#to anyone confused: i am actively ignoring every big bad and twist that came after the akatsuki cause it was badly thought out lmao

[neutralbrick]

redesigning this fool cause i liked him pre reveal lmao

[redrobin-detective]

The 101 Deaths of Danny Phantom

AO3 link

One of the first things people learned about dealing with ghosts, other than not to try and date them, is to never asks about their death or obsessions. That doesn’t mean the citizens of Amity Park aren’t curious though, especially about their resident ghostly hero and the confusing and concerning comments he sometimes makes.

“Are you okay?” Phantom asked Maisie as she shook and tried to hold back tears after that car had almost slammed into her. She sometimes joked about getting hit crossing the street of her college campus to pay her obnoxious loans but it was another thing entirely to almost experience it herself. Maisie was nearly twenty, she shouldn’t be comforted by someone younger than her little step sister but here she was, shaking like a lead and leaning into Phantom’s comforting, chilly touch. 

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “thank you, I’m sorry I’m just-”

“Hey, it’s okay to be upset that was very scary. The thought of dying is very scary.” Through her adrenaline and her tears, she took in the ghost’s unnatural glow, his faded, barely visible appearance and the fact that he was floating a foot off the ground. Maisie knows this ghost, this boy, knows more than she ever could about death. 

“And getting run over by a car sure is a bad way to go,” the ghost kid chuckled awkwardly, taking his cold hand off her shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. “You should see how my dad drives or my mom or my sister if she’s running late enough,” Phantom paused in thought. “No one in my family should have a license now that I think about it. Anyway,” he dismissed with a wave. 

“My sister and I were getting ready to head out to school and my dad was backing out of driveway too fast and didn’t see us and uh, luckily I got my sister out of the way in time haha,” Phantom trailed off awkwardly. Was it because of the uncomfortable conversation or because he noticed her dawning horror.

Her best friend ran the community college’s Phan club so Maisie was a member by default. Phantom’s death was sometimes talked about late at night, everything from wrongful murder to a freak accident. She never in her worst nightmares imagined being him being runover in front of his own house by parental ignorance. It was so normal, a quick mistake and a life lost.

“Oh my god,” he said with an adorable little green blush. “Why am I babbling about that? You almost got hit by a car, I’m probably retraumatizing you or something. I should probably go get the jerk who almost hit you,” he said before disappearing into thin air. 

“Tia is not going to believe this,” she whispered to no one. All she knew is that for the rest of her damned life she was going to look both ways when crossing the street. She’d seen first hand what a single moment of reckless driving could cause.

XxX

Matthew, not Matt or Matty or Hughie, Matthew shivered from the cold. He was only in his boxers with little Pacman on them. It had been fine when he’d gone to bed considering it was mid-August but Phantom and this stupid flaming mecha ghost had tussled outside the summer camp he was working at. He could see some of the kids snickering at his state of undress though he was just extremely glad they were alive enough to disrespect him like this.

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the ghost kid said with big, sad eyes that looked so human despite the fact that they were literally glowing. He looked around at all the snow and ice left over from his fight. “Jeez you guys must be freezing, I wish I could warm you all up but all I can do is make things colder.”

“S’okay,” Matthew said through his chattering teeth. “Teaching the kids how to start a fire was supposed to be next week but we can get a jump on it.” That got a smile out of the ghost and within a half hour, the other counselors were distributing blankets and hot beverages to the kids clustered around multiple fires. They didn’t seem particularly upset by the potentially fatal attack, Matthew will breakdown about that at a later time when he was alone. For now, he just smiled as the children chattered happily with the ghost while he cleaned up as much of the damage as possible.

“So you spend all day fighting ghosts?” Zoe asked with stars in her eyes.

“A lot of the nights too,” Phantom nodded, “I do other stuff but yeah it seems ghost fighting takes up most of my time.”

“Where’d you learn those cool powers?” Zuri asked, miming a punch.

“Comes with being a ghost,” Phantom shrugged, “my ice powers came in later though so I still struggle a bit with them but I’m getting better every day.”

“Why ice though?” Morris said with his cocked curiously to the side. “I see some ghosts use fire or shadows, why do you have ice?”

“Ah that’s a little personal,” Phantom chuckled but his posture was easy despite the invasive question. “Specialty powers like my ice require special circumstances and a certain uh connection to the ghost. Someone like me couldn’t use fire or electricity or plants, ice is in my soul, it’s who I am.”

Matthew paused in drinking his lukewarm coffee as a horrible thought came to mind. He’s been an outdoorsman all his life, practically from the time he could walk. He’d been a deep woods camping guide for a decade before switching to working at summer camps. But the years working in the relative comfort of a stable camp didn’t erase his knowledge of how unforgiving and deadly the woods in the winter could be. A grown man, much less a young teen, would freeze to death in 20 minutes if it was cold enough. 

It made sense for ghosts to develop powers related to their deaths. Had Phantom been one of the dozens of unfortunate kids he read about every year who ran away in the middle of winter only to found later as a frozen corpse. He eyed the boy’s snow white hair and frigid aura he exuded with mournful trepidation. God, what a horrible way to die. 

“I’d get chilly with ice powers,” Tabby said with a shudder, she held out her cup of cocoa. “You want some of my cocoa to warm you up?”

“No thanks,” Phantom said with a soft smile that was warm despite everything. “The cold hasn’t bothered me for a while.”

XxX

Ghost attacks may be the norm but, if there was one good thing that came out of whole mess it was the fact that violent human crimes went down drastically. So when the rare murder did happen, the shock and fear rippled through the whole town. 

Stanford Newton had only been sheriff of Amity Park for eight months after the last guy had gone gray overnight and moved to Florida the next day. It was a daunting position but one he bore proudly. This wouldn’t be his first murder investigation having initially cut his teeth as a beat cop in Chicago but it would be the first in Amity. And it certainly was the first in which the dead served in an active capacity.

“Amanda Chastain, 27. Officially she was a waitress down at Spengler’s Diner but she’s been picked up for prostitution twice in the last year,” Stan said calmly, ignoring the cold, angry presence over his shoulder. “History of polysubstance abuse as well, not that either of those things mean she deserved this.” Used, beaten to death and then dumped in the trash like yesterday’s paper. 

He wondered if she’d come back a ghost or if she���d finally get some peace this world hadn’t offered her. “We don’t have many leads right now, I’m afraid. Acting illegally as they are, there’s not a lot of resources these poor girls have to turn to.”

“I’ll find them,” The Phantom said with blazing conviction, his voice thick and sharp as ice. “I’ll find and bring them to justice and make sure no one else is hurt again.”

“I believe you,” Stan nodded, shutting his notebook as he finally turned to face the teenage superhero haunting his town. He can’t say he liked what he saw. The Phantom looked even less human than usual, his aura flaring and flickering like the foggy mist before a heavy snowstorm. His unnatural green eyes glowered, painting his too young face in a terrifying light. 

The kid looked furious, clearly taking this death to heart. He’d read the Fenton’s memos about obsessions and such but this seemed beyond that. “But don’t hurt anyone to do it, or yourself while you’re at it.”

“I won’t, I’ll make sure they’ll face human justice and don’t worry,” Phantom gave a snarling smile. “No mortal can hurt me, not like this,” he growled causing the hairs on Stan’s arms and neck to stand on end. He flew off after that, presumably to track down Amanda’s killer.

“Not like this,” Stan mumbled to him, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow where a cold sweat had broken out. “Jesus Christ that poor kid.” Stan had seen plenty of murdered and mutilated bodies in his lifetime, some of them even kids. He just never got to talk to them after they’d had their life forcibly snatched away. It would explain the ghost’s near fanatical determination to save others, why he took a stranger’s murder so personally. 

“I hope your own murderer is behind bars,” Stan said as he tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Or even six feet under, for killing a good kid like you.” Stan made his way back to his squad car so he could head back to the station and move forward with the official investigation. But he’d eat his hat if there wasn’t a stammering lowlife there by tomorrow ready to turn themselves in.

 Maybe after all this was settled down, he’d delve into some of the cold cases stacked in the cellar. Maybe in there he’ll find a picture of a smiling, carefree teen who’d disappeared and returned with the power now to ensure no one else suffered as he had.

XxX

“Yes, I know about the Phantom,” Luis Oliveira will say to anyone who so much as brings up the ghost kid. Locals know better by now but the tourists eat it up every time. He twists his finely combed mustache and gestures to the floor where his audience is standing. “He died right there oh ten or eleven years ago.”

Luis has worked his way all across the the United States since he emigrated from Brazil in the 70s. He finally settled in Amity Park about twelve years ago. He’d never intended to stay in the small Midwest town but the fatal shooting of a young customer kept his little corner market open.

“He was a nice kid, always said hi to me and paid in exact change. Was big fan of the snacks I made, would stop by after school and take half my inventory. He had big brown eyes and a crooked nose,” Luis would smile at the memory before closing his eyes and frowning sadly. “One day, he came late. His teacher made him stay after to go over a failed test, I remember he complained. He was pulling out his money when robber burst in, demanding my money. I fumbled for the register key, dropped it. I bent down to grab it and I hear shots going off. Two over my head, another right into the boy’s throat.”

Luis will hear the sound of that sweet boy’s guttural choking sounds as he drowned in his own blood until the day he himself died. The robber left after the shot, Luis called the police and held the young man’s hand as he died. The would be thief were never found and Luis never did learn anything about the boy who’d died on his floor for getting hungry after school.

“As soon as I saw Phantom on the TV,” Luis would say, perking up after his moment of somber grief, “I knew it was that boy come back. Those kind eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere. He’s never come here but one day he will and I will be able to pass on my regret on not being able to save his life that day.”

XxX

“I think he killed himself,” Mikey whispered to Lester during lunch period, angling his voice low. “The jocks may love Phantom for his powers but I just know he was one of us, an unwanted nerd. I’ve seen him chatting up a ghost I’m pretty sure is Poindexter, Casper’s suicide kid. They’re probably bonding over their similar deaths and the circumstances that led to it.”

“That’s pretty dark,” Lester whispered back. “I also get unpopular vibes from him but I don’t think he’s the time do uh do that to himself; he’s too stubborn and protective. But I bet he was the victim of a prank gone wrong. Dash locked Fenton in the Janitor’s closet last Wednesday, he got out okay somehow but maybe something like that happened to Phantom. He always looks kind of annoyed at the A-listers, maybe they remind him of old bullies.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clara said, pushing up her glasses with her middle finger. “The ghost kid totally got electrocuted or something. He was fighting that weather ghost and he sent lightning bolts his way and Phantom flinched. He fought the Ghost King and yet a little electricity scares him? It might not’ve even been a lightning strike but something manmade like a machine backfiring or something.”

“Get real,” Mikey scoffed, sipping his milk with an eyeroll. “I’m sure we’d have heard about some poor kid getting zapped to death; this town isn’t that big.”

“We’d have heard about a suicide too,” Lester noted with a wry grin.

“Shut up Mr. I base my theories around Fenton who’s a known weirdo”.

XxX

“I’m telling you, the ghost kid died of some debilitating illness,” Abbie McMillian, retired school teacher and three year reigning champ at the Tristate area’s Daylily Competition. She sipped her tea and spoke with as much confidence as she had back in the day wrangling Amity’s impressionable youths. “The superhero thing is clear wish childhood fulfillment, a chance to live and be free like he never got to in life. You see how happy and carefree that young man looks while flying? Clearly he spent his formative years sick and weak.”

“No way,” Greta von Martin frowned as she aggressively stirred her own tea to show her displeasure. “I worked in a hospital for close to 30 years and I know what chronically sick kids look like and Phantom doesn’t fit the bill. I will agree he’s carefree when he’s not battling spooks but he acts like a stupid teen. I’m telling you, the boy got into his parent’s liquor cabinet or took a few too many of whatever pill was going around his school. Tragic but something that happens every day.”

“Greta, dearie,” Abbie said with a pinched frown. “We’ve been friends since grade school and I love you like a sister but you are wrong and until you admit it, I won’t share anymore of my recipes.”

“You’re just being stubborn because you can’t see what’s right in front of you even after working with kids half of your life, Abbie, love,” Greta sniffed. “And you can kiss my grandson’s help weeding you garden goodbye until you relent.”

XxX

Perhaps one of the most human traits is curiosity, especially about what comes after death. Now the good people of Amity Park know a great deal about the dead so the lives before is what attracts their attention and none so more than the ghost boy. Maybe it’s because he’s their hero or maybe it’s because he’s so young. Or perhaps it’s because Phantom is such a mess of contradictions that it’s very hard to guess how the unfortunate boy met his end. But everyone has their own theories, from the mundane to the fantastic, some with evidence backing them up and others pure poppycock. 

But for all their curiosity, as much as it burns them to know, they’ll never ask. They don’t want to risk the powerful ghost’s wrath but, moreover, it seemed in poor taste. The boy risked his afterlife to keep them safe, they couldn’t ask what traumatic and miserable circumstances had led to this point.

And besides, it was so much more fun to look up at ghostly figure as he sped through the skies and wonder.

[starofroselight]

Title: He Calls You Theseus (Now Call Him Odysseus and Welcome Him Home)

Chapter 1: In Which Technoblade's Narrative Crumbles    

Summary: Technoblade's language is the art of combat and weaponry. Tommy doesn't understand, so Technoblade speaks in a way they'll both understand. Or, Technoblade’s been having strange visions while taking care of Tommy.

Tags: Technoblade, TommyInnit, SBI fic, Introspection, Flashbacks, Found Family, Brothers, Trauma, Alternate Universe, References to Greek Myth, Sleepy Bois Inc. as Family, Sleepy Bois Inc. Angst, Chat as Ghosts, Rose AU

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28786947

Author’s Note: This is my baby. I’ve worked for this on a while, and it’s about 5.1k words. I hope you enjoy the first chapter, I plan for around five in all.

A flurry of snow buffeted the snow banks around Technoblade's retirement home. 

Technoblade had decided teaching Tommy the art of arrow fletching was important. He had come to immediately regret that decision. Tommy’s loud mouth and shaky hands were something manageable in the best of times, but when the time came for work to be done they became hindrances. Liabilities.

Technoblade didn’t take in liabilities. 

“How’s this, big man?” The tooth-gaped teen asked smugly, holding up a shoddily constructed arrow as if it were made of gold.

Technoblade briefly considered how much easier this would have had he cleaved Tommy��s head clean off in the hole under his house.

> You can’t!

> The most efficient way to grind out arrows is village trading. Make one of your downstairs hostages a fletcher, trade sticks, build rapport, then trade in for arrows.

> Tommy pog

> would’ve been funnier if you did

“Chat, do you see what I’m dealing with?” He mumbled to himself. 

“Oi Chat! Hey Chat, do you think Technoblade is a big bitch?”

“Tommy, you’re giving me a headache.” That wasn’t all that was giving him a headache: voices, the thousands of voices which were riled up by his every interaction with another living soul. Each voice was vying for a spot to influence his words, to have any effect on the outside world like they once were able to.

And the voices really liked Tommy.

“All I want’s an answer.”

He wouldn’t get one.

"How am I better at this with hooves?! Here, let me show you one more time.” Techno squatted beside where Tommy was sitting on the stone brick floor. “Two ties on each side over the flint. Three sharp cuts into the wood. Feather goes in between. Look, perfectly functional arrows! What part of this aren’t you getting? It’s not that difficult!”

Tommy picked up the tools from the fletching table. He took one look at the sticks, then picked up a fistful of feathers.

“Right—”

“Okay, that’s enough, I’m not going to let you keep massacring my feathers like this. What even is this?" He picked up a feather from the floor. It hung limp between the heel of his hoof, frayed and torn. "These chickens died for nothing!"

“What am I supposed to do while you do all the work if I can’t help?” Tommy was pouting, his face so full of vibracity and energy it looked as if he was choking.

That was it. Techno's face twitched. 

“Maybe if you sit down and stay quiet for a minute, I can come up with an idea!”

Surprisingly, Tommy did. His face flushed red with embarrassment. 

And Technoblade realized he had screamed at a scared, struggling sixteen year old child covered in scars. 

> do you feel powerful now

> OOOOOOO

> You should kill him

> Betray Tommy!

> betray tommy

He dragged a hoof over his face. The gesture was easier with hands.

"Look. . . Tommy. You're clearly not good at fletching arrows. Why don't you go lay down in your racoon hole?"

Technoblade’s plan had been, surprisingly, one of altruism. He wanted to teach Tommy how to make arrows so he could value the ammunition. He had a tendency to complain about. . . well, everything, but specifically running out of supplies. Techno hoped this would teach him how valuable they were. Not in resources, but as assets. In the heat of battle, every shot mattered.

After Tommy had made a quiverful of arrows, Technoblade planned on taking him out to his practice range. Inexperienced hands nocking an arrow were shaking and quick to flinch. Archery hurt. It was a difficult skill to master; the art of shooting an arrow required the fletching to run through the archer’s fingers. If their hands were smooth and uncalloused, the projectile would cut through their fingers like a blade in water. His hands (and hooves) were roughed up to the consistency of leather from arduous repetition. Tommy hadn’t had that experience.

Technoblade had made leather gloves for that exact reason.

And now that plan was ruined.

While his retirement home was the definition of picturesque, Tommy had come to ruin that as well. The foundation had made Techno's house uneven. The ground was unstable and it had started to sag north. 

Tommy had literally dug up and unsettled his life. 

Somewhere in there was a metaphor and a moment for some much-needed introspection. Technoblade ignored it. 

Snow had sloped onto the roof heavy, the sound of monsters outside crunching feet of the stuff. The cold had choked out the will of any invaders at the cost of isolating them together. The house’s floor was insulated with stone, then covered with wood. The chimney doubled as a source of light, warmth, and a way to heat the floor. Technoblade had learned how to make heated floors from Chat. The quality of life improvement was immense.

Tommy hadn’t understood how, but he did enjoy it. Too often he had slept in his boots, curled up into a jacket or blanket or whatever he could find. But this? This was a luxury that could lull him into a rest like no other.

And Tommy needed a good sleep after Logsteadshire.

Still, his spirit reignited despite his body's protests. He stretched his arms upward in attempts to hide his yawn. 

He stomped his foot. 

"I'm not tired! We need supplies, we need—We need to get back the discs."

That was going to be a hard habit to kick. The kid needed a break; his eyes were ringed in black. He sat hunched over with awful posture, looking pitiful. Technoblade held back the urge to call him a racoon again.

Despite the warmth, Tommy was shivering.

Exhaustion. Techno knew it all too well.

The Piglin man took off his cape, folding it over his arm. It helped increase his bulk, his size when intimidation was necessary. When he was home its purpose became a blatant unnecessity. Still, he often found himself falling asleep in it, curled up in a tiny pile against the wall where no one could hurt him. 

It was important.

And he tossed it to Tommy. 

"We'll get back the discs after you go to sleep. If you fall asleep in the snow you'll freeze to death and die."

Then he stoked the fire with an iron pole, minding Edward's head. He couldn't be bothered to kill the creature just yet. The flames roared up, consuming the cold air in the room and up the chimney. 

Tommy held the crimson cloak in his arms. He stared for a second, then twisted to wrap it around himself. It was enormous, swamping his thin figure in fabric and comfort unknown for weeks in exile. He pushed himself further into the corner with the fletching table, close to his hiding box.

"The 'and die' is kind of redundant, 'innit?" Tommy muttered, head poking up from the fluff of the cloak’s collar.

Technoblade sighed. 

They were going to keep talking in circles. He would make a general statement, Tommy would overload him with non sequiturs and nonsense sentences until Technoblade tuned him out with Chat. However, he couldn’t ignore Tommy here. If he did, the boy would never go to sleep, and the cold of the night didn’t need a cold shoulder on top of it. A cranky Tommy and an annoyed Technoblade was a recipe for disaster, overthrowing governments or otherwise.

There was only one way he knew how to talk in times like this:

“Let me tell you a story.”

It was an offer more intimate than Tommy knew. 

Naturally, he rejected it.

“What if I don’t want to hear a story?” Said teenager shifted in his cozy corner. 

“Too bad.” He pushed the crown up from where it was slipping off his head. If he was going to coax the world's most energetic child to sleep, he needed to let down his guard. 

“Why do you even wear that thing?”

“What, the crown? It’s not like I use it in combat or anything, it's just for fun. Fun is banned? You're banning fun now?" He laughed. "Good luck getting anyone on your side."

“I don’t have a side. Or rather, my side is your side? Now you’ve gone and got my head all confused.” Tommy’s voice had grown softer. 

Techno couldn’t have that.

“There’s no ‘our side’. We are not a team.”

Tommy huffed. “Until we get the discs back.”

“Will you let go of the discs for a minute? They’re not going anywhere.”

“Could go into a fire.”

Techno huffed heavier. Puffs of true flame curled out from his snout. Not the metaphorical risk clouding Tommy’s mind. He was already headed towards the pitfall he wanted to avoid. It was time to change the subject.

“Considering your limited knowledge of Greek classics, you wouldn’t happen to know Homer?”

“Who what now?” 

A solid ‘no’ would have sufficed, Techno thought.

“You probably haven’t heard of Odysseus, then.”

“With a name like that, I reckon I should of. Wait, this is one of your myths again, isn’t it?” Tommy kicked himself up, back against the wall to look at Technoblade as they spoke.

“I like a certain section of stories. Is that so wrong?”

“Is this story about you?”

The Blade tutted. “No, no, no. I don’t have any family. Orphans killed my parents. Family is useless, it slows you down unless you’re exacting revenge. In that case, family is excellent. Nothing better than dead family.”

"That doesn't make any sen—"

"Keep interrupting and I'll make you sleep in Carl's stable."

Tommy pouted. His hair stuck up in every which way, active as he was.

“Odysseus was a king of his own island. He lived in peace with his family on Ithaca, and he was known as a wise man.” It had been a while since Technoblade had told a story like this. His rhythm was lacking. “He was the favorite of Athena, the goddess of battle and wisdom.”

“Gods aren’t real.”

“You’re looking at one.”

Silence. “Yeah, right.” 

"Moving on.” He wasn’t willing to indulge Tommy in that story when he was preoccupied with telling another. “While Odysseus was a king, he wasn’t the chief king. At that point Greece was broken up into various city states, other little countries that refused to be conquered. While it was all Greece, there was a difference between a Spartan and an Athenian. Too many fights for power and the geopolitical landscape had torn them apart. Odysseus had his friends, though it would be more accurate to call them his allies, his country with whom he had sworn an oath to fight alongside. Each of those kings would be headed out their own separate way.” That felt right to Technoblade. “They were brothers in arms, finally called to war for the sake of their nation. But Odysseus ended up alone.”

“Why?”

“The people around him broke the rules. They went up against the sun god, and so they were punished.”

“What’d they do?”

“Oh, uh. Ate his cows.”

Tommy gasped.

“No!”

“Okay, so you get it. The Pet Skirmishes but on a much, much bigger scale.”

“Where’s Sapnap?”

“Tommy, it’s a myth, it’s not about your friends. They’re gods.” 

“Dunno why you’d tell a story about a bunch of boring, stuffy gods. Hey, why’re you such a bad storyteller?”

That was it. "I'm trying to monologue here! Chat, Chat see how impossible this is?"

“Tell chat that you’re a pussy! And I’m the coolest! TommyInnit is the coolest, got it?” Tommy’s eyes, which had held the murmurs of sleep, were now alive and vicious.

Undoing all of Technoblade’s work. And proving he didn’t understand Chat.

“Bruh.”

“I am!”

“For the third time now, if you will let me talk, I’m trying to tell the story.” 

“Right, right, sorry.”

“Odysseus was the only one who knew the warning signs. He had encountered the gods before, and he would rather starve to death than offend them. Because sometimes, Tommy, not offending people is a good thing, and making needless enemies makes the situation ten times worse.”

Tommy bit his lip. 

Techno continued.

“But no one ever listens to Odysseus. That’s one of the ironies of the story, Tommy. Often being right lets the hero escape with his life. Doesn’t mean he can save anyone else. Most of the time he doesn’t even save himself.”

“What?”

“I mean, I tried telling you. Heroes are doomed the moment they call themselves heroes. Odysseus never did, he was smart. It was the people that came later and told the story that did that. A hero is born through the crossing of the stars, something divine. Special. For all of his worth, the burden of expectation is put on his shoulders and then he battles with his pride. The Greeks had a word: hubris. It’s the hubris that strikes the killing blow. It’s never the beast or the gods themselves, it’s someone the hero has wronged. Odysseus wronged a monster, a cyclops, but even that was too far.”

Tommy was quiet. All of his focus was pooled into Technoblade.

“Odysseus played the part of warrior. Now it was time for him to be a survivor. See, it didn’t matter what the gods put him through, the trials or the tribulations or the meaningless delays. He had a mental image of what his home was. Ithaca. It had stopped being a real place. Instead it was an idea. A concept.”

“Oh.”

“And even when he was gone, trapped by witches and beasts, he kept that vision of home in his head. Because he was going to get there no matter what. It was all he had left of the world he knew. Even when he was offered another life, another world in what might have been a better place, he turned it down. Because it wasn’t what he wanted. He learned what being a hero meant, and now what he wanted was the opposite: to go home. To be normal. But the thing is, life doesn’t wait around for us to come back.”

Tommy glanced down to his neck. The lodestone compass shimmered in the dim light. His Tubbo.

“The world doesn’t care what your aspirations are, your nation, or your ideas. It doesn’t even care about your friends. The world doesn’t care if what you want does not want you. It doesn’t care, period. It’s cold. Survival is survival.”

-

"I want to be a hero when I grow up!"

"Oh, you do?" The man chuckled, furloughing his spade to sit down on the steps beside him. 

"What's the point of having a name like Technoblade if you're not a hero?" He shut the book in his lap, face beaming.

The young man's mouth opened before a scream rang out from inside the house, followed by shouting and yelling. 

The blond haired man sighed. He smiled back, then rolled his eyes. The man reached out and tousled his hair.

Techno laughed as the man’s voice echoed:

"How are ÿ̸̻͓́̑͐́͗̽͝͠ö̶̝͖̱̫̈́̑́͌͒̋ǜ̴͍͖̝̑̋ ̴̢̛̛̮̼̲͖̠̻̼̝̥̗̻̩̲̼̂̽͌̾̇͂̈́̾͐̅͘̚t̷̤͔̥̤̫̫̟̀̐̈́̿͐ḧ̴̡̘̦͔̠͎̰̬̼̜̺̮͎͚͛̈́ͅȩ̵̦̦̠̬̼͔̰̩̯̻̍̈́͐̌̓͆̀̉̑͗ ̸̪̤̣̏͒̚͜ͅm̸̗͇̘̮̥̮̪̤̯̤̞͉͗̾́͜ą̸̡̖̭̣̭͉͎̥̫̝̑̿̅̄̓͐̽̊̂͂̆͠͝ͅţ̶̮͚̰̂̀̈́̐͆͑̍͆͗͝͠ü̶̢̻͔̼͓̹͖̺̯͙̅̂̔̊̐̅ͅr̴͔̐̾͛ẽ̴̱̰̣̀̓̉̀̆̓̈̄ ̸̛̱͇̺̂̿͑̏̍̋͊͊͗̋̇̆͝o̴̬̙͚͇̳͎͆̇̌̐̿͂̓̄͛͝ͅn̵̨̈́̈́̂̋̐ͅe̷̛̟̱͖͙͙̩͆̊̆̓̂͒̈̍?̸͖̟̺͇̬̗̰̭̺͇͆͐̀͊́̄̍̀̅́͜

-

> home. 

> Tommy's still looking at you, you haven't spoken in a minute

> do you feel sick?? whats going on i just got here

“Blade?” And there was Tommy, with a drop of concern in his voice.

Technoblade shook his head. Late joiners. The memory crumbled to dust. 

He continued. “The Isle of Ogygia. That was where Odysseus’s survival took him. He stayed there, in the lull of the witch Circe, who wanted him for herself—”

“That’s sexist.”

“W-What?”

“The witch!”

“You think the witch is sexist?”

“No no no, the hero! He gets called upon—lured—by this woman just because he’s what, the hero?”

He could not believe this. “Tommy. I didn’t write it.” 

“I’m just saying!”

“The Isle of Ogygia. Or Atlantis, some people think it could be Atlantis, it honestly depends on what version you’re reading but that’s not important. Odysseus spent countless years there, safe but soulless. His heart was gone from his body, kept at bay with thoughts of home. Of family, of kinship. He was out of his body and mind for seven years. He was at the gods’ mercy, but fortune smiled upon him and he escaped.”

Techno took a moment to return his attention to his listener.

Tommy was transfixed, eyes wide.

For some reason, that made him smile.

“He made his way to one of his allied kingdoms. The gods, though, had shifted his appearance. This was to know how he still stood in their eyes. When so much time passes, relationships and bonds fade. Only his dog recognized him. The home he’d wanted for so long was plundered, practically destroyed. His wife—”

“He had a wife? That’s unrealistic.”

Technoblade repeated, annoyed: “His wife and his son didn’t recognize him. Only the dog.”

Tommy continued to ignore his point.

“Well dogs are good like that. I reckon dogs are better than most people."

Moving for the first time since the beginning of the story, he took a step towards the corner.

“Tommy, I’m trying to tell you that even though he won—He got everything he wanted, he got to go home—He didn’t win. His home was different. And he wasn’t the same man.”

“That’s—That’s sad.” 

Tommy stood up and Technoblade crossed his arms.

“It’s not a happy story.” 

"Then why are you telling it?"

“Forget about it.” If Tommy didn't understand, he wasn't going to waste any more time explaining. 

Tommy moved, shifting the cloak on his shoulders crooked. He opened the spruce doors, a strange expression on his face. Like a mixture of horror, fear, and anger. Technoblade recognized the anger first. Tommy looked back, stepped into the snow, then shut the door.

Techno thought, what? He’s going to throw a tantrum because a story doesn’t go how he wanted—

-

A white substance flitted down through the air like snow. Small, unburnt hands grasped upwards to try and catch it. They had only seen snow, never this new, fluffy, off-white plume.

The boy coughed up ash. 

“Hello? D̸̫̦̳̰͐̉ã̸̲̦̞̺͆d̶̗̒̐̕̕?”

-

Technoblade grabbed the edge of the box, stumbling. 

The memory—No, vision—was incompatible with reality. How would he have gotten to the Nether as a child? And Techno never had a father, never depended on anyone, never needed—

Before he could even begin to understand the implications, he was thrown back in.

-

He was lost. 

He was alone. 

And he couldn’t have known that enough inhaled ash will scar your lungs, burn your skin, and bury you beneath a mountain of suffocating fire the moment you stop moving. He couldn’t have known that the Nether contains biomes of this stuff.

Ash has suffocated him. It burns, searing his skin and cooking him alive. It’s like the fall of Pompeii. He read a book on Pompeii once. Perhaps in some distant time an archaeologist will discover the hollow shell of his remains and theorize what happened here, or a traveler, a survivalist happening along the same paths years later when he’s just a mound.

He read another book, once. About a volcano. It’s similar to that pyroclastic flow, a mix of awful molten core and heat. There’s no way to swim in lava, not truly. It doesn’t stop a thirteen year old boy from scraping for the surface in a pit.

He was going to die here.

It’s his coat that saves him. Handcrafted and made with love. The bottom half tears, and he loses a precious gift but gets to keep his life. 

Everything is burning. Is he screaming? His clothes are torn and he’s burning, he’s burning—

-

As quickly as it had come, it was gone.

Technoblade was instantly brought to the sensation of cracklings coals. He jumped at the sound, then looked down at his hands.

Hooves, right. Hooves.

This was too much to process.

Techno looked up.

He watched Tommy waddle to the front of the house in front of Carl’s stable, trudging through the snow the most inefficient way Technoblade could imagine. He was wiping his face.

For some reason, he thought it was something his good friend Philza would have a laugh at.

> PHILZA!!!

> Philza Minecraft?

> Philza would love it here

> The child is annoying, I hope he freezes to death

> I miss Philza

> Countdown to Philza visiting!

“Chat, you’re screaming into my ear right now.” He needed clarity, not a thousand voices in unison chanting for a friend.

Even from here, he could see that tears were pooling in Tommy’s eyes.

Technoblade didn’t bother with a coat. He ignored the sounds of the fire and how the heat made him feel uneasy, instead opting to climb down the ladder and go out the front door. Tommy was muttering to himself, a hand petting Carl.

“‘s not a happy story—What’s the point of telling a story if it’s not happy? I reckon he’s just one big downer. Downing all the time.”

It was then Techno decided to speak. 

“I’d say talking to yourself is a bad habit but since I can’t really do that without coming off like a hypocrite, I’ll tell you that being quieter usually means people can’t overhear sensitive, secret information.”

Tommy didn’t jump, but his shoulders hitched.

“I don’t care about secrets.” Tommy crossed his arms.

“Everything’s a secret when you can’t understand basic information people are telling you.”

“You don’t tell me anything!”

“I’m trying to tell you why people tell sad stories.”

“If I were his family, I would have recognized him.”

“No you wouldn’t have! That is literally the point of the story. You’re like five now, you think you’d recognize someone you saw as a baby?”

It happens a third time and Technoblade’s world spins.

> Recognize recognize recognize

> Is he finally remembering????

> idk, not yet?

> Ugh, someone get me when something interesting happens

> your dead, whats stopping you from watching all the time?

> It’s actually ‘you’re’

> where

> where?

> WHERE DID I ASK—

-

There is a house on a hill in the forest. It looks familiar, with a basement, a middle floor, and a top floor with stairs leading up from the outside.

There is a house beneath a hill in a fierce tundra. 

There was a house on a hill in a forest. It was a home too, once.

Both can theoretically exist at the same time. The house on a hill in the forest is perfectly ingrained in his memory, enough for him to replicate it bit by bit.

There is a boy with a beanie, taller than him. He wears a scowl.

There is a boy smaller than him with a bandage on his cheek.

Sunlight flows through the curtains like honey, oozing in warm delight. There is something resting on the bridge of his nose, and his fingers fly to adjust it.

He laughs.

The tiny freckled boy smiles and it shows his tooth gap.

A deep, tenor voice calls from downstairs and they rush to where storage is, the chests the dining room.

Their father is tired. There are bags under his blue eyes, but his smile lights up the room like the honey-light and like his brothers’ faces. He takes off his hat to sit at the table, a cape swishing behind him.

They’re singing at the table. Four humans with perfect harmony. They sing together all the time, how could he forget?

 The candles on the cake are flickering, and it’s a world away from the fires of the Nether.

“Happy birthday T̶̡͆̋́͝—”

-

Nothing else but static noise and Chat going wild.

“I’m sixteen! I am an adult man!” Tommy’s fists are balled as he stands, beating against his chest to each word and anger burns in his eyes until he sees his hero’s face. “Technoblade?”

His heart pounded.

-

The boy that Technoblade has been seeing through the eyes of is not an adult. Now he is a teenager. He is taller, the clothes more unfitting than before. There are stitches to fix the jacket, now forced to be a half-coat that tucks into his shirt.

He looks like the mockery of a man.

Actually, he doesn’t look like a man at all.

-

Technoblade remembered this part.

The rest had to be a daydream, the machinations of a tired mind. Separating his identity from his mask is impossible.

Literally.

-

He has forgotten what snow feels like. He has forgotten snow. There are many things Technoblade has forgotten, but the name of snow sticks. Snow. It sounds like a dream, like the deranged ramblings of a piglin who lost his mind, and like a fairy tale all at once.

He liked fairy tales, once. 

Now they’re just unrealistic.

The piglin group he is trailing turn to look at him. He’s been following behind them, scavenging whatever food they decide to discard and bartering whatever he can get his hands on. Their eyes are vacant, white. His eyes are present, despite his appearance. Alert. He has to be, it’s one mistake and death. 

The Nether is not forgiving.

He notices when their behavior shifts.

The piglins decide to attack. 

Technoblade sighs.

He doesn’t want to attack this one. There have been too many packs, too many attempts at communication, too many tries at a family.

Technoblade has no tools. He’s forced to work with his fists and some metal the pigs scrapped, which with enough tempering he’s made into knuckles. Netherite knuckles, but that knowledge will evade him until years in the future.

He busts one of the pigs’ heads open, then shoves another’s head into the netherrack wall. Blood spills on his boots. A tusk is embedded in his hand; he puts pressure on the wound then yanks it out, stabbing it into the head of the third. The fourth pushes into his back, and Techno slams his head back into its skull until it fractures.

The fifth runs off. 

And all at once, an uproar, a chant from a place and group he cannot see or hear.

It sings that Technoblade never dies.

-

All at once Chat was unanimous:

> Technoblade never dies.

> TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES

> technoblade never dies

> blood for the blood god!!!

> Techno never dies

> Technoblade never dies!

He nodded in agreement.

“Technoblade.”

Tommy laughed.

Techno realized he had convinced the child he was fine.

“Is that how you get the girls, Blade?”

“I’m not interested.” The art of combat and potato farming interested him more than girls. Or anyone, for that matter. 

“Are you crying?”

“No.” Tommy sniffed. 

“Here, let go of Carl.” Technoblade pulled Tommy away.

“But I wasn’t—”

“I killed everyone that ever touched that horse.”

“Okay, fine.” Tommy doesn’t move.

Techoblade can’t sigh because he’s already sighed too much and anything that exacerbates the situation will give him a headache. Instead, he picks Tommy up and lifts him over his shoulder. He chooses to say nothing in response as Techno headed inside and down, down, until they were both in Tommy’s little nest of shiny things and stolen goods. 

Tommy struggled to stay on the bridge of consciousness. Technoblade takes his hand and walks him all the way there, staying down in the pitiful hole until Tommy has tired himself out from the sound of his own voice.

It was hours before he risked stepping away from the bed.

Snow fluttered down. It was cold and wet, but it was snow; a miracle all the same. 

Technoblade stretched out a hoof. It was not the hand of a small child that was trapped in the Nether. It was a Piglin beast who had believed he'd never feel the cold again. 

Technoblade glanced out the shutters. Tommy was inside, falling asleep. The silence of the home told him as much. 

He pulled his hand back inside. 

The fire of the top floor crackled. Techno dipped his head forward. His hands clasped around an invisible buckle, hidden underneath his hair. 

As easy and simple as changing clothes, Technoblade the human stood in his retirement home. His height was the same, scars still present, but now a long unkempt braid of hair trailed down his back. It was ill-maintained, tangled and disgusting. A liability.

Without thinking twice, Technoblade took his sword and slashed the braid off.

-

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?!” Dream yells. It feels like the ground is shaking beneath them.

Techno stands firm. He’s towering above him, sword at his side.

“Nope. I’ve been told it’s one of my best qualities.” His voice is monotonous as always.

The green fiend stood hunched over his stomach, shoulders rising and falling to the tune of his ragged breaths. He knew that they didn’t need to breathe. It was all theatrics, even in the middle of a fight. Still, Dream’s voice was frantic, jittery, shaking, and loud; something Chat assured him they altogether had never seen in their combined existences.

Technoblade felt smug.

Technoblade made the grave mistake of hubris.

In a flash, the god is behind him. The god that can see the straps of his mask, the god that slices it off with a well-placed swordstrike and grabs him by his braid.

“Y’know, I really didn’t want to kill you. I’ve heard about you, a little bit. I just didn’t care.” He whispers into Techno’s ear as the pain tears into his scalp.

It only took a half-second for him to find a solution.

Dream was guarding from the left, expecting another hit to his mask. 

Technoblade swiped at the right.

In a flash, he’s cut off his braid of pink hair and freed himself from the clutches of his enemy.

He smirks, and pulls out his axe. He doesn’t need the mask to fight, it’s already a part of him.

“C’mere, Dream.”

-

That one. That memory is real and he has all the proof he needs of that. He turned over his hand and pushed up the brass knuckles to see the gashes along his finger from where he held the grip. He sets the hand-to-hand weapon on the crafting table as he massages his hands.

Soaking his fingers in instant healing should alleviate the pain. Even for a moment. 

Dream hit hard. The wounds never left. 

But Technoblade hit harder.

A burned hand reached out to the snowfall. 

The snow didn't burn back. 

"He's not me, Chat. We're keeping it that way."

If there was one thing Technoblade was good at achieving, it was his goals.

[meenah-chan]

Requested by: @zimelu-eloni-nova-lycan (hope you see this since I can't tag you ಥ‿ಥ)

My apologies in advance if Malleus is OOC. Other than wanting to play TW and doing a bit of research of him, I know nothing 😂 I never thought of taking requests coz I'm a slow writer but it was quite interesting so I did it anyways. (And took daaays to finish 😂)

To Thine Own Self Be True

An OM! Brothers x GN! Dark Fae MC (slight OM! X Twisted Wonderland crossover)

5.47k words

Genre: flangst

Trigger warnings: self harm, violence, self depreciation? (cringe jk) Read at your own discretion.

"You're an incomplete puzzle... I hope you find your missing pieces." And thus, they were sent to someplace they didn't know...

They... have always been alone. But Y/N is not lonely. They have Malleus, a powerful yet caring brother. They have their grandmother, that even as busy as she is, tries to show her love as much as possible.

They are the only one they need. As long as they have them, they needn't anything else. Or atleast they think so.

"As a part of royal family, you have to broaden your horizon." But they think otherwise.

Before Malleus' departure for Night Raven College, he left Y/N a word, "You're an incomplete puzzle, Y/N. I hope you find your missing pieces." and that was months ago, and they were still confused by it.

Incomplete puzzle... It doesn't feel like they are. They are content of what they have. They capable of doing most tasks perfectly. They fulfill their responsibilities impeccably. It's not like they can't live on their own either. Having no friends and acquaintances but they're two family members is also fine. They don't need any more. No one who could stand their presence anyways.

The intimidating dark energy far more destructive than a fae possessed, in which Y/N could never control. Those menacing, sharp green eyes. Their skin as pale as the dead corpse, and lips charred black. But most of all, those pair of disgustingly sharp, black horns that keeps on growing back no matter how hard they try to get rid of it.

Y/N is the epitome of fear. They knew it more than anyone. If they were to be reckoned that way, it is better to maintain distance from everyone.

But I should fulfill my duty, atleast. They thought, fortifying their resolve as they stood before the future King of Devildom and his butler. "Welcome to Devildom, Y/N Draconia."

"It's an honor to be of your acquaintance, Prince Diavolo." Placing a palm on their chest, Y/N bowed.

As per the two Kingdom's agreement, they were to live in a safe place different from a lavish lifestyle they have been used to inside their gold plated walls. And thus they were led by the Future king's shadow, Barbatos, to their new home. The House of Lamentation.

House of Lamentation. What a gloomy and dreadful place, befitting a sinister being like me. they scoff.

But the sight the dark fae witnessed within that walls was not within their expectations.

"Beel! Don't eat the my wallet! H–Hey, I said let go! My goldie'll snap! B–Belphie, help me!" A white-haired man is pulling a leather wallet from the teeth of a bulky orange-haired one.

"Smells chicken mushroom oil." While the orange head kept their teeth sunk into the wallet almost ripped into two. "It's just a drop, stop going crazy over it!"

"Belphie, wake up! You promised you'll help me with clearing dungeons today! The raid will start anytime now!!" A violet haired male violently shakes an asleep man in blue but the man is far from dazed at all.

"Hrmm... Five more minutes—" "We have no more time!! I can't play with a missing player!"

A feminine faced guy appeared right in front of them, instantly invading their comfort zone and kept locking eyes with them. "Ohh? Who is this with you Barbatos? Ahh, The one moving in! You're quite early, darling. Ignore those bunch in the back and play with me?"

"Behave, you fools!!" A booming voice reverberates and in an instant, the rowdy bunch is silenced. "Such a disgrace..."

Except for one, who didn't make any ruckus until that very moment.

A bucket came flitting up in the air and in the next second, all of its contents all poured on the man who controlled the ruckus a while ago.

"SAAAAATAN!!" It was an utter chaos. This place far from the gloomy place they have in their imagination. It is filled with rabid demons that could obliterate them were they to join forces, and now Y/N have to adjust in this new environment.

"I see it's not a great time to introduce myself." Said Y/N, yet the only one who probably heard them is the butler beside them. "If you'll excuse me, I would like to know where my room is."

"As you wish, your Excellency. Allow me to lead you the way." The butler responded to them. They left the common room, where the rowdy ones moments ago, were trying to suppress the supposedly-most decent of the seven, from destroying the mansion.

Y/N usually do not receive a normal greetings on the events they've been into or more like, forced to come by either their grandmother or by Malleus. It could be the fairies either— gives them space with no one dare shorten the distance; reluctantly greet them before leaving them as fast as they could or; flat out ignore them.

Yet so far, the experience I have today is by all odds, the most insulting way I have ever been greeted. Y/N clasps their trembling hands as they sat on the bed.

I wish this will end sooner. This will be a hell for me...

Almost everyday is a crazy, eventful day. Far different than their everyday life in the Valley of Thorns, their homeland. First impression doesn't really matter to Y/N, but for some reason, they couldn't stand them since day 1. Sure, they haven't done anymore distasteful things like the rude way of welcoming them. Still, the members of the family are crazily weird in their own ways. And they hate it.

Lucifer is the eldest of the brothers. The one who leads the brothers and manage everything in place.

"As your family have wished, you were to live differently than you have thus far. So I won't exempt you with the cooking and housework."

"As a part of Royal family, I expect great things from you. I won't tolerate screw ups."

"Remember to complete your tasks. I am assigned by Diavolo to take care of you, so I will check on your activities throughout your stay here." He is an ass. A bossy and dominating dictator who think he could order a royalty like them.

But one time, when they entered his study, they saw a scene they never thought they'll ever perceive.

*Tak* A fountain pen falling from his gripless hand.

He was splayed on his desk filled with tall stacks of paper, out cold. Y/N didn't know they would witness such vulnerable side of such condescending demon.

So they chose to put off their business for tomorrow, placing his coat over him and letting him rest.

But the event didn't occur only once. Atleast twice a week of exact time before midnight, he's always been unconscious on his desk. That's when Y/N realized: he is not strict and short tempered for no reason.

As the eldest, he took it to himself to be the father figure to the brothers, all while perfectly doing his job as Diavolo's right-hand man. He fulfills his job with perfection. But perfection doesn't come without hardwork nor sacrifices. For the sake of his great responsibility he sacrifice himself, working so hard until he drop on his desk.

With thoughts of him made Y/N ponder over something.

Does having a father feels like having a Lucifer in my life? Maybe it is, they never knew since they never remember their's. He isn't as bad as they thought he were if they think it that way. That is praiseworthy, as they think so themself and deserve some respect.

No more stern expressions whenever speaking to him. Being more compliant if his instruction is reasonable. Thanking him even for a simple thing he does for them.

Soon, they noticed he doesn't nitpick them either and praise them for every job well done. The dark fae may still be annoyed with him but that's not a bad outcome at all.

And then there's Mammon, the second eldest, who is supposed to assist the eldest.

"Ye're a royalty right? So ye're loaded. I'm in a pinch right now so let me borrow from you." He leans on their shoulder, with his smug grin.

"Don't listen to that fool. It's past 200 years and he still haven't paid his debts to me yet."

"Shut up, you otaku!"

Behind violet-haired appears the black haired demon. "MAMMON..."

"EEK— W–Wait!! Lucifer, this is not wha–ACK—!!" Mammon is a scum. A rude demon who could care less of his words and language. Trouble is where he is. Even so, in his tough exterior, Y/N took note of a soft side.

Y/N saw him one time, poking at the mopping otaku demon outside his room. "Yo Levi. What you doin' there?"

"Just let me be... I lose my raid last time because I couldn't play... Now I can't even bear looking at my PC... No one would want to play to a no-show gamer like me..."

"Hmm... Then, it can't be helped. C'mon, your big brother Mammon will play with you!"

"R–Really..?"

"Yeah, Yeah. Let's play to your heart's content" He pulled him up and push him inside his room.

Consoling a sad brother, lending a helping hand when they need it. He may not look like it, but Mammon is also taking good care of his brothers. All the emotional support Lucifer fails to give his brothers, Mammon provides.

So before Mammon entered the room, the dark fae decided to tap his shoulder, earning his attention. "You really love your brothers."

"W–Wha... Where does... who loves—"

"That's really admirable." They promptly reach out a bottle of a jet-black faerie dust only they could concoct. Mammon gingerly took it from them and scanned the inside. "That may help you settle some of your debts. Then..." After giving the bottle, they went on their way.

"AAAAHHHH!! THIS IS ULTRA RARE!" As expected to a man who could appraise goods.

They remember Malleus from his caring side, they couldn't help but smile and commend the yellow demon. I miss my brother...

Leviathan on the other hand, has a different case. He is the third-born of that household. A timid person... At first glance, atleast.

They just can't understand him. He spoke in language they couldn't wrap their head around like, "LOL! ROFLMAO!", "Tss, normie..."

It is tolerable, at least. What they can't tolerate is the fact that,

"UUWAAH!! MY RURI-CHAN LIMITED EDITION COBALT PIN AND FIGURINE IS HERE!!" He is, by far, the loudest. His sudden and unexpected outbursts kept on triggering every jumpy cells in their system.

Leviathan is too hyped he seemed to enter his own dimension. He skipped through the corridor, he sung a Ruri-whatever song that is, until, "Ahh—" he made a misstep in the stairs, a few steps away from them.

Y/N dashed and caught them barely in time, with firm hold between his shoulder blades and another to his package, which should be flying right now but was pressed secured to his chest.

"You should be more careful or you'll hurt yourself. Your treasured package almost fell." They sighed.

"... An angel has descended." He stared at them in awe. As he move his hand to the box, he touched their hand. That's when their position fianally sinks in to him. His face flared beet red and in a few seconds blew a fuse, passing out right on the spot.

"... What a troublesome demon..." With no other choice but to bring him themself, he carried the unconscious Leviathan up to their room. After opening the door, what welcomed them is a messy room.

No, not messy. The room is filled with items and materials of all sorts. Tons of CDs, figurines and posters on shelves and walls. Stuff toys and pillows of all shapes and sizes. Hanged intricate costumes and clothes, which in just a glance, they knew is made with effort. Even pins, threads and needle atop a... Sewing machine? Did he made all of this?

Y/N took another glance on the other side of the room. There he saw three monitors with various programs registered. A game, video editor and a Photoshop... I wonder what else can this man do?

Is this what they call a hobby? Such passion and dedication in pursuit of doing what he loves... An unfamiliar feeling for this dark fae.

They... can't really understand this man. Not at all... But I can now see him in another light, I guess...

The one who sought Y/N first were Beelzebub, the sixth-born. A bulky, tall demon who loves to eat. They were having a snack on the balcony when the older twin sniffs his way in. Such action that freaked the dark fae out internally, considering the sight they witnessed when they first moved in. The fact that they saw a few times 'accidentally' eating inedible things doesn't helped at all either.

"I followed the smell from the kitchen. Your cake smells delicious!" The drooling giant stood by them, and they couldn't take another sip from their tea.

"Hmm... Help yourself." Or you may help yourself with my flesh if I didn't satisfy your hunger.

"Really?!" He sat oposite to them and within minutes, all the plates on the table were wiped clean. "That was delicious!... Ahh that's right. Y/N, why aren't you eating with us during meals?"

"I'm used to eating by myself."

"But why? Eating with someone make the food taste better." Y/N doubt that'll be the case if that someone is him, who could definitely eat them if his appetite cries its needs.

Beelzebub touched his chin, thinking. "Hmm... How about I eat with you during snacks time? I'll bring food you'll definitely like!"

"Ah—" And they lost their timing. His eyes sparkles like stars and the pure happiness in his voice made it impossible for them to refuse. They wouldn't know what he could do were they to decline what he desire.

Since then he would appear without fail during Y/N's snack time, sharing both of their food with each other.

They tried to slowly end such dangerous activity yet, the enthusiasm in his eyes whenever he eat held them back. In the end, Y/N conceded, increasing their baked goods everyday to sate the needs of the ball of sunshine before them– who could bring warmth or burn them. As a response he will also eat it all like it's his first time eating their goods.

He is a man of few words yet, also quite easy to read, especially when eating the sweets they made themself. A straight forward person who means just as he say.

He would even sometimes bring his other twin, who will eat a few bites before snoozing.

"Beel really likes you, you know..." They glanced from their teacup to the youngest, seating beside them as the gobbling twin is busy with his food.

Belphegor stares in an ever-drowsy eyes. He is the man they least interacted with. How can they? Whenever they see him, he is always asleep. And it's not like Y/N is interested in communicating with him or anyone at all. "He even does his research for everything he brings you here. I don't know if you knew, but he really want to convince you to eat meals with everyone."

"...Ehh? Why? We're not even..." Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"Because he loves everything you make. He wants to talk to you ever since the first time you cook, but you're too antisocial to even eat with us."

"Says the demon who is always sleeping whenever I see him." Y/N snorts before taking a bite from the cupcake Beel brought. Hmm... this is good...

"...You, are you getting enough sleep?" Belphegor peers at their face.

"...None of your business."

"Whatever..." He frowns before burrying his face on his pillow.

What a keen observant. Y/N thought.

They've also been observing him since the first day. They share a lot of classes together and the dark fae knew, he is someone who rarely attend his classes, and whenever he does, he is always asleep. They also never saw him hold a book, much more read it. Yet, when they have exams, he finishes halfway the alloted time, almost the same time as them and sleeps after. The worst thing is that he could pass them easily.

He... is a dormant monstrosity. They conclude as they unlock the door to their room the day after. But before they do so, they noticed something.

Beside the door is an unfamiliar paper bag and inside... is a pillow, a bit caved it to the top center—similar to the one they use back to their home to be able to sleep well. It also comes with a note:

'The caneles and the stew is passable. You can throw away the pillow if you don't want it. Just know that it took me a great deal of effort to buy that.'

Really, what a frightening observant.

And there is Satan, the fourth-born, a pretty decent guy who craves for nothing but knowledge. If Y/N may say, he is the one they spend the most time with, though it's not that much.

"What are you reading?" Voicing not a word, they faced him the book cover.

"L’intelletto e Il Cuore... Hmm, that's a good choice." With at least 3 meters away from him, and few to no words exchange between them inside the library, it's not really that much.

He is a rational and intelligent man who respects personal space. Though, from time to time he would snicker eerily between the silence they have, holding either a cursed or homicide book. Creepy.

"What did you say...? The books you borrowed from me... Fell in the river? And it was washed away...?" And when he is angry, all his rationality is thrown out of the window.

"I–I will replace it I promise–" Pleads the peach-haired demon, kneeling before him.

"Replace, you say...? Didn't you know they were a Century membership gift to me from the Bibliomagicus Guild? Do you think that's replaceable...? Ha... Haha...HAHAHAHA!! THEN WHY DON'T YOU REPLACE THEM WITH YOUR WORTHLESS LIFE, HUH?!"

His wrath makes Y/N tremble, like all the bookshelves and books present in the library. Right, the books, the bookshelves. He'll destroy everything if this continues.

"Somnus Enim a Dum." So in a snap they cast a spell, amplified by their own dark pixie dust, and render him unconscious.

"Y/N!" That night he showed up in the library, frantically and still disheveled clothes and hair.

"Thank you. I don't know what would've happen if you're not there. And I also apologize you get to see that side of me." It's the first time they ever saw him smile without looking at the book. A smile similar to their brother.

"You're weird. You got so angry because of books that you'll ruin all the other irreplaceable books here."

"..."

"Don't mind it. I'd feel bad if the books are ruined."

"...Right." He chuckled, brushing his hair with his fingers and fixing his clothes to place. He then picked up the book he's reading, pulling the other sofa to sit beside them.

Now that's annoying. Nevertheless they let him. For they're a mere guest.

The fifth-born, Asmodeus, is not a problem back then. Having only a few occasional invitations for salon and parties, they could decline politely. But after the book incident, everything about his approach changes.

Since then, there was Asmodeus, everywhere!

In the classroom, in the library, in the music room, in the planetarium, in the balcony, in the bed, even the bathroom! He won't give them a break!

"Y/N~ I noticed you're always with Satan in the library. Are you getting along well? Beel too, you always bake and eat with him. That's so unfair! And you invite Belphie without me? Don't tell me you already like one of them?"

"If you'll choose one of us, shouldn't you choose me, the most beautiful demon of them all? I swear I can love you thousandfold than any of them, but... of course you can only be my second~~"

"What's with you and Lucifer? You always went to him every night. Is it a nightly endeavor? Hey~? Y/N, don't ignore me~!" He is a complete chatterbox. A motormouthed demon who don't know when to shut up.

But being with him comes with a few merits. Despite not looking like it, Asmodeus is a real gentleman. He maybe not as keen as Belphegor's capability to observe, but Asmodeus is an attentive and thoughtful demon. He does his everything to provide every small help he could give to them.

Whilst not needing help, it's much better than him being a clingy, dead weight. Y/N tries to look at the bright side.

"But this is tiring..." Y/N sighed, closing the book they are holding.

"Are you tired of reading? C'mon, let's go out and breathe fresh air!" I'm tired of you, you idiot.

"If you want to go out, you can go." The dark fae massaged their temple. It's been throbbing from time to time after that incident with Satan and Asmodeus bugged them.

"No! You've always been cooping yourself here or your room since coming here. You have to go out from time to time or you'll wither away!"

"You're so noisy Asmo. Y/N said they don't want to go." Asmodeus pout at Satan sitting beside Y/N, before pulling the dark fae out of the library and House of Lamentation.

"I'm telling you, I don't need this." Asmodeus holds 5 hangers of clothes, pondering which one fit them best.

"But~ It's such a waste for a beautiful person like you if you don't try dolling yourself up..." They stare at Asmodeus as if he just said the most ridiculous thing he could ever say.

"Don't tell me..." Asmodeus stared at them in disbelief, gasping dramatically like he always does,t "Y/N, YOU'RE GORGEOUS! DON'T EVER THINK YOU'RE NOT! YOU'RE A DROP DEAD BEAUTY AND—" They covered his lips before he could even shout louder in such a public place.

He then pulled their hands off after a few moments. "And look! A bit of blush suits you! And black lipstick—" Y/N let him dressed them up— in exchange of shutting up. He chose meticulously, accenting every parts that they consider an abomination. A dizzying position they were in.

But the real deal has yet to come. What's worse than being bothered by a bug? More bugs...

"Asmo, are you nuts! You're hogging them all to yourself!" Mammon barged in their room as Asmo is applying makeup to them who gave up on him for a while now.

"Y/N couldn't come to our snack time because of you." Beel and Belphegor followed close behind, clearly unamused of Asmo's action.

"I haven't even got a chance to introduce them to the wonders of anime and games!" So do is Leviathan.

"They prefer reading in the library more, right Y/N?" Satan rest his back on the door frame, crossed arms.

"Excuse me? If I may say, Satan, Beel and Belphie are the one who took their time more than I!"

"YOU—" And their greatest fear since living in Devildom occurs. All hell broke loose. An all out brawl of the short tempered demons before them with all the six brothers, a thread away from transforming and blasting everything they touch. No... That's not it. Without transforming, they're already smashing everything into pieces.

The dressers. The desk. The chairs and mirrors. Everything but the bed they are sitting on.

"WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE!" The last and the strongest of the brothers made his appearance, yelling in his most intimidating voice.

And they...finally snapped.

"Each and everyone of you... GET. OUT!!!" Such horror reflected on their eyes, with their whole being trembling uncontrollably. Tears poured down one after another. All of the emotions the brothers have never seen them make all spilled before them. As if a predator threatened to the end of their life.

On their hands...

were horns severed from their own head. The seven demons were so taken aback their bodies moved on their own to comply to Y/N's order... or more like, plead.

And the doors were completely closed.

They never left their ransacked room. They wouldn't open their doors to anything. No food, gifts nor even apologies. All but the brothers' words received a single response: "Malleus... I want my brother."

Hence the brothers and future king have no choice but to call him as soon as possible, or they will perish inside such place, alone like they've always been.

"Thank you for taking good care of my sibling. I hope you will continue so in the future."

"We also hoped we could. Yet considering the circumstances, I doubt they would want to stay here a second longer."

"Let—" but before Malleus could even finished his sentence, Y/N came flying down on him.

The distressed fae buried their face in their safe haven's chest. He then proceed carrying them in his arms, assuring them they are safe.

Lucifer led them to the music room, giving them privacy in their conversation.

"You've become so light, Y/N. And what happened to your horns?"

"...I wanna go home."

"Why? Do you hate this place?"

"I'm scared of them since the first day."

"That's understandable... But is that all?" Y/N stare at him in disbelief, while Malleus smiling softly at them.

"...Then what else... should I feel? I know I'm a monster... But that doesn't mean I could live with such monstrous demons! I'm just a monster with a weak heart!"

"Then you can blame it all on me. I'm the one who chose this place for you after all." All words were blown off Y/N's mind. The furrow between their eyebrows disappears as their face relaxes.

"Brother... But why?"

"I want you to realize your own self."

"..."

"Now answer me. You said you're scared of them, but do you hate them? Do you want to leave this place so badly? Is that really everything you've felt in this place?"

"Of course! I... I..." Y/N already knew the answer to his question, way before he even asked.

"They were annoying, noisy and self-centered bunch who does things as they pleased. They keep dragging me on their antics, I never had a peace of mind... I hated it, I despise it. I..." They bit their lips.

"I felt so frustrated! Why do they look so lively and happy despite being so unruly? They're always on each others neck yet they were having fun? Why?! And hobbies? How can they have such thing? I have nothing of sort! I just wake up day after day, desperately searching for something and fill this empty void inside me!"

"I fulfill my responsibilities without fail, on what cause? I have no purpose! Seeing that demons made me feel so miserable with my existence!"

They looked on their lap, holding back the tears on verge of falling. "What do they have that I don't? They're also the strongest, incredibly so that even I shook when they unleash their power! So why aren't they isolated like I am? How can they live a normal life unlike me?!"

"I think you already know the answer."

"...Because... They rely on each other. I never relied on anyone nor let anyone rely on me..." Malleus' smile widens when they hit the nail on the head.

"You're a strong person, Y/N. You won't even depend on us, not until today. You're capable of anything. You're just afraid of any more rejection, of being left behind." He paused and lift their face to meet his eyes, "Diavolo and others explained to me what happened. They said the incident frightened you. Yet knowing you, I doubt it is fear. Will you tell me why you blew off?"

"...I was overwhelmed. They were fighting over me. It never happened to me before so don't know what to feel. The attention was too much that I hated it. And I don't know how to respond to them..."

"So you brushed them off and isolated yourself." They nod weakly.

"And you snapped your horns to show them you're not who they think you are; to scare them off."

"Something like that..." Malleus smiled at them as he pet their head. "See? It's not bad being honest to yourself. Do you still want to leave, now that you let it all off your chest?"

Y/N shooked their head. "I want to stay."

"My Y/N is amazing... To surpass all the beings who estranged them. You're all grown up now." He held them in his arms, Y/N nuzzling onto his chest.

"Come on, they've been waiting for you for the longest time. You know what to do, right?"

"Yes." They left the room, Y/N clinging to him like never before. As childish as it seems, Malleus knew they grew a lot in just a few months of living in Devildom. It is indeed a great decision to choose the brothers to take care of them. They were no longer the incomplete puzzle he saw before he left for his studies.

"Y–Y/N..." Waiting in the common room are the seven brothers with Diavolo and Barbatos.

"W–We understand if you really want to l–leave." Mammon looked down as he clenched his fist.

"It was our fault." Leviathan followed.

"We've been insensitive, pressuring you despite knowing you're not accustomed interacting with a lot of people." Satan said with a serious frown.

"We even destroyed your belongings." Asmodeus glanced away, holding onto Satan's jacket.

"We'll make it up to you in any form."

"Y/N, sorry." Belphegor and Beel voiced respectively.

"It was due to my negligence you have to experience such incident. I also want to apologize." Lucifer held his palm to his chest for a slight bow.

"N–No!" Y/N strongly shook their head, "I should be the one to apologize! I'm so sorry!!" before bowing deeply.

"Y/N!? No, please raise your head—" Diavolo held Lucifer's shoulder to stop him like Malleus cued to let his sibling continue.

"It was all my fault! I've been a coward all this time. I was wrong for trying to push you all away when you don't mean harm. It was all my fault for venting all my frustrations to you. Please, if you would still allow it, I want to stay a bit longer."

"Y/N you are more than welcome here so please raise your head now. We don't deserve your apologies." Satan was the first one who walked towards them to raise their head.

"Y/N?!!" But as he did so, a crying Y/N appears in the brothers' view.

"This is the first time I will ever ask someone but," they sob and sniff, "will you guys be my friends?"

"Y–Yes, so please stop crying!" As conflicted as the brothers are, being asked such question that could hinder their future plans with them, they were forced to agree to their wish instantly.

Let's leave it for another day... The same phrase runs in the thoughts of the brothers, a very rare occurence to happen once in a millenium.

With Asmodeus' lead—he, Mammon, Leviathan, and Beel wrapped their arms around them to console the crying faerie. Lucifer, Satan and Belphegor stood a feet away from them, watching the five in the middle.

As things calms down, they decided to sit on the same dinner table for the very first time. Food were served by Barbatos, who prepares who knows when. He could actually have predicted such outcome for all they know.

The place were so warm, and lively. "This tastes wonderful." That's an understatement. The food have the richest taste than everything Y/N ate in their entire life. "You're right, Beel. Food were best eaten with someone." Beel have them a toothy grin. "I'm glad you get me."

After the meal, Y/N fell asleep on the spot. "Hehe, they're so carefree now." Belphegor played with their fringe. They didn't woke them up and instead carry them in a new room, letting them have the deep sleep they couldn't have for days.

"Congratulations, for being Y/N's first friends. I'll leave them in your care." Malleus bid his farewell to everyone, not bothering of waiting for Y/N to wake up. "I also hope this incident will be the last one."

"Yes, we won't let such thing happen again, and ensure a comfortable life for Y/N throughout their stay here." Diavolo answers in stead of everyone. The brothers are not in the shape to reply as they absorb Malleus' first sentence.

First friend. Such a bitter-sweet word. Whether the word stings them or not, it doesn't matter. It won't stop the brothers from trying to achieve the same goal as subtle as possible.

And so, a not-so-obvious scramble goes on.

This took longer than I expect 🤣😂 In all honesty, it was quite challenging, making a blatant All Brothers x MC. I also don't have a plot and flow until I actually wrote it sksksk dunno if that's a good or bad thing 😂🤣 and this was the longest one I wrote for the past half a year.

Masterlist

[faulty-writes]

Warning: Mention of characters from Manga. 

Fandom: My Hero Academia 

Pairing: Student!Hizashi Yamada x Student!Reader

[ This is my third piece for the Hero Bingo event hosted by @bnhabookclub, the theme for this is Runaway Bride. I added a bit of a twist to it as opposed to what most would think a runaway bride plotline should be. Still I hope you enjoy. I love Hizashi Yamada! ] 

[ Most would think a U.A. student’s life revolves around training, work-studies, and internships. However, most don’t realize that while U.A. students may be the talk of the town. They can participate in normal student activities. Despite your dedication to the support course, you decide to audition for a play U.A. is putting on. However, your friend Hizashi Yamada seems to disapprove of your decision and when he finds out a wedding scene is to take place. He is determined to bend some rules to finally get you to understand how he feels about you. ] 

Hizashi smiled as he watched you laugh along with the group that consisted of himself, Shouta Aizawa, and Oboro Shirakumo. However, more often than not you weren’t included when the students of Class 2-A made fun of the three boys. Dumbigos seemed to be their favorite word to use when describing the trio, which you didn’t take too kindly to. It wasn’t unusual for students to have friends in different classes, in your case.

You were a member of the Support Course and happened to meet Hizashi that way. He had come into the Development Studio asking for some type of sound device that would direct his voice quirk more effectively, of course, you were more than happy to help and found the over-enthusiastic blond to be charming. It wasn’t soon after that, you noticed Hizashi would come to the Development Studio just to see you and try to strike up a conversation.

You had gotten introduced to his friends that way and before you knew it, the four of you were hanging out and occasionally making weekend plans with one another. Of course, Hizashi seemed to be the one most after your attention. You thought nothing of it seeing as Hizashi was quite unreadable but unknown to you. He held feelings for you, which had started when you began defending not only him but Shouta and Oboro as well.

You never seemed to like the way the other hero students treated your boys and though it was almost amusing watching you scream at the bullies. Part of Hizashi felt bad, if anyone tried anything to hurt you. More than likely he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back. But luckily it never came to that, most would think that students in U.A. High were only dedicated to their department. However, that wasn’t the case.

U.A. also catered to various other aspects of High School life which included being a part of the school band, participating in after school activities, and putting on plays hosted by the drama club. Usually every High School had one major play they put on every year, though Hizashi never took part in such things. Acting wasn’t his strong point and he believed in being honest which often clashed with his acting ability as he hated things that made a mockery of true feelings. However, he wasn’t expecting you to actually want to audition for a part.

You had mentioned it during lunch as you sat against the wall with Shouta, Hizashi, and Oboro. “So, did you guys hear about the play U.A. is putting on?” Oboro smiled and nodded his head enthusiastically, “Yeah! I heard it’s supposed to be a really good one, what do you think Shouta?” he asked as he elbowed the grumpy boy who was only trying to finish his lunch and avoid conversation.

He let out a sigh and turned his attention to Oboro, “Who cares.” he said with a shrug. “It’s just some stupid play, nothing will come of it. I don’t know why Y/n is even mentioning it.” you frowned, Shouta was always such a stick in the mud. “I mentioned it because I’m thinking of auditioning for a part.” you said and gasped when Hizashi grabbed your shoulder. “Whaaaaaaat?!” he exclaimed, making you wince at the high volume of his voice.

You covered your ears and squirmed around to face him. “Don’t do that.” you scolded with a soft glare. “Oh uh...sorry.” he said as he rubbed the back of his head, “But ya caaaaaaaan’t audition!” he exclaimed once more and you held a finger up to your mouth. “Shhhh.” you hushed him, though you found his words confusing. You crossed your arms and looked at him suspiciously. “Why not?” you questioned, and Hizashi seemed a little nervous.

“Well...because…” he glanced away, trying to come up with a rational explanation. “Because?” you asked, trying to get him to speak. He shook his head, “Well, if you’re too busy practicing for the play. Ya won’t get to hang out with us as much!” he said, Shouta and Oboro looked at him just as equally as confused as you. Truth was, Hizashi didn’t want anything to take you away from him.

His personal feelings for acting and such might have something to do with it. Yet, Shouta and Oboro seemed to disagree with him. “Aw, come on Hizashi!” Oboro said before swallowing the food in his mouth, he’d always bring a bento box for lunch, and ironically, he’d always make a mess as well. There were small pieces of rice sticking to his mouth and cheeks, which in a way was almost cute.

But Shouta would always comment that Oboro was more like a toddler when he ate. “You have to let Y/n audition! We can always spend time together later.” he suggested, flashing a bright smile at Hizashi but Shouta huffed in response. “Stop making a big deal out of it Hizashi,” he said before he resumed eating.

“Three against one ain’t faaaaaaair!” Hizashi cried out before pouting, you couldn’t help but chuckle at his display. “I win,” you said before leaning close to him, “and I will audition, even if you don’t like it.” you said before standing on your feet, you brushed off the front of your uniform. “Better luck next time, I don’t know why you don’t try auditioning. You’d probably be good,” you said as you patted his shoulder.

“I’ll see you guys later, I want to get a headstart on my newest piece of equipment.” you waved Shouta and Oboro goodbye before leaving the cafeteria. Hizashi watched you leave with a pout and slumped against the wall, letting out a sigh. Oboro blinked at his friend’s odd behavior. “Is something wrong?” he questioned and Hizashi shrugged. Shouta rolled his eyes, “Do you really have to ask that?” he questioned, “It’s obvious what’s wrong.” Oboro still seemed lost.

“What do you mean?” he asked, though Shouta seemed more annoyed than usual. His eyebrow was twitching and his jaw was clenched. He was just trying to eat his lunch in peace. “Hizashi…” he said, effectively catching the boy’s attention. “Just tell them how you feel, it’s not that hard.” Hizashi jumped and glared at Shouta before pointing his finger at him.

“It is that haaaaaaaaaaaard! How do ya expect me to tell them!?” Shouta shrugged, not offering an answer while Oboro tapped his chin. “Well, I have an idea…” he said, though Hizashi and Shouta knew that Oboro’s ideas weren't the best. Hizashi was willing to listen anyway. “Okay, picture it!” Oboro began, holding his hands up in the air. “Dress up in your hero costume and buy a big bouquet of roses! Then you…” he trailed off when he noticed the look his friends were giving him.

“What?” he said before dropping his hands and Hizashi once more leaned against the wall, staring at the fellow students in the cafeteria. “How am I going to tell Y/n how I feel.” Hizashi whispered though he had enough confidence. Finding the courage to blurt out the words that sang from his heart was another obstacle entirely. Yet, his jealousy seemed to work against him a few days later when you told him you had gotten a lead role in the play.

You almost thought you had broken him with the expression he pulled, his jaw was dropped and his glasses were halfway down the bridge of his nose. His eyes were wide and it almost scared you, “Are you alright?” you asked, and Hizashi shook his head. “What did ya just say?!” he demanded, which made you jump. “Uh…” you pressed your hands to your chest, tilting your head. “I just said I auditioned for the play and I got a part!” you exclaimed happily, “It’s going to be amazing, there’s even a wedding scene!” Hizashi tried to push down the growl building in his throat.

“W-Wedding scene.” he repeated and you nodded, “Yeah, I mean there’s also a kissing scene but it’s nothing more than a peck on my groom’s lips. Well, I should say Sensoji's lips.” you replied and that growl finally escaped him. Sensoji was a student from Class 2-B and someone Hizashi tended to clash with. Just knowing your precious lips would be stolen away from that overgrown gorilla before he had a chance to taste them, made his jealousy rise. He clenched his fists and you took note of the awkward tension that was beginning to fill the air.

“Is something wrong Hizashi?” you questioned, taking note of the small trembles that began to course through his body. He clenched his jaw and looked toward the floor, “I-I’m fine. I have to go, I’ll catch ya later.” he said before quickly turning on his feet and running down the hallway. Ignoring your call, “Hizashi! Hizashi!” you stomped your foot, clearly confused. What the hell was his problem?

“Shouta!” the blond yelled as he approached the depressed-looking boy who was walking past the gates of U.A., Oboro right by his side. “Hm?” Both of them turned to look at Hizashi who scraped his shoes along the ground and caused dirt to fly up. “Guuuuuuuuys!” he cried out, causing Shouta to sigh and Oboro to raise his eyebrows in surprise. “Something wrong, Yamada?” he questioned as the boy caught his breath, nodding his head in response.

Shouta frowned, in all honesty, he just wanted to go home. But he was slightly curious as to what was bothering his friend, but he could guess just as easily. It was clear there was one thing on Hizashi’s mind lately, and his suspicions were only confirmed when the blond lifted his head and spoke. “It’s Y/n!” he exclaimed, pointing toward the U.A. building. “Huh? What about them, are they injured? Do they need help?” Oboro questioned and Hizashi shook his head. 

Shouta took a step forward and narrowed his eyes. “They told you about the play.” he stated, catching Hizashi off guard. “What…” Shouta and Oboro exchanged a look, “Opps uh well…” Oboro rubbed the back of his head before Shouta reached out and placed his hand on Hizashi’s shoulder. “Y/n already told us, I was hoping they wouldn’t find you but looks like they did,” he said before dropping his hand and Hizashi let out another growl.

He reached up to ruffle his hair, letting out a small burst of anger before he took a deep breath. “There’s a kissing scene!” he suddenly shouted, however, Shouta and Oboro seemed unphased by this as they were more than used to Hizashi’s loudness. Though the few students that were walking by jumped in surprise. Shouta raised his eyebrow and placed his hand on his hip. “So?” he questioned and Oboro shook his head.

“So?” he repeated before wrapping his arm around Shouta’s shoulders. The boy grunted in response, clearly annoyed as his friend pulled him close. “We have to prevent that kiss from happening!” he declared, throwing his fist into the air and Hizashi quickly followed. “YEEEEEEEEEAH!” he screamed yet again, Shouta groaned and Oboro released him before covering his ears.

“Keep it down,” Shouta warned before looking at Oboro who nodded in agreement. “Buuuuuuut,” he said, causing Shouta to almost cringe as he knew that Oboro was about to talk about yet another brilliant idea. “I have a solution! Remember my old idea?” he said, and Shouta rolled his eyes. “How is your old idea going to help?” he questioned but Hizashi held his hand up. “Now waaaaait a minute Shouta, I want to hear him out.” he said, and Oboro smirked in victory.

“Alright, you ready? This time you’re going to confess your feelings to Y/n and put a stop to that kiss in the process!” Hizashi smiled as he heard those words and nodded, “Let’s do it!” he declared enthusiastically as he folded his hands into fists, determined to finally tell you how he felt. Though he had to be careful not to give himself away and you began to grow concerned when he started avoiding you and a little suspicious when you saw him around the auditorium and during rehearsal.

It was even more concerning when you noticed that Shouta and Oboro were tagging along with him, what were they up to? You tried to ignore it and focused your attention on your role, though if you were being honest with yourself. You were a little nervous, you hadn’t expected to get a lead part when you auditioned. But at least Hizashi hadn’t complained, in fact, he hadn’t mentioned anything revolving the play since the day you told him you had gotten a part in it.

Strange. As opening day approached, you had tried to track down the trio. But it seemed the three dumbigos were nowhere to be found and in a way it upset you, one would think their closest friends would be there for them. Especially opening night of the play, maybe you misjudged them? But you didn’t need them if they were going to treat you this way.

Still, as the auditorium filled up, you couldn’t help but pull back the curtain and try to find their faces in the crowd. Unfortunately, it seemed they weren’t going to show up. Nemuri seemed to notice your odd behavior and walked up to you before the first act, “Y/n,” she said as she placed her hand on your shoulder. You jumped in surprise and turned to face her, “Hm?” she chuckled, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you darling. But you seem on edge, last minute jitterbugs?” she questioned and you frowned, should you tell her?

You weren’t sure, then again. You trusted Nemuri, even if she was a third year. You sigh and shrug your shoulders. “Hizashi isn’t here,” you began, “and neither are Shouta or Oboro. I haven’t seen any of them since I told them about this play in the first place!” you exclaimed as you stomped your foot, a small amount of anger filling you. “I mean...aren't they supposed to be here? Aren’t they supposed to support me? I...I don’t know what’s going on and all of them have been acting so strange lately I just…” you groaned and slapped your thighs.

Nemuri was a little surprised by your display, but she seemed to understand your dilemma and offered a smile. “I’m sure they’ll be here, you know those three. Especially Hizashi, he likes to make an entrance.” she explained as she placed her hand on her hip, you wanted to believe her and she did make sense. Those three boys left impressions everywhere they went.

“I…I guess.” you said before your sensei announced it was time for the first act and everyone needed to get into position. Nemuri smiled at you, “Good luck out there, break a leg.” she said with a wink and a soft blush came to your cheeks. “Uh, thank you.” Nemuri waved you goodbye as you ran off to take your position. Butterflies came as you watched the curtain go up, though you were a lead role. You couldn’t help but continue to glance over the crowd, praying that your friends would show up.

However, as the second, third, fourth, fifth act came. You had stopped searching as it was clear they weren’t going to show and honestly, it hurt. Your classmates noticed your sad expression, though none of them asked what was wrong and you couldn’t blame them. More than likely they were nervous about the outcome of the play and how it would improve or worsen U.A.’s reputation.

As the final scene approached, you felt a little awkward dressed as a bride. The white dress clashed with how your character was supposed to feel, how any bride was supposed to feel. Anger and sadness seemed to be swirling like a hurricane inside of you and maybe that was a good thing, as it numbed the butterflies that had bothered you at the start of the play.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder why your friends hadn’t shown up and hesitantly scanned over the crowd one last time as you walked onto the stage for the final scene. There were rose petals scattered across the floor and a few extras standing around, the scene was supposed to resemble a church in which your character was about to wed the love of their life. This also happened to be the kissing scene you weren’t exactly looking forward to, still given your sour mood you could care less. You walked onto the platform where Sensoji stood, he smirked as he saw you.

You cradled the fake bouquet of flowers to your chest, though this scene called for you to be cheerful. You just couldn’t bring yourself to smile, in fact in that moment. It almost seemed like you were standing on the stage by yourself, words became blurred as you got lost in your thoughts. “You may now kiss the bride.” That was your cue to complete the scene, but you were busy looking at the floor. Your expression blank and the extras on stage looked at one another.

“You may now kiss the bride.” the words were repeated and it wasn’t until one of your classmates nudged you that you snapped out of your thoughts. “Huh, what?” you questioned and realized your mistake, oh right. A fit of laughter came and you felt your cheeks heat up, damn it. You looked at Sensoji who seemed to be getting impatient, “Uh sorry.” you muttered before stepping closer and tried your best not to cringe when you felt him grab your arms gently and pull you close.

“Pucker up.” he said and though it disgusted you, it was part of the play. You swallowed and closed your eyes, leaning close. You could feel his hot breath against your mouth just before the lights went out. Several gasps filled the room and those on stage, including yourself, looked around confused. This wasn’t part of the play and you hissed as the stage light illuminated the entrance of the auditorium.

Your eyes widened as you saw Hizashi, dressed in leather from head to toe. However, you quickly realized it was his hero costume which raised another question, why was he wearing it? You turned on your feet, scanning the spotlight area and rolled your eyes when you saw Oboro perched next to the oversized light. Where was Shouta? Well, it didn’t matter.

It seems everyone else was at a loss and Hizashi smiled as he raised a microphone to his lips. “HEEEEEEEEY there listeners!!!!” he announced and you winced at the volume of his voice. He continued to smirk and raised his fist in the air, “I’m here to stop an INJUSTICE!!!” he exclaimed and your eyes widened. Confused looks were exchanged before Hizashi pointed to the stage and somehow you knew he was directing that finger at you.

“Y/N!!!!” he screamed and you felt embarrassed, especially as all eyes turned on you. Damn it, Hizashi. Your cheeks flushed and you glanced to the floor, a moment of silence came and Hizashi suddenly seemed nervous as his smile faded and his shoulders slumped. You slowly glanced up, was this why he hadn’t shown up? Was he just planning on doing this the whole time to ruin the play?

Shouta was perched down behind the last row of seats, acting as Hizashi’s support. “Hey…” he said, catching Hizashi’s attention. “Hm?” he responded before Shouta shook his head. “Stop letting your nerves get to you and just tell them how you feel already. I can’t believe you dragged me into this,” he said as he rolled his eyes and Hizashi almost wanted to growl but Shouta was right.

He needed to tell you this, even if this was the most extreme way to get his feelings across. He took a deep breath and turned his attention back on you, he felt his heart accelerate and brought the microphone to his lips once more. “Y/n, I can’t allow ya to kiss another man!” he shouted, and you looked at Sensoji who seemed to be fuming. His hands were curled into fists and you were a little afraid of what he’d do. But you focused your attention back to Hizashi. “Why…” you said before he took a step forward, “I love you!” your jaw dropped, did...you hear him correctly?

In the background, you could Oboro cheering. “Yeah! You finally did it Hizashi!” he said as the sound of his faint clapping filled the air and Shouta face palmed himself, Oboro normally brought unwanted attention to the three of them. You were still in disbelief and your feet seemed frozen to the stage, you placed your hand to your forehead. Maybe you fainted on stage and this was all a dream? Unfortunately, you knew the reality of the situation.

Hizashi, Shouta and Oboro were late because they had made up this whole scheme just so Hizashi could confess that he loved you? It was both creepy and yet somehow, touching. You took a step forward as Hizashi extended his hand, “I love you, Y/n! That’s why I cannot allow ya to kiss that so-called groom!” he pointed to Sensoji before running to you and in turn, you pulled up the bottom of your dress and ran to the end of the stage where Hizashi extended his hand out once more.  

“Hop on down from that stage and runaway with me!” he said and your face flushed, the sound of your heartbeat echoed in your ears and yet, you found yourself reaching for his hand. He smiled at you and without warning, grabbed your wrist and pulled. You gasped as you found yourself falling off the edge and straight into Hizashi’s arms. You were shocked and pressed your hands against his chest.

You hadn’t expected him to do such a thing, Hizashi was excitable but he’d never do anything to hurt his friends even if it was a joke. Still, you couldn’t help but look at him with adoring eyes. He smiled back at you, “Do ya truuuuuust me?!” he questioned and a small amount of fear filled you, what else was he planning to do? Your fingers curled into the front of his jacket before you hesitantly nodded.

“Great!” he chuckled before scooping you into his arms, you squeaked as your shoulder bumped into his chest. “Hizashi!” you cried out, it was one thing to be lifted up. But you were still wearing the wedding dress which was uncomfortable and the people that sat in the audience continued to look confused. You were grateful the lights were turned off as your face was bright red.

“Let’s go!” he said as he turned to run, your arms wrapped around his neck before he kicked open the auditorium doors and continued running. “Hey!” he said, tilting his head down to look at you. He found your expression and the way you perfectly fit in his arms to be adorable. You swallowed and parted your lips, “Y-Yes?” you said, your voice a little shaky. “I really stole my bride away huh?” he joked before kicking open another set of doors and ran toward the front gate. 

Shouta and Oboro were trailing behind him but stopped as they passed the front doors of the school. Watching as Hizashi ran off with you, the sound of clapping echoed from the auditorium. “Do you think they thought that was part of the play?” Oboro questioned, and Shouta shrugged. “Even if they did so what,” he replied before slipping his hands into his pockets. “Come on.” he said as he began to walk and Oboro tilted his head, “Come on what?” he questioned as he followed behind.

“We need to make sure Y/n returns that outfit to the drama department.” he said, though even he hadn’t expected Hizashi to carry you away. “Oh...right,” Oboro said and stopped when he stepped onto the sidewalk. “Do you want to ride one of my clouds?” he questioned, ready to manifest one on demand. But Shouta shook his head, “No…” he replied before looking into the distance.

“I can’t see them anymore, maybe we can just wait until tomorrow.” he said before he resumed walking. “Huh? So we’re just going to let them be?” Oboro asked as he placed both arms behind his head. “We...did a pretty good job with that though, huh? I didn’t expect it to go so smoothly,” he said and though Shouta didn’t want to, he found himself smiling.

“Yeah...at least Hizashi finally got Y/n.” he said as he looked up at the sky, the moon was full and white in color. “Do you think we’ll be lucky enough to see Hizashi carry off Y/n when they get married for real?” he questioned and Shouta turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised. Oboro blinked, “What?” he pouted and looked at the ground as he continued to walk. “It’s a nice thought,” he replied, but for now. He was happy his friend finally found the happiness he deserved.

[mystorytellerstuff]

Searching Truth

Batman Fanfiction

Searching Truth

Chapter One: Fired!

The room was buzzing that chilling morning. Men and women speaking softly about what they were writing about, but as not in too much details so nothing could ever get stolen. Clicking of keyboards echoed in the rather large room, taping of feet walking around to get where they are going, ringing of phones everywhere. It was a busy day, their due almost coming causing them to work a little bit harder. Oh, how she wish she was among them all. She rather be out there stressing unnecessarily than being seated in her bosses’, Mr. Derby, office with him jumping down her throat for yet another article that she did recently.

Her eyes stay glued out through the window, watching all her coworkers running around franticly. Listening to all the muffled sounds that came from the closed door. Besides that, the room was filled with a man’s grievance of needing to keep this business a float. Mr. Derby ranted for fifteen minutes about her negligence of popular media streams and that she needed to get a better story than the ones she’s been doing since she got here. But what was the point if she couldn’t print out all that happens in the night? The people that lurk out only causing chaos to other people. 

“We need more viewers to our brand, Laynie. No one doesn’t need you playing detective.” He told her harshly, his voice deep and gruf. He sat in his chair, leaned against the old desk. The light from both the window and the light in the ceiling caused a glare in his glass. A glow bouncing off his dark skin. Laynie rolled her eyes at his words, feeling her blood boil with anger. She knew red was creeping across her face, she didn’t have to look in a mirror to know this. 

“People deserve to know the truth, boss.” She responded just as harshly to him, turning her head to him with cold eyes. “And I’ll keep giving them what they need to know to keep them safe.” He heaved a tired sigh. This response was not new, but weighing its annoyance heavily on his shoulders. The old man had took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes a bit hard. Uncomfortable, Laynie thought to herself while watching him start to lose more patients with her. She could tell that he was at his wits end of her putting out the crime reporting and digging up activity that happened in certain areas of Gotham.

Mr. Derby stood up from behind the wooden desk adjusting the worn suit a bit before proceeding move around it. Placing himself a bit closer to her as he sat on top of the large desk that was littered with papers and folders.

“What they need is a peace of mind. Uncovering the things that this Batman does in the night doesn’t give them that.” He spoke to her a bit more softly. Hope in his voice that she understood him. Hoping that she would listen to him to keep herself alive. Especially since there’s not a lot to know about the mask vigilante, other than he fights the criminals during the night. He didn’t need her involve in something that he couldn’t very well trust or understand.

Laynie had heard her father’s words echoing in her mind. ‘You can’t find peace until you know there are problems to begin with.’ Of course she had thought it was silly when she was a child. Now though, now that she dug up more of every gang and criminal in this city, there no such thing like peace here. There never will be if people keep ignoring it, or being naïve that there isn’t a problem at all.

Laynie held his stare for a bit longer, not wanting to back down from this. She couldn’t agree with him at all. There was no peace in this city that she loves, and barely anyone who wasn’t living in the dumps had no idea what was going on in the dark. And barely any news cast covered it. She felt that the people had to know what else that was going on. Everything she could find and put out there.

The noise outside grew louder some, a bit of an argument circling among a few people. It didn’t take long for it to settle down. More typing, banging on metal desk now occurring amongst the crowd outside. The

“I disagree, boss.” Her voice went colder then before. Another minute of silence from both of them. His eyes drawing in disappointment at the reply she gave. He knew she would say that, knew her all too well. God have mercy on him moving forward with this. The solemn gaze to her way brought confusion to her.

“Then Laynie. You given no chose now.” With that said, he stood on his feet. Back straight, arms crossed. The suit now showing just how much he worn it. The bit of threads popping out, the material looked it was ready to collapse on itself any given moment. She brought her head up, narrowing her eyes with suspicions. What was Mr. Derby planning now? “If you don’t do this interview, I will have to let you go.” He warned her.

Laynie froze at this, honestly she didn’t see this coming at all. “You’ll fire me?” She spoke breathlessly. It hurt. Having a man she knew since she was a kid tell her this. “What the hell?” In a fit of hot blood temper, she also stood. Shoulders stiff with that anticipation he set out. Heart racing with worry, eyes spiking suddenly. Mr. Derby had placed a hand on her shoulder to her reaction. Wanting her to calm down.

“I’ve told you time and time again. You know your place here. And I am expecting no less than that. If you refuse, than I’m sorry. I have to fire you.” His voice assertive, but in a soothing tone. One she use to hear at a young age. Use to it was because she would run up and down the hallways, almost running into people in the process. Her father of course got on to her, but it was Mr. Derby’s stern eyes and assertive voice that caused her to listen. She felt like a child again, and she hated every moment of it. 

Laynie took in a deep breath then. Soon, she was looking away from him. A bit of bitterness towards this old man now that he was punishing for what she was passionate about. A few people started to leave for their lunch through the window. She really longed to go with them right now. Having to pull on her hair when writers block came, drinking ten cans of red bull to stay up through the night to finish her article or investigating a new lead for her life’s work. Having him threaten her only income just stung so bad. 

Finally, after moments of trying to keep from crying a bit and losing her temper, she faced him. Heaving a sigh, “Alright fine. I’ll do this damn interview.” Her boss smiled at her. It made her stomach twist unpleasantly. “Who am I interviewing?” She questioned him.

“Ah!” He went back around his desk, taking a seat in the big rolling chair. Doing a small dance of success that she was finally listening to him. Opposite of what she felt in that moment. Laynie stayed where she stood, folding her arms rather tightly. This was not what she wanted at all. It felt wrong. Laynie felt a little betrayed in that small moment. What happened to the man that wanted her to live out what she was passionate about doing? Now, all she saw was a stranger before her.

Mr., Derby heaved a sigh, leaning back like any old men out there. “You’ll be interviewing Bruce Wayne.” The answer was not what she wanted. It was bad enough that she was doing a stupid worthless interview. But with that guy? Laynie knew there was enough information and gossip about that guy. Whether they were true or not.

She groaned lightly, rolling her eyes to show her displeasure at the situation he put her in. “Don’t you think there’s enough 'peace of mind’ about that guy?” She questioned again, annoyed. The reaction causing him to grin gleefully.

“No.” He put it simply. Of course he wouldn’t, she thought. “You’ll be at his office tomorrow at 12.” Laynie nodded her head to him before leaving the small area. Mr. Derby had started typing away on his computer. She stopped in her tracks once the door closed behind her, glazing over people’s heads with a heavy heart. They were busy, like every day. Lucky them for not having to deal what she had to deal with. Her thoughts ran a bit wild while at what she needed to interview him. Her boss never told her what she needed to question him about.

That was when a grin appeared on her face. The mischievous glint in her eyes. Maybe she could take some creative liberties for her old boss. She almost felt like laughing evilly to herself at her plan. Laynie walked off to her little cuticle, cracking her knuckles as she went off in the internet to research Bruce Wayne. 

End of Chapter One

[aka-indulgence]

What if the reader in amits and tdtlu was a little kid? Not in a creepy way but in a 'paternal instincts activated' way

So- I got a LOT of baby/child reader and parental-instinct skeleton asks sent my way at different times and probably different people and guess what- I’m weak for big monsters that’re weak for little things ebh3hbsbrmnsb

(I’m sof ok)

So here’s baby reader-

(Also whoops I went a bit too far and had a lot of excitement because…. Look above, so I’ve put a read more)

So here’s baby reader-

Let’s start with Black (TDtLU) first. So like the last ask- I think a way that Black could safely take the kid under his wing (well, tentacle) would be if they were abandoned because who the heck brings their tiny child to a dangerous beach? Bad parents not ready to raise a child, they’ve put her on the beach alone one night, running away straight after. Black was just ready to sleep, the moonlight was filtering into the waters, the sea quiet. As he made last night territory checks, he heads to his cave and…

He hears the cry of a baby ring out. A human baby.

He wants to ignore it, it’s just noise. Whoever the hell decided to have their ‘honeymoon’ on this beach with their kid must’ve been pretty romantic and really stupid. So he tries to sleep…

But the baby cries again.

Black loves his peace, even monsters don’t get a pass if they disturb him, so he climbs out of the water…

Only to find the baby, alone, on the sand. Wrapped in blankets, starting to twist around the tiny body from all the thrashing it made.

… Black… Black didn’t know what to do. There was… A tiny… Human baby… on his sands. Black is pretty numb when it comes to killing, finds it quite satisfying most of the times, because he’s gotten rid of the pest. But this… This was a baby. A lonely, abandoned baby. They couldn’t just be… Forgotten, can they?

… So… He waits for awhile, seeing if anyone would find her (after he found out her gender on accident when the blankets slipped and apparently- she was not clothed), staying with her on the shore until dawn came. He held her close to his chest and shushed her, and somehow- Black doesn’t even know how- she calmed down when he cooed and crooned. This went on for several days, Black feeding the baby monster food because a baby this tiny can’t eat anything solid. He waits and waits, and…

No one shows up.

On the first day, Black would’ve been… Really reluctant to take a random baby into his care, but… When he sees the little thing coo at him when she had started to calm down, looking up at him with those wide, curious eyes, reaching for his phalanges when they came closer to her… And when she actually touched him, those tiny chubby fingers grabbing onto one of his phalanges, he couldn’t leave her alone. She was attached to him, she was curious with his bones, his tentacles- not scared of him. He still remembers when her tiny hands were on his ribcage, above his soul, and he could feel hers, small yet strong- a life ahead of her.

…. He couldn’t leave her. And he knows he was almost as attached to her as she was to him at that point, he could feel him drawn to her, wanting to protect and raise her.

He finds a tiny rocky island where he could watch her, made a tiny house after awhile to shield her from the weather.

He is like a mother with her, in protectiveness. He is hostile to any creature that approaches his baby’s home, his territorial magic strong in the water, currents around her tiny home. He plays with her every day, and he can’t stoop laughing whenever he plays a tiny game of “boo” with his tentacles, she always gets so surprised when he pokes her with one on the back when her attention was all on his bony hands.

And now to AMitS Sans… How would they meet?

Well, not with a tiny child seeing a giant skeleton murdering a man, for starters.

Here, reader would be around toddler age, she can start interacting with the world in small ways, knows simple language, and is very, very curious about the world, loving to explore. So she meets him rather than him meeting her first. Sans was off during that time, right after completing a task. He had started smoking at a corner of a building, next to the bustling streets, and… He found a tiny girl, in a cute little dress come up to him and tugging his pants.

… the… the hell..?

He is very confused as to why the hell a tiny human kid would just walk up to a red eyelighted, sharp teethed skeleton smoking but- He takes one look at the innocent eyes, tiny hand on the fabric of his pants, the absolutely straight-face she had on her when she looked at him- and he just can’t not give her all of his attention and adoration, he already has a weak spot for her.

He crouches down to her level, doing his best to keep the smoke away from her. He asks her about why she’s here, talking to him, if she’s lost. She says.. She is, and looking at the crowd walking back and forth on the pavement was enough to give Sans the answer as to how, and a question of “how the hell did this baby get to me in the first place,”

Obviously, Sans wouldn’t go to the police to drop her off, because while the cops are corrupt and have many deals with criminals- hell, most of them turn in witnesses to his gang when they go to the police but, he shouldn’t do it in the open.

He takes a stroll on the streets, having you propped on one of his arms as he asks you questions- “where are yer parents, kiddo?” “where d’ya live?” “how old are ya girly?” “3? wow, yer so amazin’ walkin’ in a crowd like that at 3!” “what’s your name? (y/n)? that’s a pretty name.”

… As he walks by with you and makes small talk… he realized… He likes kids. He didn’t think he’d be a good parent…

When you spot your parents at the police station, panicking about your whereabouts, you point at them enthusiastically, and Sans breaks into a sweat- fuck, there they are, how the fuck am i supposed to send this baby to ‘em- He teleports close to the door, setting you down and opening the door for you, but he doesn’t follow. He’ll just usher you to the inside, but you don’t leave immediately, instead looking at him. He crouches down to see what you have to say to him… And you just touch his cheekbones, rubbing it a little. Sans could feel the.. Pure affection in that little hand alone, and your smiling face. You wave goodbye to him, walking into the station.

… After that encounter, Sans meets you more, as your parents have been going to Redroad often. They’ll be at a cafe, and Sans’ll sneak a meeting with you. You trust him quickly from his oddly friendly nature, and Sans tries to say hello to you in either crowded places or quiet places- He doesn’t want any of his gang members or especially rivals seeing him being soft for a kid. He knows it’s dangerous, but you always insist on meeting him again, and he relents. He even visits you at home sometimes- Having keeping a watchful eye on you when you’re with your parents to make sure you go safely home… He knows it probably counts as stalking, but it makes him anxious not knowing if your family made it home. From that, he finds out that sometimes your parents can’t bring you with them… And you’re left alone in the house, because babysitters are hard to come by. So he makes himself a babysitter and plays with you, sometimes taking you to various places in the city for views since you’re bored at home. He always makes sure to know the parents schedule to know when to come and when not to.

And it is exactly on one of these “babysitting” trips… When he founds both of the little kid’s parents dead, and a lonely, crying baby in a locked room.

Your parents had been going underground out of desperation, which explains their going to Redroad- and it finally caught up to them. Sans recognizes the ‘style’ of killing so to speak- recognizes the gang.

He doesn’t understand how they left you alive. Pity? Or did they just not notice you? Your room was locked, so… He assumes the latter.

But it doesn’t matter how you’re alive- you’re alive. And he’s not going to leave you alone.

He comes home to his family home, a kid in hand, and when everyone looks to him with a puzzled look, Sans is sweating and smiling awkwardly.

“… look who i’ve brought home? a baby, and i’m adoptin’ her- fuck off to any of ya if ya don’t want her.”

… Sans was grateful they weren’t too opposed to him raising a kid.

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Dear reader,

I must caution you about this next chapter. This is the chapter where we continue to explore creepy undertones pertaining to Olaf as a character. If you are not comfortable with reading about predatory behavior, comments ranging from vague to slightly explicit (on the topic of these predatory behaviors), a young girl being restrained, a young girl being threatened, physical violence against a minor, threats to a minor, or vague to slightly specific comments about pedophilia, a creepy fuck stroking a young girl's hair, cheek, and leg... I would suggest skipping specific parts of this chapter. Since this time around it's spread around the VIOLET half of the chapter (although a few vague hints could be found in Klaus and Sunny's section).

Please read with caution. If anything becomes too triggering or makes you too uncomfortable I am happy to summarize in vague details (when going over certain parts) so you are still able to follow the story. Please if you can't read this chapter in its entirely, I will be more than happy to explain the events of the chapter in a less descriptive way.

_______________________________________________________________ Friendly Reminder:

I, Susan, the author of Misery Loves Company also wants to make it abundantly clear that THE TOPICS/TRIGGERS IN THIS CHAPTER are things I frown upon entirely. I do NOT condone pedophilia at all, whatsoever. And I believe it is NOW in my fic that I will say this: if you ship the disgusting vile mess of a 'ship' that is Violaf...I would prefer if you stop interacting with my page, my story, and any of my works. Just because I put it in my story does not mean I condone it. I am using it as a element to explain why this sort of shit is WRONG.

If we are being abundantly honest, it is these segments that I have the hardest time writing and editing. It is a long, hard process and it never gets easier. No matter how vague the comment Olaf or even Esme make is, it is never easy. It makes my blood boil, my skin crawl and my stomach churn.

I don't feel right saying 'enjoy' because this is a tough pill to swallow.

So read with caution. Let me know if you feel I went too far or if you just want to comment like normal. I am not perfect. I am open to criticism. I just needed to make sure all my readers understand where I stand on the topic of Count Olaf's creepy ass infatuation to Violet.

Read with caution. Love the support you guys have given this fic.

-Susan.

____________________________________________________

                                           Chapter Fifty:

                           The One With Violet's Close Call

Klaus and Sunny paced around the small medical closet that they were currently hiding in. They had decided to be paranoid and barricade the door on their end so no one would enter their hideout. Before doing so, Klaus opened the door just a bit so he can peek around the hall and locate the security cameras. He feared that Olaf would catch them simply because he could be watching them on security cameras. After they blocked themselves in, Sunny explained to Klaus that she planned to watch the bottom of the door and she’ll notify him if she sees anyone’s shadows.

Klaus and Sunny were worrying about being recognized by anyone because of the ridiculous lies that had been written about Violet and Klaus in The Daily Punctilio, so the two Baudelaires knew that whatever they planned to do in order to save Violet they had to make sure they were undetected by not only the hospital personnel and patients but by Olaf, Esme, and the troupe who were undoubtedly lurking around the hospital in their ridiculous doctor costumes searching for the two younger orphans.

As the children paced around in silence, both siblings’ minds were racing. “We’ve got to rescue Violet and get out of this hostile hospital,” Klaus said aloud. He was talking more so to himself than Sunny, but Sunny replied anyway.

“But how?” she asked. Klaus sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Both siblings were trying their hardest to concentrate on their situation at hand. Both trying to ignore the fear that was lingering with them. Both were also focused on what Jacques Snicket had said.

Klaus ran his hand through his hair anxiously as he thought about the Snicket file that resided in his pocket next to his sister’s father’s wallet.

There’s a survivor.

Their trouble is over.

They were going to be okay.

They just had to find their mother.

Klaus sighed. He felt a bit bad when his mind focused on the possibility of his mother being the survivor, it was nothing against his father. Truth be told if his father was the survivor, he’d be equally as happy. He just...desperately wanted his mother.

He didn’t understand if there was a survivor, why weren’t they searching for their kids? He knew that his parents would be fighting tooth and nail to reunite themselves with their children. His mother and father were two kind, attentive, supportive, and loving parents. He gave a small smile as he imagined being reunited with his mother again, being able to feel her arms around him in a big bear hug as he feels her warmth and feels safe. His smile widened as he imagined his mother kicking Olaf and Esme’s ass for everything that they had put the kids through.

Sunny paced around the small room, walking in a different pattern than Klaus. She glanced around at all the supplies that were in the room, every so often glancing at the door to make sure that no one was trying to get in the room that she and her brother were hiding in. She took the small yellow ribbon out of her hair as she carefully twisted her hair into it, tying it out of her face. What would Violet do? She asked herself as she tapped her finger on her chin as she thought hard. She glanced over at her brother, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. She took the opportunity to open Violet’s locket again, she wasn’t entirely sure what this would do, but she felt like she needed to see one of her parents’ faces especially after the bombshell that Jacques Snicket had given the children during his briefing of the Snicket file.

She looked at the picture of her mother holding baby Violet and smiled. She missed her mother entirely but as she stared at the picture in her older sister’s locket, Sunny couldn’t help but frown when she thought about her father. Staring at the picture of her mother holding a baby girl in her arms reminded Sunny so much about how their mother used to hold her and sing to her whenever she was fussy. How her mother would clap enthusiastically when Sunny used a new word. She sighed as she ran her finger over the picture of her mother. All these memories made Sunny miss her mother, but they somehow made her miss her father more. She didn’t get to see any pictures of her father as often as she would prefer. The kids had two pictures of their parents stuffed away in Klaus’ pockets along with other documents and important scraps of paper the two younger orphans had been collecting ever since their unfortunate events had begun. So when Sunny gazed down at the photos in her sister’s locket, she wondered where in her world her father could be. Was he looking for them? Was it difficult for him to locate his children because they kept moving? She remembered spending afternoons with her father, who would be entertaining her with his poetry recitals. Sometimes he’d put on a show for Sunny, act out a silly poem or if he was reciting a serious think piece, he would analyze the poem with Sunny and even though she didn’t entirely understand what her father was saying all the time, she was happy. She never understood why Klaus would groan outwardly when their father would run up behind him and somehow still lift him up, ready to recite another poem of John Godfrey Saxe. She found it both entertaining and informational. She frowned when she realized that her actively thinking her father was the survivor meant that she wasn’t rooting for her mother. Like her brother, Sunny had nothing against their mother. She would be equally as happy if it were Beatrice who had survived the fire. But Sunny couldn’t shake the fun image of her father randomly showing up and kicking Olaf and Esme’s asses after putting the kids through all of this bullshit. Sunny smirked wickedly to herself when she thought about what her father might do to Olaf when she told him about what Olaf did to Klaus.

Dada…?

Mommy?

Where are you? Your babies need you.

As both siblings thought about the survivor of the fire and wondered where in the world the survivor could be, their faces turned sour simultaneously when, like clockwork, they both thought the same exact thing.

What if Lemony was the survivor?

Both siblings were blissfully unaware that they were thinking the same thing as Sunny bit her lip nervously and Klaus sighed miserably. Both too lost in thought to ask the other what was wrong.

What if Lemony was the survivor? As the two Baudelaire orphans thought about it...it made sense, didn’t it? For the survivor to be Lemony? The file was called the Snicket File, although Klaus had reasons to believe that it could have been named that simply because the star of the film was Jacques Snicket and Sunny could have guessed that maybe the makers of the film deliberately wanted to name it that just to cause this level of confusion. But again as the two orphans thought about it...their worries began to skyrocket. Jacques was Lemony’s brother, it would make sense that he’d investigate his brother’s death rather than their parents. But that wasn’t what was gnawing at the fragile minds of Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire. What was gnawing viciously at their minds was one question.

What would happen to them if Lemony was the survivor?

Obviously, if Lemony was the survivor, this meant he would be reunited with his daughter. Both siblings sighed at the same time as they came to this realization. It was the first time that the table had turned and it was the Baudelaires feeling excluded rather than Violet. Both didn’t know what would happen to them if he were the survivor. Lemony had no obligation to Klaus or Sunny. He was not their birth father and he had not raised them.

Would he go through the trouble to adopt us? Sunny pondered.

He wouldn’t leave us to fend for ourselves? Klaus wondered.

Truth was the kids just weren’t sure. Although they had met Lemony Snicket on a few occasions, they didn’t get the pleasure in actually getting to know him, seeing that every time they had seen him, he was in disguise just as Olaf was and the situation was always too tense and dangerous where there was rarely ever a moment in time where the kids could have had a decent conversation with the man who was desperately trying to help them. Klaus remembered the brief conversation he had with Lemony back when the kids lived with Josephine and Lemony was disguised as Steve Barkin, how he mentioned having a daughter and tried to convince Klaus that he was a good big brother. But other than that, Klaus didn’t know much about him.

The Baudelaires could easily assume that Lemony would be a decent human being, as he was before he had died and he would adopt the children either officially or unofficially depending on what he sought as best with his complicated circumstances. But he didn’t have any obligation to the Baudelaire children. As much as they hoped that he would take them with him and Violet, he could just as easily take Violet and abandon the two Baudelaires. The children wouldn’t be surprised, by this point in their sad story, they were used to it.

Now they both knew that if either one of their parents was the survivor that they would take in Violet immediately. No questions asked whatsoever. But they were able to come up with that conclusion very easily because they knew their parents. They knew their parents wouldn’t hesitate to gain a relationship with their estranged daughter. Violet was Beatrice’s biological daughter and had fate not intervened, she would have been raised by Bertrand, which would have made their father her father as well. They knew their father would not hesitate to have another child even if that child was not his biologically, that’s how great of a man Bertrand Baudelaire was. The two siblings also knew that if their mother had the chance to simply lay her eyes on the powerhouse force that her eldest daughter was, she would recognize Violet immediately as her child and would rush up and grab Violet and probably never let her go as she sobbed and apologized for things out of their mother’s control. Because they both knew that their mother was a decent and amazing woman.

Both siblings imagined for a second, how life would have been like had Violet never been separated from their mother and father. Klaus could imagine all the siblings' arguments and bonding moments that he and Violet would have had had she been around. He imagined how holidays would have been and how normal days would have been. Would he and Violet be closer? Would they have grown to hate each other? He pondered to himself. He slowly smiled, he had a feeling that being raised alongside Violet would have simply made him idolize her more as a big sister. He could see his younger self rushing into her room when he was scared of the loud thunderstorms outside instead of his mother and father’s room. He could see her building them a small little fort where they could pretend that the storm couldn’t get to them because Violet had built the shelter with the full purpose of making it stormproof even if the fort was made out of the most basic of materials like blankets and pillows. He could see her wanting her to sit with him during his first optometrist appointment instead of his father. He could see her beating up schoolyard bullies for him and just doing all the things big sisters do. But as he thought about it...he didn’t give the negative aspects even a thought. He knew big sisters were supposed to relentlessly tease and annoy. He knew that they were the only ones allowed to pick on their younger siblings. He knew growing up with Violet could have been different when it came to the family dynamics. He would never have had all of his parents' undivided attention, he would have had to fight Violet for it and he had a feeling he would have lost that battle a lot. He knew that if Violet had been raised alongside him that he probably would have been compared to her a lot because that’s what parents do. But he didn’t care. He wouldn’t have minded if life turned out like that.

Sunny, on the other hand, thought about how if Violet had been raised alongside her and Klaus that Violet would have been there the day that she came home from the hospital. She would have probably been like Klaus, teaching her how to talk, read, and walk. She wondered what else Violet would have tried to teach her. Sunny smiled as she imagined how family game nights would have gone with Violet’s addition. How chaotic that would have been with the five of them duking it out over Uno or Monopoly. Sunny had a feeling if Violet had been there from the start, that she would have been able to see the treehouse that she and Klaus shared more often. Klaus wasn’t entirely fond of it because it was getting too old and he felt as though it was dangerous to be in there but she knew that Violet would have made it a special project to fix it up for Sunny.

But as the children thought about this alternate timeline, they both felt bad for taking Lemony out of the picture and it brought them back to their worries that if it was so easy for them to do to him...how easy would it have been to do for him? And as they went back to pondering about whether or not Lemony would help them if he was the survivor, the children felt a mixture of emotions.

Cause with Lemony, Klaus and Sunny wouldn’t be able to entirely blame him if he were to take Violet and leave. Hell, they wouldn’t blame Violet for giving up on them and leaving with her father if she wanted to. The Baudelaires both feared that Lemony and possibly even Violet would finally see the two orphans as far too much trouble. Which as they further thought about it, it made perfect sense as to why the kids could be described as ‘too much trouble’.

No matter what Violet tried to tell them, the siblings knew that they were the reason Lemony was dead. They were the reason that Violet got sucked into this misfortune. Even if Lemony was the one who had decided to come out of hiding with the hopes of helping them survive Count Olaf. They cost him his life and if he turned out to be alive and would rather stay clear of the danger magnets that they have been proven to be. They couldn’t...and wouldn’t fault him.  They were also the reason that his brother was now dead. And there was no mistaking that on Sunny’s part.

Sunny knew Jacques was dead, she was forced to witness it with her own two eyes. Sleeping at night was difficult these days for young Sunny Baudelaire, although whenever she was able to cuddle up with one or both of her siblings, she felt safe enough that she could sleep and she found that when she was in the warm embrace of one of her older siblings it was as if a barrier is put around her and the harmful images of Olaf murdering Jacques couldn’t enter her head and torment her.

But Klaus didn’t need to witness Jacques’ murder to know he’s dead. He saw Jacques’ dead body being rowed out. Both children shuddered as they thought about the fact that Olaf had killed possibly two men in his wicked pursuit of them and now he had their fourteen-year-old sister in his clutches.

Both felt sharp pangs of guilt as a wave of sick, cruel realization poured over them when they realized that they were the reason why Violet was kidnapped and whatever Olaf was doing to her was on them. Klaus felt this pang of guilt harder than Sunny had because he knew what Olaf’s sick intentions with Violet were and he didn’t act fast enough to convince her splitting up was the worst thing the trio could have done. He hadn’t fought her hard enough to exit the mail chute and he allowed Esme and Olaf to take one of his sisters.

Klaus felt a few sharp pings of worry hit him as he thought about his doubts. The longer it took for him to come up with a plan, the more time the kids had to get caught and even if that didn’t happen it was more time that Olaf had Violet in his clutches. Klaus knew that he couldn’t let him and Sunny get caught because he refused to make Violet’s sacrifice fruitless. He also couldn’t let them get caught for obvious reasons. He knew Olaf wasn’t going to leave the hospital without all three kids. So he and Sunny merely had to avoid getting caught in their attempt to rescue Violet.

Klaus watched as Sunny did another routine check of the door. She watched for a few moments just to be extra cautious. He gave a small smile as he watched her walk-in tiny circles, tying her own hair. Klaus had a special sense of pride as he thought about how much Sunny had grown since that day on the beach when their lives first changed for the worst. Sunny was out of her infancy and was in the beginning stages of her toddlerhood and she was surely showing it. She was walking on her own and even talking in sentences for the most part, completely able to articulate her thoughts. Even going through everything she had been through, Klaus could see Sunny growing up into a chaotic mix of both of her parents. She had the best qualities of both Beatrice and Bertrand. Hell, Sunny had her moments where she reminded Klaus so much of Violet, like right now, as Sunny paced around silently, untying and retying her hair with her small yellow ribbon. The thing that surprised him the most about Sunny was that even after failing her so many times, she still believed in him so much. He didn’t understand why though.

Klaus felt tears spring to his face. You are the absolute worst brother in the world. You can’t protect them.

He turned quickly and glanced at Sunny once more. He couldn’t help but think this way. Violet was definitely the better big sibling for Sunny. She was proving it right now by being Olaf’s captive while allowing Klaus and Sunny a chance at an escape. While Klaus was hiding inside a large closet desperately trying to figure out a plan to save Violet. Sunny had definitely surprised him when she had compared him to Violet positively. That’s something he ever really did, always feeling inferior to his older sister especially when it comes to how they both were at being an older sister. ‘You are the best big brother I could ask for’ Sunny had said when she compared him positively to Violet. Then she had told Klaus that she loved in believed in them both.

Klaus’ thoughts shifted just slightly when he also remembered what Sunny now knows. His blood boiled and he felt the desire to punch a wall angrily. How dare Olaf haunt his baby sister with the gory, gruesome details of the pain he had caused her older brother after he had desperately tried to save her back when they were still in that bastard’s ‘care’. Olaf had absolutely no right and Klaus knew he only did that to try to scare Sunny and that made him even angrier. He hated the fact that Sunny now felt guilty about it even though he did not have a single reason to blame Sunny.

Klaus turned to Sunny, sighing, finally breaking the silence.

“We have to rescue Violet before it’s too late,” he explained to Sunny.

“But we don’t know where she is,” Sunny countered, although she nodded her head in agreement.

“ Violet must be somewhere in this hospital. Otherwise, Olaf and Esme would have left by now. He and Esme are probably hoping to capture us to,”

“Then we have to find her,” Sunny replied turning to her brother. “But how?”

Klaus sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Olaf is watching us through the fucking security cameras and the rest of the hospital might recognize us from the bullshit Daily Punctilio.”

Both children looked at one another depressingly. They both wondered just how long Violet had had that photo of them hidden away in secret in her locket that now rested on Sunny’s chest. They both knew that they needed to act soon because they both did not like the idea of Violet being in Olaf’s clutches. Before either one can further the conversation they could hear an approaching crowd of cheerful singers.

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders. “Hide within crowd?” Sunny suggested as Klaus picked her up quickly.

“Better than nothing.” Klaus agreed. “We’ll just have to be extra careful today,”

Sunny nodded emphatically, a word which here means ‘as if she thought being extra careful was a good plan,’ and Klaus nodded emphatically back as he quickly unbarricaded the door, listening for the crowd to be right outside the door before exiting the room. Both Baudelaire children felt less and less emphatic about what they were doing as they waited by the door. Ever since that terrible day at the beach, when Mr. Poe brought them news of the fire, both Baudelaire orphans had been extra careful all of the time. They had been extra careful when they lived with Count Olaf, and Sunny had still ended up dangling from a cage outside Olaf’s tower room. They had been extra careful when they’d worked at Lucky Smells Lumbermill, and Klaus had still ended up hypnotized by Dr. Orwell. And now the Baudelaires had been as careful as they could possibly be, but the hospital had turned out to be as hostile an environment as anywhere the two children had ever lived. And as their hearts were beating faster and faster, they heard their opportunity to exit the small room and hide within the cheerful VFD.

“ We are Volunteers  and we’re cheerful all day long! If someone said that we were sad, that person would be wrong. Tra-la-la Fiddle-dee-dee Hope you get well soon. Ho-ho-ho,” the members of VFD sang as Klaus hurriedly opened the door and forced him and his baby sister into the direct middle of the crowd.

“Could we have some balloons?” Klaus asked.

“Of course, brother!” Brandon said patting Klaus’ shoulder. He handed Sunny two balloons and gave the children a confused look. “Where’s the older sister, brother?” he asked confused.

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another. “She’s under the weather,” Sunny explained quickly.

“I’m sorry to hear that!” Brandon said cheerfully as he tied a balloon gently to Sunny’s wrist. “Give her this heart-shaped balloon! And to get well soon!” he said smiling. “Ooh, that rhymed. We should add that to the song somehow.” he addressed the other members who were all smiling and ready to partake in the singing again.

Sunny maneuvered the balloons to cover both her face and her brother’s face as Klaus carried her trying his best to sing along to the song so that the volunteers would allow him and Sunny to stay in the group. The song and the singing were too cheerful and annoying for Klaus to truly enjoy this plan. But what better place to hide than among people who believed that no news was good news, which means they don’t read the newspaper.

To the children’s relief, the volunteers paid no attention as Klaus and Sunny glanced around desperately looking for any signs of their big sister or Olaf and his group. As they followed the group from room to room, both Baudelaires concluded that this might be the best way for them to search the hospital. Maybe Olaf had disguised their sister as a patient since he was disguised as a doctor.

The children went into several rooms, watching as the Volunteers Fighting Disease ignored real ways to help the hospital’s patients and they cheerfully sang their song oblivious to exactly how useful or helpful they were being. They saw a man with both legs in casts and a woman with both arms in bandages. They watched a member tie a balloon to the woman’s cast because she wouldn’t be able to hold it.  They watched as the group ignored the patients’ request of a glass of water and for their nurse to be called so they could receive their pain killers. Klaus and Sunny wanted to help these people but they were too afraid of whether or not the patients had read The Daily Punctilio so as the VFD members ignored their requests, the Baudelaires regretfully did, too.

“If we visit each and every room of this hospital,” Klaus whispered to Sunny as the group exited the room to go to a different room. “We’re sure to find Violet,”

“Agreed. Although seeing sick people makes me sad,” Sunny replied.

“Same here, Sunshine.”

The next room contained a man that reminded them of Mr. Poe because he had a severe, nasty cough. As they watched the volunteers sing their song and hand the man a balloon, the children believed that a good humidifier would be more effective way to fight this disease than a cheerful attitude and the two were tempted to run and find a humidifier for this sick man, but they knew Violet was in much more danger than a man with a cough and again, they couldn’t risk being recognized.

On and on the volunteers marched, and Klaus and Sunny marched with them, but with every ho ho ho and he he he their hearts sank lower and lower. The two Baudelaires followed the members of VFD up and down the staircases of the hospital, and although they saw a great number of confusing maps, intercom speakers, security cameras which they made sure to avoid looking directly into, and sick people, they did not catch a glimpse of their sister. As they entered each room, nowhere, in any of the rooms that the volunteers marched into, was Violet Snicket, who Klaus and Sunny feared, was suffering more than any other patient.

“We’ve been wandering all morning, and we’re no closer to saving our sister,” Klaus whispered to Sunny, but Sunny didn’t reply. As Klaus marched with the volunteers up another flight of stairs as he carried Sunny, Sunny had focused on something that kept her eye.

“Shh,” Sunny whispered back.

“Why?” Klaus asked in a whisper.

“Bald fucker,” Sunny whispered, pointing as stealthily as she could ahead of them. Someone coming down the stairs, he was several steps above the kids and he looked to be running down the stairs in a hurry. “And Hook-Man.”

“What do we do?” Klaus whispered worriedly, realizing that if the bald man and the Hook-Handed Man were descending down the stairs, that they would have a good viewpoint advantage on the kids.

“Kiss the balloon,” Sunny whispered back as she shoved one balloon in Klaus’ face. He shifted Sunny so that he can hold the balloon in his face while she used one of the balloons to hide her face and the third one, that Brandon had intended for Violet to cover the top of her head. She hoped that if the bald man were to look over at the Volunteers Fighting Disease he would just see the top of Klaus’ head and assume he was one person rather than two, carrying three balloons.

The children’s hearts were beating fast in their chests as they continued marching in the middle of the group of volunteers.

__________________________________________________________

Violet opened her eyes and groaned in pain. Her head was throbbing from Esme slamming it into the hospital wall. She glanced around the room to find that she had been once again tied down to the gurney. She felt tape once again around her mouth. She tried desperately to kick her feet but to her surprise, Olaf and Esme must have tied her ankles to the damn gurney, too.

Nonetheless, Violet struggled as hard as she could trying to make some kind of noise in a desperate attempt to get someone to rescue her. She didn’t have much time to struggle, though because the door to the room began to open. Her heart dropped.

“I’m just saying, Boss. Your name could use a little work,” The Hook-Handed Man explained.

“What do you mean? It’s fucking brilliant,” Olaf growled, rolling his eyes.

The Hook-Handed Man looked at him incredulously, “Really?” he asked. “Dr. Medical-School?”

“Like you could’ve come up with anything better,” Olaf muttered annoyed.

“You could’ve said literally anything else. Like...House...or Howser?”

Olaf growled again. “Watch the door,” he ordered his henchman as he turned towards Violet.

Violet’s heart sank further as she watched the Hook-Handed Man’s facial expression change almost immediately. “B-but don’t you need my hooks…to tear her to shreds?” the man asked meekly. Violet gave both men an intense glare.

“Just wait outside the door,” Olaf hissed as he watched his henchman turn around unhappily and walked outside the door. Violet glanced down at the bottom of the door to make sure that the man hadn’t entirely left, thankfully for her, she could see the shadows that his feet made as he stood in front of the door, guarding it against anyone who would try to enter.

Olaf walked menacingly towards Violet. He glared down at Violet. Violet glared back at him with daggers. She refused to show him fear or weakness so she was hoping that she looked more intimidating than she felt seeing as though Olaf most definitely had the upper hand.

Olaf reached down, grabbed the edge of the tape and pulled it off Violet’s mouth as quickly and painfully as he can. “You fucking bitch!” she hissed.

“Comfy?” he asked her, smirking at the helpless girl.

“Fuck off,” Violet hissed, still glaring at him. “Klaus and Sunny will find me.”

Olaf merely shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe they will...maybe they won’t. I mean I’m counting on it. Can’t let those brats live after causing me so much trouble.”

“You fucker,”

“But you see, if I were Klaus...I’d do the sensible thing and leave this hospital with that bucktoothed brat,”

“Well, it’s a good thing Klaus isn’t a damn thing like you, then.”

“Well, what do you expect to happen, Violet?” Olaf asked as he began to pet her hair. Violet moved her head vigorously, trying to move away from his touch. “I mean...if I had the option to save my real sister or some desperate little girl who just wants to belong...I’d save my sister.”

Violet’s glare intensified. “I am their real sister, you fucking piece of shit.” she hissed as he smiled down at her. The way that he was looking at her, made the pit of fear in her stomach grow.

Olaf rolled his eyes as he grabbed the edge of the gurney harshly. Causing Violet to flinch. He smiled at her reaction. She responded just how he wanted her to. “You know, Violet, it doesn’t have to end this way…” he muses slowly walking around the gurney. Violet tried her hardest to keep her eyes glued on him, to make sure she could see him at every second. But as he circled her like a shark circling its prey, she was feeling dizzy. “I see the way you roll your eyes at the mere mention of VFD.”

Violet shifted her gaze to where he had stopped moving. He was standing behind her head, she glanced up at him, still glaring but behind her eyes, she knew that fear was starting to show. She had no idea what he had planned. “I may hate VFD. But I despise you!” she hisses.

“I’m flattered,” he says as he caresses her cheek. She shudders under his touch. She whimpers softly, violently trying to move her arms and legs, to break her restraints but as Olaf watches her struggle, his smirk widens and her heart sinks further into her chest which Violet didn’t know it was possible. “But you don’t mean that…”

“Oh, believe me, I do!”

Olaf smirk widened. “You know...it’s not just VFD that is to blame for what you’re going through…”

“I know it’s…” Violet began before Olaf interrupted her.

“Your dear father...may he rest in ashes.” Olaf snarled leaning closer to Violet’s ear. Causing the girl to shrink to the farther side of the gurney as much as her restraints would allow.

“ Fuck you!” she screeches as she continues to struggle more.

“And...Beatrice…” Olaf added, he watched as Violet’s face turned from one of unbridled anger to pure sadness. ‘You know…” he began, his voice becoming gentler but not in a comforting way. His voice became patronizing and belittling, but softer in volume. He walked over to the side of the gurney once more, kneeling down so that he no longer towered Violet but he was nearly face to face with her which made her move her head as far away from him as she could. “Beatrice hurt me, too. You’re not the only person that she hurt.”

Violet couldn’t believe her ears, was Olaf truly trying to pin her misfortune on her birth mother. Was he trying desperately to shift the blame from himself and VFD to her parents? She continued to glare at him as he sighed. He caressed Violet’s cheek again.

“Since you’re such a pretty girl…” he explained. “I’m willing to give you a chance to join me, Violet.” He watched as her expression changed to one that he couldn’t read. He couldn’t tell if she was considering it or was entirely shocked by his mere suggestion. “Together...we could destroy VFD once and for all. All you’d have to do is two simple things... for me.”

Violet’s stomach churned uncomfortably as she grimaced. She didn’t know what he meant by that last part but as they say, curiosity killed the cat. She looked up at Olaf, her glare still present but her fear was coming through so it wasn’t as intense as it had been. Olaf took that as a sign of her already considering his offer before even hearing what she’d have to do.

Olaf continued to caress her cheek as he spoke, Violet tried her damnedest to move her face from his touch but he, unfortunately, had the advantage. “Would it be so awful?” he asked. She looked at him with a face full of confusion and discomfort. “Would it be so awful to spend the rest of your life...with me? In my troupe...at my side...at my beck and call? I’ve seen your inventions, you could be very useful to my troupe, unlike those pesky Baudelaires.” He leaned in close to her. “Think about it, my pet,” he whispered into her ear as he stroked her cheek. Her skin felt like it was crawling and her blood was boiling but she was beginning to feel paralyzed under his cruel touch. “We could burn down this organization together!”

“...keep...talking…” she replied meekly, narrowing her eyes. She wasn’t sure where he was going with this. But at this point, she’d do almost anything to help her siblings escape from Olaf’s treachery.

“When you’re of age, you give me your fortune,” He began. “You see, once I have your fortune...I wouldn’t dispose of you like I would that irritating bookworm and biting brat.”

She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized he was still more interested in her stupid fucking money than what she had been expecting for him to say. Although the second part of that statement was one that she didn’t really like. She would rather an option where Olaf didn’t dispose of Klaus and Sunny. But when Violet weighed her options on the financial part of his offer, there was barely any hesitation. It was just money. Who the fuck cares? She thought. The only thing I care about right now is my siblings.  But as she opened her mouth to respond, she remembered he had said there were two things he needed her to do for him. Fear came crashing in once more as she began to expect the worst.

“And...what else?”

“You help me lure those bratty Baudelaires so I can destroy them.” He replied smiling wickedly at her.

Still surprised by his answer, since that was not where she believed he was going with this conversation. She took the time to weigh her options. She took into account everything that Olaf had said up to this point. Since the day that Violet had the absolute misfortune of meeting this vile and terrible man.

Finally, Violet smiled and in the most enthusiastic voice she could muster up she said, “Of course, I’ll join you!”

Olaf smiled at this. He placed his hand under her chin, turning her face to make her face him. “Pretty and smart,” Violet responded with another rough shudder as she tried to move her chin from his grasp. But he held her firmly. “Now...all you have to do is tell me where those brats are hiding.”

Violet nodded and he let go of her chin. “Of course, I’ll tell you where they’re hiding!” Violet replies using the same over-the-top voice. “Now, when you capture them you can’t tell them that I told you.”

“Of course. Of course.” He replied, a Grinch-like smile appearing across his face. This was too easy. He thought. She did her best to motion for him to come closer so that she could whisper her siblings' location in his ear. His smile somehow got wider and far creepier as he began to move closer to her.

“Now listen carefully,” Violet replied as Olaf could no longer contain his excitement. He was soon going to have all three orphans to torture and do whatever the fuck he wanted to and what made this even better is that Violet was going to sell out her siblings and hand them to him on a silver platter.

As he got closer to her face, Violet gave the vile man, a quick, sarcastic smile as she spits directly in his face. “ Snickets take care of their own!” she screamed in his ear as loud as she could.

Olaf growled, a loud, inhumane growl as he slapped her across the face with as much strength as he could muster. “ You little bitch!” he screamed as her head shot to the side harshly. One cheek feeling the wrath of Olaf’s anger and the other feeling the pressure of being slammed against the side of the gurney. Tears began to fall from her eyes as she winced in pain. She could feel her right cheek was on fire. Olaf wiped her saliva from his face as he grabbed Violet’s face in his hand and roughly pushed her cheeks in, applying pressure to her jaw. She groaned in pain.

“Stop…” she whimpers.

“Snickets may take care of their own...but Baudelaires are known for betraying and abandoning their own…” he said, applying even more pressure to her face. She tried to pull her head from his grasp. “And I have this feeling that the bookworm is just like his mother in that respect.”

Violet tried to spit at him again. “ Fuck you! You motherfucker!”

Olaf growled once more as he slapped her again, with the same level of strength as before even if this time she was unsuccessful when she tried to spit in his face. She started to cry. She bit her lip to suppress her sobs but the effort was almost pointless when her eyes began to water. Her cheek was definitely on fire now and she was beginning to feel her fear of her situation take over. She watched as Olaf turned and walked over to a small sink that was in the room. He picked up a tray full of medical tools and began to examine the tools.

“Out of curiosity,” Olaf asked, back turned towards a vulnerable and terrified Violet. “Has the bookworm shown you what I’m capable of?”

“You mean how you cut him, you fucking bastard!” she hissed. “Sunny told me.”

Olaf chuckled at that, as he lifted a rather scary looking knife as he examined it thoroughly. Still not even looking at her. “You see, I could do the same thing to you, my darling,” he turned to her as he carried the tray and the scary knife with him back towards her. He placed the tray of tools on top of her. “But...you’re way too pretty for that,” he explains petting her hair once more.

“I’m not your darling, you sick fuck.” she hisses through the tears, fear, and pain. “Klaus and Sunny are going to find me. We’ve outsmarted you every fucking time. We will do it again.”

Olaf grinned as he waved the big, sharp knife around, stroking his finger carefully across it, smiling wickedly at it. “I don’t think you will outsmart me...no, not this time.” he hisses menacingly as he glared down at the helpless girl. Violet glared back at him, her fear being suppressed once more as she continually reminded herself why she had to survive this. “Have you ever hunted, Violet?”

“Of course not,” she spat back.

“Well…” he said as he put down the large knife on the tray. “If you had, you’d be familiar with a particular experience. There’s a particular moment, at the end of a long hunt, ” he explained coldly as he picked up a rather scary drill. Violet, being only fourteen and never going to med-school wasn’t completely certain what this device in Olaf’s hand was but if she had to guess it was probably to drill small holes in the skull to help neurosurgeons perform their operations. As he spoke, he used a tone that sent several chills down her spine causing her to shift uncomfortably and breathe heavily. “When you have the animal cornered. And the animal looks into your eyes... deep into them, to see if there’s any mercy in there.” She looked at the device with uncertainty and fear as Olaf turned it on. The man looked from her to the drill, smiling as he imagined using it on one of the children. “And when it sees that there is not…” he turned the drill off and smiled at it happily. “... it gives up...it gives it life to you. ”

He smiled wickedly at her as he placed the drill back on the tray that still laid on top of her. She could no longer help it, she was trembling as he spoke. He stroked her now severely bruised cheek as she felt tears springing in her eyes. “Well, I have you cornered, Violet, and I have no mercy .”

Tears began to fall from Violet’s eyes as her fear took over. Is this how Klaus feels like? She wondered as she tried her best to hold it in. But this was all too much. His tone, his words, his touch. She couldn’t take it anymore.

He smiled viciously as he wiped a tear from her bruised cheek. “Don’t cry…” he cooed. “Sooner or later the Baudelaires will fall into my trap and when they do…”

Violet’s tear-filled eyes glared at the villain as he mentioned her siblings again. She shook her head defiantly, unable to speak because she was using most of her energy trying to hold back her tears. He gripped the railing to the gurney harshly as he knelt closer to her menacingly. He got in her face as close as he could get, even after she had shrunk herself down as far as her head would sink into the single pillow that held her head up. She grimaced and winced at how extremely uncomfortable she felt with Olaf that close to her face. She wanted to spit in his face again but the intense heat she could still feel from her right cheek convinced her otherwise. Instead, she stared back at Olaf with a face full of mainly fear with a splash of anger and defiance. “And when they do…” he reiterated getting even closer to her face. Violet held her breath as he spoke due to how close he was to her. She could smell his rancid breath. She tried to turn her head so she didn’t have to look at him but he caught her throat with his hand and applied pressure to keep her head in place. “I won’t be satisfied with just your fortunes. This time, I will obliterate you and the entire Baudelaire line in the cruelest ways imaginable…” he hissed into her ear as he held her down. Her breathing became rapid and her fear spiked entirely. “Now won’t that be fun?!” he asked her in a patronizing tone as he gave her an open-mouthed grin, showing off his disgustingly dirty teeth.

Violet’s breathing became heavy as she gasped for air the moment he lifted his face even an inch away from hers. By the look on Olaf’s face, Violet knew that he knew that he was terrifying her.

“...l-leave them alone!” she cried struggling as Olaf removed his hand from her throat. “You have me!” she reasoned, her voice thick with fear. “I can get you both fortunes! Just leave Klaus and Sunny alone!”

He snickered. “I do have you…” he said smiling. “And what a treat that is,”

Violet trembled and began to struggle when she felt Olaf’s hand on her lower leg. She shifted uncomfortably. He grins at her, again, his hand trailing up to her knee agonizingly slow. Violet jerked her leg again. Fear creeping slowly into her eyes, paralyzing her to her core. She felt frozen as she felt his hand stroke her knee. Her heart was beating rapidly as she started screaming for help as Olaf clapped his hand over her mouth. She desperately tried to bite his hand as she tried to break free from her restraints. She looked around the room desperately, her eyes locking on the door. She prayed that someone, anyone, would walk in here soon and stop him before he was to do anything too heinous. He seemed to revel in her fear, probably because he rarely got to see it.

Olaf smirked again when he could see her face full of fear as she unknowingly was looking at him trying to look into his eyes for an ounce of mercy or humanity just as he described in his little speech that was designed to scare her. His smirk widened when he remembered the same look on Klaus’ face back when he first traumatized the young orphan.

He kept his hand at her knee, which was a small relief to Violet but she knew it was not because he had any mercy or humanity, it was merely because he was getting a kick out of her trembling in fear that he wanted to prolong it for as long as he could to further torment the poor girl. And why wouldn’t he? He believed he had all the time in the world. He had his favorite little orphan captured and in his clutches unable to escape or save herself and he severely doubted that Klaus was going to attempt another rescue mission after his first one had ended in his own pain, misery, and blood being spilled. Olaf believed that even if Klaus was brave enough to try to rescue Violet, he would fail miserably and then he would have all three children in his clutches. His to torture in any way that he seemed fit.

He glanced up at the terrified Violet, who looked from him to his hand attentively. Only staring at one or the other for a few seconds before shifting her eyes. She closed her eyes and pushed her head against the gurney as if she were ready to give in. She sighed heavily and as she did, Olaf and even Violet, herself, could hear the tremble in her voice. “...don’t...please don’t hurt them…” she cried, tears once again flowing.

He once again reveled and rejoiced in her misery and fear as he used his free hand to wipe her tears from her eyes again. “Didn’t we talk about crying?” he asked in a tone that was softer than his threats but was far scarier. “ Pretty little orphans shouldn’t cry…”

She jerked her head once more. She felt sick to her stomach with each second that passed by. She stared at the door, pleading within her mind for someone to barge in and stop him before he went too far.

“I mean...I could just keep you...and let them live,” he mused. She groaned depressingly simply because of the way he said it. It didn’t sound like he was contemplating her idea, it sounded like he was planning to use it against her. “But...you’d have to do something for me first,” he explained as he began to lift his grip from her knee. Violet shuddered violently, understanding fully well what he had been implying.

Violet’s eyes widened. “Stop fucking touching me! ” she cried through her sobs, desperately pulling at her wrists and ankles. She needed the restraints to loosen but unfortunately for her, it didn’t seem to be happening.

Olaf smirked down at her as he lifted the large knife. Violet couldn’t tell if the knife was, yet another, scare tactic or if this was really what he was going to do. Merely cut her up. She didn’t know exactly how to feel about that. She stared at the large knife, her breathing becomes rapid.

 No. She told herself as she felt herself shake. He wouldn’t do that to you. He said it himself. You’re too pretty for that.

She involuntarily gagged at her thoughts. On second thought, I’d prefer if he cut me like he did Klaus.  

She looked at the knife fearfully when he set it on her leg, applying slight pressure to it. She froze under his touch, too afraid to continue to struggle because she didn’t want to cut herself. “Oh, Violet.. .I will touch whatever I want. ”

Violet shuddered at both the tone that he used to say that and the double meaning she knew that the statement had. He stroked the knife against her knee with one hand as he lifted his other hand, keeping it above her thigh. Violet had a feeling she knew now why Olaf had wanted her in the hospital gown. As his hand hovered over her thigh, she pulled at her wrists violently ignoring the sharp pain that was affecting her wrists.

“ No,” she cried. She glanced at the door, practically begging with her eyes for the Hook-Handed Man or anyone else to open the door now! As Violet continued to struggle against her restraints, she decided that she’d rather not see what was to happen next. She closed her eyes tight as the door swung open.

“Boss! Boss! Come quick!” The Hook-Handed Man cried urgently.

Olaf groaned loudly as he dropped the large knife on the tray filled with medical tools that still laid on top of Violet. “Can’t you see that I’m busy with my pet?” he asked stroking Violet’s hair.

Violet whimpered and tried to move her head as she watched the henchman slightly shudder.

“This better be important!” Olaf hissed, turning his body and attention towards his henchman, glaring at him. Violet took this opportunity to lift up her head and quickly scan the tray of tools looking for something sharp to cut her restraints. She glanced around at all the big tools knowing full well that she couldn’t take one of those because she needed to be conspicuous. Her eyes locked on a scalpel that was laying at the edge of the tray. She quickly glanced up at Olaf, who was still distracted by his henchman and she quietly reached for the scalpel. She looked up at the henchman to see if he was watching her, but he seemed to be focused on something else. She carefully took the scalpel from the tray and cautiously hid it under her body.

“We just found the other brats!” The Hook-Handed Man reported.

“What?!” Olaf cried excitedly, his eyes widening and shining with pure happiness.

Violet’s eyes widened for an entirely different reason. “ NO!” she screamed. Her struggling became a bit harsher as she groaned and winced from the pain that was going through her wrists. “ Please!”

“The others are in pursuit right now,” he explained. “But we need your help catching them, sir.”

Olaf groaned. “Where’s Esme?” he asked. “She caught this pretty little thing for me...why can’t she catch the other two?”

“She’s busy doing her own thing,” the henchman replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Must I do everything myself?” he asks as he glares at his henchman.

Olaf growls knowing damn well that that meant Esme was more focused on getting her damn sugar bowl than getting him the remaining two orphans. That would explain why she hadn’t followed him into Violet’s room. Olaf turned from his henchperson back to Violet. He placed a cold hand on her bruised cheek. “Maybe our fun should wait until I have those pesky Baudelaires.” he hissed as he caressed her cheek. She shudders under his touch, he could hear her whimpers.

“ Please! Leave them alone!” Violet pleads, choking on her tears. “ They’re all I have!”  She began to harshly pull at her restraints careful not to move too much where the scalpel could be seen or where she’d accidentally bump it off her gurney. She grunted and groaned in pain as she twisted her wrists and ankles this way and that.

Olaf smirked widens as he watches her. He takes the tray from where it laid on top of her and placed it back on the counter that was far from where her gurney was parked.

He turned to her and viciously hissed, “Oh, Violet. You have nothing.” he lifted up the big knife as he examined it again. He turned to his henchman. “Do you think this is sharper than your hooks?”

The man shrugged in response. “Actually, the duller the weapon the better. The more pressure that needs to be applied." Olaf muttered to himself loud enough for Violet to hear. “Hmmmm...maybe we can use this drill on the little baby,” he said lifting up the drill and turning it on once more. "What do you think, pet?"

This time the sound it produced made Violet’s ears and heart ache. She didn’t care imagining it being used on her but to be used on Sunny...she couldn’t bear it.

“ Please! You have me! You don’t need to harm them anymore!”

He walks back to her as he glances down at her. “Don’t worry, pet, I’ll allow you to see them one last time. ” The words hit Violet to her core as her heart was beating too fast. She tried to look into Olaf’s viciously shiny eyes for mercy but he was right, there was absolutely none especially when it came to her siblings. “I mean, how else could you witness their demise?”

“ Olaf! Please! No!” She cries. Her tone a mix of anger and desperation.

Olaf pats her on the head. “A fake doctor’s work is never done.” he shrugged his shoulders as he began to walk out. “Oh, and I wouldn’t bother screaming...in a hospital...screams are perfectly normal. Am I right?” He gestured around as if to tell Violet that no one had come to her rescue and the only reason he was leaving her right now was to go catch her siblings. “It seems like your self-sacrifice was for nothing. You just made them easier targets to catch.”

“ You listen to me you piece of fucking dog shit! Don’t you dare touch Klaus or Sunny!” Violet cried desperately. Her anger taking the forefront of her mindset. “ When I get out of these restraints, I will make you pay for everything you’ve done to them! And everything you try to do to them!”

He laughed at Violet’s threats as he walked back towards the door to follow his henchman, he stopped at the tray and lifted the big, sharp knife once more. “On second thought, this will be perfect for subduing those brats. They’ll both be shaking to their cores at the mere sight of this and then we’ll snatch them,” he explained cruelly to Violet. “Let’s go, Hooky.”

“ No...no...you can’t! Please!” She struggled violently. Her desperation and anger were fighting for the forefront of her mind. “ If you harm them...I will fucking kill you! You hear me! I will end you so quickly if you even dare touch even a hair on either one of their heads!”

Olaf put his hand up in the air and waved at Violet tauntingly. “ I’m so scared.” He mocked as he began to laugh maniacally. “ Don’t worry, my pretty little pet, I’ll be right back.”

Before she could respond, he closed the door behind him and his henchman.

“ No!” she shrieked. “ You don’t need them! You have me!”

But she didn’t get a response...not a single response. Her fear had her paralyzed. She had just had a really close call with Olaf and now the only reason she was relatively safer than she was just mere moments ago was that Olaf had left to chase after her siblings, who have apparently been spotted in the hospital. Violet knew she had to get to her siblings before Olaf and his troupe could. So as she reached her fingers to the scalpel that she had stolen from Olaf, she maneuvered the tool at the perfect angle and with her right hand, she began to desperately cut at her restraints. Glancing at the door, looking for anyone’s approaching shadows. She only hoped that everyone in Olaf’s troupe was focused on literally chasing down Klaus and Sunny only because she knew that if everyone was focused on them that means no one was paying her any attention whatsoever and that’s exactly the kind of distraction she needed to escape from Olaf’s clutches.

As she cut through her first restraint, Violet knew she had to find Klaus and Sunny before Olaf could.

[aire101]

Ferrum Chapter 2

Here’s chapter two, and my apologies for how closely part of it follows Episode 1 of SAO.  After this the story probably won’t follow much of the shown canon at all, though I will probably bring in SAO characters for the boys to interact with eventually.  But in SAO everyone has the same starting point.  But with the world being as complex as it is, I doubt I’ll ever really need to follow episode events or dialogue this closely again.  Though I might get the boys involved in the Level 1 boss battle, we’ll see.

Also, please excuse any incorrect computer/programming/gaming jargon.  I’m doing the best I can. T_T

------------------

Peter was a masochist.  That was really the only explanation for his current situation.  The person had even offered to go their own way before Peter had opened his big mouth and tied them together for the next few hours.

Peter knew it wasn’t really Mr. Stark, he did.  But the avatar looked exactly like the Tony Stark that Peter remembered— before the space starvation and the new stress lines of living in a post-apocalyptic earth.  And he sounded just like him.  He had the same weird humor that fluctuated wildly between arrogance and self-deprecation.  He got Peter’s stupid science jokes and the laugh he gave when Peter growled out “FINISH HIM” during a fight with a boar was painfully familiar.  Several times he had to stop himself from calling out the wrong name, and each time left him feeling like he was repeatedly prodding a gaping chasm of a wound.

“You ok, Ki— uh, sorry… Tor?”

And then there was that.  All in all, it was a perfect recipe for emotional disaster.

“Yeah, sorry… my mind wandered off a bit there.”

“In the middle of a pvp and monster spawn zone might not be the best place for that you know.  How does this game even handle respawns?” asked Ferrum, striking down another boar with a swift horizontal strike.  It taken a bit of trial and error for them to get the hang of activating the sword skills, but once it had clicked they had made quick work of the low level spawns in the area.

“You know, for someone who managed to snag a limited release of this game you know surprisingly little about it,” responded Peter.

“Yes, I known, I’m an enigma.  Humor me and explain please.”

“We’re supposed to respawn in the nearest town I think.  Given the bugs we’ve seen so far though I’m not sure I’d want to test that at the moment.  Might be one way to initiate a logout though?” said Peter.

“I’d rather not risk it, and I’d suggest you do the same until we hear from an actual GM,” said Ferrum, sheathing his sword.  “That being said, we’ve been out here several hours now, wanna head back into town and see if anyone has heard anything?”

“Sure,” said Peter, also putting away his weapon.  They stood in the middle of a clearing with expansive views.  Most of the beasts in this area hadn’t been ones to initiate conflict, and they would have plenty of forewarning if anything headed in their direction.  So for a moment Peter allowed himself to just relax and take a proper look around the area, marveling at the beauty and complexity of the world Argus had built.  Off in the distance he could see hills disappear into the haze of the the horizon and cities raised atop impossible pillars.  In a field not too far from them there were a couple other players likewise looking out, taking in the beauty of the glistening waterfalls and towns painted in oranges and reds as sunset came over Aincrad.  

“I have to give them credit.  When I first heard about their plans for this game I was a bit dubious on whether they would actually be able to deliver on the promise.  Concept art looks great, but actually being able to code a full sensory experience into an application?  And create an entire open world with that data?  I mean, I had thought about the concept before, but the technology needed to do it always made me a bit uneasy…  It would be way to easy for someone to use it in ways it shouldn’t be,” said Ferrum.

“What changed your mind then? I mean, since you’re here now?” asked Peter.

“…I don’t know,” muttered Ferrum, sounding distinctly unsettled with the admission.

Peter opened his mouth with a joke on the tip of his tongue, something to lighten the suddenly uneasy mood—

When the deep toll of a bell rang out from the Town of Beginnings, rolling through the air with the tone of a death knell.

“Huh, wonder if they’re finally about to make an announcement?” said Peter.  “I’m surprised it took so—”

Suddenly a white light enveloped him.  In those seconds he felt nothing, completely stripped of sensory.  Just as he felt himself starting to panic, the light released him and was gone as quickly as it had came.  He found himself and Ferrum once again standing in the center of the plaza of the Town of Beginnings.  All around them seemingly every one of the 10,000 players were similarly being teleported into the square.  

“What the hell?” said Ferrum.

“I don’t know.  Pretty sure they should be able to make announcements across the whole game regardless of player location.  Maybe its an opening event?  Would explain the theatrics of it,” said Peter.

The whole square was a buzz with nervous confusion as people tried to figure out what was going on, then Peter heard someone call out above the crowd, “Up there!”

Peter looked up, and above the square there flashed a single red polygon with the word WARNING.

The sky turned red as more and more polygons spawned proclaiming ‘WARNING’ and ‘SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT.’

Peter wanted to think that maybe they had found the bug.  Maybe they were announcing a fix or instructions for the players…

But even without his spidey sense, something felt wrong.

Then the sky began to bleed.

“What is that?” asked a player to the side in horrified awe as the blood-like liquid began to coalesce into a more solid state.  Within moments it formed into a hooded figure wearing familiar blood red robes with gold trim.

A Game Master— likely an a real one this time.

The crowd of players all began to mutter speculations about the figure or the possibility of an event.

“I have bad feeling about all this.”

Peter jumped.  He had forgotten about Ferrum at his side.  He looked over at the older looking man, taking in the tight lines around his mouth, his eyes darting around the area taking everything in, but not straying too long way from the god-like figure of the GM in front of them.

Peter wished he could reassure the man like he had earlier in the day, but Peter was suddenly very aware that in this world he was no different than anyone else.  Just as vulnerable, just as powerless… What had originally been a main draw for him was now a very real weakness.  

“It would be way to easy for someone to use it in ways it shouldn’t be…”

They were absolutely at the mercy of this monolithic system…

“Attention Players… Welcome to my world.  My name is Kayaba Akihiko.  As of this moment, I am the sole person who can control this world.”

And whoever controlled it.

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Ferrum, a look of horror on his face.

“I’m sure you’ve already noticed that the logout button is missing from the main menu,” Kayaba continued.  “But this is not a defect in the game.”

A shiver traveled up Peter’s spine.  A stone of cold fear formed in his stomach.  Surely not… surely someone along the way would have noticed something so horrendous in the code…

“I repeat— this is not a defect in the game.  It is a feature of Sword Art Online.”

“But how… how can he keep us here?  Surely someone on the outside can still get us out?” asked Peter.

“It’s the hardware, Kid.  He’s fucked with the user client hardware that everyone’s brains are wired into,” growled Ferrum.

“You cannot log out of SAO yourselves.  And no one on the outside can shut down or remove the NerveGear.  Should this be attempted, the transmitter inside the NerveGear will emit a powerful microwave, destroying your brain and thus ending your life,” said Kayaba.

Immediately Peter ran through all the specs on the hardware he was privy to during his time as Tony’s intern, and came to the same conclusion Ferrum already had— this mad man was not lying.  He had disabled the safety mechanism that would keep certain powerful data bursts from frying someone’s brain.

Data bursts such as an autosave or a death respawn.

“Unfortunately, several players’ friends and families have ignored this warning, and have attempted to remove the NerveGear.  As a result, two hundred and thirteen players are gone forever, from both Aincrad and the real world.”

“Two hundred and thirteen…”

Peter turned around to see Ferrum looking on with eyes wide, his right hand grasping his left wrist as his left hand gave small spasms.  

That motion was intimately familiar.  The similarity  was uncanny…

“As you can see, news organizations across the world are reporting all of this, including the deaths.” Multiple program windows opened, most featuring various news channels running live, corroborating what Kayaba was explaining.    “Thus, you can assume that the danger of a NerveGear being removed is now minimal.  I hope you will relax and attempt to clear the game.

But I want you to remember this clearly.  There is no longer any method to revive someone within the game.  If your HP drops to zero, your avatar will be forever lost.  And simultaneously, the NerveGear will destroy your brain.”

So he was right— it was both the autosave and respawn functions that had been weaponized in the headset.  The more he thought about it, the more angry he became.  The man had taken glorious innovations in technology—some of it pioneered by Mr. Stark himself—and twisted it into a personal hell for all these people, some of them undoubtedly children.  As if the world hadn’t been dealing with enough tragedy over the last few years.  He wanted nothing more than to punch Kayaba directly in the face with every pound of his spider strength.

But he couldn’t do that.  In this world, he was just like everyone else.

With great power comes great responsibility… but without that power, was that responsibility still his?

“There is only one means of escape.  To complete the game,” Kayaba said, bringing up a digital layout of the floors of Aincrad.  “You are presently on the lowest floor of Aincrad, Floor 1.  If you make your way through the dungeon and defeat the Floor Boss, you may advance to the next level.  Defeat the final boss on Floor 100, and you will clear the game.”

The crowd, which up till now had been mostly muted in shock, finally began to shout and rumble in confusion and denial.  And from the sound of things, this monologue was just about to wrap up.  When it did, all hell was going to break loose.

He had some choices to make, and fast.

“Finally, I’ve added a present from me to your item storage.  Please see for yourselves.”

Shit.  What now?

Peter swiped down to access his storage, feeling distinctly as if he were walking into a trap.  Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ferrum doing so as well.

An item labeled ‘Mirror’ had been placed in his inventory.

“I’m guessing this mirror is the ‘gift,’ though now I’m wondering if he programmed the auto-drop or did it himself, and if he’s aware of my… status,” whispered Ferrum.

That’s right.  Ferrum was a GM, however that had happened.

“Do you think you could—”

But he didn’t get to finish his question, as at that moment everyone in the plaza began to shout as they were all consumed once again by white light.

When it receded, everyone had changed.

Some looked younger, most looked older.  Quite a few people around him looked to have changed genders completely.  Peter glanced back down at the mirror in his to see his Thor-like appearance gone completely, and instead his true face reflected back at him.  

So that was the purpose of the all too thorough calibration he and Ned had gone through.

“Kid,” said a shocked voice at his side.  

Peter turned around towards Ferrum, wondering who had been behind the meticulous avatar of Mr. Stark…

Only to see that Ferrum was completely unchanged.  Perhaps being a GM had made him impervious to the magic of the mirror?

“Underoos… what are you doing here, kid?!”

With those heartbroken words, Peter’s carefully constructed walls came crashing down.

. . . . .

Peter couldn’t think.  He certainly couldn’t speak.

He could vaguely tell that Kayaba had continued with his closing speech, but he couldn’t tell you what he had said.

All he could process was Mr. Stark’s face in front of him, and the name that only he had ever uttered to him.

It was impossible.  He had seen the body—the horrific scorching where the universal energies had burned through him, the life support system shutting off, the brightness leaving behind a cold husk in a metal suit—

Peter’s whole body flinched when he felt that familiar hand rest on his shoulder.

“Kid!  Are you with me?  We need to get out of here.”

In the time Peter had spaced out Kayaba had disappeared, and now the whole crowd was devolving into a panic.  People were screaming in terror and rage, several had broken down into sobbing messes on the ground.

He wanted to do something— anything to make this better.  Tell people that it was ok, they would figure this out.

But more than that, he wanted someone else to tell him that as well.

Finally he brought himself to focus on what Mr. Stark was saying.

“What do you mean we have to go— where else is there to go?” asked Peter.  “We can’t leave the game, we’ve tried—”

“Not the game, we need to get out of town.”

“What— why—”

“We can talk more later, follow me,” Mr. Stark said before running down a nearby alley.

After a few minutes they stopped, and Mr. Stark started flicking through his user interface.

“This is a fantasy RPG… you can’t tell me there are no helmets…”

After scrolling for a while, he tapped an item on the list and spawned a basic metal helmet and quickly placed it on is head, before continuing to run out of town.

“Mr. Stark!  Wait!” cried Peter.

“Don’t shout that kid, otherwise the helmet is pointless!” Mr. Stark called back.

“Ferrum… why are we heading out of town?  Its about to be dark and the only safe zone we know is here!” shouted Peter.

“The people back there are panicking, Peter.  It won’t be much longer before they start turning on each other, looking for someone to take it out on.  Between my face and the fact that some saw me in GM robes earlier I don’t want to chance hanging around for someone to put the pieces together.  Not to mention this area’s resources are going to be swamped before we know it.  Resource management is built in to the Cardinal system to maintain balance and encourage player movement and activity.  There won’t be enough to go around.”

“But if we die on the road the resources we need won’t really matter!” yelled Peter, pulling to a stop.  “There’s only so much they can do to us in town, it’s a No PVP area.  Lets just find an inn on the outskirts of town and spend the night.  We need a better plan than just running out of the safe zone at twilight.”

Mr. Stark had pulled to a stop when Peter had, obviously unwilling to leave him behind.  He looked down the alley, obviously wanting to continue on, but after a moment his shoulders dropped in an obvious show of concession.

“Fine, lets go to the outer ring and find a place,” said Mr. Stark.

As he turned and started walking away, Peter allowed himself a moment to take in the familiar gait, the way Mr. Stark always walked with his back straight and his head held high, as if he were always prepared to walk onto a red carpet, even in his most destroyed workshop clothes.

He could recognize every familiar mannerism from their hours pouring over suit tech and web formulas.  In retrospect, perhaps that as much as his face was why he had latched onto the man to begin with.  

But the billion dollar question still remained… how?

Hopefully once they found a room to bunk in, he could work out what the hell was going on… preferably before he had a complete emotional breakdown.

[lordofthebigtimesupernatural]

Would you write Keith getting home really drunk after a party and shiro taking care of him while he's hungover? Thank you and have a good day!

What an experience for Keith. Not typical of him, but this was still highly amusing to write! I do hope you enjoy it and have another laugh (I have some angst prompts but I’ll give you all a break for now, so enjoy this fun!) today. Thanks for the prompt nonny and enjoy!

x.V.x

              “I don’t know Lance,” Keith said softly, leaning back on his couch. Next to him was Lance, one of his three best friends since he was four-years-old. Lance was certainly the most hyper and active within the group of friends. He was always coming up with new and exciting adventures for the group to do. Sometimes they were fun and sometimes, they were a disaster.

              This one felt like a disaster to Lance.

              “Keith, man, come on,” Lance moaned before draping himself over Keith and Hunk. The two looked at one another for a split second before they simultaneously shoved Lance off of them and onto the floor. Lance flopped ungracefully onto the hard floor, shouting and pouting the whole time.

              “Rude!” Lance snapped but didn’t take a seat on their laps again. Keith smirked, leaning up against Hunk while Pidge snickered at Lance’s fall. “I’m just trying to make the most of your time! I mean, you’ve been back from the army for six months now, for good and we can celebrate! You weren’t around much right after you turned 21, so we gotta take you out to some bars as if you were twenty-one and not twenty-three again!”

              “But do you honestly think bars are my thing?” Keith asked dryly.

              “Why wouldn’t they?” Lance merely shrugged, causing Pidge to snort out loud. Lance turned to Pidge in order to give them his most offended look ever, only for Pidge to completely ignore him.

              “First off, bars are loud,” Pidge pointed out on one finger. Keith saluted in agreement. “There are way too many people at bars. And they’re all drunk. That definitely sounds like Keith’s explanation of fun.”

              “Thank you Pidge.” The twenty-three-year-old Keith smiled at Pidge. Pidge returned the smile with a finger salute before going back to the book they were reading. Besides Keith, acting as a nice and warm pillow for Keith, Hunk nodded along with him.

              “Come on! You guys are always killing my buzz.” Lance practically moaned.

              “Your buzz could use a bit of killing,” Keith muttered under his breath. He earned a sharp glare from Keith to which he ignored.

              “Pidge. Hunk. Why can’t you be on my side?” Lance sighed dramatically. Pidge simply rolled their eyes and Hunk shrugged sheepishly. “Look, we’ve all seen each other before. You both have helped me out of bars several times before. It took Shiro, Pidge and I to get drunk Hunk home, and Pidge you were totally drunk every Christmas party we threw!”

              “Hey! That’s classified information.” Pidge shouted suddenly. Lance smirked and stuck his tongue out like a child would.

              “My point is, we’ve all seen each other drunk, hell, we’ve even seen Shiro and Allura and Coran drunk. And they’re our old teachers and father!” Lance said. Keith’s face turned red upon remembering that incident. His dad was a pretty good drinker, only drinking at celebrations or barbeques and even then, he usually has one or two drinks. However, after Keith’s return home, they’d all gone to celebrate at a restaurant where Shiro felt it was okay to have a couple of nice drinks and after a while, it was Keith and his friends watching over Shiro, Allura and Coran, to make sure they didn’t do anything they’d regret. Keith had bee stunned and slightly offended at seeing his indestructible dad drunk, though, after a few corny dad jokes and bad attempts at flirting with their waiter, Keith had several embarrassing videos of his father.

              “But have we ever seen drunk Keith? No!” Lance asked and then answered his own question before anyone had the chance to answer.

              “And why would I want to get drunk? Especially around you losers?” Keith rolled his eyes, whining when he earned a kick from Pidge. He glowered at his friend’s betrayal and sunk deeper into Hunk’s side, immediately earning a hug from the bigger man.

              Lance sighed heavily. “Look, man, you don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. If you don’t want to get drunk, then I will never force you too. If you don’t want to drink then I really won’t push it. I’m just teasing.”

              Keith blushed at the genuine tone of Lance’s voice and he swallowed. “I don’t know about getting drunk…but, maybe a drink and dinner would be nice?” Keith finally said.

              “Oooh! We could go to that awesome cheesecake restaurant that you love!” Pidge was suddenly interested in the conversation and put down their book. Hunk’s eyes lit up and he nodded reverently. “They have a big variety of drinks you can choose from, and their rainbow trout – to die for!”

              “Yeah,” Lance nodded with a soft smile on his face. He was happy to see a relaxed expression on Keith’s face. It was a look that the friends had missed, especially since Keith’s return from the military. “Drinks and dinner sound good to me.”

x.V.x

              “Hi, Keith! Are you having fun?” Shiro bit back the large grin that was threatening to twist up his lips. He had just arrived at the restaurant less than five minutes ago, after receiving a call from Keith. Though, he wasn’t sure what Keith had tried to say into the call before a laughing Hunk took the phone and explained that Keith had somehow managed to get drunk.

              Shiro had freaked at first, ready to scold Keith’s friends because for a panicked moment all he could think was that Keith wanted to drink until he forgot the memories of his time in the war. However, he stopped when he heard the fun Keith was having and learning that Keith had gotten drunk because he’d accidentally drank Hunk’s drink which had twice as much alcohol due to his bigger body size.

              “Takashi! Hey guys, have you met Takashi Shirogane?” Keith laughed, face bright red and hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. He pushed himself off of Pidge, who also seemed a bit buzzed and was giggling at Keith. Keith put one hand under his chin to look at Shiro. “This guy’s a hero. Makes me wish he was my dad.”

              This time Shiro did laugh.

              “I’m pretty sure he is your dad, Keith.” Hunk explained while Lance howled with laughter. Thankfully, the group was in a secluded and private part of the restaurant after Lance had explained that Keith was a soldier and drinking for the first time ever.

              Keith’s jaw dropped in genuine awe and shock before his eyes sparkled. “Really?”

              “Yep,” Shiro answered before taking a seat next to Keith. Keith blinked at Shiro before grabbing his hand.

              “Did you guys hear that? This here is my dad. Which means I can brag about how proud I am of him.” Keith said excitedly. Shiro chuckled and allowed Keith to play around with his hands. His ears were slightly pink from Keith’s words, but he managed to keep his expression schooled.

              “That’s so cool buddy.” Lance snickered, snapping another picture of Keith’s dopey grin.

              “Hey, hey Takashi.”

              “You can call me dad.”

              “Dadashi.”

              “Mi maldito dios.”

              “Dadshi, how much can you bench press. Because I – I can bench,” Keith asked loudly, grabbing Shiro’s whole arm. “Wait, what was I saying?” He frowned in that adorable manner that he always did when he was confused and Shiro smiled softly. He gave Keith’s hand a gentle pat.

              “You wanted to say how much you can bench,” Shiro said and Keith’s eyes lit up again.

              “Right! Because I can bench two Dadshi’s. Two.” Keith bragged with a wag of his fingers. Shiro crossed his arms over his chest in amusement.

              “Oh really?”

              “Yeah, you calling me a liar?” Keith said, face scrunching up. He looked more like an angry kitten than an ex-pilot for the military.

              “No, no.” Shiro bit back another laugh. However, the damage was done, and Keith was pushing himself out of his chair.

              “Let’s go then. Right here, right now.” Keith said suddenly. Shiro’s eyes widened in shock and he blinked at his son. “Come on. Right now. I can bench you twice over and beat you.”

              “Are you challenging me to a strength competition?” One of Shiro’s eyebrows raised and his muscles happened to flex when he crossed his arms over his chest. However, this did nothing to deter Keith and instead motivated him to get on the floor in position. All the while, Lance, Pidge and even Hunk were howling in the background.

              Shiro rolled his eyes before doing as Keith said with a warm smile grace his lips. At least he’s having fun.

x.V.x

              “I’m dying. That wasn’t fun. I never wanna do that again and I’m dead.” Keith moaned from where he was laying on the couch. Inside the kitchen, Shiro continued to cook Keith’s breakfast (more like brunch at this point).

              “Make sure you take that Tylenol and drink all of the water,” Shiro said from inside the kitchen. Keith groaned again, burying himself further in the bed, letting all of his pain and misery be known. Thankfully, he took the pills and drank the entire glass of water in one go. Just as it was finished, Shiro came by to set another glass of water down.

              “Keep hydrated, it helps,” Shiro promised, ruffling Keith’s hair gently.

              “Nooooo.”

              “Trust me, it does help,” Shiro said again with a soft chuckle and he walked away back into the kitchen. Keith moaned again but eventually sat up to continue drinking. He smiled to himself, despite his misery at his dad’s help. All morning he’d helped to make sure Keith was comfortable in bed, making sure Keith showered, helping him to stop throwing up and making breakfast.

              “Why couldn’t I be immune to alcohol like you or Uncle Kuro?” Keith sighed, only to grin when Shiro returned with two bowls of a Japanese traditional breakfast. They were foods that Keith hadn’t had in a couple years but his father had used to cook them all the time when he was a child.

              “I never would have guessed you to be a lightweight,” Shiro admitted, digging into his own bowl of food. “But at least you tried it.” He shrugged while Keith messily ate his own bowl. Gently, he leaned over to clean Keith’s face, ignoring the protests from his son.

              The two ate in peaceful silence until it was interrupted by Keith.

              “Hey dad,” He said quietly. Shiro paused in mid-chew to look at Keith. “Thanks for being there for me. Yesterday and today.”

              “Of course, Keith,” Shiro leaned over and tucked Keith against his side as the two continued to eat. “I’ll always take care of you.”

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Just random queastions. 1.) Do you think, that they maybe changed their mind after the reaction to the withanaccent-interview and felt so insulted, that they decided, to not make Johnlock canon after all? 2.) The tarmac-scene has some big similaritis to a scene in DW (don´t know what to say; question about the future; last chance to say "it") and is just built up like a love confession-scene. Do you think that maybe TPTB didn´t notice this? Or really thought it was funny? I´m so confused... tbc

3.)Benedict seems to be such a nice person (I love Martin even more, but he is not so outwardly caring.) etc. and i just can´t imagine him agreeing to queerbaiting? (I find most of "TJLC-Evidence" not very convincing, because I would also die etc. for a friend, but the tarmac-scene is imo queerbaiting/almost love confession. They HAVE TO notice what the scene implies!?). 4.)They always say it is their show etc. and that they don´t care about critics, do they really think of themself as SO GOOD?

5.) They said, that ACD did a mistake with Mary. Why do they do the same? I completly hate that dog-comperison/Mary-is-better-scene (TST is my least favoruite episode). It had to be a active descision to give Mary the narration over John ( THE ACTUAL NARRATOR!). They can´t just ignore all the terrible things they say about Mary and make her some angel asassian who saves John/Sherlock and is better than everyone?! And she is there the WHOLE TIME! She killed Sherlock! Why? Why? Why? For Amanda???

6.) There is that Amanda Abbington-Interview where she talks about coming back. Do you really thing that we´ll maybe have to see Mary-flashbacks/callbacks in every new episode? 7.) Prior to season 4, they said that they have 3 new cases etc., but in the end it wasn´t really like in season 1-2 (season 3 actually was my favorite season, but it clearly was different). TST and TFP ended in family drama. Do you trust them to go back to "normal" cases, without the need to over complicate everything?

8.)Do you think, that they maybe change their mind "pro-johnlock"(if it really was just a joke to them), after critics like Indiewire etc. called them out for the queerbaiting/John and Sherlocks feelings for eachother? That maybe they´ll realize that it´s not just "teenager girls" "hallucinating"? 9.)Do you believe in a season 5 (especially with BC as DS now)? 10.)Will we ever know, what John wanted to say in TRF? 11.)With TFP i wonder,do they truly believe we watch the show for the plot twists?

Oh Wow, Lots of stuff to get to here! Let’s have a look-see!

Well, that interview would have had nothing to do with any of their decisions; if a journalist had that kind of power in the history of Sherlock ever, then it would have been canon in S2, or ahdblock been canon in S3, or sher/0//ie canon in episode one. Like... no, and that interview was garbage anyway. Anything that Mofftiss have done, is COMPLETELY on them and MAYBE the BBC. They were already filming TFP, I believe, around that time frame, so no, it had no bearing whatsoever on the outcome of the series.

Ah, yup, Doomsday’s Bad Wolf Bay and the tarmac scene are pretty much identical (and just as painful), yet no one argues what The Doctor was going to say. But years later, we STILL have to prove to people that Sherlock indeed was going to and did tell John that he loved him. It drives me crazy. Mofftiss knew EXACTLY what they were doing, especially since the scene has parallels to the tarmac scene’s unspoken love in Casablanca. They did it on purpose; it’s even framed similarily to that tarmac, and the wording similar to Bad Wolf Bay. Just... They can’t seriously expect us to not believe it wasn’t meant romantically.

Well, to be fair, I don’t think EITHER OF THEM wanted to be part of a giant queerbaiting fest. They both seemed immensely proud of their portrayals of their characters, Ben AND Martin played both of their characters gay and bi respectively, and BOTH men support LGBT causes and Ben is vocal against homophobia (I’m pretty sure Martin is as well, I just know Ben’s interviews better). I really honestly believe that they thought they were creating something different and were led to believe a different outcome of their character arcs than what we got. I don’t fault them at all – they are just puppets for the puppetmasters.

Oh, they’re lying so hard about their lack of caring... If they didn’t care, Gattiss wouldn’t have written back, in prose, to a critic and Moffat wouldn’t be like “I don’t understand why no one likes this season” (paraphrasing, of course, but his blasé attitude is SO annoying and pretentious). Neither of them have really, otherwise, done anything but remain in hiding after the fallout of S4. It’s both suspicious and really REALLY annoyingly petty.

Yeah, I STILL am reeling over their complete 180˚ of Mary’s character. It makes no fucking sense; they clearly were combining her character with that of the role of Sebastian Moran in ACD canon, and the arc was going to be brilliant. I have a lot of personal very biased opinions on why they did it, but yeah, it doesn’t make any fucking sense. THEY KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING with her character. That and Moffat is terrible at writing women characters at the end of their arcs. If anything, her character was just unnecessarily shoehorned into a bigger role because they decided last minute to NOT make her Moran after all even though they STILL tied her character to Moriarty in S4. ACD did WAY better with Mary as a background character. And YES, it was SO WRONG of her to be the narrator, just... NO she’s NOT the one telling the stories. Ugh.

Ugh, is there? Okay, look, IF – IFFFFF –  it’s shown in S5 that all of S4 was a ruse orchestrated by mostly her hand, reverting her character back to where it should be, THEN maybe I can accept her back in the fifth season and make her the badass villain she was SUPPOSED to be. I don’t believe she is dead because her gunshot was fake af, although I do ALSO believe that she may have been killed John in the false narrative scenario. If she comes back, it will be to explain her true actions in S4. Otherwise, she’s dead, we don’t need to see her anymore. Flashbacks maybe, but that’s it.

S3 was my favourite season too, but I think that’s a personal bias because I love Sherlock’s character so much and I loved seeing how far their relationship arc progressed. T6T and TLD barely even HAD cases... and TFP, I don’t know her... so I don’t know where this idea came from. The whole season seemed intent on keeping John and Sherlock as distant from each other as possible, making Sherlock the sidekick TO MARY in his own show, and putting “no one asked for this” focus on Mary. Look, I know it sounds like I hate her, but I REALLY DON’T. I hate what they DID TO HER CHARACTER, and trying to call S4 a case-centred series when CLEARLY the case was a moot point in the first episode to Mary-backstory, it’s ridiculous. There wasn’t really a case in TLD – Sherlock was high off his rocker through most of the episode and Culverton did his weird creepy rapey thing. And I don’t even know what the fuck case was happening in TFP. I WANT to trust them to go back to Just The Two of Them Against the Rest of the World (what was that line even, then?!?!), but I fear that they won’t and will find a way to shoehorn another character-we-don’t-care-about *coughs* Eurus*coughs* into the story.

Oh, I don’t think anyone could change Mofftiss’ minds. Look, if Johnlock DOES become canon, it will be because it was the plan all along, but because of how far S4 strayed off the narrative arc, it will look like they did it because of public outcry, NOT because it was their brilliant plan. They should have just stuck to the narrative rather than try for a publicity stunt that will probably work against them in the end.

Tough to say about S5. There are reports about it being already commissioned, but I fear the negative reception may keep Martin and Ben far away from it if it turns out it really is a face-value series. I don’t know. BBC seems proud of what they got, so probably will get one. It’s one of the BBC’s top-rated shows (I think pre-S4 it was higher than Dr. Who), so who knows.

Hahaha nope, I don’t think so. I USED to think we would, that Mofftiss were better writers together and would at least round out all the plot holes, but... S4 leaves me skeptical on a lot of things.

I REALLY do think that they think we like the plot twists rather than the stories. Like... no. People were watching for the relationship, whether they knew it or not, platonic or not. The story of two men with the greatest friendship / relationship of all time. Not for ... whatever the hell TFP was.

Whew!