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archetypal-archivist · 3 years

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Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone

So this builds off of the whole "Tommy has somehow found himself on Hermitcraft after the exile arc" thing that got really popular with @redorich and @petrichormeraki on tumblr. Basically it's an excuse to give Tommy therapy and 20+ parent figures. One thing that's a common thread in those stories is that Tommy is shocked that Hermitcraft has infinite respawns and all of the hermits are quick to reassure him that he really won't perma-die in their world. And I had the thought- well, what if he wasn't in their world anymore? And thus came forth 1500+ words of angst~

It begins like this. Evil X is stuck in the void, alone and with no one to talk to. He misses daylight, he misses touch, he misses hearing voices other than his own. One day, he sees something get shot through the void as if by slingshot, leaving a trail of code in its wake, tethering the whatever it is back the way it came. This is Tommy, and while he begins to get adjusted to Hermitcraft and company, Evil X watches as the string of code begins to imprint itself into the void, and eventually learns that he can interact with it, albeit only on the most superficial of levels. On Tommy's end, he slowly begins to heal from his time spent in the war zone that is the Dream SMP, making fast friends with Grian and several of the other hermits in the process. He goes pranking with his newest, winged older brother figure, laughs at the antics of Impulse, Tango, and Zedaph, builds a cobblestone tower with BDubs, etc. But for all that he's healing, such a process isn't linear. No one on the server can truly understand just what sort of stuff he has been through, and so he often finds himself alone, trying to deal with his wildest emotions by talking to himself.

One day, however, a little voice in his head starts talking back. It's rough and gravelly and not very nice at first, but it's faint enough that he chalks it up to his imagination and moves on with his life. He follows Stress around like a duckling for a day, plays squire for Welsknight, and has a roaring panic attack after an unfortunate spar with False leads to him getting flashbacks to the Pit with Technoblade. He retreats back to his tower for a good cry, and in the midst of his tears, he hears the voice again. This time it's a bit nicer, sounding unsure and a bit panicky as it tries to encourage him to stop crying, god this is awkward, kid, it'll be fine. Wait, are you a kid? You seem tall for a munchkin.

This time, Tommy knows that it isn't his imagination, but half of his old server seemed to have voices in their heads so he really isn't all that alarmed that he seemed to have developed one of his own too. And he does something that no one else does when Evil X reaches out- he starts talking back. It's rough going, at first, especially since both of them have abrasive personalities, but eventually they settle into a rough estimation of friendship that means more to them then they are willing to say. From Evil X's perspective, this is the first time someone has actually listened to him and hasn't been turned away by his violent streak, his bad manners, and lack of proper social skills. For Tommy, this is a chance to vent to someone who seems to understand his pain. It helps that neither of them are inclined to ask too many questions. Tommy, on his part, has no clue that Evil X is an actual person and not a voice in his head, while Evil X can't bring himself to ask why Tommy has left a trail of code in the void and why it's all so glitched. He especially fears asking about the perma-death clause that seems to naturally have occurred in his code.

He will come to regret this choice.

The day is like any other, at first. He begins his day with a slice of sweet melon and then flies off to whatever hermits are awake at the time to "share a meal with them." Really, it started as an excuse to make sure that Tommy was eating at least one meal day, even in his most dissociative of states, but has since turned into an opportunity to eat weird things in front of people to see their reactions. (Etho is his favorite. He's always up early and half the time, asks to try a bite of whatever Tommy is having. They both agree that spider eyes taste a lot like sour boba.) From there it's off to the shopping district to restock his dirt shop and claim his share of the profits from the hole-digging service he runs with Grian. After that, there's just enough time to complete an order or two and collect more cobble and dirt before he has to meet up with Grian to go on their biweekly End Busting session. The two usually have a lot of fun as they go about it, Tommy jokingly shoving Grian off the platform only for his adopted brother to catch himself and fly up to join him on the narrow platform spanning the emptiness once again. Every once in a while, Grian mock-threatens to do the same in return, but he knows better than to actually attempt it after he did it once and had had to catch Tommy when he started screaming and even after they had gotten back to solid ground, he wouldn't stop for the better part of half an hour.

On habits die hard, after all. Tommy may have been told time and time again by everyone on the server that infinite respawns are a thing, yes really, but he still has a hard time believing it. He actually has a rather insane number of levels racked up- even more than Xisuma, which is impressive- because in all the months that he has been on Hermitcraft, he hasn't died once. It's a combination of survival skills taught to him by Philza and his own paranoia which has kept him alive for so long, and most of the hermits agree that it is rather impressive, if not entirely healthy for him to be so scared of dying. (Doc once offered to kill him as evidence that yes, it really is safe here and you will respawn, but for all that death by crazy redstone machine might of been cool, Tommy took a hard pass on that. Grian low key took exception to Doc offering to kill his adopted little brother, really man? Not cool.)

Anyway, Grian and Tommy meet up in the End and start off bridging with the insane amount of cobble that Tommy has stored up. Usually Tommy is in front, placing the stones, and Grian is in back, watching out for any sign of a slip up, but this time they decide to switch it up a bit, head in a new direction, play around with who's doing what this time. It ends... poorly. They bridge out into the black, on and on and on, farther into the void than they ever have before. Slowly, the islands of floating white stone stop appearing with such frequency, but they become larger in size and stranger in shape. Every once in a while Grian will see what he swears to be a glowing white mountain of Endstone in the distance, although Tommy calls bullshit each and every time. They chalk it all up to bad luck and going nuts from boredom, but really, neither one of them knows how to quit while they're ahead. As the islands disappear altogether and all that remains to orient themselves is the tenuous lifeline of cobblestone beneath their feet, the unthinkable happens.

Grian slips. And Tommy, taught compassion by the very world that will now kill him, reaches out to save him.

For one, brief moment, the two brothers clasp hands- and then Grian's weight pulls Tommy right over the edge and down, down, down into the void below.

Grian fell out of the world.

Tommy fell out of the world... and into a new one.

----

Xisuma wakes up late that day. He's been doing that a lot, if he's honest, given how late he's staying up most nights finishing up builds and the like. Those hours of sleep have to come from somewhere, after all, and he's far from an early bird. He gives into the impulse to relax a bit, drinking some tea sweetened with just enough honey to rot his teeth, and then heads off to his computer room to start up his duties as admin for the day. It's the red lights that alert him to something being wrong, and at first, he thinks it's just one of hermits' cam accounts being buggy again. Perhaps it got shut off while the hermit was bridging through the void and the hermit in question simply hadn't retrieved it yet? But who would name their cam account Tommyinnit? The looming dread sits cold in his gut as he flicks his fingers to open up his admin panel... Best to check, just in case.

The death messages are clear enough- Keralis had just perished to a ravager yesterday, likely Tango's from Decked Out if he had to guess. Zedaph had been slain by a piglin twenty minutes ago. And Grian and Tommy had fallen into the void. But if that were the case... why had only one of them respawned?

On Grian's part, he comes to with a lingering chill deep in his bones and an awful headache. The bed underneath him is warm and the sheets are a soft rosy color, likely one of the ones in Scar's magical village if the persistent smell of spruce is anything to go by. He winces against the light filtering through the window and turns to the side, squinting at where Tommy had placed his blue bed right next to his, apology on his lips for his stupid mistake. The sheets are undisturbed. Huh. That's weird, he could have sworn that he and Tommy had set their respawn points at the same time. Maybe Tommy had just forgotten and he was back in his base or at spawn? Grian rises to his feet slowly, giving his body time to adjust to the colors and sounds of the Overworld, then flaps his wings and takes off to go looking for his Tommy.

He doesn't find him.

---

The reactions to Tommy's "death" are many and varied, although for the most part, the hermits are split into two camps- those that think Tommy is gone for good, and those that think he may still be out there somewhere. For the first few days of Tommy's disappearance, most everyone is in the latter camp. Xisuma spends hours upon hours scanning the code, becoming increasingly more frazzled and terrified as his lack of sleep gets to him. Tango and Doc join him in the endeavor, although none of them have any luck or are able to spot the piece of code that caused the problem. No additions, no changes to the text, nothing. Grian leads the other team, those who set out on foot and one wing and with pick in hand to scour the world for their youngest charge, taken from them too soon. They begin in a grid pattern, setting out in ones and twos to search the whole world, but as the distance increases, the neat, orderly flyovers turn into frenzied boosting as panic starts to get the better of them. Some of them hold onto their composure better than others, but Grian ends up flying over the same patch of forest three times because he can't see for his tears. False, Impulse, Welsknight, and Beef cross the Nether, fighting their way into Bastion after Bastion and leaving Nether portals in their wake. In their tracks comes the fliers- Grian, Ren, Iskall, and BDubs. Each one takes a portal and does a sweep through the corresponding patch of Overworld before picking a direction to continue the search. Cubfan, iJevin, and Scar take to the seas, Mumbo, Stress, xB, and Zedaph to the End, Etho down into the depths of the caves below. Strangely enough, there are a few hermits who don't join the search- Keralis, who got the unlucky task of taking care of Xisuma and the others searching through the code, Tinfoilchef, who doesn't provide a reason but everyone gives him a pass because of his age, and Joe Hills and Zombie Cleo, who refuse to explain themselves.

Eventually, the searches dry up. Eventually, some of the hermits admit defeat. Hundreds of thousands of blocks out from spawn, down to the bedrock below, beneath sea and sky and every place that lacks the sun. How far is too far? For Xisuma, enough is enough. Tommy is dead. The search is over.

He stops looking. And soon, others do the same.

And the tone of the server... shifts.

For the first time that any of them can remember, a person has perma-died. Sure, they've all heard the rumors, of servers where infinite respawns is not the norm, of servers where the world glitched and a creeper is supercharged enough to damage a player down to their code. But they'd never thought that one of their own would be on the receiving end of such a curse. And to the hermits, the possibility of dying themselves suddenly becomes all too real. The constant flying is the first to go, and for those that insist on it anyway (outside of Grian, who has wings), checking the elytras' durability becomes more than just a habit. Eating spider eyes and other junk is out of the question, now it's golden apples or nothing. The Nether is all but abandoned, as is the End, and everyone on the server either groups up so that they are never alone, or retreats into their bases, becoming true hermits befitting of their server's name.

The joy that had once been so characteristic of the server is gone, and in the hearts of all, there lingers the dread that any one of them might be next- although, there are still those that hold on to hope that Tommy may not be as gone as he seems.

---

The hermits who think Tommy is dead for good and have stopped searching: Doc, Etho, Xisuma, Welsknight, Grian, BDubs, Cubfan, TinfoilChef, Stress, False, Iskall.

The hermits who think Tommy is still out there, alive if still missing, and that the search should continue: Keralis, Mumbo, Tango, Vintage Beef, Impulse, Zedaph, Joe Hills, Zombie Cleo, Scar, Rendog, xB.

Doc and Etho are old. They don't like to admit it, but they've been around since the beginning, back when players were first learning how to jump servers and communicator technology was undergoing its first upgrade. They've seen a lot and know well by now that dead is dead. Tommy is dead. All that is left to do is mourn and move on, and they have shed their tears already. Call them cold for it, but in the face of a kind of drive that can keep a man going after his entire server has burnt down around his ears (Mindcrack will be missed), they know they need to keep moving forward. There are enough broken messes on the server these days, and it is through their efforts that shops remain stocked and the torches don't burn out. They hold onto normalcy with an iron grip and hope that some day, the rest of the hermits will join them in rationality.

Stress too has a comparatively healthy approach to all of this. She doesn't want it to be true, god no, but so far everything is pointing in the direction of Tommy being dead for good. She eats a couple dozen bowls of ice cream, has a some good cries, doesn't leave her base for a week, and even afterwards she can't bring herself to wear pink for a while. But she's mourning. She's accepted things. She lets her heart break, and as time passes, she lets herself heal. And that's enough for her.

Scar is of the opinion that Tommy is still out there, and while he clings to that hope with all his might, it's fragile and Cub just knows that his best friend is going to be cut to pieces when that hope inevitably breaks. So he takes Scar aside for a quiet conversation, to break his heart before the world can break it for him. Afterwards, Scar stops talking about Tommy as if he's coming back, but his smile is never as bright as it was before. And Cub's heart breaks too.

Team ZIT swings the exact opposite way as the rest and are firmly of the belief that permadeath is impossible and thus Tommy must be alive. The three of them aren’t known for their impulse control at the best of times, and with so many hermits having given up, the trio is rightfully vicious about the fact that the others, in their eyes, have abandoned their friend. Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango all kind of feed into one another and start doing lots of dangerous stunts, as if daring the universe to permakill them and prove them wrong. If one of them does something, the other two join in and escalate things, which gets impossibly dangerous very, very fast. Tango is furious, Impulse is bitter, and Zedaph is straight up heartbroken that his other friends would give up on another of their number. They do things like fly incredibly high, go cliff jumping in the Nether only to catch themselves at the last minute, and sprint across the End bridges. If they have doubts, they never voice them. Even when Tango feels like he’s burning up from the inside and wonders at his newfound hate. Even when Impulse is utterly terrified but goes along with things anyway because Tango is doing it and he can’t bear to leave a friend alone. Even when Zedaph looks at his friends and can’t help but feel scared of and for these strangers wearing the faces he knows so well. Even then.

Team ZIT often gets dragged into and starts lots of screaming fights with the other hermits who believe Tommy is dead, especially Doc, BDubs, xB, and False. False especially gets vicious, as while pvp is no longer permitted on the server, her tongue is as sharp as any blade. She believes firmly that the others are trampling on Tommy’s memory by insisting that he isn’t dead and she is determined to make them stop. And if they refuse to give up their foolishness? Well, all she might have left is her words but with them she will make them bleed.

xB and Vintage Beef are as close to neutral as you are going to get from those that get into regular arguments. xB thinks Tommy is dead until proven otherwise, while Beef thinks the exact reverse. As some of the more chill hermits, they often get dragged in to play negotiator so that the fights don’t turn physical. And some days, when someone says something particularly hurtful, they’ll close themselves up in one of xB’s bunkers and drink until they can no longer remember why they ought to be enemies. It’s hardly healthy, but they both agree that it’s better this way. Better to forget than to hurt, after all.

Grian is… somewhat the same. Sort of. He was traumatized by Tommy, the boy he adopted as his little brother, dying before his eyes, and he can’t help but blame himself. That is, when he can remember that Tommy is dead at all. After the fall, Grian’s mind was badly broken and he couldn’t accept that his little brother was dead for the longest time. He fell into two weeks of deep depression, barely eating or drinking, and eventually Iskall came and took care of him when he realized that he hadn’t seen his buddy in ages. Iskall nursed Grian back to health, only to feel his heart shatter in his breast when Grian turned to him, eyes feverishly bright and tone childlike, asking where Tommy was. The winged man’s mind couldn’t cope with the loss so it had shut down entirely, making him forget the tragedy that had occured. Iskall had deflected then, frantically trying to figure out what to say, but after a few days of Grian wandering about in a dreamlike state, his memory came back to him and he collapsed in on himself once more. The winged hermit is now locked in a loop of this, while poor Iskall is stuck trying to keep his friend alive and relatively sane.

Iskall, for his part, thinks Tommy is well and truly dead. In part because of his own certainty, in part because anything else would be even crueler for Grian. He doesn’t resent his friend for his break downs, just quietly bundles him up and clutches him close, coaxing him to eat and bathe, to put down the guilt and realize that it’ll be okay, the world won’t end with Tommy gone. He gently tries to nudge Grian down that path of acceptance of Tommy’s fate, and though he faces many setbacks, he tackles each one with a special kind of patience born of platonic love. They’re bros, despite everything. It’s only right.

Mumbo is, weirdly enough, on the side of Tommy being alive. Iskall doesn’t exactly approve and while he and Mumbo sometimes get into whispered arguments over it, they try to keep their little disagreements from Grian. Both of them only want to see their friend happy again, and will do just about anything to make it happen. For Mumbo, this means putting together crazy redstone contraptions to try and find Tommy again, as he’s certain that Grian’s little brother is still out there somewhere- and he has a piece that might prove it. Iskall comes over one day, face drawn and haggard from a night of soothing Grian through another set of screaming nightmares, only to find Mumbo waist high in redstone wiring, all hooked up to a strange portal design that looks too much like Doc’s infinity portal from season 6 for comfort. At the top of the arch is Tommy’s compass, needle whirling about like a hurricane, and while the portal isn’t lit, it does give off a faint blue-black glow. Iskall is frightened that Mumbo is tampering with something that could get him killed and Mumbo rushes to reassure him that no, the compass was specifically linked to Tommy so if Tommy was really dead, it would have been reset, right? He’s merely borrowing that tie to try and figure out where the two ends lead. Iskall is less than sure about this, especially since Mumbo is just as drawn and pale as he is, if a bit more covered in redstone, but they agree that fighting is pointless. They care about each other and about Grian too much to put any of them through that sort of pain- and besides, there’s more than enough fighting on the server already.

Ren too thinks that Tommy is alive and he is one of the ones who gets into regular fights. He’s a lover, not a fighter, but something about this whole situation just burns him up. When the pressure gets too much, he goes flying, tracing over those old familiar trails they searched so long ago, trying to see if there is anything they missed. There never is.

Welsknight has made his peace with Tomy’s death, though the server tends to forget that he and Tommy were closer than most. He alone knew that Tommy was once upon a time a boy called Theseus (a name given to him shyly when Tommy had asked him if there were any great heroes with that name that didn’t die). He alone knew Tommy’s love for horses, or that he would spend hours whispering horror stories to them when he thought no one would hear. Tommy was his squire, and although he had accepted the tragedy, he still wept for the hurt it brought him. He alone knew of the little grave he had dug under the willow tree in his castle courtyard and the headstone he had placed there, engraved with Tommy’s true name, death date, and supposed date of birth. He couldn’t have been more than 17, and perhaps that was what hurt the most. Every morning at dawn, Welsknight brings a bouquet of flowers to that little grave and says a prayer before disappearing into the morning fog. The flowers are always the same- forget me nots, for remembrance, violets, for devotion, and clover. (Think of me).

Tinfoilchef stays out of it- always has and always will. He’s too old to rush about searching or to feel as wildly as the others do. He feels, of course, but more so as the mountain does, steady and strong despite the winds that tear at its surface. Tommy is dead, but then, so are many of the people he has known in his life. It’s best to just keep plodding along.

BDubs is a mess. He had never spoken of it, but long before he had come to hermitcraft, he had had a daughter- a beautiful baby girl whose heart was too big for her chest, and she had died for that difference. He had grieved for years, but eventually the peace of the hermitcraft server had left him soothed, if a bit different than before. Tommy had been another chance at fatherhood, not that he could ever bear to call the teen that, even in the privacy of his own mind. Instead, he had taught the kid to build cobblestone towers that weren’t entirely offensive (if shaped a bit oddly) and had been the first to volunteer any time Grian was out and Tommy needed a place to spend the night when the nightmares were particularly fierce. They had so many fun sleepovers like that, and staring at those awful cobble towers in the distance, BDubs can’t help but bawl his eyes out at the memories. He waffles between taking the towers down or leaving them up- they really are ugly, and the feelings in his chest that they inspire are even more so, but somehow, he can’t bear to see them gone. Instead, he dries his eyes, flies off to grab a shulker of cobble, and sets about adding a few more to their number. A final remembrance for the boy he would have gladly claimed as his own, if only he hadn’t been too late. (He ends up building a lot more than a few).

Joe and Cleo are somehow the only ones who are actually neutral in the whole mess. Whenever they are asked their opinion on if Tommy is truly dead or not, the pair simply smile mysteriously and refuse to comment. Joe always seems to know more than he lets on and Cleo is his closest confidant, after all. Despite the anger and tears directed their way for refusing to commit to either side, the two keep their silence. (They know the truth of the matter, after all. Everything will be okay in time).

Xisuma has given up. Tommy is dead, and there is nothing he can do but spend days and days going over the code with a fine tooth comb, trying to find the glitch that cut the life of their youngest member short. Keralis takes it upon himself to take care of his long time friend, but it’s not an easy task, not when the other is so determined to make sure that such an incident never happens again. And Keralis can’t find it in himself to complain, especially since he is laboring under the impression that Xisuma agrees that Tommy is still out there and is trying to find him. It is only when Keralis mentions it in an aside, thanking the admin for his dedication, that Xisuma breaks the illusion and explains. Tommy isn’t just dead, he says tiredly, his very presence is well and truly wiped from the world’s code. All that is left of him is the faint impression his code had left behind, and trying to read it and understand what went wrong is a bit like trying to read small letters that have been drawn out in dry sand. Even for a voidwalker like himself such a task is near impossible, and Xisuma can only do so much. The needs of the many above the needs of the few- best to secure those he can now than worry over those that are gone beyond his reach. And Keralis can’t help but look at his friend with new eyes, a fleeting sense of betrayal in his heart. He had thought better of his Shishwammy, and he says as much.

He cries while Xisuma watches on in solemn, mournful silence.

---

TBC :)

#hermitcraft #minecraft #fanfiction #dream smp #hermit tommy au #angst #My writing #i'm proud of this one

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yandere-wishes · 4 years

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Yandere Charcter Encyclopedia

A list of some requested charcters and the types of yandere’s they would be. I might open requests for a part two later idk yet.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Twisted Wonderland

Vil Schoenheit is controlling and possessive.

You need to be the BEST!

It's more so this lovesick notion that Vil seems to be "in love with" rather than you as a person. No one knows exactly why Vil chose you as his dearly significant other and Vil has never given any inkling as to why he favors you above everybody else. It's a paradox, an unsolvable mystery. But the truth is Vil fell in love with you, not for your looks, nor your personality, heck you didn't even really do some outstanding gesture that pulled at his heartstrings, no, instead you did nothing. Confusing, I know but let me explain, you were a nobody. No breathtaking looks, no fantastic personality, no influential family. There was NOTHING special about you! This means you had the potential to be something special, something extraordinary and the only person in the universe who could raise you to such levels was nonother than the head of Pomfiore, Vil Schoenheit!

Every day he spends hours making sure you look perfect, a face painted in just the right ways to make others believe you had the features of an angel sent from above. Posture so straight, shoulders pulled back to make others think you were the long lost heiress to some fallen family. Never once did you speak out of place or with a tone harboring too many emotions, every word that left your mouth was so well thought out and prepared that others could only suspect you were some sort of genius.

You were nothing, that's what made Vil notice you in the first place, that's what made him mold you into the perfect someone. Whatever you are now is only thanks to your darling, caring lover...never forget that.

Rook Hunt is delusional.

Rook's brain is an incredibly messed up place and it only gets worst the longer he's around you. You are a little rabbit, nimble and sweet and he is the hunter that wants to stick a bow right through your beating heart, a lovely pair you two make, wouldn't you agree? But the more he stalks you, following you around like a second shadow. The more he realizes that he doesn't want you simply for the thrill of a small chase...oh no, he wants to keep you. Put you in a golden cage and throw away the key. You're not some rare catch like le roi des lions or a breathtaking sight like le roi des poisons. No instead you're simple, you aren't a game of nither wit nor strength, you are simply a game of love. Because you love him already don't you? You know he's been following you and doesn't do anything about it because you want him to catch you, right? You want the greatest hunter to hit you with his cupid's arrow so you can fall into his awaiting arms, right where you belong!

Azul is manipulative (were you guys seriously expecting something else?)

Azul is all calculations and deals, all wit and talk. He's got guts to go up against just about anyone he meets and he’s smart enough to turn them into a fish out of water. So maybe it was his confidence that let’s you slip away with lax deals, bending the rules for a helpless little angelfish such as yourself. He doesn't notice that he has feelings for you, not until you stroll into the VIP room of the Mostro Lounge looking for your "dearest friend Azul", all to simply ask him for a contract to make the lousy excuse of an Ignyhide dorm leader fall in love with you. It's then and there that Azul decides it's time to toughen up the rules, tighten the noose around your pretty little neck. You don't even notice until you're rejected by Idia and some strang red string is dragging you into Azul's waiting embrace.

Kalim is delusional and obsessive.

To Kalim, this is just another heart-filled game. You belong to him and he belongs to you, it's simple! The two of you are so in love...it's just you're a little shy when it comes to admitting it! That's okay, Kalim knows a few drinks from the land of hot sands that will loosen your tongue and if that fails there's always Jamil's hypnosis magic that can make you confess! Look, no matter how you go about it, Kalim is just all so convinced that you love him that it doesn't matter what you really think!

Ruggie is manipulative (Lord have mercy on you people the day I finally muster up the courage to write Savancalw yandere headcanons)

Oh sure, male hyenas are passive when it comes to females everyone knows that! But whilst Ruggie does follow -albeit loosely- the reserved yet desperate routines of hyena courtship, he leans more towards suffocating his chosen mate with his presence rather than showing a desperate side of himself. He's always circling his chosen darling, stalking them down the halls, trailing after them all over campus, he never leaves them alone. Any confrontations from his darling will lead to an immediate sob story. Something about how he could smell food in your bag and didn't have any money to buy his own meal or maybe about how he never met a girl as cute as you in slums so he had no idea how to approach you properly. Of course, this is all a hoax, he just needs you to drop your guard, to look him in the eyes with your sad, heart-throbbing orbs, then it's game over, you're all his. "Hey, what's with the dull face? come on, laugh with me skskksks~".

Jack is a protective.

It's only natural really, wolves are overprotective when it comes to their pack members and sure maybe you aren't really a part of his pack per se. But that doesn't mean he's just going to leave you to fend for yourself. You're all so small and frail, you could never hold your own against anyone! Let alone all the mages in NRC. But Jack can, he can protect you and defend himself, it's not a problem. He's very likely torn on whether or not to actually kidnap his darling. On one hand, he doesn't want you to hate him for stealing you away from your friends, he wouldn't want to play the role of the big bad wolf in your story. But on the other hand, poor Jack just isn't lucid enough to fully understand that whisking you away is wrong. In the end, you probably just wind up in his room locked away, or better yet, protected from all the horrors of the outside world.

Deuce is an obsessive

He just wants to be around you all the time. It's mostly some deep routed paranoia that at any fleeting moment you'll somehow abandon him finding refuge with either Cater or Ace. Maybe you find their lazy stupid mannerisms amusing, is that it? If you want lazy, he can be lazy too! Or maybe you want to be with Riddle? Do you like guys who are mean spirited and quick to anger? He can yell! He can yell so much better than Riddle can! Deuce will do anything, anything at all to get you to stay with him. Even if some of his tactics are a little more painful and involve some broken bones.

Hypnosis Mic

Jakurai is possessive and protective

He's overbearing to put it simply, constantly hovering around you, ghosting his fingers over your flesh, or leaving lingering kisses on any patch of exposed skin. First and foremost Jakurai is a doctor, so it's his nature to be nurturing, sure you can accept that much. But what he does to you isn't nurturing in any way shape or form! Juakurai isn't above using sedatives and other forms of medications to keep you compliant, that's not what a good doctor should do, you're both lucid enough to know that. But to Ill-Doc you leave him no other choice, you're constantly disobeying him, trying to find some underhanded way to leave him. So what else can the poor man do! He needs to keep his only escape from the tedious loneliness he's been cursed with, safe!

kamigami no asobi

Balder is possessive and obsessive

He can't help it, there's just something so radiant and sparkling inside of you, something that he can't let get tainted by the darkness that rests within others. You're always walking on thin ice around him, chewing every single word before conversing, calculating every single step before daring to make the slightest move. One wrong look or miscalculated word could get him to spiral into a fit madness, and this time there won't be anyone to save you. But that's only if you do the wrong thing! Just keep playing the role of the loving, adoring girlfriend and there won't be any further...complications. If you simply show him how much you love him, Balder can become all so sickly sweet. A perfect doting boyfriend, constantly sharing his precious meat with you and dressing you up in prettiest lavish gowns from Asgard.

Obey me

Asmodeus is sneaky

The avatar of lust is used to swift meaningless relationships, too caught up in the passion and pleasure to really care about the other person. But with his darling things are different. Oh sure, the lust and sexual tension is still there, always hovering around the air like a thick unbreakable fog. Accept this time there's something else, a sort of jealous aroma blowing through the dense mist. It's intoxicating, making Asmoudaus crave only his little darling, he only wants to look at them, touch them, kiss only them! It's almost like he's addicted to every itty bitty detail about his newfound lover. Will Asmodeus get bored of the relationship over time? Absolutely! But will he ever actually leave his darling to their own devices? Hell no! Asmodeus may have the right to cheat on his darling but they can NEVER so much as think about another man other than him! HE.OWNS.THEM! Their body, mind, soul, it all belongs to him!

Black Butler

Snake is Jealous (I haven't written for black butler since, like, sixth grade)

Snake does love you, this is an evident fact, he never once leaves your side. It's suffocating sure, but it's only because the scaled boy is so paranoid that you might run away with someone else, someone normal. His snakes (mostly Emily) are always chaining the two of you together, constantly curling around your skin so you won't get any ideas to escape. Lord forbid you so much as look at another man, that'll make the white-haired snake charmer go into a fit of pure utter rage. normally Snake won't punish you, but when his jealousy gets too much to keep inside he'll let it out by screaming at you. Asking you if you find him repulsive if you wish to leave him for someone who looks normal. This will than lead to him crushing you in his arms, begging you not to leave him! Overall Snake is one of the tamer yandere of the Phantomhive residence, a real blessing in disguise.

mystic messenger

Saeyoung is obsessive

It's really all just a small accident, this was never really meant to happen, he wasn't meant to fall in love with you. Saeyoung probably just came across your profile whilst on the web, scrolling through some database or another. like I said, IT.WAS.AN.ACCIDENT...and yet all so many times accidents can lead to something...more. Saeyoung doesn't know what particular thing it was about you that caught his attention, maybe it was your cute face or some little odd, out of place detail in your bio. Either way, it has the red-haired hacker surfing through every site just to learn more about you. Picking the internet apart just to find out some small fragments of your personal life. It's become a sort of hobby -addiction- of his, stalking your every move through trackers and reverse cameras. One day he might even gather the courage to speak to you in person, but for now, he's content watching your pretty face from behind a screen.

Code Realize

Impey is Obessasive and clingy

It's your smile, right from the get-go, Impey was enthralled by your cheerful smile. It makes his heart skip a beat, his palms grow sweaty, and his breath hitches in his throat. He just adores that pearly white grin. He's constantly pestering you, poking your cheek, and asking you to smile for him just once more. "Just a small smile, please~". His clinginess is mostly due to the fear of losing you or more so having you stolen from him. That's why he never let's go of your hand and is constantly locking you in his room. "I'm the only one that deserves to see that smile" it's such a childish phrase, primarily when it's accompanied by his renowned pout. Of course, things start to go downhill when you outright refuse to smile. Choosing instead to cry and scream, begging someone to save you from this mad man. Impey is borderline delusional if he thinks you'll ever smile for him again, after the stunt he's pulled.

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juju-on-that-yeet · 4 years

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Unravel, Chapter 6/20

Work Summary: Antisepticeye has a plan to destroy Darkiplier, steal his power, and take over everything - and he might just succeed. What starts with Yandereplier going missing evolves into a messy web of betrayal and grief, of blood and tears, of old wounds and new faces. However this ends, Ego Inc. will never be the same again. Chapter Summary: Dr. Iplier finds himself somewhere new, facing Yandere’s kidnapper. The truth comes out and the situation escalates in one horrifying swoop. Warnings: Mind control, violence, blood, death threats, non-con touching, brief suicide mention

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

“Hey, wake up already, I only gave you a little bit.”

Dr. Iplier groans. He wakes slowly, confused. It takes him a long moment to remember what happened. But it comes to him moment by moment, the strange feeling, the cabinet closing, the empty box, the static, the syringe, the static –

Dr. Iplier gasps awake, jolting into full awareness. He’s sitting in a chair, his arms and legs tied down. He’s somewhere he’s never seen before, somewhere cold and dirty, somewhere with wood floors and wood walls. The person standing in front of him grins, Cheshire-like and sharp.

“There you are! I only needed you out for a minute, it’s been nearly ten.”

Dr. Iplier pales.

“Anti!?”

“Who else?”

Anti stands before Dr. Iplier in his classic black t-shirt and dark, forest-green hair to complement his green-tinged skin. His ears are gauged, his throat is slit and bleeding slightly. His eyes, one bright blue and one glowing green, are glinting with barely-restrained glee.

“Where am I?” Dr. Iplier gasps, trying not to sound afraid. “This isn’t your hideout!”

“No, it’s not,” Anti says, “Or at least, it’s not my main one. I knew you guys would come looking for me, so I figured I needed another place to hide my secrets.” Anti laughs at Dr. Iplier’s bewildered expression. “I’ll admit though, I’ve had this place on reserve for a while, off the grid. Not completely, though. I mean, hello!” He points to himself and glitches, pixels scattering and reforming. “But as much as it could be. We’re out in, oh, what are the words, a little wood cabin in the middle of nowhere?”

“You mean…?”

“Oh no, not the cabin, who knows where that thing is. But it’s fitting, isn’t it? It’s a handy place to have, for sure, especially after your esteemed leaders tore my main hideout apart.” Anti pauses, leaning closer to Dr. Iplier. “You’re looking for someone, aren’t you?”

“If you remember their visit,” Dr. Iplier mutters, “You know damn well who we’re looking for.”

“Ohhh, someone’s grumpy!” Anti laughs, as though he’s looking at a hissing kitten. “You won’t be talking so tough in a minute. I have something to show you. You’re only the second Iplier to see this place.”

Dr. Iplier’s heart simultaneously sinks and soars. He knows what Anti means even before he glitches away for a moment and returns with another person.

It’s Yandere. It’s Dr. Iplier’s son, his boy, his baby, the one he’s been missing, the one he’s been lonely for, the one he’s been afraid of losing forever, standing before him in the flesh, whole, alive…but wrong.

It’s mostly his eyes. There’s no whites, no pupils, no chocolate brown, only static, black and white and lifeless. He faces Dr. Iplier, but he stares through him, seeing nothing. His entire face is slack, mouth open. His hair is dirty, greasy, his normally-bright ruby bangs are now dull and dusty red. His cheek is bruised, as are places on his arms and legs. He’s peppered with cuts, his neck is mottled purple and red, his nails are chipped and dirty. He’s too thin. His breathing is wheezy. He stands limply, like the slightest tap might knock him down, yet his posture is mostly straight, like a doll meticulously positioned.

Or a puppet.

“Yan,” Dr. Iplier gasps, staring at his child with undisguised horror.

“Don’t bother trying to talk to him,” Anti says casually, “He doesn’t care about what anyone has to say but me. He won’t remember this later, anyway.” He points to Yandere’s buzzing, static eyes. “He can barely string together a coherent thought with all the static floating around in his brain right now. So we can talk about anything, no need to worry about what Yan’ll remember.”

“How did you do this?” Dr. Iplier asks, quiet with shock. “There’s measures in place to keep you out…”

“Yeah, but I’ll tell you a secret.” Anti leans in towards Dr. Iplier again. “They don’t completely work. I couldn’t manifest all the way; otherwise I would’ve kidnapped him sooner. But I could sneak my static into the things he listened to, I could put glitches in the things he watched.” Anti grins, voice darkening. “I could put little messages into his head about how nice the static is, how pretty it is, how fun it is to listen to it. How fun it is to obey it. To submit. It took some patience, but eventually he was putty in my hands, and none of you suspected a thing.”

“So the storm, the blackout…”

“Actually, that’s the one thing I can’t take credit for.” Anti shrugs. “I still needed a way to manifest in the building, and the storm was my chance. I may have lent some power to the lightning bolt that hit the building, though. And when I left, I made sure to leave a little path through the coding so I could come back after the Googles fixed everything again. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having our lovely chat.”

“You mean you wouldn’t be having your monologue,” Dr. Iplier snaps.

Anti grins again, but there’s something different about it. Before Dr. Iplier can figure out what, Anti raises a hand and strikes Yandere across the face, his nails splitting open Yandere’s cheek.

“Yan!!” Dr. Iplier cries, lurching forward against his bonds.

“I’m in control here,” Anti says, eyes glittering with rage, mouth still grinning. “Yandere is my puppet. You are my prisoner. He already knows his place, and you had better learn yours. I’d hate to have to skin him alive right here in front of you, but I will if you make me.” He glitches a knife into his hand, holds it under Yandere’s chin. “Are you going to make me?”

“No, no, please,” Dr. Iplier begs. A tear runs down his cheek.

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Yandere, for his part, doesn’t even react to the slap. It snaps his head to the side, and he merely slowly turns his head back to face Dr. Iplier again. There’s three lines in his cheek from Anti’s nails, dripping blood down his face.

“Maybe you should’ve listened to Wilford after all,” Anti says with a shrug. “Not that he had any real reason to keep suspecting me; he had no evidence but a hunch and his own paranoia. But you know what they say about broken clocks.” He pauses. “Come to think of it, Jackieboy mentioned how quiet I’ve been lately. I guess you guys had plenty of hints, you just ignored them.”

“How…how do you know about all that?” Dr. Iplier asks, tears still falling from earlier.

“C’mon Doc, don’t you remember my PAX video?” Anti laughs. His hair fades into yellow-green, his eyes turn black. “I’m always there, always watching. I know everything.” He laughs again at Dr. Iplier’s shocked expression as his hair and eyes return to normal. “Hey, hey, I wanna show you something cool.”

“Wh…What?” Dr. Iplier asks, feeling as though he has no other choice.

“Watch this.”

Anti steps closer to Yandere, getting into his personal space. Yandere doesn’t react, doesn’t move away.

“Yandere.”

Yandere turns his head and looks at Anti, still expressionless.

“Who’s your senpai?” Anti grins, draping an arm around Yandere’s shoulder.

“You,” Yandere answers without hesitation, voice monotone.

It’s so unlike Yandere, so unlike his normal emotional self, so unlike his normal personality, that Dr. Iplier sobs.

“Try again,” Anti says, prodding Yandere’s bleeding cheek with one finger. “Say my name this time.”

“You are my senpai, Anti-sama,” Yandere says, still dull and lifeless.

“Did you hear that??” Anti cackles, dropping his head into Yandere’s shoulder to laugh. “He used “-sama”!” He grins at Dr. Iplier, all teeth. “I’m his god now.” He looks back to Yandere with a smile that’s almost gentle. “You’ve really taken well to your conditioning. Good boy, Yandere.” He ruffles Yandere’s hair, raking through the greasy strands with his long nails, and while Yandere’s expression doesn’t change, his posture perks up, like some part of him enjoys the praise.

Dr. Iplier just feels sick, seeing Anti pet Yandere’s hair like he used to.

“Don’t touch him,” he gasps.

“Why not?” Anti asks, leaning in close to Yandere, nose to nose. “He doesn’t mind, see?” He takes Yandere’s chin, turns his face forward again, and licks a line up Yandere’s cheek, tongue running a long stripe through the drying blood there.

“Get away from him!!” Dr. Iplier screams, fighting against his restraints, tears pouring down his face in earnest. “Let go of him, don’t touch my son!!”

“He’s not your anything, not anymore,” Anti says, straightening but keeping his hands on Yandere’s shoulders. “All he knows now is me. All he cares about is me. If I told him to kill himself for me he’d do it. Wanna see?”

“No, no, no,” Dr. Iplier moans, sagging in his bonds, exhausted and shattered.

“Good.” One of Anti’s clawed fingers runs up Yandere’s neck, stroking over his jugular. “I’m not ready to give up this puppet yet.”

“What do you want with him?” Dr. Iplier asks, weeping. “What do you want from me?”

“Ohhh, what do you want from me??” Anti mocks, hair morphing into a natural dark brown and green eye glowing like a star. “Let me tell you, Doc.” His appearance changes back to normal as he looks down at Dr. Iplier. “I have a plan. And it all started with Yandere here.” He pauses. “Well, actually, it started with this.” He digs in the pocket of his jeans for something, and pulls out a small, skinny, cylindrical vial of purple liquid.

“What is that?” Dr. Iplier asks, mystified as to how this relates.

“This,” Anti says, holding the vial up to the light, “Is a potion that Marvin made. He doesn’t know I have it; I doubt he even knows it’s missing. He has this thing where he likes to make potions he has no intention of using to boost his skills, and then he hoards them all in case they end up being useful someday.” He shakes the vial lightly, and as it sloshes, red and blue peek through the ripples. “He changes their hiding place every week so I don’t find them, but I always do. I’ve been waiting for him to make me something useful, and he finally did.” Anti peers at Dr. Iplier, flashing another shark-toothed grin. “What do you think it does?”

“I…” Dr. Iplier starts, “How would I know?”

Anti lets out a barking laugh.

“Good point,” he admits. “This potion is designed to split beings up into their base essences.” He speaks slowly, thoughtfully. “It’d probably make a normal human explode. But if Marvin took it, he’d probably just lose his magic. If I took it, it might pull away my glitches. Oh, I know!” He snaps his fingers with his other hand. “It’s like Bim’s power, how he can pull things apart. But this is much more concentrated, much faster, much stronger. But it’s also one-use only. You’d have to take the whole vial for this to work. And I have a particular victim in mind.”

“Who?” Dr. Iplier asks, dread creeping down his back. A potion like that could cause untold damage to any of the egos.

Anti grins.

“Dark,” he says, like it’s a logical conclusion. “If Dark takes this, I bet it’ll split him apart from his aura, and then it’ll be mine for the taking.” His eyes glint as Dr. Iplier’s widen. “I’ll be the most powerful figment on the planet. I’ll be unstoppable. And you,” He points at Dr. Iplier. “Are going to help me make it happen.”

“What!? No way!!” Dr. Iplier cries. “Why me, anyway? And why take Yandere?? Why not do this yourself!?”

“Are you kidding?” Anti scoffs, “I’m not stupid. There’s no way I could sneak this potion into Dark myself. He’d catch me in an instant, and then it’d be game over. There’s no way I could puppet Wilford, either; if I could, I’d just do that instead of bother with all this.” He puts an arm around Yandere again as he continues. “Really, you were always the best candidate to enact this plan, Doc. No one would ever suspect you, and you’d have ample opportunity. I would’ve just puppeted you, but you’re too close to The Host.” He snarls in annoyance, grip tightening on Yandere’s shoulder. “For a blind guy, he sees fucking everything. So trying to get you directly was too risky. I needed a different way in. I needed leverage.” He looks at Yandere, still impassive and blank, and grins. “I needed Yandere. I knew that so long as I took care not to condition him with someone else in the room, I could make him a puppet right under everyone’s nose. I thought about just making him give Dark the potion, but he’s so fucking in love with him.” Anti grimaces in disgust and grabs Yandere’s face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks. “If he were just a human I could force him anyway, but he’s a figment, and his whole stupid existence is about being in love with Dark.” He releases Yandere’s cheeks to grab his hair instead. “I didn’t want to risk him shaking off my suggestion in the middle of it. So instead, he’s my leverage. After all…” He looks back to Dr. Iplier. “You’re still the best person to get this potion into Dark. All you need is a push.” He pulls Yandere’s hair, so hard that Yandere is lifted up to stand on his toes. He doesn’t even flinch, but Dr. Iplier does.

“So, what,” Dr. Iplier gasps, mind reeling, “You kidnap and threaten Yandere to make me do your bidding? Is that it?” He glares at Anti. “If you got Dark’s aura you’d kill us all. I can’t let that happen.”

“That’s just the thing, isn’t it?” Anti cackles, “You’re between a rock and a hard place. If you refuse my plan outright, well, I’ll probably just keep you here. See if I can make you a puppet without Host breathing down your neck. They might figure it out when I send you back, but I could always just possess you and pretend to be you.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Then I could get Dark, and keep Yandere for a while…but ugh, you might push me out. No, this is the best way.” He finally releases Yandere’s hair, and Dr. Iplier watches a few tufts float to the ground, pulled out by Anti’s forceful grip. Yandere falls back on his heels, almost stumbles, but rights himself back to his original posture. Anti cups Yandere’s chin, turns his face to look into his static-filled eyes. “I might just kill Yandere if you refuse.” He grabs Yandere’s waist with his other hand, pulls him so he’s flush against Anti, chest to chest.

“He’d…” Dr. Iplier forces himself to stay calm, keep down his revulsion. “He’d come back. And in the meantime, we’d find this place, Dark and Wilford will rip you apart, and Yandere will wake up safe at Ego Inc.”

“He might come back,” Anti agrees, hand on Yandere’s chin creeping around to the back of his neck. “He might not, though. And if he did, do you think you’d have enough time to find him? You don’t know where this place is. You can’t even be sure what country this is.” His hand on Yandere’s waist travels, pulling up Yandere’s shirt, nails digging into his back, leaving red lines as they go. “I wonder how many times I’ll have to kill him before it sticks. Probably not many; he’s not as popular as the others. But how will I do it? I could skin him like I threatened to do earlier. I could slit his throat, make us twins. I could strangle him. I could rip out his spine, or his lungs, or his heart. I could make him commit seppuku or eat poison. I could tie him up, release him from my control, and let him be fully aware while I torture him, make him beg me to kill him with his own free will.” Anti grins, leaning his head onto Yandere’s shoulder, into his neck, fangs against Yandere’s skin when he speaks again. “Maybe I could tear out his throat with my teeth, right here, right in front of you.” He breathes in through his nose, ruffling Yandere’s hair, and growls. “I bet his blood is so nice, so warm. I bet it tastes incredible.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Dr. Iplier moans, mindless in terror and grief as he watches Anti put his hands on his son, sickeningly intimate. “Don’t hurt him, please don’t hurt him.”

“Does that mean you’ll cooperate?” Anti asks, not pulling away.

Dr. Iplier whimpers, too in shock to sob. He knows helping Anti will lead to ruin. With Dark’s aura, Anti truly would be unstoppable. He’d be at least a match for Wilford, and he’d be able to mow down anyone else in his way. He could capture so many as puppets. The harm he could do is, truly, limitless. He might even go after humans, too, might try to take over anything. With Dark’s aura adding to his power, it might even be possible.

But…there’s still Yandere. There’s still his baby, there’s still his little one. Dr. Iplier could protect Yandere, he and the others could keep him safe, held away from Anti’s destruction. They can reinforce Ego Inc., rebuild the codes to keep Anti out, fight back, resist. They could find a way to destroy him. They could find a way to defeat him.

Dr. Iplier looks up, above Yandere’s head, to look at the timer there, the timer that everyone has, the timer that says how long someone has to live. He’s been avoiding looking at it this whole time, afraid of what he’ll see. But he needs to know. He can’t make a decision without seeing it. Yandere’s time is written in light blue numbers, which is promising; blue means the number can change, it can go lower but it can also go higher. The number is fluctuating up and down rapidly, no, not just fluctuating, glitching. The numbers scramble and fuzz up, rippling and crackling like a malfunctioning digital clock. Dr. Iplier’s jaw drops. He’s never seen someone’s time behave like this.

It’s stark, undeniable proof that Yandere’s life is completely in Anti’s hands. Whether he lives longer or dies sooner depends on Anti.

And what Anti does depends on Dr. Iplier.

Dr. Iplier cannot do it. He cannot kill his child, not even for the greater good.

He lets his head drop, ashamed.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” he asks Anti, quiet and broken.

He doesn’t see Anti’s grin, but he can imagine it, all pointy teeth and eyes that glint with triumph.

“Look at me,” Anti says, “And pay attention.”

Dr. Iplier lifts his head. Anti finally, finally lets go of Yandere, allowing him to return to his original position, staring emptily at Dr. Iplier.

“I’m going to send you back with the potion,” Anti begins. “You’re not to tell anyone about this conversation. You won’t tell anyone that you saw me, or saw Yandere, or anything else about what happened between us today. You won’t tell them to confront me again, or consider me as a suspect, or anything. If you do, consider our arrangement broken, because I’ll be murdering Yandere the second you let anything slip.” He smirks. “You can’t tell the Googles to revisit the coding keeping me out, either. That counts. You’ll carry that potion, keep quiet, and wait for a good time to use it on Dark. Inject him with it or make him drink it, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“It might take a while,” Dr. Iplier mumbles.

“I know that,” Anti says, “I’m prepared to wait as long as it takes. But when the opportunity comes, you better take it. If you hesitate or change your mind, I’ll kill Yandere. But first I’ll sneak back into Ego Inc., take the potion from you, and give it to Dark myself.”

“How do you expect me to hide from The Host?” Dr. Iplier asks, “You said yourself that he knows everything.”

“What did he say before?” Anti asks in return, “Something about not knowing the past?” He grins at Dr. Iplier’s expression. “Told ya, Doc, always watching. Anyway, if you play it cool, he won’t suspect a thing. Once you give Dark the potion, I’ll drop by to snag his aura and return Yandere.”

“Return him unharmed,” Dr. Iplier growls. Anti laughs.

“It’s a bit late for that,” he chuckles, stroking Yandere’s scratched cheek. “But he’ll be free from my control, alive, and in one piece. That much I can promise.” He appears a knife into his hand, approaches Dr. Iplier, and cuts one of his hands free before holding out his own. “Is that a deal?”

Dr. Iplier chews his lip. He doesn’t want to do this. But he doesn’t want to lose Yandere. At the very least, he can agree for now, and figure out a plan later.

“Fine,” he sighs, thoroughly exhausted. He shakes Anti’s hand.

“Excellent.” Anti takes the potion back out of his pocket and gives it to Dr. Iplier.

The vial of purple liquid is surprisingly warm. Dr. Iplier slips it into the pocket of his lab coat. It feels like a hot stone, weighing him down. Anti cuts him completely free, allowing Dr. Iplier to stand. He rubs his wrists, chafed from the rope.

“Alright then,” Anti says, preparing to glitch them back to the clinic.

“Wait!” Dr. Iplier exclaims. “Can I…” He swallows. “Can I say goodbye to Yandere first?” Anti rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t know you anymore, remember?” Anti asks, condescending. “And he’s not going to remember it once I pull the static out of his brain.”

“I know, I know, just, please,” Dr. Iplier begs, “Just for a minute. I’ve missed him so much.”

“Fine,” Anti sighs, like it’s a huge inconvenience. “Make it quick.” He steps out of the way, leaving nothing between Dr. Iplier and Yandere.

Nothing between Dr. Iplier and his boy, the person he’s spent two weeks missing, two weeks waiting for, two weeks fearing he’d never see again.

He rushes to him, hugs him tight, starts stroking his greasy, limp hair. Tears prick his eyes as he holds Yandere close, and Yandere doesn’t react. He doesn’t push away, he doesn’t hug back, he doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t relax with relief or flinch with fear. Still, it brings strength to Dr. Iplier’s heart to have his son in his arms again, even if for a moment, even if Yandere won’t remember or care.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing Yandere’s forehead, over and over. “I love you, I love you so much. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to make this right. I promise I’ll protect you no matter what.” He cups Yandere’s cheeks, mindful of the bruise on one cheek and the scratches on the other. “I’ll get you home again. Just hang in there, baby. It’ll be okay.”

He searches Yandere’s face for a reaction, for a twitch, for any indication of recognition or acknowledgement. There’s none. Yandere’s expression is blank, his eyes are still only static. Tears start to run down Dr. Iplier’s cheeks. He kisses Yandere’s forehead one last time before letting him go.

“I’m ready,” Dr. Iplier whispers through his tears.

“Quit crying,” Anti mutters, disgusted.

Dr. Iplier wipes his eyes with one arm as Anti grabs his other.

Then with a zap, they’re in cyberspace.

Dr. Iplier gasps, looking around himself to see code and binary surrounding him. Anti is electric beside him, zooming through the code, pulling Dr. Iplier with him. They hop from wifi network to hotspot, keeping up with the endless stream, until, suddenly, another zap sounds and Dr. Iplier is standing in his clinic again.

Anti is gone, but the potion remains in Dr. Iplier’s coat pocket.

He collapses into a nearby chair and sobs, and sobs, and sobs.

When The Host comes in that evening for blood transfusions and new bandages, Dr. Iplier is numb enough to act like nothing is amiss, and fixes Host like normal.

“Normal,” he thinks to himself as he helps Host, “Nothing will ever be normal again.”

#dr. iplier #yanderplier #antisepticeye #markiplier #jacksepticeye #markiplier fanfiction #jacksepticeye fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #kristin says stuff #unravel #o o f #i love this chapter but y'all might not >:3c

94 notes · View notes

ravenbrenna09 · 4 years

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Home - Sneak Peek #2

WOW, TWO SNEAK PEEKS OF THE SAME STORY TWO DAYS IN A ROW! unfortunately, the weekend is now over and I have to get back to focusing on school work and essays and papers and *shudders* so, here’s another sneak peek because I don’t know how long it will take me to get a full-length story out.

I hope you enjoy!

(and this one is actually a full scene)

...

As soon as the elevator stopped on the sixth floor, the elevator doors opening agonizingly slow, Robbe pushed himself up from his spot against the wall. As he stepped out, turned right and headed in the direction of Sander’s apartment, he clutched his skateboard and phone with one hand and thrust his free hand into his pocket, searching for his string of keys. He pulled them out, twisting them around until the key attached to the David Bowie key chain was within his fingers.

With a defined precision that had come with all of his visits, Robbe unlocked the door to Sander’s apartment and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. In the foyer, he spotted Sander’s Doc Martens which were haphazardly placed beside the small table which held a bowl for keys and the photo that Sander had posted on Instagram to announce their relationship. He tossed his keys into the bowl, kicked off his shoulder, placed his skateboard against the wall, shrugging off his jacket and placing it on the hook above the table with his beanie.

“Robbe?”

“Yeah, it’s just me,” Robbe called back, checking to make sure that he locked the door before stepping away. Even though Estelle was in jail and she was never going to get out, the lingering paranoia was something that Sander might never be able to heal.

Stepping away from the foyer, past the kitchen and the living room, he found Sander standing in the bedroom staring at his phone. His hair was getting long again, his dark roots showing drastically beneath the bleach stands, and it was only a matter of time before Robbe was going to walk into the apartment to find him and Zoë with dye in their hair, talking over a full glass of red wine or tequila. He was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans that curved to his body and a dark green hoodie pushed up to his elbows. Robbe’s dark green hoodie. Despite the fact that it swallowed Robbe’s form, it seemed to fit Sander perfectly.

Robbe stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Sander’s waist and holding him tightly. Sander glanced up from his phone, pivoting to find Robbe behind him and smiling at him, “There you are.” At the sight of Robbe, the artist made a dramatic move of tossing his phone on the bed and Robbe laughed loudly, but it was quickly swallowed by Sander’s kiss, as he pivoted in Robbe’s arms. The brunet grinned into the kiss, feeling Sander’s palms against his jaw, melting into his boyfriend’s kiss. “I missed you,” Sander spoke, pulling away.

Robbe smiled up at him, reaching up to wrap his arms around his neck. One of Sander’s hands dropped to his waist and the other buried itself in the curls at the nape of Robbe’s head. “I missed you too.” Sander grinned at him, his smile blinding and brilliant, and it made Robbe grin up at him a little bit harder before standing up to press their lips back together, briefly. “And, by the way, you look so much better in my hoodie than I do.”

“I’m sure I can argue with you about that,” Sander whispered, pressing their lips together one final time before he pulled back, his eyes half-closed as he stared down at Robbe, who settled back on his feet. “Are you hungry? I could order us some pizza and we can hang out for a bit. But, we’re going somewhere after.”

“Sure,” Robbe spoke, smiling and a little confused. Sander half-twisted out of his arms, clinging to him with one hand as he reached for his phone with the other. When Sander turned back to him, Robbe caught his eyes and questioned, “Where are we going? Do we have plans with your mom or Val and Soph?”

Sander shook his head. “No, Sophie has been having a lot of morning sickness so she’s pretty much wanted to stay inside for as long as possible. Val’s pretty worried about her, but the doctor says that it’s normal so he’s trying to remain calm.” Robbe nodded, making a mental note to check in with Sophie later. “And, Mom’s finishing up on her latest project. It’s just going to be the two of us. We’re going to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” he questioned, blinking it up at his boyfriend confused. “Our one-year anniversary isn’t for another few weeks.”

There was a bright, brilliant grin that encompassed Sander’s face, soothing away all of the bags beneath his bright green eyes and the wrinkles that had been worn onto his skin from the stress. The grin lit up his face and him in all the ways that Robbe loved to see over and over again. Sander’s artist hands soothed back the curls of his hair that were getting a little too long and tilted his head back so the blond could smirk down at him, winking as he spoke, “That, my dear Robin, is the surprise.”

With one final peck against his lips, Sander moved into the living room, dragging Robbe behind him as he dialed the number for the pizza parlor that they liked to have delivered.

#brenna writes #home: an unattainable epilogue #home fic #unattainable fic #safe fic #wtfock #wtfam #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #sobbe #rosander #sobbe fic #wtfock fic #rosander fic #home sneak peek

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dead-inside-mcgee · 5 years

Text

Controlling a marionette Part 4

@blog-griffin-me i will murder you with love

Summary: “I warned you not to test me.”

Warning: death, needles

The void was pure chaos. Not the kind that was out to attack and kill Chase, but the kind that throws him off and wants him to go insane or just give up on trying to escape.

Part of him just wanted to curl up and let Jameson and whatever else was in this hell, catch up with him. But he couldn’t, he had to warn his friends, he had to save them.

The button weighed heavily in his pocket as he trekked on. If Henrik could find a way out then so could he.

Something about this seemed too simple, I mean sure he was walking through in endless hallway that looked faintly like the one back home, but something about running from Jameson felt too easy. It may be his own paranoia but what if he was watching Chase right now, biding his time to attack.

He could barely see a door at the end of the hallway from where he stood. If this was just a darker version of home, that door would lead to the living room. He knew he couldn’t trust this place in the slightest but he made a dash for it anyway.

Like every nightmare Chase could remember that door kept getting farther away with each step. After a good bit of running he decided it was a fruitless effort and went instead for the doors lining the hall.

Usually there were signs on each door marking who it belonged to. In the darkness he couldn’t make anything out but he assumed it was Marvin’s.

The room itself was an endless void of darkness, with the faint outlines of a bed one a couch of some kind.

As soon as he set foot in, the floor sucked him in and the door slammed shut. This felt familiar.

Like before in the “dream” he was falling, but it didn’t feel like falling, more like sinking through some sticky, ink like substance.

The inky substance dropped him into another room. Some of it still stuck to his hair and face.

He was back in the first room again. No it wasn’t. It looked and felt like the first room but something was off.

It took him too long, but he noticed two things hanging on the wall. Puppets on strings, seemingly held up by nothing.

The first one was the same one Jameson showed him earlier, Anti. The second took him awhile to recognize. Doctor Jacksepticeye.

In a split second decision he snatched both of them and went back to searching. Slingling them both over his shoulder.

As soon as he took another step forward and felt something swoop past him and he felt eyes watching him.

Spinning around there was nothing there. Just the endless darkness, but the feeling persisted. He didn’t notice that one of the puppets was now missing.

***

Cold. That’s all he could think of at the moment. It was impossible to tell how long he’d been traveling but he could tell something had changed. Mainly the temperature.

His teeth clattered together. He still felt as though someone was watching him. He’d learned to ignore it. Though now he swore he could hear footsteps behind him.

Jameson was all he could think about. That and the cold.

He had to be planning something, he just had to.

As if on cue a robotic laugh echoed through the darkness, coming from in front of him.

It felt like some kind of movie. Jameson emerged from the darkness, a twisted grin on his face.

There were a lot of things Chase noticed. The most obvious was the fact that his right eye was replaced with a dark blue button. The button he had in his pocket seemed to simultaneously make more and less since.

The second thing he noticed was the footsteps behind him hadn’t stopped but seemed to be getting louder instead.

“You really thought you’d be able to get out of here?” Another laugh. “Like I would let you.”

“Do you control this place?” He asked, his eye darted around for any possible way to escape this. His best option was to stall.

“No, but I understand it.”

“If you understand this place then you know your way in and out. Right?”

“Of course I do. I also know when anyone leaves this place so even if you got out you still wouldn’t be free.” He had a smug look on his face.

“Then you could leave this place at any time?”

“Oh course!”

“Then why are you following me around and not going for the other egos? It seems like something's off.” He says with a skeptical tone. This could go two ways.

“You don’t believe me do you?” A frown grew on Jameson’s face.

“No, no. I believe you. I just feel like you’re not taking advantage of the powers you have. I mean why choose to show up now, when i’m not even causing you problems?” He put on a plastic grin.

His face scrunched up even more as he let out a low robotic growl. “You are causing me problems! You stole my puppet.”

“That was a while ago. You could’ve gotten them from me any time.” He reached back and held out one, just now noticing the other was missing. “You know what? You’re right i don’t believe you.”

“How foolish. You can not fathom my power!”

“Then prove it to me! Show me you’re not lying!” This was a very bad idea.

“I will show you power. I’ll wipe you out and all the other egos to! You will see!”

“You don’t even know how to get to the others.” He put on his best smug look, doing everything in his power to hide how much he was shaking.

Jameson hissed and stomped his foot. A hole appeared, seemingly twisting reality itself. If you can call the void reality. Through it Chase could see the front door to Septiceye Inc.

"Pe̸rhap̧s̷ you'd̨ lìke̶ to͜ ̨w͏atch͜ ͞your fr̛ie̶n̕d͟s ͝su̵ffe͠r ͢i͘n̛ ͜front͠ of ͟y͠ou?" His voice glitched.

Fuck. Now what?

“I still don’t think you have that much power. Sure your little magic trick is cool b-” He didn’t finish. Someone ran past him, they were fast but he recognized the clothing. “Wait! Jack?”

Dr. Septiceye tackled Jameson into the darkness surrounding them. The sounds of a fight echoed.

Without another thought Chase dashed through the hole and into the house.

Greyson jumped off the couch when he slammed into the living room.

“Chase? What happened to you?” He stepped towards him.

“Stay back!” He in no way trusted this place.

Greyson raised his hands in defense. “Are you alright!?”

“Stop talking! How do I even know you’re real?” Henrik appeared from the kitchen looking as confused as Greyson.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He said calmly and slowly. “Just breathe.”

Chase felt faint.

“I’m going to start moving forward, okay?” His hands still in the air he takes a step.

The father gripped the doorway, Anti still clutched in his hand.

Greyson was now an arms length away. Henrik stood over by the couch, a worried expression on his face.

“I am going to reach out and touch you now. I promise I will not hurt you okay?”

D̲̘ǫ͙͙͎n̤͙̰̟̼̱̟'͕̗̰̰͎͉̗t̨̪̰̠̖͇͙ ̹t̰r̪͚͕̰͙͍͕u̶s̲̩̯t ͉͇͍͡h̼im͈͇̪̦.͚̬̩͚̗ A voice seemed to whisper in his ear. Something about that made Chase want to trust him more.

He slowly reached out and placed his hand on Chase’s shoulder. He gave a small, reassuring grin.

“Grey?”

He nodded in response, his grin growing wider. “Yes. It’s me.”

Henrik appeared next to him. “Would you explain what happened?”

“I-well.” He looked behind him. “No time!”

“What's going on?”

He held out the puppet. Greyson grimmised.

“Why do you have this? And why does this exist?”

“Jameson made it! He made Anti.”

They glance at each other.

“You’re delusional Chase.” It was almost a hiss.

“Henrik!” Jackie sighed. “Chase you need to lay down. That’s a big claim to make and we can’t start fighting amongst ourselves.”

“You have to believe me! Jameson is the bad guy.”

“What are you talking about?” Jameson now stood behind him. Looking completely unscaved and normal.

“Nothing. Chase is just tired.” Greyson said.

“You motherfucker! What did you do to Dr. Jack?” He swiped at him, only to be held back.

“Oh dear.”

“Please calm down.” Greyson held on to him as tightly as he could without hurting him, lifting him slightly off the ground.

“You can fool them all you want but I know what you really are!” He kicked and fought.

“Should I go?”

“Yes that may be best.” Henrik said.

“No! Please you have to trust me. He’s the bad guy!” Anti slipped from his hand.

“I’m sorry about this, Chase.” Henrik said softly.

“Wha-” He felt a sharp pain in his arm and the world went black.

***

When he awoke it was eerily quiet. Which was very unusual.

When he stepped out into the hallway he was blasted with cold. The hallway was completely empty. The signs from each door were gone, all besides his own.

There was a familiar metallic smell coming from the living room. He went towards it. Why did he go towards it?

Inside they were there. The egos, his friends, on the floor. There wasn’t any blood, only that glassy look in each of their eyes.

Jameson stood in front of him, smiling.

“I warned you not to test me.”

Chase stared down in horror. “What did you do?”

“I just had a bit of fun. Too bad you weren’t there to join us.” Even with that text-to-speech voice he could hear the joy in his voice.

“Why? What did they ever do to you?”

“They pushed me aside. Through me out like I was nothing.” He kicked Henrik’s lifeless head.

“How could you!” Tears spilled from his eyes.

He just laughed. Anger boiled in his gut, he ran towards Jameson and jolted upright in bed.

He was in his pajamas, covered in six blankets. Robbie stood next to him looking relieved.

“Robbie? What- why are you here?” He asked, wiping the tears from his face.

“I tired. Went in, see Chay crying. Go to wake up.”

“Oh.” He sighs, thankful it was only a dream.

“Also want give, Chay drop early.” He held up Anti.

Chase grabbed it. “Thank you.” He moved to get out of bed only to be stopped.

“Red say Chay need stay in bed.”

“Red?”

“Red hood. No know name.”

“Oh Grey. I need to get up.” He attempted to get up only to fall down. He couldn’t move at all.

“That why. Doc give thing, Chay stay in bed.” Robbie lifted Chase up carefully and put him back in bed. “I sleep now.” He went back to his nest in the corner.

Chase groaned. He wanted to scream and yell but he didn’t want to bother Robbie. So he allowed himself to fall asleep again.

#my fic #jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #chase brody #jackie boyman #jameson jackson #marvin the magnificent #marvin the magician #robbie the zombie #Dr Schneeplestein #henrik von schneeplestein #dr. jack #dr. septiceye #controlling a marionette

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shirlleycoyle · 4 years

Text

Intel Docs Reveal Aftermath of Police Killing of Portland Shooter

The day after the killing of Michael Forest Reinoehl—an antifascist activist who appeared to admit to killing a militia member at a pro-Trump rally in Portland in September—one of the very police departments in Washington State involved with his killing issued an intelligence report to local police about the shooting. The report, in part, decries "ANTIFA" as a dangerous threat.

"Law enforcement agents in Washington State killed a suspect in Lacey on Thursday night in the shooting death of a right-wing activist (Patriot Prayer) in Portland, Ore., last week, the latest development in the protests and counter-demonstrations that have escalated tensions in the city and drawn the nation’s attention," reads a Pierce County police intelligence bulletin provided to officers in the region. (Pierce County Sheriff’s Department was one of the agencies involved in the shooting.)

"Mr. Reinoehl’s death is also playing out during a broader confrontation between opposing visions for the nation, as protesters demanding racial justice clash with right-wing activists on the streets in events that have become increasingly politicized ahead of the presidential election." The report is clear that local police should be on high alert at protests, and describes Washington and Oregon as hotbeds for terrorism. A portion of the bulletin that presumably gives more information about Reinoehl's killing is redacted; police cited an active investigation.

In the bulletin, Antifa, a largely disorganized group of antifascists, is listed alongside threats about ISIS and a white supremacist terror organization.

“The anarchist and ANTIFA connections go up and down the I-5 corridor from Seattle to Portland,” it reads. “Officers are encouraged to remain vigilant when assigned to public and gatherings, especially when counter-protest activity is present. Officers should attempt to identify indicators that a protest is deteriorating into rioting, looting, or a conflict between protest and counter-protest movements.”

The report, obtained by Motherboard using a freedom of information request, is marked as "LAW ENFORCEMENT USE ONLY," and was apparently intended to be kept away from the public and the media: "THIS DOCUMENT OR ANY SEGMENT THEREOF, MAY NOT BE RELEASED TO ANY MEDIA SOURCES," a disclaimer reads.

The document gives more insight into how police look at the current Black Lives Matter protests, and how even local police believe their role is to stamp out terrorism. The document itself is quite interesting, in that it contains a lot of information that might be useful to cops. It includes, for example, links to articles about cybersecurity best practices, explains that cops likely shouldn't be worried about terrorists who have been released from prison after serving their sentences, and has a link to a series of articles about organized crime. As far as law enforcement documents go, it appears to attempt to be fair: It explains that most recent protests have been peaceful and that at one specific protest, police should "anticipate … that none of the aggressive type actions or activity will occur during this event."

And yet, when it comes to Antifa, there are still highly unrealistic levels of paranoia ascribed to antifascist activism—a decentralized political movement, with no clear entity pulling the strings of activists across the world—by law enforcement which increasingly describes it in the same breath as prolific terror groups that regularly carry out attacks.

One section of the document explains that "though followers of Antifa frequently profess extreme beliefs and willfully engage in violence in furtherance of those beliefs, some security professionals argue that the depiction of Antifa as a terror organization is inaccurate. Without a clear and defined membership apparatus, identifiable leadership, and/or financing mechanisms, they contend that Antifa is not an organization; rather it is a loose network of individuals who commonly employ violence. Nevertheless, specific violent acts perpetrated by individuals to further political, social, or ideological objectives can satisfy some widely accepted definitions of terrorism."

Prepared in part with intelligence gleaned from the Department of Homeland Security and an FBI counterterrorism initiative, it describes the many Black Lives Matter protests in the region as “peaceful gatherings” but that some have “escalated into violence” with protesters smashing windows and damaging local businesses.

It’s at that point the report takes a major leap and links those protests with the killing of an anarchist in Tacoma last year who was armed with a rifle and throwing Molotov cocktails at an ICE detention facility, then subsequently gunned down.

“And not to forget when Willem Van Spronsen, an anarchist and anti-fascist from Washington who was fatally shot by police on July 13 [2019] while trying to set a fire with incendiary devices during an attack at an ICE detention center in Tacoma,” reads the bulletin. “Van Spronsen was armed with a rifle and threw ‘lit objects’ at buildings and vehicles in the parking lot of the Northwest Detention Center.”

Another warning found inside the bulletin describes an arrested antifascist activist in Green Bay, Wisconsin, who police say went by the moniker ‘Commander Red,’ as a “violent Antifa member who incites violence in otherwise relatively peaceful protests.”

The general tone of the bulletin gives a glimpse into how local police forces are fed hyperbolic information about antifascists, conflating a movement that is broadly understood by experts and the current FBI director to be a loosely organized group of people who oppose fascism with specific, organized far-right groups and centralized terror networks like al-Qaeda and ISIS.

But recent words from President Trump, who has vowed to designate “Antifa” a terrorist organization, and Attorney General William Barr, who is intent on prosecuting antifascist activists in droves, has increased the national perception the protests demanding racial equality across the U.S. are in fact a leftist insurrection.

Intel Docs Reveal Aftermath of Police Killing of Portland Shooter syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

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writerofblocks · 7 years

Text

Admist the Primal Things

so @iseektheholygrail sent me this last night as a birthday present and gave me permission to post it for y’all to see

(I’m still screaming over it tbh that’s why it took so long)

===

Neither of them speak much, the Doc or the Playa. They operate on a mutual understanding of grunts, noncommittal noises, and vague gestures. Entire conversations are built between them on glances and glares. Frustrating as it can be to the rest of the Saints, it works just fine for them. Mostly.

Brynden misses talking; be it long winded philosophical debate or quick small talk while waiting around. He’d go back to it if he could, but something held him back. Something held his tongue.

He trusts the Saints with his life. His voice, however, is his alone. The fake accent he tries to put on is paper thin. Better not to talk at all till he has someone he can trust. Maybe it’s paranoia. Maybe it’s just habit. Trust was hard to earn, especially after…

But the Playa. She was something else. Someone willing to do that hard work, regardless of whether she was aware of it or not.

An enigma. His mother would’ve said fondly. Trouble. His old friends might’ve whispered. All he could think was friend. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a part that still let hope glimmer through despair and the feelings of betrayal.

—

It isn’t the first time the Playa stumbles into his apartment in need of help, and it will be far from the last. She’s cursing up a storm, talking more than he’s ever heard before. From the gist of it, Bryn figures out she’s been shot. Somewhere on her thigh- she’s still limping, there’s still blood- there. Right there.

She trusted him to keep her gender on the down low. She trusted him enough to walk up three flights of stairs on an injured leg. She trusted him enough to lean on him as he helped her to the beat up sofa.

Fuck, he might as well trust her enough to give her a bit of comfort in what was going to be a shitty, shitty procedure.

“Bullet’s still in there. First time for you?”

There’s no hint of his standard shitty attempt at a Texas drawl in there, just a pure Irish type that the Playa can’t identify but is immediately comforted by anyways.

“Yeah.” She stammers out. “Yeah, Doc.”

“This’ll be a bitch.” Bryn states flatly, and he disappears into the kitchen to fetch his first aid kit.

She’s left in stunned silence, at least until a bolt of pain shoots through her thigh and she lets out another string of curses.

—

Bryn gets the bullet out of her no problem, but with the minimal anesthetic he currently has on hand, it is a bitch. He keeps muttering apologies and talking to himself. He needs stronger stuff. Should get in touch with some friends. Could ask Gat to steal it, just to keep him busy, but Gat won’t know what he needs. Plus all the equipment… Buying is easier, buying won’t draw attention-

“You got enough cash for the shit?” The Playa coughs out, taking a break from biting down on Brynden’s belt.

Bryn chuckles, not bothering to look up. “It’s not the getting that’s hard, luv. It’s the keeping. Can’t very well drag morphine and IV drips past a complex full of junkies and expect my flat to still be safe from them. Plus, no room to set up. And shots’ll need to be kept at the right temperature, equipment will need to have decent power- seeing as this shithole barely has the dignity to keep my laptop charged I doubt that’d work- and Lord, would the manager be pissed if I even tried to set up a private morgue so I could study the bodies that new Carnales shit started dropping- I mean, why? There’s no way that isn’t hurting their business, so that can’t have been deliberate, and-”

He rambles on like that the entire time he’s patching the Playa up. She can’t really bring herself to stop him. Every word he’s held back over the course of the past year comes pouring out in a graceless mess of concepts and theories and pure guesswork. The Playa keeps up best she can. Better than Gat or Dex or Troy would’ve.

It feels like half a million years before Brynden can finally put the finishing touches on his stitches and wrap up Playa’s thigh in a tight bandage. It’s only then that he lets her up to awkwardly fumble with her jeans. He did shock her when he’d abruptly yanked them down to her ankles so he could get to work. Doctorly instincts probably, who knew. At least he’d left her alone briefly so her attempt to pull her jeans back up could be done in peace.

She hisses the moment tight denim started clenching around the bandage. Bryn reappears in a heartbeat, a pair of black sweatpants in one hand and blanket in the other. “Here, don’t put those back on, I’ll get them washed- take these.”

The Playa pauses, glancing between Brynden’s waist and her own. “Those aren’t gonna fit.” She said flatly.

“They stretch. Ain’t mine. Picked ‘em up in case.” Bryn replies, still holding out the sweatpants. “If they don’t fit, just take the blanket. You’ll probably want one anyways.”

Bryn doesn’t leave room for argument. He’s immediately disappearing back down the hallway, doing something or other and all Playa can do is sigh and shake her head.

The sweats fit. The blanket feels nicer on her shoulders than her sweat-stained hoodie. She vaguely considers a shower, but dragging herself down the hall to the bathroom damn well feels like it’ll be the final nail in her coffin.

When she insists that Bryn can keep his bed, that she’s fine on the couch, that she doesn’t wanna walk anyways, Bryn scoops her up. He won’t hear her argument, now cut off by her shock that he’s carrying her like a princess to his room. To think she dreamed of things like this once.

Bryn’s bed is probably the most expensive thing in the apartment, and incredibly comfy for the Playa to lounge back on. Her protests die on her tongue in seconds. “Actually, you know what, fuck you. This bed is mine.”

Cracking a smile, Bryn heads for the door. “I’m gonna bring back some painkillers and water. Take two in the morning when you wake up, and yell if you need me during the night. Do you want a snack or some music or anything before I go?”

Goddamn. Being Bryn’s patient is like staying in a five-star hotel. Better, probably. Playa doesn’t have anything to compare to it.

—

That was hardly their first night of Doctor and Patient. It was far from their last.

The Carnales hit her with… Something. It can’t be one of the higher ups, not their style, but it has their brand of red all over it. Bryn picks her up at the address her shaky voice had choked out over the phone. By some miracle, she mostly naps in the car.

She wishes Bryn could have that chem lab he’d wanted so badly, cause then maybe he’d hook her up with an antidote instead of having to let her wait it out. On the plus side, he’s figured at least it won’t kill her. On the other hand, he’s got no idea how long it’ll take for her system to flush out the drugs.

At least he stays. Bryn dumps her in the bed again, and then sits down beside her and cracks open his copy of the Handmaid’s Tale. He doesn’t protest when Playa snuggles up beside him. He reads aloud when she quietly asks him to.

“We learned to lip-read, our heads flat on the beds, turned sideways, watching each other’s mouths. In this way we exchanged names from bed to bed:

Alma. Janine. Dolores. Moira. June.”

And he pauses, because she sucks in a breath of air and shifts so her head rests in his lap. “Bridget.” She says, quietly, barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t have to ask.

“Brynden.” He replies, just as soft.

Bridget cracks a smile. “Fuck kinda name is Brynden?”

“An old one.” Brynden murmurs. “Feel free to call me Bryn.”

She tries the name in her mind and then in her mouth, rolling off her tongue. “Bryn. Weird. Suits you.”

“Thanks.”

#fanfics #oc: bridget summers #saints row #guest oc: brynden stark #otp: brynget

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