loud, he knows how it’ll look if they scrub every mention of Nile’s name from the internet.) Maybe she confers with Joe and Nicky but, let’s be honest, they’d be equally unhelpful. So at this point, she knows they have to bring in Nile.

But the thing about Nile is that she, too, knows how to use the internet (duh). Aside from her being a young millennial/digital native, we know from the cave scene where she’s giving Booker suggestions on how to track Copley that she clearly is even more computer savvy than the average person. And for that reason she almost definitely took over the day-to-day tech stuff after Booker’s exile. So I think it would be foolish to expect her to be unaware of what’s happening. She’s not contacting her family or posting on the message boards or anything, but she knows what’s up. So Copley and the team probably sit her down to “break the news,” but we know the girl does not have a poker face (see: literally shooting herself in the foot and not being able to play it cool whatsoever) and cracks immediately, telling them she’s seen everything about her case – she’s not interacting with any of it, she certainly didn’t instigate anything, but she knows. (And she is so goddamn proud of her brother.)

At this point, I’d like to pause and consider Nile’s role in the overall narrative of this movie. She’s set up as a foil to Andy, obviously, but she’s also a foil to Booker. Booker, who, like Andy, is a serious pessimist, but who, unlike Andy, still has very fresh memories and trauma associated with being the new kid, which have destroyed him. In his mind (and Andy’s), if Nile communicates with her family, she’ll become just like him in a century or two – bitter, alone, and stuck with her grief and memories of watching her family die and knowing they died resenting her. It’s a small sample size, but this is the only experience they have to go off of.

But it doesn’t have to be like that.

There’s been a lot of discussion of TOG being a fundamentally queer movie – a group of people brought together because of something inherent about themselves that is different, that must be hidden, that causes others to hate, fear, and reject them. Booker’s backstory is the archetypal traumatic “coming out” story – his family learns who he is, hate him for it, and attempt to cast him out of their lives. He’s stuck with his trauma, his pain, his loss, and it consumes him.

But what if Nile’s family would be the opposite? What if her “coming out” to them as immortal is met with acceptance, love, celebration? What if her family is just overjoyed to have her back, and they don’t care what the circumstances are? I'm reminded of this incredible post from @shitty-old-guard-deaths a while back, where Nile’s mother hits Booker with a frying pan because “my baby let me believe she was dead for FIVE YEARS based on your bad advice???” (which may or may not have inspired this whole tangent). Nile takes the advice of someone who did the same thing she wants to do because she doesn’t want to risk her family’s rejection. She wants the good memories with her family and is afraid that showing them her true self will bring her unbearable pain, forever replacing those memories. But, with high risk comes high reward.

Anyway. Nile and the team are trying to come up with a plan for how to handle this whole thing, but she’s not really participating because she’s too afraid to hope. Until finally, quickly, so she doesn’t lose her nerve, she suggests she reach out to them, knowing that, realistically, that’s the only solution before things snowball even further out of control. The team is shocked, but realize that she has a point. They decide that Copley should actually be the first point of contact, posing as a US government official to talk with them and test the waters.

So Copley goes to Nile’s family’s house to talk with her mom and brother. They’re probably distrustful and apprehensive, but nonetheless secretly ecstatic that their work has paid off. They talk and review all of the information that they’ve collected, including testimonials from the people on Nile’s base and recent sightings (along with photos) of Nile (with the same three people) over the last few years that people have sent them but they haven’t posted publicly. At this point, Copley’s like, yeah this is about to blow up, we gotta put our cards on the table. He convinces them to come with him to some safe house/black site/whatever he can get that is technologically impenetrable (I’m picturing them in like, an interrogation room at a police station kind of deal), takes their phones, locks the doors, and brings in Nile.

What follows is the most delightful reunion scene of all time, bringing Joe, Nicky, and even Andy to tears as they watch and listen from outside the room. With Copley’s help, Nile tells her mom and brother about her immortality and what’s been going on since she died (within reason, of course), and they are thrilled. They don’t understand why (because no one does) but they don’t question it and they see it as a gift from God – she’s been resurrected, she will live, and she has a purpose. Her mother and brother are so happy to see her again and are willing to agree with pretty much anything to stay in her life as long as they can.

So. They set up some complicated agreement (they bring in the other three for support/intimidation as needed) setting the terms of their relationship. They swear Nile’s family to secrecy, maybe bringing up the lab to show how high the stakes are, and they readily agree. They come up with some cover story for Nile’s brother to share on the message boards (maybe that the government has opened an investigation but because it’s an open case he has to shut it all down? Tells people to direct their tips somewhere else? Something to that effect). There’s still speculation, of course, but without Nile’s brother at the helm providing the energy, the hype dies down as news stories are wont to do without any movement. And Nile’s family goes to work for the team. The experience has taught them that Copley can’t possibly do everything himself, especially when it comes to social media, so Nile’s brother takes the lead on the day-to-day tracking/social media while Copley and her mom focus on finding jobs and scrubbing their traces afterward.

So there you have it: Nile gets to integrate her biological family into her found family and spend the rest of their lives with them as it should be, Copley gets some badly needed help managing the reality of social media, the team finally has a positive narrative surrounding outsiders Knowing About Them AND about interacting with people from their previous life, and the audience gets the happy ending to this very lovely and very queer story to counteract the pain associated with Booker’s family.

Plus, you know, I’m a sucker for both a good government conspiracy theory and for Nile getting every good thing she deserves.

#the old guard #tog #tog fanfiction #tog meta #immortal family #nile freeman #mine #damn look at me contributing to a fandom! that’s new #pls reblog if you like this my self esteem could really use it #I just love nile so much and I’m being the nile-centric content I want to see in the world #it is just genuinely nuts to think abt how this situation would be perceived by anyone outside the narrative #she just mysteriously heals from a fatal injury and then VANISHES!!! this should be national fuckin news #also I do think there’s a major hole in the story when you think abt social media #like the only time it’s even hinted at is right at the very beginning when Andy erases that girl’s selfie #and the concept of fuckin Reddit is not even brought up despite Copley’s stalker board being analog Reddit #there’s just a lot of places one could go with this which is very much what we got here #1k

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

Text

The Song of Death

FIRST LAST LIFE WRITING!!! god this first session has inspired me SO much and i can't wait to see where this all goes!

...

The red writing is imprinted in his brain. Just two words, changing the objective and potentially the outcome of his first day here. And maybe even his entire game.

Finally, Etho breaks the silence: “You’re not the boogeyman, right?”

Bdubs shakes his head, keeping his voice steady. “No, no I’m not. Are you?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Unfortunately?”

Etho shrugs. “I dunno, it would’ve been cool to be able to just go ham right away and murder a person, but maybe it’s better like this. I mean…” He takes a slightly nervous step back. “If you WERE the boogeyman, you wouldn’t kill me right here, would you?”

“Why not?” Bdubs’s eyes flash briefly. “All alliances are off when you’re the boogeyman. And we’re not even allies.”

“We’re not?” asks Etho.

“Well, not yet. Do you wanna be allies?”

Etho thinks about this for a second. “Depends if you’re gonna kill me whether we are or not. I can take you murdering me but not betrayal. Not this early.”

Bdubs clears his throat. “Well, I’m not the boogeyman. So sure, I’ll make this alliance.”

“Really?” Etho says in mild surprise.

“Yeah. I like you. We can help each other survive the early game.”

“Huh. Okay, then! Guess you’re stuck with me forever.”

Bdubs snorts as he starts to mine further down the hole they’re in. “Forever?! I honestly doubt I’ll last twenty minutes with you.”

“Like I’m the annoying one in this partnership, Mr Five-Eight,” snickers Etho.

Sure enough, he gets the reaction he expected in a choked squawk from his close friend. “I’m five-TEN!”

“Uh huh.”

…

“Hey look, there’s Grian!” Bdubs beckons Etho over towards the enchanting table set up at spawn. “Grian!”

Etho follows Bdubs over to the table, where Grian is just pulling his enchanted boots back on.

“Hey, guys,” he says, his muscles tensing slightly. “You two aren’t the boogeyman, right?”

“I’m very sure Bdubs is not,” replies Etho confidently. “We’ve been caving together for about an hour and a half, most of it alone. He would’ve had no reason not to kill me.”

“I can say the same about Etho,” Bdubs adds.

Grian visibly relaxes. “Good.”

He takes off his chestplate and starts to enchant it.

“Hey Etho, you got the record?” asks Bdubs pointedly, setting down the jukebox.

Etho nods and slips the record into the box, causing the haunting song to start playing.

“What is that?” Grian snickers.

Bdubs crouches ominously. “This is the song of death.”

“Yeah, when you hear this song, it means somebody’s about to die,” jokes Etho.

Grian laughs. “Oh PLEASE tell me one of you is the boogeyman so you can actually do this.”

“I am.”

Etho doesn’t have time to process these two words before Bdubs charges at Grian and attacks him with his sword. Gasping, Etho hurriedly backs away, eyes wide with fear, as Bdubs continues to furiously attack Grian, who is so taken by surprise that he’s hardly able to get his shield up.

As Grian lets out a screech, Etho rushes towards Bdubs in a daze, totally unprepared for battle. The emotional part of his brain is screaming at him to do something, anything. Save Grian. Stop Bdubs. Just do someth-

Grian was slain by BdoubleO100

Adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Bdubs turns to Etho, opening his mouth to jubilantly brag about his kill.

But he stops as he registers that Etho has frozen, staring at him with terrified eyes, his body lowered slightly as if ready to bolt at any second.

“Etho?” says Bdubs hesitantly, reaching out towards him.

Etho immediately backs away a few steps, moving his shield into position to protect him. “Stay back…!”

“Etho, it’s okay!” Bdubs reassures him, quickly lowering his sword. “It’s okay, I’m cured now. I can’t kill anyone else. You’re safe, buddy.”

Etho watches him nervously. The spark of red in Bdubs’s eyes that Etho noticed when he attacked is gone now, leaving only genuine emotion. So after a moment, Etho relaxes, lowering his shield slightly. “You really were it?”

Bdubs nods. “Yup.”

“The whole time?”

“The whole time.”

As Etho pauses again, Grian reappears with all his stuff, looking more than a little disgruntled. “Tell me you didn’t know,” he snaps at Etho. “TELL ME you didn’t know he was it!”

“I didn’t!” Etho says hurriedly. “I promise, I didn’t know!”

“I didn’t tell him,” confirms Bdubs. “Etho had no part in this.”

Grian angrily turns on him. “He just stood there and let you kill me!”

“You really think he’s gonna get in the way of a boogeyman charging in for the kill?” Bdubs snaps back. “Leave Etho alone. He’s not culpable here.”

Finally, Grian huffs and turns away. “Fine. Just stay away from me.”

“Can do. C’mon, Etho.”

Etho dithers as Bdubs and Grian start walking away in opposite directions, torn between going with his ally and apologising to his friend. His former friend.

“Etho, c’mon,” Bdubs says again.

Etho quickly trots to catch up with his friend, shooting him a sideways glance. “Why didn’t you kill me, Bdubs?”

“Hmm?” Bdubs glances back at him. “What do you mean?”

“We were alone together so much. You had every opportunity to kill me. Why didn’t you, if you were the boogeyman all along?”

Bdubs is silent for a while, then he hops up onto a tree stump and gazes down at Etho with an odd expression. “Cuz we’re allies. And I want you to remember this for the future if you become the boogeyman.”

“Remember you not killing me?” Etho says with a frown. “I thought all bets are off when you’re boogeyman.”

“They are. What I’m telling you to remember is how many times I could’ve killed you but didn’t. You owe me.”

Etho blinks. “Owe you?”

“Unofficially,” clarifies Bdubs. “More like a gentleman’s debt. Just a promise that if you become boogeyman, you won’t kill me.”

After a brief hesitation, Etho scrutinises his old friend closely. “Really? That’s it?”

“Yeah. Listen, Etho; you’re one of my oldest friends. I want this alliance to go far. But I can’t fully relax around you knowing that you could kill me any time a boogeyman is assigned. Know what I mean?”

Etho doesn’t respond.

“And besides, there’s fifteen other people on the server you could go for,” Bdubs adds. “R-Right?”

Etho can hear the slightest hint of desperation creeping into Bdubs’s voice, and he realises now what this is about. Last season, Bdubs formed an alliance on the first day that carried him through until her death. He wants that again. Maybe he NEEDS it again.

And after being betrayed by Impulse last season, maybe Etho needs that too.

“Right,” he says finally. “But you won’t betray me, right? I know our alliances won’t carry through to our last life, but can we at least make a promise that we won’t kill each other immediately?”

“Why’s that, Etho?” asks Bdubs teasingly. “Don’t think you can bring yourself to kill a former ally?”

Etho hesitates. “Let’s just say… last season, I was faced with that exact situation and I froze, and it cost me my last life. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Oh.” Bdubs falls silent for a moment, knowing exactly what Etho is referring to. “Well… okay, then. We may not be allies anymore once one of us turns red but I promise that I’ll spare you as much as possible.”

“Thanks, Bdubs. I promise the same.”

Bdubs grins at his friend and hops down from the stump. “Good. Now c’mon, let’s go make a base.”

Etho falls into step behind him. “So… was it scary?”

“Being the boogeyman? Oh yeah, it was terrifying. I kept thinking I’d turn on you at any moment, like I wouldn’t have any control over myself. And when I made the decision to kill Grian, I…” He hesitates. “I was so sweaty and nervous. So I don’t think it’s like Among Us with the whole imposter instinct to kill or being a red lifer with the bloodlust driving you on. You gotta genuinely turn on someone you care about and kill them to preserve your own existence in this world.”

“Wow.” Etho suppresses a shiver. “That’s brutal.”

Bdubs nods slowly, recalling the horror he experienced when his sword sliced through his friend. How Etho and Grian had both looked at him with pure fear after he did it. The guilt gnawing at him despite being free of the boogeyman curse.

“That’s Last Life.”

#last life smp #last life spoilers #3rd life spoilers #etho #bdubs #grian #vaunna writes

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arson-404 · 3 years

Text

Hello! @bubblyani inspired me to make this!

Truth | 01

Warnings: 18+, lime, blood, death, murder, suicide, depression

Fandom: Lucifer

Pronouns used for reader: she/her (reader is also AFAB)

Enjoy, loves. <3

"Please? It'll be so much fun!"

Your friend said, putting an emphasis on 'fun'.

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "Fine, but if either of us gets kidnapped at this club, it's not my fault."

"Oh my God, you're so dramatic."

"It's my talent. When are we going? I have work to do today." You asked, fumbling with a shirt that was on the floor of your bedroom.

"Does eleven o'clock work?"

You glanced over to the clock, reading the time.

7 PM.

You'd be done with work at around eight-thirty.

Thinking for a moment, you reluctantly agreed. "Okay. LUX, right?"

"Yay! Yeah, the owner's super hot. And so is one of the bartenders. Maya? Macie? Something with an 'a' and 'm'."

"Gosh, you thirst over everyone."

"You would, too, if you saw them! Which you will. Well, I don't know if the bartender will be there, but—"

You two talked a while, until you had to do your at-home work.

You liked working at home because you didn't really like going out to work for countless hours, but sometimes it was nice to let loose.

Like at this club you were going to go to, which you were kind of nervous about.

Your mind gave you flashbacks of one night when you just turned twenty-one and went to a club with your friends, Hørizon was the name.

⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣

The sounds of booming music made it's way to your ears, your head pounding.

"Five shots of whiskey over here!"

"Um, I- I don't think I ca..." Too drunk, you couldn't even finish your sentence, as you wobbled a bit in your seat.

A minute later, a whiskey shot was in front of you — too drunk and tempted, you grabbed the small glass, gulping it down.

Delilah's friend, Tina, paid for the drinks.

The burning sensation in your throat didn't affect you much after the many shots you took before.

Your head turned to your best friend, Delilah, -which you had just met a few weeks ago at this time-, who was selecting the first contact in her phone to call, since she was a little too drunk to dial a number manually.

"Heeeeeyy, Fionaa, we're at a club." She slurred her words a bit, giggling. You could hear the faint voice from the phone.

"Oh my God, are you drunk?" Delilah only giggled in response, too drunk to make a coherent response. "Okay, I'm assuming you're at that one club you went to last week, right?" "Mmmhm!" "Are you with anyone else?" "Errr... like, my friends."

You could practically feel Delilah's friend pinch her nose. "How many?" "Uhhh... one... two... four..." She paused. "Fourth!" She said, giggling, adding a -th to the word she meant to say.

"Alright. You're lucky you're my... friend."

And then you blacked out, waking up at Delilah's apartment on the couch, others on the floor or sharing the couch with you.

You still remember that awful hangover you had afterwards.

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You chuckled at the memory, stretching a bit. After finishing an essay for your boss, revising and editing it, you glanced at the clock, checking the time.

8:51 PM.

It was definitely past 8:30, but you weren't going until eleven.

You had time to pick out your outfit, relax, and do some housework if you wanted to -which you didn't want to-.

Standing up, leaving the chair you'd been glued to for almost two hours, you sighed, making your way to the closet.

You rummaged through it, and after a little, you found an outfit you liked.

Humming, you put it on your bed, along with your extra wallet (which had less money than your normal wallet, so when you went to the club, you wouldn't lose a bunch of money from being robbed or losing it) and some water to put in Delilah's car to sober up after the club.

You checked your phone before putting it on your charger.

Footsteps padded against the floor as you made your way to the couch to watch some of your favorite show, 'The Good Doctor'.

⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣

'Some' turned into almost three hours.

And now you had eleven minutes to get ready.

You rushed to the bathroom to do your makeup — not like anyone would see it, anyway. But you liked doing your makeup, not because you were insecure, but because you just liked trying new styles.

And you really liked eyeliner.

(Reference picture, I think it's Niki Nihachu, but I'm not sure.)

After you were done, you shoved the makeup into your container in the bathroom, hastily going to your room, fumbling with the clothing to put it on.

After about five minutes, you succeeded, and grabbed your phone from the charger, opening your messaging app up.

You

Hey, you ready?

Seen at 10:57 PM.

Lilah 💖

yep. i'm already headed there.

Seen at 10:57 PM.

You

Don't text while driving.

Seen at 10:57 PM.

And don't respond to this.

Seen at 10:58 PM.

You turned off your phone, putting it in your pocket, grabbing your stuff, your wallet shoved in your other pocket, two bottles of water in the other hand.

A few minutes later, your door opened to reveal your friend in a clubbing outfit, her curly black hair mostly laying on her right shoulder.

She had a see-through black top with another top under it, the same color.

Delilah had a black bag, the actual bag part laying on her right hip, the strap on her left shoulder.

She had a black skirt-shorts with a red and black plaid flannel tied around her waist.

The beautiful woman also had long, black, high heeled boots, going up to under her knees, but short enough to walk.

Her tattoos were slightly visible on the lower thighs.

(What I based her off of. Not sure who this is!)

"If I wasn't planning on making a move on that bartender — if she's there, I would try to date you, oh my God, you're gorgeous." Her lips formed a flirtatious, but platonic joke.

"Oh my gosh, you're definitely prettier, what the hell do you mean?" You smiled, winking.

"Alright, you've convinced me, I'm prettier." She said, shrugging her shoulders. You let out a playful pout, "Damn, I'm so broken."

"Whatever, you'll get over it. Let's go!" She smiled, tugging your arm, taking the water bottles and putting it in her bag so you could lock the door.

⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣

Soon, you both arrived at the fancy, famous club called LUX.

Excitedly, your friend, Delilah, got in line with you, figuratively jumping up and down with joy.

"Oh my God, you'll love it here, Y/n. All of the men, women, and enbys are definitely gonna hit on you, bae."

"Assuming I'd be confident enough to let them approach me."

She rolled her eyes, chuckling.

You both got closer and closer to the doors of the provocative strip club, you both paid your halves when you finally approached the doors.

Stepping into the building, you both smiled. 'This time, I won't drink as much.' You promised yourself.

Oh, how promises break.

Immediately, Delilah went to the bar — partly for the drinks, but mostly because she saw a particular bartender.

Giggling at the absurdity of her actions, you went to a couch, not drunk enough to have confidence to talk to people or dance — not that most of them would remember, considering how many had drinks in their hands.

You fiddled with a silver ring you had bought about a month ago, which laid on your index finger.

"Why, hello! I've never seen you here before! I would remember a face like yours." A velvet voice was heard, oddly close to you.

'Wait, are they talking to me?'

You whipped your head up, mouth parted a little.

There stood a tall, dark haired man with dark eyes, a black suit with a slightly visible white shirt under it, black, shiny shoes on his feet.

You swallowed. "Hello..."

You should've gotten drunk beforehand.

⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣

Hello, everyone! I have no clue how drinking or hangovers work, or strip clubs, since I'm 18, but I hope it's not too far off. 🖤

Sorry it took so long to get to Lucifer, it's more of an introduction to some characters in this chapter.

Also, Delilah is bisexual, and goes by she/they.

The reader is possibly bi-curious, it depends on your view of the reader. <33

Delilah may have a lil' crush on Maze and just thinks Lucifer is hot, haha

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer imagines #lucifer morningstar imagines #x reader #female reader

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deannaroxannewrites · 3 years

Text

Tropetember Day 7 - Mutual Pining / Requited/Unrequited Love / Angst with a happy ending

My boys

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: Teen and up

TW: Angst (all of the angst), Angst with a happy ending, Witness Protection

AN: Day 7 of @tropetember. Another Hotch story that could be expanded into a small series. Enjoy the angst (and fluff because I CANNOT HELP MYSELF)

You've been looking to spending a quiet day with your boys, until a phone call turns your world upside down.

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.6k

You were in the middle of pottering around the kitchen putting your groceries away when the phone rang.

Glancing at it, you realise it’s Aaron. Why would he be ringing you right now? Jack’s soccer game wouldn’t have been finished for very long and they usually got a treat before coming to visit you.

You answer with a smile, you were looking forward to spending the day with your boys.

“Hi sweetie, what can I do for you?” You ask.

Aaron says your name and his voice shakes. You instantly stop what you’re doing. Something is wrong. Something really bad is happening. You can tell.

“Scratch.” He takes a shuddering breath. “Scratch was at Jack’s game.”

You gasp and panic floods through you.

“Is he ok? Are you both ok? He didn’t get to either of you did he?”

"No, he didn't."

There's a pause and you feel your heart start to calm. At least they're OK, although you can't figure out what's happening. Unfortunately, your relief at them both being unharmed is immediately destroyed.

"Jack and I are being put into witness protection."

You hear the glass you were holding smash as it connects with the marble floor of the kitchen. It's funny, you feel like a spectator in your own body. The only other thing you're aware of is that you feel like you can't breathe.

Aaron calls your name a few times but you're hyper fixated on one thing he says. 'Jack and I.' Not we. Why hadn't he said we?

"Can I not come too?" Your voice is small. Lost. "If this madman is following Jack, he'll know who I am, Aaron."

You hear him exhale.

"I know. I tried to get the Marshals to offer you the choice of coming with us." You imagine he's scrubbing his hand down his face in frustration. "They said that, since Scratch's focus is the team, and I will no longer be around or know what's happening, you will no longer be at risk." He lets out a scoff.

Tears silently trace down your face. Your world was ending but, no matter how much you wanted to beg and scream and demand they stay, this was already a done deal. Jack's safety was the most important thing in the world and you wouldn't dare risk it for your selfish desires.

"OK." You take a moment to breathe and clear your throat. "Can you do something for me?"

"Of course."

"Tell Jack I love him? Give him a big hug and kiss and tell him that I'll see him when this is over?"

That breaks him, and he quietly sobs out your name.

"You're going to be OK. Both of you. And I'll be here waiting." You take a shaky breath. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm putting everything into your name. I don't mind if you move into the apartment or if you rent it out and put everything in storage. Just try to hold onto the keepsakes and Jack's stuff."

"I've got it. Don't worry. It's in good hands."

"The very best." He gives a shaky laugh. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault Aaron. God, I love you so much."

You both go quiet, knowing you don't have long until the Marshals disconnect his number.

"I can't ask you to wait for me." He tells you. It makes a sob break through your restraint. "That would be selfish of me. Just know that I love you. And, once this is over, we'll see you again."

"I know, it's OK. I love you."

"I…."

The line goes dead and, like the glass spread across the floor, you break.

---------

The weeks following are hazy in your memory. You imagine it's not totally dissimilar to a bereavement. After all, you'd discussed seeing each other again, but you both knew that there was a chance it may not happen. Scratch had been evading law enforcement for months with ease. He was watching Jack and no-one even knew. It didn't bode well.

Time continued to pass. Eventually, from around the 6th month mark, people started offering to set you up with friends/relatives/colleagues. You weren't getting any younger they kept saying. You can't miss out on the rest of your life.

It was something you were well aware of. You were only a couple of years younger than Aaron so you were moving past your prime, particularly if you wanted to have kids of your own. You couldn't do it though. It just felt wrong when Aaron was out there alone somewhere with a new name and identity. How could you move on? Instead, you focussed on work, even getting a promotion for your efforts.

You didn't move into the apartment, you couldn't bring yourself to. You and Aaron had been discussing moving, and potentially purchasing a proper house with a garden Jack play soccer in in the future, mere days before everything happened. It was just another thing that didn't feel right. Instead, you moved the important things out to Dave's basement. He had the space and it would be much safer than a storage locker. It also helped sooth his guilt over the fact that none of the team were supposed to have much contact with you to try and keep you off Scratch's hotlist.

Since you didn't need the income from the apartment, you instead approached a charity who worked with women and families escaping domestic violence. You'd offered them the apartment at a reduced rate for short term lets that rolled month by month, with potential to go up to a year. The plan was to give people time to get back on their feet and regain their independence in a safe and secure environment.

You'd had two small families in so far. Both had moved on after securing jobs with good salaries and new full time accommodation. They were both keeping you updated about how they and their kids were doing, and you were happy that you were able to help them even just a little. It was empty at the moment and you were busy organising some basic maintenance and were going to repaint some of the rooms to freshen it up.

You'd just been on the phone with Derek, who'd offered to do the small repair jobs you needed doing, when someone knocked at the door.

Glancing at the clock and seeing it was nearly 9pm, you paused and texted Derek as a safety precaution. It was probably nothing, but better safe than sorry.

The knock sounded again, a little more urgent this time, and you hustled to the door to open it.

When you realised who was on the other side, your knees gave way.

There in front of you, looking almost exactly the same as when he left, was Aaron with Jack peeking out from behind him.

Realising what was happening, he reached out to steady you and you threw yourself into his arms, sobbing as if your life depended on it.

He held you just tightly, rocking from side to side until you pulled back. You lower yourself into a crouch and hold your arms out to Jack, who collides with you with enough force to knock you on your behind.

You both laugh as you land on the floor, a light, carefree combination of sounds that tinkles around the room as you press kisses all over his face. Aaron bobs down to join the hug before helping you both to your feet and guiding you all to your sofa.

"I'm so glad you're both back" you tell them. Jack is snuggled into your lap and you're snuggled into Aaron. Declarations of love pass easily and frequently between the three of you and it fills you with warmth.

You spend the evening catching up with them. Apparently Scratch had been caught at the end of last week but it had taken this long for word to get through to the Marshals and for them to organise transferring them home.

Jack tells you over dinner (pizza, Jack picked) about his school and all the things he's learnt since the last time he saw you. Aaron tells you about his cover job as a law clerk in the backwater town of Nowhere, Iowa. In return, you tell them about how you got promoted at work and what you've done with the apartment in their absence. Aaron's eyes shine with pride as you explain the cause and you know it's one that's close to his heart.

Before you know it, it's almost midnight and Aaron is suggesting they go back to the hotel that they've been set up in for the next few days. You won't allow that though. They'll be lucky if they're allowed to leave your sight ever again.

You all brush your teeth together in the bathroom while joking around before getting sorted and all clambering into your bed together.

Wrapped in Aaron's arms, with Jack tucked up against your side, you finally feel whole for the first time since that dreaded phone call.

"My boys," you gently sigh. "I love you both".

Aaron presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and you let the sound of their breathing calm you as you fall into the deepest nights sleep you've had in forever.

Even better, they're still there when you wake up.

#Tropetember #fanfiction #Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #angst #angst with a happy ending #witness protection #jack hotchner

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httpsaiki · 4 years

Note

Congrats on 300 love! I don’t think I’ve requested something yet from you even though I love your writing! Anyway, could I request a fic where Teruhashi and the (fem)reader are dating(usually I don’t mind what pronouns the reader has but for this one it’s kinda relevant. But you can make it gender neutral if you want)? So the two have been dating for a few months. The reason Teruhashi entered this relationship wasn’t because of “love” but because she wanted to get her fans off her back and what better was to do that than enetering a relationship with another girl. She this that it may help get her male fans off her and at first it’s great. Then the reader starts to see the relationship declining. At first Teruhashi was sweet and kind but now she is kind of rude to the reader, saying things like how she is embarrassing her or that if Teruhashi is so perfect why isn’t her s/o capable of being that way too. Mean ik (I don’t like Teruhashi if you couldn’t tell), the reader is also dealing with comments from her fans saying that the relationship is a charity case and such so she is feeling horrible in the relationship. A fight happens between the two and mean stuff is said. They break up and the reader isn’t taking it well. Not because she is upset she isn’t in the relationship cause she is happy to be out but because of the backlash from fans. Seeing this either Kuboyasu (jabjshsk I love him sm) or Saiki (love him too) comfort her and they begin to hang out more till they start to date. The two are now in a healthy and loving relationship and the reader gets to see what that feels like and how that wasn’t what she had with Teruhashi... I really just write this whole fic out lmao. I was going to write it but I’m simply lazy and I wanted to request something from you. As always ignore this or change anything if you don’t like it an take your time please don’t rush or stress yourself out. Ily hun❤️❤️

Hi!! Thank you so much <3! I wanted to say that I adore this request and honestly was ready to drop everything to write it, what an amazing idea you have here! I’m worried I focused a little too much on the Teruhashi part but, man, I’m a sucker for angst so it was a lot of fun. I think I may have gone a little overboard, as I don’t think I’ve written something this long before. I’m sorry if it’s wrong or not quite what you wanted. Thank you so so much for this request, I love it!

Small edit: I forgot to add I picked Saiki for this, as I think I write him a bit better than Kuboyasu!

— Reader is female! Warnings for slight angst, break up, fighting.

WC: 3041

Italics are Saiki “speaking” telepathically.

Teruhashi is the perfect pretty girl, on the outside at least. —————————————————–

“So, what I’m trying to say is… Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” Teruhashi asked on the rooftop one fateful evening after school. She looked as gorgeous as ever, trying to hide her slightly blushing face as she avoided your eyes. The wind was blowing gently through her hair, causing it to sway ever so slightly to one side. The sun was setting behind her, giving her an even more angelic glow to her appearance. You said yes, of course, how could you not? It was magical, especially when it was from the world’s prettiest girl. There was no way you could reject her.

The perfect couple. That’s how it appeared to be. For some time, that’s even how it was.

Teruhashi Kokomi. Your stunning, admirable, and perfect girlfriend. She’s amazing. A few months ago when she asked you to be her girlfriend you were exhilarated. The thought of dating what many considered to be the perfect girl was a chance you knew you just couldn’t pass up. All the time spent with her felt like cloud nine, she made sure you were happy no matter what, and of course, you tried to do the same for her. Her reputation truly held up, even in private.

Over those months, it amazed you what a wonderful girlfriend she was, having seemingly endless affection and love for you. It felt like she was more in tune with your emotions than you’d ever been. She was always ready to listen to your problems, whether you just wanted to vent or needed solutions. She was such a giver in the relationship that you even felt a little bad about it.

She knew that, but she’d never tell you. Not yet, anyway.

So many precious memories flashed through your mind as you thought about her. From getting ice cream on hot summer days to study dates amid a cold, snowy winter (where there wasn’t as much studying as there was cuddling). All the late nights you had spent with her, talking about everything and yet nothing. Video calls at the bright and early hours of the mornings just so she could get your opinion on what she should wear for the day. Every little thing you did together seemed as perfect as Teruhashi herself.

So where had it all gone wrong?

The relationship seemed like it was going great. What happened? What had you done wrong? Recently, Teruhashi had been acting anything but herself. She’s been aggressive, rude, and not interested in anything to do with your relationship at all. She’d avoid you, ignore your calls and texts. When she did see you, she’d throw insult after insult your way, blaming you for problems that were far from in your control, ones that her in her life, not yours. But that wasn’t even the half of it.

What made it even worse? That was only in private. In public, whenever she was with you (or without) she put on her little show of being Miss Perfect. You don’t know how you didn’t see through it before, looking back it was so obvious how fake it was. While in public you were sometimes able to convince yourself she still loved you, clinging onto a desperate hope that things weren’t nearly as bad as reality would tell you. Maybe she was just having a rough time? Her life must be hard, with the constant stalking and fans harassing her along with the need to keep everything in her life completely in order. She must just be tired of it and need somewhere to vent her anger. You didn’t mind being that person, but just not like this. You couldn’t always expect her to be perfect, and you hadn’t. You did your best to make it clear to her from the start that you didn’t need her to be perfect all the time and that you’d be there no matter what. If she wanted to relax in private with you, she was more than welcome to. She never did.

You had it rough, too. Her fan club was constantly harassing you as well. They called you names worse than she did, and had gone to extreme lengths just to get you to break up with her. They stole your things, drew on your desk, and were all-around horrible towards you. They claimed the only reason Teruhashi was dating someone like you was that she pities you, Teruhashi could do so much better. Deep down, you knew that may be the case, but she still asked you out for a reason, right? You never once complained about it, nor told Teruhashi. It would be okay in the end, and being with her was worth it.

Looking back, the red flags were there from the start. It would’ve been better if you caved to the fan club’s wishes from the beginning.

Your arguments seemed to only get worse with time. Insults being thrown your way more than once a day. During a particularly bad argument, she expressed how she felt she was the only one keeping the relationship alive, the only one that truly cared. For the first time, you fought back.

“How could you say such a thing! I do my best for you, I’m sorry we can’t all be Miss Perfect! I try so hard and yet it’s never good enough, is it?” You yelled in frustration, your voice was a lot louder and far more powerful than you intended. Teruhashi was visibly taken aback, despite her constant berating, you had never once raised your voice at her. She paused for a moment, clearly to think. You could easily tell just what she was thinking about.

You had no idea she’d been keeping track of everything you told her. Well, you did, but you never imagined your insecurities would be used against you in the way Teruhashi has been. Screaming them, bringing them up to your face, and forcing you to face them without warning. Using them to insult you, making them worse, and letting them dig deeper into the back of your mind.

Her face contorted in anger, even angrier than before. Listing things “wrong” with you as if her life depended on it, Teruhashi began her angry ranting. She wanted to get it across to you that she’s perfect and you’re far from that. She listed everything you’d ever done that irked her, every annoying thing you’ve said, and every problem you’ve ever told her about. She mocked emotions you’d told her in confidence and confessed that she always found them dramatic and ridiculous. She expressed how embarrassing it was to be seen in public with you, how she should only be seen with people on the same level as herself. If that wasn’t enough, she dealt one last finishing blow.

“I never loved you anyway.”

She turned and she left, slamming the door to your house shut behind her.

Your mind went blank and you barely noticed your knees hitting the floor as you collapsed to the ground. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt the tears soaking into your shirt. You couldn’t see nor hear, everything around you felt numb and dark. Did she really mean all of that? There was no way you were that bad of a girlfriend to her.

Why did you still not want to break up?

Days passed and you still hadn’t left your bedroom, let alone your house. Your phone was blown up with texts from your friends, asking if you were sick. You learned from glancing at a few of the messages that Teruhashi had told them that. Reading her name hurt, it made you feel ill as you remembered what had happened a mere few days ago.

Your phone dinged once again. You reached out and grabbed it with a weak grasp, not having the energy to do more than the bare minimum. The name on your screen made a wave of nausea come over you, the content of the message not helping either.

From: Kokomi♡

I’m coming over.

You really needed to change that contact name. That wasn’t what was important, though. Why was she coming here? What else could she possibly need from you, and what on earth else could you possibly offer? You didn’t have much time to think about it, you needed to appear at least somewhat put together by the time she got here.

Your hair was just finished drying as you pulled on clean clothes. You made sure the entrance and living room areas of your house were clean, along with the kitchen. The knock at the door sounded so familiar, Teruhashi always knocked the same way. It sent chills down your spine. Pulling on the best neutral face you could muster and forcing your legs to move, you opened the door.

She looked different. There was no glow to her anymore. She’d never looked less like an angel in your eyes. Even compared to when she’d been yelling at you. It was jarring, almost like she’s a total stranger. It’ll make talking to her easier, you mused.

You wordlessly invited her in, stepping aside as she avoided eye contact and made her way to sit in the living room. Even once you were sat in front of her, she still wouldn’t look at you. You couldn’t tell if that was because she felt shame or disgust. You just hoped it wasn’t the latter.

“What do you need?” You started the conversation, keeping your voice as steady as you could muster. You were quite impressed with how well you were doing.

“We need to break up.” She stated, still not looking up. You rolled your eyes.

“As if I’d stay with you after that.” You spit out, trying to keep your words from sounding too venomous. A moment of silence, you could feel your heartbeat quicken in your chest. The nerves were starting to get to you and one of you needed to say something before the panic could set in. Luckily, Teruhashi did.

“They were right, you know - the fan club?” She said quietly.

“What?” You were surprised, she knew about that?

“It was like a charity case. I only dated you to get them off my back. Didn’t work though. Shame.” Her voice was calm, way too calm to be saying something so harsh. She was fine just ending your relationship like that, no matter what you’d been through together.

“Oh... of course.” She really had never loved you. You were just a tool she could use to escape the mindless drones that claimed to support her. So it all had meant nothing. It was just too good to be true.

She stood and wordlessly left, walking out of your life for good. Good riddance.

Your pain was only beginning to set in. You couldn’t care less that she broke up with you, you were miserable dating her anyways. No, the hardest part was you would be truly alone now. You knew once word got out that she broke up with you the whole school would blame you. There’s no way their perfect pretty princess could do wrong. It hurt to think about it, you’d probably lose your friends over this. There was one person, though, just maybe one person you could talk to.

Saiki Kusuo. An average looking boy, he didn’t stand out much. You had been friends with him months ago before you dated Teruhashi but she forced you to stop talking to him when you started dating. You never understood why, but she eventually told you that it’s because she used to like him before she got with you and she found it awkward for you to talk to him. You understood. The guilt ate you alive, but you complied. From that day on, you’d never again spoken a word to him.

You could tell just by looking at him he wasn’t like everyone else. He didn’t fawn all over Teruhashi when she entered a room and maybe that’s what drew you to him right now. He’d be the perfect friend, someone that wasn’t obsessed with her. You just hoped he’d forgive you.

“Hey, Saiki?” You asked, shyly walking up to him. He glanced up at you, an uninterested expression plastered on his face. He wasn’t visibly upset by you, but that only made you more nervous. You have no idea what he’s thinking. Realizing he wasn’t going to reply, you continued talking.

“I was just wondering if you’d be willing to have lunch with me. I-I know we haven’t spoken in a while but there are some things I’d like to clear up.”

Saiki knew exactly why you stopped talking to him. He wasn’t going to blame you for that, either. It wasn’t your fault. Sure, he was a little upset about it, you were someone whose presence he actually could tolerate. You were nice to talk to, mainly because you knew when was a good time and when to stop. Traits Saiki greatly admired and appreciated in a person. He might have even liked you a little.

He wasn’t about to let you go. Not as easy as the first time. “Sure.”

His response was curt and blunt, but you couldn’t help the small smile that graced your features. It was your first genuine smile in months. Maybe the whole world wouldn’t be completely against you.

“Thank you.” You stated simply, turning to sit back in your seat. It seemed like such a meaningless thanks, but Saiki knew there was more behind it than that.

Lunch came quickly enough and before you knew it you were eating under a tree with Saiki. You explained everything that happened over the last couple of months, how awfully you’d been treated behind the scenes. You apologized more than necessary for abandoning Saiki, trying to convey that you didn’t want to, but your ex-girlfriend had somewhat forced you to.

Saiki was forgiving, and far more understanding than he needed to be about the situation you were in along with the one you found yourself in now. Deep down, he was happy to have you back. Even if you weren’t super close before, he wanted to help you feel better and get over the torturous relationship you had just left.

So Saiki was there for you. The little lunch meets becoming a daily occurrence and he did his best to keep the Teruhashi fan club away from you. Talking to Saiki felt different, it was like he was genuinely listening and cared about what you told him. He was eager to help and aided as much as he could in your recovery.

Weeks passed as the routine kept up. On the weekends you’d meet for dessert and studying. Everything you did with Saiki felt right, it felt safe and healthy. You hadn’t realized how suffocating your old relationship was - even during the good days.

It wasn’t until Saiki asked you out and you said yes that you truly experienced what being loved felt like. It was late, well after the sun went down. Saiki had snuck into your house, claiming that his parents were being annoying but you knew that was a cover for the fact he missed you. There was no way they were awake these early hours of the morning. He saw your tired face under the dim light that peaked in from your window, as you woke up from his sudden appearance in your bedroom. Saiki felt a small rush. He needed to tell you. Now.

“Y/N” He spoke.

“Saiki?” The confusion was evident in your voice, “You spoke?” You were clearly tired after being disrupted from your sleep. Never having heard him speak before wasn’t helping with your state.

“Yeah.” He whispered, reaching a hand out to brush the hair out of your eyes, letting it linger on your cheek. It was a little more than platonic, just like the look in his eyes.

“I really like you, Y/N.” He whispered once again, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

But you did. Your eyes shot open, blinking a little in surprise. There was no way he just said that, you must be dreaming. There was no way this pink-haired boy that made you feel more than anyone else ever had was standing in your bedroom, at four o’clock in the morning saying he likes you.

You sat up, “You really mean that?” It came out without you intending it to. It probably sounded rude, but you were far beyond the point of being awake enough to care.

“Yeah.” He said, a small chuckle coming out, “I do.”

You didn’t say anything, all you did was slide back on your bed, making room for Saiki and open your arms. He took the hint and made himself comfortable next to you. He let out a small sigh, doubting he’d be able to sleep like this despite his relaxation. He wanted to protect you for as long as he could. He stared at you, probably a little more than he should. Saiki couldn’t help it, his eyes wouldn’t leave your form. You looked like you belonged in his arms, or so he thought. He was having a hard time processing his happiness at your figure in his arms. It had always been you, he was well aware of that now.

“You still awake?” he asked, going back to his telepathic communication. You mumbled a small yes, prompting him to continue talking. “Thank you,” he started, “for asking me to sit with you at lunch that one day. For coming back to me.”

You let out a tired giggle, “You missed me.”

“I did.” He felt you tense when you said that as if you were shocked to hear it. That didn’t surprise him, he had his doubts you were told you were cared about enough, especially in your last relationship.

Looking down at you once again, he realized you’d fallen asleep. A smile grew on his lips as he made a silent promise to show you what real love feels like. He’d cherish you to the moon and back. It’s what you deserve and he was going to give it to you.

#the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki k #saiki kusuo #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki #teruhashi #kokomi teruhashi #kusuo saiki #kusuo saiki x reader #my writing

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blackkwidowed · 4 years

Note

Natasha has been fantasizing about you for a while, One day she finds out that avenger's fans write NSFW fanfics about them and finds one about her and you, she gets turned on and things get heated when you find her touching herselfe while reading a fanfic where you're taking her with a strapon.

you know what? this reminds me of the super old fanfiction concepts about bands and stuff and it made me feel all warm and fuzzy so for the sake of that, lets give you a little something.

warnings: 18+. sexual thoughts, masturbation, fumbly nat, implied smut. sub nat, as always.

•

Natasha can't admit to herself that the second she stumbled across one - about Steve and Bucky, to her surprise - she went out of her way to look for the rest. Ones about herself, purely out of curiousity, and definitely through an incognito tab because Tony finding her web history is the last thing she needs.

She comes across a variety of writing that make her laugh and want to cry, even one about her romantically involved with Clint that makes her quit for a full hour to try and forget about it. She's about to give up, refusing to go back to it, until she sees the next one.

Her mind races immediately, the thought alone of being with you making her nervous and excited at the same time. She tentatively reads, and finds herself unable to stop. Especially though, when a fanfiction version of you and her are going at it in the backseat of a car on a mission.

You're kneeling between her legs, fingers playing at her inner thighs while you kiss her hard, and it's just enough for Natasha's breath to hitch, for warmth to begin to settle in her stomach.

Nat pauses, slamming her phone face down on the bed. "No. No more."

She lays back against the pillow, running a hand across her forehead and sighing.

Natasha thinks about you, more importantly though you and her. You with her. She'd be lying to herself if she said she hadn't been curious about it before, and she'd be an absolute fool to convince herself that she's not attracted to you.

It scares her a little, the way her brain tries to convince her that it's completely okay to be reading about you and her in such a circumstance. It scares her even more when she opens her phone again, eyes falling to the sentence at the bottom of the screen.

Natasha clenches her thighs together, releasing a shaky breath at the image in her head. You, hovering above her, toy bumping over her clit just right, exactly how she likes it because you read her body better than anyone ever has.

That alone is enough for her slip a hand into her jeans. A slip across the outside of her panties is fair right? It's not like she's going to make herself come to the thought of you, no. She knows that it's wrong. She knows, though in the back of her mind she knows that still won't stop her.

Fuck, she's wet. She doesn't know how already but she is, she can feel it without even dipping underneath her underwear.

The more she reads, the more she feels.

Slipping a hand under her panties, she sighs as she brushes her clit. Christ, she wishes it was your hands. Reading it in detail made it more real, visioning it in her mind made her unable to think of anything except you, your hands on her, your mouth on her.

Natasha groans, pulling her hand from her jeans to rid herself of them instead, pulling her panties off afterwards and laying back comfortably on the bed.

She spreads her thighs, running her fingertips over her clit.

Down.

Fuck, she bets you'd feel better inside her. It's good, her fingers are good, but they're not enough. They're not yours.

She curls two fingers, right into place, right where she needs your fingers to be hitting over and over.

Natasha starts mumbling to herself, after reading far too much. Her phone lands somewhere on the bed she doesn't care to look. Her free hand knots in her own hair and her eyes shut tight. There's too much pleasure, too much good to feel guilty about it right now.

"Yes. Right there, fuck," she mutters. Picturing you, mumbling your name right after, it's enough to get her close. That is, until there's a knock at her door.

"Nat? Can I come in for a sec?"

Fuck. Shit. It's you, Natasha knows that voice anywhere. Christ, how the fuck is she going to explain this without looking like a complete idiot.

Even if there was time to shove her pants back on, the heavy breathing would give it away.

Worse though, is that Natasha didn't think this would happen at all, so she didn't even lock the door behind her.

Natasha panics, whimpering quietly at the lack of touch as she attempts to pull her jeans on. "Just a second!"

Too late.

"Woah-woah, shit!" Natasha sees you step backwards, a hand covering your eyes without a second thought. "Sorry, Nat. You didn't answer me at first, I was checking if you were here but Jesus! I'd rather you just told me to fuck off next time."

Nat blushes furiously, doing the button of her jeans up.

"Is there a point in that?" You smirk at her. "It's not like it wasn't obvious. I could hear you whimpering outside the door."

Dammit, now she's really caught.

"Didn't take you to be loud in bed, Natty."

Natasha groans, throwing a pillow from her bed at you with a reasonable amount of force. "I'm not loud. And don't call me that."

She watches your gaze move to her phone.

"Y/N, no." Nat scrambles to the bed to grab it, but you're nearer and unfortunately for Nat, you're quicker than her. "Y/N, I swear!"

Turning the phone in your hand, you gaze between Natasha and the phone that's lit up like Christmas. It only takes a quick glance to work it out.

Natasha grabs it from your hand, getting rid of the tab and throwing it on the chair across the room.

"If only you'd locked your phone, принцесса." You tut in her direction and watch as Natasha panics.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry it's not what it looks like. I was just curious and it'd been a long time since I-"

"Hey." You drop the smirk, taking a tentative step toward her. Your hands raise, not quite resting on her hips but ready to. "May I?"

Natasha thinks for a moment, relaxes a little under your gaze. She nods.

Your hands are burning hot on her hips, thumbs working circles over her jeans. "Just calm down."

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't. It's okay, really. I don't want you to be embarrassed." You mutter softly. "Actually, I'm quite pleased."

She looks at you in question, eyebrow raised. "What do you mean."

"Would you believe me if I told you I'd stumbled across this once or twice too?"

Natasha's mouth bobs open and closed, unable to form a sentence.

"Okay, better question." You move one hand to the side of her neck, running your thumb from one side to another. Wouldn't take much to grab a little tighter. "Would you believe me if I said I wanted you too? Or if I said how often I've thought about you?"

Natasha remains silent.

You brush her jaw with your fingertips, tracing over to her bottom lip with your thumb.

"C'mon, детка. Talk to me."

"I..."

You take a chance, moving your thumb a little to see what she'll do. To your pleasant surprise, something snaps in her, like a switch, she changes completely. Back to the snarky, badass assassin you've come to know instead of a nervous wreck, though you adore that side of her too.

Natasha meets your eyes and refuses to drop your gaze. She's daring you to make a move, she's daring you to go further. She wants to know just how serious you are about this.

Your thumb parts her lips, her jaw, resting against her tongue as her she wraps her lips around it. You smirk at her. "That's it. Wasn't so hard, was it?"

Natasha kisses you first, your hand going back to her hips as hers cup the back of your head, pulling you down to her level. Her tongue traces your lips and Christ, she's eager, you both are.

Before you can even break the first kiss she's pulling at your shirt as she whimpers. "Hurry up."

You chuckle. "Thought you weren't sure."

"Oh, I'm sure. You going to fuck me or not?"

"Depends. Are you going to ask me nicely, pretty girl? Or do I have to force you to use some manners?"

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff drabble #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu

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horrorslashergirl · 3 years

Text

A Hacker Story. When the package burns to ashes

Authors Note: Another story, another glimpse of who the psychopathic madman known as the Hacker, was.

Warning: Contains content that may trigger some people; scenes with bullying, certain sensitive topics of abuse and abandon, and disturbing themes because it's the Hacker.

It was another Friday night, and he wasn't invited to this so called party that his girlfriend attended, or was it ex-girlfriend? Xander could tell, because she simply said she needed a break, a pause, something so she could find herself.

He was confused and tried to understand what she meant, he gave her space, not wanting to pressure her. He was fine with waiting for her. After all, they made plans, after highschool, they would both go to college, make a carrer and have a future together.

He was the type to make long-term plans. Call him a perfectionist, but that's how he liked for things to be with certain topics in his life. After his mother left him, his sister and father, he wanted to make sure things will go all smoothly, so he took precautious measures.

So, here he was, entering her house, where the party took place, his grey eyes scanning the crowd for her, seeing all kinds of people, getting drunk and doing drugs, some moving upstairs and you didn't had to be a genius to know what they would do... Hopefully not get pregnant before they could finish highschool.

Walking into the kitchen, Xander saw his 'girlfriend' outside on the back porch, his grey eyes meet her blue ones, only the glass door between them and he felt his gut twist, not because he was anxious of talking to her, but because the football captain of the school was with her, flashing him one of these arrogant raised eyebrow expressions, his bulky arms crossed over his chest, putting on an Alpha male pose to assert his dominance silently.

"Blueberry..." Dalia whispered as she slide the glass door open, wrapping her arms around Xanders neck, making him feel all warm inside, basking into her scent and feeling his anxiety vanish, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I missed you." she murmured into his neck, his own arms wrapped around her and he felt like they were the only people into the room.

Pulling away, he grinned, his pearly whites adored by neon blue braces, as he looked into her sky blues, getting lost into them.

"I got you something." Xander said, pulling out a small tablet; it was a digital photo album with all their pictures together from the moment they meet, their memories and dates, screenshot of their cute messages together.

Of course all beautiful things have to come to an end as he was tugged outside on the back porch by the football captain known as Brian, making the slimmer male drop the digital tablet, Brian stepping on it, a crack could be heard, most likely broke it.

"Hey! What-" Xander argued, a frown on his face as he gazed at Brian who rolled his eyes.

"You weren't invited and that was with a reason. I got to make sure no freaks are coming to this party." he simply said, making Xander purse his lips, scoffing and giving a dry chuckle.

"Sure.... What would we do without the star of our school.. Mr. Perfect posting each day pictures all shirtless, with your football team and your red Porsche driving to school... And all the 4,000 followers on Instagram... Which half of them are fake by the way." Xander snapped, grey eyes narrowing more, stepping in front of the muscular tall male.

"But you know what? Us... Nerds.... We are not impressed." he spat, his eyes looking on Dalias who, like everyone was watching the whole scene.

"And what are you trying to say?" Brian asked with a bored look on his face.

"I am going to college. Me and Dalia. Together. To make a carrer.... Something that you will never do. You know what happens to popular guys like you?" The nerdy grey eyes male said, getting more into Brians face, making the sturdy guy shrug.

"They end up cleaning the toilets for people like me." Xander hissed, his patience wearing thin, not standing this asshole anymore, all that arrogance because he was tall, muscular and had a big status, with girls crowding around him, like he was the big shit.

Brian rolled his eyes and turned his back to Xander, not even giving him any thoughts, like he was invisible.

"Fucker." Xander muttered, under his breath, making Brian stop and chuckle, turning back to look him straight in his grey eyes.

"And what makes you think, you.... Of all people... Will realize something big, metal-mouth?" The jock scoffed, stalking over to Xander, putting one muscular arm over the nerds shoulder.

"If I recall.... Your mommy isn't the only one that left you." Brian commented with a smirk, pointing at Dalia.

Grey eyes widened, feeling suddenly small and self concious, looking at Dalia who didn't said anything, only looking away from him, trying to hide behind one of her friends.

"I guess, you don't have the balls, huh?" Brian added, gropping Xanders crotch mockingly, making the black haired male squeak and pull away, seeing everyone looking at him, snickering and laughing.

Swallowing hard like metal nails were piercing his throat, Xander run away from the crowd, from the house, taking his bike and peddaling away form the scene, from the party. Anywhere not there to be, feeling like he was all alone.

His mother left. His girlfriend left.

After many years....

Oh yes, he recalled these memories, and now he could only laugh at what happened back then in highschool. Ignorant idiots who think their world is at their feet only because they were lucky enough to be born into the 'perfect' family.

The Hacker researched more so out of pure boredom and curiousity what his former highschool classmates realized in life.

Most of them, had mediocre jobs that could hardly pay for a rent in New York City.

Brian? Looks like Mommy and Daddy went both broke, their company falling down to ashes. The price of having a loud mouth and being a show-off. He was no longer as sturdy as he used to be. Poor Brian thought that muscels and a good look could get him anywhere... The only problem is aging and the competition into a higher league of football was too much for Mr. Perfect.

Dalia? Finished highschool, got married to a guy who turned out to be an abusive asshole who kicked her out on the streets after find a better younger deal. She used to be so cute and innocent, and now she was selling herself on the streets of New York, because lets face it; as you age, you are not longer as desirable as you used to be back in the younger days. Guys want fresh meat.

They all thought they were invincible without a stable base. They all depended on someone; their mommy and daddy, their partner who was just using them etc.

The Hacker on the other hand? He builded his own empire all alone, not depending once on someone. He was his own boss, his own rules that he lived by.

He remembered back in highschool during a biology class, about the animal hierarchy.

They were two types; the solitary ones and the pack ones.

The pack ones were strong, only in big numbers, because alone, despite being hunter, they could turn to prey so easily. Lions, buffalos, wolvs..... Yes, they are strong ones, but without a pride or pack... They are completly vulnerable.

Then, the solitary ones; Tiger, Leopard, Crocodile, Jaguar, Polar Bears .... They hunt alone, all by themselvs and they excel into that department with impecable moves. They don't depend on anyone but their own skills and powers.

The Hacker was a solitary one and he loved to be like that. He didn't had to worry about anyone, to fill his mind with useless stuff about what the other might care when that someone can always turn their claws on him.

But he was a snake... Sneaky, cunning and venomous and if someone dared to mess with the Black Mamba, then this sleek serpent will sink his fangs into said person and make them wish they were never born.

"Oh how the hierarchy has turned upside down." he whispered to himself with a sadistic smirk, twirling the bowie knife between gloved fingers, eyes from behind the mask watching the countdown for the next Red Room Event.

'Only 2 Days 18 Hours and 35 Minutes Left'

"H-Help... W-Whose there?" a helpless voice spoke from behind the Hacker, looking over his shoulder to see the shiny metal chest, the broken voice resounding from inside.

"Soon.... Very soon." he rasped out, voice husky and dripping with macabre intentions.

The games have only just began.

#The Hacker #Erron #Cyber killer #Original character #Slasher OC #Horror #Disturbing #Creepy #Unnerving #Serial killer #Madman

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gallowswhump · 2 years

Text

Ink in Every Color

Hala makes the choice that places the rest of his life in motion.

Content Warning: Death Centric Character, Sick Whump, Choosing Death, Implied Slavery (depending on how you veiw it)

Day in and day out it was the same. Catalog the lost souls whose story the Raven Queen had claimed. Mark down deaths and histories as they came in and put them in proper places. Collect the items that are permeated with stolen memories either from a lost soul or brought back by one of the Queen’s followers. Hala felt exhausted, his days had become stagnant filled with nothing but work. He was good at his job, that was the important part; his soul being a chronologer for the Raven Queen was his purpose. As the days went on though a gray world fading into gray days fading into a gray life Hala felt a longing for something more. A feeling that logically he should know should be discarded. Long ago as his days filled with work and the wonder over new stories and items were lost as they started to blend and fade into one another it was starting to become the only emotion he could take to feeling on a regular basis. Pride no longer filled him for his constant and perfect work he performed for his goddess. The wonder and appreciation of the castle and the history in it dwindles as he sees tragic lives continue to repeat themselves.

There was little to do about his longing to break the daily cycle he found himself in though. He could leave and travel the wastes of the shadowfell but that was a dangerous and overall uninteresting idea. He knew what was out there and that was not much. Anything interesting he could come across would be dangerous to his health and death in the shadowfell would likely end him back here. He wasn’t even sure of what the punishment of going against the Raven Queen’s will would be. The more that that idea was thought of the more he wanted to push that line. At least a punishment would be something new, something interesting as his brain autopilots him though his life and work. How long would his life be like this? Shadar-kai wasn't immortal but he knew he was useful to the Raven Queen. She wouldn’t discard him easily, to the point that he was forbidden from ever leaving to serve her on the Material Realm. So he was stuck here.

“Hala!” The Shadar-kai hadn’t realized how much he had gotten mixed into his thoughts and work until he heard the voice call out. He turns and gives a soft smile seeing Calryan, one of the few people he would consider a friend. Calryan was one of the lucky few who served the Raven Queen in the material realm. “How are you doing?” “Just fine,” Hala calmly states, setting the record he was working on to the side. “You have something new to give?” “Yeah, I got some stuff for the chronology. Before that though, when was the last time you took a break?” “It’s been a while.” “Then I have stuff for you first.” “Very well did you have a place for a rest in mind?” “The river I was hoping.” Hala gives a nod and motions for the other to lead the way. “How have things been?” “Good good! Great actually!” Hala glanced over Calryan noting that little had changed of them since he had last seen the warrior. They still wore the patch work clothing with a mix match of bright colors. They had clearly taken to the emotions of the material realm as well. That was hard for some of the chosen of the Raven Queen. Though it was likely what lead to the success that they had experienced in the material realm. “How about you?” Hala paused for a moment, maybe his friend could give him guidance. Calyran wasn’t a great decision maker letting their whims control them but maybe that is what he needed. “May I be honest with you?” “I would expect it from you Hala.” He pursed his lips a little at that causing Calyran to give off a loud laugh. “It’s okay I don’t mean anything by that.” “I suppose I mean open then.” “Of course what’s going on in that head of yours?” “I’m feeling dissatisfied.” Hala expected a joke to come at his expense but he was pleasantly surprised when Calryan actually took to some attention. “What do you mean?” They ask as the two finally make it to the dark waters of the river that ran near the Fortress of Memories. Hala takes in a deep breath as he sits next to the river Calryan quickly joining him and starting to pull items out of his bag of holding. “I’m not sure.” “Well think on it, here I have these,” Calryan hands over a jar and Hala calmly turns it over in his hands. It was filled with some sort of powder. “Dye.” “How I get my hair like this,” They flip their multi-colored hair that looks like colors were put on one another and patched in and old ones lost the fancy of the erratic Shadar-kai and as new ones gained favor. “Thought you would like to try some?” More jars are pulled out, coming to be a rainbow of colors available. “Yes I would,” Hala rarely said no to the excentries of his friend. Maybe that was really what he was missing in his life. “Which ones?” “Pick two for me, I trust you.” Soon enough two jars were chosen, one with a bright deep blue color and then one that was more of a deep emerald. Calryan brushes their fingers through Hala’s hair, parting out a front length of his long black hair. “Your hair's a little dark so it’s gonna tint the black.” Hala gives a nod of understanding. “So you’re feeling dissatisfied.” “Yes.” “Well Hala the only thing you do is work so I’m going to assume you're dissatisfied with that.” “I like what I do.” “I know.” “I’m good at what I do.” Calryan wets the tips of his fingers in the water of the river turning to wet the part they had set aside for the blue color. “Hala all you do is work.” “Yes.” Calryan huffs at the deadpan response, “You know mortals don’t do that.” “We aren’t mortals.” “We’re made of the same stuff Hala. All our souls were once lost mortal ones until the Raven Queen made us into what we are. Sure due to the nature of the Fell we don’t experience things the same. No life and death, no emotions, no color.” Now the powder was applied. “That is all still there all deep down inside of all of us Hala. You remember what I was like? I was always eccentric but going to the material realm? You remember the first time I came back.” “You cried a lot.”

Calryan snorts as they move onto the next part, “I thought I wasn’t going to see any of my friends again.” Hala glances away. “I know you don’t understand what that feels like.” “Death happens.” “It does. I know that. It’s why I try to feel as much as I can in every moment I have.” “What do you feel now?” “Well I feel glad to be with a good friend I haven’t seen in a while and that you trust me so much to share what you’re feeling. Amazed that you would even tell me this! You’re so devoted to your work I couldn’t imagine you would disclose this feeling to anyone. Excited to know when I’m done seeing you and reporting to the Queen that I’ll get to go back home and continue to explore the world with my friends. Scared that this might be the trip that the Queen commands me to stay. Curious as to how these dyes are going to work for you. And I’m saddened that you are stuck here and are no longer satisfied with your work not because you aren’t satisfied with work but because it’s unlikely that outside of defying the Queen you will not find what satisfies you.” Hala looks down thinking letting the motion of Calryan wiping the powders away lead his thoughts. “I am tempted to defy the Queen but I don’t think I would find what I was looking for if I was to traverse the Fell.” “Really?! You defy the Queen?” “I just want something new. My intentions are not rooted in malice or even the want to defy.” “Your hair looks great by the way.” Hala carefully moves his fingers up to his now slightly damp hair and pulls a couple of stands of it out to look at the color. Black hair now had this gleem of color to it when the light hit it just right. “If that’s the case though…” Calryan searches his bag for a moment. “This was supposed to be for the archive but I’ll give it to you to do what you wish with it.” They produce a black amulet in the shape of a wheel obsidian in color outlined in silver, carved with symbols of the planes. “If you give this to me with that intention and I do something with it… break the rules it could come back to you.” “Yeah you’re right. I don’t care though, it’s a choice I want you to be able to make. Maybe what you want is out there somewhere.” “What if it isn’t?” “Oh well at least you tried. You would take control of your own life and get to experience what you can.” “I wouldn’t get very long.” Calryan scruggs, “Without explicit permission no, but it’s not instantaneous you would have years on the material realm to experience it if that’s what you wanted. The Queen would have to send someone like me to deal with you if she wanted you back sooner than the homesickness would take to bring you back.” Hala turns the amulet over in his hands. “I’m not sure.” “Well you have it now. If you decide against; put it in the archive. If you go for it well then I hope I will see you in the material realm one day Hala.” With that Calyran stands stretching their arms over their head. “You should take some time to think on it. I’m gonna find another archivist to give my other items.” Hala nods looking down at the amulet. “Thank you.” “No problem, well I hope to see you again whether it’s on the martial plane or here.” “Same.” Hala nods letting Calryan go.

Hala had placed the Amulet in his pocket. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with it yet. The longer and longer he let it sit there as a new reminding weight in his life. His day to day continued with its ever reminding presence. Nothing really prompted him to pull it out. Maybe he had reached a breaking point for his monotony, maybe his curiosity had gotten the better of him either way he thought of the shining city of Malaca that he had heard so much about in the past reading the incantation that came to the amulet when he did so.

#OC Hala #Death Centric Character #Sick Whump #Choosing Death #Implied Slavery #The shadar-kai aren't slaves but placing the tag just in case #for clerification on the choosing death tag is the Shadar-kai who are not given power by the Raven Queen will get sick on the Material plan #if they aren't native to the plane

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chockfullofsecrets · 3 years

Text

Critical Role: Don’t You Know?

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Clarabelle just giggles, revealing a little gap between her two front teeth. “What?” she asks. “Don’t you know? Caduceus never starts tickle fights, he knows he’s gonna lose!”

“Belle,” Caduceus says loudly, “maybe you should go check on the tea-”

Beau likes to think she has a good sense for potentially incriminating information, and right now it’s pinging off the fucking walls. “No, no, no, tell me more.”

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: fill for this anon prompt! and for a bunch of people who want to see poor Cad get absolutely wrecked, apparently XD

spoilers for C2E92 and C2E96 - and a little side note that i may have forgotten the timing of certain Greater Restorations while planning this fic, so let's just pretend that the clerics had two more of them to cast that day 🤦

---

Beau doesn’t like feeling jealous. It’s not a frequent feeling, around the Nein, since they’re all pretty much the same level of fucked up, but watching Caduceus and his siblings sit in amiable silence as they work through prepping whatever grows around here that passes for dinner is starting to get to her.

Maybe it’s just too soon, after going back home to Kamordah. She’s fine, or she will be - she loves her friends and they love her and her parents don’t and that’s fine, but -

She grits her teeth. All she has to do is sit here in this corner and wait for Caduceus’ mom to finish making tea in the other room, and then she can take it and run and leave this happy little family tableau to their own devices. She’s got a bottle of wine and access to a trickster cleric, it’s not going to be that hard to have a good evening.

She’s still mulling over what kind of pranks she can play in a petrified temple when the littlest Clay - who’s still a good head taller than her, because fucking firbolgs - finishes scraping the peel off the last unidentified vegetable in her stack and drops her knife with a bright little clank as she turns to her brother. There’s no way Caduceus hasn’t noticed that for every one she’s done herself she’s snuck another into his pile, but Beau’s not going to be the one to rat her out. “Okay, I’m done, lemme look at your hair! I bet I can fix it, I have all my dyeing stuff with me.”

Caduceus eyes his own pile and, very slowly, starts pushing it in his older sister’s direction. Beau chokes back a snort.

Said sister’s eyes narrow. “No!”

The little one pouts at both of them. “But Calliope, look at him, he needs help!”

Big sister - Calliope - takes advantage of the little circle the three of them are sitting in to shove both of their shoulders simultaneously. “No. If you two are taking a break, then so am I!”

Caduceus rumbles out a laugh, already starting to undo his braid. “Sure, but you’re explaining why we’re not done to Mom.”

It’s a low move. Beau approves entirely.

Calliope scoffs and tosses her paring knife in his direction handle-first, laughing herself when he yelps and dodges. “Oh, we’ll see who’s doing the explaining.”

She’s smiling, though, as she gets up and stretches. Beau takes one look at her insanely toned arms and has to swallow convulsively to get her saliva flowing again.

As she wanders off, Caduceus shakes the last of his hair loose and flops the whole pink mass over onto his face. “Don’t pull too hard, Clarabelle, it’s pretty fragile right now.”

“I’m not a baby, Caduceus,” Clarabelle snarks, and promptly climbs halfway into his lap to bury her hands in it and start bemoaning the state of his roots.

The quip slips out of Beau’s mouth reflexively. “You know he’s just luring you in so he can tickle you, right?”

It’s kind of their thing, her and Caduceus, whenever one of their group is standing anywhere in his vicinity and his hands are free. The reactions are great - the warning makes Jester bounce excitedly, Fjord and Caleb go all red and sputtery, Yasha look up in quiet anticipation - fuckin’ adorable, by the way - and Nott threaten to kill them all as she darts away.

And if she’s a little too invested in the way Caduceus huffs and throws her a quiet little smile before reeling his victim in, like they’ve got an inside joke that’s just for the two of them - well, that’s just an unexpected benefit of the chaos.

Today, though, two pink heads snap in her direction. Caduceus makes a panicked little sound, barely audible under all the floof, and isn’t that interesting.

Clarabelle just giggles, revealing a little gap between her two front teeth. “What?” she asks. “Don’t you know? Caduceus never starts tickle fights, he knows he’s gonna lose!”

“Belle,” Caduceus says loudly, “maybe you should go check on the tea-”

Beau likes to think she has a good sense for potentially incriminating information, and right now it’s pinging off the fucking walls. “No, no, no, tell me more.”

Clarabelle beams. “Calliope!” she yells. “C’mere, we have to tickle Caduceus!”

Caduceus’ ears shoot up in obvious alarm. He lunges forward and makes a decent attempt at smothering her through all the hair in his way, but Calliope’s already turning around.

Beau shivers - apparently the smug Caduceus look is genetic. “Did I hear that right, Belle? Caduceus has been going out and starting tickle fights?”

Caduceus lets go of his sister and gets halfway up before Clarabelle tackles him with a war cry. They’re wrestling on the ground, lanky limbs everywhere and absolutely terrible form, by the time Calliope lopes over.

She reaches in with one hand and hauls her seven-foot-tall brother up into a sitting position by the collar of his shirt - fuck, that’s hot. Beau firmly suppresses the urge to fidget as Calliope tugs one of Caduceus’ arms up over his head and yanks his sleeve down to his elbow. “Well, Caduceus? Got anything to say for yourself?”

Caduceus actually whines. It takes serious effort not to gape in shock. “I didn’t do anyth-ING-NO-”

His protests dissolve into near-silent squeaks as Calliope starts to tickle his - hands? Beau watches closely as she drags her fingertips up his forearm, fluttering them lightly in the crease of his elbow, and commits the technique to memory.

Caduceus’ helpless grin is wider than she’s ever seen it. He braces his feet on the floor and tries to twist free, elbows akimbo. “Calliope! Stohop it, I’m - heh - I’m not-”

She snorts. “Not a chance, we’ve got - how many years has it been again?”

“Two hundred!” Belle chirps, and dives in to worry at the backs of Caduceus’ ears with blunt fingernails. The trembling, stuttery sounds he’s making jump an octave as he frantically shakes his head from side to side.

“Ten,” he snickers. “Belle - heeeh, hehe - cut it out, I’m - mmm! - I’m serious, come ohohon-”

Clarabelle turns back to Beau. “See?”

Oh, Beau sees. She’s gonna get so much mileage out of this.

Caduceus looks over at her too, eyebrows furrowing, but Calliope’s already talking over the both of them. “Well, that’s a lot of years to catch up on, I’d better pull out the big guns.”

Caduceus’ eyes widen. Beau decides to help the panic along and mouths big guns? in his direction, slipping her notebook out and opening it to a fresh page.

Caduceus yelps and throws himself forward with alacrity she’s never seen from him, ripping his arm from Calliope’s grip and nearly scrambling past Clarabelle before his big sister takes a step forward and scoops him up under the arms. “Nice try,” she tells him. “Might have worked, if you weren’t so scrawny.”

She drops him on top of Clarabelle. “Hey!”

“Sorry, Belle, you gotta stay out of the way!”

“No, I’m helping!” she insists, and dutifully wrestles her way on top of Caduceus to start tickling his ears again.

Caduceus wheezes and curls into a ball, trying fruitlessly to shove her away. “Belle - Belle!-”

“Let’s see, let’s see…” Calliope muses, crouching down and plucking a booted foot from the pile of limbs. “Legs?”

She grabs Caduceus’ calf and squeezes it like a piece of dead meat. He squeals. “Yep, still ticklish.”

Caduceus kicks her in the knee with his other leg and she staggers back for a moment before surging forward to grab at his hips. “Ow! Oh, now you’re in for it.”

He can’t do anything but flail as she wrestles him onto his back and urges Clarabelle to sit on his belly to keep him pinned. “Nonono! M’sorry - eheheeeeh, Belle, stoppit! - I’m sohohorry! Don’t!”

There’s a pause. Beau leans forward, half excited and half trying to sense genuine distress. She’s never heard Caduceus plead like this - not her fault, the fucker has apparently been hiding his ticklish spots for months, but it’s not like she wouldn’t be willing to jump in and save him.

And maybe she wants to see what Calliope’s arms can do up close. Maybe.

Calliope adjusts her grip on him and smirks. “Heh. No, I think I’m gonna. Belle, you got him?”

“Yep!” she says cheerfully, bare feet planted on each side of his ribcage. Caduceus has managed to press one big palm over her face, keeping her at arm’s length and away from his ears, but she just wriggles her bare toes under him and into the backs of his ribs. “Tickle, tickle, Caduceus!”

Caduceus guffaws and squirms like his life depends on it, but there’s nowhere to go. “Noooo - hahaaaheeh - stop, stop, not my ribs-”

He keeps begging as Calliope levers a hand under his back and starts rooting around for something with a focused expression. She finds it, too - Caduceus screams and arches his back nearly in half as he abandons Clarabelle and grabs desperately for her hands instead. “Pleeeheease! HHAHAH - nonnono - eheaahaaa!”

Beau can’t even see what she’s tickling, but there’s enough potential here to topple a regime. “Fuck,” she whispers. Does this make her the most powerful tickler in the Nein now? Is this what ascending feels like?

She’s surprised that the rest of the Nein haven’t come running yet, with all the noise he’s making. But then again, she and Cad and Caleb are the best at paying attention to their surroundings and Caleb definitely isn’t in a hurry to run towards hysterical laughter.

She doesn’t mean to make any sound herself, but amidst all his struggling Cad’s ears twitch in her direction. “Beau,” he pleads. Shrieks again. “Help mmm-ahahahAA-”

“Hm, who’s that?” Calliope stops tickling, judging from Caduceus’ wheezed relief, and turns to look in her direction. Beau swears that her hair flutter in a nonexistent breeze. “Right, you, the non-important one.”

Beau nearly bites her tongue in despair - why does she have to be such a disaster around every hot woman she meets? “Yep, that’s me.”

Calliope looks at her for a moment, considering. “You look like a fighter. What are you doing all the way over there - you’re not scared of him, are you?”

It’s never been less tempting to confess the time she accidentally hit Cad in the face with some of her weeks-old pocket bacon and he tickled her until she cried. She clears her throat. “Uh, no. No. It looks like you’re doing a pretty good job already, I mean, he’s really-”

Calliope yanks her arm free and uses it to beckon her over. “Eh, come here - Belle, watch it, I’m going to flip him.”

Caduceus squawks in renewed panic as one of his sisters tumbles off him and the other wraps her arms around him and twists him facedown like a wrestling move from the back-alley brawls Beau used to sneak into as a teenager - and, once again, hot.

She swallows again and strolls over as casually as she can while Calliope pins him across the shoulders with her forearm. “Riiight - here.”

She doesn’t even touch, just points to the backs of Caduceus’ thighs, but he obviously knows where she’s leading. “Beau, no,” he yelps.

He tries to pull his legs up beneath him. Beau automatically grabs him just under the knees and drags him out flat. “Hey, hey, where do you think you’re going?”

Calliope raises an approving eyebrow. Beau tries not to blush. “It’s his worst spot - he’s ticklish there if you so much as look at him wrong.”

“We chased him up a tree once,” Clarabelle pipes up. She’s tap-tap-tapping blunt fingernails across Caduceus’ back, sending him shivering. “He stayed up there all night until Dad went to get him.”

“Beau, don’t,” Cad rasps. She’s heard him sound perkier seconds after coming back from the dead. He’s laughing still, quietly, and it sounds somewhere between the lava of the volcano forge they stayed in once and Frumpkin’s rusty purrs.

“Not so fun when you’re the one doing the begging, huh,” Beau tells him. She flicks him, once, in the back of the leg and looks incredulously at his siblings. “So you’re telling me his absolute worst spot… is his fucking butt?”

Calliope shrugs. “He’s so weird, isn’t he?”

All three of them laugh at that, even Caduceus, so Beau figures it’s all right. “Yeah, we’ve noticed. We’re all weird though, it’s kind of our thing.”

“Sure,” Calliope says. “He’s weird and ticklish, though, so if I wanna pin him down and get all his worst spots then he’s just gonna have to deal with it-”

Caduceus peels his face off the ground and gasps out a few strangled syllables that reverberate in the warm air.

Both of his sisters shriek as their eyes fill with black ichor. “Caduceus!” Calliope yells, letting go of him and grabbing for her face with one hand and her holy symbol with the other. “What did you do?”

Caduceus props himself up on his elbows, panting. “Oh, it’s just something I picked up,” he tells her smugly. “Don’t worry, it’ll wear off.”

“After how long,” Calliope growls.

Clarabelle giggles, still draped over Caduceus’ back. “Oh, this feels weird!”

He laughs and starts to crawl out from under them, but Beau’s not done with him yet. Mercifully un-blinded, she snags him around the knees again. “Wow, usually you’re the one telling us not to be mean to people.”

Caduceus rolls onto his side and looks sharply back at her, sighing in relief when she holds her hands up in surrender. “Well, I know these people.” He shoves gently at Clarabelle, wriggles a finger into her side when she doesn’t move. She squeaks. “They deserve it.”

He grins down at her, unrepentant and bratty, and Beau can’t help but grin back.

“So are your thighs really that bad?” she asks. “Or-” she jerks her chin over at Calliope, who’s started praying. “-did you just decide to be a jerk all of a sudden? Also, how the fuck did we not know how ticklish you are? You wreck us all the time!”

Caduceus shrugs. “S’easy to get in your heads,” he says. Beau bristles a little at that, but he’s not wrong - Caduceus has this way of looking at them like he’s going to take them apart one way or another, and the tickling is probably the safer route. Doesn’t hurt that they can always trust him to set them right after, either.

“And they’ll get me eventually, might as well have some fun with it.” He fixes Beau with a stern look. “Now you, on the other hand-”

She interrupts him. “Hey Cad, how long’s that spell supposed to last?”

He blinks. “A minute, why?”

Beau points wordlessly over his shoulder at a clear-eyed Calliope. “Uh.”

Caduceus twists around. “Oh, dear.”

That’s all he has time for before Calliope grabs his shoulders and twists him facefirst back into the ground. “You know,” she tells him, “I was going to go easy on you. Was. You’re lucky I’m not calling Colton in here.”

“That’s ‘cause Colton’s a jerk,” Caduceus says, muffled and remarkably calm.

“So are you, apparently,” Calliope retorts. She forms a vibrating claw with one hand and digs it into his spine, and Caduceus shrieks. “You can’t just blind people!”

“I’m telling Mom and Dad!” Clarabelle agrees, wiping one last black tear from her eye and lunging back in to knead mercilessly at the backs of Caduceus’ ribs.

Caduceus shrieks again, kicking helplessly, and tumbles straight back into hysterical laughter. “Come - hahaAAA - come on!”

Beau’s fairly sure that he’s going to hurt himself if she jumps in, but Calliope looks breathlessly over at her and grins with a bloodthirsty look that Beau recognizes all too well. She usually saves it for enemies, though, or Caleb if he’s being particularly insufferable. “Is that what he does to you guys too? Go on, get some revenge!”

And well, put like that…

It takes a bit of effort to pin one of Caduceus’ flailing legs, especially when he catches wind of what she’s doing and starts kicking even more frantically. “Hold fucking still,” she yells.

Caduceus is losing it, less put together than she’s ever heard him. “I cahahan’t!”

Beau jams the ball of her thumb into the nerve cluster just above his knee until his leg goes dead. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“What was that?” Clarabelle says, sounding delighted. “Can I learn how to do that, Callie?”

Beau ignores her, focusing in on her prey. “Let’s see, how many apologies am I looking for?” She’s pretty sure she deserves every single time that Caduceus has tickled her to pieces, but the opportunity to tease Caduceus the way he does with them is too good to pass up. “I’ve lost count at this point, guess we’ll just start the ball rolling and see what happens.”

She squeezes mercilessly at the back of his thigh, making sure he can feel it through his homespun trousers, and he laughs a bit louder and squirms as best as he can, but it’s not enough-

“Huh,” she says, trying to channel Caduceus, and watches his sisters dig into his back for a moment. Something something destiny, calm, balance-

Oh. She grins and spiders her fingers ever so lightly over the vulnerable spot, and Caduceus howls.

Beau settles in, satisfied, and keeps spidering until he’s thrashing and laughing too hard to get more than a couple broken words out. He’s not anywhere near out of breath, not yet, so she figures they’ve got at least a couple more minutes of squeaking, ticklish Caduceus and she’s going to enjoy every single one of them.

“Oh, dear,” someone says, unexpectedly close. Beau whips around to see Caduceus’ mom, holding a whole tray of mismatched teacups and looking like she’s desperately trying not to laugh.

Caduceus’ ears twitch. “MOM,” he wails. “SAVE ME, I’M GONNA DIE.”

She does laugh then, a little misty-eyed, and juggles the tray so she can prop a hand on her hip. “Calliope, Clarabelle, be nice to your brother,” she chides. “He came a long way to find us.”

“But he blinded us!” Clarabelle tattles, painfully earnest even as she grins from ear to ear. “He hasn’t even said sorry yet!”

“Clarabelle Clay.”

Beau’s spine locks up in instant parental-dissatisfaction panic, but Clarabelle just laughs and echoes back “Mo-oom,” before moving her hands and sprawling forward onto her brother. Calliope stops too, with one last dig into his back that inspires a final agonized wiggle, and sits back on her hands triumphantly as Caduceus wheezes and scrambles up to safety.

Beau rocks to her feet, sticking her hands in her pockets, and takes in the full glory of a seven-foot-tall firbolg doing his level best to hide behind his mother. Clarabelle and Calliope get up too and grab their tea, the former sticking her tongue out as Caduceus peeks at her with narrowed eyes.

“If you two are done,” Caduceus’ mom says firmly, “it looks like there are still vegetables that need attending to.”

“Oh, yeah,” Calliope says, and fixes Clarabelle with a look.

“Yeah!” Clarabelle echoes, looking innocently back.

She yelps as Calliope drags her away. Beau shuffles her feet for a moment as Caduceus’ mom turns to her. “Uh - if some of those are for us, I can take them - I know you guys probably want your time alone-”

Caduceus ducks a little further down, and his mom laughs again. “Oh, dear, you can stay as long as you like, but these will be better hot.”

“Got it.” Beau smirks up at Caduceus. “I have to go talk to Jester, anyway.”

She grabs the tray and speed-walks back across the room, barely hearing Caduceus’ hurried “I’ll go help her” before his heavier footsteps echo behind. If it were Fjord or Caleb she’d channel her ki to beat him handily back to the others, but, well - he doesn’t deserve it, really.

He’s walking fast, anyway - once she slows down, it’s only a couple seconds before she can feel his warm presence at her side.

He holds a hand out for the tray. “Don’t tell them.”

Beau looks at him then, still smug, and grimaces. “Oh, Duceus, you’ve got something on your face.”

He makes a face and wipes at his running nose with his sleeve, still trying to catch his breath. “Don’t tell them,” he says again. “I mean, they’ll find out eventually, and none of you are as mean as Calliope so it’ll be okay, but - please.”

She pretends to think it over. “I don’t know, I think your sister’s kind of great.”

Caduceus sighs heavily. “I’m not surprised.”

“I won’t tell them.” She does reach over to nudge at his spine though, expertly balancing the tray, and laughs as he squirms away from her. “You have to… make tea for me every night though. For a week.”

Caduceus blinked. “I already do that, you asked me to.”

“Which is exactly why I’m not gonna rat you out, Caduceus. You’re just a little bit less of an asshole than the rest of us.”

Caduceus looks - surprisingly pleased, at that. Beau tells herself it’s more about the prospect of not having Jester try to jump him every morning than her approval. “I appreciate it.”

Beau hands the tray over and crosses her arms, looking up at him. “You don’t really mind though, do you? Seems weird that you’d keep getting all of us, if you did.”

He shrugs. “I don’t, it’s just- it’s different around family. They already know everything about me.”

That jealousy sneaks out onto her tongue, quick and bitter, before she realizes it. “Well, I wouldn’t know.”

Beau looks away then, speeding up to get ahead of him. She manages to take a single step before something tickles at the back of her armpit and she nearly drops all of her stuff.

She curses and whirls around. “Caduceus!”

He looks evenly back at her. “Yeah, you would.”

It takes a second to connect the conversational thread, but she can’t help but smile once she does. “Thanks, Caduceus.”

He smiles back. “You’re welcome.”

“Deal’s off though,” she quips, and before he can react she’s sprinting down the hallway as fast as she can.

She’s not going to tell on him, but for tickling her? He’s gonna have to chase her down if he wants to make sure.

#tickling #critical role #caduceus clay #beauregard lionett #clarabelle clay #calliope clay #chocfic

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journalxxx · 3 years

Text

By Hook or by Crook (7)

“So! How does it look?” Toshinori asked, with a booming voice and his best hands-on-hips pose to kickstart the endeavor with a healthy dose of enthusiasm.

He wasn’t particularly successful.

“Daunting. Impossible. Like I’m gonna die of old age before I’m anywhere close to making a change.”

“A little optimism goes a long way, you know?”

“...I may not die before I’ve lugged away some of this.” Midoriya amended tentatively, scanning the extensive length of garbage-filled beach stretching before them. “And… what doesn’t kill me will make me stronger?”

“That’s the spirit!” Toshinori gave him a pat on the back, strong enough to make the boy stammer forwards. He walked around the back of the truck and started unloading the few supplies he’d brought.

“Wear these.” Toshinori threw him a pair of work gloves. He hoped he’d eyeballed the size right. “I trust you’re up to date with all your vaccines.”

“Uhm.”

“Hopefully no one’s dumping organic waste in here, but I’ll bring some traps if you see any rats. They won’t solve the problem, but it’s better than letting them scurry around freely.”

Midoriya’s eyes darted between the gloves and the beach with muted horror. “R-Rats?”

“Scared of rats?” Toshinori couldn’t help but tease. “Did I mention that I had to wade through the sewers for half an hour before finding you and the sludge villain the other day?”

Midoriya instantly looked mortified. “I-I’m sorry-”

“Not your fault! Don’t apologize!” Toshinori tossed his hands in the air. This kid desperately needed to learn the basic mechanics of humor. “I’m just saying that heroes can’t be squeamish! Rats come with the job, as well as a variety of nasty stuff and filth.”

“Right.” Midoriya followed him as Toshinori, cooler in one hand and bag of papers in the other, sat down on the last steps of the stairs. He picked an egg sandwich for himself and fished a folder out of the bag, opening it on his thighs and starting to read it.

It took him a few seconds to realize that Midoriya was still staring at him, as if awaiting further instructions.

“Well? Have at it!” Toshinori gestured widely at his new playground.

“Oh, uhm, okay.” The kid donned the gloves and took a single step towards the piles before pausing to look at Toshinori again. “I thought you wanted to ask me… stuff.”

“Yes, but I’m not sure you can handle working and talking at the same time without building up some stamina first.” Toshinori answered, eyeing the boy’s scrawny frame critically. “We’ll talk while you’ll be taking a break to catch a breather, which is probably going to happen sooner rather than later.”

“Oh… All right.” Midoriya turned away, his arms hanging limply from hunched shoulders as he muttered to himself. “...Where do I even start...?”

“From the small things. Working your way up to the heavier objects.” Toshinori explained patiently, then gave him a pointed look. “I get the feeling you’re procrastinating.”

The boy approached the closest stack… and did nothing. Was he ever going to stop waffling and get cracking? “Meanwhile, you’ll just, uh… do your own thing?”

“Surely you don’t need me to guide you through the elaborate process of moving objects from point A to point B, do you?” Maybe the kid detected the hint of annoyance in Toshinori’s voice, because he finally, finally set to grab the closest piece of junk- “...Oh. Okay, that’s not a great start.”

“What?” Midoriya stopped halfway through picking up what was probably the first electric fan ever invented, all the way back in the Iron Age. “I haven’t even done anything yet!”

“Bend your knees, not your back. Otherwise you’re going to- do you really not know this? Isn’t the correct way to lift weights Household Chores 101?”

“Oh, right, I know.” Midoriya rearranged his stance in a way that was less likely to earn him a slipped disk within the next two hours. “Do people really lift things like this though? It’s… a lot harder than the normal way.”

“For your legs, yes. For your back, no. You’ll thank me when you’ll be old enough to realize you aren’t made out of rubber.”

Toshinori munched slowly while he watched the kid carry his first loads to the truck. That act alone seemed to distract Midoriya to an amusing degree, his gaze often flicking to meet Toshinori’s eyes for just a moment before shooting back in front of him with blatant self-consciousness. Toshinori allowed the boy a few minutes of warm-up, just the time for him to finish his sandwich and sip a small cup of apple juice, before deciding to kick things into proper gear.

“Running from the truck to the heaps and vice versa would help you gain some endurance too, rather than leisurely strolling back and forth.” Toshinori commented as Midoriya walked past him.

The kid stopped in his tracks and regarded him with a mix of horror and aversion that vaguely reminded him of death-row inmates when faced with their executioners.

“What?” Toshinori went on, unperturbed. “Are you expecting to get fit without getting tired?”

“No, of course not-”

“Besides, you’ll need to keep a swift pace if you want to clear the whole beach before the admission exam.”

“Wha- All of it?! Before the…” Midoriya sputtered, arms wrapping more tightly around the broken chair he was holding as if that was supporting him instead of the other way around. “Y-You never said…”

“But of course! They don’t do things by half measures in U.A., so why should you?” Toshinori grinned. “Plus Ultra, am I right?”

Midoriya let out an incredulous chuckle. “You’re kidding, right? There’s no way I can do something like that...”

“Depends on how much elbow grease you’re willing to put into it.”

Midoriya’s expression shifted minutely as he caught onto Toshinori’s seriousness. “But… but that’s impossible! No matter how hard I work, I can’t- I can’t move stuff like that!” He griped, pointing at the wrecked husk of a van half-buried under a mound of assorted refuse. “Even if I do my best-”

“And pray tell, what’s your best?” Toshinori stood up and walked to the kid, ditching the whimsical demeanor. If playful cajoling wasn’t enough to stir him, maybe it was time to bust out the big guns. “What’s the heaviest you can lift? The fastest you can run? The hardest you can push yourself? When’s the last time you actually tried your very best, and how did it fall short?”

Toshinori was already well and truly spent for the day, but he let the provocation and drive in his words stoke the fire within him, and it flared. The Symbol of Peace broke out of his diminutive shell among dramatic wisps of steam, ready to bestow his wisdom more effectively than his rickety counterpart ever could.

“Do you know what’s the only way to gauge your limits? Reaching them. And the only way to get stronger?“ Toshinori held out his arm between them, and clenched his fist resolutely. He relished the sensation of unyielding muscles tensing and bulging under his skin, tangible proof of the truth of his assertions. “Gritting your teeth and smashing past them! Little by little, but constantly!”

Midoriya had only witnessed that transformation once, poorly and by accident, and it showed. The chair had slipped from his hands without him even noticing, and now lay forgotten at his feet on the bare sand. The kid was gawking at him with wide eyes and mouth agape, the very picture of spellbound rapture. It was far from an unfamiliar reaction from whoever was graced by the Symbol of Peace’s presence, and yet it was still flattering, every time.

“You’ll never improve if you keep dwelling on what you think you can do now. Focus on what you want to do next. Visualize it as a clear goal. Build an image out of it, and then carve it in reality. If you really want that van to move, then it will move. If you really want this beach to be clear, then it will be. But you have to put your back, sweat and heart into making it happen!”

All Might captivated his one-man audience with the usual effortlessness, boisterous showmanship and honest positivity deeply intertwined in a way that boggled his detractors’ minds, but that felt so natural and appropriate to Toshinori. He’d made an art out of it, down to the rumble of his voice and the firmness of his gestures and the levity of his attitude, the art of highlighting and displaying the very best parts of himself so that they could resonate louder, better, brighter.

“So what will it be, young Midoriya? Will you clean up this place within the next ten months or not?”

“Y-Yes. I will.” That had done the trick. It was obvious from the way Midoriya’s back straightened and his expression toughened. It was obvious from the spark kindled in his eyes, a reflection of Toshinori’s own passion, still lacking in heat but full of potential.

“Then you’d better get down to it!” The hero sealed the deal with a radiant smile and a thumbs up. “Time’s a-wastin’!”

“Yes, sir!” Midoriya picked up the chair and dashed towards the truck to unload it there, then he immediately bounced back down the stairs and towards the nearest heap of waste. Toshinori observed the boy’s next rounds with his unwavering smile and few approving nods that kept the kid a bit lighter on his feet.

How much easier it was for All Might to touch people’s hearts. How much easier to inspire, to reassure, to nurture. How much easier everything was for All Might, really. If only that shining beacon of hope wasn’t shackled by the whims of a withering body, how much richer society at large would be for it.

Toshinori let out a deep exhale that took more than just air out of him, and the flame settled down to a low glow. He couldn’t hold back a few wet coughs, and he promptly turned his shrunken back on Midoriya’s concerned glance to sit back on the cool steps.

Unfortunately, there was a lot more than motivation to strength training. Right off the bat, Toshinori could tell that Midoriya wasn’t going to last twenty full minutes of workout. He honestly didn’t know that an ostensibly healthy individual could reach the ripe age of fourteen with such poor body awareness. The boy had coordination and balance on par with a toddler’s: he stumbled on his feet, he tripped on sand, he nearly fell off the stairs twice before realizing that trying to climb them while his view was obstructed by the very items he was carrying might be a less than optimal solution. He seemed to be unaware of the existence of entire muscle groups, and Toshinori had to physically get up and mime movements for him to understand how to exert force more efficiently. Not to mention that he needed incessant needling lest his sprints quickly devolved into lax jogs.

This whole training thing was going to be… an interesting experience, Toshinori could already tell.

Exactly sixteen and a half minutes later, the boy all but collapsed on the stairs beside Toshinori, gasping for air and wiping his forehead on his sleeve.

“B-Break?” He pleaded, quite redundantly.

Toshinori took pity on his plight and pushed the cooler in his direction. “Have a drink.”

“Oh, thank you…” The lack of polite refusal made Toshinori suspect that Midoriya had forgotten to bring his own water.

“There’s sports drinks and fruit juice in there too. Save the snacks for after you’re finished, food and heavy workouts don’t always agree with each other.” Toshinori had packed food primarily for himself, expecting their after-school meeting to last long enough for him to slot in one or two meals in the meantime, but he had taken care of adding a few extras for the kid. A good idea, because the possibility of Midoriya face planting on the ground halfway through out of sheer exhaustion seemed more and more likely by the minute.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to…”

“I promised bribes, didn’t I?”

Midoriya flashed him the tiniest smile, and eagerly drank some water while Toshinori retrieved a small journal and a pen from the other bag. He skimmed through the list of preliminary topics he’d scribbled on the first page under Tsukauchi’s advice, wondering which one he should tackle first.

“All right.” Deciding to follow his instinct in spite of basic common sense, Toshinori decided to begin from the end. “These phone calls of yours. Give me an idea of what they’re like. The last one you had with your father was on April 1st, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it. Everything you talked about, as precisely as you can remember it.”

The good thing was that Midoriya’s memory was very accurate, and he was able to recall the whole conversation basically step by step. The less good thing was that said conversation was largely commonplace and unremarkable, consisting of very ordinary small talk and inquiries about school, grades, news, local events-

“Quirks?”

“Mh-hm.” The boy nodded. “We always end up talking about quirks, in one way or another. Quirks and heroes. It’s always been… a common interest.”

“Always, uh?”

“Yeah, we’ve been doing it since… forever, really. I’ve always found quirks fascinating, and he has lots of great insight to offer.”

“I can imagine...” Toshinori mumbled. Asking who had initiated that habit was probably pointless, it sounded like it had started too early in the boy’s life for him to remember - or even to understand if he had been deliberately led to develop that interest. Some intriguing nature-versus-nurture speculations could be made on the matter, but they weren’t likely to aid Tsukauchi’s case. “And in what way do you talk about them?”

“We… analyze them, discuss them. What is known for sure about a certain quirk, what can be deduced from footage and descriptions of its use, what its unmentioned limitations might be, how it could be further developed… You saw my notebook, right? Basically the kind of stuff that’s in there.”

“Wait.” Toshinori blinked. Could he have already stumbled into a treasure trove of All For One-certified information? “You mean that all that’s written in that notebook was dictated by your father?”

The kid almost choked on his next gulp of water, and shot Toshinori an almost offended look. “No! No, no, it’s all stuff I found out on my own! Well, almost all of it, there are some additions of his here and there, but… Uh, I’d say at least 90% of it is mine, and 10% of it is his… Actually, more like 95% and 5%-”

Well, that sounded less promising, but it was still a lead. “So he’s been basically teaching you how to conduct your own quirk analyses?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say teaching. I wish our school teachers were that engaging...” Midoriya let out a small sigh. “But I guess we do go about it a little like with school essays. Research, deadline, discussion and all that…”

“Pardon?”

“Well, every month we decide which heroes or quirks we’re going to talk about the next time - back in March we chose Hawks, Kido and Snatch for last month’s call, for example. During the rest of the month we gather information and draw our conclusions, and then we compare them during the next chat.”

“You’ve got quite the well-oiled routine going on there, haven’t you?”

“Actually, I think it’s just to give me a chance to make my own deductions with a clear head instead of on the fly.” Midoriya scratched said tousled head in embarrassment. “I bet he doesn’t even need to do any research, he’s always on the top of his game. I’ve never been able to, uh… one-up him, you know? He always knows what I’m driving at, and somehow he always brings my hypotheses two or three steps further than where I stop.”

Toshinori answered with a non-committal hum. No surprise there, the man was a living quirk storeroom complete with its own self-congratulatory, sentient database. “You don’t seem too bothered by it though.”

“Oh, I’m not. It’s not like he’s ever… disappointed or angry or anything, even if I don’t get stuff. He just enjoys chatting, I guess.” That he surely did, Toshinori grimly thought. Way too much. “And I do too. It’s kind of like a game. Or a challenge.”

“A challenge?”

“Yeah, uh… How can I explain…?” The boy drummed his fingers on the bottle as he collected his thoughts. “Okay, for example: one of the first things dad asked me about Hawks was what shape his wings are, and what I could deduce from that about his flight capabilities. Which was a trick question! I knew it as soon as I heard it, because I’d already figured out the real answer during my research.”

“Ah.” Toshinori blinked. “And… how is that a trick question, exactly?”

“Because Hawks doesn’t actually fly! Not like a bird, at least, so his wing shape doesn’t matter!” Midoriya beamed, and suddenly Toshinori realized that that was the first real, genuine, enthusiastic smile the boy had given him since they’d met. And, without exaggeration, not crying, panicking or grimacing made him look almost like an entirely different person. “He simply can’t! Humans can’t fly even if you stick a pair of wings to them, they’re just too heavy! Other heroes who can fly properly are mostly transformers, like Ryukyu - their whole bodies change when they shift, bone structure and all - but Hawks’ body is entirely human if you exclude his wings.”

Midoriya reached for his backpack and drew out the same charred notebook Toshinori had signed days earlier. An item so vital to the kid’s daily life that he always had it with him, apparently, even more essential than beverages during a workout session. A peculiar, if questionable, trait.

“What Hawks actually does isn’t flying, it’s levitating!” The kid held the notebook open before Toshinori’s eyes on a spread page dedicated to the hero in question. “He uses the second facet of his quirk, the telekinesis that allows him to control his feathers singularly! That also explains his incredible speed, which is completely unjustifiable if you only take into account normal bird flight aerodynamics. His propulsion is powered by his feathers - and each of them is quite speedy and powerful on its own, so it stands to reason that he would be lightning-fast when his wings contain so many of them pushing him in unison!”

Toshinori politely elected to wait for the onslaught of words to subside on its own, although he already suspected that it was a little like standing right under a waterfall and waiting for someone higher up to turn off the faucet.

“That said, that doesn’t explain everything about his quirk… For example, a single feather of his is capable of lifting and transporting an adult person, that has been extensively documented. Yet, he loses the ability to levitate relatively soon after dispatching too many of them - he becomes unable to float even when he still has at least several dozens of them attached to his body. We couldn’t figure out why that happens with the information we have. Maybe it’s harder for him to apply his power to himself, that is often the case for emitters. Maybe it messes with his proprioception, and he can’t control the feathers he hasn’t detached as finely as all the others…”

If there was one thing Toshinori was absolutely certain of at this point, it was that the kid wasn’t short on breath any more. “And this is the part you inferred on your own.”

“Yep! And dad agreed with all of it!” Midoriya’s smile grew even wider. It was astonishing how much it didn’t look like dad’s deranged, shark-like, nightmare-inducing sneer, and Toshinori could only send a quiet thanks to the heavens for that. “This is all guesswork though. Do you… by any chance, do you know if we were on the right track? I’d be really curious to know…”

“Ah, I can’t help you there, kid.” Toshinori felt suddenly on the spot. “I’m not acquainted with Hawks, nor do I know more about his quirk than the average person.”

“Oh, I thought… Since you’re both- I mean, I thought All Might may have met him during the billboard chart events, what with them both being in the top ten.”

“We passed by each other, yes, but we were never properly introduced. He wasn’t particularly interested in rubbing elbows with the old guard, I suppose.”

“Oh. Well, that’s his loss, for sure.” Midoriya, funnily enough, pouted. “Pity, I was wondering… Even if he doesn’t fly, he does flap his wings in a way that resembles a bird’s. I wonder if that’s intentional, to mislead opponents and prevent them from figuring out how he actually moves. Or maybe he does it subconsciously…”

“I’m afraid I really don’t know…” Toshinori had never met Hawks on the field either, it wasn’t common for accidents to require more than a single big-name hero to intervene these days. Especially if one of them was the number one, who often showed up first and invariably solved any incident in mere minutes-

Toshinori suddenly came back to himself and almost facepalmed in frustration. Why was he letting himself be interrogated about completely irrelevant hero trivia? He was the one asking questions! God, he was bad at this. “And your father had nothing to contribute about all this?”

“Not about this specifically, but he did raise a point I hadn’t considered.” Midoriya looked up at the sky, once again lost in his very wordy, very deep lucubrations. “Hawks has an astonishing control on his quirk. He can use his telekinesis to move hundreds of feathers at once, to sense his surroundings, he can even harden them and turn them into weapons. He made Fierce Wings into an incredibly versatile ability, and he’s so young too… And yet, there’s no record of him attending any hero school or training facility in Japan, nor abroad. He claims to be self-taught, but… admittedly, it is hard to believe. One would think he must have had some excellent education and tutoring to make it into the top ten when he was only eighteen…”

Toshinori didn’t reply. Midoriya looked back at him when the silence stretched, and whatever he spied on Toshinori’s face made him immediately backpedal. “I-I mean, it’s odd, but, uh… not suspicious per se, nor a sign of anything… weird or bad about him. There are many heroes who, ehr, prefer to keep their personal history private, especially geniuses, and that’s fine! They have all the right to! Same goes for their quirks, it makes total sense-”

Toshinori massaged his left temple slowly. Right, better just nip this topic in the bud before it got irredeemably out of hand.

He peered again at the notebook in Midoriya’s hands. So All For One had been imparting occasional, amicable quirk analysis lessons to the kid for a good decade, which sounded suspiciously like the kind of knowledge a potential underling or successor might use. On the other hand, Toshinori could think of a million other ways for the Symbol of Fear to instil skills in his son - all of them remarkably more efficient, safe, manageable and ruthless. The whole thing was contradictory in a way that didn’t sit right with Toshinori.

“Mind if I take another look at that?” Toshinori had been in a bit of a rush the first time round, and he’d only taken a cursory glance at the contents of Midoriya’s notes. But if there was a chance of those pages containing words uttered by All For One himself, a more thorough examination was in order.

“Not at all! But, uh…” Midoriya was fast to hand out the item, but his eagerness to assist was even faster to dampen. “Are you going to retain this as evidence too?”

“Mh, I don’t think that will be necessary...” Right, the poor kid’s house had probably been ransacked even further after Toshinori and Tsukauchi’s first pass. No wonder he was worried about losing this prized possession too. “But if it will be, I can make a copy of it for you to keep, so you won’t lose all your, uh, data.”

“Oh, thanks! That would be great!” The kid perked up instantly. He was so easy to please. “Although… I guess I should make a copy of it myself anyway. It’s already kind of… unrecoverable. I could detach the pages with All Might’s sign and preserve those separately, and just photocopy everything else…”

Toshinori’s imagination mercilessly supplied him with the picture of a new addition to Midoriya’s bedroom decor, his five-second poorly-made signature hung to a wall in an elegant frame. He repressed a groan, deliberately neglected to point out that he could simply provide as many new authentic signs as needed, and directed his attention back to the scorched edges of the notebook. “Right… What happened to this thing, anyway? Did someone put it in a toaster?”

Midoriya let out a totally not nervous chuckle as he wrung his hands in a totally not nervous fashion. “Oh, uhm... You know…” Toshinori didn’t, actually, but the kid didn’t elaborate either.

Well, he was allowed to have a modicum of privacy, still. Toshinori let the issue drop, and nudged the boy with his foot. “You seem well rested. Back to the trash you go.”

Midoriya shuffled to his feet less than enthusiastically, and resumed toiling away at his task. While still checking on him often, ready to poke and prod at the first hint of sluggishness, Toshinori browsed through the kid’s notebook. While the contents were indeed worthy of attention, they were scarce in quantity. It must be rather new, since less than a quarter of the pages had been filled. However, the promise of more material to be discovered made Toshinori withhold his judgement on the matter for the time being.

Once that was done, he continued his perusal of the few files Tsukauchi had already put together about the Midoriya case. Toshinori had practically begged his friend to let him have an active role, any active role in the case: he simply couldn’t bear to twiddle his thumbs until someone else kindly pointed him to All For One’s hideout for another overdue thrashing. He simply needed to be involved, or he’d probably start crawling up walls within a week.

Questioning the kid was pretty much the only suitable occupation for him, currently… Well, it was either that or questioning Mrs. Midoriya, and Toshinori was fairly sure that his brain would leak out of his ears if he heard any more details about All For One’s romantic escapades. He wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to investigative work, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he was going to spare no effort to earn some results. If that meant poring over reams of police reports in the hopes of spotting some helpful clue, so be it. At least it would keep him busy, and busy was good, especially in trying times.

He’d applied the same logic to Midoriya, in a sense. The boy seemed the kind of person who’d very easily overthink himself into a negative spiral, even in less dire circumstances than the messy family drama he’d found himself into. It would do him good to focus on a better future, rather than on his depressing present. Giving him a goal to set his sights on would keep him going more smoothly.

At first Toshinori had thought to motivate him towards his dream career, but it turned out that the boy’s strategy about the admission test was… nebulous at best. Not that he could truly blame him for it: fourteen-year-old Toshinori didn’t exactly have a multi-step plan towards becoming the Symbol of Peace either, one couldn’t help being somewhat scatterbrained at that age.

The illegal dumping site had been a serendipitous discovery, and cleaning it up was the perfect type of goal to incite the boy towards. It was very obvious and straightforward, and required no intricate planning: he simply needed to roll up his sleeves and buckle down. And the muscle he’d build while doing it would serve him well for heroic purposes too, so it was a win-win on all fronts. Not to mention that some good old physical exertion would help him sleep at night, which he was still struggling with, if the persistent bags under his eyes were of any indication. Toshinori dearly missed the times when that trick still worked on him too, when driving himself to the brink of exhaustion was a guaranteed one-way ticket to restful and regenerative dreamland. Nowadays, if he accumulated even a sliver of excessive fatigue, all he got was… well, fatigue. And a metric ton of unrelenting body pains and lasting debilitation.

The rest of the afternoon went by smoothly and unremarkably. Midoriya drudged through many rounds of garbage disposal with decreasing energy and verve, but that was to be expected. Toshinori collected more barely relevant and generally useless information, but that was to be expected too. They were both in for the long haul, there was no point in getting upset about it. Eventually the sun started to set, and Toshinori beckoned the boy back to him with a handwave.

“You have more of these?” Toshinori said, tapping his index on the big 13 on the cover of the notebook still on his lap.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Could you bring them with you next time?”

“All of them?” Midoriya seemed frazzled.

“If you still have them, yes. Would that be a problem?”

The boy scratched his head as his cheek reddened slightly. “N-No, not a problem, but some of them are really… I finished the first one when I was seven. They aren't just outdated, they’re… ehr, childish. Just doodles and misspelled ramblings.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’ll be grading them.” Not yet, at least. Toshinori smirked at his own private joke. Maybe he should grade them, as a small practice run. “I just want to give a quick read to a few things here and there.”

“O-Okay…”

“Good. Well, I think we can call it a day.” Toshinori rummaged in his cooler to fetch a chocolate energy bar, and tossed it to the exhausted boy. “Catch.”

Despite the warning, Midoriya did not catch, and the snack bumped against his chest and fell to the ground with a sad clack. Reflexes were MIA too, apparently. What a rare specimen of a prospective hero Toshinori had crossed paths with.

“T-Thank you!” Midoriya immediately picked it up, unwrapped it and shoved it into his mouth as he hopped into the passenger seat of the truck. Whether it was real hunger or fear of passing as rude, Toshinori couldn’t tell.

The drive to Midoriya’s house was brief. The boy was too tired to chat - as if they hadn’t already had their fill for the day. When they arrived and Midoriya climbed out of the vehicle to be on his way, Toshinori finally addressed one last pressing issue.

“Tomorrow your father is going to call you.”

“Yeah.” The kid’s eyes dropped to the ground. Maybe Toshinori should have brought it up sooner. Way to end the meeting on a sour note.

“How are you going to handle that?”

“I’m not.” The boy shrugged. “Mom will tell him I just got my tonsils removed. It's… safer for now. I think.”

Toshinori nodded. “Let’s take a day off then. Even if you can’t speak, he might want to say something to you, and it would be strange for you not to be at home while recovering.”

“Okay.”

He looked so very small, and so very young like that, bathed in the warm hues of sunset, but with no real warmth to his eyes and demeanor. He was too small and too young to be dealing with this shit. No one was old or big enough to deal with any of All For One’s shit, really. Toshinori would have to make sure no one would have to ever again.

“Thank you for your help today. It’s very appreciated, believe me.” Toshinori offered, with his most sincere smile. “Feel free to text me or Tsukauchi if anything comes up, you should be able to reach at least one of us at any hour of day or night.”

“Okay. Thank you. Have a good evening.”

“You too, kid.” Toshinori watched him until the door of his house closed behind his back, then he drove off.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #deku #izuku midoriya #All Might #Toshinori Yagi

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finiteuniverse13 · 3 years

Text

home is people, not a place 2/?

Part 1

Summary: Clay gets attacked on base. DEVGRU finds an issue in that.

TW: Blood mention, physical assault, canon typical violence

Tag: @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @bravo-four-seal-team @velvetcardiganbucky @supervalcsi @abby-splace @itsonautopilot @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @mrsmarvelous1995 @jayhalsteadfan-2417

Lisa is pissed. She has every right to be. Clay had been attacked in the Bravo cages.

She’d watched the kid go from a strap who couldn’t stay in his own lane to an operator who could lead Bravo – and Tier One, for that matter – into the future. And then he’d been attacked in his team’s cages, in his own cage. Blackburn was still at the hospital – he’d found the kid in a pool of his own blood; Lisa wouldn’t blame him if it took an apocalypse to separate him from the kid – making sure that the kid got appropriate care.

She pushed open the door to Bravo’s briefing room, not that it actually had any members of Bravo in it. Alpha, Charlie and Delta were all there, waiting on her brief on the situation. Echo would have been there, if not for them being halfway through their first deployment as a team. There had been hesitation about deploying Echo – the loss of the last Echo line-up still sat heavily in the Tier’s mind.

The three team’s Master Chiefs and 2ICs had sat in Bravo’s usual chairs. Full Metal and Derek sat in Jason and Ray’s chairs, respectively. Beau and his second in command had taken Sonny and Trent’s, while TJ was sat in Brock’s. Delta Two had distinctively chosen not to sit in Clay’s seat, instead sitting in a chair usually used for either Cerberus or a support staff member, depending on the op.

(It was very funny to watch Brock and Clay push a wheely chair with Cerberus on it between the two of them, and they’d pretty much mastered the art of doing it in the last few months. Cerb had found that if he allowed it to happen, he’d get belly rubs and treats, so he was unbothered about it)

The other seats had a random assignment, seemingly first-come-first-serve. The ones unlucky enough to have not found seats stood tensely, arms crossed and grumbling under their breath to each other.

Nobody sat in Clay’s seat.

All 18 operators looked up when she walked in, attention snapping to the person with the most information. As she walked in, her gaze caught on the table space in front of Clay’s chair. Clay had left his book on the table. It’s about as thick as a brick, and Sonny would probably take a glance at it and tell Clay it was as dry as one. The embossed cover didn’t read English, and Lisa had a feeling that there would be very few, if any, people in the room able to read any part of the book.

She stood at the front and pushed her emotions down. These operators were here for information, not emotion.

“At 0145 this morning, 4 Green Team members entered Bravo’s Cage room. At 0157, they left, and returned to the Green Team barracks. 0204, Lieutenant Commander Blackburn entered the Bravo cages. He dialled 911 and was assisted by Alpha Four-”

She cuts herself off for a few seconds, as various operators slapped Jordan on the back, mumbled thanks spreading through the room as they reassured themselves that one of their own had helped their kid.

“Assisted by Alpha Four at 0207. Ambulance arrived at 0215. The Green Team members were apprehended by Alpha and Delta at 0248.”

She pauses again as a ripple of thanks goes through to room, Alpha and Delta thanking their Master Chiefs and each other and Charlie thanking both teams.

“Petty Officer Spenser was admitted to hospital at 0224, and was assessed as having a concussion, a broken nose and 5 bruised ribs.”

Alpha, Charlie and Delta’s medics all take note of this. They’re probably going to be on Clay’s ass for the next few months about this, right behind Trent.

“Bravo arrived at the Hospital at 0243. They are all with him. Hayes has asked that he is included in any appropriate punishments.”

Full Metal snorts. “Bet he didn’t word it like that”

A series of chuckles and grins echoes around the room. He did not word it like that. There was much more swearing, and much, much less formal language. He’d implied murder no less than 5 times.

Lisa allowed a smile to pass through the stony calm façade she had up.

“Command has delegated these appropriate punishments to be carried out within DEVGRU and have stressed the importance of leaving an impression on future graduates. This cannot be a recuring event.”

TJ pipes up first, almost before she’d finished talking. “I say we let Metal work his magic, make sure nobody finds them.”

This gets mixed responses, but Lisa isn’t surprised when none are wholly negative. They all had a younger brother in the form of Clay, and they had all trained for years in the art of killing their enemies as swiftly and efficiently as possible, and these candidates fell wholly and completely under the title of ‘Enemy’.

Metal gives a faux hopeful look to Lisa, and Lisa can tell that he’s not entirely dismissed the possibility, even as he does a terrible job at pretending to still consider it an option that Lisa could authorize. Lisa plays into the joke – god knows that Tier One needs some light in this disastrous day – and gives him the look mostly used for when Bravo (usually Sonny) suggests a stupid idea that shouldn’t had even crossed their minds. Blackburn jokingly referred to it as her “bad dog” look, and it worked for its purpose, making the operators put their tails between their legs. A few faces form smiles, and a few look to be wavering on the edge of smiling.

“No murder, and no death.”

This gets her grumbles, and not all of them are joking. Clay had gotten all of them out of sticky situations. Every operator in Tier One had a handful story where Clay had needed to be briefed on their op, and all of them had at least one where he’d taking calls at 2am to translate over a connection that he could barely hear English through. He’d never berated them for waking him up, and had often taken time to teach various operators key phrases, if he knew they were deploying somewhere where he knew the language.

Beau goes next, possibly the most level-headed of the Master Chiefs – both in the room and not. “Advanced SERE?”

Now this, Lisa can work with. Something about her posture must change, a twitch in her face, because the room suddenly erupts in sound. Charlie Two, Delta Five and Alpha Three all are in close enough range to clap Beau on the back, and they do so in quick succession.

“Gentlemen.” She raises her voice to be heard by the room. There’s nothing gentle about the looks on their faces.

“I’ll leave you to figure something out. Report to me with a plan of action.” And with that, she gives them a single nod and begins to leave. Her turned back does not block out the whispers of violence, but it does hide the vicious smile that’s stretched itself out along her face.

Nobody would even think about hurting their kid. Ever again.

As Clay blearily opened his eyes, he realised that he’d succumbed to pain-med-induced sleep. A few hours had probably passed since then, based on the fact that sunlight was now filling the room. Sonny was sat on his right side, gaze focused on the room’s TV screen, which was showing a play-by-play of a football game. The volume was cranked down, and even as Clay becomes more aware; he can only hear every other word.

“Son?” The word passes his lips without him meaning it to. Sonny’s head snaps over to Clay, so fast that Clay fears he may have given himself whiplash.

“Hey Bam Bam, how ya doin?” The toothpick moves hypnotically. Stop looking at the toothpick. Stop it. Stop it. Sonny’s casual expression is betrayed by the slight waver in his voice, a sliver of raw emotion that Sonny couldn’t fully supress. Clay gives him a strained smile in lieu of answering and reaches his hand out. Sonny catches the hand before it moves very far, holding it in a tight grip.

Sonny’s thumb absently runs across Clay’s unblemished because he hadn’t even been able to fight back knuckles, and his spare hand turns off the TV, leaving them in silence.

“Kid.” Clay’s eyes widen slightly, and he almost pulls his hand out of Sonny’s grip at the softly spoken word. He tries to get in the apology, the explanation, before Sonny can tell him that Jason is punishing him for being unaware.

“I should have being paying attention. I know I should have been paying attention, I was just so tired.” I’m sorry I’m so sorry don’t kick me out please

Sonny freezes. What?

“Clay. Stop. Stop-” he has to cut himself off before he says something that includes those really touchy-feely-emotions he’s feeling. Thankfully, Clay doesn’t take the pause as an opportunity to continue. “Stop trying to defend yourself. None of us blame you, Blondie. You were on base. You should have been protected. We won’t fail you again.” Sonny gives him facts, because he knows that if he tries to do anything else he’ll make it worse.

“Son?” Clay recalls a voice calling through the dark, through the black water he was floating in, a voice he’d recognised; “Did Blackburn find me? He- he had blood on his hands”

For a moment, Sonny curses Clay’s blessings as a sniper. He’d always been able to notice the little things, the things none of them would notice. “Yeah, he was checking that none of us were sleeping in the cages.”

Clay nods, and then his brows furrow. He breaks eye contact with Sonny and frowns in the genal direction of his feet. His face makes what Sonny calls his ‘Brainiac’ Face, and Sonny can only assume that he’s thinking about what happened with Blackburn, not rationalizing with himself that the beating was somehow his fault.

“Son, can I talk to him?” Sonny doesn’t want to think about whatever that conversation is going to be, so he nods and begins to gather his stuff. His cap is hanging precariously from one on the bed’s corners, his phone on the bedside table. He stands and ruffles Clay’s head, laughing despite the stink-eye he gets for it. Clay doesn’t mind it, and he has the feeling the next few weeks, if not months, are going to be filled with various forms of physical contact to reassure his teammates that he was still with them.

And now he’d asked Sonny to get Blackburn. God what do you even say to the guy who had found you beaten? ‘Hey Boss, I’m sure that what you saw was horrifying, but I’m alright now?’ God help him. Sonny hadn’t given him a weird look, so he’d probably been expecting Clay to ask at some point.

Clay’s train of thought is interrupted when a soft knock sounds on the door. There’s a second of pause before the door opens. Clay can’t think of a time when Blackburn’s looked worse. There are dark circles under his eyes, and a vaguely haunted look in his eyes. His eyes have a red tinge, and Clay can’t tell if that’s from sleep deprivation, or something else. His hands are rubbed red and raw, and Clay can tell that Blackburn had taken extra care to get every fleck of blood off his hands. He’s in a jacket that looks too big for him, and Clay suspects that Trent had a hand in that. Since the injured person – Clay – wasn’t someone he could immediately care for, Trent had gone for the next best thing, a shaken Blackburn. Under the jacket, he’s still in his fatigues, and by the time he’s finished the assessment of Blackburn’s top half, he’d moved close and sat down, hiding everything below his waist from Clay’s view.

Blackburn reaches out, putting a palm on Clay’s forearm, Clay’s hand mirrors it on Blackburn’s arm, and tension bleeds from Blackburn’s figure. His shoulders slump slightly, and he leans forward.

“How are you feeling?”

Clay considers lying, considers saying that he’s not in any pain, considers easing Blackburn’s mind. He decides against it. Blackburn had found him in a pool of blood, it’s the least he can do to tell him the truth. “My ribs hurt. But I’m, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you were there.”

Clay is the sometimes literally bleeding heart of Bravo, levelling out Sonny’s emotional constipation, and the admission is the balm of some of the burns on Eric’s soul. Eric leaned forwards, shuffling closer to the bed, trying to hide the blood on his knees. He hadn’t been home to change, a call to his wife at 8am had told her that he wasn’t going to be home for a while. She, like the amazing wife she was, had been understanding, and then grumbled at him to let her sleep. They’d both laughed and exchanged ‘I love you’s before his wife ended the call. Clay didn’t need the stress of knowing that Eric had knelt in his blood. Nobody needs that.

“Gave me quite a scare, gave all of us quite a scare.” Eric doesn’t tell him that he’d spent the last half hour scrubbing his hands raw, that Jason had needed to strong-arm him into the waiting room, that Trent had given him one look and offered up his jacket, that he’d had his head in his hands until Sonny had come into the room and told him that Clay wanted to talk to him. Doesn’t tell him that he’d stood outside for nearly a minute before he’d knocked, that he’d needed to barrel in before he lost the nerve to speak to his operator. He usually prides himself on staying calm, on being collected, but Clay had been attacked in one of the few places on earth that he could honestly and without reservation call home. That scared Eric. If he couldn’t keep his operators safe on base, where would they be safe?

“Davis is talking to command about adding locks to the cage room doors, make sure this doesn’t happen again.” If she wasn’t already talking to command about it, she would be soon.

Clay nods. He shifts and grimaces in pain.

“Do you want me to get a nurse?” It’s a safe question, one that doesn’t involve the emotions in the room.

Clay ignores the lifeline. “I’m alright as I am. Did you get the guys?”

Eric nods. Breaking the news to Bravo had been the highlight of his morning. “Command is letting DEVGRU work out how to punish them.”

Clay grins. “I bet Metal is having fun with that.”

It’s Eric’s turn to smile, and a soft chuckle makes its way out. “Davis is under strict orders to not accept a plan that involves murder. I’m sure Alpha’s disagreeing with that.”

Alpha was most likely to deploy with Bravo, and all were in line with their Master Chief’s ‘Bury-first-questions-second’ policy when it came to Clay. Eric had a feeling it wouldn’t take much convincing to get Delta and Echo behind the plan, and that Charlie would only argue on principle.

Tier One was a brotherhood that didn’t take kindly to injury, as the world would learn.

Echo One – Zack Greer – a newly promoted Delta Two, wasn’t a very outgoing man. One and Twos were meant to both complement and contrast each other, a precarious balancing act honed over years of living out of each other’s pockets. TJ had needed a level head, so his Two was calm in the face of crisis.

Echo Two, on the other hand. A Floridian man, Elliot Howe, promoted from Charlie Three, who was under strict orders to never drink unsupervised with Sonny Quinn, lest they empty a bar and then burn said bar to the ground. He’d chaffed under Beau’s tight ship, so when the opportunity to move to form Echo had arisen, he was hard pushed to say no.

Together with Echo Three (Alpha Three), Echo Four (Delta Six) and two Green Team graduates as their Five and Six, they’d created a tight brotherhood.

Echo Five, Dan Wilder, a multilingual K9 handler, had initially been lost at DEVGRU, not quite fitting in. He’d reached out to the youngest operator – Bravo Six – in order to get some advice. What he didn’t know at the time is that their languages had overlap. Together with Clay and Ares – his K9 – he’d been able to find someone to practice with.

Echo had long since lost count of how many times Clay had come into their cage room, with a well-loved book, offering it to Dan with a brief explanation of how it would interest him. The book was never in English, and neither was the explanation. For all they knew, Clay could have spent the last few months giving Dan anything from Harry Potter to The Anarchist’s Cookbook (he’d actually only given Dan one of those, and Dan was under strict instructions not to tell them which, and Dan had been recommending others back).

Sonny, on the days when they were hanging out after work, sometimes tagged along to these exchanges. He’d joked about a book club, and Echo Two had picked up on the joke immediately, and since then the pair had resigned themselves to the nickname.

Between Clay’s frequent interactions with Dan and the fact that all of DEVGRU was deadly protective of Clay, it was no surprise that when Echo had heard the news, they hadn’t been happy. Command had fought a battle with Echo to keep them deployed, and Echo had nearly won. Dan had been on many rants, talking to empty space in Pashto – Four only caught a few words, and those were all along the lines of murder and death. Ares was giving out a low, constant growl. Both of the DEVGRU K9s were as protective as their owners, it seemed.

The door to their dorms slammed open and Zack marched in. Echo looks up in sync, and if it weren’t so serious, Zack would be amused by how much his men look like Meerkats. “Got word from Virginia.” This sets his men on edge, Howe half-steps forward, and his shoulders visibly tense up. “They found the green team rookies. We’ve been asked to approve the plan of their punishment before it gets sent to be approved by command.” Malicious smiles break out among the barracks.

They may be 7000 miles away, but they wouldn’t let anybody off the hook because of it.

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cucumbers-and-olives · 3 years

Text

She's A Good Girl

Summary: Luke hates his younger sister. Her perfect facade, her good grades, and most of all- her boyfriend.

Category: kinda a Boy Meets World au?

Fandom: JATP, Boy Meets World

Paring: Eric Mathews x Reader, Luke x Platonic!Sibling!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings/Includes: verbal arguments, implied verbal abuse

A/N: this is for the lovely @dream-a-little-bigger-x's 90's week! if you guys like this, go check out her stuff, its incredible!

Mandatory Thanking of the Betas: @russianalpacafromoldzealand and @funsizearsonist thank you both so so so much!

AO3 link here

Please don’t repost my work without my permission, in part or whole. My work can also be found on AO3 under the same username. Thank you!

“Luke! Keep it down, your sister is studying!” He rolled his eyes at his mother’s shout.

“It’s not like you’re being quiet,” Luke muttered and rolled his eyes, but he turned down the volume on his amp anyway. He didn't want to get yelled at twice, that's for sure.

If there’s anything Luke Patterson wasn’t, it was idiotic (depending on who you asked, of course). “Dumb bitch shouting at the top of her lungs.” He sighed and continued playing his guitar, albeit at a lower level.

Y/N popped her head in the door. “Ya know, you only get to be a smartass when you pass your classes idiot.” She had clearly overheard him as she walked into the room and turned his amp down even lower than he had before. “It doesn’t sound too bad, keep going.” She winked at him and shut the door behind her.

It wasn’t often that Y/N gave Luke complements, but when she did, they were always backhanded ones.

Luke just ignored her and ran through his song again, the chords, the riffs, the random pauses. He had titled this one “Good Girls”. It was about her. Her perfect behavior, her ability to not get caught, and just everything about Y/N made his blood boil. It didn't matter that she was his sister, she was so infuriating, that he hit at her with every line of the song.

Her and her perfect boyfriend, Eric Mathews. He was a senior, a jock, way too cocky, and she was a little miss perfect, sweet and kind, a junior.

Let’s just say, if Luke had a photo of the two of them, it would have darts in it.

“How’s it going in here, hun?” Mom said. She had a glass of water along with some cookies with her as she stepped into the room. Soft music came from the record player in the corner, a big contrast from the music in the room next to hers.

Y/N turned her grimace at the woman’s sudden appearance into a big bright smile as she turned around, closing her textbook but leaving a finger in so she wouldn't lose her place. “It’s good! I was struggling with this one concept, but I think I’ve got it down now.” Her mom smiled, and she knew she had picked the right words.

“Amazing! Well, I’ll leave these cookies with you in case you get hungry-,” A very loud guitar riff emerged from Luke’s room, and her mother’s happy, bright face turned into one of disgust. She always had a bone to pick with Luke. Maybe it was because of the band, maybe it was for just existing, Y/N didn’t know. She had a feeling she never would.

“Mom…” Y/N begged. She knew what was about to happen next, it had happened times before, and it wasn't like anything was gonna change this time. So, as her mom stepped into the hall she turned back to her book and tuned her shouts out.

“There.” The older woman said, stepping back into the girl’s room. She had tormented Luke, and now she focused her happy energy on the child she loved. “You’re doing great sweetie.” She assured Y/N.

As the door closed, Y/N sat back and let out a huge sigh. She loved her mother, but her distaste towards her son was unparalleled.

Soft guitar riffs came from Luke’s room, and she stood up quickly at the chance to see her brother.

Popping her head into the doorway, the exhale that Luke let out was one of relief. He thought I was mom, she thought. That scared her

You sound really good, she wanted to say. Can you teach me? But instead, she insulted him and gave him a half complement.

Not your best moment, Y/N, not your best moment.

“Are you gonna be in the library after school?” Luke asked Y/N as they biked to school. The ride wasn’t long, but it was one of the few times that the siblings got to talk to each other.

“Yeah,” she said. Her eyes had a dreamy kind of look to them. Luke wanted to call her out on her bullshit. Her goody-two-shoes bullshit.

“I better not catch you sucking face with him.” Luke’s voice was cold like steel. He didn’t like her boyfriend, and that was no secret.

She laughed, “Aww, do you not like seeing Eric kiss your little sister? Grow up, I’ll kiss who I want to.” She sped up, biking ahead of him.

“It’s not like I police who you kiss,” Y/N mumbled when she knew she was out of earshot.

“One of these days Mom’s gonna catch you!” He hollered.

“Good girls are bad girls that haven’t been caught! Let her live in her fantasy!” She shouted back.

Luke shook his head, and his next comment he muttered under his breath. “Maybe then she wouldn’t think you’re such a good girl.”

“Hey babe,” A voice whispered from behind Y/N.

She turned around to face Eric, and her eyes lit up as she saw him. “Hi! Sit down, I’m almost done with my history homework.”

“Alright, and then can you do me?” He asked as he sat down and your eyes went wide.

“Mon Dieu,” She said, sighing at his childish behavior.

“Ooh say more,” He grinned wickedly, thinking that she was saying something- not PG, and you looked back up at him from your homework. With a smug smile on your face, you spoke to him in French, knowing that he wouldn’t understand what you were saying.

“I love you so much, but you can be so dumb at times, you dumb idiot. Why you are so idiotic at times, I do not know, now would you please get me some snacks?” He laughed at the end.

“I have no clue what you said, but your face is asking me for snacks, ignoring the fact that you are one- gimme a sec, I’ll be right back with some!” He said, giving her a quick kiss before slightly jogging out of the library in search of the nearest vending machine.

“She is just so infuriatingly perfect, and she just gets praised 24/7 about it,” Luke complained during a pause in rehearsal.

“You wanna play Good Girls then? Throw all your anger into it?” Alex suggested.

Bobby chuckled, “That look on your face says yes, so let’s do it.”

She's a good girl, she's [mommy’s] favorite

[Mom's] saved for Harvard, [mom] knows she'll make it

She's good at school, she's never truant

She can speak French, and I think she's fluent

'Cause every night she studies hard in her room

At least that's what her parents assume

But she sneaks out the window to meet with her boyfriend

Here's what she told me the time that I caught 'em

She said to me, forget what you thought

'Cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

So just turn around and forget what you saw

'Cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

Whoa

Good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

Whoa

Good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

She's a good girl

A straight A-student

She's really into all that self-improvement

I swear she lives in that library

But if you ask her she'll say,

"That's where you'll find me!"

But if you look then you won't find her there

She may be clever but she just acts too square

'Cause in the back of the room, where nobody looks,

She'll be with her boyfriend, she's not reading books

She said to me, forget what you thought

'Cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

So just turn around and forget what you saw

'Cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

Good girls are bad girls and good girls are bad girls!

She's a good girl, hasn't been caught

She said to me, forget what you thought

'Cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

So just turn around and forget what you saw

'Cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

She said to me, forget what you thought

'Cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

So just turn around and forget what you saw

'Cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

Whoa

Good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

Whoa

Good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

Whoa, whoa

Good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

“Hey, that was a really good song!” Eric said, entering the garage. “Who’s it about?”

“Your girlfriend,” Bobby said.

“Yeah, you know what, we need to talk about that. Stay the hell away from her.” Luke said and then he stormed out of the garage.

“Dude what the hell! What’s your deal?” Eric said, walking out after him.

Luke scoffed, turning around. “What’s my deal? It’s you. I know guys like you, and you are going to break her heart. And then I have to pick up the pieces as she tries to look like the perfect girl she was to our parents. That’s my deal.”

“That’s all you think of me? That I’m just a jock that’ll cheat on her?” Eric paused for a second and then he spoke, harsher than before.

“Your band is no longer allowed to practice in my garage. Leave, or I’ll call the cops.”

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