#Mangle's still nonbinary to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bloodycyrano · 1 year ago

Text

Coming Undone, a WIP BG3 fanfic following the events of the game as well as afterwards. I have big plans for future chapters, so stay tuned.

Pairing: Astarion/Durge

Chapter 2/6, "The Pale Elf"

We don't talk about chapter one, it sucks.

Tumblr edition (I edited it further because apparently three weeks of fine tuning wasn't enough and I wanted to change more)

Tags for the entire fic: Cannon-typical violence, Blood and gore, spoilers, slow burn, family drama, nonbinary durge, mentions of past abuse, found family troupe, mentions of homicide, graphic descriptions of homicide, eventual smut, I like to think I'm funny, fluff and angst, gender dysphoria, group shenanigans, Durge is a licensed therapist, character development, loss of limbs, slightly unhinged main character.

Please don't criticize me, I might throw up.

Disclaimer, I do not own the majority of the characters in this fic, nor do I own 80% of the storyline that is to come. Durge does not have the cannon background 100% because the backstory started writing itself before it even occurred to me the actual bhaalspawn logistics. That being said, it does follow 99% of it.

When I awoke, I could feel the fresh ocean waves just barely lapping at my feet, causing shivers to roll up my body despite where I laid out on the warm sand, sun beaming bright overhead..

I shielded my gaze, nose wrinkling in discomfort as my already light sensitive eyes were assaulted by the intense rays of late-spring sunshine..

With a sneer, I picked myself up, off of the sandy ground.. analyzing my surroundings for a moment.. Immediately, my gaze was locked on the wreckage of the nautiloid..

Well.. To my knowledge, not many people could say they crashed an alien ship before, let alone survived one.

I could've almost laughed if it not for the gravity of the situation weighing on my narrow shoulders..

I had half expected my memories to return once I had gained my freedom from the mind flayers ship, but the past few years were still an aching void..

If I didn't find a way to get the parasite out of my brain soon, I knew my future would be wiped clean before I even got a chance to recall any faded memories..

Gritting my teeth, I could feel my chipped nails digging into my palms. An eager feeling flourished in my gut, alongside my usual feeling of anxiety. Eager to fight. To regain my identity..

But first, I'd have to look around. Allies, clues.. Shadowheart and Lae'zel. Maybe find a healer who could remove this horrifying parasite.

I didn't know how long I had left before being transformed, and part of me didn't want to find out.. But still. I needed to know my fate.

I turned around, peering at my surroundings with an inquisitive gaze, hoping to find some sort of clue for how to proceed, or sign of immediate danger..

The wreckage of the nautiloid was all around. I suppose I didn't quite realize how big the ship was until that moment. Seeing the massive thing smashed along the grounds, smoke still rolling off of the partially flaming metal and writhing tentacles. It was somewhat intimidating to look at, I had to admit. But amidst the air of caution, there was a feeling of mystery as well that I couldn't ignore.

My anxious and eager feelings vanished as soon as they rose as I set my eyes on the ashy, rocky planes before me. Rubble and smoke clouding the beach.

When I turned, I could see a mangled fisherman up ahead, no doubt a casualty of the crash.

I felt a pull as I approached. A familiar smile tugging at my lips.

It was a warm feeling. One I had felt before.. Though, to my surprise, I felt perhaps I had become more used to this feeling than what I could merely remember a handful of times in my youth.

I felt a sort of yearning I couldn't yet explain as I stared down at the corpse. But in the back of my head, there was another thought that struck like a lingering miasma. The confused stupor I had found myself in was one that ached violently in my skull. I hated not having my memories, and it weighed heavily on me. What of my family? Had I seen them since I left home? Hurt them..?

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pushed the thought aside. Allowing myself a few more moments of shameless enjoyment as I stood over the bloody cadaver; before moving forward.

A mere few feet away, I could spot Shadowheart, the cleric I had saved on the Mind Flayer ship..

She lay sprawled out on the ash-covered grounds, sand woven between strands of her long, bound, raven hair..

I took a moment to observe.. allowing my gaze to follow over her unconscious form and intricately patterned armor, before settling on her face.

Shadowhearts armor was similar in style to that of many clerics I had seen before, though the patterns etched and woven into the steel were foreign to me.

I wondered, for a moment, what sort of deity granted her divine powers. I had studied many topics in adolescence, including Clerics and the various cloisters surrounding Faerun, but I couldn't remember anything quite like this.

The armor she wore was heavy, and thick. Steel plate layered atop chainmail.

Despite how bulky most heavy armor was, the half elfs garb remained very feminine and almost sleek.

I never quite understood the need for aesthetically pleasing armor. At the end of the day, it was merely to keep you from sustaining fatal damage.

Regardless of my personal thoughts on the matter, however, I couldn't deny that her armor was not only effective, but also had an air of elegance and beauty.. It suited her.

She had sharper features, though they were softened by a sort of youthful naivety. Despite the shitty attitude she had towards Lae'zel on the ship, there was a kindness about her scarred face.

I took a moment longer to assess her for wounds. Unfortunately, if she had been injured in the crash, she would be of very little use to me.

Under closer inspection, I saw she bore no obvious injury. No blood, bruising, nor swelling of any sort.

Quickening my pace, I drew nearer, and could soon hear her sleep-clouded mumbling.. a sort of pleading.

Another thing is that I noticed she still held the metal object from the ship, clutched tightly in her right hand..

My curiosity spiked. I could've taken the item, simply to see what it was while she was incapacitated..

But no. I knew better than that. An ally is an ally, no matter how secretive they may be.

With a stiff and hesitant breath, I reached forward, giving her shoulder a light jostle..

I did my best to be gentle, though I knew my grip could be firm, and perhaps a bit careless at times.

Not like she'd be able to tell through her thick, metal shoulder guards, though.

Jolting awake, she took a deep breath in.. grip tightening on the relic she held as her vibrant green eyes popped open and scanned our surroundings, like sun stricken orbs of glimmering moldavite.

“You're alive,” she remarked, shock evident in her tone. “I'm alive… How is this possible?”

With a faint jingling of her chainmail, she did her best to covertly slip the mystery object into her pack; though her focus was clearly much more settled upon our surprising survival..

I sighed softly, running a hand through my messy and soot-stained hair.. “Doesn't matter,” I shrugged, “We made it. All we can do now is hope our luck doesn't run out.”

Shadowheart let out a faint hum of approval, nodding simply as she looked around..

“True, I suppose.. it seems we are the lucky ones, judging by all the corpses strewn about.” She mused..

“I remember the ship, I remember falling… Then nothing.”

I didn't see the point in retelling the obvious. Instead, I chose to remain task oriented.

“What happened to Lae'zel?” I asked, though reminding myself that the Warrior actually never introduced herself to Shadowheart.. “Our gith friend.”

She furrowed her brow at my clarification, tilting her head a bit as she gazed down at me. “You might want to reconsider calling her a friend-... Looks like she ran off without us.”

I shrugged, “It's not as though we can guarantee her safety. I know little of githyanki culture, but I know of their history with the mind flayers. She's probably terrified, and seeing as we're all infected..-” My voice trailed off as I caught her gaze- I was not typically silenced by a glare, but I knew when to shut up. Usually.

Shadowheart made no effort to hide her vague irritation at my ramblings, though she did not comment on it.

A soft sigh escaped my chest as I rolled my eyes, “Regardless, we should look for her. She may be injured.”

A very faint huff left her lips, though she seemed nearly amused, “You're more concerned for her than she is for you, clearly. We need to take care of ourselves.” She declared, “Firstly, we need supplies. Shelter. Perhaps most importantly, a healer.”

She spoke with determination, a clear view of what was to come next.

“We might have escaped, but we still have these little monsters in our heads.”

For a split second, I paused. My gut twisted with a sort of hesitance. Internally, I could feel myself pulling back. I guess even despite my intentions to keep my assets close, I still somewhat hoped to deal with this whole debacle on my own. “We?” I asked, masking my discomfort with an idle curiosity, “You intend to stay together?”

She simply nodded, gazing back at me with a sort of expectation. “We need each other, and we both know what's at stake. I can't think of better company.” She mused.

I knew she was right. And perhaps her company wouldn't be so awful, despite my general misanthropy.

“Alright,” I nodded, “let's get moving.”

Holding up a delicate hand, she halted me in place, “One thing, just before we go.” She started. Her voice was softer now, though perhaps there was a very very faint underlying tone of a sort of obligation. “I wanted to thank you again. For freeing me.. It would've been all too easy for you to run right past my pod, but you didn't. I'll remember that.”

Her gaze was unwavering, as well as her tone. Voice smooth and genuine. This was no ploy to gain my trust, but true gratitude.

I met it with a very soft smile, and a nod. “Of course,” I said, “Though you need not thank me. I'll admit, I saved you more for my own benefit than yours.”

She let out a faint chuckle at my honesty and nodded.. “Fair enough. Lead the way.”

A sort of relief washed over me. I didn't feel terribly uncomfortable in her presence, which was new for me. Perhaps she didn't make the greatest of first impressions, but I had to give her the benefit of the doubt, considering our mutual situation.

I navigated my way around the rubble.. glaring through the falling ash as I began to loot the bodies around us in search of supplies and anything else that may have been of use.

As I made my way forward, I noticed the water had changed as I strode upstream a bit. Brackish to fresh water.. Surely, we'd find a settlement nearby.

I knelt at the ruined docks, rifling through the backpack that sat at the edge, left most likely by one of the dead fishermen..

Beneath it sat a book. Leather bound, aged pages.. The smell of river water and old paper lingering on its materials..

‘Shanties of the Bitch Queen’

I didn't need to pick it up. It would only weigh me down over time.. But well, it's only one book. What damage could it really do?

I stuffed it into my pack.. Drow don't sleep anyways, unless persuaded by blunt force or impromptu drugging.. I'll need some reading material.

Shadowheart gave me a questioning glance, but she did not bother to ask. Simply following behind me..

I relished in the silence that befell us. It felt much more comfortable than needless prattle.

Continuing forth, I looted the dead bodies in our wake. Upon one, I found a note.. Nothing of interest, truly. And yet I still read it. A love letter, from a woman named Anna. She was asking the fisherman to run away with her..

I nearly gagged at the sugary words left on the folded paper. It was worn, but not old. The fisherman had read it and reread it over and over again, likely swooning or mulling over his options.

It mattered little now, however.

Despite my frank disrespect to the previous corpses, I decided to leave him with his precious note, along with the rest of his belongings.

I wondered if that's what he had been doing, before the crash. Going to meet Anna in Baldur's Gate..

The thoughts did little for me but to keep my mind occupied, away from any boredom or other distractions that may have crept in.

As I made my way around, I found that the only way forward was to go through the Steaming wreckage..

With a grimace, I made my way forward, alert to any threats that may have been.

Almost immediately, I noticed more of those little brain creatures..

Adorable.

I took a step closer, hoping that perhaps Us hopped among them.. But no. My heart sank a bit as I came to the conclusion that perhaps my squishy friend had perished in the wreck..

It wasn't long before the intellect devourers recognized our arrival near the scene, quickly springing to action..

These creatures were, much to my dismay, not allies.

With a grimace, I jumped back.. I had pause, heart beating quicker as I thought carefully about any possible way I could avoid killing the little creatures.

Regardless of how cute I may have seen them, though, I had to succumb to the inevitable as I dashed to avoid their attacks.

Shadowheart let out a strained grunt as she rose her shield to block a blow from one of the creatures, before swinging her mace back upon its soft and tender flesh

“What are you doing?” She snapped, “Hit the damn things!”

Frustration bubbled within my chest, but I knew she had reason to be irritated with me.

Noticing she was being surrounded, I ran forward.. bringing my left leg around, up, and straight down, driving my heel into the squishy brain-like critter.

It let out a loud, high pitched squeal of pain like nails screeching on a chalkboard as my foot managed to practically shred down the center of it.

Internally, I cringed at the sound. But I couldn't let it hold me back.

Without skipping a beat, I picked up the slimy carcass and threw it, full force, at the remaining intellect devourer.

Shadowheart took advantage of the creature's daze, swiftly shooting fire straight at it to finish the job.

She dropped her mace, bringing her hands together for a moment before fully extending them out as she said the incantation.

“Ignis!” She bellowed.

For a moment, her green eyes glowed a deep, purple tone as the flames shot from her palms.

As expected, the slimy creature fell with another ear-cringing squeal.

We took a moment to regain our breath.

I couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into me.

As a child, I was practiced in empty hand combat. But I was never that good at actually hitting my targets. Particularly not with that amount of instinct and accuracy..

I wondered what had come about in the last few years to cause such an improved technique. Even if I didn't remember further training, it seemed that my body did..

‘Holy shit, that was so badass..’ I thought to myself, though doing my best to maintain a cold and unbothered demeanor.

The cleric narrowed her eyes at me, pointed ears twitching slightly in a vague irritation, “Why did you hesitate?” She asked, taking a breath as she, herself, finally calmed her beating heart.

For a moment, I paused. I wondered if she didn't see what I saw, and how she could ask such a question that I felt was so obvious. Still, I turned to look at her, expression deadpanned. “They're cute,” I insisted, “What do you expect? It's like kicking a puppy.”

Shadowheart was.. Taken aback, to say the least. She made no effort to hide her disgust, wrinkling her nose slightly.

“Not exactly what I would call cute, Wren.” She shot back, “Make sure you don't freeze up like that in the future”

I wanted to come up with some snarky retort or snippy comment. But she was right - I mean, not about the creatures not being cute. For that, I think perhaps she may have hit her head harder than initially thought when she fell from the ship.

Still, I can't afford to hesitate like that when we're being attacked. It could cost us our lives, and I needed to be wary of it.

Regardless, my stubbornness got the better of me, with the help of her (warranted) shitty tone.

Thus, like a literal child, I opted to stick my tongue out at her and stick up my middle finger.

I wasn't particularly rude about it, or at least I hoped it didn't come off that way. It was more of a casual ‘Fuck you.’

She rolled her eyes, wordlessly gesturing for us to keep going on our way.

Tensions were high, and we knew that. There was no point in actually fighting over something so small as an attitude problem.

We carried on with little issue, looting the small area before once again finding ourselves in the sand.

If not for the nautiloid crash, or the startling absence of memories in my skull, perhaps the scenery would've been beautiful. But as sour as I felt, I could find no joy in the glimmering of the sunshine on the crisp, blue waters.

We looted a few crates by the waves, and turned to follow the dirt path uphill..

Upon reaching about halfway up the hill, a voice called out.

An elf, up at the top of the incline, with the complexion of a fucking snowman.

“You there! I need help!” He called out.

His tone was urgent, vaguely panic stricken, but controlled.. and just a smidge pretentious, like some twat nobleman.

Letting out a deep sigh from deep within my chest, I jogged up to meet the man.

I was in no particular hurry, but I figured it best to get it over with..

“Very well. What do you want?” I asked, arching a brow as I approached, Shadowheart following at my heel, though a few paces away still..

He stood in a somewhat crouched, defensive stance, peering off into the shrubbery with his hands readied at his sides.

“Hurry,” he urged. “I've got one of those.. brain things cornered.”

I cocked my head.. sure, he looked a bit like a pretty boy, but I saw no reason he couldn't handle one intellect devourer by himself- He was fully armed, for fucks sake. It's not hard.

Still, I pressed forward, attempting to look into the underbrush, where he was pointing.

The area was obscured with weeds and shrubbery.. tall grass, and a few saplings here and there grew thick at the edge of the short cliff.

“There, in the grass.” He said, “You can kill it, can't you? Like you killed the others.”

This alone was enough to give me pause. This meant he had been watching us, and I didn't know for quite how long since our wake.

I chewed softly at the inside of my cheek, deciding to give the man the benefit of the doubt..

After all, I had Shadowheart behind me, should anything happen.

“Easily,” I said, not bothering to keep the wariness from my voice as I stepped forward, towards the thicket of greenery. “Stand back.”

“There,” he pointed, getting a bit closer behind me as he did his best to show me where the creature was. “Can you see it?”

His voice lowered for a moment.. It was softer, almost mesmerizing. I figured he was just trying to be quieter, so not to startle the creature in the foliage.

I was wrong.

As I leaned over the small cliff, in search of the brain he had spoken about. A few seconds passed, and I could hear a faint rustling in the bushes. Perhaps the elf was being honest, after all. But this feeling of relief was short lived as a young wild boar came barreling out of the bushes, taking off in fear of my advance.

The elf closed in.

In a flash, he had his unexpectedly firm and solid arms around me and a dagger at my throat.

My eyes grew wide, and instinctively, I swept his supporting leg out from beneath him.

This, however, did not help the situation.

Even as we collided with the hard, dirt-covered ground, his grip held unrelentingly. Despite my efforts to escape, I found we had been in the same situation, the only difference being that we were just simply struggling about in the moss now.

I let out a stiff and forced grunt as I fought against his surprisingly strong grip and tried my best to force the dagger away from my throat.

“Shh..” he cooed, “Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.”

His words washed over me like pure silk, sending a fluttering feeling in my stomach. It brought a whole new level of discomfort; Almost lulling me into a sense of calm despite my situation.

“And you-” He snapped out, tone becoming somewhat harsh as he turned to glare at Shadowheart, who stood behind us with her hands up in a somewhat defensive position, ready to draw her weapon should it prove necessary.

“Keep your distance,” He remarked. “No need for this to get messy.”

She met him only with a bitter glare, crossing her arms over her plated chest.

“I need them alive.” She stated, her usually soft voice taking on a sort of forceful tone that reminded me of the attitude she had back on the nautiloid. “Stow that blade, or I'll show you just how messy things can get.”

The pale elf gave out a soft yet sarcastic chuckle, turning his full attention back to me, his annoyingly perfect, stark white hair falling just slightly in his face.

“Promises, promises. But I have other business, I'm afraid.” He mused..

His deep, wine red eyes locked on my own, gaze holding a sort of dominance as a triumphant smirk befell his face. “Now, I saw you on the ship, didn't I? Nod.”

His tone was dark. Commanding. He had me exactly where he wanted me, and it became increasingly obvious that he took a significant measure of pride in it.

My grip tightened around the blade as I tried to force it away from my neck, even still. Allowing it to lightly cut into my skin.. A single drop of my crimson blood trailed down the blade, falling onto my cheek.

I could feel the tips of my pointed ears heating up as he stared down at me, his gaze flickering to the speck of red for a split second- But that mere moment of distraction was all I needed

Despite his effects, I refused to let anyone get the better of me like this. Especially not some pretty boy blue blood with a vitamin D deficiency.

Grinding my teeth, I pushed him as hard as I could while throwing caution to the wind and driving my already aching skull hard against his forehead.

We collided. Hard.

He let out a grunt, putting his hand to his head in pain as we both rolled away from each other.

“Ugh! You wretched little-” His voice came to a higher pitch, a level of almost amusing disgruntlement oozing off of the man in a manner that could've made me laugh if it hadn't been for the pain I was also suffering as consequence of my clever escape.

As he got to his feet, that familiar swirling feeling clouded my brain. The parasite..

In a flash, I was looking through unfamiliar eyes, prowling dark and busy streets.

I did my best to hold the memory, curiosity urging me to see more. But it faded to the worm. The bright lights. The fear that I felt well in my gut, though I knew it was not my own.

The elf felt it, too. Another connection.

He clenched his jaw, sharp eyes widening in a sort of shock and confusion..

“What was that?” He demanded, “What's going on?”

For a second, I wondered if he could see inside my mind as well. I wondered if he could glimpse the same world I saw before being abducted, even if I could not remember it myself. As much as I wanted to know, I pushed it aside. There were more important things to deal with at the moment. Crossing my strong arms over my chest, I glared up at the man, aching a mistrustful brow. “Put the knife away, and I'll tell you everything.”

For a moment, he only broadened his stance, pulling his dagger up so that he was ready to strike, should he need to..

“I'm not an idiot.” He snapped, trying to put it together himself. “It has to be those tentacled monsters. Something they did…”

His voice trailed off, gaze faltering for a moment as he soon saw reason.

“They took you, too. I saw it during.. Whatever just happened,” he admitted, sheathing his blade.

He let out a soft chuckle, tilting his head a bit, “And here I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards,” he mused, gaze analyzing my own battered form for a moment, “Apologies.”

‘I saw it’, was what my brain caught on in the moment. Not only were my suspicions confirmed, but if I asked him, I realized he may be able to give me a clue to my missing past.

Still, as he continued, I couldn't help but to let a wry smile tug at my lips as I peered up at him- I could understand why he took the approach that he did. And even more, I could appreciate his humor.

“Can't blame you,” I said with a shrug, “I was quite looking forward to seeing yours.”

He gave a slightly amused laugh in response, nodding.. “A kindred spirit.. My name's Astarion,” he said, giving the slightest little bow of introduction, “I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts snatched me.”

“You may call me Wren,” I mirrored, “I uh-.. I actually don't know where I was when I was captured.”

For a moment, he placed his hands on his hips, looking me up and down. “A pleasure,” he assured, “So. Do you know anything about these worms?”

With a grimace, I nodded. “Unfortunately, I do. They'll turn us into mind flayers.”

His brows knit tightly together in almost disbelief at first, eyes widening as it fully sunk in. “Turn us into-.. Ahah..”

His face almost looked mournful. With a bitter chuckle, he continued, briefly pressing his fingers to his temples.. “Of course, it'll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect..?” He muttered to himself. Before his deep eyes came aglow with what I could only assume was hope, just the slightest, faintest spark..

“Although.. It hasn't happened yet. If we can find an expert, someone that can control these things, there might still be time.”

I remained silent, allowing the man a moment to process before I continued, peering over my shoulder at Shadowheart for a moment, who stood with a very bored expression as she waited for me to finish up; though she still paid close attention to our conversation.

I had made up my mind already as I turned back to him, tilting my head as my gaze wandered over him once more.

“You should travel with me for the duration,” I said, “Our odds are better together. Clearly, you're quick with a blade, so I doubt you'd prove useless on our quest.”

He seemed almost surprised for a moment, though not unpleasantly so. And for half a second, he almost seemed to ponder it.

I took this very brief second to take note of his posture. Body language, demeanor. Though already taller than I, he held his head in a way that he would have to look down his nose at me, while it was not inherently disrespectful. It was thoughtful. Calculated. He was sizing me up, as any rational person would when deciding whether to follow a complete stranger or not.

“You know, I was ready to go this alone,” he mused as he took a small step forward, “But maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea. And you seem like a useful person to know.” He stated, as though thinking out loud before settling entirely on his answer, “Alright. I accept.” He said, giving a very slight bow of his head in respect. “Lead on.”

As he joined at my side, Shadowheart stepped closer, no longer keeping quite a distance..

My eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than I'd like to admit. And while perhaps a slim part of it was his natural charm and magnetism, I found it joined by much more prominent thoughts. Visions of how he might look covered in blood. How his own might taste on my tongue.. The way I would position his dead body, as though a work of art.

I hid my thoughts well. There was no daze, nor excessive staring, no pause of any sort. I didn't know whether this was because I was naturally inexpressive unless I forced a display of emotion, or because I was simply used to such thoughts by now. Perhaps it was even how I had to train my face in my youth not to give off any ill-accepted emotions, for fear of the yelling that would follow. Whatever the reason, I was certainly thankful for it.

While I would've loved to relish in the thoughts a mere moment longer, I forced it to a screeching halt as I turned to face Astarion.

Before even letting me speak, he arched a brow in surprise, as he was expecting us to simply continue on our way.. He gazed down at me with a somewhat amused smirk, “You have a manner of irresistible desperation about you,” he teased.

I opened my mouth to protest, a look of offense dawning my typically blank face- but he didn't allow me a word before finishing his thought. “I like it.”

With a scoff, my eyes narrowed into a glare as I stared up at him. “I merely wanted to ask a bit about you,” I spat. “Peace of mind, considering you nearly slit my throat.” I reminded him.

“Heh.. And what a shame that would've been.” He remarked, almost sarcastically though his tone remained playful and lighthearted.

Letting out a breath, Astarion turned to a more serious - though bored -demeanor. “Ah.. What's to tell, really? I'm a magistrate back in the city. It's all rather tedious,” he explained with a shrug.

I didn't know how much I believed that, if I'm being honest. I did not know what reason he may have to lie to me, but there was something about the man that just seemed somewhat.. Off to me.

Despite this, I had known my gut to be wrong before. Rarely, though it was. Everything gave me an uneasy feeling - a distrust.

I wrote it off as a natural skepticism, not bothering to pry any deeper.

Still, I nodded; giving the man another cursory glance before joining back beside Shadowheart.

I took note of Astarions blade, and the clothes he wore.. The dagger was sharp, though poor quality, and provided him with little range.. His garb, however, was of a much higher refinement. Thick leather, stitched to uphold the standards of the ostentatious finery one would find in noble households, and dyed luxuriously vibrant purple and fuschia. The velvet accents along the chest were embellished with golden embroidery, though if you looked just close enough; you could tell that the stitching on the design patterns were coming loose and slowly unraveling.

The shirt beneath his leathers had a very refined, ruffled white collar with accents of a striking red- which clashed with the rest of his ensemble.

I would've loved to say it suited him, but it didn't. In all honesty, it seemed to be lacking in perhaps one of the most expected qualities one would find in noble garments.

Style.

Perhaps I was biased, though. I didn't particularly care for such colour pallets, and it did little to compliment the most striking part of his distinguished face; His deep and wine red eyes.

Turning to our cleric, I pulled her aside. “Have you picked up any decent blades?” I asked, kneeling before her as I sat down my pack and began to search through it.

She chuckled, tilting her head a bit as she simply watched. “Not really. You've been quick to disarm nearly every cadaver we've come across thus far.” Her comment bore a sort of amusement, rather than any kind of irritation that her wording may have implied.

I merely nodded, not bothering to look back up at her as my eyes were fixed on the various weaponry I had nicked off of the corpses in question.

“Astarion’s an interesting find,” she mused, “Let's hope any future acquaintances don't hold a blade to your throat by way of introduction.”

I found amusement in her statement, chucking slightly as my eyes finally settled on a single blade. A long and slender rapier.

I hadn't the faintest idea as to how to use the weapon adequately in battle. But I had a feeling the pale elf would..

Peering back up at Shadowheart, I cracked half a crooked smile. “I don't know. That approach certainly makes an impression,” I told her.

She rolled her eyes, laughing quietly as she looked off, into the trees up ahead and the forked path we faced. “Just don't tell him that. I doubt he needs the encouragement.”

“You may be right,” I shrugged, pulling the blade out before latching my black, leather satchel shut once again. I eyed the uneven stitching for a moment, a fond memory rolling over my mind. Perhaps one of the most recent memories I could bring forth, though it happened years ago now.

I could remember my brother teaching me how to stitch thick and sturdy leather, without ruining it.. He was the only one who supported my decision to leave the underdark. I wondered how he was doing. If he remained with my family-.. Of course he did. He'd never abandon them. Not like I did.

I felt a twinge of stale, bitter disappointment in myself. I knew the environment I left them in, and still I did not stay.

It mattered little now, though. They were safer without me there and I knew it. And I had other matters to attend.

I rose to my feet, pushing the clouded memories from my mind as I turned back to Astarion, who watched my exchange with Shadowheart closely, though he could not make out our words.

A smile still dawned his face, though there was caution in his eyes. I couldn't blame him.

“Take this,” I instructed him, holding the rapier by the blade just an inch or so below the guard as I held it out to him.

For just a second, his gaze faltered. Flitting down to the weapon with just slightly widened eyes, before taking the handle.

I released the blade into his grasp, blank eyes looking back into his own as I gave him a nod, “It should aid you better than that old dagger.” I commented. “You can't be useful if you're dead.”

He clicked his tongue quietly against his pointed teeth, smirk broadening slightly as he peered back at me. “Hm.. I do suppose you're right.” He chuckled, maintaining his eye contact. His gaze almost seemed to bore into my own, as though he were staring at my very soul.

A sort of heat rose in my throat, though I chalked it up to the smoke from the nearby wreckage. In spite of this, the air was clear where we stood.

The man had an air of mystery about him, and I doubted his little dagger trick would be the last we saw of it.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 durge #astarion #dark urge #baldurs gate tav #gale dekarios #lae'zel #fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #a03 fanfic #fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #karlach #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #bg3 withers #don't ask me about chapter one

0 notes

fifty-first-worstidea · 5 years ago

Photo

Bonus redraw of a "Mangle-like Generations" drawing I did four months ago. I think I've improved since then

#My art #I'm eventually gonna fuck this up with a pen but why not post it #Mangle's still nonbinary to me #Funtime Foxy is genderfluid #Change my mind

0 notes

fagbearentertainment · 2 years ago

Note

im sorry to bring fnaf discourse to the table you can completely dismiss this but as someone who still has a fondness for the series, him donating to alt right figures isnt the only thing that is the issue w him and fnaf. his depictions of chica are fatphobic as well as a lot of the feminine characters including chica are bordering misogynistic, as well as it never sat right with me that mangle's gender was played off as a joke but that's just a personal thing bc a lot of the nonbinary community loves mangle. theres obviously a lot more wrong w all of this, this is just off the top of the head stuff but cawth*n has never been the best guy even before the whole alt right donation thing. you dont have to defend this man, he is well off enough monetarily and also a conservative christian white man.

Yeah Scott is just a really shitty person, which sucks bc him and fnaf were huge inspirations for me growing up

this’ll probably be the last Scott related ask I answer so just so everyone knows if you come in my askbox or notes defending him I will block you, i know I post fnaf here sometimes but he’s not a good guy end of story

#askswag

29 notes · View notes

will-o-the-witch · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! Now that the conversation has started, what do you think of gendered spiritual energies in general (divine feminine, masculine)? As a very enby and Queer(TM) person it kind of makes me feel uncomfortable and also confused since the definition of the energies also sounds very heteronormative. I've heard of additions to this system like divine androgyne and chaosyne but.. I don't know, it still feels very weird to me either way

Oooh so this has actually been on my mind lately!

I think the idea of divine genders is a really interesting concept that just got mangled by historical biases, but I do think there's a way to salvage it.

I think trans and nonbinary people really help us understand what gender is on a deeper level. There is something that makes people understand and feel what their gender is, what it isn't, what feels right and what doesn't. It can be rock solid from birth, or very fluid, or some kind of mix. This gut feeling, whatever it means to us individually, is present in people of all genders and exists beyond preconceived notions of gender roles, presentation, etc. and I think that's really interesting. (That's how I percieve/define the experience of gender, anyway.) Also like it or not our experience of gender plays a big role in our lives and how we navigate society, and I think it's fine to want to have a relationship with the Divine that recognizes it if it's important to you.

The problem comes in when we try to make it binary or assign inherent personality traits and body parts to it. Some deities just don't fit a solid gender binary (Loki, Mokosh, and even HaShem come to mind right away) and we should be open to as many nuances in Divine Gender as there are in everyday human gender. Even within deities we typically don't consider genderqueer, each one gives nuance into what gender could possibly mean. There's so much potential here to find a deity or spiritual figure that captures what your gender (or lack thereof) means to you and explore that. I think that's really cool.

So yeah. I think with a lot of dedication to really explore it an apply it in a much more fluid, less binary, more personal, more open way (and not trying to slap it onto every other concept/object/person in the world) then it can be a really interesting and possibly even empowering thing for trans/genderqueer people especially. We just need to stop imagining/talking about it the same way the cishetties do lol

77 notes · View notes

showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years ago

Text

Superheroes More Like Stupidheroes Am I Right (Please Don't Kill Me)

Was having your shrinking suit damaged to the point of being unable to regrow ideal? Not really. Was being cornered by a criminal who wants you dead going to end well? Probably not. But at least they weren't also being hunted down by a notoriously dangerous supervillain!

...well, about that-

[AO3 Link]

A/N: YES I am still simping over one (1) very specific scene in the new Batman movie I saw last week and YES I wrote a 14K fic based on those 17 seconds and NO I will never touch these characters or this universe again.

As a heads up, Jamie/Nano is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns (:

Well, this had very expectedly gone to shit.

Crime never sleeps, justice has a watchful eye, blah blah blah, Jamie wished life would just cut them a break already. One day off, just a few hours of peace, that’s all they were asking for. Between balancing their vigilantism and chipping away at their upcoming thesis proposal, Jamie was looking forward to a quiet night indoors with some trashy reality shows curled up on the couch. They had barely finished two episodes of the newest god awful dating competition when a breaking news alert interrupted which loser was being sent home in favor of warning citizens of a police pursuit downtown. The problem was that police weren’t even able to keep up with said pursuit judging by the live helicopter footage that accompanied the broadcaster’s announcement. The driver was zipping and zagging erratically, launching up exit ramps and slamming other cars out of the way to create massive pile ups.

Great. Just because Jamie didn’t have anything better to do at this moment didn’t mean they wanted something to do. How tempting it was to flip the channels and pretend they didn’t see the flaming path of destruction left behind. They weren’t the only hero in this city, after all, someone else could go and clean up the mess of mangled cars while bringing the criminal to justice. Although…reports just updated that the driver was last seen just outside Jamie’s neighborhood according to incoming emergency calls. At least three people were already declared dead in the carnage, who knows how many more severely injured. The total count of both would only increase while the maniac was still behind the wheel.

God damn it, fine.

A click of a hidden switch, a suit up, and a GPS calibration later they were roaring down the streets on their motorbike to follow the path of destruction. Quiet, homebody Jamie had been left behind so that the charismatic superhero dubbed Nano could take their place and restore this city to tranquility. Or, well, as tranquil as it could get. It wasn’t voted the tenth most dangerous city in the nation for nothing. They could at least wrangle in most of the destructive forces so that local police wouldn’t be as overwhelmed. Ironic, wasn’t it, that the hero whose main quirk was being able to shrink to various sizes was the one handling the big guns. Just those criminals and villains wait until they figured out how to reverse the polarization of their hand-me-down technology to be able to grow larger than their natural size as well. They hadn’t fully mastered how all the components worked (their late uncle didn’t leave any handy instruction manuals behind), but if the suit could grow them back to their original height after shrinking then surely there had to be a way to make it keep going.

A size shifting hero, able to sneak in through an inch wide pipe just to scoop up all the baddies in one hand to drop in a jail cell. That would certainly make Jamie’s life a hell of a lot easier. Probably save a decent chunk of change on gas if they could be anywhere in two steps, too. Regardless, they were getting ahead of themself, they needed to focus on the issue at hand before they started fantasizing about how much faster this could potentially end if they were about fifty feet taller.

Jamie must be getting closer to the suspect because the collection of crashed vehicles lessened the more they weaved through the wreckage. Pile ups were becoming less frequent in their travel, meaning the driver hadn’t been running anyone else off the road for some time. Fortunately, most people must have heard the news of the crazed driver on the freeway and had vacated the roads to the best of their abilities, leaving a clear path right to them. Cars still swerved and skidded ahead from what they could see thanks to the advanced inner screen of their helmet. The computer kept track of every traffic report the second it was entered, AGI scanning the area in real time to suggest the best routes to avoid the most accidents. Jamie revved their bike to increase their speed, dodging between cars and riding the shoulder as they steadily gained on the banged up car ahead. It was a nice car, too nice to belong anywhere near the slums.

This was appearing less like an impaired driver and more like a common crook making a bad getaway. The car was clearly high end, no visible logos and a sleek black color, which upped them from being a basic lackey to someone probably associated with one of the many mob organizations that plagued this city. Strange, those were the types of people who rarely got their hands dirty in the public eye like this. The whole point of their shady business being metaphorically underground was so that people, including law enforcement, couldn’t get a glimpse at their nasty deeds. Yet here this fool was making a spectacle of themself on all the major highways and being tracked by news crews. A newbie, maybe, but there’s no way they would have been promoted to such an expensive car if they were this incompetent. The driver had to be fleeing from something big if they were more willing to deal with police and witnesses than whatever was chasing behind. Looks like Nano scored themself a two for one deal tonight.

The car swerved to go around a slower driver up ahead before cutting them off, causing them to brake hard right in front of Nano. They narrowly avoided clipping the left taillight, squeezing between the car and a grey sedan that was riding in the opposite lane. If only there was a way to connect the technology stored in the helmet to the custom motorbike in order to make their ride shrink with them. That would be so cool! And, you know, a great benefit to dart between tight fits in future similar situations. The shrinking tech was able to transmit its hidden powers to the suit in order to fully shrink them, surely there was something in the code to make it do the same to other things? Why else have a custom bike to go along with a custom suit and custom helmet if they couldn’t be linked together. Nano hadn’t been blessed (or cursed, depending on who you asked) with natural powers like most heroes had, instead relying on wit and creations secretly left behind to them from their eccentric Uncle Julio. God rest his soul, the crazy bastard.

Passing a pickup truck right before it spun out as a result of the criminal ramming it out of the way, Nano was able to ride right up to the driver side window and get a good look at who they were dealing with. The man didn’t pay him any mind from the shattered window, too busy screaming at other cars ahead to get the hell out of his way while blaring the car horn as their only warning to pass or crash. He was nicely dressed but utterly drenched in sweat, making his fat bald head glisten as spittle flew with each curse he threw. The helmet scanned his features and pulled up the profile of one mister Nigel Remmington, AKA ‘Sandy’, a well known mobster who was fairly infamous in the debt collection scene. His nickname originated from his signature disposal of burying late payers up to their necks down by the shore and letting the tide do the rest. Something about drowning in debt, or whatever. A clever play of words, but still totally fucked up.

“You got a license and registration, sir?” Nano called out, finally grabbing the man’s attention from the road. He sneered at the young hero.

“Stay out of it!” he warned. “I don’t have time to deal with your shit!”

Did any of the criminals ever have time to deal with their motormouth shenanigans? No. Did it ever stop from them antagonizing whoever they were dealing with with goading quips? Absolutely not. That was one of the best parts of the job! “No? How about the San Aires police department?”

They could see Sandy jerk the steering towards them in an effort to slam the car into the bike, clutching the handlebar brakes to drop the bike several feet behind the car as it skidded two lanes over. Nano sped up again, now on the passenger side and seeing the mobster searching for them in the rearview mirror.

“I don’t think insurance is g-”

The mobster rolled down the tinted window.

“I don’t think insurance is gonna cover road rage,” Nano repeated.

A vein throbbed on the temple of Sandy’s red forehead. “You don’t know what you’re fucking dealing with, kid!”

“Sure I do!” They skirted around a white car that tried to pass into another lane. “I’m dealing with a guy who’s a little too old to be playing bumper cars.”

A snarky rebuttal was on the tip of the man’s tongue when he laid into his car horn again when two semis of similar speed blocked his lane and the one next to it. There was really no need to continue to swear at them to move so that he could get by, seeing as neither driver could hear the awful words he said, but it was funny to watch his jowls shake while his fat neck tried to pop his collar. “I won’t be a dead man because of you shitheads!” he shrieked at one point. The trucks had yet to part the way for him, not that there was much they could do short of ramming cars off the road themselves. The lack of compliance to Sandy’s obvious hurry only further enraged him.

“Late for a meeting? I can get you a police escort,” Nano’s jokes were falling on deaf ears now which wasn’t as amusing. Very rarely were there any villains that shot back equally witty remarks, so any form of irritation they got had to do. “Look, Sandy, we both know how this is going to end.”

Bloodshot eyes snapped over to the hero, crazed with agitation. “Yeah, with you as a smear on the pavement!” The mobster yanked the car in Nano’s direction again, forcing them to pull the handles in the same direction to compensate for not being hit. Straight ahead was a rapidly approaching guard rail and Nano didn’t have time to react, skimming the metal barrier with their front tire as they took the exit ramp down to the feeder road. Shit. The oncoming ramp was only a street light away, but that was still ample time for Sandy to get a lead on him and send more drivers spiraling. With practiced ease, they ran their motorbike through the red light while thankful they weren’t immediately T-boned. Alright, back to the problem at hand.

Soaring up the oncoming ramp, the motorbike skipped a few times from the short amount of air it had gotten. Luckily, Sandy was only a few cars ahead and hadn’t crashed into any of them to cause another pile up that would impede the hero. Nano once again approached the driver’s window and tapped against the door handle to grab his attention. “You know, that wasn’t very nice.”

Sandy responded by swinging open his car door to slam right into the bike, sending Nano sailing off it. The second they were airborne, they activated their shrinking tech to size them down to mere inches and soar through the air right into the open back window of a transport van. As soon as they were in the vehicle, they resized to slam against the interior seats and started the shit out of the poor driver. Their back ached from the impact, but it was a hell of a lot better than splattering on the road. To the driver’s credit, the older woman hardly jerked the wheel in surprise at her new occupant. Nano wondered if she’d been subjected to this kind of tomfoolery before. Though she wouldn’t be able to see through their visor, they still gave a sheepish smile and a small wave at her from the rearview mirror.

“Sorry, ma’am,” they apologized, wriggling up from where they were wedged between the seats on the ground to look out the window. Their bike still automatically rode right beside the van like a faithful companion, even if it was going to need a few scratches buffed out later. Man, Uncle Julio really thought of everything. A warning beeped in their helmet to alert them that the motorbike was riding unoccupied in unsafe conditions and may be compromised. Thankfully, its own GPS tracker was synced with Nano’s helmet to stay alongside them so long as they had the vehicle running. It would even be activated and called when Nano was several miles away and in need of a ride. And people said Firewall had the coolest tech out of all the local heroes, no way. Bracing their hands on the window ledge, Nano flung themself out while simultaneously shrinking to avoid smacking against the doorframe. Once they were in position, they returned to their normal size and landed perfectly on the motorbike, only a slight wobble to balance out the sudden flying weight.

Back to our regularly scheduled program.

By the time they had caught back up with Sandy, his beet red face had paled into something sickly. He almost looked like the marshmallow monster from that one ghost movie with how white his round, squishy head had drained. Something must have spooked him, and it probably wasn’t Nano.

“What is your problem, man?” Nano asked. “I thought you liked to fix things by burying them in the ocean?”

Sandy glanced at them, relief washing over their sweaty features for just a split second upon realizing they weren’t…someone else. “I told you, you don’t know what you’re dealing with!”

Nano was beginning to get the impression that they might not be tailing the biggest fish in the sea right now. Something bigger and scary must be lurking in these waters if it was enough to send a man like Sandy running. “So tell me. Let me help!”

He barked out a laugh. “You can help by getting the fuck out of my way.”

“You-”

An explosion behind derailed both of their trains of thought. The ounce of confidence Sandy held just moments ago melted into pure terror on his flabby features. He didn’t turn around to see the explosion, didn’t even spare it a glance in the mirror, while Nano tried to scan behind them to figure out what the fuck any of that was. A pile up had formed behind them a few miles back, the cars now scattered and engulfed in flames while black smoke billowed over the freeway. That was no ordinary gasoline explosion judging by how some of the cars had been pushed forward with accompanying burn marks on the road, arcing in a neat hemisphere. It had been a concentrated explosion, man made. But by who…?

“Damn, damn, damn,” Sandy muttered to himself. The fear on his face twisted to become unhinged paranoia, rapidly slamming his fist on the steering wheel. “Son of a bitch! Fucking–why won’t he give up?!”

The sudden understanding of who ‘he’ was came just seconds after a car appeared out of the thicket of smoke, its angled front shoving the burnt husk of vehicles out of its way so it could continue on its warpath behind the mobster. The car was as iconic as its driver hidden inside, the blast of energy that decimated the impromptu barrier a dead giveaway. What the hell is a top tier supervillain like Negasonic doing going after some chump who’s a bottom feeder at best on the hierarchy of evil? Well, they had one half of that equation to the left of them, might as well find out.

“Negasonic? You have fucking Negasonic going after you?” Nano shook their head. “You’re a dead man walking, dude.”

“You think I don’t know that!?” Sandy snapped. “I didn’t know he knew that girl! I wouldn’t have touched her!” Knowing this grease ball, he had gotten handsy one way or another with some nameless woman, potentially a love interest or an informant. Whether or not she had been choked out by seafoam or his grubby hands was up for debate. Either way, it was someone important to the supervillain, and he clearly wasn’t pleased with the outcome. “That stupid bitch…!”

Yeah, this guy was totally screwed. Like many heroes, Nano prided themself on their strict no-kill policy which extended to all criminals, no matter how big or small. Heroes could not be judge, jury, or executioner in this world, that would have to remain in the courts. From the courts, victims could receive their justice as the villains were locked up or sent for rehabilitation. That didn’t stop, like, sixty percent of the bigger baddies from escaping every few months to return to their destructive ways, though. There had to be a better way to handle these guys, all things considered. Maybe Nano should bring that up to the league next time they’re in town…regardless, there was no way in hell someone like Nano could defeat Negasonic single-handedly. At best, they could incapacitate him long enough to shrink down for a hidden getaway, but that wouldn’t help out Sandy in the slightest.

To be honest, did Sandy really deserve being saved? Just look at all the damage he’d caused in his poorly planned escape thus far, not to mention his laundry list of crimes he had committed prior. Wouldn’t it be so much easier to let the trash take out itself? Of course it would, but once again, that wasn’t up for Nano to decide. Murder was still murder, even if it was a supervillain aiming to blow another criminal skyhigh. It was wrong to admonish one and praise the other, especially when the villain was only doing this for his own gain rather than out of the goodness of his heart. Nano wasn’t even sure the guy had a heart, always so cold and indifferent the few handfuls of times they’d cross paths. Granted, Negasonic could level this entire city in a heartbeat if he ever felt the whim to do so if he charged his sonic blast abilities with heaps of kinetic energy. And yet, he didn’t, his reasoning being that if he did so then there would be nothing left for him to do here.

The man was genuinely one of the most terrifying villains they’ve had the displeasure of meeting.

On the bright side, rarely did Nano have to deal with such a powerful man. Higher tier villains liked to keep their business in bigger, busier cities in order to expand. Outskirts like these were more of disposal grounds than anything, a place to test out prototype drugs and weapons before unleashing them on a larger population. There were also less important heroes patrolling said areas as well. Just run of the mill kids like Nano that were a dime a dozen and whacked off within a month. Not Nano, though. They would be different. They would make a difference, and that was going to start by getting Sandy out of whatever hot water he’d gotten himself in with the likes of Negasonic so that he’d be able to stand trial for his dastardly deeds. Would they be able to take down the supervillain even as an unlikely duo, no freaking way. But maybe if they worked together, neither of them would be blown into a mist of red by one of his energy blasts.

“Okay,” Nano said, making Sandy flinch at the sudden sound between the purr of engines. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to distract him, and you’re going to take the third exit to Cypress Preak, down to the boondocks.”

Sandy gave an incredulous laugh. “You? Distract him? He doesn’t give two shits about you!”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna make him. So follow my plan-!”

“Fuck your plan! Like I’m listening to some kid playing superhero!” The menacing car roared behind them with a haze of ultraviolet flames sputtering from the engine vents, rapidly gaining on them. One of the semis from earlier foolishly stayed in the middle lane after the mobster sped past it, providing a blockade from direct access to Negasonic’s target. A high pitched whir was the only warning anyone received before a flash of purple light engulfed the trailer, imploding the contents within which then in turn blew out from the sides as fiery shrapnel. The truck’s cabin was soon covered in flames as well, creating a secondary fireball as soon as the gas canister was ignited. The remnants of the trailer fishtailed, causing the truck to skid out of control due to the (hopefully) deceased driver being unable to man it. The suped up car passed the wreckage, leaving it to coast across all the lanes before tipping with another boom upon impact, cutting off any more incoming traffic. Including incoming help.

“You’re running out of options,” Nano warned now that Negasonic had free reign of the road to close the distance. “Just let me help!”

Too late. When it came to most criminals’ sense of fight or flight, they had a strange combination of the two which led to their downfall much quicker than if they had chosen one or the other. Sandy was too prideful to accept any sort of help from the hero, even if it was to escape the wrath of a man who would most certainly ensure his death. As far as Sandy was concerned, Nano was a distraction that was only worsening his chance of survival by constantly getting in his way. Besides, Sandy was bound to get arrested by the end of whatever on the fly plan Nano would have conceived which wouldn’t be ideal for business. Very much less so if it meant the mobster was to be locked behind bars in an enclosed cell while Negasonic was still on the hunt for him, like a caged hen waiting for the fox to waltz on into the coop.

This time, Nano wasn’t able to entirely dodge Sandy’s swerve at them. Their front wheels clipped, and given that the motorbike’s front wheel was the one connected to the handles, they found themself forced to change direction not of their own accord. Immediately, they pumped the brakes to fall back and avoid over correcting straight into a barrier, though the new angle of their steering meant they unintentionally moved to be directly behind the car. Not ideal, but really could have been wor-

Oh, look. It just got worse. Really worse. Really fucking worse as Nano was almost launched over their handlebars by the impact of being rear ended. The engine revved lowly, heat bristling their back through the suit. Negasonic must have been coming in to ram the back of Sandy’s car in an effort to run him off the road before Nano’s bike squeaked in between them at the last second, sandwiching the vehicle between the two speeding cars. Great, now Nano was going to be on Negasonic’s shitlist for the night, too. Nano would have tried to ease the tension with a really funny joke, but they doubted the supervillain would have been able to hear it anyway. Or cared.

Negasonic’s car lurched forward again to further wedge the bike into the back of the mobster’s truck, though they noticed the supervillain’s car hadn’t taken any damage despite the motorbike being tangled in its grill. Nano wondered if perhaps the vehicle was equipped with similar kinetic power as its driver was, able to absorb multiple impacts to build up a force behind the explosion it could then fire off. God, that would be so cool if they weren’t about to be on the receiving end of one of those blasts.

Though it deeply pained them to do so, Nano had to abandon their beloved bike as it continued to be crushed between the two cars, leaping onto the dented trunk. They could see through the back windshield that Sandy was desperately shaking the steering wheel side to side in an attempt to shake his pursuer, but the bike between the two cars kept them locked in place like a train couplet. At least it prevented Negasonic from getting those final few feet closer, though Nano doubted it would hold for very long. Warnings flittered all across their internal visor to inform them the motorbike was taking severe damage and may become unrideable, as if they weren’t watching the poor bike be crumpled before their very eyes. Uncle Julio had to be rolling in his grave over how badly they wrecked such an advanced bike in a matter of months. If they were lucky, maybe the schematics were stashed away somewhere in the old coot’s lab and Nano could repair it to some extent.

For now, they had to bid farewell to their totally kickass motorbike in favor of climbing further up the car roof, careful not to slide off at over a hundred miles an hour to splatter like a bug on the supervillain’s windshield. Actually, that would be a pretty fitting end if they shrunk down right before hitting the glass. A funny idea they stored away for later when they would undoubtedly have to sacrifice themself in a heroic death down the line. The car vibrated under them, a combination of the mobster’s engine overexerting itself to stay ahead and Sandy trying to get out of the deadlock. Nano grabbed hold of the top of the open driver’s side window and flung themself within, shrinking as they did so to zip past the mobster like a colorful gnat and expanded once they cleared the console to land on the passenger seat. At least, that’s what they were aiming for when Negasonic rammed into the car again, further crushing the bike and causing the whole vehicle to shake. The unexpected momentum caused Nano to nearly go flying right back out of the car via the passenger window, smacking the head on the velvet roof and slipping halfway down the seat.

“Still not the worst Uber I’ve taken…” Nano mumbled, scooching up to properly sit on the seat. They debated putting on the seatbelt for a moment before deciding that would surely be more detrimental in this case. Nano gingerly rubbed the bump on their aching shoulder and winced while it throbbed under their fingertips. As long as it wasn’t dislocated, they’d be fine until Negasonic got his amped up hands on them.

Sandy’s look of sheer befuddlement was almost as rewarding as getting out of this mess alive. The man was about to blow a gasket, already tiptoeing the edge of a full mental breakdown and here Nano was to give him the final shove. He sputtered, looking between the rearview mirror, to the hero, to the road ahead, round head bobbing like an excited chicken as he tried to determine what was the most important thing to focus on.

“Wh-you-get the hell out of my car!” Sandy finally yelled, anger returning full force.

Nano wished the visor didn’t black out their face so the mobster could see the irritatingly cheeky smile they were giving him. “Sure, wherever you want to drop me off.”

“The fuck is wrong with you?!” Sandy screamed. He jerked the steering wheel left and right so hard that the hero thought it might snap off in the midst of his rage. “Do you want to get us both killed?!”

“No, that’s why I’m trying to help you, you douche,” Well, if Nano was going to get insults constantly thrown at them, they should be allowed to dish it back a little.

The man snarled at him. “I don’t need your help! I need you to leave me the hell alone!”

“Listen, just take this exit-”

“I’m not taking your fucking ex-”

“The boonies should be o-”

“You wanna get me cornered in the damn boo-”

“But if we get the police t-”

“There’s not going to be any fucking cops, you he-”

In all honesty, Nano’s plan had been half baked at best, but Christ alive did they wish this idiot would let them get two words in edgewise to plead their case. Instead they were yelling over top of each other, Sandy going as far as to relinquish one sweaty hand off the steering wheel to shove at their face to push them away. There was no way he’d be able to heft them out the open window with one arm, but it was still annoying having the appendage slap their helmet.

“Get out, get out!” Sandy screeched.

In a way, they both got what they wanted from the other. Negasonic whipped his car sharply to the side, easily breaking free from the crumpled remains of the motorbike. As a result, Sandy’s car was forced to jackknife while the wreckage still connected them, sending him skidding at an almost ninety degree angle and slamming into the guardrail down the exit ramp. Nano was very much regretting not wearing their seatbelt now while they were thrown about, thankful their helmet prevented them from any head trauma they might have received otherwise. Sandy tried to regain control of the vehicle, but the damage to the axles was making it difficult to properly turn which then caused him to continually overcorrect, wildly swerving between the feeder lanes. Just as Nano predicted, the boondocks were empty, including the back roads leading into it, meaning there were very little obstacles they had to worry about crashing into. See, this plan was working out great after all.

Or, it was, until the car started to spin out on the slick concrete that was not made for vehicles to race in the triple digits. There was very little either of them could do as soon as Sandy clipped a curb, sending the car flipping through the air in a calisma of broken glass and squealing metal. Nano felt like they were flying, but it was only a matter of time before they came crashing down within the confines of the car to liquify all of their internal organs. They weren’t gifted with bulletproof skin or super healing; a crash of this caliber could very easily blend Nano to bits. The best they could do was shrink, and that’s exactly what they did. The constant motion of the car kept their miniature body airborne to avoid colliding with anything too solid like the dashboard, though Nano was still flung about. They regrew a few extra inches to grab hold of the headrest on the passenger seat to keep steady on something plush, only to lose their grip when the car collided with the ground.

They were launched upwards straight through the driver’s window, momentum carrying them to follow the car’s rolling path and sending them right back inside when the passenger window was in view. Again, they enlarged themself another few inches just before colliding with Sandy’s mercifully obese gut to soften the impact, no doubt winding the man that was already battered and bruised. The car finally ceased its rolling to slide upside down on the caved-in roof for a few yards, only stopping with a gentle tap against the side of a loading dock. Gasoline and other car fluids trickled down between the bent plates of metal, pooling in a metallic rainbow around them outside. Sandy coughed, blood running from his nose and a nasty gash across his eyebrow, likely from slamming face first into the steering wheel. He was alive, though, and conscious, as was Nano for the most part.

But fucking shit did everything hurt. Nano could hardly get their bearings, physically and mentally. Their head spun, dizzy and unfocused as they tried to piece together the events that took place in a mere matter of seconds. At some point, they grew again to half of their original size, probably to keep from bouncing between the now deflating airbags. They could taste blood in their mouth and their chest stung with every breath. That…wasn’t good. They could still move, still drag their body which screamed in agony towards the window to make it outside, so at least there was that. Before they were even in the open, they rapidly shrunk and grew three times at different scales. Warnings glitched and fizzled on the cracked screen of the visor, alerting them to substantial damage to their growth technology. That definitely wasn’t good. The technology was too unstable for Nano to control at the moment, flickering between sizes. Once more, they shrunk down without any say to about three or four inches in height before the internal AGI started shutting down nonessential functions.

Nano tumbled out of the window to fall into a very unheroic heap on the wet concrete, their muscles searing and stomach twisting even as they lay stationery. They fucked up big time. They should have left this alone. They should have let someone else handle this mess, be it another hero or just let Negasonic do as he planned. Now they were injured, bikeless, and stuck at such a stupidly tiny stature until another errant glitch returned them to their normal height. Or close enough to it, at least. How were they even supposed to begin making the repairs needed for the helmet? Uncle Julio took those secrets to his grave as far as they knew. Tonight really sucked.

A pained gasp was all they could muster when they suddenly felt themself become constricted on all sides, trembling limbs squeezed against a horribly bruised chest. It was like all the air had been squashed out of Nano’s lungs, unable to refill them once they were forced to go up, up, up. Their stomach flipped at the sensation, threatening to heave their dinner if they didn’t stop moving right this second. When they did finally stop their ascension, however, the hero couldn’t help but grimace at the unkempt sight before them. Sandy, his fat head somehow even larger, gripped them in a disgustingly damp, meaty hand. He looked just as banged up as Nano after the crash, face bloody and swollen in some areas while his suit was in complete disarray. The mobster looked downright homicidal but, then again, that was usually the normal state for criminals like him. It was just unfortunate all that rage was directed solely on Nano who was praying for their shrinking technology to bug out and zap them to a big enough size that they could break out of the hold.

“You…” Sandy snarled, hot breath reeking of cigars washing over them. Nano really didn’t think this man could get any more vile, but being up close and personal with every pore proved him wrong. “This is your fault.”

Nano sputtered, wanting to ask how exactly any of this was their fault when they weren’t the criminal who ‘fucked around and found out’ with one of the most dangerous supervillains this side of the country. The thick fingers clasping their entire body prevented them from managing anything more than a grunt, though, tightening further. This was it, then, the end of the legacy. Snuffed out by some two-bit gangster after trashing their uncle’s entire life work in less than an hour. Uncle Julio was going to smack them upside the head before Nano even made it through the pearly gates. They grit their teeth, waiting for the incoming torture that came from having their bones ground together and their eyes popped from their sockets.

Oh, but they should have known better than to assume the man renowned for drowning people in the tide would give them a remotely dignified death. You don’t bury people up to their neck so they can helplessly watch their demise wash closer ashore if you don’t want a show. Two fat fingers pinched on either side of Nano’s helmet, more warnings flashing on the visor that pressure was being applied to the cracked outer cover, internal components may be damaged, please repair vent quadrant one, please repair, malfunction, damage detected at, damage at fifty-seven percent, error, errOr, ERror–

The carbon material snapped and squeaked as it was twisted to the side, broken from the electronic collar attached to their suit to sync the two components together. It was yanked up, nearly taking Nano’s head with it, the last thing they saw was the screen fizzling away now that all the computers were offline from heavy damage. For a brief moment, Nano felt a strange disconnect in being able to see their battered helmet held in front of them, not quite registering the fact that they had been unmasked. But it wasn’t the fact that their secret identity had been revealed to a violent criminal that made a cold fear wash over them, after all, they were just some nameless kid in the city. It was the fact that Uncle Julio’s specialized patented matter resizing technology was neatly packed within the suits helmet, the only thing that could control how they shrunk or grew and that they knew next to nothing about. Nano needed that helmet to return to their original height, without the foreign technology they would never be able to reverse the effect!

And it seemed indeed they never would when Sandy flattened the helmet between his fingers like tinfoil.

Nano could only stare wide eyed in shock, even when the ruined technology was carelessly dropped to the ground. So, that was that. They had zero hope in ever being able to switch back to their normal size. If by some miracle the hero could get home with the mangled remains of their uniform, it wouldn’t matter. They weren’t some tech savvy super genius who majored in STEM by the age of four, Nano was lucky to be a B average student in college. Though, they supposed in the end this would hardly matter at all. The wicked grin bearing down on them told enough that Sandy was only interested in humiliating them in their final moments, wanting to savor the fear painted on their face. Nano wondered if their body would be left to be discovered somewhere or, if it hadn’t been easily disposed of, would anyone still be able to find it given the scale? They only wished their final image of the world wasn’t the bulbous, red face of this sleazeball.

Their ribs shifted unnaturally when the fingers closed in, dirty nails digging into their side and aggravating the blazing pain. Nano choked out what might be considered a cry, the last of their precious breaths. Sandy was enjoying himself, a little too much, if you asked Nano. Their vision was beginning to darken at the edges, blurring their sight into hues of red and black, and they hoped they would pass out before the more unsavory parts of their murder unfolded. The mobster was panting heavily, either from his own injuries or excitement, Nano wasn’t sure.

A flash of purple glowed in the corner of their eye, almost blending in with the encroaching darkness that was trying to blind them. The only reason Nano was able to discern it at all was because of how bright it was in contrast to all their other dulled senses. Exploding colors was probably something that naturally occurred in the midst of dying, like when people claim to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Well, it was definitely a light, maybe this was what everyone was talking about, or maybe it was just their blood vessels bursting in their eyes. Regardless, Nano’s muddled mind wanted to stay focused on the color, somehow calmed by its presence. If they looked hard enough, maybe they would be able to see Uncle Julio…oh man, they had so many things they wanted to say to that weird geezer…

If Sandy had noticed the purple light growing behind him, he made no move to acknowledge it, too caught up in the euphoria of physically squeezing the life out of some poor soul. Nano felt like they had been entranced by it for hours, the ringing in their ears drowning out the telltale whir of sonic energy reaching its maximum potential, yet it had to be no more than a few seconds. The flash engulfed the overturned car behind Sandy, swallowing it up in a haze of purple before it imploded into a fiery orange. The heat radiating from the fireball was intense, flames stretching high and licking at Sandy only a few feet away. His saving grace to not being incinerated after the car was torched was due to the sheer force of the explosion knocking him several feet forward, Nano still in hand. In his surprise, Sandy loosened his grip when he was flung forward, though not entirely letting the tiny hero go when he smacked onto the ground.

The flabby fingers that were itching to be the death of them now became the one thing that prevented Nano from splattering from such a height. Cushioned by the fleshy hand, the worst they got was a shot of agony tingling down their right arm when it was inches from being pulled out of its socket, though thankfully it didn’t fully dislocate. Sandy grunted upon being knocked off his feet, letting the hero roll from his grip in favor of trying to push himself up. He coughed out a weak groan, the back of his suit charred and torn from being kissed by the fire. The few strands of hair on the back of Sandy’s head were singed while the skin of his neck was red hot. Shaky arms did their damnedest to push all of his body weight up, but their weakened state couldn’t support the oversized load for long and he collapsed back onto his stomach. Nano could hear him muttering swears between wheezes, having yet to put these pieces together that this was no ordinary gasoline fire.

Nano did. Nano figured it out the second oxygen was sucked back into their lungs and allowed for basic cognitive functions again. Fucking idiot, how could they forget the whole reason they were running for their lives to begin with? Did they really think Negasonic was going to give up the chase just because they took off down an exit ramp (well, more like forcibly shoved)? Negasonic was thorough and methodical, he wasn’t just going to assume the problem had been taken care of without personally seeing the bodies obliterated himself. A wrecked car by the docks meant nothing, especially since both the hero and mobster had, in fact, survived the accident. If he had waited a moment longer, the supervillain might have only needed to snuff out one victim after Sandy took care of Nano. Then again, Nano was only a few inches tall, Negasonic wouldn’t even need to blast them to get out of the way, just grind down his boot on their already injured form.

They were fucked. They were so, so, so fucked. Negasonic wasn’t given the reputation of being a volatile mastermind for being merciful, after all. He probably had his own moral code of leaving behind no surviving witnesses, regardless of who they were. Nano might be exaggerating a bit, it wasn’t like they fought him hand to hand in the few and far times they’d crossed paths. In fact, he never paid them much mind anyways, too focused on the real superheroes and allowing them the perfect chance to shrink away undetected and not be blown apart like Lady Love. Poor Lady Love, she was trending online for almost a month after that. The point was that Negasonic could do whatever the hell he pleased and answer to no one as to why he did or didn’t do it. There was no reasoning with him, much less so if he already had a plan in motion and someone was foolishly trying to get in the way of it. Someone like Nano, who had tried to help a mobster keep his brains inside of his thick skull. Oops.

Though every fiber of their being screamed in pain, Nano forced himself to crawl away from Sandy in order to seek shelter under some type of loading machinery parked against the dock. They couldn’t run, couldn’t fight, they would have to make do with the only other option of hiding. All Nano had to do was wait for Negasonic to finish his business with Sandy and he would leave, then the hero could figure out a way to scamper back home and lick their tiny wounds. It was hard to focus on one problem at a time when there were about seventeen happening at once, but Nano supposed they could all disappear if their (literally) biggest one happened to find where they’d scurry off to. Negasonic didn’t seem like the type to willingly give up the hunt, not even for a pipsqueak.

At this size, the burning wreckage of the car looked like a city wide bonfire, even more so with flaming shrapnel littered around it to extend the scene. Through the ominous flames, Nano could begin to make out a figure approaching the fallen mobster. The black suit bled into the shadows, intentionally designed, causing the dancing flames to illuminate hard angles that flickered and distorted. Thank fuck Negasonic wore half of a mask over the top half of his face because Nano thought they might have a heart attack if they had to see such unholy shadows carve out his features. The supervillain’s steps were slow, unhurried, taking his time as he knew there was nowhere left for his initial target to scurry off to. Heavy armored boots thumped with each measured step, the embedded armor around his calves jingling like spurs. On anyone else, it might have killed the sinister mood, but for someone like Negasonic it only served to act as a ticking time bomb.

Although Nano could very clearly see the supervillain approaching, Sandy was unable to as he still wriggled on the ground. The explosion must still be ringing in his ears, possibly having blown out an eardrum, because it was only when a menacing silhouette washed over him did his pained bitching turn to nervous stammers. Sandy rolled himself onto his back like a turtle to watch Negasonic step through the wall of fire he’d created, unfazed by the intensity of the flames that tried to cling to his heavy suit. Nano wasn’t sure if it was because the suit itself was made of a flame retardant material or if his body was naturally immune to his own sonic blasts, including the fires they made. Either way, it was a terrifying visual to see, like watching the devil exit from the gates of hell to personally greet you. Never had the hero thought they would pity a man like Sandy, but there were few people they believed should have to suffer whatever fate Negasonic decided to dish out.

“Hey, hey, buddy,” Sandy wobbled side to side as if he was going to flip himself over. When that didn’t work, he settled for raising his hands up with a nervous laugh. “Look, I-I think you might have the wrong idea here, see–”

“I see you have a habit of picking on people smaller than you,” Negasonic tilted his head in mock consideration. “Though, I guess there aren’t many people of your own size to go up against.”

Holy shit. Did Negasonic just crack a joke? Did one of the most feared, ruthless supervillains this half of the country was terrorized by just make a quip about Sandy being morbidly obese? Nano had to be concussed.

“Aha, good one, pal!” Sandy scooted back a few inches when Negasonic continued to walk closer. He gulped. “Say, why don’t we talk this out, huh? I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“You killed Vanessa Gonzales.” Not a question, a statement of fact. She must be the girl Sandy was swearing about earlier in the car, the reason he was in hot water to begin with.

The mobster was shaking. “I-I didn’t know she was with you, I swear! I swear!”

Negasonic stopped. “Oh? You swear? Well then, I guess we were able to talk this out after all.”

Wow, this guy may not be a man of many words but boy were they all dripping with sarcasm. Was he always this brooding or was this only because he was pissed? Sandy was quickly losing his cool with such a powerful force staring him down. He didn’t have any bargaining chips, no weapons to defend himself, nothing at all to give up the upper hand.

“Hey, c’mon now, listen,” Negasonic was advancing again, causing the pitch in Sandy’s pleas to go up an octave. “Look, Dean, buddy, it’s me! Your good friend Nigel! You know I’d never try to double cross you, not after everything we’ve been through.”

Nano just got smacked in the face with so much information that they didn’t even know where to start in processing it. Negasonic’s civilian name was presumably Dean. Negasonic and Sandy had some sort of history together, enough to be on a first name basis. Negasonic apparently didn’t care one way or another what the man was saying. That, or he could be totally bullshitting how deep their friendship really went. Did this alleged friendship exist outside of their respective evil schemes or was it only when they had to work together that they got along? It didn’t matter how strong the bond was, evidently. As far as the supervillain was concerned, once a line was crossed you could no longer be classified as an ally. And if you weren’t with him, you were against him, and if you were against him, you better have a nice insurance plan for your family to cash out.

“I’ll give you whatever you want; money, girls, I c-can tell you all of Phantasma’s upcoming hits! Oh fuck, are they a payout and a half, I’m telling you Deanie. A-and you can keep it all! Promise!” Sandy continued to blabber.

Negasonic was standing right at the mobster’s side now, staring down at him with an unflinching expression. From this angle, Nano was only able to see the supervillain from the thighs down, his cape gently swishing at his ankles. They didn’t hold out much hope for this poor bastard and Sandy must feel the same weight of dread.

“Th-the hero, what about the hero!” Sandy sobbed. Once a rat, always a rat, they supposed. A chill ran down Nano’s spine that they might be tattled on, but they calmed with the knowledge that Sandy was only talking out of his ass right now to buy some time and stay alive. He didn’t know where the hero had disappeared to. “Fucking, uh, whatever the hell that shrimp’s name is…Mini? Micro? Um, shit–”

“Nano.” Oh wow, Negasonic knew who they were?

Oh fuck, Negasonic knew who they were.

“Y-yeah, yeah! That’s the bastard! I-I bet that bike of theirs dented up your grill, yeah? And you have such a nice car, pal, really,” Sandy lipped at his sweaty upper lip. “I had ‘em just a second ago, was gonna fuck ‘em up real good for damaging our cars. I c-can show you where they are, a-and while you teach that little fucker a lesson I can get one of my guys to buff out your grill. Huh? How’s that sound?”

Negasonic hummed. “An interesting proposal…but not one I need a middle man for.”

Before Sandy could get another miserable plea in, the supervillain made a fist and pulled his arm back, a purple energy fizzling at his fingers. He swung down like he was throwing a punch, the small amount of kinetic energy more than enough to fire from his hand directly at Sandy’s head. Of course, it wasn’t like it was that hard to miss. The energy pulsated upon hitting its target of the mobster’s face, disintegrating the flesh and bone like cotton candy melting in water. It was quick and painless, better than what most opponents were granted, and Nano reminded themself to be grateful the supersonic heat essentially turned all matter to ash. No remnants of Sandy’s fat skull remained on the charred ground, even his neck had to be cauterized by the heat, preventing blood from spewing out of the arteries. If the death had been any gorier than it was, Nano probably would have vomited and gone into a panic attack before passing out. Perhaps not even in that order.

That was one target down for Negasonic. How was he going to handle the other?

Truthfully, there were not very many perks to being stuck one twelfth of one’s typical height, but in this instance Nano was extremely grateful for the ability to hide away in tight spaces. They felt like a little mouse hiding away in its hole while the cat was on the prowl, cursing at the fact their boldly colored suit could not melt into the shadows like Negasonic. Stupid heroes and their stupid vibrant colors, why couldn’t Uncle Julio have picked something a little more neutral instead of neon yellow? They were like a walking highlighter! Granted, this was the first time Nano had ever complained about the color ever being an issue, but still, hindsight was 20/20. Whenever they got back home, however they got back home, they could get some fabric dye and tone down the obnoxious hue while repairing their helmet. If they could repair their helmet…if they got home…

Fuck, fuck, what was Nano going to do? They’d really screwed the pooch on this one, sticking their nose into someone’s illegal business. The worst part of it all was that they weren’t even able to save the fat idiot they risked their life to protect, the same bastard who had still tried to kill them and use them as a bargaining chip up until the very end. There was absolutely no reward in sight for attempting to do a good deed and karma wasn’t willing to help Nano out of this mess either. What kind of hero were they? Could they even hold onto the title of being a defender of the city when their hands could barely hold a house key? Nano only existed because of a suit powered by technology they could barely fathom, passed down to them by a dead man who held onto his secret science until the very end. Without that technology, without their helmet, they were just…normal, boring Jamie. A non-superpowered college senior who was barely making rent and thrived off instant noodles.

Perhaps that’s all they were now. Just Jamie. Jamie, who happened to be stuck at four inches tall because Nano had been flattened with the helmet that created them. What a cruel, cosmic joke to be born lame and die lame despite wearing a flashy outfit. Jamie briefly contemplated the pros and cons of exposing themself to Negasonic to get this whole ordeal over with. As optimistic as they wanted to be about the situation, it was simply too grim to imagine getting back home in one piece, let alone wielding oversized tools in an attempt to fix a microscopic helmet with no instruction manual. At the same time, though, they weren’t sure if they were willing to be subjected to the same fate as Sandy. The hero couldn’t even guarantee that it would be as quick and painless.

Yet Negasonic remained where he stood over Sandy’s body. Admiring his work? He never seemed like the type, always ready to move on to whatever the next step was, wanting to get his job over and done with. The obvious answer was that he must be trying to spot Nano, the only witness, the brat who delayed his plan and put two scratches on his fender. Being small meant Jamie would be harder to find, but not impossible, especially for a determined son of a bitch like the supervillain. Jamie tried to scoot further under the machinery to stay out of sight and hopefully out of reach, not that Negasonic couldn’t incinerate the whole dock if he felt like it. At best, they could pray Negasonic didn’t find the hero worth his time and effort and leave.

Jamie’s arm gave out half way through a push backwards, their shoulder still throbbing from being twisted so roughly. Before they could stop the involuntary cry of pain, the yelp escaped them as their ribs smacked against the hard ground. Everything hurt bad. So, so bad. Their breathing was labored and ragged, every expansion of their chest sending a sharp pain through their core. There’s no way they would be able to make it home in this state. They weren’t even sure they could walk. Tears started to prick the corners of their eyes, a mixture of fear and agony behind them. How badly Jamie wished this was a dream, or that the league were on their way to save them in the nick of time. They choked on a wet gasp at the notion that they were somehow more important to Negasonic than they could ever hope to be to any of the esteemed members of the superhero league. Perhaps next time if they stopped shrinking in the midst of every major fight to escape and actually battled alongside the heroes, they’d have a more worthy repertoire.

Boots started jingling again to signal that Negasonic was on the prowl. Jamie gulped and curled further in on themself as they watched the man step alarmingly close to their hiding spot. There’s…there’s no way he actually spotted them, right? He couldn’t have heard all their pained squeaks and whimpers, not with the roar of a burning fire and two tons of loading machinery to muffle them. Still, the supervillain was getting closer and closer, and there was fuckall Jamie could do about it but watch their impending doom approach. They wanted to hold onto the hope that Negasonic was aimlessly wandering and hadn't the faintest idea they were underfoot this whole time. Manifestation, or whatever that belief was of mentally putting a desire out there so that it would come back a reality, would be really helpful right now. Hell if Jamie knew what it was, it had sounded like a pyramid scheme to them, though now would be a great time to prove to them what an awesome concept it was if it could blink the supervillain out of existence.

No such luck so far. The heavy steps stopped inches away from the machine. Jamie held their breath, lungs already on fire as they took in the details of the boots in front of them. They tried to count the stitches, trace the curve of fabric panels, anything to give them a distraction from the gnawing anxiety in their stomach. Their other organs were aching enough, Jamie really didn’t need their gut doing somersaults right now. Fabric shifted from outside their shelter and the cape started to droop onto the ground as Negasonic partially knelt down, tilting his head to peer into the crevice they had jammed themself into. Cold, violet eyes met wide brown ones and they knew it was all over.

Every survival instinct in Jamie’s body screeched at them to get up, pumping their heart with adrenaline to help get a move on. However, fear locked up their limbs so tight all they could do was tremble, the tightness over taking their muscles further irritating the pain already coursing through them. On the bright side, they couldn’t feel the stabbing ache that came with every breath anymore, which was very useful now that they had started to hyperventilate. Negasonic’s mask, though plain black and only covering above his cheekbones, made him look like a fucking ghoul. The faint glow of purple that illuminated from his eyes certainly didn’t help him look any less demonic. His exposed mouth wasn’t frowning or twisted in a snarl which was potentially a good sign, but it still wasn’t offering much comfort. It was expressionless, gave no tell as to what he was thinking or how he felt about the problem at hand. Negasonic regarded them with the same indifference one gave to an insect before swatting it with a newspaper.

That’s all Jamie was at this point, weren’t they? A tiny, insignificant bug ready to be squashed for being too annoying.

When a gloved hand reached in to grab them, there was nothing Jamie could do to stop it. They couldn’t muster a plea, a shout, not even a sob was able to make it pass the tightness of their throat. Warm leather curled around them as fingers secured their hold on the hero’s shaking body, nowhere near as tight as Sandy had been. Then again, Sandy had been purposely trying to squeeze the life out of them, so Jamie didn’t know whether this was a good sign or not that Negasonic had yet to finish the job. Once they were cocooned in the hand, the supervillain retracted his arm to slowly bring them into the open, mindful to rotate his wrist so that they weren’t whacked on any of the sharp metal angles coming out. How considerate.

Though the hold was only tight enough to prevent them from slipping, the amount of pressure over their chest was still too much for their liking. Jamie groaned and squirmed to the best of their limited abilities, blinking back tears as the movement only worsened the pain. They felt like they couldn’t breathe, yet they were noisily sucking in wet gasps while being raised up higher as Negasonic returned to his upright stance. Surprisingly, the hand tilted back so that Jamie was laying on his palm and then opened, freeing any type of constriction on their ribs. There was hardly any time to rejoice in the feeling, however. Through the haze of tears, Jamie saw Negasonic bring his free hand up and extend his finger to their chest, gingerly rubbing it down their sternum and along their sides. If that wasn’t the most bruised area of their body, the soft touches might have felt nice, even if they were extremely uncharacteristic for the supervillain.

It was difficult to tell what kind of ploy this was. Negasonic had no reason to be this gentle with his future victim unless he was trying to savor their fear just as Sandy had. Again, these behaviors didn’t fit his style. Every now and then the finger roaming their upper body would apply an ounce of pressure along their ribs, making Jamie cry out twice when he touched two particularly tender spots. The supervillain didn’t apologize, but at least he pulled away at the sounds of distress. Looking for weak points, perhaps? Debating if he should fire a blast directly from his fingertip into their chest or simply burn their entire body to ash within his hand? Or maybe he was a perverted creep just like all the other criminals, making lewd comments and advances with the promise of uncovering their ‘real’ gender.

Although Negasonic seemed focused on feeling up their chest, he didn’t give off the impression it was for the search of breasts or curves. At least, that’s what Jamie thought as he appeared to conclude his examination of their torso, never once venturing below their waist. The universe sure did love proving the tiny hero wrong, however, when the supervillain snagged the collar of their suit with his finger and broke the zipper, effortlessly opening the uniform as they pulled it down to stop at their bare chest. A new wave of fear washed over Jamie, one that couldn’t fathom Negasonic being so vile. Indignation overran terror this time, a stammered noise refusing to become a proper word as their only way to express how much they did not care for this development.

Jamie slapped the intruding finger away, grabbing the two sides of their suit in a useless attempt to keep them closed. “Wh-what the hell are you doing?!”

“You have two fractured ribs,” Negasonic said, his voice booming like a decree from God. Jamie flinched at the volume, but they weren’t about to tell him to shut up. “I’m alleviating the pressure from your suit.”

Oh. Oh, that made sense after it was explained. The problem is he could have at least given Jamie a fair warning of the shit he was trying to pull instead of letting them think they were about to be sexually assaulted. Who just decides to start copping a feel on an injured hero and undressing them and thinks sure, there’s no way this can be misconstrued. Fucking men.

The hero couldn’t deny the pain in their chest did dissipate some now that the skintight bodysuit wasn’t constricting them any longer. Still, the movement from jerking themself up to fight off their oversized attacker didn’t do them any favors and they collapsed back into the hand with a grunt. “They feel broken…” Jamie mumbled.

“They’re not, that’s why I checked,” the supervillain let his hand drop to his side. “It would be much easier to check if you were a normal size.”

An uncomfortable silence hung between them while Jamie refused to acknowledge the jab for their lack of real powers. Negasonic continued to stare them down while Jamie pointedly avoided any form of eye contact, waiting for him to hurry up and make his next move for they died of embarrassment. Instead, Negasonic tilted his head in that same curious way when the hero didn’t react how he wanted.

“...that was supposed to be your cue to regrow.”

Jamie blinked in surprise, furrowing their brows at his casual demand. Ah, so he thought they were gifted with natural superpowers like himself and were only staying tiny for the fun of it all. While Negasonic might know of the mighty defender Nano, it didn’t seem like the villain knew very much about them aside from their shrinking schtick. It was probably hard to get a read on someone you encountered for a few seconds before getting preoccupied with more important heroes, only for the tiniest one to have slinked off somewhere before you had the chance to annihilate them.

Well, no time like the present to burst his bubble. “I…I can’t…”

“Because you’re injured?”

“N-no,” Jamie wriggled uncomfortably in his hand, wanting to sink in on themself to avoid their confession. It was bad enough they were going to get fried out of existence by one of the most notorious supervillains in America, did they have to be humiliated, too? “My helmet is trashed and…and I can’t grow w-without it.”

They weakly gestured to where the ruins of the helmet might vaguely be strewn about, as if Negasonic was supposed to be able to see the extent of the damage Jamie was talking about. Naturally, he couldn’t find the wreckage even when he squinted his eyes, but he took the hero’s word for it. “Interesting. So your helmet controls your powers?”

Jamie bit their lip as a rush of shame overcame them. “I don’t have powers. It’s all technology, but, b-but it’s so fucked now and I-I don’t know how to fix it!” The dread they had been holding for so long couldn’t stop verbalizing itself now that the floodgates were open, willing to vent to their killer just so that they wouldn’t end their life with a heavy heart. “I can’t fix it, Uncle Julio didn’t tell me h-how to, to fix it. I don’t know what to do, what am I going to do, I-I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to be a hero!”

Negasonic had yet to interrupt Jamie’s panicked rambles, either by words or by energy engulfing them, so they went on to spill their guts a little more. The supervillain may not be merciful, but he could be persuaded. Not easily, of course, though it could be done if the conditions were right. He didn’t seem interested in the promise of money or attractive women when Sandy offered those payments up, which was great because Jamie didn’t have either of those things. If they couldn’t convince him that they were worthy enough to be spared, perhaps they could convince him that they were worthless enough to not waste the effort on.

“I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry for everything!” The tears were streaming freely down their face, clearing paths through the smears of soot and dried blood. “Please, please, don’t kill me. I don’t want t-to die, not like this, please, not like this. I, I-I just, I-” The sob trying to crawl its way out of Jamie’s heaving chest made their injuries throb, cutting off their words with a pitiful whimper.

Seeing them panicking to the point of bodily harm finally made Negasonic react. He braced his thumb, mindful of the damage he had assessed, across their torso that quivered with each short pant. It wasn’t trying to squash any vital organs, but the weight was enough to ground Jamie from the physical touch. Though the action scared them more than it comforted them, it appeared to still achieve the intended results when the hero stilled their entire body under the digit. It was impossible to tell what Negasonic was thinking. They wondered if it would be more or less challenging without the mask.

“Calm down,” was all Negasonic said and wow, that always worked like a charm whenever someone said that to another person assdeep into an episode!

Jamie didn’t consider freezing in terror the same as being soothed, but the new feeling of being pinned by a single finger did force them to step down from the ledge they were currently on in order to climb up a new one. They whimpered again, instinctually writhing under the thumb while bracing their hands against it. To the surprise of no one, they weren’t able to budge it one bit, though in the hero’s defense they didn’t have much strength to spare.

“I-it hurts,” Everything hurt, physically and mentally. Mostly physically right now.

Negasonic had the absolute gall to roll his eyes at them. “It’s because you keep aggravating your wounds. Stop working yourself up.”

Oh, that was real rich coming from the guy who could vaporize their body at the snap of his fingers. How else were they meant to react in the presence of such a infamous evil doer? Weren’t villains supposed to get their kicks seeing people cower and beg? Jamie gulped and squeezed their eyes shut, a few more tears slipping out as they tried to take the useless advice to heart and control their breathing. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Breathe in, try not to think about your encroaching doom, breathe out.

“Just…just do it,” Jamie said through gritted teeth. They didn’t trust themself not to break down into a fit of sobs if they dared open their mouth. There might not be a whole lot of dignity left to take with them to the grave, but Jamie was going to try to preserve as much of it as they could.

“Do what?”

Motherfucker, why did he have to keep playing these games?! He’d always been the ‘shoot first, never ask questions because it doesn’t pertain to the mission’ type of supervillain, toying with his prey had never been Negasonic’s style. Until tonight, apparently.

Their breathing was starting to quicken again as Jamie fought hard to keep their fleeting nerve. The last thing they wanted to do was give him any ideas to prolong their torture, yet here Negasonic was demanding they spell it out for him. “Kill me. Fuck, just, j-just kill me already!”

The anticipation was ten times worse than whatever the actual murder was going to be, giving them too much time to envision all their painful and gory deaths while waiting for the first blow. Jamie waited and waited, almost wondering if they had already been incinerated and hadn’t even realized it. However, when they blinked away the few remaining tears in their eyes, they saw they were still within Negasonic’s hold, the supervillain watching their trembling form with keen eyes. Fire and smoke continued to linger in the air, making the setting reminiscent of the underworld with the devil right in front of them. He must want Jamie to have their eyes open so they can see their death coming, to revel at their final face of fear, to–

“I’m not going to kill you,” Negasonic said.

Somehow, Jamie both believed him and thought he was a goddamn liar at the same time. Not kill them? Negasonic, the man with the power to wipe out cities, with a confirmed death count in the high hundreds, who sought revenge on anyone who minorly inconvenienced him during his business, was going to spare them? Jamie wanted to kiss his feet in gratitude. Jamie wanted to scream at him to knock it off with these games. There was a catch, there had to be a catch. A twisting of words the hero wasn’t seeing. Maybe he wouldn’t kill them, but Negasonic said nothing about mutilating them and leaving their still breathing body to be finished off by something else. The supervillain wasn’t known to do favors. No such thing as a free lunch in the criminal underground.

Jamie wasn’t sure if they truly wanted to know the answer, but they asked anyway. “What…wh-what are you going to…do then?”

The thumb that had been holding the hero still shifted to rub against their bruising side. They shivered, twisting away from the gentle touch they feared could turn deadly. Negasonic wasn’t fazed by the rejection. “Get a small enough cold compress for your ribs, first of all. Although that still might be too much weight for your size…we’ll need to ratio the correct dosage of pain relievers as well so you don’t overdose.”

That…sounded an awful lot like medicinal remedies for Jamie’s injuries, which was the total opposite of what they were expecting. Negasonic was offering to help get them on the mend, heal them with proper medication and care. Why? As Nano, they had roughed up the front of his car and kept him at bay from Sandy for all of ten minutes. Those were more than enough reasons to slam their tiny, broken body into the nearest wall like a flyball and call it a day. They just couldn’t picture the supervillain trying to play nurse, fretting over making sure everything was to scale for his new little patient. There had to be an end goal in doing this, some sort of payout Jamie wasn’t considering, but they kept drawing a blank for any legitimate reasons.

“You…what? Wh-why?” They sniffled, rubbing their hand over their face to wipe away any trace of dampness. The tears had stopped, more out of confusion than anything.

They could have sworn they saw the corners of Negasonic’s mouth twitch up for half a millisecond. Trick of the lighting, perhaps. “Would you prefer I leave you here for the seagulls?”

Oh, fuck, Jamie hadn’t even considered those little bastards as an obstacle they’d have to face in trying to get home on their own. “No! No, I just, I don’t understand,” They furrowed their eyebrows in a pout and there was that twitch of a smile again! “Aren’t heroes and villains supposed to, like, fight? Not…patch each other up?”

“You really think you could fight me right now?” Okay, there was definitely a full blown smirk on Negasonic’s face, loving the visual of an overly confident Nano trying to square up at four inches tall. Almost like a chihuahua picking a fight with a rottweiler.

“I don’t think I could fight you at my normal size,” they admitted.

Negasonic hummed in agreement. “That explains why you always run off then.”

Heat rushed to Jamie’s cheeks as if they were a child who was being told off. All those brief run-ins with each other, never a single word or punch thrown between them, and Negasonic recognized them well enough to know they scampered away before the dust settled. The supervillain didn’t appear like he was trying to be patronizing or mocking them for their cowardliness, simply stating a fact. Hero facade or no hero facade, he flat out terrified them, just as he was meant to do. Jamie wanted to stammer out something, but they couldn’t find the words to apologize or defend themself.

Sensing their embarrassment, most likely judging by the increasingly redness of their face, Negasonic half-shrugged a shoulder. “You’re not the first to run away with your tail between your legs. Probably saved your life.” That was probably meant to be comforting, yet Jamie could only feel their guts twisting at the thought.

With a new plan in action that Jamie only knew the bare bones of, Negasonic curled his fingers lightly over the tiny hero to keep them from slipping as he started to walk back to his car. This was not how they planned their night to go, but at least they were still breathing…for now. The future was still debatable. They tried to look forward to the promise of pain medication, already picturing how awestruck they would be when they entered the villain’s lair to be patched up. What sort of cool, high tech gadgets he must have that were powered by his own energy. Maybe he lived in a mansion with an underground facility stockpiled with vehicles and weapons. Maybe he lived in a bunker in the woods, or within a secret passage of a cave. Whatever it was, it had to be a lot cooler than Jamie’s shabby apartment cluttered with the notes and finished projects of their uncle. Would have been nice to inherit the house and lab all this stuff was created in, but those had been repo’d soon after Uncle Julio was hospitalized.

Wait…wait. “Wait!”

They were half expecting the supervillain not to listen to them and, while he didn’t stop walking, he looked down at Jamie to give them his attention with a tilt of his head.

“My helmet!” Hope dared to foolishly flood their heart. Negasonic had so much more experience with advanced technology, or he had to know someone who was skilled in such specialized engineering to have a car that could fire his own energy blasts from. Jamie might not be able to troubleshoot a desktop, but Negasonic probably knew his way around a soldering iron. “We need to find it!”

“Why? I thought you said it was trashed?” And would also be a pain in the ass to find, was the unsaid complaint.

Jamie was more than happy to volunteer scouring the pavement until they could find wherever Sandy had carelessly discarded it. “Y-yeah, it is, but we can fix it! You can help me!”

Negasonic gave them a slow blink. “Kid, I have no idea how to repair your tech. I didn’t even know shrinking technology existed until you told me fifteen minutes ago.”

The hesitant smile on Jamie’s face dropped just as their stomach did. “But…but I don’t know how to fix it either…”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Indeed, it was extremely unfortunate. Before Jamie could work up another fit of hysterics, the supervillain shushed them just when their chest was starting to pant unevenly.

“Look, let’s focus on one thing at a time. You’re hurt, it’s probably not a good idea to be regrowing with fractures anyways.” He had a good point, honestly. Jamie started to relax when he spoke up again. “After you’re healed we can see if it’s worth resizing you back to normal.”

Jamie sputtered at that. “If, if it’s worth it?! I’m a fucking human being!” Well, to be fair, that last statement made very little difference to a supervillain like Negasonic. If he was one thing, it was that he wasn’t discriminatory when it came to who he killed. “You can’t keep me tiny forever!”

But he could and that was the most terrifying realization the hero had had all night. This whole time they had been envisioning the various methods Negasonic might use to torture them to death, but never once had Jamie considered that he might just…keep him. For what, they didn’t know, but there were no good reasons to keep any person without their consent to begin with! A pet, a project, it was all equally dehumanizing. Negasonic didn’t care, though. He was the one holding all the cards (or all the tinies, rather).

“You’re also a hero who’s started to break routine and get in my way,” the supervillain opened the driver side of his car to drop into the seat. Jamie cried out at the motion, feeling dizzy by the changing orientation until they could get their bearings within the car’s sleek interior. Negasonic used his other hand to press some sort of combination on hidden buttons under his steering column in order to make the center console shift and open, presenting a small, clear container when the top slid open. The hero imagined it was something akin to an evidence holder, just something to drop a few items into for secure purposes before they could be taken back to his base. Now, it was to be Jamie’s temporary holding cell with the hand cradling them moving to slide them within.

“No, no!” They tried to cling to the fingers they once pushed away, slipping off of the palm onto their knees. Jamie should be thankful they weren’t mindlessly dropped in, surely turning those fractures into clean breaks. As soon as Negasonic removed his hand, the container lid automatically shut to seal them in. “You can’t do this, please!”

“I can do whatever I want,” he said, revving the engine to life. “And that includes keeping pesky little heroes off the streets, no matter how cute they are.”

…cute?

#g/t #macro/micro #giant/tiny #gianttiny #g/t ocs #my writing #g/t writing #g/t community #g/t angst #fearplay #sfw g/t #size difference #g/t fearplay #superhero au #no batman spoilers #hiddendreamer hasnt read the last 5 pages so hopefully theyre not too trashed without her editing lmao #wow tumblr format rly smushes ur paragraphs into text walls huh #oh well im not reformatting them

115 notes · View notes

blood-and-pizza · 3 years ago

Note

Do the classics and the toys get along in your AU?

Currently, they do! They used to not get along so well, however.

When the Classics and the Toys first met, the Toys thought since they were newer and shinier, it made them better than the Classics. As you can imagine, the Classics took serious offense to this. For a while, there was a serious rivalry between the two groups.

However, when Foxy and Mangle fell in love with each other, their respective "families" made peace with one another. The Toys and the Classics consider Foxy and Mangle's wedding anniversary a very important date for that reason.

Unfortunately, whenever Foxy and Mangle actually have arguments - which are rare - the Classics and the Toys settle back into their old feuding habits. It's... made for some very stressful times for the maintenance team. Not only do they have to fix the animatronics' injuries, they have to act as mediators to settle arguments and make sure everyone gets along again. Thankfully, again, this is a rare occurrence.

Let me tell you how everyone gets along with their counterparts:

Classic Freddy tries to get Toy Freddy to be more responsible, and to take more breaks from his video games. Toy Freddy knows Classic Freddy is right to do so, but he still complains. He'll do what he says, but he won't like it. It's tough to say whether Classic Fred is being a dad to Toy Fred, or an older brother who's trying to get his kid brother to act right. Either way, it's a familial relationship, and they do care about each other, even if they annoy each other sometimes.

Classic Bonnie and Toy Bonnie love to tell each other jokes. In fact, pretty much all the Bonnies like telling each other jokes, but Classic Bonnie is particularly notorious for his mastery of puns. Toy Bonnie learned a lot from him, though he tends to put his own sassy spin on his wordplay. They also really love playing guitar together, and taking turns trying to outwail each other on their instruments.

Classic Chica and Toy Chica consider each other sisters. Toy Chica loves helping Classic Chica in the kitchen, often recommending the latest healthy recipes for her to make for the maintenance team. This has had... mixed results, to say the least. They also really love hosting "ladies nights" at the Estate, which are little hangout parties for the female and nonbinary residents, be they animatronic or human. The only male allowed at ladies night is Toy Bonnie, for reasons I'm sure you'll understand.

Foxy and Mangle/Toy Foxy are madly in love. These two animatronic foxes could give Gomez and Morticia Addams a run for their money. It wasn't like that at the start, however.

Toy Foxy had always found Foxy the Pirate Fox rather dashing, and in turn, Foxy thought Toy Foxy was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life. But on principle, they hated each other because their families hated each other.

Then, in 1987, at the pizzeria where the Toys were working, a rowdy group of older children tore Toy Foxy to pieces. Toy Foxy wouldn't stop screaming out of her voice box, and when a certain employee tried to gather him up, he bit his arm.

She was shipped to Fazbear Estate for heavy repairs and "mental" recovery. Toy Foxy... Mangle... sat in a corner of what was then a barnhouse, absolutely heartbroken over how "ugly" he looked. Foxy, seeing this, took pity on him, and did everything he could to make him feel better. He reassured her that she was still "as beautiful as any mermaid" and that she wouldn't be "mangled" for much longer.

Foxy proved to be instrumental in Toy Foxy's "mental" recovery, which took far longer than her physical repair. It was a hurdle to be there for her when it was decided the Classics would get remodeled and be forced out of retirement, but Foxy was very good at dodging pizzeria staff and running from the restaurant to the estate. Yeah, he earned a lot of weird looks, but he was a fox on a mission!

Eventually, the Classics were retired in 1994 and went back to the estate for good. By then, Foxy and Toy Foxy were officially a couple, and madly in love. They decided if they were going to spend the rest of their lives together, they'd make it official and get married. The wedding was held at the Estate, and was a big event attended by animatronics, William Afton and his kids, Henry and his kids, and various Fazbear Entertainment employees. Fredbear officiated the ceremony. It was actually a really beautiful event, even if it was low-budget. The highlight of it was the exchange of vows; both were incredibly passionate and dramatic.

Foxy and Mangle are just as in love now as they were on their wedding day. Both of them proudly wear wedding rings on their hooks... they don't care if it's the correct hand or not, they just think it's funnier that way.

#fnaf #fazbear estate au #freddy fazbear #toy freddy #bonnie the bunny #toy bonnie #chica the chicken #toy chica #foxy the pirate fox #mangle #shipping #foxy and mangle were my first serious fnaf ship so they get special treatment

12 notes · View notes

freddy-fazbears-wonderland · 4 years ago

Note

adding onto the nonbinary animatronics with my own headcanons: lolbit (they/them), funtime foxy (he/they), mangle (she/they), puppet (they/them). these are just my personal interpretations, pls don't @ me ;-;

No anon these are cool!! Don't be scared!

It's nice to see nonbinary animatronics, especially since most of Foxy's counterparts are gender nonconforming anyways. I really dislike how fans tend to erase that part of them for shipping purposes. Like, you can still ship the characters regardless of gender so I see it as pointless.

My Mangle, Funtime Foxy and Lolbit are genderfluid and use all pronouns. I'll probably make more trans and non-binary animatronic headcanons since most of my LGBT headcanons have been based on sexuality.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy’s 2 #five nights at freddy's: sister location #sister location #mangle #funtime foxy #lolbit #fnaf headcanon #the puppet #the marionette

11 notes · View notes

unfortunatemoth · 4 years ago

Text

The Fox and The Hare

CHAPTER 1 - The Fox - Filicide

Read on AO3

TWs: Abuse, physical abuse, breaking bones, body horror, descriptions of violence, blood and gore, injuries, death, homophobia and use of slurs, hallucinations, bullying, mentions of prosthetics. Please tell me if I missed anything! Notes: Bonnie is nonbinary! Reynard/Rey = Foxy Maggie = Mangle Cher = Toy Chica

His mind felt numb. It always went blank when this happened. The smell of blood was too familiar at this point. It still stung at his eyes and clogged his senses, but it wasn’t new anymore. He felt like a shell, laying in his bed with his pillow over his ears to block out the cries coming from the next room. He knew it was painful to be the one in that chair. To take the beating while the blinking light recorded every second of it. Every hit, stab, slash, tear… It was all recorded for sick people to see. Scars littered his small body, broken bones left to mend on their own without ever going to a doctor, and he looked overall pitiful. His older sister was worse, though. Maggie had always been the one to take his punishments. Yes, he’d still get punished, but she’d take the worst of it for him. That added with her separate punishments led to her looking… like how she does. It didn’t help that she was so rebellious, always promising him that when she turns 18 she’ll break them out. Stealing them food, water, and extra clothes. She got in trouble, not just with Father. She was so skinny. She’d been denied food for a week now, her legs could barely keep her standing anymore. She could still have water, but her growling stomach never stopped. Her hand was broken when she tried to steal food for herself. He knew that soon enough she’d be fed, fed more than she can handle, as another punishment. The house smelled. Maggie’s hair was going grey early from all of the stress. Her once pretty red-brown hair had prominent grey streaks, and she had such dark bags under her eyes. Her left arm was completely useless and her eye was patched up, she had so many scars. Her broken bones weren’t like Reynard’s. His could actually be.. “Healed”. While her bones were broken so out of place, no way for them to mend themselves. She had missing teeth and a crooked nose. Her body wasn’t what it used to be. She used to be so pretty.

Father stopped bringing home victims to torture in favor of using Maggie as his personal punching bag. Reynard was always forced to watch, and listen to her suffering. He’s not sure why he’s so angry today. All he knew is that he wanted to throw up. His older sister’s blood was on his feet, and she laid twitching on the floor, slowly getting back up on her hands and knees. He doesn’t know how she could always get back up. She was strong. Despite her injuries, her useless arm, and her swollen legs, she still got up, albeit heaving and drooling. She was hit one last time with a metal bat to the side before Father left. As the door closes, he immediately rushes to his sister’s side. He was only a child, though, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to even start with healing her. A bandaid couldn’t help this. His hands were shaking as he helps her sit against the wall. Her breathing was heavy, bruises forming on her quickly. He moves across the room, grabbing her shirt and skirt for her. She was left in her underwear. It was never anything sexual, it was more so for humiliation. Or for being able to harm her better. He struggles helping her into her clothing, her flinching every time she bends her limbs. Her dead arm was stiff from the beating it got. He noticed her torn ear, the blood matting her hair and staining her neck. She wasn’t as skinny, but he could still see her bones through her skin. Her neck was badly bruised, she’d been strangled. Her clothes did little to hide her injuries. She was breathing, but limp against the wall, eye glazed and unfocused. He holds her hand gently. He’s afraid he could break her with the slightest movement. He couldn’t shed tears, he’s so dehydrated. He’s so thirsty. Instead, he let out quiet sobs, trying to desperately contain them so Father doesn’t hear.

Then the fateful night happened. He was 13 and Maggie was 17, about to turn 18 in 4 weeks.

It was a mostly quiet night, the cicadas chirping being whitenoise in the background. He’d always been a light sleeper, coming in and out of consciousness. His sister had been gone for 3 days. He was worried, obviously. It plagued his mind, but he already spent two nights worrying himself to death, and he desperately needed to sleep. He had dark eye bags under his eyes, and bloodshot eyes. He was so tired. He would flinch awake whenever he heard a creak or a noise. But in the end, sleep overtook his body. He felt heavy. His sleep didn’t last long, though. He jolts awake when he hears a noise in the hallway. Father usually isn’t awake this late. And if he is, he’s outside. He sits up with bated breath, staring wide eyed at his bedroom door. His throat felt tight.

When the doorknob started moving, he felt as though it was moving in slow motion, but it was probably just in his tired mind. But relief washed over him, almost overwhelmingly so when he saw his sister poking her head in with a crooked smile. She walks in, followed by a girl she’s never seen before with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was really pretty. They shut the door as quietly as possible. “Rey, I need you… I need you to grab, uh, grab your things, okay? Gra- grab what you need, we can’t have t-too much that’ll slow us down, al-alright? I’ll be sure to get you.. I’ll be sure to get you, uh, get you new things.” She says, her voice croaky and slow from all of the abuse done to her throat. She clears her throat, muffling the sound with her sleeve. Reynard nods slowly, looking at the other woman who had a comforting hand on Maggie’s shoulder. She notices this and gives a pretty smile. “I’m Cher.” She says quietly, kneeling down next to him. “I’m your sister’s partner. I’m helping you get out of here, okay?” He didn’t completely understand what was happening, but he nodded silently once again. “G-Good.” Maggie smiles. “Get, get your things, Rey-rey.” He obeys her, getting up and grabbing a change of clothes, his water bottle, and other things he deemed important. Maggie kept guard at the door, and Cher was peeking out the window for anything. He puts everything into his beat up school backpack. They both look at him, soft smiles on their faces. It made his worry dispel, at least a little.

He grabs onto her useless hand, noticing how it’s been bandaged up. He wonders if a doctor did it or if someone else did. “Should be clear.” She whispers, slowly opening his bedroom door and looking around. His tension was high once again, and he grips a little tighter onto her hand, even though she can’t feel it. He gulps, anxiety buzzing inside of him. They walk slowly, making their way towards the front door. They all moved so slowly to not make any noise. His head was hurting from the amount of concentration it took just to not put too much weight on his feet. The tension was so high that it stressed him to no end. It was all going well, they were almost to the front door. His heart was racing, and his throat felt tight.

Then, he slipped. His stupid socks slipping on the polished wood floor, it was too dark to see where he was putting his feet. It felt like it was going in slow motion, Cher reaching to catch him and Maggie nearly falling with him. He hit the floor hard, and it was as if a gunshot went off. They all stare, wide eyed and pain bloomed in his arm. Cher quickly gets him to his feet and they race for the front door, stealth now out the window as Maggie works on the locks. She curses under her breath as loud, stomping footsteps come from down the hall. Then, Father turns the corner, seeing the three of them at the door. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He asks, voice low and rumbling. He was absolutely seething at what he was looking at. Reynard felt all of the color drain from his face. He felt cold, seeing the man before them. “I-I’m… I’m fucking taking R-Rey!” Maggie yells, voice hoarse. “No, you fucking wont!” He yells, walking forward and grabbing Reynard, forcefully stealing him from Cher’s grip. “Rey!” Maggie runs at him, but gets punched in the jaw, hitting the wall hard with a thump. “Babe!” Cher cries, looking between the door and Maggie. But she stands back up like she always does. “So first you try to take my son, and next you’re a fucking dyke?!” He screams, throwing Reynard aside like he was nothing but a doll. He slams into the floor, and he can feel his shoulder disconnect. He swallows his scream, tears prickling in his eyes as he breathes heavily, scooting back.

“Cher, go!” Maggie yells. Cher looks reluctant but quickly grabs Reynard and runs out the door, carrying him as if he were her own child. But, she doesn’t run far, setting him in the bushes and standing up. Her cheeks were stained with black tears from her makeup. “Stay here, please. I’m going back in there, just stay here and hide, okay?” She says, grabbing his smaller hand, practically pleading. He simply nods, and she gives a smile, running back into the house. Of course, though, he wasn’t going to just wait here. He peeks in through the window, getting a view of the living room where it was happening. In the living room, Father was beating her harder than he’s ever seen before. He throws her onto the floor, stomping and kicking her head. Cher runs in, pulling out a gun from her purse, pointing it at him with shaky hands. All of them are frozen in place, and Cher says something he can’t hear. Father steps back a bit, and Cher lowers her guard. He takes this opportunity to push her into the wall, the gun falling to the floor and sliding away. Cher groans, nose bleeding. Maggie tries to get back up but he kicks her again, stomping on her throat. He stops, breathing heavily as Cher once again tries to wrestle him, but he flicks her away like a bug. He grabs the metal bat from the corner, swinging it at the girl’s head and she falls over, unconscious on the floor now. Maggie scrambles to get on her feet, but is swiftly cut off by the bat hitting her knee. She screams in pain, her broken knee giving out as she tries to scoot away from him. Reynard is frozen. His muscles refuse to move and his eyes can’t look away. Dread builds inside of him. Father brings the bat down on her, not holding back at all. Her arm gets beaten, breaking and the bones splintering and sticking out through her skin in a way that makes him want to vomit. But he doesn’t stop, continuing to bring the bat down onto her already limp, weak body. Both of her kneecaps were shattered, her skin red and purple all over. She was heaving out blood, it pouring from her lips like vomit. He swings at her head again, and he sees her jaw dislocate, but he doesn’t stop. Smashing, hitting, and destroying her head. She didn’t even look alive anymore, her head somewhat caved in and clear fluids coming from her mouth and nose along with the blood. Her eye was wide open, glazed over, no light in them. But, Father still leans down and twists her neck, snapping it until it's in the complete wrong direction. He wants to vomit. He didn’t even notice Cher. She had inched towards the gun while Maggie was taking the beating, she probably hasn’t seen just how bad it is yet. She lifts up the gun, shooting him in the leg and he yells, dropping his bat and holding his leg. This gives her a clear view of Maggie. Her eyes land on her mangled lover. Shock spreads over her face. There was a beat of silence, and then she screams, such a primal, gut wrenching scream that he’s never heard before. She drops the gun, completely forgetting about what they were here for and goes for Maggie’s body. But Father turns around, grabbing her and wrapping his hands around her neck. She yells, kicks, screams, tries to fight back, but the fighting starts to stop and her yells get quieter until her hand drops limply to her side.

After that there was a chilling silence. The only sound being Father’s shuffling as he stands up, putting away the bat and lighting a cigarette as if it were any other day. Reynard finally feels time unpause, and he practically collapses, legs giving out on him and he heaves, vomiting onto the ground, only his stomach fluids coming from him. He hasn’t eaten in a while. He knows he needs to run. He needs to run as quickly as possible and get the fuck out of here. He needs to go, but he feels limp, just like his dead sister. Dead. That realization sinks in, hitting him like a train. He wants to scream. He wants to scream and cry and bash his head into a wall. Why is he alive?

And it’s his fault. His fault they got caught. That hurts more than any injury he’s ever received. He breathes quickly, gasping and shaking. It’s his fault. It’s his fault they both died. He killed them. He killed them and they’re gone forever and now he’s going to be a slave to his Father and their hard work and deaths would be for nothing. His head is pounding, and he wants to scream, but his throat feels swollen and his muscles are stiff. He doesn’t remember when or how he fainted.

The next day, he woke up in Father’s car. He felt so drowsy, his vision blurry as he slowly regained his consciousness. He smelled cigarette smoke, and heard the radio on. He blinks slowly, looking up at Father, who was staring ahead. “Finally awake, brat?” He asks, flicking his cigarette and turning to him. He frowns, looking around. In the back seat were two bodies. Cher and Maggie. Cher looked otherwise fine, though she was only wearing her underwear, he’s not sure why. But Maggie… Her poor body was practically mangled, none of her limbs were twisted the right way. Her head was almost completely backwards, and her body was laid awkwardly, her bones not really holding a human shape anymore from the amount of damage. Her mouth hung open from her broken jaw, her nose broken beyond repair and her neck splotchy and red. She looked so pale. He felt sick staring at her, so he looked away. “What… What’re we doing?” He asks, looking at Father with fearful eyes. He huffs, blowing out smoke slowly and putting out the cigarette on the dashboard. “We’re getting rid of the bodies.” He says simply. He then opens his door, getting out and going to the trunk, holding two large white sheets. He opens the back door, setting the sheets on top of the bodies. He then grabs filled trash bags, placing them on top, probably to make it look less suspicious. He then gets back in the car, buckling up. “But we’re not disposing them here. That dyke’s got a family that’ll be looking for her. If we go to a different state or county, the body won't be so easily identified.” He explains this, turning the car on. He glances at his child. “And this will also be an example to you if you ever think about misbehaving.” Reynard gulps, feeling a chill go down his spine at the icy tone. He simply nods, buckling his seatbelt and staring ahead out the window.

Everything seemed to start fading away after that. Nothing felt like it existed anymore. The music sounded like static to his ears. His entire body felt numb, light but at the same time so heavy. His eyes were unfocused. He just… shuts down. This tended to happen, usually when Father brought people home. His brain turning off to avoid the emotional meltdown he’d have to eventually face. Just bottle it up for a little longer. He’s not sure how long they’ve been in the car, his mental clock just stopping for him. They could’ve been here for hours, minutes, or maybe just a breath. He might’ve fallen asleep at one point, but he doesn’t really know. All of it was foggy. The time on the road all blended together. But, then they come to a stop. The road they were on was completely barren, and it’s now nighttime, but he’s not sure the exact time, it was just dark out. He pulls in, stopping the car and unbuckling his seatbelt. He gets out, the car chiming, lights blinking. “Get out, kid.” He says. Reynard follows suit, getting out of the car slowly. He feels his tension rising, his back feels stiff, almost, and his throat tight. He grips onto his shirt, biting his lip. Slowly, Father begins taking out the trash bags. They all drop onto the concrete, and the covered bodies become more visible. He adjusts his gloves, wetting his lips and grabbing a body, wrapping it up some more with the sheet. It was harder to wrap Maggie’s body. He huffs, pulling the bodies out, and chucking them into the shallow ditch. Rey felt a bit sick. Father goes to the trunk, pulling out two containers of gasoline. And, without a word, he dumps all of it onto the bodies. “This is what happens…” He throws the empty canisters out of the way, lighting a match, “To brats that misbehave.” And he throws the match into the ditch. It lit so much easier than he had expected. The smell made him want to vomit. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to not seem as distressed as he actually is. The fire grew huge, he could see the sheets burning and holes forming, showing the now darkened, dry dead skin. They stand there, watching for a moment. The smoke made his eyes water. Or maybe it was his emotions. If his Father sees, he’ll just say it’s from the smoke either way. “Okay, get in the fucking car, we’re leaving.” He turns, going back to the driver’s seat. Reynard takes a second. This was the last time he’d ever see his sister. He bites his lip, tearing his eyes away and running back to the car.

That was the last time he ever saw his older sister.

The next day on the news, two unidentified female bodies were found. No one came forward to the police. They were marked as Jane Does, and the case went cold.

Skipping ahead, he was in school again. He’s not sure why Father allowed him to go back to school, but he appreciated it. Even if the people there were mean and made fun of him. They called him names, or were generally creeped out by him. He had a lazy eye now, which in itself caused a lot of bullying on top of the problems he already has with it. Then he’d get bullied for his name, too, being called Rey-tard by his peers. They seemed to think it was the funniest shit, for some reason. He wasn’t all that attractive, either. He had crooked teeth and an ugly scar on his nose. Most of his scars were covered, at least. His lazy eye would dry out a lot easier, he’s not sure why, but it’d look all red and gross. None of the bullying got physical, really. He suspects it's because he’s already got a prosthetic. Oh yeah, he has a prosthetic leg now. It was real ugly looking, and he covered it with pants all the time. So the bullying never extended to anything physical. Funny though how they still made fun of him. Some of them backed down when they learned about it, probably pity, but there were still people who picked on him. If they got especially rude, he’d detach his leg and it’d usually freak them out. So he was known as a weirdo, too. It wasn’t all bad, though. He had some.. Friends? Or, at least people who pitied him. It was better than being taunted. He wasn’t a great student, either. He had bad grades from always zoning out, he’d hear things that weren’t there and see stuff out of the corner of his eyes. They were mostly auditory. Once, when they were watching a documentary for class, all he could hear was the background music. It was much louder than anything else, and it sounded like it was coming from the floor rather than the speakers. He’d hear people say his name, or sometimes feel taps on his shoulder when people weren’t actually touching him. This would cause him to say things out loud in the middle of class, and get laughed at or scolded. On especially bad days, he’d hear his sister. But not just that. Whenever he’d see a bat, he’d hear her grunting and groaning coming from behind him. He’d also hear her panting and breathing right beside him in class sometimes, or her croaky voice whispering things that he can’t make out. And on the worst days, he’ll see her. Her mangled body. He’s never had a hallucination of her in her normal state. Always her mangled, disfigured dead body. Once the room started to get covered in blood. The first time he saw her, he began screaming in class, falling out of his chair. He was sent to the nurse and it took them an hour to snap him back to reality, and another 30 minutes to calm him down. He can’t get any medicine prescribed to him because his Father isn’t going to spend money on any sort of therapy or psychiatrist. But his hallucinations were getting worse. He doesn’t really remember when they started, but they’ve been getting worse and worse. His “bad days” were becoming more frequent and his grades were dropping tremendously. He’s been trying to ignore these hallucinations, though it was really hard when he could hear and feel it all. Even if others couldn’t experience them, it all felt real to him. He knows they’re not real, but they feel so real. He even smells things sometimes. He’ll smell blood a lot of the time. Sometimes, the noise around him gets turned down, sounding like he’s underwater, and he’ll see his arm detached on his desk. No one else sees it, no one else is even looking at him, but his arm is on the table, and he can’t feel anything. He feels like he’s going insane. Maybe he is. He knows next to nothing about mental health. Who knows what the fuck is going on in his brain? He sure doesn’t.

He wishes he could tell someone, anyone, about what happened to his sister and her girlfriend. But to everyone, he’s an only child. He’s not sure how Father was able to completely wipe his sister’s identity. But only they knew about the two Jane Doe cold cases. Not many other students really keep up with the news. Plus, at this point it's been a few years. He’s about 16 years old. The case was still being investigated, but at this point many officers have moved onto active cases. The Jane Doe cases faded into the background for everyone. Just another murder. It makes him feel sick. If he tells anyone, they’d contact Father and then he’d get beaten. Or maybe killed. He doesn’t know what punishment he’d get if he ever said anything about that murder. The thought alone scared him. He wants to scream it to the world. Maybe when he can leave his father he can safely go to the police. Just maybe. He just needs to wait a few more years.

When he became 19, he had enough money from his part time job to get an apartment in a completely different state. It was still close by, the next state over, but it was a long drive and he hoped that his Father wouldn’t be that dedicated to kill him. It was really hard, getting all the money without Father stealing any of it, and most of all finding a place he could afford and finding the time to be able to move. He didn’t tell his Father about it, either. He just wanted to get the fuck out of there. He used a bus instead of his car, and he planned to replace all of his electronics, just so he couldn’t be easily tracked. Maybe he was paranoid, but he doesn’t want to risk anything. Moving into his apartment was exhausting, but he made sure to only pack some suitcases and only two boxes of his things, just so it wouldn’t slow him down. It was still such an annoyance. He only had a couch, some chairs, and a mattress for now. It wasn’t a life of luxury, that’s for sure. In his new home, he works 2 different part time jobs. One as a cook, and another as a janitor. He’s not really allowed to be a cashier or anything that shows him much. He’s not exactly the most comforting presence to be around, that’s for sure. Nor was he really welcoming. He’s no good at talking, and his appearance was a little sketchy. He worked hard, though. Mostly because he needs money to actually live, and not so much out of passion.

After two months of living on his own, he decides to finally go to the police station. He was incredibly anxious, and he was surely looking suspicious just walking into the police station while acting this paranoid. He probably looks like a druggie or something, but he came to file a report, so that’s why he’s here. It took some time, but he’s eventually sat down with an officer, one who seemed tired and disinterested. He gulps, shifting in his seat. “Okay, Reynard…” She writes something down, looking at him. “What is it you’re reporting today?” “T.. The Jane Doe cases from… 6 years ago.” He begins, and the woman looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Uh, I know who did it. M-My father.. He, uh… he killed them.” She hums, chewing on her pen as she types on her computer. It’s quiet for a few minutes. She then looks back at him. “We don’t have any unsolved Jane Doe cases here.” She says simply. “N-No the.. The case in California. Uh… Shasta County.” He gulps. She hums. “We can’t really do anything other than contact the police department over there.” She explains. She doesn’t seem to be taking his statement very seriously. He bites his lip, nodding. She writes something down. “We’ll contact the sheriff there, and inform him of your statement. Then you can call their police department, alright?” He frowns but nods. “Alright… Thank you.”

First try wasn’t great, but hopefully the next try will go well.

Calling the Shasta County Police Department was a little strange. He paced in his living room, trying to calm his nerves. “Y-Yes, I’d like to file a report.” He says, clearing his throat. “It’s about the Jane Doe cases from 6 years ago. The, uh, unsolved one.” There’s some typing on the other line. “Yes, what do you have to report?” He gulps, trying to calm his nerves. “Uh, my Father. He killed them.” “Your Father?” “Yes.”

There’s a bit of silence on the other line, before she begins speaking again. “Alright, what details do you know about the case, sir?” This was it. He gives a shaky breath. “Uh, all of it. I was, uh, there. One of them was, uh, my sister. We were heavily, a-abused as kids.” He says, voice beginning to shake. “He, uh, was always violent. Not just with us, h-he’d kidnap and torture and kill people o-on camera. U-Uh, he’d hit us with.. Ba… bats.” He’s starting to shake a little. “H-He uh, killed her and her girlfriend a-after she tried to, uh… escape with me. He killed them and… burned them in a ditch…” There’s typing on the other line, some occasional hums. When he finishes, she speaks again. “What’s your name again? And the victim's names?” He gives their names, but he can’t remember the girlfriend’s name, no matter how hard he tries.. Again, there’s a long silence. “Sorry, sir, there isn’t a ‘Maggie’ in our system. We can’t find any birth records, either… And we can’t do much about the other victim if you can’t remember her name.” She speaks slowly. “N-No, I swear she’s the one who died!” He sounds desperate now, gripping the phone tightly. “Sir, please calm down. I suggest… you see a therapist or psychiatrist, sir. I think you’re just imagining things… And to begin with, the victim’s injuries are more in line with a car crash than a bat.” She speaks slowly and carefully, as if she’s talking to a child. “She was killed by a bat! A-A metal one!” He’s breathing heavily now, one hand clutching his stomach. The woman sighs. “Sir, I’ll get you on line with a psychiatrist.” “No-!” The phone cuts off.

He didn’t have any luck after that. He's not sure why no one would believe him. He’s telling the honest truth. Is his story really that unbelievable? He feels sick. He’s on medication now, at least. That’s one plus. His hallucinations aren’t as frequent or bad as they used to be, but it still bugged him to no end that his story keeps getting disregarded. He wants to pull his hair out, it’s so frustrating. Talking to a therapist helps, but they just… don’t believe him. It doesn’t help that he has some gaps in his memory. It was so frustrating. He just… wants to give up. He doesn’t want his Father to get away with it, obviously, but he’s so… tired.

And there’s not a lot he can do when he’s not even in California anymore. He feels so helpless. He’s tried making many reports, but none of them went through. He wishes people would believe him, and he wishes he could remember more. He doesn’t know why his memory is so foggy… He needs to remember, but he just can’t.

So, for a while… He gives up. He gets a stable job as a mechanic, and continues seeing his therapist. That should be the end of his story, right? Well, not quite… It’s not over yet.

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #foxy #fnaf foxy #foxy the pirate #bonnie #fnaf bonnie #bonnie the bunny #foxy x bonnie #fonnie #my writing #The Fox and The Hare #toy chica #mangle #idk what else to tag

15 notes · View notes