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septembercfawkes · 3 years

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Debunking 6 Myths about Steadfast, Flat-arc Characters

Steadfast/flat-arc characters are characters who don't drastically change their worldviews over the course of the story. In contrast, a change character will do largely a 180 flip in worldview from the beginning of the story to the end of the story.

For example, in the fable of the Little Red Hen, the Little Red Hen never changes her worldview about hard work. But in A Christmas Carol, Scrooge completely changes his worldview from the beginning of the story to the end of the story.

In the writing community, there are a lot of misconceptions of the steadfast/flat-arc character (at least from my experience), which I'm going to talk about, debunk, and clarify today in this article. This information will still be useful to writers who have no interest in writing a steadfast protagonist--because nearly every successful story features a key character who is steadfast.

irst, though, we need to visit our familiar pit stop on writing terminology. The most common term for this character is the "flat-arc" character. But it is not the only term. This character has also been called the "steadfast" character, which is what Dramatica Theory calls it. While "flat-arc" is more common, I prefer "steadfast" for a few reasons:

- It conveys that the character must struggle to hold onto something (after all, one is only "steadfast" when there is opposition)

- "Flat-arc" sorta sounds like there isn't really any growth or movement, which isn't exactly accurate.

- For much of my experience in the writing world, protagonists who don't have much of an arc have been frowned upon or treated as "lesser." The term "flat-arc" reminds me of that.

This is completely preference. You may use whichever term you want. Today, I'll be switching between the two.

Now, you can have positive and negative steadfast characters. A positive one will hold onto a true worldview throughout the story, while a negative one will hold onto an inaccurate worldview. For the sake of this article, I will be focusing on the positive one, which is more common, and may do a future article that focuses more on the negative version.

Now, let's talk about some of the misunderstandings and myths about the positive steadfast character.

My (Helpful) Personal History with Steadfast, Flat-arc Characters

Despite wanting to work in the writing industry since I was seven, I entered the writing world like anyone else: naive.

I had an idea for a story I wanted to write, with a protagonist that drew inspiration from some of my all-time favorite protagonists.

What I didn't know, and what no one could explain to me, was that all these protagonists were steadfast/flat-arc characters. And that's what I wanted to write.

I took writing classes, went to conferences, read books, and tried to soak up any piece of advice anyone could give me. But for some reason, some of the information didn't seem to work into my story or apply to the favorite stories I was drawing inspiration from.

This led to a lot of questioning and challenging of "writing rules" on my part (though that was mostly internal). I was told over and over again (if not in these words) that I needed to have a change arc protagonist. It was implied, over and over again, that protagonists who didn't have change arcs were static, simple, lacking depth and dimension, and were just boring. Of course, there was always the occasional acknowledgment that 007 or Indiana Jones were successful. But I didn't want to write 007 or Indiana Jones. I still wanted to go deep into character.

Well, over the years, I unwittingly switched my protagonist from a steadfast protagonist to a change protagonist. I've only fully realized this recently when reviewing some of those favorite protagonists from years ago.

Not to be dramatic, but I feel a little cheated and let down by the writing world because of that. Even recently I went looking for resources on steadfast/flat-arc protagonists, and frankly, found very little. And of what I did find, 95% pulled from the same source material. I mean, it's great, but we are obviously lacking with this.

I tell this story, not for therapeutic reasons (okay, let's be honest, some of it is totally therapeutic!), but because I know there is someone out there who is struggling like I was. Someone who can't get their story to work because they are trying to apply change-arc advice to a flat-arc protagonist. This doesn't work. But you can't see that, because the people you are learning from (who have sincere intentions), don't fully understand or acknowledge steadfast protagonists.

For example, a writing book that has been making waves (that I looove and definitely recommend) is Story Genius by Lisa Cron. This book is amazing! And so helpful!

If you are writing a positive change protagonist.

It will not help you nail down your steadfast protagonist. Because its principles are founded on the protagonist changing.

So if you are trying to apply it to the wrong type of protagonist, you are going to get frustrated. . . . or switch your protagonist's type.

Unfortunately, I myself have been guilty of perpetuating some inaccurate advice, but only because (like most people), I didn't know better. This also tends to happen because by far the most common protagonist type is the positive change protagonist. There are lots of resources on it. There are lots of people writing it.

But this doesn't mean that the steadfast protagonist is wrong. It actually doesn't even mean that he is boring, static, or one-dimensional, nor that he doesn't grow, struggle, doubt, or change at all. He just doesn't do a direct flip in worldview. Instead, he proves his worldview true (the thematic statement).

Let's debunk some myths I've heard in the decade or so of being in the writing world.

Myth #1: Flat-arc Characters Don't Grow

The most common myth you are likely to run into, is that steadfast characters don't grow. This is inaccurate. The steadfast character doesn't drastically change her worldview. The positive steadfast protagonist has a worldview that will be proven true by the end of the story, which creates the theme. (In contrast, a negative steadfast protagonist has a worldview that will be proven untrue.)

This doesn't mean the character doesn't grow in some way.

For example, you may have a flat-arc character who becomes more competent. Maybe he learns to become a great marksman. Or maybe she learns how to navigate law school (Legally Blonde). A steadfast protagonist can gain any kind of skill, even some that are less obvious, such as learning the art of manipulation. In Moana, Moana must learn how to sail.

You may have a steadfast character who learns to become more proactive/assertive. It's not exactly unusual for a flat-arc character to not want to get involved in the main conflict in the beginning. He may be a reluctant hero. He may need to learn to not stand by but to stand up for what he believes in, by confronting the antagonist directly. In Disney's live-action Cinderella, Ella must become more assertive to fully thwart her wicked stepmother.

A steadfast character may grow in experience and wisdom. In Wonder Woman, Diana must experience and understand the real world in order to fully wield her truth against the antagonist.

A steadfast character can grow in pretty much any way that doesn't totally flip his or her worldview.

Certainly, there are flat-arc characters who don't grow at all, like 007, and that is fine, and you can write successful characters like that. But that doesn't mean that none of them grow whatsoever.

Myth #2: Steadfast Characters' Worldviews Remain Completely Static

Explained most simply, a positive steadfast character has an accurate worldview--understands the true thematic statement--from the beginning. This doesn't necessarily mean she has a perfect understanding of it.

The character's worldview may need some refining. It may not be whole or complete. Or, as mentioned, above, it may need more wisdom (discernment) behind it.

These things can only be realized with real-world experience--in other words, the tests and trials of the middle of the story.

While this concept may overlap with the prior, it's slightly different, as not every way a steadfast character grows will be linked to his or her worldview. They may be two completely separate things. But they can also go hand in hand.

For example, while Cinderella knows kindness will help her through trials (the thematic statement), her worldview needs some refining. She must realize one shouldn't let others take advantage of that kindness. She needs to stand up and be assertive with her stepmother.

In Arrival, Louise Banks knows that communication can help us understand another perspective, which enables us to avoid confrontation. However, through the story, she gains a greater, deeper, more complete understanding of that, as she learns the heptapods' language--which has the power to unit humanity and species across time.

In Wonder Woman, Diana knows from the beginning that we should fight for the world that we believe in. However, she gains more wisdom in that regard, after experiencing the gray moral complexities of humanity--does humankind deserve a better world? Only after she comes to terms with this, is she able to embrace the true thematic statement with eyes wide open.

Sure, some steadfast characters have completely static worldviews, but many of them don't.

This concept can become all the more complex when we consider secondary themes.

First, as a quick recap, the positive steadfast character has an accurate worldview--the "truth," as some like to call it--this is also the primary thematic statement. This is the truth the story is arguing. The positive steadfast character starts the story with this.

In contrast, a positive change character will start with an inaccurate worldview--the "lie," as some like to call it--this is basically the "anti-theme"--the opposing argument to the "truth." The positive change character will change to the "truth," the accurate worldview, the true thematic statement at the end.

However, many stories have more than one theme. Many stories have secondary themes.

Because of this, it's possible for the positive steadfast character to be steadfast in the primary theme, but be a change character in the secondary theme.

For example, Diana is steadfast in the primary theme, which is the argument that we should fight for the world we believe in (as opposed to the argument that we should allow humans to suffer the world they "deserve.")

However, in the secondary theme, she is a change character. The secondary theme is about whether humankind is innately black and white or whether they are innately gray. Diana begins the story believing they are innately black and white (innately good, if not for the antagonist), but learns the truth: humankind is innately gray. This is an arc of disillusionment. This feeds into the primary arc and primary theme.

I have an article on secondary themes in the works, but it's not complete yet. For now, know this:

Many stories have multiple themes. A steadfast protagonist may or may not be steadfast for every theme (or "worldview" if you prefer). But by definition, they must be steadfast for the primary theme (obviously).

Again, more on that in the future. However, this is why you may see writers argue over whether a particular character has a change or flat arc, and why the same character may get categorized differently--it depends entirely on what thematic thread the person is pulling. One may, in fact, argue Diana is a change character, because she arcs in disillusionment, while another may argue she has a flat arc, because she believes the primary thematic statement from beginning to end.

No worries if it sounds a little confusing. In short, a positive steadfast character's view may grow or shift in some way, but it never does a 180 flip in the primary arc and theme.

Myth #3: Flat-arc Characters Always Stand Firm

Just because the steadfast character has an accurate worldview and belief system (knows the "truth"), doesn't mean she never wavers or has doubts about it.

In most flat-arc protagonist stories, the character will have her beliefs tested through the conflicts of the middle. As the antagonistic force gets stronger, the character may experience doubts and powerful temptations (which may include conflicting wants). At some point, it may even seem that her worldview might be wrong. This, along with the cost of adhering to the truth, is almost always the meat of her internal journey. If you want your steadfast character to have a rich inner journey, this is where it's at.

For other steadfast protagonists, the internal journey isn't a major plotline (like 007). This means we won't see many (if any) moments of him having a worldview struggle.

Ultimately, at the end of the story, the steadfast protagonist will hold onto her accurate belief system. This is what makes her steadfast. But that doesn't necessarily mean she never second guesses it.

Myth #4: Steadfast Characters are Simple and One-dimensional

While a steadfast character is probably more likely to be simple, they aren't necessarily. Complexity isn't strictly tied to character arc.

What makes something complex is dichotomy. It's boundaries. It's layers of identity. I talk about this in my free booklet "Core Principles of Crafting Protagonists." But I'll review briefly.

Complex characters are most easily created when we smash together seeming contradictions.

- An outlaw who is law-abiding

- A soldier who refuses to hurt anyone

- A vampire who doesn’t like drinking blood

. . . for example.

Once you’ve smashed together contrasting features within the character, the gray area can be explored to find complexity. Why would an outlaw be law-abiding? How can someone be a vampire and not like blood? (These are more obvious examples, but they prove the point.)

Complexity can also be created by considering the character's personal boundaries--what it takes for him to consider doing something he wouldn't ordinarily do. We all have thresholds when it comes to our values. For example, I may have a character who proclaims that he never lies. But when the pressure gets high, I may show him lying to save the life of a loved one. This will reveal that he cares more about his loved one's life than about always being honest. In other words, he's not as simple as he first appeared.

While within the character arc, a steadfast protagonist will largely adhere to the accurate worldview, even when the pressure kicks up, this doesn't necessarily mean she can't find herself being pressured into unusual behaviors outside of it. For example, just because Job will stick to his faith in God regardless of what is inflicted upon him, doesn't mean he won't be pushed to complaining when the trials get intense. Difficulties reveal deeper character.

Finally, a character can be made complex by differentiating layers of identity. Identity gets down to how someone is defined, and no one is defined the same way from all angles. For example, who the character thinks he is, and who he actually is, will likely be different in some way. Who he believes he is and who society believes he is may be, in fact, opposite concepts.

While these elements can feed into character arcs--or rather, The Character Arc--they don't necessarily have to. There is no reason a steadfast character can't have some complexity.

Myth #5: Flat-arc Characters don't have Ghosts/Wounds

This isn't a myth I've heard very much, but I do feel like there are some misconceptions when it comes to the positive steadfast character and ghosts/wounds.

A "ghost" is a past, significant, often traumatic event that motivates the character to adopt an inaccurate worldview (the "anti-theme" or the "lie" or the "misbelief"--depending on your preferred terminology). In the industry, this is also sometimes called a "wound." You can learn all about ghosts/wounds in my article, "Giving Your Protagonist a Ghost."

But in a positive steadfast protagonist, this is often flipped just a bit. The ghost is often a past, significant, sometimes traumatic event that motivates the character to adopt the accurate worldview (the "theme" or the "truth" if you prefer).

For example, Cinderella's mother, while on her deathbed, tells Cinderella to always be kind. This motivates Cinderella to do just that.

Of course, not every character will have a ghost addressed in the story.

For the positive steadfast protagonist, the ghost may be largely resolved.

But not always. They may not have complete closure and peace. And it's possible they are still traumatized by the event.

Sometimes adhering to what is true can be nearly as haunting as having regrets. It's just that the haunting will come from either the cost of the truth, or, a lack of power--a lack of control--during the ghost. Generally speaking anyway.

In The X-Files, Fox Mulder, in the overall story and theme, is a positive steadfast character. The ongoing theme is an argument of belief vs. disbelief. (The motifs, "I want to believe" and "The truth is out there" speak to that.) However, Mulder has an unresolved, traumatizing ghost: his little sister was abducted by aliens.

This event cements him to the thematic truth of belief and motivates him to investigate anything unnatural. But this happened at the cost of his sister.

Sometimes the trauma comes from not being able to do anything, just as Mulder was powerless to stop the abduction.

Other times it may come from not being able to stop a loved one from choosing the inaccurate worldview--the "lie," "anti-theme," or "misbelief." The steadfast character may be haunted by the outcome of someone else choosing the lie.

So, just because you are writing a steadfast character, doesn't mean she can't have a traumatizing past.

Myth #6: Steadfast Characters are Boring

I have sometimes heard writing instructors discourage students from creating steadfast characters because they are "static and uninteresting." By now, you probably can see for yourself that this doesn't check out.

In reality, any kind of character becomes boring when poorly written. Sure, steadfast characters may need to be handled a little differently (they can easily become annoying when mishandled, for example), but this doesn't mean audiences aren't invested in them. A steadfast character can be just as exciting, meaningful, inspiring, and complex as most change characters.

I mean, I don't think most of us would call Diana, Fox Mulder, Moana, or Louise Banks boring.

In the future, I'll be breaking down this largely misunderstood character type some more. I mean . . . some of us have got to do more about the lack of resources out there, right? I don't want another person who wants to write a steadfast protagonist to be "tricked" into switching it to a change one. If you want to write a steadfast protagonist, this is me giving you permission.

#writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writeblr #nanowrimo #fanfic #flat arc #steadfast #wonder woman #arrival #moana #writing reference #writing advice #character

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anonquack · 3 years

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Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot!

Word Count: 5047

Warnings: None! Just some curse words.

Summary: Breakups hurt. Confrontations hurt. Separation hurts. But when it feels like all is ending, you and Alex always find a way to make things work. [Angst -> Fluff]

After a loud plop of a box against the floor, you brought your hand up to wipe away the sweat that was now resting on your forehead. Yuck.

In an effort to avoid letting your thoughts take over and throw you into a spiral of regret and sadness, you had been cleaning and reorganizing your room. You took this moment to look around, eyes scouting every inch of the room in search for something you could've possibly missed.

The room looked almost spotless at this point. The box you had just plopped down onto the floor contained a lot of the stuff you planned on throwing away. Everything else had been dusted, thoroughly cleaned and placed back where it belonged. Looking at your organized, comfy, bed made you realize just how tired you felt at this very moment.

But there was no time to rest. Rest meant time to think about what had happened. Time to think about what had been lost.

You let out a small sigh as you walked over to the untouched part of your room; the closet. This part didn't necessarily have to be organized, since no one would come into the room and specifically open up the closet. But at this very moment, your brain was telling you to clean EVERYTHING in this room.

As soon as you opened the door to the closet, your eyes landed on an item you did not want to see right now. As your eyes continued to roam across all the clothes on the hangers, it started to dawn on you that this might've been a bad idea. Maybe cleaning closets really wasn't necessary.

There were multiple of Alex's hoodies on the hangers, all looking as comfy and cozy as ever, but at this moment they didn't bring that comfort and happiness they usually would. Rather, they brought back all those painful thoughts you'd been trying to avoid.

You gently bit at your lip, slightly frustrated since you'd been 'doing well', cleaning and trying your hardest not to let your thoughts roam.

Your stubbornness to not rest and keep cleaning had been your own demise.

You weren't really sure what to do. Part of you wanted to take one of the hoodies off its hanger, put it on, and crawl into bed. The rational part of you knew you should probably return these to him. You had no business having these in your room anymore.

That thought alone made your stomach twist and turn. It really was over. These past few days had felt like an absolute nightmare, but at the end of the day it was reality. You and Alex had actually broken up. It was all history now.

You reached into the closet, grabbing all the hoodies and placing them onto the chair near your bed. They were a problem for another time. The closet was going to be your distraction for now. You'd avoid facing reality for just a little longer as you organized the shirts and sweaters in your closet.

—

It sucked. Not having anything to do, having nothing to serve as a distraction from the fact that Alex would no longer be a part of your life. You were now sitting on your bed, playing with the strings on the hoodie, remembering how these looked on him.

They fit him so well, some fit loosely against his figure, others fit just right, showing off his toned figure. You vividly remembered how the material of the hoodie had felt whenever he wrapped his arms around you, whenever you would hug him and just snuggle your face close to him, looking for a source of heat.

The memories of how you acquired these hoodies also came flooding back. Some had been him noticing it was cold out and you lacking common sense to bring a sweater to keep yourself warm. Him pulling off the hoodie and handing it to you, the way his cheeks turned red as you thanked him, his eyes narrowing and telling you it wasn't that big of a deal.

Other times you'd directly ask to borrow his hoodie. One that smelled like him just in case he couldn't visit or hang out in the near future and you were in dying need of his affection.

You wondered whether these hoodies might still smell like him. As weird as it might've looked, you were now on your bed, bringing the hoodies up to your face and holding it close, snuggling your ex's damn hoodie to see if it still smelled like him. It was so fucking stupid. It was over.

You set the hoodie down as you felt your eyes water. Not because of sadness, but irritation towards yourself. You'd already spent days crying your eyes out over the breakup, and yet here you were again. There had been progress made already, and now it felt like you were back in square one just because of some fucking hoodies. Cloth.

You gently pinched the bridge of your nose as you took a moment to recollect your thoughts. You'd return the hoodies, and be done with him once and for all.

Picking up your phone and pressing onto his contact, your message history flashed onto the screen. Old messages were spilling all over, making a mess of you all over again. Not what you wanted at all. You'd wanted to delete his contact number and erase the messages, but hadn't been able to bring yourself to do it.

And now, once again, you were dealing with the consequences of being unable to let go. You tried to ignore the old conversations that were on display, instead pulling up the keyboard and typing up a civil message to send.

y/n found some of your hoodies at my place. mind if i give them back?

You felt an uncomfortable feeling settle in your stomach as you waited for the message to deliver, waited for any sign that he might've read it. Waited to see if he would even answer. Maybe he didn't want them back. Maybe part of you hoped you'd at least get to keep something of his, something that made your relationship with him feel real. Made it feel like it indeed happened and wasn't just a part of your imagination. Part of you didn't want it to officially come to an end.

Giving away the last thing of his you had meant officially putting an end to this. Whatever the fuck you had with him. You hadn't even noticed you were biting at your nails until the loud ding brought you back into present time.

alex sounds good. where would you want to meet?

It was starting to feel real. The split was at hand's length away. Meeting him to hand the hoodies over solidified the end.

y/n maybe the library? its near both of our dorms.

alex alright. see you in 20?

y/n yea.

Such simple discourse was already eating at you. This wasn't him. But that was to be expected. You weren't his anymore and he wasn't yours. Nothing would ever be how it was.

Even with that realization, you still looked at yourself in the mirror, checking to see if there was any signs that you'd been crying, or just you looking like shit overall. A few glances and strokes to the hair and you were ready to go, the small stack of hoodies resting on your arm as you walked out of your dorm room. To officially end things.

—

As you walked towards the library, you noticed it was rather quiet. Nobody was out and about at this time, it was peaceful. It gave you a moment to really reflect on all that had taken place. What had lead to you being here, on your way to officially cut all ties with Alex.

It had been a misunderstanding, really. Something that was going to happen eventually. Being college students with different majors and goals was challenging enough. But balancing the giant workloads and quality time with your partner had proven to be difficult for him, and perhaps even you too. There was effort being made in the beginning, but recently it had just not been the same. Perhaps things change, feelings change, but it didn't change the fact that it hurt.

After a few confrontations and harsh arguments, he had stated that he didn't want to be in a relationship if it meant that attention was required of him this often. He admitted it felt like a chore recently, having all his school work and also having you to deal with, especially when you got confrontational.

It had been heartbreaking hearing him say that you were the reason for his recent headaches and that he no longer was enjoying the aspect of a relationship. He wanted space, he wanted to have a moment where he could do absolutely nothing. Not have to worry about another individual's feelings. It was valid, and you had agreed that it would be best if you two just broke up. Clearly if you two weren't going to be happy, it was better to just end it.

You really couldn't blame or hate him. He was studying law, and you could only imagine how stressful and difficult it must be. And to have to worry about a relationship on top of that must've been hellish.

You couldn't shake off the memories though, all the great parts of your relationship. You struggled too. You had homework too, but he was the highlight of your college experience.

Even if you were drowning in homework, you knew you could waltz into Alex's dorm and just cuddle with him for a bit. You knew he would walk into your room any second of the day just to declare you two were going to take a break from studying to go eat at this place he'd found near the university. He was the light that shined brightly and took you out of the holes you dug yourself into when you worked too hard and barely had time to take care of yourself.

You thought you had the same effects on him, but instead you were draining him of energy. The hangouts and time spent wasn't a nice break for him, it was a chore. It was something he felt obligated to do.

You shook the thoughts away as you noticed the library getting closer and closer. Once you got there, you walked in and headed to where you knew he might be waiting, or where he'd know to go if you were the first to arrive.

Fortunately for you, he still wasn't here, so you simply took a seat and looked around the library. You could feel the guilt settling in your stomach. Perhaps this felt like a chore as well, having to come all the way out here to meet with you, just to get some hoodies you could've dropped off at his dorm. 0 interaction needed.

The small bell rang, notifying everyone inside that the front door had been opened. This was it. He was here. You held your breath as you waited to see Alex, if it even was him who had just gotten here.

Surely, it was. He was wearing these black sweatpants, a white baggy shirt, and his beanie that neatly tucked away the strands of hair that would usually hide his facial features. He looked good, to say the least.

You watched as his eyes scanned the room, looking for you. Once his eyes finally met yours, you felt your breath hitch in anticipation as his brown eyes finally met yours for the first time in about a week or two. It was so nice seeing him again, it felt right, but this was most likely your last time meeting with him.

You watched as he walked over to you, a small, polite smile on your lips as he came closer and closer. Once he was finally standing in front of you, a small, "Hi-" slipped out, which you instantly regretted. It sounded so pathetic.

"Hi." He replied calmly as he took the seat across from where you had been sitting.

He actually sat down. This meant he was planning on sticking around for a bit, right? If he wanted to leave right away, he would've stood, extended his hand out to show that he wanted you to hand him the hoodies. But here he was now, sitting in the chair across from you.

Usually when you two came to the library, he was seated beside you, arm wrapped around your waist as you two scanned a textbook of a shared electives class or both did your own studying. It was always so peaceful and actually allowed you to focus on what you were studying. His presence was so good for you, but it was recently made clear the feeling wasn't mutual.

Right.

You cleared your throat, not ready to hand over the hoodies just yet. "How have you been..?" You asked, trying to maintain a calm tone.

It might've been stupid to try and make conversation with him, but you were hanging on by a thread. You'd risk it, push your luck until the thread snapped and disintegrated in your own hands.

"I've been.. alright. You?" He hesitated to answer, and was currently avoiding eye contact, staring down at the table and then your hands that were placed on top of the hoodie stack.

"I've been okay. Big change to get used to." You admitted, a small chuckle escaping your lips. It was not a laughing matter at all, but you couldn't help it, especially since you were feeling rather nervous.

"It is a big change." He admitted as well, finally looking up to meet your gaze. The eye contact broke your heart. Usually looking into his brown eyes would heal any and every scar that may appear on your heart, patch up anything that may be breaking, but now it was these brown eyes that were killing you and breaking you apart.

It was now your turn to look away, settling your gaze on the strings of the hoodie, hands playing with them absent-mindedly.

The soft fabric against your finger tips reminded you why you were here in the first place, making you finally look up at him again. You were surprised to see that his gaze was already on you. Although your eyes widened slightly, you quickly brought them back to normal and cleared your throat, pushing the hoodies forward and towards him.

"Found these in my closet and figured you might want them back. They've been washed." You clarified towards the end as you watched him take hold of them.

And that's when it was official. They were now under his possession again, not yours. The hoodies were no longer yours, he was not yours. You could feel the lump forming in your throat at the thought, and figured it wasn't a good idea to be at this library for even a second longer.

You watched as he looked down at the hoodie stack that he was now holding. It seemed like there was something he wanted to say, yet was clearly holding back. It was a horrible sight to see. You knew you'd be thinking about this gaze, the words his eyes screamed, the words he failed to verbally say now. It would eat at you during late nights in the near future.

—

Now that the hoodies were in his hands, he realized just how real the breakup was. He hadn't been doing too well himself, beating himself up for reacting that way, for lashing out on you that way. For saying things he hadn't meant, and had only said because he was stressed out and in serious need of space. That was all it was.

And now here he was, sat in front of his ex, receiving the hoodies he had gladly gave them. He remembered when he handed each of these, what the occasion was and how cute you'd looked once you'd put it on. The pride that had filled his chest at the sight of you in his hoodie. How lovesick he'd felt whenever you came to his dorm with his hoodie on, when you wore it out in public and let everyone know that you were indeed taken. By Alex himself.

And now here he was. You couldn't even look at him for a few seconds without having to tear your eyes away. He wondered if you had cried just as much as he had, if you had blamed yourself or called yourself clingy, annoying, the worst of the worst because of the horrible things he had said to you. All things which he greatly regrets now.

When he had walked into the library, he'd spotted you almost instantly, sat at the table where you two would usually study, looking as cozy as ever. If he hadn't fucked up so badly, he would've walked over, wrapped his arms around you and left the softest kiss on your lips, maybe one on your jaw as well as he mumbled "hi baby," against your skin. The laugh that might've escaped your lips at his words and actions, the fact that he can't experience that anymore because he fucked up. It was killing him.

He knew that any second now, you'd stand up and walk out of his life permanently, and there'd be nothing for him to do about it. He'd already caused enough damage with the bullshit he had spewed just a week ago. He couldn't ask anything of you. Not a second chance, not a moment of your time so he could explain that he didn't want to lose you. That he had just been stressed and taken it out on you, tried to blame it all on one person rather than just taking a step back and thinking things through. Admit that he had fucked up. It would be extremely selfish of him to fuck up in the way that he did and then ask for you to forgive him. He just couldn't do it.

He wondered if you could tell how awful he'd been doing. Was it obvious that he hadn't slept? Too busy replaying the scene where he had broken your heart over and over again as he lay in bed, avoiding any and all responsibilities. When you'd reached out to him, he had been laying in bed, quickly getting out and trying to look as composed and not like he'd been feeling like absolute shit this whole past week.

But now he was sitting across from you and the hoodies were in his hands. The exchange had been successful and there was now no business for you to be here. Any second now, you'd stand up and leave him here. For real this time. He wouldn't get to see the way you smiled with your eyes, wouldn't be able to hear nor cause your wonderful laugh. Wouldn't be able to hold you close whenever he pleased, wouldn't be able to kiss you as many times as he wanted. Wouldn't be able to whisper secrets to you as you two lay in bed at 3 in the morning.

No. He had lost those privileges a week ago, as soon as those horrible words left his mouth.

The sound of you clearing your throat brought him back to his senses, along with the sound of the chair scraping against the floor. He quickly looked up, catching the words that were slipping past your lips.

"Well, now that you have your hoodies, I should probably head back to my dorm now." You said softly, an awkward smile on your lips. It was clear you weren't necessarily sure how to say goodbye. He wasn't either.

His thoughts were racing at a million miles per hour in his poor brain, your moves were almost in slow motion in front of him as he panicked and tried to figure out what to do for you to stay.

No matter how many times he had lied to himself and told himself that he would be fine with you finally walking out of his life, it was exactly that. A lie. He wasn't ready. He wouldn't ever be ready to lose such a wonderful person that had walked in and changed his life for the better. Not at least without explaining himself. Asking for a second chance, as selfish as that might've been.

As he stood to his feet, the loud scraping of the chair against the floor caught everyone around you two off guard, especially you as you almost bumped into his chest as he suddenly blocked the path with his body.

"Y/N." He said, almost breathless. Your eyes were wide in confusion at the new barricade that stood between you and the door.

"I-I'm sorry." He finally said. Even if it was just two words, he already felt much better. He wanted you to know, to know that he was indeed sorry for ever saying such horrible things to you.

The shock in your face was evident, your mouth opening and closing slightly, truly at a loss for words. He took this as a sign to continue.

"I'm sorry for the things I said to you that day. They really weren't true. I was just– so stressed and I needed to take that out on someone. And you questioning me and asking why I'd grown distant just pushed me over the edge and I snapped at you. But I didn't mean a single word I said. I love you so much, Y/N. I couldn't fucking live with myself this past week, it's been eating me alive, the fact that I said those horrible things to you. You that could never do harm, you that has helped me so much throughout the years I've known you, whether it be as a friend or as my lover." He paused, it was so clear he was suffering from a severe case of word vomit, and people were staring now.

Your eyes had softened slightly as you listened to his word vomit, but you were cautious, it was evident to him. Your stance said it all. You looked around for a bit before letting out a small sigh.

"Not here, Alex. This is a library. Why don't we go talk somewhere else?" You offered softly, gaze way softer now, almost as if you were being cautious of the state he was currently in, scared he'd fall apart any second now. He silently nodded, leading the way out of the library with you quietly following behind him.

—

Your heart was beating rapidly against your ribcage, unable to truly process what the hell had just happened. Was that real? Did it really happen? Or was this a cruel joke, and soon you'd wake up on your bed, clutching one of his hoodies tightly to your chest.

You were walking behind him as he lead the way out of the library. You replayed the words in your head, unable to grasp that he had actually apologized.

You had gotten up to leave, saying your final goodbyes to him, and that was what lead him to crack. He had stood up quickly to block your path, and had began to spill his apologies, explaining how he's been a mess and feels horrible about the things he had said. He hadn't meant it. You weren't a bother. The relationship wasn't a chore. He perhaps still wanted you.

You had mixed feelings about all of this, especially considering the pain he'd put you through this entire week. But you also were obviously not ready to throw away a relationship that had lasted this long, and that had been going so well up until last week, when he presumably accidentally took it all out on you.

You were brought back to reality as he stopped walking and turned to look at you. He had lead you two to a coffee shop, one that you two frequently visited. Not for the coffee, but for the pastries and other drinks they sold, all quite delicious and a perfect breakfast for when you both were running late.

You looked at him as he opened the door for you to walk in. As you walked in, you were immediately hit with the smell of the freshly baked pastries. He then asked if you could sit while he ordered.

It didn't take long before he was back, with the usual orders you both got from here. It was touching, and probably an effort from him to patch things up. You thanked him for the drink and delicious smelling pastry before taking a small sip, awkwardly seated as you waited for him to speak again, attempt to explain himself further.

When he realized you were just waiting on him now, he cleared his throat. "Y/N, I'm really sorry. I hope I didn't make a scene or anything at the library. It was just, kind of a desperate last minute attempt to fix things between us."

Us. Us. It left a savory taste on your tongue. It felt right. Yes, Alex, us. You and I. That's how it's supposed to be.

You shook your head, "Nono. It's not that. It just- caught me off guard obviously, and well, I didn't want you to get in trouble for speaking a bit loudly, at the library."

He smiled, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the slight teasing tone at the end of your sentence. God, you had missed his laugh so much over the past week. It always managed to cheer you up no matter how bad things were.

"So uh, I'm sorry once again, Y/N. I know what I did was shitty, I've been beating myself up for it this entire past week. And even if you don't accept this apology and you want nothing to do with me after this, I just need you to know that I could never ever mean the things I said. You mean so much to me, and I just- I fucked up big time. You're not a chore at all. In fact, you make my life better, but it just took me so long to realize just how much you've positively changed my life. I'm so sorry for being distant. It's school, I promise. It's not because I don't love you anymore or anything. It's impossible for me to not love you, I hope you know that–" He paused to take a moment to breathe. He had just dumped all of this information onto them again. But he was just so scared that you'd up and leave any second now. He had to let it all out before it even came down to that.

"It- it was a bit of an overload, regarding information." You said once you realized he was waiting for a response. "It might take me a while to think about this. I mean, what you said really hurt me, Alex." You confessed, watching as his expression saddened, it was obvious he regret it. Everything he had said. "Don't get me wrong, I still love you, so so so much. Words cannot explain." You said, hand shyly reaching out to grab his. He responded almost instantly, fingers interlacing with your own. His hands were warm, against your own. You'd missed his warmth so much, and finally having it, even if just for a few seconds was sending you over the moon.

His grip on your hand was tight, but not tight where it hurt. It was tight, as if he was trying to prove to himself that you were real, that you were really insinuating that you'd give him a second chance. And honestly? Of course you would. This man meant the absolute world to you. And you understood where he was coming from, why he'd done what he did. It didn't take away the fact that it hurt, but you understood him, and would forgive him, eventually.

"I love you too." He said softly, gaze meeting yours as he smiled softly. "Take as much time as you need. I really am sorry, I'll never stop being sorry for the horrible shit I said. But no matter the outcome, I'll accept it."

His words meant the world to you. Even if you knew you'd accept his apology soon, it still meant so much that he just wanted you to know he meant what he was saying, even if you decided to leave forever.

"Thank you, Alex." You said with a small smile, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, trying to tell yourself as well that this was real. You felt him squeeze your hand back gently as well, and smiled slightly bigger at the memory that he did this whenever he wanted to reassure you about something. You really did love this man.

The day had started off with attempts to forget the very man you were currently holding hands with, attempting to get rid of every trace he had in your life in attempts to heal, attempts to move on. But he had stopped it all. He had apologized, admitted to the horrible week he's had, admitted to his faults, and was willing to accept if you no longer wanted him in your life.

But how could you ever wish that in regards to Alex? The one that brought sunshine into your life, the one that made everything better just by being himself.

Things were going to get better from here on out. Alex apologizing and stopping either of you from leaving each other's lives was a clear sign of that. From now on, you wouldn't allow such atrocities to take place either. You two would work on this.

As you stared at Alex who sat across from you, you couldn't help but smile at the possibility of having him back. Having everything go back to normal. It was clear he was thinking the same, as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze and smiled at you so brightly, almost bright enough to leave you sunburnt. Alex was sticking around, and so were you.

Maybe you wouldn't have to give the hoodies back after all.

#alex quackity #quackity #quackity x you #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #gender neutral reader #quackity brainrot #quackity scenario #help pls #streamer #quackity headcannons #quackity imagines #breakup #but fluffy

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kozykricket · 2 years

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Phantom Revamp Idea(TM) (With Lore(TM) wow)

So, we all know the phantoms in minecraft. no one likes them (or their implementation, I should say) I think their concept is immensely cool, and could fit into the game just as well as any other monster, without forcing the player to do extra nonsense to get rid of them. To start, lets acknowledge the problem(s) -They force you to sleep frequently, or endure their pain. You could argue its a decision, but it isn’t a very deep one - you’re just deciding whether you want mild annoyance or not. Some people do not want to have to sleep the night away just to get rid of them

-Smaller problems include:

-Their hitboxes are freaking small

-They’re quite darn loud (though *I* think thats cool) So, what can we do about it? I’ve heard numerous attempts at solutions, but mine has LORE and even relates to our friend the glare... What the glare brought to my attention is the concept that mobs spawning in darkness may be canon, not just a gameplay mechanic, so thats where this idea came from, essentially What does minecraft already force you to do? Light things up for safety! So what if phantoms were an expansion on that idea, and related to light level rather than... sleepy time. Let’s say... spending time out in the dark without going near a light source for a while would decrease an invisible* comfort level of sorts, and if it was low enough, phantoms would spawn. Thats the basic premise. A trip into a cave with no caution, bravely fighting monsters without lighting the path or soothing oneself at a campfire may lead you to find phantoms preying on you. But why? Well, I like to think they materialize themselves from another sort of... plane of existence, when they think the time is right, and when their anger swells. I haven’t quite decided whether its that they believe you to be weak and start circling you, as you’ve spent time in the dark... and perhaps its easier to track down someone who spends most of their time in the dark (i would ASSUME phantoms have night vision, maybe they cant even see light very good?) Or maybe... they grow angry, angry that you’re being so reckless and foolish, or frustrated that despite you being alive and well, you’re still choosing to sacrifice the light... something they’ve lost What are they, you might ask: I have 2 interpretations Interpretation 1 (Includes glare): Long ago, when the apocalypse or whatever happened, logically whatever caused people to DIE and crap, their emotions were separated from their living bodies. Bodies turned to mindless raging zombies, but their last emotions preserved, if strong enough...

We may have Glares, embodiments of the fear and dread of being lost to the night, hiding in the little natural light the caves have to offer, seeking to help adventurers such as yourself from befalling the same fate... And Phantoms, embodiments of malice against everything that went wrong, and jealousy of those still living, still basking in the light they once knew... Which would make the glare and phantom sort of... polar opposites, in a way? but they come from the same origin, ultimately. Perhaps there could even be another creature... in that category... Anyways interpretation #2 is just that they’re pissy crows from another plane of reality that enjoy watching you suffer and prey on you when they think “yea, this nerd seems dumb” Oh, right, the actual revamp part. Got carried away with lore. So, I assume phantoms would be repelled by light, and perhaps (if possible) would only be visible to those who have a low “comfort” level (shhh this isnt a dont starve ripoff) Perhaps phantom membranes could be used to make a block that appears opaque to those who can see phantoms, but looks like glass to people who spend time in the light I think... retreating to a camp or your house for a bit and just bathing in the light for a minute would be fine. Of course, daylight also works, so sleeping WOULD still be the best solution for exploring the surface, but like... yknow. game already forces you to light stuff up. why not go into that more? Also, yes, smite works on phantoms, they are undead. I don’t know what the rules of undead vs. souls/ghosts is necessarily, considering SMITE DOESNT WORK ON GHASTS WHAT IS THIS WRENCH IN MY HEADCANON?! anyways if this gets any traction ill come back to it later, i am a phantom obsessed nerd. i love minecraft. truly one of the games of all time <3

#minecraft ideas #minecraft #minecraft headcanon #minecraft phantom #this is definitely not at all a dont starve ripoff #also gotta love how ghasts just have a lore drop in the advancements screen thanks mojang

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years

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Icy Wind. Yan Alucard x Reader

Warnings: Isolation and typical yandere elements. Word count: 1.3k. Note: this is my secret santa gift for @monstrouslyobsessed!! i was excited to see that you liked hellsing ultimate... your taste is immaculate... anyways, i really hope that you enjoy your gift! <333333

You long for a fulfilling night of sleep.

To be able and close your eyes when the moon shines above, uninhibited by troubles, no longer plagued by all-consuming anxiety. It is but a simple request, you believe. There were days where for hours on end you’d bargain for more than that. Freedom used to be the primary objective, what you believed to be your only salvation, a possibility never within reach. No longer do you aim for the stars and beyond. You’ve had to settle for what’s in front of you, a realistic goal such as a good night’s rest, and even then you’re denied it.

Blades of grass brush against your bare feet, a winter chill reducing your body to a shivering mess. Teeth chattering and body bunched over, your arms wrap around your torso in a pitiful attempt to preserve heat. It makes logical sense to return inside the manor. At least then you could sit by the fireplace to ward off the cold. Whether it’s foolishness or out of malice towards him, you’ve elected to stay out here, holding nothing but contempt for the mansion walls that serve as your prison.

Another gust of wind whistles by, biting your flushed cheeks. Barren tree branches, overgrown thickets, and dry leaves rustle underneath the wind’s intensity. Maybe it would be best to go back inside, you consider. Still, the thought of proving Alucard right is too strong a blow to your pride to concede yet. It’s a childish thing you’re doing -- even you can acknowledge that -- but what else do you have, other than to spite your captor?

He had instigated this. Tempting you by temporarily removing the locks in the rickety mansion that you’ve been forced to occupy. What had started as a late-night walk to fend off your insomnia escalated into you confronting him, belittling his possessive nature, and demanding a real opportunity at freedom. Much to your surprise and his amusement, he had relented. Or at least on a surface level. Alucard himself had swung the doors wide open, presenting you with an opportunity for time outside.

Which leads to your current predicament.

Traversing the surrounding woods at night would be a nightmare, so you’ve been passing this time outside by sitting on a moss-covered bench. The initial high from being outdoors has worn off, replaced with frigid temperatures cutting deep into your bones. You wonder if Alucard would allow you to freeze to death. Or would he intervene at the least possible second, the curse of being his lover never coming to an end. Damn him.

“So you intend to keep up this stubborn act,” a deep voice drawls, the hairs on the back of your neck standing. “Should I be impressed or insulted?”

When a person out of sight is speaking, it’s a natural response to search for where they stand. You’ve learned that this rarely works with Alucard. His voice reverberates from every conceivable location, engulfing and drowning you, a testament to his inorganic disposition.

“Do with it what you will.” Your response doesn’t sound as malicious as you wanted, weakened by your deteriorating state. It looks like your earlier guess of Alucard interfering only when your life is in danger turned out to be true. Even now, when facing an icy demise, you refuse to beg for help. He can go to hell for all I care, you think. If even hell would muster the courage to try and chain him down.

Alucard’s voice hums, a deep, guttural sound. “Was it something I said?”

Clutching your knees to your chest, you huddle together even tighter for warmth. To narrow Alucard’s grievances against you down to a single statement is impossible. He’s always had a penchant for working you up, now is no different. The wintery weather seems to have gotten worse. Every time you manage to exhale, a white cloud appears in front of your face, a further testament to the extreme temperature.

“Let’s go with that.” You rub your shaking hands together and blow air onto them.

“Strange, I thought I was doing you a favor,” Alucard’s voice swirls around you like the wind. “You did say that you wanted to go out if memory serves.”

Really? He’s out here to poke fun at you? It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but the audacity he displays is never short of amazing. Even working up an emotional response like frustration is too much at this point. Your entire body is working overtime to hold onto life. Ah, that’s strange, you think. The way your ears are ringing, an eerie, high pitched noise. Black dots appear and disappear, obscuring your vision. It’s light. Everything feels so, terribly light.

You’re not sure what happens next.

When you wake, the setting is vastly different from where you had just been. There’s warmth, that’s the first thing you notice, coming from different sources. Blankets on top of your person and a roaring fireplace. So he brought you back to your room. Groaning, you wince at how your head pounds violently, not having the necessary strength to even lift your head.

“Next time, I’d prefer it if you let me die.”

There’s no tangible evidence that Alucard is nearby, but you still say the words, uncaring if he hears them or not.

“It’d be a pitiful death,” comes his response. “Why not ask for a more memorable one?”

You sigh, knowing that answering the question will lead to more provocative remarks, but still do it anyway. “Are you telling me you’d grant it?”

“I never said that.”

“Figures.”

Exhaustion weighs heavy on your weary soul. Maybe now you’ll be granted the mercy of a good night’s rest, though you try not to get your hopes up. You see Alucard beginning to materialize into a physical form, the sight nothing new, yet you’ve never been able to get used to it. Glimmers of midnight black and deep crimson create a shadow reminiscent of a human man. Flesh forms, filling out over bone, pallid in its coloration. His typical attire of blood-colored fabrics flows into creation around his person before he finally towers over you by your bedside. Inhuman eyes pierce through your weakened form, holding no flickers of humanity.

A monster.

“And here I thought you might thank your savior for saving you from an early death,” Alucard’s voice is amused, despite the dark context. “Instead, I find you glaring at me.”

“For good reason.” You bring the blanket over your head, not wanting to see him any longer, irritation growing. Why can’t he just leave you alone? It’s a question that, when asked, serves only to perturb you further. Alucard claims each time that your little interactions are of great importance to him. Whatever that means, you think.

“You’re the only human I’ve seen fit to have pity on,” he reminds, making you frown. “Thousands have begged for what you so easily dismiss.”

Indignant, you pull the blanket down, blood boiling at his inflaming comments. “Like any of that is my fault. What did you expect me to do? Praise you to the high heavens for keeping me far away from any other living being?”

He’s smiling at your outburst as if it were an entertaining show. It’s too late, but you realize this is exactly what he wanted, to see you getting all worked up over his purposefully upsetting words. Sighing in defeat, you lay back down on the mattress and squeeze your eyes shut, fully intending to ignore anything else he sees fit to say. If he wants to play dirty, then so be it.

Alucard reaches his gloved hand out to your face, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, displaying a gentleness you thought impossible from a demon like him. It’s a featherlight touch that leaves goosebumps in its wake. Almost as if your body was attempting to reject it, aware of the heinous crimes those very hands have committed.

“Rest well, my sweet little [First].”

#Alucard #Hellsing Alucard #alucard x reader #yandere alucard #hellsing ultimate #hellsing ultimate imagines #yandere alucard hellsing #hellsing #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP Recap (January 26/2021) - Kids With Nukes and Talking Eggs

The Crimson’s influence continues to spread and corrupt the SMP, with the seeds planted earlier sprouting into new tendrils.

In fact, the Crimson has spread so far that now chat can finally hear the Egg’s whispers for themselves, as Badboyhalo and Quackity have an important discussion, and Karl attempts to prevent the worst...

Also, Snowchester’s nuclear weapons test was a success! Everything went exactly according to plan and definitely nothing else. Yep.

---

- Ponk starts sneaking out of the Egg Room, but Bad comes on and he runs back to avoid suspicion.

- Bad calls him and asks how he’s doing. Ponk says he’s doing fine. Bad asks if he can get Ponk anything. He says Ponk will stay down there until he learns to love the Egg.

Ponk: “I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me.”

- Bad says he’ll stay down for an extra day because of that.

- Ponk asks Bad for an iced mocha with cream and a pain au chocolat. Bad refuses at first, but after Ponk threatens to pee all over the Egg, Bad rushes off to get Ponk his iced mocha with cream and pain au chocolat. Ponk asks if it’s vegan.

- Bad drops Ponk his iced mocha with cream and pain au chocolat.

- Bad locks Ponk back up and says he’ll be staying down there for a day now. Ponk says he’ll continue to vibe.

- Ponk sneaks out once Bad is gone. He meets up with Awesam on the surface. Sam is still talking like he’s exhausted and drained, and says he wants to head home.

- Sam goes to be with Fran again, holding his rose with a wall blocking them off.

- Ponk shows Sam that he’s got Dream’s shield. Sam says that he probably shouldn’t carry it around, as people might get the wrong idea...Ponk says it’s cool because it makes his “head fuzzy.”

- Ponk says goodbye and leaves Sam.

- Both keycards for the nukes have gotten lost. There is no way this can end badly. Jack comes online and they begin to prepare. The plan is to launch one and decommission the others.

- Jack wonders how to get Tommy to the test site. Perhaps if some of the materials for the hotel can be obtained easiest near the site? He speaks with Awesam about adding spruce wood to the materials list. Awesam says he’ll let Sam Nook know.

- Tommy comes online and speaks with Sam Nook, who tells him to get some spruce wood. Niki comes over to fetch him. Niki leads Tommy closer to the test site.

- Jack desperately attempts to stall the launch.

- The nuke is launched! Jack and Tubbo rush over.

- Tommy manages to delay walking over to the test site purely by talking nonstop, and the nuke misses him. He instead goes to examine the crater with the others. Tubbo is concerned about Tommy’s lack of hazmat suit.

- Jack and Niki are furious that it didn’t work.

- They go back to Snowchester to celebrate. Tommy coughs up a bit of blood. Foolish comes over to deal some stress relievers.

- Sam Nook then tells Tommy to gather red dye.

- Tommy and Jack start fighting and Sam Nook comes to kill him.

- Ranboo speaks with Tubbo. Apparently the Crimson showed Tubbo images of dead families that made him cry. They wonder if they should do something about the Blood Vines.

- Ranboo writes in his book. His pickaxes have been mysteriously losing durability.

- Ranboo later speaks with Niki. He asks why she burned down L’mantree. Niki explains that she’d lost hope in L’manburg and didn’t believe it should exist anymore.

- Tommy mugs Foolish. Foolish says he’ll remember this.

- Tommy still doesn’t have enough red dye. Sam Nook is worried that Awesam won’t be pleased with him leaving the build site today. If Awesam found out, that wouldn’t be good...

- Foolish visits Ponk, who is still trapped in the obsidian Egg cage.

- Antfrost logs on and Foolish starts running up the stairs. He sneaks behind a corner and Antfrost walks by. He doesn’t seem to see Foolish.

- The Blood Vines have made their way to Foolish’s desert...

- Bad comes online with plans to introduce Callahan to the Egg. He meets up with Quackity and asks him if he’s noticed the Vines growing everywhere.

- Bad checks the Crater. Quackity sees the Crater Vines for the first time and is horrified.

- Bad asks Quackity -- he’s a chaotic individual -- what if he could join something greater than himself? Callahan as well? He asks if Quackity would either wish to be brainwashed, or voluntarily join the Eggpire. Quackity could be in charge of everything.

- Quackity says to keep talking...Bad says he would make a great leader. The Egg could be the means to the end of becoming the leader over everything.

- Ever since the whole L’manburg, fight with Dream happened, Quackity’s been wandering, taking some time off. Thinking about things. But he doesn’t like the idea of the Vines covering the entire SMP.

- Bad explains that once the Vines have covered everything, Quackity can come in as the ultimate hero, conquering the Egg and becoming the ruler of the entire Dream SMP.

Quackity asks...what’s the catch? Why wouldn’t Bad do this himself?

Bad says all he wants is to see Quackity succeed.

Bad: “You...could become the ruler of all of this.”

Quackity asks for Bad to show him a little more.

Bad: “The Egg can grant you your heart’s desires.”

Quackity: “So why do you still not have Skeppy?”

- Bad shows him around. Quackity wants to see exactly what Bad has up his sleeve, what’s really going on here. Karl follows them around in hiding.

- Bad, Quackity and Callahan jump down into the spider spawner to head to the Egg Room without Prime Suits on.

- Callahan dies on the Egg’s magma and disappears in the presence of the Egg.

- Quackity stands on the Egg and says it’s...wonderful. He feels great. A strange sensation.

The Crimson speaks.

- Karl types in chat, trying to get Quackity to leave the Egg.

- Quackity freaks out and says he needs to get out. He starts running, shouting in fear. He faces Bad in the hallway, telling him to stay back.

Bad: “Power! Power. Power...you want power, Quackity.”

...

Quackity: “Badboyhalo, there is something so very wrong with you...”

- Karl jumps into the hallway and hits Bad away.

- Quackity tells Bad to never do this to him again. Bad says everyone has to make a choice. He tried the easy way already, but Quackity’s chosen the difficult path...

- Bad comes to the Egg, frustrated. He’s trying to be nice, trying to give everybody a chance...and they’re not taking it.

The Crimson whispers to him.

- Bad thinks that maybe, letting so many Vines grow has turned people against the Crimson instead of getting them to love it.

- Bad lets Ponk out. He’s vibing. Bad gives him a pain au chocolat.

- Bad asks the Egg. What are they to do?

The Crimson whispers.

Bad says he had hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Nothing matters but the Egg...and Skeppy.

- Bad leaves the Egg. They have to check the status of Sam, deal with Tommy, and see if they can still get Quackity on their side. He can come around to them! Antfrost and Bad need to meet with Technoblade as well.

- Quackity whispers to Bad that he would like to talk. As he comes up, he spots Ranboo wandering around.

The Crimson whispers, but Bad says he “can’t deal with this one at the moment.”

Bad picks up the grass block that Ranboo left and places it in his Ender Chest...

- Bad addresses chat: have they spent enough time with the Egg that they can hear the Egg too?

- Bad meets with Quackity at Eret’s castle. As Quackity jumps a fence, he places down some purple concrete. Bad picks it up and places it in his Ender Chest as well.

- They make it into the wilderness and Quackity tries to snap Bad out of it.

Quackity: “You’re one of the only people on the server who I have a little bit of hope in! ...What the hell is going on?”

“That’s not you! That’s not you, Bad!”

Bad: “The Egg offered me exactly what I wanted!”

Quackity: “What’d the Egg give you?”

Bad: “The Egg gave it to me -- or told me that it could get it for me.”

Bad says that Skeppy got infected by the Egg, and he realized that there was no way that he could get him back to normal, so he knew he had one job: if he got infected by the Egg too, then everything would be fine.

What else could Bad have done except done what the Egg told him? All of Bad’s attempted cures just ended up messing Skeppy up more and more. He couldn’t get Skeppy back to normal on his own. The Egg said if Skeppy was red, everything would be okay.

Bad: “Everybody has something that they want. Something -- when you lose something that you’re really close to, and you’re worried that you’ve lost it for good, sometimes you’re willing to make the tough sacrifices in order to get that thing back.”

Quackity: “And what are these ‘sacrifices?’ Your other friends?”

Quackity is offended that Bad would think the only thing he wants is power. Is that all Bad sees him as? Power-hungry?

Quackity: “Bad, I wanna help you.”

The Egg has an objective, one objective. It wants something, but can’t get it on its own. It needs people to get it. That’s why the Egg needs people, at least right now.

- Bad and Quackity argue.

- Quackity says Bad is a liability. He shouts at Bad to just listen. Quackity suggests that if they find the source of power for this Egg...maybe they can use this to the ultimate well-being of everyone. Because if the Egg can control others, then...maybe they can control other people for good?

- The only person the Egg can’t control is Tommy, so he has to die.

- It’s not a specific person that the Egg can’t control, but a specific type of person.

- Bad wonders...what if he could control the Egg?

Maybe he could free Skeppy himself.

- But how could they control the Egg? Quackity says he’s thought of a different type of control. Their conversation has given him some thoughts. He says Bad can deal with his Egg stuff alone, but he’s too far gone.

- Quackity says it’s not just about gathering people. There’s power in other measures too.

Quackity: “Do you remember that room Dream had where he had everyone’s personal belongings and he essentially had full control of just about everyone, because he had control of their personal belongings?”

- Bad says Quackity’s getting in the way of what he’s trying to accomplish. Quackity says they may be trying to accomplish the same things...

Quackity: “We have the same objectives with different measures.”

- It’s time they part ways. Before they split, though, Quackity leads Bad up a hill and has him look out across the wilderness.

Quackity: “Look at all this. Remember this for a long time...all of this empty land, all of these things...that people think don’t matter, Bad? They do matter, they do matter. Picture this in your head...just never forget it, okay?”

- They leave.

Quackity: “Goodbye, Bad...good luck in whatever you’re gonna do...

And I’ll make sure to get in your way.”

- Bad returns to the SMP, thinking to himself. If the Egg can give him his friend back, then that’s good...right?

- Punz’s eyes have turned red. He’s become favorable to the Vines growing on his tower, saying he likes the feeling of chaos it brings to him.

---

The Crimson spoke with five distinct messages throughout the stream, reversed:

“I will give you your heart’s desire...I will give you what you want.”

“Kill the boy ...Tommy must die.”

“This world is mine...it belongs to me.”

“Feed me...I require nourishment.”

“I know all...I see all...I...AM...ALL...”

---

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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clearlynotjanus · 3 years

Text

Loceit Appreciation Week: Day Two, Crook/Aftermath

READ ON AO3

Chapter Summary: As the aftermath of choosing to attend Lee & Mary-Lee's wedding over Thomas' big acting break approaches, Janus extends Logan an unprecedented olive branch that results in the pair inadvertently working together.

CW: Drinking mention, very brief religion mention, philosophy Word Count: 3703 Genre: Gen, Hurt/comfort Rating: Gen Ships: Slowburn Loceit, pre-established Dukeceit, pre-established Intrulogical, slowburn intruloceit

taglist: @sanderssidesangsttrash @catalinaacosta @whatishappeningrightnow @anxiousbean4404 @vexelore @the-dead-and-the-decaying @serpentinesomebody @poptartsaysurloved @robertdownerjr @dangitsbrightinhere @iamuncomffy @sanderdarksides @evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn @dragonfander @virgilstarantula @a-rudethude @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626 @cosplayhanna @edupunkn00b @wouldntyou-liketoknow @awesomerandomgirl1 @rizzyluke @loceitweek2021

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April 13th was rapidly approaching and with each passing hour, Thomas sank deeper into denial. Indecision welled as he went back and forth on the subject matter; callback or wedding, callback or wedding, the opportunity of a lifetime or a petty social engagement -- ugh. There was nothing resolute about his choice, about Roman’s choice. It was impulsive, fueled by the short lived desire to be seen as a good person. The kicker was that, even though Thomas was beginning to see this much, it didn’t matter. He would continue burying the realization under mounds of repression while justifying his discontent every way he could manage, grasping at every straw and still coming up short.

And Janus was supposed to help him, obviously. Repression may have been Patton’s speciality at times, but lying was his jurisdiction; even and especially when those lies were told to himself -- Thomas’ self. He was expected to disregard the resentment in his heart and perform his function. Well, if Thomas could make questionable decisions, then so could Janus, and he decided that they would all find it very difficult to cope when Thomas suddenly found himself incapable of lying on the wretched day. Maybe then Janus’ argument would be taken seriously -- but that was assuming Thomas would even notice.

Stewing in these thoughts, Janus shifted in his seat. Remus, used to his malcontented fidgeting, never spared a glance, however Logan seemed to finally have had enough.

“Are you alright, Janus?” Logan asked from his position, diagonal from the other. His tone was more annoyed and straightforward than concerned. He had genuinely been interested in the show Remus had put on but found it impossible to concentrate with Janus’ excessive sighing and movement.

“I suppose,” Janus lamented, resuming his contemplative silence. Perturbed, Logan adjusted his glasses and resigned himself to sitting back.

“Well, if there’s anything to be done,” Logan offered mindlessly, allowing his sentence to trail off as his focus resumed on the television.

“Well there is one thing,” Janus seized the opportunity after a brief pause, leaning forward with a hushed tone. Logan blinked at the sudden intensity of Janus’ charm.

“And that would be?” He responded dubiously, glancing almost nervously at Remus who seemed utterly absorbed by the show, sparing no attention to either of them. Similarly, Janus opened his mouth to begin speaking, but then inhaled as he registered the fact of Remus in the room still.

“Join me in the kitchen for a moment?” Janus stood fluidly, “I think we could use a drink,” he excused the thinly veiled shift before turning and exiting for the kitchen.

Confused, Logan sat up, only then realizing how much he had leaned towards Janus in the moment. The back of his neck itched with a familiar heat and he cleared his throat.

“I guess I’ll be--” Logan started to explain but Remus quickly waved a hand and shhhh’d him aggressively. With a small smile, Logan pressed a brief kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, earning a soft sound of appreciation before standing and following after Janus.

Logan entered as Janus finished pouring a second glass of wine. Assuming the other already filled was for him, Logan accepted and rested a hip against the counter. He crossed an arm under his elbow and watched Janus cap the wine with expectation in his raised chin, but Janus didn’t start speaking until he brought the glass to his lips.

“Something’s coming, you do realize,” he said while meeting Logan’s eyes carefully, his voice low and smooth like a secret. Janus followed his sentence with a slow sip. Logan took the pause to formulate his answer.

“That depends entirely on what you mean by ‘something,’” Logan replied hesitantly, but with a loosely concealed air of knowing.

The date of Lee and Mary-Lee’s wedding was of little importance to him, though the ramifications on Thomas’ stress levels were vexing. The two were connected, obviously, Logan wasn’t so ignorant as to pretend otherwise; however, he couldn’t empathize nor sympathize with Thomas’ decision -- or Roman’s decision, rather. If providing support for his friends was truly paramount, then why was Thomas stressed? He was unable to sleep soundly despite understanding Remus’ behavior now. Similarly unable to concentrate on work, thoughtlessly picking at his food, distracted by persistent and troubling thoughts of guilt, remorse, and failure.

“But yes,” Logan shook his head, conceding. “Something is coming and we’re all bound to talk in circles again.” He sighed and took a sip that quickly turned into a gulp from his glass.

“They never do listen to you,” Janus pointed out sympathetically and Logan frowned, looking away. “That isn’t your fault, of course,” he quickly soothed the burning truth but Logan remained silent for several long moments. Before he spoke again, he brought his glass up for another long drink.

“It is true though,” Logan admitted with a sigh. It was Janus’ turn to frown. They were all so ignorant to ignore Logic of all sides. How Logan had kept his patience for this long was beyond him.

“I don’t know how to make them listen,” Logan whispered, stare unfocused across the room. “Sometimes they do but,” his shoulders deflated and he rolled his eyes back up to Janus’ face, his lips lined in resigned disappointment. “More frequently they take my lessons in the opposite direction and come up with some alternative and pointless meaning,” Exasperation leaked into his tone. Janus exhaled in the following silence.

“Well, my favor,” he started after a moment and Logan blinked up, suddenly remembering what this conversation was supposed to be about, “with that in mind, is less for me than it is for you.”

Logan’s brows creased as his eyes narrowed, not in suspicion but in confusion. He opened his mouth, intending to ask how that could possibly be, but his breath was quickly stolen by Janus’ delicate hand on his shoulder as he began to leave.

“When the time comes,” Janus whispered almost directly into Logan’s ear as he leaned in. Goosebumps raised along his arms and his stomach knotted in a way he was beginning to associate with Janus specifically. “Rely on me.”

- - - - -

Another debate spent as an observer, reduced to an annoying popup ad not even most of the audience bothered to pause for; too enthralled with the meaningless, cyclical conversation enduring above. At least Logan could console himself with the idea that some people were reading what he had to say. Thomas, at the very least, already knew everything he was saying. Logic wasn’t a feeling after all but something deeply embedded. A fact that only added fuel to the fire of frustration but that wasn’t something he was concentrating on currently.

Then Patton finally asked for his input directly. Logan already knew that Patton wouldn’t like what he had to say, but it was what Thomas needed to hear; the reality that’s been lying underneath every decision they’ve ever made. It was something Patton actively avoided thinking about. The fact was that his view and use of empathy was far more akin to pity, a feeling that only thinly veiled the nihilistic complex Morality had gotten entangled with in Thomas’ youth. “God,” “fate,” and “nothingness;” were all just terms for relinquishing control of one’s life. A habit that was clearly getting Thomas into situations that weighed on him heavily.

Logan began with reciting the source material: pity runs counter to the instincts that preserve and enhance the value of life. Friedrich Nietzche’s The Anti-Christ. A fantastic read about Nietzsche's claim that Christianity is a poisoner of western culture with its inherent apathy central to westernization. That wasn’t the first sentence nor was it the opening statement of the section he was referring to, but it was a perfectly adequate summary. However Logan didn’t even finish half of his following sentence explaining Nietzche’s philosophy before a yellow and black button appeared on his textbox. Skip all -- click. No hesitation.

No second thought.

Well, Logan did say that he was making his facts optional this time.

Something hard suddenly wrapped around his throat and the next thing Logan knew, he was being violently torn away from the scene.

Upright on his feet, he landed in a familiar place. Blinking around the shadowy corners of the Dark Side living room, Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his tie with tense hands. How unnecessarily brutal, he thought.

“Oh hey, Lolo!” Remus greeted from the couch, suddenly realizing his forced entrance. “De -- I mean Jan just left!” A pause. “Wait,” he said slowly like he suspected them of something, but when he continued, he sounded humored again. “Did he send you to babysit me while he went and fucked with the Light Sides?”

Logan sighed, shoulders deflating. “It seems that way,” He conceded, piecing different puzzle pieces together but still getting the same result as Remus. “What are you doing, then,” Logan asked in a rather flat and tired tone as he sat down next to his boyfriend, who proceeded to gush about the diagram he had been sketching for a new building in his Duchy.

Logan guessed Janus had sent him here, in proximity and obligation to Remus, rather than stewing by himself in his room in case he found himself disagreeing with how this had been handled. Which he did, but only with the execution, and not enough to stop Janus at this point. Rely on me, Janus had said a few days ago now and at the time Logan had clammed up from the situation. Janus’ lips pressed against his ear, a hand on his shoulder, wine coursing through his blood; his mind had raced with possibilities and it wasn’t until now that Logan realized what a brilliant set up it had been.

Hopefully Janus got through to the others easier than him. Historically that hadn’t been the case yet but there was a severe lack of data to infer from. Logan had many chances to convince the others of various rationale at this point. Janus had only the opportunity twice. It was only fair that Logan would rely on him then, and try not to be bitter about it. They had been getting nowhere when he was involved and the only Side Logan could blame was Patton.

Minutes ticked by before Logan detected an opening for further input. Janus struggled with his metaphor, faltered and Logic appeared. Not that any of you care, he began speaking only really to Patton and Roman, but I am unharmed. Janus reacted negatively, perhaps assuming Logan was upset with him for the intrusion -- And I don’t want to talk about it. He wasn’t upset. At least not with Janus.

His explanation ensued and in a rare occurrence, everyone listened. Whether that was due to Janus having gotten their attention focused on the issue at hand or Logan finally having a convincing argument, in the moment he wasn’t sure. However nothing really spoke to the fact that Janus was an emotionally inclined Side more than the way he reacted to Logan putting a legitimate name to his stance; Effective Altruism. His expression was full of clear fascination at being taught something, intrigue to know more, attentive listening; it was Janus’ debut discussion on the stage all over again. The first time Logan had been so explicitly asked for frequent contributions in what had felt like forever. Logan easily fell back into the comforting feeling of being heard -- before sinking out and preventing himself from witnessing anymore absurd contradictions.

After leaving of his own volition to his room, Logan fell back on his bed with a sigh and removed his glasses. Everything was very difficult, he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose; and it would always be difficult as long as Patton continued to be so frustratingly obtuse. Well, at least Janus got it, but seeing that he had an easier time getting through to the others felt bitter. It really did boil down to some … fallacy of Logic, didn’t it.

Logan lost track of time in the mire of his thoughts, at some point having opened his eyes to stare blindly at the ceiling. Everything had calmed down in the living room it seemed. Thomas was now preoccupied with his friends and the Sides were released to continue with their day. Only Logan wasn’t sure what it was he should be doing. A familiar question floated through his mind like an astringently sweet memory; was he even necessary?

“Well don’t you look comfy.”

“Janus,” Logan sat up and rushed to shove his glasses on.

“Oh sorry,” Janus whispered, gesturing with a limp wrist. “Was I interrupting? Were you experiencing an emotion? Should I leave?” Janus teased with drama in his soft voice. Logan cleared his throat.

“Considering you’re already here, no,” He stood and adjusted his tie. “Why are you here? I thought everything was taken care of.”

“It is,” Janus reassured smugly but then slowly crossed the room towards Logan, his eyes and fingertips indulgently dragging along the books lining the wall. “Are you saying I can’t visit?” He paused in front of Logan with pouting lips and a hurt expression. Standing a few inches too close, he reached a gloved hand to smooth the back of Logan’s mussed bed hair. “Check up on you?”

“I didn’t say that.” Heat overtook his face as he quickly looked away, dislodging the hand in his hair with the movement. “You can. I just wasn’t expecting you.” Janus frowned.

“I don’t know why,” he replied, quietly astounded. Didn’t they have an agreement? Why wouldn’t he come to...debrief or whatever after all that? Janus’ lips pursed in a wounded expression as he watched Logan take steps away, looking everywhere but up at him. “That’s beside the point however.” He huffed a soft sigh and tilted his head, attempting to meet Logan’s eyes. “You’re very angry, aren’t you?” He guessed. For once Logan wasn’t denying any of his emotions which was both progress and rather troublesome. The misguided assumption prompted Logan to finally acknowledge his gaze again at least. Janus thought his face was rather unreadable.

“No,” Logan shook his head, giving his own heavy sigh. “Frustrated,” he admitted like Janus was pulling his teeth.

Janus hummed with understanding, raising his chin with a nod. “Well I apologize,” He offered seriously, lifting half of his mouth in a genuine expression. “Perhaps I should’ve been a tad more explicit beforehand,” Janus shrugged shallowly, willing to admit his fault. “It did work however, so I thank you for relying on me. As ... difficult as that may have been.” Janus finished, all too aware of how manipulated Logan might feel; how artificial the moments of closeness they had together lately must suddenly seem -- and while Janus wouldn’t put that sort of thing past himself, it wasn’t true in this case.

“No,” Logan shook his head, blinking at Janus’ seriousness. “I’m not frustrated with you,” he explained slowly, diverted from his frustration for a moment in the misunderstanding.

“You’re not?” Confusion mixed with intrigue on Janus’ face. “Well, what are you frustrated with then?”

Logan rapped knuckles against his desk in thought, looking away from Janus again and down at the action. It was with pride that he regarded himself as Thomas’ language center. Words came easily to him, most of the time. Struggling to phrase things wasn’t an obstacle he faced frequently. However, more often than not, Janus made this part of his job difficult. At the same time, it wasn’t something he’d blame Janus for. It wasn’t Janus’ fault Logan thought he was captivating, distracting. Beautiful.

Logan’s knuckles went still on the desk. “As usual, I find myself frustrated with emotions.” Janus’ brow twitched; was it not just frustration he was feeling? Was there something more he couldn’t articulate? “More specifically,” Logan continued and rolled his eyes back up at Janus, “I’m frustrated with Patton, which is nothing new.”

“Ahh,” Janus breathed, the sound turning into a gentle chuckle. If he had been worried, the concern began to melt away. “Yes,” he nodded slowly, “I can easily imagine that.” Janus thought on their own interaction before his arrival here, in Logan’s room. It was ... very awkward. Patton seemed unwilling to discuss the matter further, or perhaps Janus had just been trying to beat a dead horse. “He’s very naive and difficult to communicate with.” Janus scrunched his nose.

Historically, he had an easy enough time understanding Patton. He was soft, liked to see the best in people even when he had very clear evidence not to. Patton was emotional and stubborn. There wasn’t anything too complicated about him that Janus didn’t get. It was when he attempted to employ the reverse of Patton understanding him where tragedy struck. For someone who boasted about empathy, Morality had an awful time seeing where Janus came from.

“Yes, precisely. He’s so stubborn,” Logan agreed enthusiastically. As he continued, he began to gesture wildly, speaking with his hands as much as his words to convey his growing level of frustration. “It’s incredible that you’re able to get through to him so effectively when I have been trying to do the same for years now. I mean, stubborn is a kind word for him at this point and he continues to prove that at every moral junction we come to. No, not even just moral junctions; daily undertakings and productivity suffer constantly because of his unreliability! It’s just,” Logan sputtered a humorless laugh, his hands falling hard against his thighs. “Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.”

Janus paused after Logan’s rant came to an end, cocking his head thoughtfully. In the silence Logan caught his breath with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry, I … didn’t mean to blow up on you like that,” Logan apologized, dismissively shaking his head as embarrassment knotted his stomach.

“Oh no, it’s quite alright. Actually I appreciate it,” Janus quickly snuffed out Logan’s self consciousness. The words felt genuine enough and Logan took a deep breath in an attempt to quell the rising self resentment that predictably followed his emotional expression. “I was just contemplating your words, is all,” Janus continued reassuringly, and the sentiment took Logan by surprise. Why had he assumed Janus’ silence meant dismissal of his admission? “I suppose it simply comes down to a matter of communication methods,” Janus glanced to the side in a reflective pause. “You’re a teacher,” He continued after a moment, a gentle smile on his lips as he met Logan’s eyes again. “But Patton doesn’t take very well to being told things.” Logan snorted a knowing and arid laugh, but then thought on how Janus had communicated with Patton in the past.

“You also tell him things,” Logan’s brows furrowed. “He just seems to readily listen to you.”

“Ah, there’s a difference though,” Janus wagged a flimsy finger. “I don’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know at that point in the conversation. Patton’s like … a horse that desperately needs to drink, but refuses to, even when you bring the water to him directly. In such a case, you need to lead the horse to the water. But how do you get him there? Well, in Patton’s case, asking him questions that in turn make him question his own motives tends to work.”

“Ah, the Socratic method,” Logan interrupted as Janus paused.

“Exactly,” He nodded before continuing, “But more importantly, I hear his justifications. I try to see where he’s coming from so I can...clear a path, so to say, from his point A to wherever my point is.” Logan hummed thoughtfully and marveled at the amount of consideration Janus put into his communication with Patton.

It was admirable and Logan found himself agreeing, once again, with the many flattering adjectives Remus has used for his partner in the past. Graceful, patient, and ridiculously smart. His current explanation made a lot of sense, and Logan felt a bit stupid. He chuckled dryly and looked down, adjusting his glasses. Janus cocked his head, expression perplexed with raised brows.

“Did I say something funny?”

“No,” Logan sighed, “The opposite. You made a great point and I was wondering how I had never thought of that myself.” He admitted with an impressive amount of vulnerability. While the compliment felt nice, mostly Janus was now smiling with pride in Logan’s new found understanding and the handful of walls he had dropped in the process.

“Sometimes,” Janus sighed with a smile, approaching Logan as he had earlier; with steps that placed him just a little too close. “You just need some perspective.” He reached up with both hands and flattened Logan’s collar affectionately, the unexpected gesture making him inhale briskly. “I mean, we all do,” Janus continued, resting his fingers gently against Logan’s collar bones. “Not just you, of course.”

“Of course,” Logan repeated in a whisper that was more breath than words. Having Janus this close, he suddenly felt whatever intelligible response he may have had evaporate on his tongue as a heat quickly consumed his neck all the way to his cheeks.

Janus’ smile twitched wider as he lingered, mischievous amusement sparkling in his eyes. Logan was so easy to rile up; even with a foot between them right now, Janus could feel the attraction rolling off him like heat off concrete in the summer. If he continued to stand here, what would Logan do?

“How are you feeling now?” Janus asked after a silent moment. Under his hands, he could feel Logan’s heart rate pick up.

“Fine,” Logan answered automatically, the word cracking indecently. He cleared his throat which marginally brought his senses back. “Fine,” He repeated, shaking his head with a small smile. Janus thought the expression seemed a little forced.

“Good,” Janus nodded shallowly and paused for another beat before turning away, leaving the air around Logan significantly easier to breathe. “Well, if you need anything else,” Janus’ voice trailed off as he twisted the doorknob with one hand and raised another to delicately wave his fingers goodbye.

When his door clicked shut, Logan fell heavily back on his bed again with a groan that ended in a sigh.

Chapter One || Chapter Three

#loceit appreciation week #loceit week #loceitweek2021 #loceit #janus x logan #sanders sides fanfiction

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everamazingfe · 3 years

Text

A Close Shave

Fic Summary: After being picked up by the Urania and brought back to the Hephaestus station, Communications Officer Doug Eiffel tries to come to terms with his new look. It doesn’t go well. Luckily, Jacobi comes along to save the day.

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Words in this fic: 2082 Pairings: Doug Eiffel/Daniel Jacobi Warnings for this fic: Brief mentions of abuse

Notes: I got into Wolf 359 at the start of this year, and after relistening to it recently I decided to start writing some fics. I was pretty nervous about posting this, but I couldn't keep it in my drafts forever, so here it is! There’s also a link to this fic over on A O 3 as the source of this post! Click it to go read it over there, or you can search up the title or ‘everamazingfe’ on the site.

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There was something about him, Eiffel had decided within the first few seconds of seeing him for the first time. His face was mostly blank unless he had some sly comment to say, some sarcastic remark, and then that stony expression was replaced by something cockier, more smug. Sometimes there was a flash of softness to it, usually when Maxwell was speaking. But even when his face was at its blankest, there was a mischievous gleam in those bright green eyes of his.

Eiffel had never really noticed anyone’s eyes before. He didn’t know Minkowski’s eye color, or Lovelace’s for that matter. Hell, Eiffel didn’t even know if he knew his own eye color at this point, he avoided looking in mirrors at all costs. But for some reason, he’d noticed Jacobi’s. Not only had he noticed it, but he had committed it to memory as well.

For a moment, he was convinced he could picture them clearly as he stared out the window above his comms panel, making eye contact with them in the reflection of the glass. Somehow, he was able to picture his face with perfect clarity too, despite only seeing it a handful of times while he was in sound mind.

“Feel good to be home?” The Jacobi that Eiffel thought he was picturing in his mind so clearly spoke, startling him out of his trance and making him jump because it wasn’t his imagination, it was the real deal. It made sense, he’d never had a very visual imagination anyway, but there was always hope for a change of mind. “Wow, I didn’t think I was all that scary, Officer Eiffel.”

“You’re not,” he grumbled with a huff of indignation, grabbing the edge of his station and pulling himself back to it, hooking his knees beneath it to keep himself there. “I just… Got lost in thought.”

“You? Capable of thought? Now that’s something that wasn’t included in your file.” There it was, that stupid sly grin that Jacobi always had when he thought he was being oh-so-clever. Usually, he was. But that joke had become played out within the first month on the station.

Eiffel responded with mock laughter, trying to ignore the way that comment made an invisible knife twist in his chest. After all he’d done, no one thought he was good at anything. What a surprise. But he didn’t have time to unpack all of that right then. “Get some new material, I’ve heard it all before,” he drawled, hoping he looked as bored as he sounded. “I’m a slacker, I’m an idiot, I’m a motormouth. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Your shoe’s untied.”

Maybe there was some truth to one of those three things, because like the idiot he was, Eiffel had that brief moment of panic everyone had when someone told them that their shoe was untied, or their fly was down, or there was something on their shirt. And because of that panic, he looked down. It had completely slipped his mind that he hadn’t even worn shoes in the two (Three? Did those hundred days hurtling through space count? He didn’t know.) years he had been on the Hephaestus. “Oh, goddammit!” He groaned as he stared down at his socked feet in dismay, trying to tune out the cackling laughter Jacobi let out behind him that sent him halfway across the room.

“You’re also gullible, apparently!” He let himself continue his path across the room so he could push off the back wall, still in a fit of giggles as he sailed back to the console. “You actually fell for it! I can’t believe it! I’ve never gotten anyone with that before.” Jacobi’s grin was bigger than it had ever been, and he wiped the tears from his eyes before they wreaked havoc on the station’s internal systems. Maxwell was too smart to fall for a simple trick like that, and Kepler… Well, Kepler didn’t like being pranked.

Eiffel grumbled something incoherently, waiting patiently for Jacobi to get over himself before he spoke again. “Was there a real reason you came down here?”

“No, not really. Kepler’s giving Minkowski an orientation for her new role and then he needed to discuss… something with Hilbert, I don’t even wanna know. And Ala- Maxwell’s busy with Hera. So, I was bored.”

“What about Lovelace?”

“Dunno. Didn’t ask. Didn’t care.”

“Right… So you came to interrupt my very important work?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you.” Jacobi made himself comfortable, lounging in the free-floating bliss that was zero-g as Eiffel pretended to look busy, though his eyes were fixed on the reflection of the man in the glass. The bright light of Wolf 359 backlit him beautifully, and the color in the star seemed to desaturate everything else in the reflection, except for those damn eyes.

Eiffel let out a sigh, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair, his fingers brushing through the empty space where his long curls used to be. He let out a frustrated growl, moving his hand up to his scalp. The little hair that was left was scraggly and damaged as hell. It was coarse and patchy, and it scratched his hand uncomfortably when he ran his hand over it. “Actually. I have an idea of something we can do.” He turned around to look at the real Jacobi, who arched an eyebrow in silent encouragement for him to go on. “Come with me.”

He’d had his head shaved a handful of times, and it was usually under duress. The first time was as a punishment for getting gum stuck in it, even though he hadn’t been the one to put gum there, and it would’ve been much easier to just cut the chunk out rather than shave his whole head. The second time had been when he’d joined the military. This would make number three, but this time it was necessary, despite the fact that his goal had really been to never cut his hair again. All that length had meant a lot to him, it meant that he had control over something in his life, finally, but the cryofreeze had, apparently, had other plans for it.

Additionally, most of the shaving kits, particularly their razors, had been dismantled for Minkowski’s crusade against Blessie. God only knew where all of those had ended up, or if they were still even on the station, but he knew there was one that was still safely tucked away.

“Wow, Eiffel. I thought you would’ve liked to wine and dine your dates before bringing them home. You always struck me as more of a gentleman than that.”

“Shut up.” He rooted around in his locker, letting various pieces of uniform and whatever else had been shoved in there float freely around them as he did so. Most of it was contraband that he should’ve been more careful about getting seen, but he was too focused. Once he found the kit, he let out a soft, ‘a ha!’ And underhand tossed it to Jacobi. “You’re shaving my head.”

For once, Jacobi didn’t have some sort of sarcastic remark to make in response. He was just confused. “Sorry?”

“I can’t… I can’t stand it being like this. I can’t. And it’ll never grow back right with the ends this damaged, and I don’t really feel like cutting myself a thousand times in the process. So you’re doing it for me.” He tried to make his voice sound commanding, authoritative, but instead he just sounded desperate, irritated, upset. His hair meant so much to him, but he could stand to be without it for a little bit. He’d done it before, he could do it again. What he couldn’t stand was the sorry excuse for hair that he’d been left with.

“You don’t think I’d use the razor to kill you? It’d be the perfect opportunity.”

“If you wanted to kill me, you could’ve done it back on the Urania when I was half dead.”

“You hadn’t annoyed me as much back then.”

“I mean, if you really want to, I guess you can, but… I’d really just like my head shaved, please.”

A dramatic sigh filled the silence, and then: “Ugh, fine. But you owe me.”

That was good enough for Eiffel, and he trailed along behind Jacobi to the Hephaestus’ bathroom. Gravity was a little different in there, as in it was actually present in order to make showering and other general acts of hygiene (that Eiffel didn’t really partake in) a little easier. So he was able to sit on the counter and stare their reflections down as Jacobi stood behind him, setting the kit beside him on the counter.

Jacobi wasn’t a friend, not by a longshot. In Minkowski’s book, he was part of ‘the enemy.’ But they’d spent a decent amount of time together after he’d been picked up by the Urania, and even a little bit of time before that over the comms. Someone had to keep in touch with him and keep up-to-date on his coordinates so the ship could get a lock on his location, and Kepler had felt like that work was beneath the highly intellectual minds of himself and Maxwell, so it had fallen to Jacobi. And Eiffel hadn’t minded, because beneath all the smart remarks, the guy was alright to talk to. A little stilted, maybe, but that wasn’t anything he couldn’t work with. It was better on the Urania. Easier, at least, because Jacobi’s body language did a lot of the talking for him. Once again, helping Eiffel was deemed grunt work, so Jacobi had been the one stuck tending to his wounds, helping him get around when he was too weak to even keep his eyes open, and adjust to eating again after not doing it for a hundred days (though with all of the substitutes for rations Hilbert dared to call food, one could argue it had been even longer since he’d really eaten).

Long story short, Eiffel liked Jacobi to some degree. The guy was alright in his book, and he was sure the feeling was mutual, because he could’ve easily said no, or done a hackjob of it, or killed him. But instead, he took his time and made sure that he didn’t miss any spots, his other hand resting gently on Eiffel’s head to keep it steady despite all the fidgeting.

After the first pass, Eiffel moved to get off the counter, to turn around and thank Jacobi, but a firm hand on his shoulder pushed him back down.

“I gotta go again, make sure I didn’t miss a spot. It looked awful before, but it’ll look even worse if there’s just a tiny patch with a few hairs left.”

Eiffel furrowed his eyebrows together, but nodded and got comfortable again. As comfortable as he could, at least. His ass was already numb and the feeling was starting to spread down to his legs, but hopefully the second pass would go quicker.

And it did, kind of. Jacobi didn’t need to clean the hair from the razor as often because there was barely any left, but he still took that same slow and gentle care as he had the first time. When he was done, he wiped off the leftover shaving cream with a nearby towel, smiling genuinely as Eiffel lifted a hand to feel over his scalp. “Well? How does it feel?”

“It feels great,” he answered earnestly, laughing in relief. He didn’t hate the way his reflection looked anymore, and now he could actually believe everyone when they told him to pull it together because it would grow back eventually. Hopefully this made the process easier. His eyes drifted to Jacobi’s in the mirror, mirroring that same smile. “Thank you... I really do owe you.”

“Yeah, you do.” The genuine smile faded to his usual cocky grin, and Eiffel threw the towel at him. It hit him square in the face, but it didn’t wipe away that look. “But… You’re welcome.” He offered him a hand to help him off the counter, steadying him with a chuckle when he nearly lost his balance. “Gravity that hard on you, Doug?”

“No! It’s just… That counter was not very comfortable to sit for that long on. And yeah, I guess gravity’s pretty hard to adjust to too.”

“Well then we’d better get you back to the lazy embrace of zero-g.”

#wolf 359 #w359 #daniel jacobi #doug eiffel #jacoffel #fic #my fic #my writing #everamazingfe #mini episode #oneshot

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baepsaesbae · 4 years

Text

Heal Me, Kill Me Ch.1

Pairing— Kim Namjoon x reader (only in this chapter), Kim Taehyung x reader (main focus) ft. Yoongi

Genre— Vampire!Taehyung x Vampire Hunter!y/n, ANGST, smut +18, comedy (i tried)

Warnings— Death, violence, oral (f receiving), fingering, explicit unprotexted sex

Word Count— 7.6k

Summary— You’re one of the best vampire hunters in the world. That's to be expected when your parents are the best of the best. Your life had solely revolved around ruthlessly killing vampires. You were essentially a cold blooded machine. However, things take a turn once you meet Kim Taehyung, your latest target.

A/N— Huge shoutout to @dee-ehn for this beautiful banner! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think!

You didn’t choose this life. You had no past trauma that spurred you on to take this path. Most vampire hunters became hunters because a loved one was murdered and they wanted revenge or some bullshit like that. Not you though.

You were born into this lifestyle. Your parents were allegedly the best hunting team in history. They were usually too busy with work, so you were practically raised by the faction itself. The grandmaster of the Vampyre Extermination Company (VEC for short) was your main parental figure.

While normal children went to school, you were being trained in combat. The only lessons you had were those pertaining to vampires. You knew everything there was to know about them. Being the youngest member of the company, it was clear that you were a prodigy.

By the age of 13, you had already killed 5 vampires. Most seasoned hunters only kill 5 in their entire lifetimes. You were incredibly smart, and used your youth to your advantage.

That was ten years ago. You had lost track of your kill count (not that it matters, it’s officially documented somewhere). You were now the youngest person ever to achieve the Expert Hunter title.

None of that fancy stuff matters to you. You get assigned a job, and you do it. That’s all it was. In fact, you were on a job at this very moment.

You were all dolled up sitting at the bar of a very busy nightclub, with a drink that you had no intention of drinking. Your assignment had been spotted frequenting this club quite often. He preyed on young women (as most of them do) and many of them had gone missing from this location.

You had on the skimpiest dress you could find. Its low cut neckline coupled with a push-up bra had your breasts nearly spilling out of the dress. Its tight material clung to your body to reveal your curves. You absolutely hated it.

“Why are you alone, pretty girl?” a drunk man stumbled up to you. He definitely wasn’t your target.

“I’m waiting for someone to kill,” you replied nonchalantly.

“To kill? That sounds kind of scary,” he put his hand on your waist.

You grabbed his wrist and twisted it, causing the man to cry out in agony.

“I don’t have time to waste on you. Get out of my sight or else I’ll break your wrist,” you warned with cold indifference.

The man scampered away as soon as you released him. You refocused your attention on the crowded dance floor. It’s possible that the vampire would smoothly dance with a girl before luring her to her doom.

You began to sigh in frustration when there was no sign of your target. Suddenly, the room’s temperature dropped. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, and goosebumps covered your body.

He had arrived.

There was no doubt about it. You felt a malevolent presence as soon as he entered the buidling. Your eyes scanned the club again, in search of the source. Finally, you found him.

There was a tall handsome man standing in front of the dance floor, surveying it as intensely as you were surveying him. He glanced your way, causing you to freeze up. When your eyes met, you shot him a coy smile, and turned to your drink.

Hopefully that was enough to pique his interest. You debated on whether you should sip your drink or not, to make you appear more vulnerable. It didn’t take long before a deep voice rang in your ear.

“Are you waiting on someone?” a seductive voice asked.

You could already tell he was using his charms. One of a vampire’s many tricks was their gift of persuasion and seduction. Supernatural powers were involved, of course, but their good looks helped seal the deal.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” you replied before sipping your drink.

“If you were, you probably wouldn’t have smiled my way,” the man took a seat beside you.

“Ah, you got me there. You’re a sharp one huh?” you smiled.

“In more ways than one, dear,” the man chuckled before extending a hand, “I’m Namjoon. Pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m ___. The pleasure is all mine,” you shake his hand, taking note of how eerily cold it was. This was definitely him.

The night went on with playful flirting and shallow attempts at getting to know each other. You were well aware that everything both you and Namjoon said was a lie. Namjoon insisted on ordering you a drink after you finished the first one but you politely declined, saying you’ve had more than enough for one night (another blatant lie).

Namjoon finally made his move. He leaned over to you and kissed your exposed shoulder.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asked. You could feel how heavily laced his words were with mystical persuasion.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you kissed his cheek.

It wasn’t hard to flirt when your target was so attractive. In fact, that’s how most of your hunts have gone ever since you got older. You’d seduce them into letting their guard down, and kill them when they weren’t paying attention. It was a slight perk that vampires were much better at fucking than humans, but you were willing to keep that information private.

Back at Namjoon’s apartment, he wasted no time getting you undressed. You were passionately making out with him on his bed when reached down to palm his clothed erection. Namjoon released a guttural moan.

“So impatient,” he chuckled, kissing down your throat.

His hands wandered down between your thighs, rubbing your clit. He kissed his way down your stomach, pausing before your heat. He delicately flicked his tongue down your folds. You bucked your hips up, begging for more. Namjoon slid in his long slender fingers while his tongue worked your clit.

He expertly curved his fingers into you, hitting that special spot perfectly. His intensity picked up, causing your cries to get louder. He held you down as you started to squirm beneath him. He sucked on your clit as he rapidly pumped in and out of you.

You came without a warning, your body shaking from the impact. Namjoon licked up all of your juices. Your chest was heaving as Namjoon kissed a trail back up to your lips. His eyes were darkened with a dangerous hunger you were all too familiar with.

Going any further would be dangerous, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was too alluring to resist, plus your motto was that there’s no harm in having a little fun. A satisfied smile crept across your face after you tugged off his bottoms. His dick was just as big as you imagined, and you needed it inside of you immediately.

You immediately straddled Namjoon, lips still locked as you lowered yourself onto him. You moaned into his mouth as he filled you completely. Your hips moved on their own accord, leaving you no choice but to enjoy the ride. Namjoon let you take the lead, enjoying an unfamiliar balance of power in the bedroom. His hands rested on your hips as you rocked back and forth.

“You’re so hot. I could stay like this forever,” Namjoon praised.

“Have you ever been tied up before?” you asked before kissing his ear. As much as you wanted the night to continue, you knew Namjoon was at his limit. Endorphins were high, right now would be the perfect time to devour you.

“No, I haven’t. I’m usually the one doing the tying. But I’m always willing to try something new,” Namjoon smirked.

“Wait here then. And close your eyes!” you giggled.

Your legs were wobbly as you made your way to your discarded bag. You were delighted when you reentered the bedroom to find Namjoon still closing his eyes.

“Good boy,” you cooed while taking out silver chains.

“Are those chains I hear?” Namjoon sounded excited.

“Yes, I’m gonna chain you up real good. You’ve been a bad boy,” you whispered into his ear. Namjoon groaned, and you noticed his cock twitch.

With impossibly quick motions, you wrapped the chains around Namjoon’s wrists. The silver burned his skin upon impact. There was no need to chain up his legs, as the silver severely weakened him. He tried to wiggle free of the chain but it was no use. His eyes darted open to see you smiling down at him.

“There’s no use in struggling, Namjoon. These chains are pure silver and are anointed with holy water for extra measure. I am ___, from the Vampyre Extermination Company. You have been found guilty of numerous kidnappings and murders,” you say as you take out a wooden stake.

“Fuck you, you bitch!” Namjoon spat at you, fully baring his fangs.

“That’s not very nice, dear. You were so sweet to me before. Well, before you were going to kill me of course,” you laughed as if it were a joke, “Thank you for showing me a good time. May your soul rest easy in the next life.”

Namjoon bared his fangs at you while you plunged the stake into his chest. Blood gushed out of his wound. Cries of agony filled the room. A few moments later, Namjoon’s body turned to dust. The job was complete.

You made a call while getting dressed. Your clothes were soaked with blood, but that was nothing new.

“Hi, I’m gonna need a clean up crew at this address. Nothing super messy, just burn the bed I guess. Yeah, the mess was pretty much contained. Mhm. Yeah. Ok thank you,” you say curtly.

Back in your hotel room, you rewarded yourself with a bubble bath (after a shower of course). With most of the blood scrubbed off, you relaxed in the fragrant water. You had a habit of reflecting on your life after every job.

Was your life ever going to be normal? Probably not.

Were you going to die on one of your jobs? Probably.

Do you enjoy your job/life? Maybe? You couldn’t tell.

You did acknowledge that you loved the thrill of the hunt. You enjoyed acting weak and innocent, only to violently kill your targets. The sex and stuff was a nice bonus too. You were taught that vampires prefer to ‘wine and dine’ their prey. Apparently happy people make for happy meals. Due to this, it’s quite common for vampires to seduce their victims before devouring them.

‘Do vampires make other vampires?’ you asked when you were a child.

‘Yes. But they rarely do that because they are solitary creatures. Also, only the strongest vampires can turn humans since it drains their own life force tremendously,’ was the answer.

You got an assignment about once every month. During the time that you don’t have anyone to kill, you enjoyed traveling. The VEC pays handsomely. You never understood where all the money came from, until you were told that the deceased vampires’ assets get transferred to the VEC. How that happens, you had no clue. But it doesn’t matter; you get paid well enough to travel wherever you wanted to at a moment’s notice.

You perused the internet for flights to France. You’ve been craving macarons lately. You were about to buy a ticket when your phone rang. You groaned when you saw the VEC caller ID.

“Hello?” you answered.

“___. I need you to come down to HQ immediately.”

“Grandmaster?” your eyes widened. You never got a direct call from him. Whatever this was, it must be urgent.

He hung up as soon as he delivered the message. Typical. He’s a very straight to the point kind of guy.

There goes the rest of your relaxing evening. You packed up all of your belongings. A driver was already waiting for you in the lobby. Again, you had no idea how the VEC can be so quick and efficient, but you’re thankful for it regardless.

The car brought you to a private airport, in which a jet was already ready for you.

‘This must actually be serious,’ you thought. The VEC was boujee, as they usually flew you out first class, but the private jet is a first.

Within a few hours, you had finally arrived at HQ. You were greeted warmly upon entrance. After a quick congratulations on another successful job, you were escorted to the Grandmaster’s office.

“___. Please take a seat,” the grandmaster said as he paced back and forth.

“Is everything okay, Yoongi?” you asked. You always dropped the formalities when you were alone together. This man had been more of a parent to you than your actual parents, with whom you only had fleeting encounters with.

“It’s your parents. ___, I’m so sorry. They were killed on a hunt,” Yoongi placed a firm grip on your shoulder.

You silently processed the news. More than anything, you felt shocked. Shocked, because they were supposed to be the best hunters in the world. Shocked, because you felt nothing. You felt no sadness, no anger. You were so detached from your parents, they might as well have been strangers.

Yoongi on the other hand, looked like he was about to break down. He had known your parents for a long time. They were practically family to him, just like you.

You get up to embrace Yoongi in a long hug. You seldom showed true acts of affection, but this was as genuine as it gets. More than anything, you felt sad for Yoongi. You couldn’t fathom what he felt. You couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose a loved one, mostly due to the fact that you didn’t have any loved ones. Yoongi may have been the closest thing to it.

You helped sit Yoongi down. After he was seated, you poured him a drink. Lord knows he needed it.

“Did their target kill them?” you asked, breaking the heavy silence.

“Yes. Their bodies were drained and left out in a field. I began to think the worst when your parents failed to make two check in calls in a row,” Yoongi took a swig of his drink.

“Their target must be pretty powerful…” your voice trailed off.

“He is. I knew he was strong, but taking out our two best? Inconceivable,” Yoongi scoffed, “I’m gonna kill the bastard with my own hands, I swear to God--”

“I’ll go,” you interrupted.

“You?” Yoongi blinked, “Absolutely not. I already lost your parents, I can’t lose you too--”

“You haven’t been in the field for years. A male vampire would never trust you, so you would have to resort to immediate violence. If he took out both of my parents, then his physical strength must be no joke,” you stated the facts.

Yoongi looked at you dumbfounded before taking another long sip of his drink.

“Fine. But I’ll go with you--”

“No, you won’t. Your presence will blow my cover.”

“I can stay in the next town over.”

“Just to snoop around and fuck up my hunt? No thanks.”

“God, you’re so fucking stubborn, kid. How about this? Give me a night to concoct a safe alibi for you. I get to plan out how your first encounter with him goes. You can choose to kill him on the spot, or go for your usual route,” Yoongi raised his eyebrows as he said the last bit.

“Works for me. I’m pretty sure I can’t suddenly kill him without the element of surprise and a shit ton of luck.”

“You’re willing to seduce your parents’ murderer?” Yoongi couldn’t hide the concern in his voice.

“This is just another job to me. A job is a job. Don’t let your personal feelings get in the way. That’s what you’ve always preached to me,” you shrugged.

That was Yoongi’s last straw. He pulled you in for a tight hug as a single tear rolled down his cheek. He kissed the top of your head.

“I’m truly sorry, ___. I never should have let you into this world. Your parents insisted that I train you. I should have refused, and let you live a normal life,” Yoongi apologized.

“Yoongi, you did nothing wrong. I’m perfectly fine the way I am. Believe it or not, I’ve probably saved a lot of people from becoming someone’s midnight snack,” you try to lighten the mood.

“I just worry about you, you know? It’s almost as if you’re my own kid,” Yoongi sighed, finally letting go of you, “Come back here tomorrow morning at 10am. I’ll have your assignment by then.”

“Please get some sleep, Yoongi,” you squeezed his hand.

“I can’t sleep. Not like this. To be honest, I’m afraid that I’ll dream about your parents,” Yoongi admitted.

Noticing that you didn’t know how to respond, he quickly dismissed what he said.

“I think the alcohol is getting to me. Don’t mind me. Go to sleep, kiddo,” he patted your head.

You excused yourself and headed to your room. Your new target has sparked intrigue. You were in awe at how powerful he must be. You concluded that he must be clever. Your parents knew every trick in the book. They knew how to hunt and kill every and any type of vampire. At least, you thought they did.

You drifted off to sleep. Your last thoughts lingered on the vampire who killed your parents.

That night, you had a strange dream.

You felt trapped. You couldn’t move your body. All of a sudden, you were freezing. The sound of water surrounded you. Everything was pitch black, and soon, it was getting harder to breathe.

“I loved you” you heard a muffled voice say.

You woke up in a cold sweat. What the hell was that? You couldn’t remember the last time you had a nightmare. You weren’t even sure if that could be classified as a nightmare. After getting up to drink some water, you went back to sleep without giving it a second thought.

“Yoongi, this is literally the worst cover you’ve ever made,” you admitted as you examined the file he handed you.

“I worked on it all night! I believe it’s foolproof,” Yoongi argued.

The bags under his eyes got impossibly darker, hinting at the fact that he probably did work on it all night. Upon realizing this, you decided to tone down your criticism.

“Maybe it could work. I’m just worried that I won’t be able to play the part,” you stated.

“I feel like this role is more natural than just being a flirt. But, of course, I could be mistaken,” Yoongi gave you a disapproving glance.

“Okay whatever. Yes, I’ll make it work,” you rolled your eyes.

You were flown out to the target’s town the next day. Your living arrangement had already been prepared. You found yourself settling into a small cottage surrounded by a forest. It looked like something out of a fairytale.

It was oddly freeing being able to go on a mission in normal clothes. There was no need for revealing and uncomfortable clothing. You didn’t have to beat your face with makeup or worry about how your hair looks. Yoongi emphasized the importance of being plain. You needed to be someone who could easily sneak up on the target.

So, with a regular t-shirt and jeans topped with a jacket, you made your drive to the target’s location. Even though Yoongi’s plan was less extreme than you’re used to, the possibility of it taking a turn for the worse was still present. After all, this was the monster who murdered your parents. You couldn’t afford to let your guard down. You took a deep breath. It was now or never.

You pulled up to an impressive mansion. From what you could tell, there were no neighbors for miles. The house looked like something from a horror movie. The yard was overgrown, and the building was decrepit.

There was a large fountain in the middle of the front courtyard. Unfortunately, the fountain had been neglected. The water was filthy and the statues were covered in moss, making them unidentifiable.

Now standing in front of a grand, or rather, once grand front door, you mustered up the strength to knock. You firmly knocked on the door three times. A minute passed, and you couldn’t hear anything from inside.

You tried again, knocking harder and for a bit longer. There was still no reply for a couple of minutes. You began to think maybe he had left. Or maybe he was so weary of strangers that you’d have to force your way in.

You tried a third time. You were about to yell, ‘Hello? Is anyone home?’, but the door slowly opened.

From behind it, peered out the most beautiful being you’ve ever seen in your life. He was so effortlessly stunning that you forgot why you were there for a second. A tall man with dark hair gave you a quizzical look.

“Can I help you?” his deep voice vibrated.

“Hi! I have a flower delivery for a Mr. Tom Davis?” you presented an extravagant bouquet of flowers to him.

“Sorry, you have the wrong house. Which is an incredible mistake, as I don’t have any neighbors remotely close by,” the man was still standing cautiously behind the door.

If you couldn’t lure him out, it would be damn near impossible to kill him like this. On the other hand, you weren’t too eager to try and have him invite you in.

“What really?” you glanced at the address, then dropped your jaw in surprise, “Oh my god, you’re right. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience! My first delivery, and I already botched it,” you began to mumble as you turned back to your car.

This was a calculated mistake, of course. This was all a ploy to make you seem naive and vulnerable, just in a more innocent way than you’re used to.

“Do you need help with directions?” the man called out to you. You smiled, this is just what you’d been waiting for. If you could just catch him off guard, you could easily lop off his head with the silver short sword hidden in your jacket.

“That would be awesome!” you spun around happily.

You walked back up the steps and approached him before he held his hand out.

“Stop right there,” he commanded.

You froze still in your tracks. He wasn’t using any magic, but his sudden request was unexpected.

“Can you hand me the delivery papers from there please?” he asked, avoiding eye contact, “Sorry, I’m not good around strangers.”

You wordlessly handed him the papers. You were dumbfounded. Vampires were the masters of suave and the epitome of seduction. This man gave off no such presence. Other than his otherworldly attractiveness and subtly powerful aura, you never would have pinned him as a vampire.

You quickly put yourself back on high alert. Maybe that was his plan. Maybe he was a more passive vampire. Those were rare, but still a possibility.

“If I’m not mistaken, I think you took a right instead of a left at the crossroads that led you here,” he said quietly as he held out the papers for you.

Now you were flabbergasted. You took back the papers, but awkwardly lingered on his front porch. How would you come back? You couldn’t use a delivery excuse again, that would make him even more suspicious. Your mind raced as you thought of something to say or do.

“Those flowers are beautiful,” he observed.

“Oh these? Yeah I guess. Flowers are supposed to be pretty, aren’t they?” you laughed nervously. What was he trying to do?

“Yes, they are pretty externally, as are most things in life. But I think their true beauty lies within their intent,” he slightly opened the door wider, revealing half of his body.

“These flowers have intent?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“For example, this Mr. Tom Davis either loves his partner a lot, or whoever is sending these to him loves him a lot,” he gestured towards the bouquet, “A mixture of orchids and wax flowers is a nice way to express a lasting love, patience, and sometimes even lasting wealth.”

“These flowers say that much?” you were amused.

“Only to those who listen, I suppose,” he seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

“I wish I knew as much about flowers as you. I don’t know jackshit about them, and I was just bequeathed an entire flower shop,” you sighed. You hoped he would take the bait and prolong the conversation.

“You own a flower shop?” his face lit up for an instant before his features returned to a more somber state, “And, I’m sorry for your loss.”

He almost had a cute boyish charm about him. His condolences seemed sincere, not at all like the false statements you were used to being fed by his kind.

“Well, I guess I do now. I have no idea how to run it, so I’m kind of freaking out about it. I have all these orders but I’m not even a certified florist. Oh, and thanks,” you shrugged, hoping to give off the illusion of helplessness.

“I don’t mean to overstep any boundaries, but maybe I could be of assistance?” he offered, his eyes finally meeting yours.

Something happened at that moment. You felt a pang in your chest as soon as your eyes met. Those weren’t the eyes of a hungry predator. Instead, you saw only kindness and maybe something else that you couldn’t quite place. Maybe Yoongi was wrong, maybe this wasn’t the right target.

“Are you sure about that? I don’t want to overwhelm you,” you took a step closer.

“It may be a nice change of pace for me. I don’t socialize much these days,” he chuckled. Seeing him smile made your heart skip a beat. It was so wholesome. Part of you thought you saw a flash of a fang, but another part of you wanted to deny it.

“Well, you would be more than welcome to come visit my shop! I promise I won't bite,” you winked at him, extending your hand.

You noticed that his smile faltered at the mention of biting, but he quickly dispelled his observable unease. He slowly reached his hand out to meet yours. You prepared yourself for the worst, as he might yank you into his home with enough force to pop your arm out of its socket.

Instead, you were met with a firm handshake. You gave him the name of your flower shop and politely excused yourself. He shut the door as soon as you were off the porch, but you still felt his eyes on you.

You got back into the car and stared at your hand. There was no doubt about it. His hand was just as cold as every other vampire you’ve encountered. It wasn’t the type of cold you could blame on poor blood circulation. No, it was the undead type of cold.

As you drove back to your cottage, you admonished yourself. Why did you feel disappointed that it actually was the target? You should rejoice. You can avenge your parents (not that that really mattered to you). You’re a step closer to getting this job done and going home.

But you couldn’t quite decipher what you felt. You felt as if you had a genuine interaction with him. God knows how long its been since you’ve actually gotten to be yourself. You always had a role to play.

Even though you almost fell for his stupid smile, you couldn’t detect a hint of magic. Nothing he said was laced with magical words of persuasion. There was no shroud of alluring lust that you could feel.

You plopped onto your bed. You needed to focus.

‘All you gotta do is kill the target. Easy peasy,’ you thought to yourself.

You figured you should do your routine check in call. Yoongi was probably worrying himself sick. Usually calls are spaced out every few days, but a call on the first day would ease Yoongi’s nerves.

“Hello?” Yoongi picked up after the first ring.

“Hey Yoongi,” you greeted him. Usually he doesn’t answer these calls, but this job was an exception.

“Thank god you’re okay. How did it go? Did you kill him?” he asked eagerly.

“No, I didn’t have an opening,” you sighed.

“How are you going to meet him again? Don’t tell me you tried to seduce him…”

“No, I did not. Stop assuming that! He has a weird appreciation for flowers, so I told him he can come by the shop. I don’t know why you gave me a florist alibi, but it worked out perfectly.”

“Honestly, I don’t know either. The alcohol mixed with sleep deprivation had me thinking funny things,” Yoongi admitted, “Either way, I’m glad you’re safe. What was he like?”

“He was...nice?”

“...nice? Did you just call the monster that murdered your parents nice?” Yoongi asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know how else to put it. He was weird. He didn’t act like a stereotypical vampire. He didn’t use any form of magic. He was oddly shy. I even began to doubt he was the target until I shook his hand. His hand was eerily cold, so he’s undead for sure,” you explained.

“Sounds like a peculiar case. If you run into trouble, call my personal line, got it?” Yoongi ordered.

“Yes sir,” you affirmed before hanging up.

The next day, you headed to the flower shop that the VEC had set up for you. It was a quaint shop that looked like it had been part of the local town for years. Another impossible feat achieved by the VEC. The town itself was quiet. It was mostly full of elderly folks whose family had moved on to bigger cities.

The shop was filled with flowers of every color. A myriad of different species were spread across the interior. You sneezed the second you walked in. Good grief, this place was gonna have your allergies fuck you up.

A pile of papers were piled up on the front counter. Upon examination, you groaned. Yoongi is SUCH a bastard. He actually gave you flower arrangement orders that needed to be fulfilled.

‘It will help with the authenticity of the shop! Every order has already been prepaid so you have to make them. Have fun~’ he wrote in his instructions.

“You fuckin piece of--” you were cut off when you heard the front door chime.

“Hi! Welcome in,” you exclaimed quickly as you turned around.

An elderly couple had entered the store. They kindly greeted you, saying they thought it looked so pretty from the outside that they had no choice but to come in.

You watched them from behind the counter. You were oddly moved by how sweet they were to each other. They held hands the entire time. The man smiled fondly whenever the woman pointed out a pretty flower. They laughed together as they strolled through the store.

You felt as if you were invading their privacy somehow, but what else were you supposed to do? They were your only customers, so you had to pay attention to them.

Soon your attention turned towards the front door. Would your target actually show up? Vampires are creatures of pride, so they aren’t ones to break a promise. However, this one was different. Maybe he won’t keep his word. That would suck. It would make approaching him even harder.

The old couple shuffled over to the counter with a dozen roses in hand. Together, they had 6 white roses and 6 red roses.

“Would that be all?” you ask with a smile.

“Yes ma’am,” the man replied, handing you money.

“Call me old fashioned, but roses are my favorite flowers,” the woman said to you.

“They’re my favorite too, a classic can never go wrong,” you reply happily.

“Do you know why this bouquet is special?” she asked you.

“Please enlighten me, you say, leaning over the counter.

“Red and white roses together symbolize unity. I’m so happy I was able to find unity with my soulmate,” the man answered, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek.

“Oh stop, you sap! The poor girl doesn’t care about old farts who are in love,” the woman playfully slapped his arm.

“I think it’s incredibly sweet. I’m happy for you two. Please enjoy the flowers!” you bow to them.

“Don’t worry dear, you’ll find your own soulmate too!” the woman called out to you as they left the store.

After they had left, the store quieted down. Your only company was your own thoughts.

Soulmate? Love? It’s not that you didn’t believe in that stuff, it’s more like you didn’t believe that stuff was for you. Your line of work was extremely dangerous. Any hypothetical loved one of yours would constantly be in harm's way.

By the end of the day, you managed to finish 2 extravagant bouquets. The town’s post office was more than happy to deliver your finished products. It appeared that they didn’t get much work nowadays.

This became your routine for the next few days. An entire week had passed, and there had been no sign of your target. Patience wearing thin, you began to think of another excuse to go to his house. Hopefully this time, he would be less cautious. Rain poured outside as if to mimic your growing anxieties.

You had grown strangely fond of the flower shop. Being among the pretty flowers was calming. Putting arrangements together was a new challenge that you’ve never faced before. It was, perhaps, the most peaceful time you’ve had in your life. It was almost as if you were living a normal life.

The front door chimed, and you automatically called out a greeting to the potential customer. You weren’t answered. That didn’t really bother you though, as you were engrossed in reading the day’s arrangement orders. How the hell did Yoongi get so many?

“Hello again,” a familiar deep voice disrupted your focus.

You looked up and once again faced the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He had finally arrived. He looked less cautious than before, but still nervous nonetheless.

“You actually came!” you exclaimed, you couldn’t tell if the excitement was genuine or not.

“I always keep my promises. I’m sorry it took awhile for me to get here. I had to wait for...uh…” his voice trailed off.

“For?”

“The weather.”

“The weather?”

“It’s easier to travel in gloomier weather. Preferably rainy,” he answered concisely.

“That’s odd,” you noted. Of course, you knew the reason why. Sunlight would instantly kill him.

“I suppose I’m rather odd,” he glanced around the shop, “You have a wonderful set of flora here.”

“Thank you! I can’t really take the credit. I just sell them, not grow them,” you say bashfully.

“But it takes a keen eye to pick the best ones,” he replied, examining the flowers closely.

“Everything was here when I arrived. I’ve just been selling and making shitty arrangements,” you slowly crept towards him.

Now was your chance. You could land a fatal blow while the weirdo gawked at flowers.

“You’re making arrangements?” he whipped around to face you with inhuman speed. You couldn’t help but jump back.

“Yeah! I have a ton to go through. I had no idea this place was so popular,” you say quickly, trying to act natural. He was too unpredictable to do anything rash.

“Do you need help with those?” he asked.

“Actually...if you don’t mind…” you gestured towards the huge stack of papers on the counter, “Maybe if you can give me some tips, I can make them faster! And hopefully they’ll turn out prettier.”

“Sure,” he nodded.

The rest of the day was spent making arrangements together. He had a talent for picking the perfect flowers and giving them the perfect placements. You were in awe. Was this a secret vampire power? Or was this guy just weirdly into flowers?

“Hey, I never got your name,” you say. You realized you had only labeled him as “the target” in your head.

“Ah, yes. I’m Taehyung. Kim Taehyung,” he gave you a shy smile, slowly extending his hand to you, just as you did to him during your first encounter.

“Pleasure to meet you, Taehyung! I’m ___,” you replied, giving him a firm handshake.

Taehyung went back to arranging flowers, but you froze in your place. Your eyes grew wide in shock. Your jaw silently dropped. It was a good thing Taehyung couldn’t see your face, or else he’d think something was wrong.

Which there was. Something was definitely wrong. How could you be so stupid?!? You gave him your name. Your real name. One of the most important rules about vampire hunting is to keep yourself as anonymous as possible. Vampire hunters are excellent liars. And you usually were as well. You’ve never slipped up like this before. Was he charming you somehow? You couldn’t detect a hint of magic anywhere.

“___? ___ did you hear me?” Taehyung waved his hand in front of you.

You snapped back to reality.

“Sorry, I guess I zoned out for a second. What did you say?” you gave him an apologetic smile. Not only did you give him your real name, you also just zoned out in front of an extremely dangerous vampire. What the hell is wrong with you today?

“I asked which flower embodies you the most,” he said.

“What? Like personality wise?” you couldn’t help but chuckle, “That’s a weird question. Are you a walking Buzzfeed quiz?”

“Buzzfeed? What is that?” Taehyung looked confused.

“It’s a news company. Or an entertainment company? They basically write clickbait articles. But they also have personality quizzes for literally anything. But wait, what kind of flower would I be? I don’t know,” you answered him.

“Why don’t you know?” he asked innocently.

“Because I’ve never been asked that before?” you were genuinely amused by this guy, “But I guess I’ll humor you. Let’s say I’m a rose.”

“Why a rose?”

“Cuz I’m beautiful, duh. And I can be thorny if you’re not careful,” you winked.

Taehyung seemed to seriously mull over your answer. It was silent for the next few minutes. You meant to come off as playful, but maybe he took you seriously? You couldn’t figure him out at all.

“I don’t think that was a sincere answer,” Taehyung finally said.

“Pardon?”

“I don’t think that was a sincere answer,” Taehyung repeated, “I think you just said you’re a rose because you don’t know many other flowers.”

“Alright, which flower do you think I am then?” you asked, now slightly annoyed.

You were taken aback by how odd this vampire was. He was much too pensive. Too thoughtful. Not once did you feel any lust or hunger in his aura the entire time he’s been in your presence. Not even when you were at his mansion.

“I can’t answer that,” he replied as he tied a ribbon around a finished vase.

“Why not?” you inquired, taking the vase from him.

“I don’t know you. I can’t make an accurate judgement,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t believe him. Any other vampire would have said something charming. They would have picked a pretty flower to ‘compare to your beauty’. It was the perfect question to show off their charisma.

“Which flower do you think you are, then?” you asked.

“Belladonna,” he answered without skipping a beat, “Which is also known as deadly nightshade.”

“And why are you a deadly nightshade?”

“You would understand if you knew me,” he stopped what he was doing to look you in the eyes.

His gaze was piercing. He was an enigma that you became determined to solve. Everything about him was intriguing.

“Is that a threat? Or a flirtation?” you questioned, amused.

“Which do you want it to be?”

“Preferably not a threat.”

“Then take it as a flirtation.”

“Well now that just seems disingenuous.”

Taehyung laughed. It was a real, hearty laugh. His deep laughter echoed around the room. You joined in his laughter. You were actually enjoying yourself. To be quite honest, your guard was completely down. You trusted him. You actually wanted to befriend him.

Closing time had rolled around. By some miracle (which was Taehyung) you managed to get through half the stack of orders. Finished bouquets were scattered across the shop. You profusely thanked Taehyung for all his help.

“All of these are so beautiful! I really could not have done it without you. I feel bad for my previous orders now…” you realized that your bouquets were hideous compared to Taehyung’s.

“I can come help you finish the rest of your orders tomorrow, if you’d like,” he offered.

“Are you sure? I can’t pay you for all your help just yet,” you paused to think if you should offer to hire him.

“Don’t worry about that. Money is not a concern for me. I genuinely would like to help you. At first, it was because of my appreciation for nature. After today, I think I actually enjoy your company,” he smiled.

“Wow, you actually enjoy my company? I’m flattered,” you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t contain your smile.

“You should be, I generally don’t like company,” Taehyung leaned in to close the space between you two.

He was now extremely close. His face just inches away from yours. You could smell his cologne, the scent made him even more alluring. You caught yourself slowly leaning closer to him. You instantly snapped yourself out of his spell.

Pulling back, you looked around the room. You couldn’t find it in you to meet his gaze, even though you felt his eyes on you. You were surprised once you realized that there was still no hint of any magic. What had just happened?

“God, there’s a lot of vases I gotta carry to the post office,” you say after clearing your throat.

“I can help,” Taehyung replied, already beginning to gather up vases.

“You don’t have to! You’ve already helped a bunch today. There’s a cart around back that I can use,” you didn’t understand why you were getting so flustered.

“Please allow me to help you, ___. I’m stronger than I look,” Taehyung gave you a reassuring smile. Of course he was.

“If you insist. I’ll go get the cart,” you happily fetched the cart.

What is this feeling? Were you actually enjoying yourself? You completely forgot that you had to eventually kill him until you were outside by yourself. The thought disappointed you. You quickly shook your head. This monster killed your parents. He’s a monster. A bloodsucker. A beast that must be slain.

Even knowing that, why did you feel so conflicted? Your time with him today was surprisingly enjoyable. He was so unpredictable. Your sparse conversations felt natural, as if he really just wanted to get to know you.

Taehyung helped you load up all of the vases onto the cart. He even pulled the cart for you, accompanying you to the post office. The trip was mostly done in silence. Every time you tried to spark a conversation, he would reply curtly, not giving you much to work with. It was rather peculiar for a vampire to be quiet or shy.

He walked you back to the flower shop after the deliveries were dropped off. You both lingered in front of the entrance, not really knowing what to say.

“So, you’ll swing by tomorrow?” you asked quietly.

“If that’s okay with you, yes. I’d like to make bouquets tomorrow too,” Taehyung nodded earnestly.

“That’s 100% good with me. I’ll see you tomorrow!” you wave at him before turning towards the shop door.

“___--”

“Yes?” you turn around.

“I--nevermind. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Taehyung awkwardly bowed before departing.

His weird standoffish tendencies never failed to entertain you. It somehow added more charm to accompany his handsome face.

You lay in bed later that night, recounting the events of the day.

Did you enjoy hanging out with Taehyung today? Yes, more so than you could’ve imagined.

Did you have the opportunity to kill Taehyung today? Yes, multiple if you were willing to take risks (which you usually were).

Why didn’t you take a risk? You weren’t sure. It wasn’t that you were trying to be cautious, in fact, you were very careless the entire day.

Did you catch yourself almost trying to kiss him? Yes.

Hopefully he didn’t notice that last part. You tried to play it off as soon as you realized what you were doing.

You pulled out your phone to call Yoongi for a second mission check in.

“Hello?” Yoongi answered.

“Sup Yoongi,” you greeted him casually.

“Did you kill the target yet?”

“No, but he came into the shop. He didn’t let his guard down the whole day.”

“The whole day? Was he in the shop all day?” Yoongi sounded confused.

“Yeah, he helped me make bouquets--”

“He WHAT?!?” Yoongi yelled.

“Calm down. He actually helped me get through a shit ton of your stupid orders--”

“You’re telling me that the bouquets I ordered for victims families’ were made BY a vampire? God, you gotta be shitting me, ___,” Yoongi grumbled.

“I think I have to play the long game with this one. He’s too unpredictable for me to land a fatal blow in one strike,” you explained.

“Be careful, ___. I’m glad he didn’t attack you today. Kill him as soon as possible. Then you can come home, and your parents will be avenged,” Yoongi said before hanging up.

Yoongi’s final words swam around in your head before you fell asleep.

#bts smut #kim namjoon smut #kim taehyung smut #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #bangtanshadowfamily #ksmutclub #vampire bts #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung x reader #kpop fanfic #bts angst #bts comedy #taehyung angst #namjoon angst #vampire taehyung #vampire namjoon #bayanihanboost

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arhvste · 4 years

Text

☼just until i win☼

WRITTEN CHAPTER

an - everyone say thank you atsumu <3

y/n shuffled reluctantly over to her door and slowly opened it to reveal a concerned looking atsumu with a plastic bag in one of his hands.

nothing was said between the pair as y/n moved out the way to let him in. he placed the bag down on the coffee table nearby and turned to the girl. still nothing said between the two, atsumu pulled her into his chest as y/n sobbed quietly into his t-shirt.

after 2 minutes of y/n quietly hiccuping and allowing her tears to fall, atsumu pulled away and looked down at her sighing.

“ya know, ya really worry me sometimes.”

y/n could only nod slightly as she wiped away the tears remaining on her cheeks as she finally registered the plastic bag on the table.

“what's that?” she mumbled gesturing towards the coffee table.

atsumu smiled slightly and picked it up to bring to the larger dining table.

“samu couldn't sleep till he felt like he did somethin for ya. believe it or not, he’s just as worried as me and everyone else. i had to force shouyo and bokkun not to follow me.”

guilt strung through y/n’s chest as she apologised quietly before sitting down opposite the pro player.

“don't apologise, its understandable, i’m just glad ya even opened the door for me.”

“i know you would've stood there all night if i didn't.”

atsumu smiled towards the athletics trainer and began to take out the contents inside. osamu had cooked multiple types of onigiri. ones he knew atsumu liked and ones he knew y/n liked.

the two ate in a comfortable silence as atsumu allowed the girl to gather her thoughts. the last thing he wanted to do was pressure her into talking to him about what she was thinking and feeling. he knew she would eventually tell him anyway he had all the time in the world for her to tell him.

10 minutes of a slightly warmer atmosphere between them, y/n sniffled and turned away.

“y/n?” atsumu reached over softly.

“no -shit. i-i’m sorry. this is so pathetic i shouldn't even be crying over this, i should've seen it coming from the start.”

ah so she was in the stage of self blame.

“y/n, none of this was your fault okay?”

the girl didn't care at this point and let her tears flow down her cheeks freely as she turned back to face the artificial blonde.

“yeah b-but if i’d just maybe gotten through to him better or maybe just i don't know -broken up with him, none of this would've happened!”

the setter watched as he let y/n let her emotions out. he didn't plan on riling her up. he needed her to get out whatever she was holding in so he could get through to her on a clearer mind.

“y/n, listen to me.”

stopping her quiet sobs for a moment, y/n looked up at a very genuine looking atsumu.

“i get yer a people pleaser and you’d rather take responsibility when somethins not even yer fault but, none of this was yer fault.” atsumu watched as y/n visibly relaxed at the sound go his voice.

this was a start.

he sighed and took her hands into his one and gave them a light squeeze.

“but, i don't believe this was oikawa’s either.”

y/n’s eyes widened slightly as she opened her mouth to object but atsumu didn't give her the chance.

“ah- i know ya probably think i’m just sayin that to stop you from arguing anymore but listen to me.”

the girl relaxed back into her chair, and nodded slightly for atsumu to continue.

“i know ya don't want to look at the picture, in fact its probably the last thing yer gonna wanna look at, but from what it looks to me, its one-sided. ya can tell he’s clearly uncomfortable and in shock.’

y/n frowned slightly trying to remember the awful photo but her memory was so blurred from the strong emotion and endless tears she couldn't actually remember oikawa’s expression in the photo.

“he still met up with her though.”

atsumu sighed and ran a hand through his slightly messy hair.

“yeah but personally i think he did the right thing. i know its gonna be hard to see things from his point of view but, he handled this well. sure, he wasn't flawless when it came to communication with ya but ya gotta give him some credit for going out his way. he has a lot going on right now and the last thing he probably wanted was a twitter war between his fans, reporters, her fans and herself. seeing her in person was probably one of the best ways to make it clear he wanted nothin to do with her.”

y/n didnt speak for a few moments as she registered what the boy in front of her had just said. yeah it was easy to get angry at how the situation had turned out but was that really all oikawa’s fault.

“atsumu-” y/n began with a shaky breath.

“i get that you’re trying to help me but what you don't know is that he tried to turn this on us. he accused me of cheating with you even though his only source of evidence was fake tabloids that have obviously reached for any material they can to feed off our names. like i said to him, how can he accuse me of cheating when he has no evidence but there’s actual evidence of him with another girl and he’s insistent i believe that he’s been faithful to me.”

atsumu raised an eyebrow to this. oikawa really read those stupid tabloids? they were obviously fake, hell, the same reporters had even written a few tabloids linking him to sakusa much to the latters disgust.

“but is that picture really evidence? i mean, from what it looks like he’s not into it and she’s the one initiating it. i’m not sayin what he said was fair but he’s probably frustrated and panickin. i’m not tellin ya to forgive him right now, but try to talk to him again when you've got yer thoughts together a bit more. it’s not fair to argue with him while yer both under a lot of pressure and emotions. i know for a fact that boy loves ya and ya know it too, ive never seen such a sappy and gross couple before whether yer like it or not this isn’t somethin yer gonna break up over.”

y/n hated to admit it but atsumu was right. maybe she had been a little unfair to pounce at oikawa straight away and hardly give him the chance to explain fully what had happened. had she been stupid enough to forget that oikawa struggles with stress and pressure and was prone to breaking down when things got to much.

a new wave of guilt washed over the girl as she closed her eyes and brought her head down to her knees.

“i feel awful now, oh my- i don't even want to imagine how he’s feeling right now fuck.”

atsumu stood up and crouched down in front of the now panicking y/n.

“look at me.”

glassy eyes stared into atsumu’s.

“we’ll try and get ya to meet him tomorrow, even if ya talk over the phone or somethin, but not tonight, it’s late and yer both need to rest yeah? i’ll stay on yer couch tonight but ya should get ready for bed and try to sleep.”

y/n thanked her lucky stars that she’d been blessed enough to have someone like miya atsumu storm into her life.

she nodded and shuffled to her room to get ready as atsumu wandered over to the couch with a satisfied smile.

after 5 minutes, y/n came back to bid the setter a goodnight and an offer to return back to his room.

“nah, don't wanna leave ya just in case ya wake up stressed or somethin, i’ll be here i’m not going anywhere just call me if ya need me.”

y/n smiled and gave the setter a tight hug.

“thanks tsumu. you’re a lifesaver.”

“i know.”

the girl laughed slightly and pulled away before muttering one last good night to the boy who nodded and waved back smiling.

things had been rough today sure, but atsumu had managed to force her to see things from oikawa’s point of view and even take majority of the balme off of him. she was still angry sure, but things were different now. the anger totally directed towards oikawa had been redirected to herself and sakai but y/n could live with that.

the same way oikawa promised to fix things, y/n made a silent promise to herself that she too would fix things. she just had to wait for a new day to do it properly, the worst had passed all she could do now was move forward and the girl decided to take her first step that very second as she grabbed her phone.

just until i win

oikawa tooru x reader

masterlist

part 22 - empty promises

part 23 - atsumu

part 24 - online critic

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158 notes · View notes

akaluan · 4 years

Note

20, 99, Ichigo/Xanxus

(20: Teacher AU, 99: Magical Accidents, Ichigo/Xanxus)

(With apologies to anyone expecting a vaguely IC Xanxus: I’ve read fic with him, but never source material, and it’s been a damn long while XD)

Ichigo’s leading his students back to their hotel when it happens.

A great orange-red blur bolts from a nearby alley, pursued by several distinctive men, all wearing identical uniforms and obviously furious; one even has wisps of bluish power trailing from his fingers, clearly intent on doing something to the creature they’re pursuing.

Ichigo doesn’t bother stepping aside. He flickers forward in a tiny burst of shunpo. Scoops up the… cat? Cat. And tucks it against his side even as he lets his reiatsu uncoil from his soul. He keeps it subtle for the moment, just a sense of pressure in the air directed at the men and shielding his students, but he’s ready to act if he needs to.

(He may be a teacher these days, but that doesn’t mean he’s lost his edge.)

(Especially against near-baseline humans.)

“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” Ichigo asks in careful, precise Italian, even as he adjusts his grip on the cat. It’s struggling, gnawing on his wrist and ripping at his arm in an attempt to escape, but a touch of hierro means the beast’s efforts are in vain.

The men skid to a halt. Glance between him and his gaggle of students. Clearly label him not a threat even as the largest takes a menacing step towards him.

“Hand over the cat,” the man demands.

Ichigo’s students snicker and edge back a bit to give him space, elbowing one another and whispering in Japanese; the clear dismissal seems to bother the men, but Ichigo doesn’t bother to shush them.

(He… might have a reputation still.)

Ichigo hums and glances down at the cat still angrily trying to gnaw his wrist off, then back up at the men. “I don’t think it wants to go with you.”

The man grits his teeth and holds out his — scratched and bleeding — hand in demand. “Its wants are immaterial,” the man says. “Thank you for catching it, but we need to return it home.”

The cat yowls at that, all anger-fury-terror at the option, and Ichigo tucks it more carefully against his side. This close, he can feel the whisper of not-a-cat leaking from the creature; whether it’s a person trapped in a feline form somehow or someone experimenting with a skill like Yoruichi’s, they’re not quite good enough to hide their personhood from him.

All the more reason to refuse to hand the person over, honestly.

“Sorry guys, but I think we’ll have to agree to disagree about that,” Ichigo says with a shrug, and then doesn’t wait for a response. He darts forward. Trips the first bruiser and lays out the second with a sharp jab to the stomach. Ducks away from a grab by the one with blue power and elbows the man in the side of the head. Applies a careful burst of reiatsu to make sure they all stay down, and turns back to his students with the — suddenly very quiet — cat still tucked against his side.

His students clap.

“Don’t tell anyone about this and I’ll buy you all ice cream,” Ichigo bribes them without remorse. Not that he expects this little event to go entirely unreported; one of his students will talk to a friend, the friend will talk to another, and soon enough the whole story will be blown entirely out of proportion and add another tally on his record.

“Yeah!” “Alright!” “I want mango!”

Ichigo snorts and jerks his head in the direction they were headed before their interruption. “Well, come on then. Two scoops for each of you, whatever flavors you want.” The cat in his arms makes a grumpy noise, and Ichigo snorts in amusement as he strokes the cat’s head. “None for you. Ice cream isn’t good for cats, you know.”

The cat growls and tries to gnaw on his wrist again, less like it means it and more like it’s just trying to make a point.

“I’ll get you some tuna and water when we’re back in the hotel,” Ichigo promises as he hitches the feline higher and attempts to make it at least a bit comfortable. Still, he’d rather not give it a chance to escape, so he doesn’t try too hard as he starts moving down the street with his students in tow.

It’ll forgive him eventually, or maybe not.

Honestly, he doesn’t really care.

(Why can’t any of his trips ever be normal?)

(Really.)

*****

“If you alert the hotel staff and get us kicked out, I won’t call my friend who can probably get you out of that shape,” Ichigo hisses into the not-a-cat’s ears as he and his gaggle of students finally approach the hotel. And then to his students he says, “Students, remember your promise. Not a word about our newest friend to anyone here, understood?”

“Hai, Sensei!” comes the ragged chorus of voices, many muffled by ice cream or gelato.

Ichigo hums and carefully positions himself towards the center of his group, letting the bodies of his students obscure the fact that he’s carrying a cat into a hotel that probably has a ‘no pets allowed’ policy. His students are of course entirely up for this harmless bit of rule-breaking, no doubt looking forward to seeing the cat later when he’s checked it over.

(Given the not-a-cat’s rather persistent attempts at mauling his arm, he’s pretty sure he’s also going to need to rescue a perfectly average stray in order to entertain the class.)

At least Not-A-Cat seems to be cooperating. Except for continued half-hearted attempts to chew through his wrist, the little beast is entirely quiet as they pass through the lobby and proceed down the hallway to the elevators. Where they have to wait, because there are only two elevators and he has nearly twenty students — a quick head counts confirms he’s not missing anyone yet — that need to reach the fifth floor.

One eternity later — in which Not-A-Cat graduates from half-hearted chewing to a serious effort to bite through his hierro — and Ichigo has finally managed to usher all his students back to their rooms and washed his hands of active chaperoning duties for the night.

If they need him, they know where he’ll be.

He unceremoniously drops Not-A-Cat on the hotel chair and grabs a washcloth to wipe the smudges of dirt and spit from his arm. “Hope you didn’t chip a tooth on my arm,” Ichigo tells Not-A-Cat as he settles down on the bed next to the chair. “Not sure how that would transfer over to your human form when we get you out of that.”

Not-A-Cat yawns very pointedly in his direction, wide and long and obnoxious, but it’s more than enough for Ichigo to see that nothing’s wrong with Not-A-Cat’s teeth, at least.

Which is a relief, because the more chance he’s getting to look at Not-A-Cat, the more he dislikes what he’s seeing.

Not-A-Cat is hunkered into a defensive loaf, body trembling now that the danger is gone. Its red-orange fur is ratty, with odd patches of white fur scattered all over, one of the largest splashed right across its face. It looks little better than an alley-cat, which… doesn’t bode well for the person the cat originally was.

“Got a name?” Ichigo asks as he sets the washcloth aside and eyes the room, wondering what he’s going to use for a water dish. There really aren’t that many options, but… he’ll figure something out.

Not-A-Cat very pointedly yowls at him, tail lashing and ears back, as if to say ‘I’m a cat, how do you expect me to talk?’

Ichigo huffs a laugh. “Have you even tried to talk yet?”

“Course I fuckin’ h— what the fuck?!” Not-A-Cat practically shrieks, voice softer than Yoruichi’s despite the pitch.

“There you go,” Ichigo says with a smirk, more amused than anything by the profanity after so many years of Shiro in his head. “Try to keep the chatter to a minimum around my students though, hm? They’re just regular kids.”

Not-A-Cat scowls at him, eyes narrowed and ears back, but all it does is make him look like he’s pouting. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get smug, trash. How’d you fucking know…?”

“I have a friend who can.”

“That friend get trapped in another form by a fucking Mist high on superiority?”

“No, but she has a technique that lets her turn into a cat at will,” Ichigo says as he arches an eyebrow, confused by the mention of a ‘mist high on superiority’ but content to leave it be for the moment. Now wasn’t the time to poke his nose into another society’s definition of ‘empowered human’, though given his luck…

Well. He’d deal with the fallout when it came.

If it came.

(He was getting pretty good at stopping issues before they became issues, if he did say so himself.)

“Why the fuck do you think she could help, then?”

Ichigo shrugs. “If she can’t then Hat’n’Clogs can. He’s good at unraveling mysteries.”

Not-A-Cat’s tail thumps against the chair cushion in frustration, and their voice is sullen as they say, “Fuckin’ fine. Whatever. Name’s Xanxus. If you don’t follow through on getting me out of this shape, I will find a way to fucking end you, trash.”

“Nice to meet you, Xanxus,” Ichigo says with all the weaponized pleasantness he’s learned to muster as a teacher. “I’m Ichigo Kurosaki.”

Xanxus scoffs and looks away, hunkering down further into the chair as he mutters, “Yeah whatever… didn’t you fuckin’ promise me food?”

Ichigo inclines his head and rises to his feet. “I did indeed. If you promise to stay put and not make trouble, I’ll see about getting something for you, hm?”

“Whatever, trash. Better not keep me waiting long.”

“I’ll try not to,” Ichigo says in amusement, thoroughly reminded of some of the ‘trouble’ students he’s had in the past. Whoever Xanxus is, Ichigo has no intention of letting him fall back into the hands of the people searching for him.

Even if it means calling Hat’n’Clogs up to work out a way to smuggle a feline back into Karakura.

Well, it’s not like Urahara doesn’t owe him one for the latest round of ‘fix Shinigami fuckups’.

(They’ll figure it out.)

(Just like usual.)

#local cryptid teacher kurosaki ichigo #with his gaggle of students entirely accustomed to Weird Shit (TM) happening around their homeroom teacher #tbh the ages in this don't work very well since this is Xanxus escaping from ZPB years early #via a mist with a magical artifact and more moxy than sense #anyway Xanxus gets to experience ten years of Belligerent Crush before anything happens #and maybe gets adopted by Yoruichi for funsies #and KHR arcs are entirely derailed #oh weeeelll #thefringeperson #replies

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 3 years

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Sorry for the radio silence, had to take a bit of time off to finish coursework and stuff. I would like to get through this arc sooner rather than later, so here’s to hoping nothing else keeps me away.

(Also, just recently read someone’s twitter thread going through the same early content as I did, only with the original japanese printed manga, and I continue to be frustrated at my lack of knowledge of japanese language / culture that keeps me from accessing the root material. VIZ translation is just… not the same. orz)

[No. 19 - All Might]

We start out with an overhead view of All Might being held and the nomu being frozen in place under him (and halfway through the portal itself.) All Might comments on it being frosty, and concludes without looking that the source of said frost must be Todoroki - who is in fact nearby, with the ice trailing along the ground starting from under his right foot.

All Might mentally admires the precise control, and how Todoroki just managed to avoid freezing All Might along with the nomu, and how thanks to that, the nomu’s grip is loosened. While he’s thinking that, All Might yanks himself out of the nomu’s grip and away, his side still trailing a bit of blood.

(Actually, I wonder if this was the moment that All Might was thinking back on when he approached Endeavor during the sports festival to try and get tips for teaching the next generation. After all, Izuku’s main issue at this point in the story is his lack of control over a strong quirk, and All Might isn’t aware of the Todoroki Family Drama™ just yet.)

The next page is a double spread that’s basically a showdown between the hero side and villain side.

I find it interesting that the two ‘leaders’ of the situation are on the opposite page of the spread from their helpers / minions, as well as how Shigaraki is on the opposite page from the heroes. When looking at it in a book proper (and not a scan on a webpage), this would give an even stronger sense of the divide between the sides in more than one way. The whole division between heroes and villains is also highlighted with the hero side all being on top - showing how the advantage has swung their way - while the bottom shows the villains who are all in bad positions now.

Oh man, you can also see the little teeny hero students watching from the top of the stairs - with just enough detail that you can tell the one in the front is supposed to be Ochako!

On the very left side of the spread, we see Shigaraki comment on how the villains’ way out is pinned down, and considers it a problem. Not a huge one, mind you, since he’s not really reacting much.

Katsuki straightens his arm out as he starts mocking the villains for slipping up, and how it was just like he thought - the parts that Kurogiri can turn foggy in the warp gate are limited, and he uses the mist to hide his real body. We get a brief flashback to a few chapters ago, when Katsuki first attacked Kurogiri and the villain commented that ‘that was a close one,’ before present Katsuki continues to explain his observations - if Kurogiri’s whole body was mist and physical attacks, then Kurogiri would never have said something like that.

Friendly reminder that this is not the last time we’re going to see that Katsuki’s just as much a quirk nerd as Izuku is. Probably saw Izuku’s skill at it as a challenge to overcome or something.

Kurogiri groans and turns his head to stare at Katsuki. Katsuki tells him not to move, and that if he decides the villain is doing anything fishy, he’ll blow him straight to kingdom come.

Kirishima has about the right of it. That slasher smile, though, jesus kid, relax.

Shigaraki comments on how not only have the heroes beaten the level, they’re all at full health. Today’s kids are really something - the league of villains should be ashamed! I feel like this is sort of pseudo-thoughtful and pseudo-mocking. Which I mean is basically all of his speech patterns as far as I can tell, so. Anyways, he turns to the nomu and tells it to take out ‘the explosive brat,’ since they need their escape route back.

Shouto is shocked, and it’s not hard to tell why, as the nomu literally pulls itself out of the portal, losing most of its frozen right side as the deep-frozen bits literally crack and crumble away.

...and I just realized that if Shouto had done that to a normal human, that person would likely be dead from intense frostbite from how cold he had to make that ice to literally freeze the limbs deeply enough for them to crumble like that. Or maybe the nomu was designed to reject damaged material and regenerate, and so the damage was only just enough to hinder and not kill? Either way, Shouto is fucking intense, man. Like, jesus kid, calm down a bit.

Izuku comments on how the nomu’s body is falling apart, but still moving. All Might has his arm out as he warns everyone back, before directing a comment to the villains that he thought the nomu’s quirk was shock absorption. As we see the nomu’s right side bulge and warp horrifically, Shigaraki states that he doesn’t remember saying that’s all the nomu can do, and that this (referring to the bulging new muscle and skin forming) is hyper-regeneration. He then states that the nomu is a super-powered living sandbag designed to withstand everything All Might has got, while the nomu charges in with its newly reformed limbs.

And so we get to another pretty awesome double spread:

(I had to pull this from a fan translation site because the site I generally use had this split up into two pages, which was a mess to look at and parse. The dialogue is basically the same though, besides Katsuki calling Izuku an idiot. In the VIZ translation, he just tells Izuku to shut up.)

But yeah, you can see the force of the nomu’s retaliatory punch in how it literally sends All Might flying back and the excess causing a brief windstorm. Truly designed to be All Might’s equal, that. Also, I suppose this is one scene where it’s hard to really convey how fast everything was happening in a manga format - like here, it seems like the nomu was just slow enough that Katsuki was starting to react, but with how fast the nomu and All Might are supposed to be here, I feel like he shouldn’t have had that time? I mean, I know this is just him finishing the reaction to Shigaraki’s words and not the nomu’s movement, but still.

Interesting as well to see how Izuku somehow first assumed Katsuki was fast enough to dodge the nomu, instead of assuming All Might did something the way he did when he was saving Izuku and the others from Shigaraki and the nomu. Izuku’s brain really is just in ‘kacchan sugoi’ mode at almost all times.

We next see the smoke from the damage of the attack clear enough to see All Might at the end, his feet having dug grooves in the ground in order to slow himself down before he hit a wall. His arms are braced for defense, and show the scrapes that he ended up taking from the force of the blow. He coughs up a bit more blood as he comments on how the nomu doesn’t know how to hold back.

Meanwhile, Shigaraki notes that All Might took the hit for the kid. Out loud, he replies ‘anything to save a comrade, right?’ He then points to Izuku and notes how it’s like earlier, when ‘the plain one’ came at him with everything he had. But violence in the name of saving others is admirable, isn’t it?

Shigaraki throws out his hands as he states how that pisses him off. Heroes and villains both thrive on violence, but one is considered good and the other evil. He mocked All Might’s ‘symbol of peace’ title, stating that the hero is just a tool for violence to keep ‘us’ down. (Dunno whether he is referring to villains or just people in general.) He then says that violence only breeds more violence, and he’ll show the world that by killing him.

All Might calls it a load of hooey (I bet he wanted to say bullshit, but was mindful of the kids being there), stating that idealistic criminals have a different sort of fire in their eyes. Shigaraki? He’s just enjoying himself.

Shigaraki doesn’t disagree.

(Man, I continue to be impressed with how well Hori is able to convey emotion just through the eyes. He really does seem gleeful at the situation.)

Anyways, I’m gonna call it here, even if there’s not really a ‘break’ in the action. See y’all next time for (heavy spoilers) All Might kicking the nomu’s ass.

#chapter 19 #USJ Arc #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #readthrough #yagi toshinori #shigaraki tomura #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #nomu #todoroki shouto #I would note that the spoilers thing is a joke #also the start of the ongoing trend of BNHA villains actually having a kernel of a legitimate point #except they're also extremists and murderers so like maybe they need chill pills #like yeah yeah down with the government #but have you all possibly considered therapy #or at leasy yoga or something

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gamewise · 3 years

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Batman Review

What, you thought the NES was the only one to be graced with a Batman video game? Well, believe it or not, when Sunsoft’s name actually had some merit, they put out a few Batman games thanks to the movie license, and each one was a little different. The NES ran off with one of the best side scrolling license-based video games, the Game Boy got a decent side scroller, and the PC Engine got a... top down game where you literally clean up Gotham? That one is worth a review in itself, but we’re looking at the often overlooked Genesis game. Is this game really that bad that few people talk about it in Batman retrospectives? Absolutely not!

Sunsoft’s Batman on the NES is quite the crazy game, especially considering the liberties they took with the source material. What makes the NES game special outside of this was the attention to detail in the animation, the fantastic soundtrack, and the frantic action. Batman on the Genesis, is different. It takes a few liberties here and there, but moments you expect from the movie are here, such as the Boombox thug, Batman rescuing Vicki Vale, and also Batmobile and Batwing sequences. It’s doing things differently from the NES game by slowing things down a bit, and sticking a little closer to the source material. It’s doing a lot more different by changing up level designs completely to reflect locations featured in the movie, such as the Flugelheim Museum. As such, I find it unfair to compare it to the NES game versus style, as we’re dealing with two completely different fantastic beasts. Instead, we’re going to look at the Genesis version on its own merits, while discussing what the game is doing differently from the NES.

So what does Batman have going for it? Well, for starters, much like the NES game, you play as Batman, and punch out The Joker’s henchmen. They’re not all unarmed, as you deal with thugs toting guns, bazookas, axes, and swords. There’s even some fire breathing clowns! Each enemy has its own unique pattern of attack, which requires the player to have a certain sense of timing. Much like the NES game, Batman can either punch his way through enemies, or toss Batarangs at them, and here’s the first deviation in gameplay. Batman does not have a ton of gadgets here, instead relying entirely on Batarangs for a ranged attack. Unlike the NES game, Batarangs do not arc back towards Batman, they go in a straight line like shurikens do. They are not just effective on dealing with certain enemies from a long distance, they are very useful on bosses to make your life a little easier. There is a catch to all this, and that’s Batarangs are few and far between, as are health powerups. It’s going to take a little more skill than the NES game to survive as Batman. Batman also has the ability to do a mid-air somersault, which when used correctly doubles as an attack that is insanely useful against bosses. Be careful though, if you don’t time this right, you will either miss completely, or take damage in the process.

Compared to the NES game, which had punishing level design and boss fights, this game chooses to not only stick to those roots, but Sunsoft have chosen to turn things up a notch. See, Batman never starts at full health, instead, he always starts at half and with only 5 Batarangs. That’s right, for the first time, Batman didn’t have enough prep time to go against The Joker. This means that every time you die, you not only lose a life, but you’re back to half health, and 5 Batarangs. So those 30 Batarangs you went through the trouble of collecting will be gone completely. And believe me, you are going to be frustrated at times with the game’s insane level design, especially with the Flugelheim Museum and its amazing barrage of death traps.

Not only do you have to deal with falling chandeliers, but there are numerous gaps just waiting for Batman to fall down. While it sounds unfair, there is a way to deal with every situation here, and that is to have a sense of patience. You’re not on a time limit, and all your gun-toting enemies aren’t going to fire non-stop. They need to steady their aim before firing, so you have a window of opportunity to react accordingly. Another thing you don’t have is a checkpoint system, but instead, you just respawn where you died, unless you fell to your demise. Should you lose all your lives, only then will you be forced to start a whole level over. What it boils down to is to study the screen, and watch how enemies attack. Take patience, and nail the timing, and you will be ready to take on almost anything the game throws at you. It may not solve all the difficulty issues though. When you get to the last level, the game throws gun-toting thugs at you non-stop, and they not only stand and shoot, but crouch and shoot. Make sure you have Batarangs handy for the situation, and you should be prepared to deal with it. What you won’t be prepared for are the two vehicle levels.

One of the complaints I had with the NES version of Batman when I was a kid, was no Batmobile level. Here, I get my wish, and in many ways, it’s both frustrating and enjoyable. For starters, there are no real power ups to collect here, instead you get standard health and ammo power ups that appear in both the top and bottom sections of the screen. Any Batarangs you collected up to this point are converted into missiles for the Batmobile and Batwing. The trouble is since the screen is scrolling fast and the health and ammo boxes are the same as regular levels, it is insanely easy to miss them, or even mistake them for an obstacle. This is also the only point in the game you will have a checkpoint system to deal with, but what makes this part more frustrating is that all enemy attacks will do two damage as opposed to one. Which means, you will die in two hits unless you are at full health. The Batwing sequence turns the difficulty up to eleven, as suddenly it turns into a bullet hell with heat-seekers coming every which way. In the Batmobile sequence, you can easily predict where projectiles are going to go, and have plenty of time to react accordingly. Yet despite this, as I played, I began to get a sense of a horribly unbalanced difficulty. I found myself dying too easy

On the NES Batman had an aesthetic of using dark backgrounds with brightly colored sprites and platforms, giving off an almost comic-book feel. Here, the game wants to match the movie’s aesthetic, and the Genesis seemed to have the right color palette for Sunsoft’s goal. More importantly, there is a lot of attention to detail in the animations. The fact that Sunsoft decided that no animation should be spared is incredible, especially for something as simple as a thug steadying his aim. Only thing I’d maybe consider taking away is Batman’s haters gonna hate stride, it looks kind of goofy when you see him striding down the streets of Gotham. Also, I can’t stress this enough, much like the NES game, the audio is phenomenal. Just listening to the soundtrack, you’d almost forget you were playing a Genesis game, since most people associate the Genesis sound chip with nails on a chalkboard. The Flugelheim Museum has a great bassline, and the Batmobile and Batwing levels have the perfect high energy music for a shmup. However, it’s a little disappointing the sound effects department. Everything sounds just a little too quiet, save for Batman taking damage. Everything’s either muffled, or the music winds up taking over the whole show.

At the end of the day, Batman on the Sega Genesis is one criminally overlooked licensed game. While it can’t quite reach the same heights as its NES counterpart, there are things here the Genesis game does differently to allow it to stand on its own two legs. Had it not been for the unbalanced difficulty, this game would be a bit more enjoyable, but to the uninitiated, this game may feel like nonstop torture. Sunsoft did a solid job here, putting forth the best Batman game they could on the Genesis, and choosing to stick closer to the 1989 film classic. I wouldn’t want to imagine this in anybody else’s hands at the time. Batman on the Sega Genesis needs to be brought up more when discussing early Batman games as an example of what happens when a developer ends up delivering a different experience each platform.

Positives

+ Memorable soundtrack

+ Detailed Sprite animation

+ Batmobile level becomes fun when you get the hang of it

+ Does a great job following the movie

+ Death respawns you where you died rather than forced to a checkpoint as Batman

+ the parallax scrolling in the Batwing level is beautiful!

Negatives

- Unbalanced difficulty may leave you frustrated

- Batwing level does everything in its power to kill you

- Flugelheim Museum has too many death traps

- Underwhelming sound effects end up making the game feel less punchy

- Batman’s walk cycle

Overall: 8/10

#video games #retro gaming #retro #batman #gaming

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spookyold-saintjm · 4 years

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Fears

Mandalorian x female reader

Part 17 of the Pilot series [Masterlist]

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: bro...the yearning. [and probably some typos because my brain is mush lately]

a/n: We’re back! I hope this one makes up for the heartbreak we all got put through in the last one ;) As always, your thoughts, shares, and ideas for what you’d like to see in future chapters are so wonderfully appreciated! x

—

When you had last been on Nevarro, you had met someone who you knew only as the Armorer. She had been the single lingering member of the Mandalorian covert that existed just below the surface following the attacks of former Imperial troops led by Moff Gideon.

She may very well have even been the only person to make it through alive. When your group had found her, she had been gathering the remains of beskar armor that lay in heaps from the attacks, melting them down, preserving them for a hopeful future use. A hope of remaining life and of future revival and prosperity of the tribe.

Hope, indeed. You knew all too well how thorough anyone who had worked for the Empire would be, especially led by someone such as Gideon.

Neither your nor Din had mentioned it aloud, even as you now navigated through the abandoned tunnels where his covert has once lived, but you had both silently wondered if she was still there, if she had survived the horde of incoming troops that threatened to take the child, and all of your lives along with him. She had stayed behind to confront them, but whatever had occurred beyond that was unknown.

You walked alongside him in the dim light of the tunnels, quiet but for the occasional drips of water, the scuffling of some variety of small sewer-dwelling creatures, and the faintest echoes of two sets of boots thudding steadily against the ground as you both moved.

There was nothing else of significance to be found as you both journeyed deeper. You wanted to believe that was a good sign, that perhaps at least some of the people who had lived here might have had enough warning to get out in time…but you knew there was no use in wanting. Inevitably, it only made things harder.

Things had started to appear somewhat familiar around you, and you knew you must have been getting close. Din came to a stop, his head lifted slightly higher as he seemed to listen for any sounds of movement. You did the same, even tried to reach with your mind for signs of life around you as you had practiced with the child before…but either it wasn’t working, or you simply felt nothing. It was impossible to tell, and increasingly frustrating. How did a baby just...seem to know these things?

You both began to move again, Din reached for his blaster, and he urged you with a tilt of his head to do the same. You followed behind as he stepped away and led around and into the forge.

A quick scan of the room revealed that it was empty, and you both returned your blasters to their respective places as your sides. Din moved around the circular room slowly, as you did the same from the opposite side.

“Everything’s still here.” Din observed. You’d picked up on it as well; there were a plentiful amount of supplies as materials meticulously organized around the room. That, at least, seemed to signify that the Imperial troops hadn’t been able to ransack the space. But there was something else that caught your attention.

“Still warm.” You observed, as you took the step up in the center of the room and slowly reached your hand out to feel the gentle heat pulsing dully from the forge itself. Din stepped up beside you, his chest tightening when he realized you were right.

“Of course. I find no use in being idle.”

A third voice had you both reaching for your blasters again and pointing them toward the arched entryway, though you were quick to lower them once you caught sight of its source.

“It’s been some time, Din Djarin.” The Armorer said simply, her gold helmet nodding once toward him.

Din nodded back, swallowing thickly in his momentary surprise before he replied. “Yes.”

“And I see you still have a companion.” She then looked to you, her gaze piercing despite the barrier though she nodded to you in greeting as well, which you were quick to return though you didn’t speak.

Din glanced to you for a fleeting moment. “Yes.”

The Mandalorian woman made her way over to the round table and low-set stools just off from the center of the room, and lowered herself onto one of them. She gestured a hand toward the empty seats. “Please sit.”

You waited for Din to lead the way, and sank to the remaining spot beside him once he had seated himself directly across from the Armorer. You both had a moment to take notice of her armor; now much more subdued in nature, her attire lacking the extra decor and furs that had previously covered her, perhaps an attempt to appear less distinct. As much as a Mandalorian could, anyways.

“You must have questions.” Her posture was sharp and straight as she looked between you and Din. “I will answer what I can.”

Din didn’t waste any time. “Why did you stay here?”

The Armorer glanced around the room. “It is the home we have known the longest for some time. Perhaps the only one that is still even inhabitable above the surface. In the case of any survivors, I decided to remain here so that if they choose to return, their efforts to reunite members of the Tribe is not in vain. If that happens, we will determine a time and place to formally relocate.”

She nodded to the small stack of Mandalorian steel slabs that rested on a work bench along the far wall. “In the meantime, I recovered all of the remaining beskar I could find following the invasion. But I knew there must be individuals in the town, and even beyond its borders, who had an idea of where more could be found. I have since been recovering what I can, in an effort to preserve what remains of our kind.”

You knew your blink of awe wasn’t missed by her, but you were in near-disbelief at the quiet confidence, the deep devotion to her people seemingly unaffected by what had transpired even in this very room just a few months prior. Din’s seemingly unfazed response of stillness and acceptance gave the impression that this is something he would have expected from her, which commanded from you an even greater level of silent respect.

“Have you tried to contact them?” Din asked, at which the Armorer cocked her head to one side, almost scolding for his question.

“Have you?”

Din leaned back, his shoulders stiffening as he shook his head slowly. He hadn’t. Not once. Not because for the lack of desire for it, but because his focus had been shifted to the child and his newfound mission. And because he very well knew he probably wouldn’t like the results of an attempt.

The Armorer knew Din well enough to know that he wouldn’t have, but somewhat surprised him with her reply. “Good. It’s too dangerous now for us to attempt communication in such a way. If they are to return, they will do so of their own accord.”

A brief silence passed through the room as you and Din considered, knowing likely as well as she did that the possibility of anyone returning was slim to none. That she would likely spend the remainder of her days alone in the world if she waited around forever. It was a thought that pained you to think about.

As if she could read your thoughts, she spoke once again, though her voice was lower, more ritualistic in tone.

“This is the Way.”

Din nodded, his own reply a firm acceptance. “This is the Way.”

You could only glance between them in a silent astonishment at the finality of the statement, which put an instant, almost tangible close to that bit of the discussion.

“I see the child is no longer in your company.” The Armorer stated after a still moment. “Did you reunite him with his kind?”

“No. Not yet.” Din answered quickly. “We left him a trusted friend while we came here.”

“And how goes the search?”

Din’s head turned slightly toward you, but when you remained staring straight ahead, he bumped his leg lightly against your knee in a gentle nudge for you to answer.

You cleared your throat lightly and urged in a short breath before you spoke. “We, ah—we were given coordinates for a place where we might find some answers. By someone who was familiar with his…abilities. We’re headed there next.”

“And when you arrive, if you find his people,” The Armorer tilted her head back slightly, her attention now split between you and Din’s reactions as she asked another question of her own. “You will leave him to be raised with them?”

While the answer should have been an immediate and obvious agreement, you and Din, and maybe even the Armorer too, knew that it wasn’t quite so simple.

But Din answered much more quickly than you’d anticipated, though his voice carried a little too harsh of an edge that made it not quite as convincing as perhaps he would have hoped: “If they don’t seem to have any ill intent, and are willing to accept him, then yes.”

The woman across from you hummed lowly, her fingers drumming once, twice, atop the small, round table between you. While she didn’t seem surprised by Din’s answer, you could tell simply by the subtle shift in the air around you that she knew it wasn’t an entirely honest one. He wouldn’t give the child up so easily, their bond too unique and too deeply woven in such a short time after they had met to be so simply broken. Even if it went against the order of his duty to Mandalorian code.

Din knew this too, of course. Even speaking of it now awakened an uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. It was something he couldn’t have explained if he tried. Letting the child go would not be quite as straightforward a task as it had initially seemed when The Armorer had bestowed his signet upon him just a few months before.

But if she had any indication of this, she didn’t outwardly show it. “Then I wish you luck as your search continues.”

The statement seemed to be a dismissal as the woman across from you then stood. You followed, standing alongside Din, though before either of you had moved any further the Armorer spoke again.

“Din. I would like to speak with you privately.” She tilted her head toward you, the gesture seeming almost apologetic in nature. “With all respect.”

You answered quietly. “Of course.” You glanced toward Din, whose gaze briefly met yours before you looked back to her with a nod.

She nodded back, studying you curiously for a final moment as you quietly stepped out of the room and moving back around the corner to assure that they were afforded the privacy that had been asked for.

The Armorer’s gaze, even from underneath the helmet, was sharp as she looked pointedly toward Din, who still stood across the small table from her. When she was sure that you were well out of a hearing distance, she breathed a short sigh before speaking.

“You won’t find many these days who are so readily accepting of our kind.”

Din only blinked back at her, uncertain of her meaning.

She slowly crossed her arms over her chest-piece. “Simply an observation.”

The lightened lift in her tone was what made Din finally realize what she meant, and he’d had to force back the jolt that threatened to course through his body at her words as he scrambled for his own.

“I—”

Had it been so obvious? Apparently it had, at least to someone who had known him for most of his life. Especially now, when lines had been blurred and the space between you both had so abruptly shifted after months’ worth of silent building. Whatever the cause, the Armorer had seen through any attempts either of you had put forward to conceal anything less than what you both knew had been unfolding between you.

To give Din reprieve from his attempt to find a way to respond, the Armorer shook her head and spoke for him. “The Creed comes above all for a Mandalorian. That much is indisputable.” Din followed her with his eyes as she moved around to her work station. She readjusted her gloves as she looked back to him. “But, you are far overdue on allowing yourself a shred of happiness, Din Djarin. Especially when it appears to be so readily within your reach.”

He could do nothing more than nod, his body stiff as he tried to process what possibly the only other surviving member of his tribe has just said to him. She understood the dangers of what it would mean to be close to you just as well, if not even more so than he did. And yet…

Din could not recall feeling anything even remotely close to fear since he was a boy. He had always been of the understanding that the life of a Mandalorian could not afford it; one’s days were numbered more strictly than most, and they could not be wasted in something that would hold one back from unwaveringly taking care of their own and preserving their way of life.

Yet, from the moment he had made the decision to protect the child, and to protect you, those years of never accepting fear had begun to catch up with him. He was afraid of being an inadequate caretaker for the baby. Afraid of never giving him a good home, but afraid of what would happen to him if he let him go. Afraid of putting either of you in harm’s way. Afraid of losing you, but afraid of keeping you too close. It was an endless cycle that threatened to drive him mad, so he’d simply pressed on to his straightforward goal of doing what he knew was right in the end.

A shred of happiness. The Armorer had presented him an option that he had simply decided not to think about. His life, his choices didn’t leave room to consider anything beyond duty to the Creed.

And he had never once considered that maybe he could be wrong.

The Armorer had already silently begun more work just before Din had left the room. He was soon approaching where you now sat in a divot in one of the tunnel walls, thumbing through the faded pages of a water-damaged book that you had found there while you waited for him to emerge.

You heard the faint thuds that signaled his approach, and were quick to look up as he neared you. He didn’t seem to be upset, but a weight still seemed to dwindle at his shoulders that you couldn’t quite interpret. Understandable, you supposed, considering the kind of afternoon it had turned out to be.

“This is Mando’a?” you asked once he stood beside you, gesturing toward the text in your lap.

Your eyes locked, frozen in place for a beat before Din leaned to scan the worn page you had opened to, hardly legible but just enough ink remained intact for him to make out a few words here and there.

“It is,” he said simply, his voice softer than normal as you both looked down at the pages together.

“It’s beautiful.” You ran your fingers along the pages. “What I can make out of it, anyways.”

Din was still, looking down at you a moment longer in silence. “I have something similar to this. Back on the Crest.”

You looked back up to him then, a gentle smile teasing your features. “You read?”

“…If I have time.” Din’s voice was even quieter than before, but his answer made you scoff as you stood.

You dusted off your pants once you are back on your feet as your softened smile transformed into something of knowing, because Din was one of the last people in the world to do anything remotely relaxing beyond sleeping. If that.

“So…no.”

It was Din’s turn to let out a short huff then, and you hoped that he was maybe smiling at least a little bit behind his helmet as the two of you began to make your way back through the tunnels, every moment drawing closer to the light of the skies above-ground.

He was.

—

You, Din and the child returned back to the Razor Crest once you had spent some time talking with Cara and sharing what you had discovered. It had taken some convincing from you both, but you had gotten Din to agree that it was best if you all took the night to get some extra rest before the first big stretch of your journey that would come once you were off Nevarro.

You’d had dinner with her, then spent the evening making any brief, final repairs and necessary checks outside the Crest, keeping the child alongside you to give Din the privacy of the entirety of the ship’s interior for his own share of dinner. He was perfectly content with taking his meals to his room on the ship or into the cockpit if you weren’t going to be at the controls for a while, but you still gave him the additional space whenever you could.

You had only meant it as a usual polite gesture, but the Armorer’s words to Din had echoed in his mind nearly the entire time he ate in a solitary silence.

When it had become too dark for you to work any further (Karga had been right when he said the sun sets fast on Nevarro), you stepped inside with the child toddling behind. You quickly scooped him up before he got too occupied with anything else to get him ready for bed, but he’d settled into it without much protest. You chuckled to yourself at the thought; he must have really given Cara the run-around if he was so willing to go to sleep.

Din offered to take him, which you gratefully accepted as you stepped away to get ready to sleep yourself. It would likely be the last sleep you’d have for a while that was more than a nap between turns at the controls in the middle of space, so you absolutely wanted to take advantage of it. A quick jump into the refresher and a change of clothes later, you were prepared to find yourself in the usual position on the occasional nights like these: sitting in the same room as Din and finding quiet ways to occupy your time, with occasional short conversations mixed in-between, until one of you finally felt that you were tired enough to bid the other a quick goodnight and you parted ways until morning.

This time, however, you were standing next to him as you both looked over the navigational charts and data that you’d put together. You briefly discussed potential locations for fuel and supply stops, and emergency locations if the need to gather work for some extra credits came up, as well as anywhere to steer clear of altogether during your journey.

Though the conversation itself was straightforward business, the moment itself somehow felt almost intimate. For the two of you, at least. Din was seated in the pilot’s chair as you stood at his side, hovering so close to him that he could smell the scent of your freshly-washed and still-damp hair even through his helmet as you pointed to various spots and moved things around on the charts he had pulled up on the data screen. More than once your hands brushed together, a hasty apology muttered between you both at first but when it had happened again neither of you had said a word. Your leg occasionally bumped against his thigh as one of you moved and spoke in hushed tones, and at one point you had nearly laid a hand onto his knee instead of the edge of the control panel as you’d leaned forward to get a better look at a small detail on the screen in front of you.

To make matters worse, there had been a definite tension in the air between the two of you from the moment you’d arrived back at the ship. The events of the day had put the thoughts aside for a while, but there was still the unspoken matters that remained between you, the reasons a distance had formed between you that morning and, despite your close proximity, seemed to linger and threaten to push you apart even now. You both knew it, could both feel it, prickling and almost awkward if weren’t for that the long silences between you were actually rather common.

You stayed a while longer in the cockpit, until you were struck with a yawn that finally made known the exhaustion that had crept into your muscles. With heavy eyelids, you had turned and opened your mouth to mutter a short goodnight to Din. But before you could step away, he was standing alongside you with a gloved hand wrapped around your wrist.

He didn’t let his hold on you loosen, even when you’d spun halfway around to look at him. Instead he held you there, just as he held your gaze while you waited for him to say something because the rush of adrenaline that had spiked through your body at his sudden touch had momentarily stunned you silent.

“I’m sorry.” His grip dropped from you then, and you turned back more to face him fully.

“For what?” You asked thickly, knowing he didn’t just mean for reaching for you. There was something else, something hovering overhead that had you both pinned in place.

Din opened his mouth to start, but ended up breathing out a short sigh of frustration at himself when the words wouldn’t come right away. The hand that had been curled around your wrist reached to rub absently, nervously, at his opposite arm. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You didn’t entirely follow, and your brows furrowed at him. The plan you’d laid out hadn't been anything particularly different than usual. “I think we have everything sorted out just fine.” You gestured to the still-blinking panel behind him. “If anything different comes up, we can just—“

Din shook his head, almost dizzy from both the subtle motion and his overwhelming need to make you understand. “No. Not that.” He let his hand drop down again at his side. “I—I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, with any of this.” He paused to swallow the pressure that had arisen in his throat and threatened to choke him before he finished his reply. “With us.”

Oh. You could feel your lips parting slightly at his words as the all the air in your lungs threatened to escape. You didn’t know what you had been expecting him to say, but it definitely wasn’t that.

Din’s head dropped slightly to one side, to avoid your gaze. “I’ve never…I don’t know—” Gods, why did you make it so kriffing hard for him to even think?

But that was another thing that connected you, how you often seemed to understand what he was trying to say even when he wasn’t able to say the words aloud. You found yourself taking the slightest step forward, back to him, though you couldn’t meet his eyes, either.

“I…” you started in turn, hesitating as you regained your breath and gave in. “This is new for me, too.”

It was true. A life of intentional detachment, so strictly enforced by both those above you and within your own self, had not given any room or sense of understanding for what you felt even as you simply stood in the same room as him in that moment. It was a pull, a calling that you had forced yourself to deny from the first moment you’d felt it. And now that you both knew that the other felt it, too…what did you do with it?

Din looked back to you, pleading your eyes to meet his. You felt it, and lifted your own head as he fought the aching in his chest and he breathed out words that had been rolling around in his head for so long. “I just…I care about you. And I’m…afraid.”

You couldn’t breathe. The weight of the words hung in the air overhead, exposed and made real, so real that you thought you could have grabbed onto them, clung to them. He cared for you, that much at least had been made obvious. But to hear him say it out loud…

When had you gotten so close to each other? You didn’t realize it until you had to lean back to look into the visor of his helmet. His entire body was still, and so stiff that you wouldn’t have even been for certain there was a man underneath if it weren’t for the warmth radiating from him that begged to draw you in even closer.

Din was simply trying to hold it together, to resist the rare flight response blinking frantically in the back of his mind until you’d reached for him, had been able to do nothing more than lay a hand flat against the smooth beskar steel that rested over his chest as you breathed out his name.

“What are you afraid of?” You asked, just over a choked whisper.

His heart beat wildly underneath at your closeness; the touch that he couldn’t even feel, but nevertheless knew was there, sent electricity through his entire body in a short, hot wave.

He drew in a breath, the movement momentarily bringing you closer. His head was tilted downward, your forehead now mere inches from brushing against his helmet. You heard a slight shift, caught the movement of out of the corner of your eye as his hand slid around to your waist, fingers pressing gently but earnestly into the thin fabric of your shirt as he held you there, an effort to cling to whatever bit of closeness he could have with you.

“I’m afraid of what could happen if this goes somewhere we can’t come back from.”

His answer struck you like a blaster bolt, its heat filling your chest and rising up into your throat. There it was. And they were words you could have said just the same. Although you knew the stakes weren’t all the same for him, the fear wasn’t all that different: a fear of unknown, of commitments that could so easily crumble in trembling hands, plagued by dark clouds of things that would inevitably return to haunt you an in turn put those you allowed to be close to you in harm’s way.

Yet everything inside you begged you to give in. Din felt it, too; the very core of his being begged him to surrender.

You’d both spent nearly your entire lives running from something. And you were getting tired.

His voice cracked through the words when he spoke again. “But, I think…”

You were so close now as you looked up at him that if he closed his eyes, when he closed them in that moment, he could so easily will back the memory of how it truly felt when your breaths had mingled the heat of the little bit of space between you in times before, how your lips had softly but eagerly brushed together.

Din’s breath shook as he slowly released the air he had been holding so tightly in his lungs, loud enough for you to hear and to make your fingers curl into the armor over his chest and had your other hand reaching to grab onto his arm when it reached your ears.

Your own eyes had fluttered shut, your chest rising and falling higher, faster, when his free hand moved to claim the other side of your waist, when his grip tightened and pulled you just that final bit closer so that no gaps remained between you. You were numb, Din was numb, yet you both knew your skin was practically buzzing under each other’s touch, the barriers between you be damned as your breathing grew a hint louder, a beat more rushed.

“I think I’m more afraid of never finding out.”

Your eyes had opened again. Your fingers curled into his arm and you leaned into him, your body brushing against his in places that beskar didn’t cover.

Your reply was low, earnest, and hardly audible over the beating of your heart against your chest. “Then…we find out.”

Din leaned back, only just far enough to see the whole of your face more clearly. “If—if that’s what you want.”

A choice, even now. He would always give you a choice. And if you hadn’t been certain of you decision before, you were now.

“It is.” you breathed out. “Do you?”

He’d again slowly ducked his head, your forehead now completely but gently pressed against his helmet. “Yes.”

The room fell silent aside the soft sounds of your steadying breaths as you stayed there, Din’s hands at your sides and yours moving to link around the back of his neck. You’d let your eyes fall shut again, and Din had done the same, doing or saying nothing more beyond holding each other in a moment in time that had granted you both permission to feel what you had both longed for.

—

tag list: @nadia-rosea @capsironunderoos @electricprincess888 @smolashie @iwatobiswimbros @backontheolebullshit @100kindsofblake @pandacookieowo @biolo-tea @baby-yodas-cool-aunt @heyitsjaybird @kristalhi @edgy-hufflepuff-bro @dirty-dancefl00r5 @fastidious-and-a-mess @officiallydeceased @sunkissed-winter @crushingonmando @ah-callie @wrinkled-daydream @holamor @din-and-juice @cosmo-bear @goburnurflowercrown @mabelleen @b0n-chann @the-obsession-ship @operation-spot @atletino @immundusspiritu @jellyfishpoptart @dyn-djarin @tired-bisexual-fool @weakling-grace (cont. in reblog)

#the pilot #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #mandalorian fic #mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian

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onyourzeus · 4 years

Text

• stress-free | kwp

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: stress-free pairing: kim wonpil (of day6) & you (she/her pronouns) genre: FLUFF, college!au words: 3.4k

author’s note: @pirimiritiddy requested a fic about wonpil, and here it is. it went on for longer than i previously planned, buuuuut. i hope it’s still okay aaaa

(this is the 1st time i’ve written something for wonpil so if i get his personality wrong, i do apologize. i am also a baby myday huhu)

this dot fic (bullet style) is part of the falling asleep on the bus scenario that i intend to write for each day6 member. check out the others: dowoon (currently only 2/5 completed)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

wonpil hates his schedule for this winter term

who assigns a class that is only available at seven in the evening??

3 times a week

during THE WINTER

did he mention it’s a major lecture he’s required to take??

psychology of stress, more like

this class is giving him the kind of stress it is specifically warning its students about

anyway, what can he say. he chose this major, there’s only 1 more term after this one and then finally: graduation

it’ll be fine, he’ll live

thank the heavens they didn’t need to attend the first two meetings, but some reading material was provided

and was expected by the professor to have been read and reflected upon

the class is really living up to its name because when wonpil opened the pdf

it was 30 pages of tiny font sized sentences (for ants!) about the definition of stress and how it affects every part of the body yada yada yada

wonpil tried. he really tried

that is to say he fell asleep on his desk while going over the same 20th page of the document

if it weren’t for jae shaking him awake, he’d miss his first night class

it would’ve been nice… if only the professor didn’t take attendance (something about being generous enough to make the first 2 classes “free,” so everyone has an obligation to come in for the remainder of the semester)

great, he’s stuck freezing his ass off just walking to the bus stop alone

hopefully they turn the heater all the way up in the auditorium or else

the thousands spent in tuition would have literally been for nothing

overdramatic wonpil, can you blame him

he thinks about reading the remaining 10 pages on the bus, even if he knows nothing of value will be absorbed

he wants to tries anyway, he does feel a little bit refreshed from that impromptu nap

the bus has arrived, and it’s packed as usual; a lot of the students riding the shuttle are just yet to take off in the following stops

wonpil squeezes his way inside, 30 pages of stress psychology research gripped in both hands

“excuse me, sorry,” wonpil mumbles, eyeing for a spot to sit to make him comfortable

because once all the people standing up leave, it’s usually a race for the exit

he’ll never understand college students

finally, he sees an empty seat way in the back. there was a girl on one end and two other students who seem to be ready to get off on the right side

wonpil doesn’t mind sitting next to someone, but once those 2 are gone he’ll just scoot over to give the girl on the left some privacy

she seems very much in deep sleep anyway, wonpil wonders if her stop is coming or she’s riding to go to campus?

wonpil doesn’t have time to think about other people, it causes him unnecessary stress

once sat down, his eyes focus on the last page he left off of

the words register as gibberish in his brain, and with the bus moving so much it makes it even more difficult to follow along the paragraphs

wonpil takes in a deep breath, holds it in, and sighs very heavily

his patience is usually the best out of his friends, but this class is turning more and more into the psychology of how to get you stressed tf out instead

the bus nears its next stop, and the two people on his side stand up to leave, yes he can breathe normal air

however

hold on

his shoulder feels heavy

turning his head slightly, for some reason once the bus had stopped its engine the girl’s head had flipped over to lean against wonpil’s shoulder instead

oh no oh no oh no

his shoulders suddenly freeze, as if blasted with a ray gun filled with ice

it’s heavy and he can’t move, it’s numb and this girl’s hair is splayed all over his his sweater

and she

she smells of coffee, and wonpil inhales it in

it’s not foul or anything, but it’s definitely exuding notes of espresso bean and freshly roasted coffee

it makes wonpil feel a little more awake

but he still can’t move his shoulders, and suddenly he’s panicking because the bus started moving again and even though capacity has lessened by 80%

someone decided to sit on the other end of the row he’s at

so if he even attempts to move, he’ll still be seated next to someone

wonpil grumbles, lower lip jutting forward

something shifts

and he realizes he shook his shoulders a little bit with his frustration

“ah…” he exclaims inaudibly, panicking at the possibility that he had woken her up from her nap

wonpil tenses up, shoulders stiff and eyes peering at his side to see what she’s up to

she lifts her head just a few inches off of wonpil’s shoulder, and for a moment he’s relieved that maybe she realizes what’s going on

but wonpil only hears a soft yawn coming from her, and she returns to using his very rigid shoulder as her pillow during this bus ride

let’s just say that the next thirteen minutes was more stress-inducing than wonpil wanted it to be

right when the bus reaches the final stop (main campus), wonpil exerts any and all efforts he has to shake his shoulder, up and down, enough to elicit an awake response from this stranger

the moment he feels her let up, wonpil dashes through that bus door like there’s no tomorrow

he is greeted with the coldest wind hitting his face, and his shoulder feeling numb from all the.. pillow roleplaying it did, if you will

wonpil feels bad, borderline guilty for leaving her like that— what if she’s asleep until now?? he can almost hear soft snores from her end for a minute there, too, and it took so much of wonpil to resist chuckling at it while in panic mode simultaneously

suffice to say, he was not able to read the rest of the document

in wonpil’s defense, he had encountered it first hand — how stress overcomes one’s body and mind

he forces himself to focus on what’s ahead, as boring as it sounds

he enters the lecture hall with a few minutes so spare, deciding to sit in the back

the projector screens are big and wonpil is not about to take his chances of getting called on today

luckily enough, he finds a row with visibly no other student sitting around the area

shoulder feeling more alive, he comes back to his senses as well

he takes off his outer sweater as it had become toastier inside. he still had a couple layers beneath his clothes

as the professor starts talking, wonpil finds himself yawning a few times

he doesn’t know if the video playing on screen is boring him or the girl in the bus affected his sleepiness

suddenly he remembers the smell of coffee, and how that’d sound real good right about now

he slaps both of his cheeks lightly, trying to take him back in the zone of at least writing down important notes

he’s on the fifth bullet point of his note-taking when the door behind him opens abruptly

it wasn’t loud or disrupting to the whole class, virtually no one even batted an eye

but thats because they’re far from the door

and wonpil is literally ten feet away, so when he feels the cold suddenly hit his back he had to know the source of the sudden hit in temperature

the class hadn’t been going on for less than an hour, and there have been students coming in on the other end of the auditorium

so wonpil isn’t that surprised that another student has just arrived

he caught a glimpse of her hair, but that’s about it as wonpil goes back to his tedious notes

until the very same person scoots herself in wonpil’s row

he huffs under his breath, the illusion of some privacy now shattered

with a polite (semi-forced) smile, wonpil turns to the side to greet his classmate

again, wonpil becomes frozen in spot

kind of like when you feel a magnetic pull somewhere, you follow it

and then suddenly you see it from afar, not believing your eyes if it’s actually real; if it’s actually there

in wonpil’s case, he’s one seat away from her

recognizing the flow of her hair, but more importantly

that distinct scent of coffee beans from her clothes

this time, wonpil has a clear look on her face and he’s… speechless

his polite smile has turned into a look of awe, eyes glued towards her

she senses his gaze, turns to him and quickly bows down as a polite greeting

“sorry, but has the class been going on for a while?”

she speaks

“oh, um, what— what?”

“oh,” she looks confused, but rephrases her question, “what time did the class start? i had a hard time finding this lecture hall.”

she’s talking to him, not just leaning her head on his shoulder

“seven”

was all wonpil could say

“it started at 7? cool, i’m not that late then!” she cheers, grinning shyly. wonpil watches the way she puts a strand of hair tucked beneath her ear. she’s pulling out her laptop from her bag when she notices a pair of wide eyes still on her person

“is… is this seat taken?” she asks, and wonpil hasn’t even taken in the fact that this is the same person from the bus

“yes”

tongue-tied wonpil strikes again, blinking back his own obliviousness to her question

“i mean— no, now it is, by you. you’re sitting there, um, i— feel free to sit wherever you want”

he’s scrambling for his words, flustered cheeks heating up amidst the warmth of the room

she just nods her head in understanding, and wonpil finally realizes he’s been staring at her direction for longer than he should have

“STRESS”

the professor verbalized into her mic which causes wonpil to look to the front all of a sudden

right, right. he’s at a lecture. what’s gotten him so fidgety and embarrassed and now all that he’s pretending to type on his google doc is

sdfjfjdfhshllsghgjghsh

just so he looks busy next to the girl who fell asleep on him on the bus

was there any point in preoccupying his mind with thoughts of her, and her head resting on him? no it’s stupid, wonpil knows this.

people do it all the time, by accident, due to exhaustion, they don’t mean a thing by it

but wonpil is curious, and this is going to kill him. for sure

so he peeks at her again, and like a normal, decent student that she is (compared to wonpil at this point let’s be real) her hands are busy hand writing whatever the professor was saying

meanwhile, wonpil continues to sdfjskgnglddfjs his way to a passing B in this class

even in this large, spacious lecture hall he can still take in her scent

maybe it’s a new perfume that’s up and coming, that’s why it smells so strongly on her

oh! he can ask that? hey, do you mind sharing what line of perfume you’re using? it smells really good

it sounds like a common question, right? i mean if you wear strong fragrances you’re bound to be asked a question about it

he’s about to ask, he really was so ready to ask, what was he gonna lose? his dignity?

over a simple, inquisitive question?

“and now before we go on a twenty minute break, it’s time to introduce yourself to the person sitting close to you”

...

why do college professors have to do this?

wonpil bites his lip, at this point in time he’s a senior who’s fed up with ice breakers like this. if it were any other person sitting next to him, in front of him, behind him— he would just go with his usual introduction

“hi i’m kim wonpil, studying psychology and i graduate in the spring. i’m taking this class for a major requirement”

then go about his merry way.

but with her? she and him have history

sort of, and it’s the kind of history that is recent and wonpil is unsure if she is even aware of the weird string of fate-like connection they have

or, wonpil, hear your consciousness out

it’s not a big deal, and in the scenario she doesn’t remember she fell asleep on the bus on another person

then you can just say hi like usual, and cut the string of fate there and then

(but does wonpil really want that?)

“hi”

oh crap she’s started it

wonpil braces himself for whatever outcome this interaction comes out to. he’ll let her speak, and tailor his response from there

“i’m sorry, this might be really weird but that’s your sweater, right?”

so she didn’t give her name, her major, anything substantial about herself but instead shoots wonpil a question

pointing at the sweater that’s draped on the seat in front of wonpil

wonpil doesn’t even check to look. he gulps, nods his head and squeaks, “yeah… why?”

something in her eyes flash by, almost like a glint of recognition

she puts a hand on her mouth, and wonpil can make out the faintest shade of pink blushing its way to her ears

it’s kinda cute

“did someone happen to… fall asleep on you on the bus coming to campus today?”

“... yes?”

“that was me” she buries her face even further into her hands, almost lowering down to the chair

wonpil thought she was gonna fall for some reason so he had to remedy the situation somewhat

“i.. i, um, did you have a good nap?”

great comeback

wonpil was so ready to leave the auditorium and never come back after the break

but he hears her giggle, and slowly come out of her shyness

and it’s a sweet sight, to finally see the way her cheeks look full of embarrassed laughter

as she twirls around a length of hair nervously

and taps the pen on the surface of her desk repeatedly

it was endearing, and wonpil forgets about why he was panicking in the first place

she then explains that she had work the whole day, and only had an hour to rest up before going to this 7pm class

wonpil listens intently, watching her mannerisms and the lilt in her voice when she continues to apologize for falling asleep on him without realizing it

“i’m not usually a deep sleeper, but work was exceptionally tiring today and i just needed at least a bit of shut eye” wonpil nods understandingly, almost worried about her health

“where do you work if you don’t mind me asking?”

“at the coffee shop a few blocks away from campus,” she answers, head tilting to the side “i’m still wearing my uniform for it… is it too obvious?”

wonpil didn’t even realize her black long sleeves was a cafe uniform

but it did explain her strong coffee smell

“something like that,” wonpil decided to say, curling his lips upward, feeling content and relieved at the turnout of events

for the 20 minute break, wonpil thought they’d reconcile over what transpired between them and mind their own business soon enough— even if he thinks it’s hard to do that now knowing something about her

which intrigues wonpil

and, quite frankly, he’d like to talk to her more

just so he has an excuse to watch her emotions paint her face beautifully

but there was a pause right after their short conversation

and in real Awkward Wonpil Fashion, he shows her the 30 page reading material, in all of its flimsy glory and starts asking questions about it

“so uh did you read the whole thing? i thought it was interesting up until the part that i dozed off”

and wonpil got his wish; he sees her eyes shine in surprise at his sudden attempt of an intellectual discussion

but she doesn’t deter him away

and actually, she’s read the whole damn thing. and wonpil was beyond amazed at the level of detail she explains to him about the parts he didn’t understand

he actually starts typing real notes while she was talking

this made her laugh in between her explanations, and wonpil didn’t understand what was so funny about

the fight or flight response

“it’s just. the way you’re typing this down so seriously, i’m sure the prof can explain it better”

wonpil shakes his head no, shakes it so much it hurt his temples

she laughs again, and he likes hearing that sound

“do you want to see what i’ve typed the past hour and a half of this class?’

“bet :p”

“actually nevermind” flashbacks of dsfkjsdjffdslkg ring true in wonpil’s mind as he quickly backspaces the nonsense in his notes

and the conversation continues from more psychology talks, to figuring out they’re in the same major but she’s a recent transfer student from last year

and had been juggling work and school since the start of her senior year

wonpil wonders why he hasn’t seen her in the coffee shop yet

he would have done a double take the first time meeting her there for sure

“oh you’re too kind,” she suddenly replies???

wonpil had said his thoughts out loud

without further embarrassing him, she says that she had only started working there since it’s more convenient for her; wonpil feels grateful she doesn’t dwell on the compliment any longer

alas, the break finishes and the droll of the professor’s voice reverberates throughout the room

this time, though, wonpil definitely feels more alert (awake enthusiastic) as the two of them exchange little comments about the class material

and before you know it, class is over and wonpil is an excited bunny. since they’re by the door they got to leave before everyone else

wonpil thinks it’s time to part ways… but this time they’re not fully strangers at all. they’re taking the same class, same major, they even know each other’s name.

surely this isn’t the last time, right?

“hey, wonpil…” he didn’t even realize that they have started walking towards the bus stop together

“hm?”

“i think i owe you one,” she starts, stopping her tracks to face him. eyebrows up in hesitation, wonpil waits for her to finish

“you know, for taking over your personal space for my own comfort”

“oh that? haha that’s nothing :)” honestly if wonpil can do it again he’d volunteer in a heartbeat

“no, really. let me make it up to you. coffee? on me? i make a mean cappuccino” she winks

it strikes through wonpil’s heart

no need for resuscitation.. yet

“or a matcha latte? whatever you’d like it’ll be on me”

“anything!” wonpil exclaims, suddenly realizing the offer being given to him, the excitement bubbling up inside him again. “i mean, anything you’d like to have me try. surprise me,” he corrects himself

that manages to have her grin widely, eyes twinkling in excitement similar to wonpil’s and he thinks

they can get along

they can get to know each other better this way

“would you be up to go for one now?”

“oh— oh! now?”

“yeah, that way none of us takes the risk of falling asleep back on the bus hehe”

well, he really wouldn’t mind that happening a second time

“really now, wonpil?”

andddd he exposed himself again

it’s fine, she tugs his hand slightly to lead him to the bus that has arrived and wonpil follows in a daze

it’s a little full, so they have no other choice but to stand and hold onto the railings above

“guess no falling asleep here…” she teases, and now wonpil can’t use his hands to hide his blushing face

but the feeling of her just close by

and the scent of coffee lingering in the air

in between them

just inches away from each other

it’ll do for now

#day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 au #kim wonpil scenarios #kim wonpil imagines #kim wonpil x reader #day6 fic #dot series #by:jiae

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