#where I hide something behind another thing

[inkskinned]

i'm still trying to piece together the truth of it. when you left, you said: feel free to spin this narrative however you want. i have no idea if you were being cruel or if you just genuinely don't remember what you've done to me.

it's hard because i'd done so much of the work for you. i had seen the parts that flaked off, the rust underneath. i started separating you into two people - the one i loved, and the one who hurt me. i had this fantasy version of you - my partner - and then i had this stranger, a third person who would show up randomly to shatter me. i am deliriously glad i'm no longer with "the stranger". i miss the gentle (unreal?) "other" you terribly.

at first, i was so strict about my boundaries. i remember telling you to get the fuck out of my house if you were going to talk to me like that. by the end: i would justify your behavior for you, accepting even your mistreatment as "my fault" in the grand scheme. i look back on the person i was before you - smart, independent, confident - and i feel a strange sense of detachment. i don't even recognize me.

even in one of our last conversations, you said: if you want a partner that always talks warmly to you, find someone else. there was a time that a comment like that would have made me leave. and instead, somehow, i just placidly accepted that kind of thing. you were literally telling me that i wasn't allowed to have a reaction to your cruelty - and i just took it, because you'd so fully turned things around on me.

when people are faced with irrationality, a rational brain tries to make sense of it. this is the trap. they're lovely in the morning, gentle and blue-eyed and sweet. like nothing even happened, they breeze around the house and kiss you on the mouth. but at night; who is that? they snap almost randomly; flying into an impotent rage about just-about-anything. it just doesn't make sense. so the problem must be me, and my brain, and how i think.

the traumatized brain just wants peace. so maybe i'm misremembering. maybe you were just having a bad day. maybe it's actually me.

you eventually would fully turn on me and start implying that i am the bad actor in our relationship. that's what happens, right? that's literally in the playbook. you went to therapy for all of a month, told her a half-truth, co-opted therapyspeak. you figured out how to reframe your actions as "seeking peace." any time i stood my ground, i was "gaslighting." when i asked you to be more gentle, you said i was "tone policing." you said, randomly, i had emotionally manipulated you - i still have no idea what that's even specifically referring to. maybe my consistent requests for calmness and empathy?

and while i literally know better, and i'm sitting here, trained by you, thinking: wait, fuck. was i actually the person you made me out to be?

and the thing that scares me is that i literally do not know if you ever actually saw what you were doing to me. when you'd tell me how you remember arguments, you'd always summarize them in a way where you come off as gentle and easy: "i was trying to set an important boundary." what had actually happened was 15 minutes of you shouting at me i know you did something shady, just admit it already. eventually you'd say my reaction to your shouting (when i finally reacted, which usually happened around hour three) was inevitably "disappointing" and "another way i'm silencing your feelings."

how many times did i ask you - beg you - to just take accountability? looking back, i don't think i ever heard you say: you're right. the way i talked to you was wrong of me.

i am trying to tie together the two people into a full version of you in my head. yes, you made my coffee and made me laugh and spent hours on the phone with me. and yes - you would scream at me until i had to run away and hide behind something.

i wish i did have a narrative i could pull out and shape to my whim. i wish i did have some semblance of reality. instead i just stand here, strange and vibrating, wondering: what the fuck just happened?

[flwrkid14]

Ghosts of Gotham

They say Gotham is haunted.

Not just by the usual things—regret, poverty, old blood in alleyways—but by something else. Something stranger.

They say the shadows twitch wrong on certain nights. That if you walk the Narrows during a thunderstorm, your reflection in puddles might smile before you do. That if you laugh too loud after midnight, something laughs back—higher pitched, younger, aching with glee.

And if you ask the wrong people, in the wrong bars, beneath the flickering neon where the rogues drink and the bats won’t tread, you’ll hear about him.

They call him Joker Junior in the files. JJ in the headlines. The Painted Prince in the streets.

But his name was once Tim.

The lost Drake boy. The one they didn’t recover. The one who didn’t die—but didn’t escape, either.

He laughs like he’s trying to drown something. He smiles with too many teeth and talks to himself in riddles no one else can follow. And behind the greasepaint and the scars and the violet shadow of someone else’s madness… there was once a boy who loved maps and logic and riddles that had real answers.

He’s the one Gotham forgot how to mourn.

People say he changed the city. That when he came back wrong, Gotham did too. That he left it cracked down the middle, laughing and bleeding, and no one dared to glue it back together.

But he’s not the only ghost in town.

Because they say another came for him.

Not one of Gotham’s own. Not Crime Alley born, or Arkham-bound. A boy, if you could still call him that. This one came with wind in his lungs and frost at his heels. With a laugh that froze the river and eyes that could see every version of the city stacked on top of itself like broken teeth. Glowing blue and ancient-eyed, like someone who knew too much about love and death and the cruel ways they blur.

The ghost didn’t belong to Gotham. But he stayed for him.

They say Joker Junior didn’t run when the ghost found him. Didn’t scream. Didn’t hide. Just looked at the boy glowing in the sky like a neon omen and said: “God, you’re late. I was beginning to think I made you up.”

And Danny—because that’s what the children call him now, just Danny—grinned like a god who’d waited lifetimes and said: “I thought I was supposed to stop you.”

Now they move through Gotham like a storm and its shadow. One trailing riddles, chaos, and grinning violence. The other bending light and chill, and humming softly to the bones of the dead.

They don’t save people. Not the way the capes do.

But the monsters scatter when they’re near. The haunted buildings go quiet. And the kids who get lost in the dark come back changed—smiling like they know a secret.

Some say Danny pulls Tim back from the edge every night. Others say Tim is the only thing keeping Danny from becoming something godlike and cold.

Others still say they’re both already long gone—and what walks Gotham now are just what love leaves behind when it starts to rot beautifully.

But here’s the part they all agree on:

They’re in love.

Twisted, terrifying love. The kind that warps magic and makes death look romantic. The kind that turns ghost stories into gospel. The kind you want to stay away from—but can’t help watching when it passes.

And sometimes, on Gotham’s highest rooftops—clocktower, cathedral, the burned-out pier of the old amusement park—they’ll dance.

Tim in blood-slicked purple. Danny in frostbitten black. Laughing like the world’s about to end.

And maybe it already did.

Maybe they're all that was left.

Or maybe—maybe—they were what came next. Love, haunting, and chaos in tandem. The prince and the ghost. The joke and the echo. Gotham’s newest myth. Its oldest curse. And the kind of love story you should never say out loud after dark.

[happyk44]

[ID: Text reading: And Cain talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him.

And the Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel they brother? And he said, I know not: Am I my brother’s keeper?

2. Text reading: What is evil anyway, a sad soul infected with devils who take his will, or a man thinking of all his mother’s children he loves himself the best?

3. Illustration. Two figures watch a flaming car from a safe distance. One of the figures is completely yellow, like a bright light. The other figure is dark and shadowed beside them.

4. Text reading: The first thing God made is love then comes blood and the thirst for blood

5. Text reading: Two brothers are fighting by the side of the road. Two motorbikes have fallen over on the shoulder, leaking oil into the dirt, while the interlocking brothers grapple and swing. You see them through the backseat window as you and your parents drive past. You are twelve years old. You do not have a brother. You have never experienced anything ferocious or intentional with another person.

6. Text reading: Brother, my brother Oh, now the darkness comes alive It comes for me and I come for you

7. Text reading: This is my brother and I need a shovel to love him.

8. Text reading: [Roman:] You fucking bastard.

Kendall: I love you, man.

Roman: I fucking hate you.

9. Text reading: They are the same and they are not the same. They are the same and they hate each other for it.

10. Painting. Abel lies on the ground, trying to shield himself with one hand while Cain stands over him, one foot on his brother to keep him down, arms raised and ready to swing his club. The colours of the piece are mostly dark and muted, but Abel is coloured much more lightly, as though a beam were shining down against his chest and face. Cain is heavily shadowed, save for part of his face displaying focused intent, the length of his arm as he prepares to kill his brother, and the leg he’s used to keep Abel pinned.

11. Painting. Abel lies splayed out on the ground. Gripping a stick in one hand, Cain leans against a nearby rock and stares at his brother.

12. Text reading: and I killed my brother I had to and only wish I hadn’t washed my hands in the river the water remembers so long

13. Text reading: I really love you, but I can’t fucking stomach you.

14. Text reading: “If you have a sister and she dies, do you stop saying you have one? Or are you always a sister, even when the other half of the equation is gone?”

15. Text reading: there is something wrong with you

There is something wrong with you that is also wrong with me

16. Tumblr post from @/vampowers dated July 22nd 2023: sibling relationships are so strange… like I love you. You will never understand me in a way that matters. We are the same person in drastically different ways. We are sewn together. We don’t talk. We are attached at the hip. You wish I was never born. Can I call you. Let’s eat together. I forgive you. Etc

17. Text reading: You ask would I have done it for a husband or a child my answer is no I would not. A husband or a child can be replaced but who can grow me a new brother.

18. Text reading: Your sister haunts you. Your sister was wounded, long before she was killed. Your sister has always been wounded.

19. Text reading: Roman: Why do you love trying to hurt me do you think?

Shiv: It’s something to pass the time I guess?

20. Painting. The version of the painting has been cropped. In the full version, three women, anthromorphised depicts of Courage, Despair and Anxiety, hide behind a large rock observing a battle. What is visible in this cropped version is Anxiety gripping her shawl while Courage holds her wrist. Courage leans away from the other two. Despair sits further behind them in the shadows.

21. Text reading: You who I called brother How could you have come to hate me so? Is this what you wanted?

22. Text reading: And Cain says, “When you split me and my brother in the womb, you did not divide us evenly. He got kindness, and I got longing. He got complacence, and I got ambition. I want to kill him sometimes. I think sometimes he wants to die.”

23. Text reading: Who kills their own brother? Well, someone who loves him very much.

24. Tiktok comment from corinne reading, “I was so selfish. I was just a kid. I was so mad. I’m so sorry”

25. Text reading: And what can I tell you my brother, my killer What can I possibly say? I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you I’m glad you stood in my way

26. Text reading: hello, brother, hello? hello in there, brother, can you hear me? it’s a long tunnel to the grave

27. Still from the TV show, Succession. The three Roy siblings - Roman, Kendall, and Siobhan - stand in a room. While they're standing beside on another, there's decent space between the three of them.

28. Text reading: Oh, I could call you names now. List a hundred reasons for why you were awful. But what would that do? Where would it leave me? [highlight] I still loved you. I still have to live with that. [end highlight]

29. Text reading: In the Field, the ground warms as blood seeps into the dirt.

/end ID]

MY BROTHER / MY KILLER

"The King James Bible, Genesis 4 / "Black Leopard, Red Wolf" by Marlon James / "Car Crash" by Jenna Andersen / "Stratis Thalassinos Among the Agapanthi" by George Seferis (tr. by Edmund Keeley) / "You are Jeff" by Richard Siken (1) / "Brother" by The Rural Alberta Advantage / "A Brother named Gethsemane" by Natalie Diaz / "Succession" Script (1) / "You are Jeff" by Richard Siken (2) / "Cain Killing Abel" by Pietro Novelli / "The Death of Abel" by Gustave Doré (1866), recolored / "Lupa" by Matthew Nienow / Succession, S04 EP 10, "With Open Eyes" / "My Sister's Keeper" by Jodi Picoult / “Mirror Traps” by Hera Lindsay Bird / post by tumblr user vampowers / "Antigone", tr. by Anne Carson / "6 ways to draw a circle" by tumblr user filmnoirsbian / "Succession" Script (2) / "Courage, Anxiety and Despair Watching The Battle" by James Sant (detail) / "The Plagues", Prince of Egypt, dir. by Brenda Chapman / untitled poem by tumblr user nathanielorion (1) / "After Abel" by Dante Émile / comment from tiktok / "Famous Blue Raincoat" by Leonard Cohen / "For my unnamed brother" by Toi Derricotte / Succession screenshot / untitled, Sue Zhao / untitled poem by tumblr user nathanielorion (2)

[cripplecharacters]

Is it realistic to use a cane/crutches to beat the shit out of someone/run someone over with a chair/rollator/etc? I would personally do it but I wonder if it's different for those who use different aids. (If the context matters, it's between two characters who don't really care about larger ramifications in a kind of typical dumb teen delinquent way, they have a vitriolic relationship where they get on but express their emotions by brawling in the parking lot and such things)

Hello,

Not very.

Most mobility aides are not structurally sound enough to be used as a weapon, meaning they would bend, dent, or otherwise break if used to strike someone or something. And if you are reliant on your mobility aid to get around, you wouldn't want to risk damaging it by using it as a weapon in a fight. You might need to use it to run away, and it's very hard to run away on dented crutches. Plus, if it's damaged, you will need to replace it, and replacing your mobility aid can be a real pain and very expensive. Unless they have one of those fancy canes that are specifically reinforced for combat purposes (which are hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars and far heavier than normal canes,) they'll either break their mobility aid or they won't put enough force behind the swing to do damage. It would be a desperate last resort measure.

(Plus, assuming your character can swing a cane or crutch hard enough to do actual damage, it would be very easy to accidentally put someone in the hospital or even the morgue. You aim an aluminium pole at someone's temple or neck and you run the risk of killing them even if you don't put a lot of force behind the swing. Same problem with the face. Hit them in the gut and you can damage organs, at the chest and you can accidentally snap ribs or stop the heart. Aim it at a joint and you could severely mess up said joint. Aim it at the back and you run the risk of messing up organs or the spinal cord. Aim it at any bone beyond something like the femur (trust me, hollow aluminium pole is not going to do more than bruise the femur unless you're Superman, you will break the cane or crutch long before you will so much as crack the femur) and you could cause a serious break, like an open or comminuted fracture. Even aiming it at a major blood vessel like the femoral could cause catastrophic internal bleeding or haemorrhaging. That's another reason it's a last resort measure, because if you can do actual damage, you're likely to do a lot of it. Remember, a mobility aid is still a metal pole. You would break it if you put enough force behind it to cause damage, but there is a potential for serious harm there that you don't want to take unless it's life-or-death.)

You could roll someone over with a rollator or wheelchair. I have seen people run over other people's feet using the wheels of their wheelchairs (one famous example is that Stephen Hawking used to run over the feet of people he did not like with his wheelchair.) You wouldn't be able to run over someone's body with it, that's far too uneven a terrain, but running over someone's foot or hand is plausible. Unlikely to do any real damage, but plausible and at least likely to hurt due to the number of nerves in the hand and foot.

Using a mobility aid as a weapon is a last resort measure- I've seen people state that they would sooner look for an improvised weapon such as a plank of wood before they considered using their cane or crutches to whack someone. If you're writing it as a last resort measure, yes, it can be realistic. But very few people are going to swing at someone's head with a cane if they're just in a little spat or are just sparring. Plus, using this trope just reinforces the idea that disabled people's mobility aids are threats. A cane or crutch is already seen by cops as a potential bludgeon, a prosthetic leg as a potential bomb, a wheelchair as somewhere you can hide weapons. Even though the use of mobility aids as weapons is a very rare occurrence, people assume it is more common, so everyone using a mobility aid is treated as a potential threat or even as if they've already done something wrong when they haven't. And if you attack someone with a mobility aid, it's seen by the law as less of a crime because "they have a weapon and just didn't use it." Best not to perpetuate the stereotype as it does have real-world consequences.

I'd give them some other form of weapons if you would like them to engage in armed combat.

Mod Aaron

[ashthesalamipiece]

I’ve thought of something cute so Dabi x reader obviously Dabi is a villain and they can’t get married which would I feel like Dabi would be abit upset but anyways the reader and Dabi were talking a little and they’d been together for over 2 years and wanted to take it to another step but just couldn’t so Dabi went around referring to you as his wife in front of the lov or would say things like Mrs Todoroki whatever, went as far to say that you two were married when people would ask why he referred to you as that

“Mrs. Todoroki” — Dabi x Reader (Soft Villain Fluff)

It wasn’t official. Hell, it couldn’t be. Not when he was on Japan’s most wanted list and your idea of a honeymoon was hiding in an abandoned apartment with broken windows and blankets for curtains.

Still, that didn’t stop him.

You were sitting on the worn-out couch in the League’s latest hideout, thumbing through a magazine you found god-knows-where, when you heard Dabi’s gravel-rough voice echo from the other room.

“Oi, Twice, pass that to my wife, yeah?”

Your head snapped up just as a confused Twice peeked in with a grin.

“Didn’t know we had a wedding, Dabi,” he said, handing you a cold bottle of soda. “Was there cake?”

“Yeah,” Dabi smirked, sauntering in behind him, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “She looked good enough to eat.”

You threw a pillow at his head. “You’re an idiot.”

He caught it with a lazy hand and tossed it right back. “Your idiot, though.”

It had started off like a joke. Something flippant he muttered when someone asked too many questions, when he didn’t feel like explaining the truth — that love was a rare and dangerous thing in a life like his, and that you were the only piece of it he hadn’t destroyed.

But over time, it stuck.

Mrs. Todoroki.

My wife.

Wife’s got good aim, watch it.

And when people asked, like Compress or Spinner or the occasional poor fool who didn’t know who he was messing with, Dabi would just shrug and light a cigarette.

“What? We’re married. Not my fault society doesn’t recognize villain unions.”

He’d never say it out loud, not really — but there was something in the way he held you after long nights, something raw and desperate in how he’d trace lazy circles on your back when you were drifting off. He couldn’t give you a ring. He couldn’t give you a real wedding or a normal life.

But he could call you his.

And in his own twisted, scarred-up way, he already had.

[prettydaisygirl]

hiii would you write something with dark!james again? something like, James plans something to scare reader to be able to save her after? (For exemple, he pays a guy to follow her or yell at her and James can come and save the day) I feel like it’s dark and twisted but perfect for dark!obsessed!james? I love your writing!! 🫶

hi nonnie! I absolutely LOVE to write for dark!James, so thank you so much for sending this in! I have been thinking about him recently, I love him. I hope you enjoy this one and that you're having a wonderful day <3

dark!James Potter x fem!reader who gets 'attacked' at the park ✿ 1.1k words

cw: fem!reader, James is a stalker, staged attempted kidnapping (?), master manipulator James Potter, James is a professional athlete

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

Things are taking too long.

If it was up to James, he’d already have a ring on your finger and he’d be calling you his wife. He’d have you in his bed and he’d never let you out of his sight again.

But, he doesn’t want to scare you away, doesn’t want to run you off. He knows you’re already timid, given who he is and how forward he’s already been toward you. So no, James can’t just pick you up, force you into a wedding dress and carry you down the aisle, though that’s what he wants. 

What he can do, though, is scare you into his arms. He’d thought of the plan last week after he’d asked you to move in with him for the second time, and you rejected him again. 

“I don’t know, James…” You’d said, fingers twirling nervously, “Don’t you think it’s… a little soon?”

Part of him wants to be angry with you for not understanding that he is all you need, but he could never be mad at you. Not really. He just needs to give you a push in the right direction, right to him.

He’s waiting, now, lingering down the street from the park where he’d asked you to meet him. He followed your car here, though stayed far enough back that you wouldn’t notice him. He gave himself your location (and set it to always) on the first date too, and you haven’t turned it off yet, so it seems you haven’t noticed. 

He keeps his head ducked low, eyes narrowed as he watches you take a seat on a park bench. You play with the hem of your sundress, eyes glancing around as you take in your surroundings. And then, you reach for your phone, and your eyes lower. Bingo. 

James is slow in his movements as he climbs out of his car. His eyes never leave your figure, movements controlled so he won’t catch your attention just yet. Another man, an acquaintance of James’, climbs out of the car parked behind him. The two men meet eyes and exchange a quick nod. 

James waits, and watches, hiding in the shadows of a tree to avoid detection. He’ll come out when it’s time, he knows his cue. 

You’re sitting, scrolling through something on the screen, when a man-shaped shadow suddenly blocks the sun. You smile as you raise your head, expecting to see James. 

Only, it isn’t James. It’s some other man you don’t know. He looks to be around James’ age, but that’s where the similarities end. 

“Hello…” You greet him nervously, glancing around in the hopes that James might be approaching, arriving for your date. He isn’t. The man doesn’t move, doesn’t speak or really respond to you in any way. “Hello?” You ask again. Nothing, silence. He just stands there, menacingly. 

The silence goes on long enough that you get really uncomfortable, feeling antsy as you glance around and think of a way out of this. 

“Oh- uhm, I think I see my boyfriend over there.” You lie, but you gesture vaguely back in the direction of your car. Maybe if you can make it there, you can drive away and call James. It’s when you move to stand up from the bench that the situation takes a turn for the worse.

The man grabs your wrist firmly. You gasp, frightened and panicked, and try to jerk your arm from his grip. You struggle, but he’s stronger than you. 

“Let me go!” You cry out, but his fingers only tighten. He begins to tug you in the opposite direction, practically dragging you along as you try to fight back against him with everything you have. Your shoes scrape along the concrete and you can feel your eyes burning with tears, your entire body shaking. 

“Hey!” Like an Angel, sent by God himself, James Potter appears as your savior at the perfect moment. Your head whips around, and you take advantage of the slight loosening in your abductor’s grip to break free and run toward your boyfriend. Your very famous, professional athlete boyfriend. James gives you a soft look that makes you feel so incredibly grateful for him, and your appreciation only grows as he pushes you behind him. “Back off of her!”

James shoves the other man, who raises his hands like he’s somehow innocent. The sight of him makes you feel sick, wrapping your arms around yourself. You close your eyes as James continues to yell, and you don’t reopen them until James’ hands find your shoulders and he begins to lead you back to his car. 

“You’re alright, baby, yeah?” He asks you softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. You’re still shaking as he buckles you in, pressing a long kiss to your forehead before running as fast as he can to the driver’s side. He takes your hand the second he’s sitting down.

“I’m okay,” You finally manage, inhaling shakily, “That was really scary.”

“What did he want?” James asks, voice grunted and low like the thought of the man or what he was planning is still making him angry. 

“I don’t know,” You admit honestly, leaning across the center console of the car to be closer to your boyfriend. “He didn’t say anything. Just started pulling me.” 

“I’m sorry,” James brings your hand up to his lips to kiss, and you feel your shoulders finally start to relax again. 

“Thank you for saving me.” You say quietly, and he squeezes your hand. 

And James, of course, gets everything he wants. You come back to his apartment, where the two of you have a date in bed with your dress on the floor instead of picnicking in the park. He makes sure to be extra attentive, never leaving your sight for longer than a few minutes. You fall into his trap hook, line, and sinker. Just like he knew you would. 

And that night, when the two of you are still tangled together and covered in sweat, he whispers, “I think you should stay here from now on. It’ll make me feel better.”

And after a moment, only the slightest second of hesitation, you whisper back “I think so too.”

Just like he knew you would. 

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[citysuk]

when we were young | lh44 & nr6

chapter 2

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!strategist x nico rosberg

summary: "flashbacks when you meet me, your buzz cut and his hair bleached. even in my worst times, you could see the best of me. flashback to my mistakes, my rebounds, my earthquakes. even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me."

words: 1952

warnings: love triangle, fluffiness, 3 idiots who don't know how to really talk about their feelings. social class difference. eventual angst. eventual brocedes conflict.

notes: wanted to post yesterday but it was my birthday so i wasn't really on my phone, but it's here now! like and reblogs are very much appreciated 🤍

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Monte Carlo, Monaco — June 2000

The plane ride to Monaco felt like stepping into another life.

The small charter jet buzzed softly as it cut through the clouds, but the real noise was inside your chest — nerves flickering, heart beating a little too fast. You’d never flown for something like this before. Not for races you weren’t driving in. Not for this world — the one Nico seemed to belong to so easily.

He sat across from you, legs stretched out, flipping lazily through a glossy Grand Prix program. His hair was messy in that way it always was when he wasn’t trying. He glanced up and caught your stare.

"You’re going to love it," Nico said softly, like a quiet promise. "The streets, the harbor... the cars. There’s nothing like it."

You smiled faintly, trying to hide the nerves. "Big words for a place I’ve only ever seen on TV."

He smirked. "You’ll see."

Across the aisle, Lewis sat slouched comfortably in his seat, earphones half-hanging from one ear, bobbing his knee to the faint beat of something only he could hear. His buzz cut caught the pale cabin light every time he moved. But for once — finally — he wasn’t wearing that wary frown. He grinned when you glanced over.

"Can you believe this?" he said softly, excitement breaking through. "Monaco. The real thing. Not some magazine or broadcast — we’re actually going."

You grinned at his boyish energy. "And here I thought you didn’t care about fancy places."

He chuckled. "I don’t care about the suits and yachts. But the track? The drivers? That’s real." His dark eyes gleamed, wide with the kind of hunger you knew from the karting paddock. "That’s what I want to see."

Nico leaned over slightly, catching Lewis’ words. "See? Even him can get excited sometimes."

Lewis shot him a smirk. "Only when it’s about cars, Rosberg. Don’t get used to it."

Their teasing felt light this time — the way it used to feel, before the edges got sharper.

When you landed, Monaco hit you like sunlight on water. Everything gleamed. The air smelled of sea salt and warm stone, and the drive from the airport wound past cliffs and endless blue harbor, yachts bobbing gently on the waves. You watched Lewis press against the window like a kid, grinning every time a Ferrari or Aston Martin slid past in traffic.

"Man... this is something else," he murmured, half to himself. "This is where it all happens, huh?"

Beside him, Nico just smiled like he belonged here. Like this was normal.

"My family’s apartment’s not far from the paddock," Nico said over his shoulder. "We’ll drop your bags, then I’ll show you the pit lane."

Lewis turned to you, eyebrows raised. "The pit lane. We’re actually going to see it." He gave a short laugh. "Guess Monaco’s not so bad after all."

You couldn’t help but smile.

The apartment was ridiculous. Marble floors. Glass walls overlooking the sea. You stood in the wide living room, turning in slow circles, feeling out of place in your scuffed sneakers, helmet bag still slung over your shoulder.

"This is... wow," you breathed.

Nico laughed softly behind you. "Told you. Monaco’s different."

Lewis let out a low whistle, standing at the balcony door, staring out at the endless blue. "Mate... if this is your everyday view, you’ve been holding out on us."

"Relax, Hamilton," Nico said, brushing past him with a grin. "No one’s judging you here."

"Not judging," Lewis said lightly, his grin wide and real. "Just wondering how the other half lives." Nico turned back to you, smile softer now. "Come on. Let’s go see the paddock."

You walked behind them down the quiet streets toward the track. The city buzzed already — crowds building, flags waving from balconies, engines growling far off like distant thunder. Nico pointed out corners of the circuit as you went. "This is the swimming pool section. Fast and tight. They say if you nail this part, you’ve mastered Monaco."

Lewis let out a long breath, shaking his head. "Tight’s one word for it. No room for mistakes here." He was closer to you now, walking beside you, his shoulder brushing yours in the crowd. His grin hadn’t faded. "Crazy, right?" he murmured. "One day... we’ll race here for real. Can you imagine?"

You smiled softly. "Yeah. One day." But then Nico stopped ahead, grinning like a kid. "There," he said, pointing. "The paddock."

You turned the corner — and stopped, breath caught. It was another world entirely. Towering trailers. Motorhomes bigger than houses. Mechanics rushing everywhere. And the cars — real Formula 1 cars — sleek and fierce under the sunlight, their paint gleaming like liquid metal.

"Want to get closer?" Nico asked, stepping beside you.

"Can we?" you whispered.

He smiled. "You’re with me." As you followed him deeper into the maze of the paddock, Lewis caught up beside you, wide-eyed.

"Feels like walking through a dream," he said softly. "Like I’ve been watching this place my whole life and now I’m inside it."

You bumped his shoulder gently. "Maybe this’ll be your future."

His gaze flicked to you, grin soft. "Ours. Don’t forget that."

The Mercedes garage loomed ahead — silver shirts, crisp logos, the low murmur of engine tech. Nico’s hand brushed your elbow, steering you closer.

"Come on. Want to see inside?" You felt Lewis tense for the first time, hesitating slightly behind you. But when you glanced back, he smiled again, pushing past it.

Inside the garage, the car sat like a beast at rest. Perfect lines. Silent menace. The smell of fuel and rubber filled the air. Engineers whispered to each other, moving fast and precise.

"You’ll be here someday," Nico murmured, close beside you. His voice was low, almost private. "I know it."

His hand touched yours for just a breath — warm, sure — before slipping away again.

And when you turned, you caught Lewis watching, his eyes darker, thoughtful now.

Before you could speak, Nico called from ahead, grinning, waving you forward toward the shining car.

And as you stepped between them — caught between Lewis’ quiet excitement and Nico’s golden world — you felt the shift again.

Sunday at Monaco was nothing like the quiet karting weekends you knew.

It was noise and heat and color everywhere — the roar of the engines bouncing off the old stone buildings, the flash of sun on chrome, the smell of burning rubber in the air. The streets throbbed with energy, the kind that made your skin prickle and your heart race.

You stood at the edge of the balcony overlooking the main straight, leaning against the railing as the cars shot past below like silver and red missiles. The noise hit your chest like a heartbeat — loud and alive. You could feel every gear change in your bones.

Nico stood beside you, sunglasses pushing his hair back, the breeze tugging at the edges of his shirt. He pointed to the corner ahead.

"That’s where Senna crashed once," he said, voice raised over the engine scream. "Even the best can make mistakes here."

You glanced sideways, watching him more than the track. He looked completely at home — as if this was his world already. Maybe it was.

"And there?" Lewis’s voice broke in behind you, closer than you’d expected. His grin hidden behind the shadow of his cap. "That’s where I’ll pass you one day, Rosberg. On the inside. You won’t even see me coming."

Nico gave a quiet laugh, not taking his eyes off the cars. "You can try. Monaco doesn’t forgive mistakes.".

The cars blurred past again, the sound like tearing sky. You gripped the cold metal rail tighter, breath caught.

Lewis stepped beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. "Look at this place," he breathed. "The track. The crowds. I want this." His voice was low but burning. "I want to be down there. Fighting. Racing. You too, yeah?"

You hesitated. The words caught in your throat, bitter. "Nah," you said softly, trying to keep your smile light. "F1's not for people like me."

They both turned at that — two pairs of eyes fixed on you now. "What do you mean?" Nico asked, frowning slightly.

You shrugged, eyes on the cars flashing by below. "It’s not for girls. Not really. They don’t let us in. Not where it counts."

Lewis let out a quiet breath beside you. "Says who?"

"Everyone," you muttered. "Look around. You see any women down there in helmets? On the grid? In the cars?" You gave a small, bitter laugh. "I’m not stupid. It’s a boys’ world. Always has been."

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The cars kept screaming past — louder than ever now. Then Nico leaned in close, voice low but firm. "That’s bullshit," he said. "If anyone could do it, it’d be you. You’ve beaten me before. You’ve beaten both of us."

You glanced at him — the certainty in his eyes made your stomach twist. "Doesn't matter if I can drive," you said softly. "They'll never let me through the door. Sponsors, teams... they don’t want a girl in the car. I’d be lucky to hold a stopwatch in the pit lane."

Lewis shook his head, his jaw tight. "You really believe that?" His voice was different now — serious, quiet. "Then what are you even doing here? You don’t race for them. You race for you. You know you’re good enough."

You blinked, surprised by the heat in his voice. "Easy for you to say," you muttered. "You’ve got a seat waiting for you someday. Both of you do."

Nico tilted his head, smiling faintly. "And you think I’m here because I’m lucky? I’ve worked for this. So will you. If you want it."

You frowned. "Wanting’s not enough. Not when the rules are made to keep you out."

Lewis stepped closer, his hand brushing your arm — warm, steady. His voice dropped low, just for you. "Then break the rules," he said. "You’ve been breaking them since karting. Don’t stop now."

Your breath caught.

For a moment the roar of the cars fell away — the whole world narrowing to the space between the three of you. Nico’s quiet certainty. Lewis’s fire. Your own doubt twisting like wire in your chest.

"Stop acting like the future’s already written," Nico added softly. "You decide what happens next. Not them."

You looked away, down at the track — the blur of speed and noise, the life you’d dreamed about but never dared to really believe was yours.

"Maybe," you whispered. "But it’s not that simple."

Lewis bumped your shoulder gently, a rare grin breaking through. "Nothing good ever is."

Nico glanced over, smile crooked. "Even Lewis gets something right sometimes."

For the first time that day, you laughed — quiet, but real. The cars screamed past again, the crowd roaring with them, but the moment between you three held steady, deeper than the noise.

"Come on," Nico said after a pause. "Let’s go down to the pit lane. You’ve seen it from up here. See it where it matters."

Lewis grinned, falling in step beside you. "Get used to it. You’ll be down there for real someday. Helmet on. Engine running."

You shook your head — but the spark inside you flickered anyway.

As you followed them down toward the track — caught between Nico’s golden confidence and Lewis’s fierce belief — you felt something shift. Small but real.

Maybe this wasn’t a boys’ world after all. Maybe the door wasn’t as locked as they wanted you to think.

[ftmslvttblog]

TW: ftm transphobia, r@pe, homophobia

My coworker has been stealing glances at me, he always makes sure I don't notice tho. He thinks I'm cute, especially for a guy. He could probably even say that I'm cuter than most girls at work.

And since he's been staring at me for so long, he started to notice little things that most people don't pay attention to. My slightly wider hips, thicker thighs, tiny waist, no bulge, and the small bumps on my chest...

Now knowing my little secret he wants to show me what I truly am.

He stalks me home multiple times, checking if I always go back straight away or if I make any stops, what paths do I take, all that so he can find the perfect spot to rape me.

And finally that opportunity comes. He doesn't wait a second longer, he runs to catch up with me, grabbing me roughly from behind and covering my mouth with his big hand. My eyes shoot wide open and my body trembles, both from cold and fear, I try to resist but he is way stronger. He pulls me away from the road, where the light doesn't quite reach, only very dimly illuminating the scene.

When he speaks my tummy does a flip, my crotch tingles, my body mixing up the tension for arousal.

"I've been waiting to do this. You thought you could hide the fact that you have a pussy hm? But anyone who pays enough attention will know, you're lucky that most people don't, you little pretender."

A muffled whimper escapes my throat when he bends me over.

"People are so blind... Look at these fucking child bearing hips... You can't fake that. Your body has a purpose that I'm going to show you tonight... Maybe after today you will forget all this 'boy' nonsense..."

He tears down my pants and underwear, exposing me to the cold night air.

"Mmm I see you keep good care of it," he caresses my slightly hairy cunt that you can tell has been shaved before, "shame I can't see it in it's full glory."

He parts my lips and prods at the entrance with his finger, it comes out sticky when he pulls it back.

He chuckles, "Wow, I can't believe you're wet, is that another secret you're hiding from the world? That you're such a cock hungry perverted slut?"

I try to muffle out a reply and deny it, but because of his hand only dumb whiny noises come out. I can tell he grins at them.

His finger glides over my clitoris, brushing it lightly to tease me, "Even tho it's big for a clit it's nowhere near as big as my cock was when I was an infant. That should tell you something. No matter how much you try to pass your body will always betray you, dummy~"

He takes pleasure in humiliating me, he says the last words almost sweetly.

One of his hands moves to unbuckle his pants, I start to stir wanting to escape, but he holds me tight, even with one hand busy, he is still stronger than me...

"I hope that tomorrow you come to work telling everybody that you were a girl all this time, maybe they won't believe you at first but after fondling you here," he gropes my tiny breasts " and especially here," his hand slides down to cup my pussy, "they will know the truth."

He presses his hard cock to my slick entrance, "Confused 'boys' like you need to be corrected back you know, you're gonna be much happier this way, just living as a girl, no longer needing to hide anything, showing that beautiful body off..."

He plunges in deep and while buried inside his face moves closer to my ear, "and none of that faggot bullshit anymore, you think I didn't see you getting sheepish while talking with some older men as if you're some virgin teenage girl? But now, both you and me know you're just a straight woman, so just embrace it. You would make such a nice girlfriend too, I'm sure..."

Slowly but surely his cock slides in and out of my pussy, the sound of skin on skin contact almost oppressively ringing in my ears.

"Are you a virgin? I bet you are, if you had a boyfriend before, I'm sure you would never think of being a boy, because being a girl would just feel too good. Isn't that right? It feels good hm? You poor, poor thing... Just needed a real man to set you straight..."

His thrusts were getting faster, "Come on say it. Say it or I'm gonna cum inside of you."

I mumble out a little panicked, through whines and tears that I didn't even notice were falling from my eyes, " Y-your'e right, I- I just needed a r-real man to fuck me and turn me s-straight..."

"Mhm that's right, and you love being fucked by straight cock hm? Doesn't it feel good to embrace what you truly are? Fuck if only I met you before... You wouldn't sound like such a faggot... Your voice is the only thing that's male about you, but your true sex reveals itself as soon as you take these clothes off... You're just a faker that plays dress up, but even then you can't hide how girly you are."

He grabs my hips harder, I could tell he was getting close. It terrified me, I really hoped he would pull out just as he promised... I didn't want to get pregnant...

"Hah... Seriously, I don't know how people can't tell, you're so feminine... Maybe if you were mute for the rest of your life, people wouldn't call you a guy ever again, you would always be a 'she' to everyone, and you would never be able to correct them..."

My pussy clenches around him, I was on the edge... If he keeps on going like this... I will cum around his cock... My rapists cock...

He noticed of course, and couldn't let it go just like that.

"Yeah... Your pussy knows you're a 'she'~"

My eyes roll over and my hole spasm trying to milk his cock.

"Oh yeah, she knows her purpose, doesn't she~? Trying to milk my cock and make you a mommy..."

A loud whine escapes me and I quickly muffle the rest of my high-pitched noises with my palm as my orgasm overtakes me.

"I knew I could make you sound like a girl..." with that, his throbbing cock releases hot sticky cum inside of my fertile little cunt.

"Hope I knocked you up so you realize how silly you are, thinking you're a guy like me." He whispers lowly into my ear before he pulls out.

Semen drips down from my fucked out pussy hole. A reminder of my true nature.

"But... even if you don't go back to being a girl, I would love to have a delusional boyfriend like you~ running around calling himself a man with a big pregnant belly that screams he took a load up his very female pussy and is refusing to accept reality..."

He tucks his penis back into his pants, and playfully slaps my ass.

"I mean, if you can pretend to be a guy in front of everyone, I can pretend I'm gay. I don't care as long as it means I can fuck that pretty pussy again... In the end, we're having straight sex anyway... Well, see you at work then~"

He slowly walks away as if nothing happened, leaving me in a dark corner leaking cum. His cum.

I eventually pull myself together and walk home with trembling legs, teary eyes and his sticky release in my underwear.

[brokenpieces-72]

Visitors

New Neighbours | Navigation

TW: mentions of stalking, mentions of possible kidnapping, attempted kidnapping/hostage

You waited by the door, looking out the windows, checking for passing vehicles. Johnny noticed you'd started to wait by the door at the end of your shift, instead of outside. You kept brushing it off as nothing, but clearly something was bothering you. This was the seventh time though. When Johnny saw you checking outside, he came over to lead you to his car, his pack slung over his shoulder.

"Aye. Kid." Johnny said, checking the windows himself. No cars were passing, and most had already left. You looked over and walked up to Johnny, to follow behind him. Johnny noticed you'd been walking with him to the car oddly as well, keeping alert and almost hiding behind him.

"Ready?" You asked, taking a breath of relief.

"Is someone bothering you?" Johnny asked. You shrugged but Johnny just kept looking at you, eyes glancing up to the windows a couple of times. It was nothing, probably just your imagination.

"Just... don't tell mom okay? Cause then she'll start worrying, and then it'll be a whole thing." You said.

"Depends on what it is." Johnny told you. "If it's something worth concern then I'll tell your mom."

"Fine." You gave in. "The past few shifts there's this one car that seems to pass the store. I think it's a couple of cars actually, that's why it's not a big deal."

"At night?" Johnny asked.

"A couple times, but I think it was just to turn around. Other times it was in the evenings. They probably don't check the store hours properly." You reasoned. It was possible. Johnny wasn't convinced. Sure plenty of people came up and thought they could still get in, but they could be turned away easily enough.

"Anything else?"

"Well... I saw one of the drivers. I was on till and packing his items, and then was sent outside. When I got out there, I saw him leaving and he looked at me, and then he looked away. He was probably surprised to suddenly see me outside. It wasn't like he followed me around the parking lot."

"Yeah because you had the radio, and could call him out for harrassment." Johnny exclaimed. Your heart was starting to thump in your chest. You started to rethink everything, trying to find any other details that should have tipped you off. It was making you uncomfortable. It hadn't been just one customer. Your chest felt a little tight. You had another follow you when you didn't have the radio, and when you noticed, they turned and went to a different part of the lot. You figured they forgot where they'd parked their car. You were scratching your arms, protected by your hoodie. Another had lingered in an aisle while you were doing the closing. A couple of people had asked you about the hours when you were helping at the gas station.

"Hey. Hey." Johnny held your shoulders, seeing you worry. Shit had he taken it too far? "Deep breaths. Alright?"

Johnny saw you were starting to tear up. He needed to get you to the car, it would be safer and quieter. Thankfully, you could still walk, still holding some of your faculties. Johnny led you to his car, eyes open for anyone who might be lingering longer than they should. When you got in the car, you kept checking the window. Johnny got in and took a moment to talk to you before driving. He felt his own paranoia peeking out from where he'd shoved it down.

"It might be nothing." Johnny told you. "Been feeling it myself for a while, like I have someone watching me. "

"is someone watching me?" You asked quickly. Johnny wasn't sure. You were smart enough for stranger danger, and keeping personal information to yourself. It could be innocent stuff, it was multiple vehicles and the store had regulars, ones that you'd spoken to before.

"I'm not sure." Johnny admitted. "If this keeps happening though, you need to speak up. If you're inside, you tell a supervisor. If you're outside, go inside and tell someone, or use the radio. Alright?"

Without a word you nodded, taking his words as orders. Johnny told you he would be taking you to his place instead of your own. He didn't want to wake your mother, but he didn't want to leave you alone at your house, letting your thoughts run wild. If he caused your paranoia, he was going to deal with it. Johnny put the car in drive, and took a longer way back to his place.

Gaz was following them. He knew Johnny's address but suddenly he took a different turn than usual. Following was a little tricky when it came to a new route, since he had to take different turns keep Johnny from catching on. No other cars seemed to be following either of them. Good. That was the last thing he wanted.

You talked to your mom, Johnny nearby for support. Your uncle said it was probably nothing, just you being paranoid and it was all in your head. Your mother took it seriously though, even asking if you wanted to call in sick to work, explain to them that you didn't feel safe at work right now. A day off would be nice, but no. It could be nothing and it would be better to sit down with your bosses to tell them what was going on.

You sat down in the office, with two of your managers. They asked if Johnny's attendance was really necessary, but you insisted. Emotional support. He didn't tell them it was also because he felt responsible via association. If whoever was watching him, was watching you, he wanted to be ready.

"Is it the same person each time?" One of your managers asked.

"No. It's been a couple of different people. They get really close when they're talking to me, or they seem to be following me in the parking lot." You answered. The two managers were concerned, but they wanted to have all the facts and be sure before taking any big steps.

"What do they look like?" The other manager asked. Admittedly it's hard for you to pull exact descriptions. The moments were small, it was different people, and some of them you didn't see their faces.

"I can't recall. Usually caucasian. One had short black hair, another was wearing a face mask and have some graying hair." You continued your descriptions of them, explaining when and where it happened. Some were more defined than others. You admitted you weren't sure, and that it could be nothing. By the end your managers had a small, loose list that they could give to one of the security. They also asked if you wanted to go home for the day. Again, you said you wanted to stay. They let you leave the office, but Johnny stayed behind.

"Take ityou don't want to talk about the score last night." The other manager said.

No he wanted to tell her, that he was exmilitary, and had been recovering from amnesia for the past few months or so. Also there was a chance that he'd put you in danger becvause he too believed he was being watched, but seemingly only at his house, where he had a room full of new clippings and scribbled notes, trying to piece together his past. Oh yeah, and there's a good chance he had dreams about death and likely wasn't mentally stable.

"If y/n has another encounter like those... would it be possible to let me know?" He asked.

"Not really supposed to. It's more of a private matter for her." The first manager said. Johnny nodded in understanding.

"If Y/N needs some extra support and asks for you, we'll find you." The other manager assured him. "It's up to her."

"Thanks." Johnny said. "As for the score last night..."

Johnny brought you to the job site again. For a while everything seemed fine, no more random stopping cars or people seeming to follow you in the parking lot. The two of you boiled it down to coincidence. Johnny took you to the portable office to check in with Milena. You swore she hadn't changed clothes since the last time you saw her, wearing the same blue button up, and black pants. The matching blazer was resting on the back of her chair. When she looked up, she gave a small professional smile, talking to Johnny. The only time she talked to you, or rather about you was when Johnny brought you up. You were an afterthought, like remembering your coworker had a dog.

"I need to ask her a few questions." Milena said. Johnny nudged you when he noticed you were distracted. Milena wanted to talk to you? Oh shit were you in trouble? Did you get Johnny in trouble. Maybe she learned you were too young (you weren't but maybe she didn't want to risk liability).

"Did I do something?" You asked, your concern covering your face. Milena shook her head slightly, her smile turning a bit more friendly.

"No. I just need to have some information in case of an emergency and for your pay." Milena explained.

"Um..." you gave Johnny a quick glance. He gave a sort of half shrug and gestured to Milena. It was your turn for the routine. Nothing to be nervous about. Privacy policies exist for a reason. "Okay."

Johnny was asked to leave, and told you to come find him or someone else when you were done. You sat down in the fold up chair, while Milena finished typing. She gave you a form on a clipboard and a pen to fill out the general information. Name, birthday, contact info. You handed it back to her with a pleasant thank you. You got up and turned to leave when she stopped you.

"You forgot to fill out your address." She said, handing it back to you. Ever since the incidents you were cautioned to keep your address to yourself. You fidgeted with your hands.

"Um... Do I have too?" You asked, facing her directly. Milena straightened a little, withdrawing the clipboard ever so slightly.

"It won't be released to anyone else unless there is an emergency." Milena assured you. Still you hesitated. "If you're in the process of moving, it can be changed later."

"No, it's not that. We moved not that long ago actually. Uh..." You already told your managers, you may as well tell her. "It's complicated.''

"It doesn't leave this room." Milena said, setting the clipbaord down. She seemed interested, resting her arms down on the desk. Her head tilted ever so slightly with curiosity. For someone you had written off as reserved, she seemed very engaged.

"The past couple of weeks at my other job... it could be nothing, but I think a few customers were kind of odd. I think they were trying to follow me." You exclaimed. Milena's face went from curious to concern. "I'm not sure, it hasn't happened the past couple of days."

"Did you tell Mactavish about this?" She asked. You nodded. "What did he say about it?"

"To be cautious, and not give my address out." You said. Milena looked over the clipboard again, hovering her pen along the lines.

"You have an emergancy contact written down?" She asked, without looking up.

"I put Johnny, I hope that's okay." You said. Milena gave a silent nod.

"Just be sure to come and see me once you're sure everything is okay. If something happens we want to be able to get in touch with your family." Milena said, setting the clipboard down.

"I will. Do you need anything else?" You asked.

"No. That should be all." Milena said, still staring down at the desk. Her cellphone chimed, and she sighed.

"I'll head out then." You said, getting up. Milena gave a hafl hearted wave as she dialed her phone and put it to her ear.

Just before you stepped out you heard her say something along the lines of, "They're not done yet, I need more time."

As you stepped out a deliery driver stepped in, walking past you like you were an oversize door stop. Alright then. Little weird but whatever. Before spotting Johnny, you noticed the delivery. There was a guy standing nearby with a respirator over half of his face. He climbed into the back of the truck, raising the door. You noticed a lot of gas canisters inside. What were those for?

You heard yelling inside the portable. Shit. You reflexes kicked in and you went to the oppsite side of the portable, away from the job site and other workers. You could understand what was being said. It was too muffled and you were pretty sure it was Russian. Just in case, you took out your phone and took a photo of the truck, pressing against the side of the office. Something told you there might be a lawsuit coming or something like that. Couldn't hurt to take a pic of the truck, proof of delivery and all that. Once you had the photos, you went around the portable the long way, putting some distance between you and the situation.

You didn't show Johnny the photo. If Milena needed it, she would say something. You mentioned there had been an argument and delivery issue, but you weren't exactly sure.

"She's a busy woman. It 'appens." Johnny said. "She's probably fine, no doubt the others would give some asshole a piece of their mind."

You were satisfied with that. "By the way, I didn't ask you, but I figured it was okay. I put you down as my emergency contact."

Johnny looked at you and thought for a moment. "Alright."

"What?" You asked. "I could ask ehr to change it, I just figured it would be better than putting my mom or uncle. Mom has enough to deal with, and my uncle probably won't even pick up."

"Is fine." Johnny assured you. "Smart."

And the two of you left it at that.

"You're sure it was Konni Group?" Price asked again. Kyle sighed looking at the table with maps and lists and charts scattered around. Muscle memory led his hands to the edges of his tact vest, except there was none, so he settle for his hoodie pockets.

"They were careful. No positive IDs on any of them, no indication of affiliation, only that they kept looking around the parking lot. I couldn't stay in the lot for long before their own security asked what I was doing there." Kyle admitted. But come on, it had to be Konni Group. Who else would be watching Soap so closely? They needed proof it was Konni group though, otherwise they could go in half-assed, and have other groups on their asses. It could also be CIA or FBI, or even some stalkers.

"Does Soap suspect anything yet?" Ghost asked from the head of the table, arms folded.

"His fans? Possibly. Me? Well... he took a different route home one night " Kyle said.

The three men stood in silence, mulling over some options. Kyle wanted to just tell Soap everything and maybe get him to move. Then he would be safe while he recovered properly. Simon thought keeping Johnny in the dark was a bad plan. He needed to know his past, he needed to be back with them, where he belonged. To him, Johnny was a soldier and he needed to be one. More than once he'd seen Johnny sitting outside at night with his leg bouncing, or pacing in his living room. John, well, he was conflicted. On one hand he failed to save Soap, came too close to death. Soap deserved an easy rest. On the other hand, Soap was vital to the team and they were keeping him in the dark about everything, and forced to wait until Soap suddenly rediscovered himself. Even then there was no promise of him coming back. Price had built Johnny up into what he was, but that was when Soap was a soldier, a sniper and demo expert. Now Soap was Johnny. It was his choice to become Soap again.

"Right, in the mean time we focus on Konni group." Price said. "We have contacts to look out for as well. Let's not neglect them either."

More time passed, and you kept looking over your shoulder. Nothing. You started to let your guard down, as did Johnny. Something seemed to raise it back up for a split moment every now and then. Then you rationalized it as nothing more than circumstance. You'd get over it. You'd done self-defense classes before... not very many or recently but still.

You still had some nights of conspiracy at Johnny's place, more silly suggestions that seemed to lighten the gravity of the room. Other nights were spent at home, getting to lounge with your mom in front of the tv, usually when your uncle wasn't around. If he was, there was a game on, and you'd just sit and draw with your heaphones on. His cheers and shouting made you jump, but by now you were used to it. Any requests for him to quiet down were met with shooing gestures or his volume rising. Sometimes your mom would invite Johnny over to eat and stay to watch tv or to just chill in the living room. You liked seeing them get along. Your mom was happy with him around, and often asked about him. How was he, what is he up to, do you and him have anything planned?

Life seemed normal. A hint of wierd to it but it was normal for the most part. That's what it seemed like.

You were heading to Johnny's on foot with the rain pouring down. Your mom had to be out of town for a job interview, and you encouraged her to make it a small vacation for herself. Again, you were too young to be home by yourself for more than a couple of days and your uncles presence was never consistent. All you needed was a simple backpack as you had some clothes at Johnny's already.

As you walked a car passed by on the street. You recognized it. And the cap. You stopped for a moment to watch it go. Was he follo-no. You kept walking. Probably visiting a friend further in the neighbourhood or something. Carry on, don't worry about it. Everything is fine. You added a few skips to your stride, enjoying the peaceful pitter patter of the rain, pulling your hood down to let it soak your hair. Good day. It was a good day...

You were maybe two blocks away from Johnny's house when a car pulled up close to you, stopping maybe five feet away. You halted your stride. You couldn't make out a face in the tinted glass of the windshield but the maroon colour and size tipped you off. Everything seemed to slow down a bit, as the driver exited the vehicle. Your head kept telling you it was nothing, but you knew the car. You'd seen it before in the parking lot.

Options ran through your head as you crossed off each one. Scream? No your throat was too tight. Fight? As you saw more of the driver you knew it wasn't a good idea. Run home? He'd drive after you, and that was if he was following you. Smile and walk past? Yeah, easy target. Call the police? In front of him!?! The car door concealed his waist, you could see any weapons. Think fast, he's spotted you.

FUCK IT!

You broke into a run heading to the road and the opposite side of the car, towards Johnny's. You heard the man say something, but didn't listen. Your heart was pounding when you reached Johnny drive way. The driver was dangerously close, as you knocked on the door furiously. Johnny had the curtains closed, so he didn't see what was going on outside until he reached the door. Before he reached the door though, the driver reached you.

The driver was much larger and much more athletic, His arms grabbed you and attempted to pull you back away from the door. Panic hit hard as you struggled, thrashing and kicking like your life depended on it, which at the time, it did. The driver had put a rough hand over your mouth, attempting to reduce your alerts to Johnny. Dull nails dug into your cheek, as your tried to get your mouth on his hand. A car screeched to a stop behind you, but you barely heard it.

Just as Johnny opened the door and saw the scene, someone announced police, demanding the driver drop you. Johnny was quicker, punching your attacker in jaw, making him stumble. His grip loosened for only a second, which Johnny took full advantage of as he tore the driver's arms off of you, with a quick "come 'ere". Suddenly you were at his front door and behind him while he told you to go inside. The officer came up the drive way in that time, adding a stomp to the back of the driver leg, before pinning him to the ground.

The officer pulled out a cell and dialled 911 while Soap kicked the attacker in the side. "Sick fuck!"

"Sir, back off." The officer instructed. "Return inside."

Johnny went back inside quickly, and found you standing off to the side a couple of feet from the door, hugging yourself and tense. Yeah no fucking surprise there, you were probably in a mix of shock and a panic attack. You were staring at the door, the situation cropped out of the frame, only able to hear their grunts and harsh words, while your heavy breathing filled your ears. Johnny blocked your view and led you to his couch. "Sit down."

Your legs gave out under you, and you were caught by familiar cushions. Johnny got you through your panic attack, having you name things you could feel, smell, see and hear, while the officer dragged the driver away from the house and sat him on the curb.

"Can I touch ya?" Johnny asked. You nodded. "Take your coat off."

You did as he told you, and got your hoodie off too. Johnny reached out to your arms and you offered them. His hands were warm at least, so you didn't flinch away. He turned them over a little, checking for any marks or bruises. No doubt they would set in eventually, but for now they just felt sore. Your attacker had squeezed pretty tight, his large hand getting a good grip around your bicep when he grabbed you. Johnny told you to turn your head, to check your cheek. He winced at how deep the nails had gone into your skin. Any deeper or sharper, they would have broken skin. Johnny looked pissed, if it hadn't been for the officer you were pretty sure Johnny would give the driver the same treatment if not worse. Instead he got up and went to the kitchen retrieving a glass of water for you while he put the kettle on.

Soon enough, there were sirens and a couple cars pulled up. Johnny glanced outside, pulling the curtain back. The officer flagged the cars down, and spoke with the other cops. That's when Johnny had a moment to notice, that the officer who'd saved you, wasn't in uniform. Instead it was a blue hoodie and jeans. His vehicle wasn't a cop car, it was pedestrian. Johnny shoved his suspicions away for now. Another minute passed, and there was a knock at Johnny's door again. Johnny let the uniformed officer in and directed him to you.

"Are you the parent?" The officer asked.

"No." Johnny admitted. "Temporary guardian, her mother is out of town."

The officer then looked at you. "Would you prefer to have your mother present while we ask some questions?"

"Johnny's fine." You said in a small voice. The officer nodded and started to write down your statement. You did your best to answer his questions. You mentioned he might have been watching you for a while but you couldn't be sure.

"You're pretty fortunate that guy was driving by." The officer said once you finished. You looked up from picking at your fingers. Right, there was another outside.

You and Johnny shared a quick look. "Yeah... I am."

"He's still outside giving his statement if you want to talk to him." The officer offered. He gave both of you a nod and stepped out. Johnny told you to wait on the couch while he followed the officer outside. You remained sitting, pulling the blanket hanging on the back of the couch around your shoulders.

Johnny approached the man in the blue hoodie, who was getting soaked by the rain. He was talking to another couple of officers, too quiet to make out what they were saying. The man met Johnny's eyes, and faced him while the other cops dispersed. The driver was loaded into the car while Johnny looked the man over. Dark skin, light facial hair, blue hoodie, jeans, and his hood up.

"Thank you." Johnny said offering his hand to shake. "Johnny Mactavish."

The man looked a little stunned when Johnny introduced himself. Shit, he hadn't meant for this to happen, he only intended to help the kid. Fuck it. He returned the handshake, "Kyle Garrick."

"Got a light?"

"Smoking on the job Johnny?"

"Just blending in Lt."

Johnny blinked a few times. His head started to hurt again. Kyle noticed immediately. "You alright mate?"

"M'fine. Sorry." Johnny said quickly. "Who's the driver? He say anything?"

"Nah." Kyle said casually, watching the cop car drive off. "Probably just some creep. How's your kid?"

"Not mine. I'm looking after her." Johnny clarified. On one hand he didn't want to give anything away. He felt like he knew Kyle but couldn't place him. Kyle didn't remember him or he might be faking. Hell for all Johnny knew, Kyle had intended to make a move, but got interrupted. Regardless, Johnny wasn't sure who was the intended target. Best to keep things vague. "...Have we met?"

Kyle's calm expression looked like it had reset. Thing is, Kyle was only supposed to step in for emergencies. Interacting with Johnny was not part of the plan. The protocol was to take things casual, gauge how much Johnny might have recovered, and then dip. Kyle could remain calm, but this was complicated. If he told Johnny yes, then Kyle would be asked more questions. If Kyle tried to walk away or tell Johnny he isn't supposed to say more, no doubt Johnny would escalate. That was a given. Saying no, well if he did come back then that would be a very awkward restart to their work relationship. Fuck what was he supposed to say... fuck it.

"I've worked with a lot of people. Can't say if we have." He answered with a shrug. Definitely not a lie, but an equally vague response. "How is she?"

Johnny figured even a cop would keep his answers vague. Safety in secrecy. "Shaken."

"Understandable." Kyle said. He took out his phone. "I have to go. See you around."

And with that, the two parted ways like strangers.

When Johnny returned he went to get some pain meds, muttering to himself. You stayed on the couch, texting your mom to call you. No doubt she was going to come rushing back as soon as you told her. At least you weren't alone now.

"Should I call work?" You asked, looking over at Johnny. You saw him bracing himself against the kitchen sink. After you shrugged the blanket off, you went over to him, making small noises on your short path like bumping a chair and tapping the wall. Johnny had his eyes closed, like he was fighting a headache. You didn't touch him. You waited for him to change, or react. His jaw was clenched, and he was controlling his breathing. "Johnny?"

Another moment passed, and Johnny let out a small sigh, eyes opening and his body relaxing. After another sip of water, he noticed you were standing nearby. "That guy. I... I might know him."

"The one in the hoodie?" You asked. Johnny nodded standing up straight. "I've seen him around the neighbourhood a few times."

"He lives around here?" Johnny questioned. Could he have seen him in passing and nothing more? No, he'd had a moment of recollection. That was more.

"Just seen him driving." You said. You took a moment to think about it. How many civilians carried around cuffs? You saw him driving in the opposite direction as well. He could have looped around, but why? It was a little odd to call it coincidence. If he was someone watching Johnny, then did he know your attacker? "Maybe he's a cop. Like undercover."

"No cop car though." Johnny pointed out.

"I doubt undecover cops drive regular cop cars. Probably a ghost car."

"A what?"

"Ghost cars. They're essentially regular cars, but the inside has all the gear of a cop car." You explained. Great something else for Johnny to worry about. You carefully reached out and put a hand on Johnny's back. He was still a little tense. "What do you remember?"

"Short conversation... that guy, Kyle... shared a smoke."

"You smoke?"

"Rarely." Johnny said. You waited patiently for Johnny to process it all. "Your mom call yet?"

"No I-" As if on cue, your phone buzzed on the couch. You hurried over, and checked the caller. Not your mom. Your uncle. Great. "Uncle."

Johnny raised a brow as you answered. Your mom probably asked him to call you instead. He came over to listen to the conversation. "Hello? Uh... someone grabbed me on my way to Johnny's... The cops already came and arrested him... Yeah, I'm at Johnny's right now... No I'm fine. I already gave my statement... yes? ...I had Johnny with me, he's an adult... No he didn't say anything, I don't think he did... I wasn't paying attention..."

You went quiet at something your uncle said. You looked at Johnny for a moment, before replying. "No."

The call wrapped up, with your uncle saying you should have been more careful, or stayed home or something. Once the call ended, you just brushed it aside. There was one question that stuck in your head for a while.

"Did Johnny try to kill him?" You answered no.

"Fucking hell Gaz." Simon groaned.

"What was I supposed to do, let her get hurt?" Gaz argued, his head in his hands. He'd interacted with Johnny, and he had to tell his team. It meant he needed to avoid being spotted for a while.

"Soap would have taken care of it." Simon said. Price raised a hand to calm down the lieutenant.

"We don't know that." Price pointed out. "We know he has his instincts still intact. Fighting and hostage is another situation."

"He handled it." Gaz admitted.

"You made a judgement call sergeant. A risky one." Price said. Gaz may not be in the fire, but he was still simmering in the pan. "You gave nothing away?"

"He asked me if we had met, and I told him 'I work with a lot of people; can't say if I have,' and that was it." Kyle explained. Simon rolled his eyes. Kyle, the golden boy. Still being honest while incredibly vague.

"What about the attacker?" Price asked.

"I already gave the police Laswell's number." Kyle said.

"Right. Rest up." Price ordered. "We'll deal with the rest of this in the morning. No doubt Soap is gonna be on high alert now. It's time for the next step."

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @0wosugarmommymedic0wo @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @lolyouranelf @theotheronedotorg @yune1337

[rainbowrocketquotes]

LGBTQ+ Headcanons for Pride Month

Late as fuck but I've been Busy™ so uhh.

These are my opinions and they are subject to change! Feel free to dicsuss your own opinions in the replies but if y'all start arguing with each other in there I swear.

Giovanni

I dont know why but he and Ariana give off the vibes of that couple who have a joint sugar baby in a pseudo-polycule.

T4T silverspawn is my bread and butter but also I'm a multishipper so that ranges.

Imo he's either straight but an ally or a closeted bisexual that hides it behind allyship. We all know that guy.

Archie

Unlabelled. I don't make the rules, sorry. /j

No but on a serious note I think he just doesn't care to try and explain. He gives off the vibe of "guy who experimented heavily in college and kind of forgoes labels now" because he knows what he wants and he doesn't feel the need to try and define himself to other people.

I also am a fan of the trans Archie headcanons but I personally still don't see him labelling himself any which way in any regard tbf. He's just chill.

Maxie

Boykisser.

I don't really care which way he gets labeled most of the time but this guy likes men. Or at the very least he has definitely dated a man.

I don't really like the trans Maxie headcanon as much as some of the other trans headcanons for characters because I just feel like it buys too much into the common fandom tropes of "one member of popular ship must be afab and the other must he amab" with Hardenshipping being an incredibly popular ship, and "skinny white man = trans" being the most common trans headcanons. I'm not saying anyone who headcanons Maxie as trans is doing it for those reasons, and I have NO PROBLEM with people who headcanon Maxie as trans. Like, I'll still read fics and look at art where he is, and I don't mind it, I just don't like it personally for those reasons, and don't headcanon him as trans.

Cyrus

Abnormal views on gender/sexuality because of his time spent in the distortion world.

I personally don't think he cares what pronouns he's referred to by because he thinks it's a waste of time to correct people on something so trivial as a set of words, and he doesn't care how people percieve him.

In regards to sexuality, I also think he doesn't bother with labels, or really care about anything like that in general. I think he's probably on the asexual/aromantic spectrum, but it could also be interpreted as him just being closed off and weird like he is.

Personally I think if he bothered with labelling, he'd be Demiromantic. I'm not sure if he'd be cis or not but he probably still wouldn't care about pronouns or anything.

Ghetsis

Gay and homophobic /j

Honestly? I have no idea. I think he's probably very against the idea of wasting time with romance, especially in regards to what N is doing. But I don't think he'd be generally homophobic or transphobic. Probably just romancephobic /hj.

That's not to say I think he's necessarily on the ace spectrum, but I think he thinks he has better things to do. That he's against the idea of romance as an idea for the purposes of his ideals. He's a cult leader who wants to manipulate and use his son as a means to rule the world. He doesn't care what gender or sexuality N labels with, he just knows that by getting a partner he'd be straying from the plan he's trying to fulfill. Shrug.

Colress

I don't think he cares, but like in a different way than Archie doesn't care. I don't think he's explored his gender and sexuality enough to be comfortable forming his own opinion on how he identifies. He's scientific and needs proof one way or another, but won't actively go out and get the proof because he doesn't care that much. I.E., unlabelled. Doesn't care about his own pronouns.

Definitely is a "I assume you are bisexual until proven otherwise" truther, tho.

Lysandre

Very stereotypically flamboyantly gay, obviously, in the same vein as every Disney villain ever. I know I just said I don't fuck with stereotypes but not for this one. This idiot is home of sexual. Full stop.

Probably cis? But the kind of cis guy who would do drag for fun iykwim.

Guzma

Pan or Bi, 100%. Just screams sexual frustration like that. I physically cannot explain it but he just is.

Gender wise, I'm down with pretty much any headcanon for him. I think he's cis but cool with any pronouns in the way that a dude who is just comfortable in his masculinity is. Like if you call a guy who's normal "she" on accident he'll probably be like "haha, I'm a dude," and move on. That's Guzma.

Lusamine

Heteroromantic Bisexual. I cannot explain it, either, but she just gives me vibes.

"Every woman wanted to be a man at some point, Lillie, it's normal", and never elaborates. Probably Cis, but I'm squinting at her very hard.

I'm also cool with the transfem headcanons for her but sometimes people lean too far into the "trans people are always villains" thing and it gets... Weird!

! SURPRISE BONUS ROUND !

Rose

General cishet vibes from this guy, though I won't disregard any queer headcanons for him. I just think he and Oleana have some weird het situationship going on over there.

British /j

Volo

Some kind of gender something idk /ref

I don't know what he is but he definitely is not Cisgender and I can tell you that with confidence.

I think he's probably demiromantic or demisexual but I have a general feeling that he's somewhere on the ace spectrum. Idk if that's cliche or weird but I like this guy and I get vibes™ from him.

Also I know this is my Rainbow Rocket acount but I! Like Volo!! Contrary to popular belief!!! Legends Arceus is one of my favourite pkmn games.

Sada

Still have not finished Scarvi!! But she's bi. Have you seen her? She's bi.

I wouldn't mind a t4t headcanon with her and her husband but I don't outright hc her as transfem. I might, once I finish the game, tho.

Turo

Once again have still not finished Scarvi! But he's also Bi. Maybe homoromantic or demi on the side, but he definitely is Bi.

Might be a flavor of nonbinary, but that could just be the vibes I get from his weird little cunty outfit.

[unity24675]

From Brothers to Brothers in Unity

Nicholas and Connor could not have been more different growing up. Nicholas, 4 years older, was a straight A student and captain of the lacrosse team. He always seemed to succeed at anything he tried. Connor grew up in his brother's shadow and resented his brother's success. He was always treated as second best, so at a certain point, Connor gave up on trying. He dropped out of school, refused to get a job, and spent all day playing video games. When he turned 19, he was kicked out of his parent's house. He had no where to go, until he got a call from his brother, "Come stay with me, brother. It's time we worked things out."

Connor moved the few things he had and moved to his brother's apartment. Connor had not seen his brother in about five years since Nicholas went away to college. He figured his brother would have changed, but he was not prepared for what he saw.

"Connor, so glad to see you again, brother. It's been too long!" Nicholas hugged Connor as he entered his apartment. Nicholas was wearing some kind of uniform. He had a white shirt and black tie under navy blue coveralls. A number was on his chest, 185012, and the word Unity in big bold letters.

"Nicholas? What's with the get up? You working at a garage or something?" Connor tried to hide his excitement at the thought that his straight A brother was working as a mechanic.

"No, no! I am a brother of Unity. And I don't go by Nicholas anymore," the older brother pointed to the number on his coveralls. "My designation is 185012. Please, call me that."

Connor ignored his brother's sincere smile and rolled his eyes, "Sure thing, 185-whatever." Connor made sure to see his brother's smirk falter, but the older brother's face stayed a smile.

What's his deal? Wearing that crazy uniform and going by a number? And what the hell is Unity?

The first few weeks at his brother's apartment looked no different than back home. Connor never tried to find work, didn't cook or clean, and just played video games on the couch. 185012 never stopped smiling though. He knew his brother had potential and he knew how to guide him there.

One day, 185012 walked in the living room and turned off Connor's game.

"What the hell, Nicholas!?" Connor cried out.

Nicholas sat down by his brother and pointed to his coveralls, "It's 185012 now. But I figure I need to explain more about that."

Connor squirmed. He was lectured his whole life about why he should be more like his brother, and now the man himself was doing the honors. Yet, he couldn't help but listen. After all, he did want to learn what was up with this weird Unity thing.

"You don't know this, Connor, but when I left for college, I wasn't as successful as I thought I was going to be. I struggled a lot. I went from top of my class to just another face. Back home, everyone knew Nicholas "star athlete", but at college, I was nobody."

Connor's sour face softened. He never heard about any of this and certainly didn't think it was possible for his brother to struggle at anything. He didn't even notice as he leaned in to hear more.

"I considered dropping out, but I couldn't stand the shame of letting down mom and dad, all my friends back home, and honestly, letting down you, Connor."

"Me? But I was always a fuck up compared to you," Connor said, flabbergasted. He thought he wasn't even a blip on his brother's radar.

"I realized then that I never stood up for you. When our parents praised me and ignored you, I let it slide. When I saw you struggle, I didn't do anything. And now I was in the same situation. Until I found Unity. Unity found me at just the right time. I made friends, brothers, who had my back. I started wearing his uniform. I let go of Nicholas and all the baggage that came with that name and become 185012."

The older brother reached behind him and pulled out a navy blue coverall, the word UNITY stitched on the right chest.

"When I joined Unity, I pledged to uplift other men. To help others find the clarity that my brothers gave me. In Unity I realized I couldn't compare myself to other people's expectations. I had to work hard for myself, and in doing so I wanted to make my brothers proud."

185012 placed the coveralls into Connor's hand, "And I want to make you proud, brother."

Connor was speechless. His perfect older brother wanted to make him proud? Was this still real life?

185012 stood up. "I won't force you to do anything Connor. Unity is for willing men only. I just needed to share that with you. And I mean it. Unity is here to support you and guide you. All you need to do is take our hand. I'll leave these coveralls in your room. If you don't want them, just give them back."

Connor was left alone on the couch for the rest of the day, but he didn't turn his game back on. What Nicholas, no, what 185012 said struck a chord. Connor had always compared himself to other people's expectations. He gave up before even making his own goals. He had to step up.

As Connor headed up to his room later, the word Unity was stuck in his mind. What did it really mean to have a brother? A whole brotherhood even? He entered his room and sure enough, 185012 had left the Unity uniform lying on his bed.

Connor picked up the coveralls. They were heavy, heavier than he expected at least. And sturdy too. Reliable in a tough situation, thought Connor. Did I just say that? He laughed to himself, but he couldn't stop feeling the uniform. His fingers traced the word UNITY on the chest. He even held the coveralls up against him, imagining how it might feel to wear them. Then he imagined how it might feel to wear them with his brother. Would he get a number too?

He wordlessly slipped on the coveralls, right over his band t-shirt. He let out a happy gasp as the coveralls came over his shoulder, and then again when he zipped up the front. He didn't look quite like his brother without the shirt and tie, but the word UNITY felt like a badge of honor.

Connor felt a sudden urge to show his brother. His whole life they only ever grew further apart, but now this was his chance to change things. In his coveralls, he knocked on his brother's door. 185012 opened up and immediately smiled.

"Nic-I mean, 185012. I'm sorry I always resented you. I let others' expectations keep me down. I want that to change. I want to step up. I want get to know you and really be your brother," Connor placed a hand over the word on his chest. "And your Unity brother."

Without a word, 185012 took Connor into his arms. The two brothers, both clad in coveralls, stood together for minutes, just feeling the power of Unity between them. Eventually 185012 let go and looked his brother in the eyes.

"Hail Unity."

As if by instinct, Connor replied, "Hail Unity."

The next day 185012 took Connor to the Unity Center to get fully inducted. Connor received his official coveralls and his designation, 188663. With the help of his brother (in many senses of that word), 188663 signed up for Unity re-education courses to better learn how to set and achieve goals as a Unity brother. He met other brothers clad in the same uniform. He had even applied to a job as a janitor at the Unity Center.

188663 and 185012 were now inseparable. They were not just brothers but brothers un Unity. Thanks to Unity, they were able to reconcile and realize they could change the world by helping others who struggled like they had. They had both realized that by working hard and finding a purpose could never lead to disappointment if they had each other and their brothers to help pick them up when they fell.

[kell-5]

Wing's secret

Warning: romantic content, mild jealousy, hint of a more intimate moment, gender-neutral reader, possible spelling and lexical errors

addressing : you, your, yours, they, their

Character: Wing x reader

____________________________________________

The Crystal City glowed, as always, in cool shades of blue, but your heart was hot with tension. You, the Archivist of the Circle of Light, were sorting through old archives when you came across the unexpected - Wing's holorecord, hidden among the training reports.

He started playing and his voice was usually calm, it sounded gentle and thoughtful

"I will never forget you. You were my continuation, my strength.." - the audio holorecording sounded

You didn't immediately understand who he was talking about, as a thought occurred to your processor, what if he was talking about his ex-partner, you thought it would be worth asking him who this "continuation" was, you weren't one of those who gets jealous, since you trust Wing, but now you felt a slight twinge of this jealousy, you were interested in how often he mentioned his ex, your fingers squeezed this recording, but you loosened your fingers in time so as not to break the datapad, you exhaled trying to calm down.

Suddenly the door to the archive opened, you threw the record away with a serious face and continued sorting through other datapads, the one who entered was none other than Wing

"Are you busy?" His voice was calm, but his optics were meticulously studying your servo wires, which were too quickly translating the datapad to "deferred"

You didn't look up, but your energetic movement of the servo wire betrayed your confusion.

"Yes. Archiving. Usual work"

He came closer, you didn't move from your place, so as not to show your embarrassment even more, your optician looked for a moment at the drawer of your desk where the record was, and immediately returned to her task, sorting the datapads

"You are so diligent with me" he tilted his steering wheel, his voice was warm, and curiosity played in the optician "found anything important?"

If you could sweat you would be covered in sweat in an instant, you didn't plan on talking to him about it right now so you forced out while still trying to keep a serious tone

"No"

Silence

Wing reached out the servo cable - not to you, but to the nearest rack and took a random datapad

"Then ....I won't interfere" he diverted the datapad in the servo cable, but his gaze slid to your table "if you need.... help ..."

You had to run, or confess, or ....

"...Maybe it's time for a snack?" You stood up, locking the necklace

Wing looked at you in surprise, then laughed quietly

"Snack?" He put the datapad back in place "okay."

......

Crystal Bridge. Circle of Light Training Hall.

Wing stood in the middle of the hall, his sword gleaming in the cold light of the crystal walls. He was sharpening the blade—not because it was dull, but because the routine helped to organize his thoughts.

He knows that his Conjunx Endura, the archivist, but today they were very tense, it was noticeable in their gestures, the way they tried to hide their emotions under seriousness.

Wing already guessed that they had found something in his past, nothing shameful, but there were things he did not talk about.

...

You thought about how best to ask Wing about what you had seen and heard.

So a little later you went to the training room, where Wing was. Wing had just finished another training session, he turned around as he heard someone enter the training room, Wing smiled at you.

You came closer

"Aren't I distracting you?" You asked

"Not anymore" his calm, light smile was still on his face

"Wing ....I have a question.."

"I'm listening to you, worldspark"

"Did you have someone before me?" You asked a little innocently

.

.

.

You looked at Wing in anticipation, you held the datapad you found behind your back in the servo wires.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, did you have someone before me?" You asked more directly, you showed the datapad and gave it to Wing

Wing watched the recording again, but to the end where it said that he was talking about a sword, and you didn't have time to watch it to the end, your optics widened from understanding how you looked

"Sweetiapark I was talking about a sword" Wing smiled looking at you, his smile still remained light

"What? Really?" You were surprised and didn't know where to go from shame, because you started to be jealous of Wing for his "ex" who turned out to be a sword, if you could your face plates would be very, very red

"You were jealous of me for a sword?"

"... A sword? A sword?!" Your processor froze for a second. If there was a way to get through the ground, you would have used it.

Silence. Even the hum of the fans seemed too loud.

You stared at the floor, where your fingerprint was already starting to burn out in shame.

“It was... an emotional breakdown,” you whispered, quite ready to disappear.

Wing put a hand on your shoulder:

“Flame, if you had watched the recording...” He turned on the hologram - the image of the blade appeared in the air. “...you would have known that I would never trade you for a weapon.”

Pause. Then - his eyes flashed:

“Although it did look good in my hands.”

You pushed him desperately in the chest, but Wing was already laughing, pulling you closer.

Shame turned to something warm as Wing held your servo, his fingers sliding over your wrist.

“You know…” his voice was low, on the verge of irony and tenderness. “If I were to truly compare you to a sword, it would only be because you are the only one who can break me.”

You were getting excited, but he didn’t let you say a word. His lips stopped a moment before touching, deliberately provoking:

“Say, flame… Do you really want me to stop joking?”

“No.”

Your response was instant. You gripped his shoulders, finally closing that damn distance.

The kiss was passionate and hot, so hot that your cooling systems had raised their activity level to mid-level.

Wing's digits traced the contours of your details on your waist, studying them and memorizing what they felt like.

After the kiss, he looked at you and smiled his usual smile, but there was a faint tenderness in the smile.

"Here... too open," you whispered, feeling his energy field hum at a low frequency.

Wing stifled a laugh in your neck module:

"You know the rule if no one sees the violation, it doesn't exist."

Suddenly, footsteps in the hallway.

You fell to the floor in a perfect battle roll, pretending to practice dodging. Wing stood above you with his sword as if demonstrating a technique.

The door opened. Dai Atlas froze in the doorway.

"Are you... training?" his voice was full of suspicion.

Wing calmly lowered his blade: "Yes. Yesterday the flamethrower lost to me at chess. Today he's working off his debts."

When Dai Atlas left, Wing opened a hidden equipment compartment, cramped but large enough for two.

"No one will find us here," his voice merged with the rustle of the ventilation system.

You felt his fingers find the sync connector on your back:

"You're not against unconventional training, are you?"

Your answer disappeared into his mouth module.

————————————————————————

(this was supposed to be a short fic, but whatever, I'm happy with the result)

(English not my native language)

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

Hiii im back🙈👀 I was wondering if I could get another chibs fic🤣🙈 im a told chibs slut🤣🤣😍😍😏 I was thinking all day what if reader and chibs are like friends with benefits and shes Gemmas assistant or a fill in Gemma when shes not there and chibs plays it cool but you guys recently started hooking up and no one knows and she goes home to her place and chibs is already there and she didn't knoe and they start making out and being all cuddly and and gettinf things going anf then the new prospect (who can't take a hint that you don't like him bc hes too cocky) starts knocking and she answers and hes flirting and shes jusr like " im busy i havr tk go" and he keeps talking anf chibs walks up and just stares at him and nods for him to go👀😫😫😫😍😍😍 idk just something I've thought about all day😫😫😫🤣🤣🤣

Another amazing request, indeed! thank you for sending it to me! again, I tried my best to sum all the information up and wrote the fic asap

I hope you like it! 😊☝🖤

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

"COME HERE, SWEETHEART"

Gemma had hired you to manage the TM's accounts.

Since she spent a lot of time looking after the children while Tara was at St. Thomas's, she'd left the money-related tasks to you, such as collections, payments, and other transactions involving money.

You were organizing the stacks of bills in the safe when you saw someone parking a Harley in its designated spot out of the corner of your eye.

The driver got out of the vehicle and headed towards you as soon as he saw you.

You raised your head to bump into the figure of Chibs.

You and the Scotsman had a somewhat peculiar relationship.

The first day you came to work at the shop, Gemma introduced you to the guys, and since then, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off you.

At first, he was very nice to you.

He helped you with anything you needed and was always making sure you didn't lack anything.

As the weeks went by, this all became more complicated, until you were finally doing it anywhere, on any surface.

From the first time he tried you, Chibs needed you near him all the time, as if you were a drug for which there was no cure.

Several times, when he saw you finishing up with a client who was leaving, he would nod at you to the chapel to come when you were finished, using the excuse that he had to talk, which wasn't true.

In the end, you were both exhausted, sweating, and having serious trouble hiding what had happened from your children.

No one knew about your encounters.

Jax knew there was something going on between you because of the intense glances Chibs gave you from time to time, but he never said anything.

He assumed it was something that belonged to the two of you, and that he had no business getting involved.

That day, you had agreed to meet at your house after work.

Sometimes you two would do that: he'd leave first on his motorcycle, and you'd wait ten minutes and follow in your car.

When you arrived and parked your car next to the house, your hands were itching from how nervous you were.

You gripped the doorknob and pushed it open.

Chibs was already there, just as you'd agreed, both arms resting on the sides of the couch and a lopsided smile on his lips.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered. "You don't know how much I've missed you today." He murmured, motioning with his index finger for you to come closer. "Come here."

You obeyed and stood in front of him.

He looked at you for a few moments, as if you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, before placing his hands on your hips and guiding you down so you were sitting on his lap.

A gasp escaped your lips when you felt him against your most sensitive area, despite the pants you were wearing.

"Do you feel it, love?" he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I've been hard all day because of you," he growled, making you nervously shift on top of him. "These pants…" he murmured, running his hands over them. "Where did you get them?"

"Do you like them?" you asked timidly. "I bought them when Gemma gave me my first paycheck." You smiled. "I always said that as soon as I had money, I would buy them."

"I love how they look on you," he affirmed, playing with the zipper of the garment. "But I think they would look prettier on the floor." He smiled, giving me a mischievous smile. "What do you say, princess?"

"I'd say I agree with you," you murmured, mimicking his gesture.

The Scotsman leaned in to kiss you, his mouth, as always, moving eagerly over yours, as if no matter how many times he'd kissed you, he always needed more.

You brought your hands to either side of his face to deepen the kiss, causing you both to gasp into each other's mouths.

Chibs tugged at your lower lip between his teeth, causing you to let out a moan that was quickly replaced by a groan as he began to pull down your pants.

And at that moment, there was a knock at the door.

An exasperated grunt escaped Chibs's lips, and he gave you one last kiss before resting his forehead against yours.

"Fuck, this has got to be a fucking joke," he complained, causing you to give an amused smile. "Are you expecting someone?"

"No, just you," you smiled before getting up from her lap and combing your hair a little with your fingers. "I'll go see who it is, I won't be long," you promised, heading for the door.

When you opened it, you didn't expect to find the person standing there.

The new prospect of the sons watched you closely for a few moments.

Ever since you started working for Gemma, you'd noticed how his eyes followed you around the workshop, and how he always seemed to be doing anything to get your attention.

You weren't sure if he liked you or if he was just one of those people you talk to and seem to be flirting with you all the time, even if he didn't mean to.

You watched him from above, just like he had, before speaking.

"What are you doing here?" you asked politely.

"I saw you leave the TM faster than usual," he explained. "I just wanted to make sure you got home safely, and that no one had kidnapped you, you know," he whispered, winking at you.

"Very funny, prospect," you murmured, crossing your arms over your chest. "Well, as you can see, I got home in one piece, so…"

"Yeah, right," he whispered. "You look beautiful tonight," he blurted out. "Well, actually, you always do."

At that instant, you felt Chibs' presence behind you.

He leaned against the doorframe beside you, staring at the rookie, and he did the same.

He didn't need to say anything; with a simple nod, the boy understood it was time to go.

Without a word, he hopped on his motorcycle and disappeared down the road as quickly as he'd arrived.

"There was no need to scare the poor kid," you said, laughing as you closed the door.

"That 'poor kid,' as you call him, interrupted the moment I was having with my girl," he whispered, placing his hands on your waist to pull you back towards him. "Nobody does that"

[serenadeonacanoe]

Untitled, 2025 (GD x OFC) Chapter 7: March 25th

Pairing: G-Dragon/Kwon Jiyong x OFC Genre/Warnings: Slow Burn, Tour Life, fluffyfluff, yearning, eventual smut, 2014 ==> 2020 ==> 2025.

It’s 2025 and the King of K-Pop is back. He and his music are everywhere. On the charts, all over social media and smack in the middle of Maddie’s work schedule. Sometimes she still can’t believe this is her actual job now - documenting the chaos behind the scenes and trying to make sure no one on his team gets lost, bruised or accidentally starts a viral scandal.

What’s even harder to believe? That she and Jiyong met five years ago. Actually… scratch that. They met ten years ago too. Time has a weird sense of humor like that and things get blurry when you’re busy, nostalgic, and maybe just a little bit smitten. Also, life throws more daisies your way than you’d expect.

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6

More on AO3 —————————————–

Summer 2014

The sky looks too cheerful for how I feel. Blue, sunny, a few lazy clouds. Birds are chirping. It’s offensively peaceful for a day full of hangovers. I’m standing by the gravel driveway, sunglasses on, hoodie up, suitcase beside me like I can’t wait to leave and… well yeah, I really can’t wait to leave. Everyone’s pretending to be fine after last night’s party. Maybe they are, but it smells like old beer and regret here.

I’m not mad. Just ready to go. “Hey, Daisy.” I turn. It’s Jiyong. Of course. He's holding a coffee cup like a prize. Sweater hood pulled low, hair underneath a mess, tired. Still looks too good for someone who should probably be hiding from the world. “You leaving without saying goodbye?” he asks, voice all smooth like this is charming, like it’s a joke. I blink. He smirks. I hate that it still does things to me.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.” “Oh wow. You really just said that?” He shrugs. “You’re not mad?” he asks, stepping a little closer. “No” I say honestly. “Just not impressed.”

He tips his head like that’s new information. Like I’m supposed to be flattered he’s even here talking to me. I can tell he’s still drunk. Or maybe that’s just who he is. His smile falters. Just for a second. But he catches himself and goes back to grinning like this is still salvageable.

That’s when Daesung walks past us with a huge plastic bottle of water. “You two flirt way less sexy in daylight” he says without stopping. “We’re not flirting.” I call out after him. Jiyong raises an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself.”

And that is when I walk away. Not fast. Not dramatically. Just done. I’ve got a train to catch and enough dignity left to not waste another breath on him. Still… in the car, on the ride to the station, head resting against the window, I find myself replaying the look on his face. That tiny crack in his confidence. That moment where maybe - just maybe - he didn’t have it all together. Not that it changes anything. But it lingers a little.

March 2025

It’s the 25th. The album is out. Übermensch is here. A couple of days have passed since that snowy walk but it feels like a lifetime ago.

We’ve seen each other nearly every day since - at work. Surrounded by people. Surrounded by deadlines. Surrounded by too much caffeine and not enough sleep. Everyone is exhausted in that giddy, running-on-adrenaline kind of way. No one has time to breathe. Let alone flirt.

We’ve texted. Brief little things. Updates. Memes. One photo of one of his cats. Nothing romantic. Nothing that said hey, remember how we kissed like our lives depended on it?

It’s fine. We’re fine. I’m not spiraling. Okay. I might be spiraling just a bit.

I didn’t want to be of course and at first I didn’t even want to admit it, but fuck. It’s always in the back of my head.

The worst part is he seems normal. Not cold. Just… busy. Charming to everyone, polite to me. A couple of long glances across meeting rooms, but nothing that lands. I start to wonder if I made it bigger in my head than it was. Maybe it was the snow. Maybe he felt something for five minutes and then went back to being whoever he is now. A pop star with a schedule that has its own gravitational pull. I tell myself not to take it personally.

The day comes and goes. Some of it - a lot of it actually - feels like a dream. Hard to grasp, in a way, because we worked so long and hard on this album. It’s hard to believe it’s finally here, people are listening.

Tonight is the album release party at a swanky venue downtown and I was hoping to enjoy the night but I still feel so much pressure when I get ready. This is still work after all. Maybe come tomorrow it will get better? Or will we forever run after the next thing and then the next thing… Or am I just being anxious because of everything?

When I arrive it feels good… but at the same time I disappear into the background. There are so many people I know and so many I know of. Pictures are being taken and flashes illuminate the otherwise dark red-tinted room. Is this a party? Or just the photo op of a party?

I sigh at myself. What did I expect.

Well… at least a pretty tight hug.

Instead I try to at least have a good time.

It’s after midnight and I am standing in a hallway toward the back entrance of the venue. I needed a quieter moment, a strong coffee and a moment to lean against this table after dancing for quite a while. My feet hurt. My voice is hoarse. A part of me wishes I was drunker. Another just wants to go to bed. And a third one wishes I wasn’t thinking about Ji.

Of course it’s hard not to. I’ve seen him all night. Deep down I know I’m being hard on myself but what can you do.

Daesung walks past me toward the exit, probably to sneak a smoke outside and grins wide at me. I know that grin. He’s trying to make me smile as well because he can tell I am not a hundred percent, he is good at that. The sound of his footsteps gets me out of my thoughts. I check my phone once he’s gone and wonder whether I should just go home. My duties for today are done done done.

That’s when a second pair of footsteps comes up, much quieter and not quite as startling anymore.

When I look up, Jiyong has already walked up next to me. He’s now also leaning against the table and just props his chin onto my shoulder, pretending to look at my phone with me. A hesitant smile from him. Then me smiling as well.

My heart is about to explode. I feel… shy and somewhat relieved. Confused but happy. It’s a lot. “Hi,” he says, looking up. He doesn’t move away. Still leans over at me, but now we’re on eye level. “Hi.”

For a second we just… look at each other.

It’s strange how familiar he feels and also how much space we’ve let grow between us the last few days.

“I’ve been hoping to catch you alone all day. Several days actually.”

Mad, almost concerning, how these two sentences from him make all that spiraling disappear for a moment. Thank fucking god. I wasn’t alone in this. Well, I was. But we were on the same page. Just not together, unfortunately.

“Busy. I get it,” I answer, trying to be casual for some reason, pretty sure that my face gives me away anyway. To be honest, I have no idea why I say that. It’s stupid.

He nods. Then adds, almost shyly “I couldn’t stop thinking about you though.”

I swallow, look down at the steam from my coffee cup. Then I sigh all my relief away and now I’m the one who lets her head fall to his shoulder.

Ji moves an arm around my back and puts his cheek to my head and we just stand there for a second.

There are so many things I want to say but now that I have the chance my head is so empty. I just want to be here with him… quiet for a moment. And so we are.

Until I finally break away to look into his eyes again.

“I hope… I really hope this album does as well as it deserves. Like… you deserve. I hope people appreciate it because…”

Why am I getting teary-eyed. I haven’t even expressed what I mean. That I’m proud of him. That he doesn’t need the praise but I still hope he gets it because the music is so great and every stupid little detail and… I’m tired but happy now and… too many words. Too little at the same time, so I stop and stand there with slightly open mouth.

He just looks at me and presses his lips together. Raises one hand to gently let the side of his thumb glide across my temple. Nods slowly a couple of times, as if to say It’s okay, I get it. And I think he really does.

I take another deep breath and then I just hug him. That might be reckless but I don’t care, because finally, the pressure is gone. All of it. Work and the stupid questions in my head. Nothing is clear yet, but I think there is nothing I can do.

Of course that is when Daesung appears again, muttering curse words and something about “nobody has lighters anymore these days.”

But he stops right away, mid-sentence, mid-step and starts grinning when he sees us. Makes another four steps until he is right next to us. Throws his arms around both of us at once like we’re in a sitcom.

“OH… my gawd” he practically shouts. “You guys are totally fucking.”

I almost choke. Jiyong makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “We’re not,” I manage. “Yet” Jiyong adds under his breath.

Daesung gasps like he just won a prize. Gossip Gold, basically. “I KNEW IT” he announces to absolutely no one. “Oh this is crazy, I can’t believe you finally… oh wow.” Then he bounds off again, still laughing. I panic for a second before I realize that whatever this is is safe with him. He loves gossip but he’s been doing this for long enough.

We’re left blinking. Jiyong looks at me with wide, amused eyes. “Well… that’s one way to get found out.” I nod, laughing into my cup before I take another sip.

And just like that, everything that was heavy lifts. Not everything is fixed. Not everything is said. But we’re back in orbit.

Jiyong shifts just a little closer. Not obvious. But close enough that I can feel the warmth of his hand brushing against mine. And then, gently, deliberately, his fingers slip into the space between mine. I glance down like my hand suddenly belongs to someone else. His thumb grazes mine once. Just once. And I swear to god it short-circuits something in my chest. I look up at him. He’s still smiling, but softer now. Like we’re in a bubble and he knows it. His hand tightens just slightly around mine.

Then I start smirking because I just remembered that... “So… yet? We aren’t fucking yet?” He audibly sucks in some air, rolls his eyes and is actually a tiny bit embarrassed, I can tell. But there is also a hint of a mischievous smile on his lips and the combination of all that is so intoxicating.

Instead of saying anything he moves both arms back around my waist and rests his face back against my collarbone. His currently very green hair is tickling me a little and I move one arm around his back, the other to the back of his head. Let my fingers glide into his (well, a little crispy) hair. For a second I close my eyes while there is the biggest smile on my face. I am so goddamn happy.

It’s a short moment that could have ended quite badly. We got luckier than we probabyl deserved there. So in the end that is all it is. A few minutes of hugging and shared silence. We return to the party hesitantly but both know it’s better that way.

By the time I get home, my cheeks are still warm. It’s the alcohol and the fact that it’s still really cold outside. 

But it’s the hand-holding. It’s the yet. It’s how much lighter I feel compared to a couple of hours ago.

I kick off my shoes, toss my coat on the back of the chair and lean against the wall for a second, just breathing. The city is quiet outside my window. My phone is still in my hand. I stare at the screen, thumb hovering, considering. Maybe I’ll just send a goodnight. Something chill. Something casual and completely non-deranged like hey hope you made it home safe and also I’m still thinking about your hand in mine and my brain’s made of fireworks now ok cool sleep tight.

Before I can type anything, my phone buzzes.

Jiyong: made it home, you there yet? Jiyong: you looked really pretty tonight btw

I smile so hard it hurts.

Me: same Me: home I mean Me: but also… thanks Me: you didn’t look too bad either Me: for someone emotionally attacked by daesung

Jiyong: tragic

Me: he might have printed shirts already Me: there might be a shipping name

Jiyong: might take me years to recover Jiyong: unless you and I can hang out again sometime soon Jiyong: that might help Jiyong: just us this time

I bite my lip. Consider typing something witty, but then don’t. What he wrote didn’t make much sense, but I am so glad he asked.

Me: I’d like that

I beam. Alone in my apartment. At my phone. Like an idiot. But not really an idiot. I am not an idiot. I am just fucking smitten. Why be unkind to myself about that. It feels amazing.

Me: Soon?

Jiyong: Yes please Jiyong: Sleep tight, Dais.

[somboreking770]

This is making so much sense.

I was thinking for a while about if Willam was after Edwins company from the beginning, and this just proves I was right!!!

When I read and heard about certain happenings in SOTM, I started to see a pattern.

1: Willam is often the only one who contacted Edwin over the mail system, often about things like changes for the animatronics and their designs. (Maybe I'm wrong and Henry does talk to Edwin over the mail system.)

2: Willam is often undermining and controlling things behind Edwins back, stealing workers, taking ideas, changing things, stuff like that. (It is shown that Willam and Fazbear Entertainment were often trying to steal workers from MCM when FE was working with Edwin for projects like the Fazbear Project.)

3: Willam hired a spy, or multiple spies, to work in MCM to gather intell and secure information for FE to use, this is how FE learned about the creation and the use of M1 Edwin tried to hide and keep secret. (When Willam found out, he seen this as a opportunity to make and save money by having endoskeletons that can be any animatronic mascot for cheap, this meaning that FE could just steal this idea and cut Edwin from the team and steal his assets.)

4: Willam used his knowledge and power to slowly ruin Edwins life and steal his company, starting with the things he cared most of all, his family.

I believe that the Fall Fest fire wasn't an accident, I think it was a purposeful cover up to murder Fiona by Fazbear Entertainment. We don't know exactly why Finona had to go for the set up of Fall Fest, but she said she felt something would go wrong if she wasn't there, this eventually lead to her death in the fire.

I have a small theory about why she went, other than her 'feeling', I believe she was threatened by Willam into going because of some sort of blackmail or threats of harm of her family and her child. After Finonas death, this was the first domino Willam set up to fall, which caused the rest to fall into place.

5: As Edwins life slowly fell apart, Willam set up the next accident, this being David's death. This is where I have another theory, I believe Fazbear Entertainment also caused the death of David.

This accident was using the mistake of Edwins, the bad location of David's small playground around the loading bay, this could easily be used as a car accident.

6: After both deaths, William would force MCM to bankruptcy and steal the company from Edwin, also stealing his house and the rights to M2

My idea is that Fazber Entertainment had ulterior motives from the beginning, and they set up the fall of MCM and Edwin from the start.

We don't know if Henry Emily was in cahoots with Willams plan to systematically destroy Edwins life and company, but he did just stand by and watch a good man be ruined and broken down. This eventually comes back to Henry when Willam trys to ruin Henry's life as well, with the murder of his daughter and blaming the MCI on Hnery as well.

(All this karma comes back to bite Willam in the ass in the end when the children he killed come together and kill him, his son and old best friend burn him to death, and the vengeful Cassidy tortures him for eternity in hell.)

... Guys. Wasn't it a van that hit David Murray when he died?

Wasn't the van in that story white?

I could have sworn it was white. Why is that Fazbear Entertainment van toy white?

Why is the van we see in-game - and as a sticker here - blue?

Why is the other van white??

DO YOU SEE THE IMPLICATIONS POSSIBLY BEING MADE HERE???

[bereft-of-frogs]

I don’t think anyone will ever be able to accuse me of writing solely for popularity.

If I was doing that I would stop coming up with so many ideas that relied on a non-chronological order structure :D

Got another one to add to the list :D