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sukirichi · 3 years

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earned it [04]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. DARK CONTENT, graphic violence, mentions of blood, explicit murder, sexual violence, angst, tw dubcon, mentions of mass murder, death threats, cheating, implications of suicide, typical mafia business + very unedited (please PLEASE read at your own discretion! if you do not wish to proceed to read because of the aforementioned warnings but want to know what happened anyway, please drop into my asks and i’ll retell it in a much less graphic version!)

chapter song. never forget you (zara larsson, mnek)

series masterlist

Death.

The stench of it reeked everywhere. Blood pooled at the ends of your dress, the warm liquid dripping from your fingers. You couldn’t see what was in front of you, not when your vision had been obscured black, painted red with everyone’s lifeless eyes staring back emptily at you and carrying an ominous message behind words that never had the chance to be spoken.

Satoru was gone.

You ran through flights of stairs as you bunched your dress up, dried blood present on your cheek. The gray cemented walls of this unknown building began to close down on you, suffocating you, trapping you – and then there he was. Your lover, your world, your everything – he stood on top of a pile of bodies, his face as grim as the deaths he’s caused, but that wasn’t what stood out from the scene. It was the fact you couldn’t recognize him anymore; the man before you was nothing else but the devil incarnate himself. Then, just as you ran his way, fingers outstretched to grasp at his shirt, Satoru disappeared.

He was gone.

A scream ripped out your throat as you scrambled for the sheets, pulling them up in a haste to shield yourself. The images were now gone, but that fear kept drumming into you, gloops of blood making its way through your room’s white exterior.

It’s not real, it’s not real – Satoru’s arms snaked over to your side, his eyes droopy from being woken up. You would’ve apologized, knowing he never really got proper sleep, but you were already wrapping your arms around yourself, gaze repeatedly darting back to the walls – to check for bodies, for blood, for death, for him.

“Hey,” Satoru drew you close to him until your head fell on his chest. Out of instinct, you flattened your ear above where his heartbeat rested. Thump thump – he was real, he was safe, alive – he wouldn’t do that. Satoru wasn’t that kind of person. You clung to him like a koala and mumbled incoherently at the skin of his neck, clutching his shirt so tight it wrinkled horribly. Satoru merely littered kisses all over the crown of your head to soothe you, although he was not free to this fear you felt; he was just as nervous for an unknown reason. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

“You-you were leaving—”

“Shh, angel, I’m not, I’m here,” he wrapped you closer to his body, the sheets still warm and smelling like him as if to add reassurance to his words. “You’re alright. I’m here, angel, it’s okay.”

“I was going to die,” you quivered. It had only been a fleeting moment when you saw it, but you were there too. Dressed in white, arms covered in lace and a crown adorning your head; it seemed as if you were meant to be on top of the bodies, and Satoru sat upon it like a throne. It transitioned from being the witness to being the victim in a minute and your chest squeezed so hard you choked out, “I was dying, baby.”

“You’re not going to die. No one’s going to hurt you, you understand?” Satoru cupped your cheeks to force you to look him in the eye. “I’m going to keep you safe no matter what. Not leaving your side, angel, that’s a promise.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I would never do that,” he nodded before he raised your pinky. Satoru looped both your fingers and kissed the conjoined form, not once leaving your gaze the whole time. “I promise,” he whispered, foreheads touching and breaths mingling. Like one soul intertwined, you once mused, feeling yourself get lost in the depth of azure pools he harboured. “There’s nowhere to go without you anyway; you’re the greatest gift in my life. I’d do anything for you.”

“Don’t leave me. Please.”

“I won’t, angel. I never will.”

And you believed that. Like the fool you were, you really believed that.

The bank loomed over you, its mere presence impending and bringing about a wave of discomfort to you. Awkwardly, you stepped inside, hiding your face in your hair to conceal the nausea threatening to urge you to throw up. You couldn’t help but survey the entire area out of instant wariness, holding tighter to your phone.

Seeing as there was no line, you sat on the nearest open window. “Hi, uhm…I recently got transferred this money from…an old friend, you could say,” you informed with furrowed brows, fishing your phone out of your pocket as you logged into your account. The whole time, your hands turned sweaty and the phone nearly slipped from your grasp out of anxiety. The woman assisting you flashed you a sympathetic smile, patient and kind enough to listen to your small voice through the glass. “I lost contact with them so I can’t return it. I was wondering if maybe you could help me rewind the transaction?”

“Oh, we can definitely do that Ma’am, may I see?” Nodding, you handed her your phone. In an instant, the polite smile fell from her lips, altering into a nervous one the next. “Oh…” she blinked back at the digits, clearly overwhelmed from the amount of zeroes. Dropping her voice, she leaned closer to you, “Do you…do you know the account owner personally?”

“Yes,” you admitted, “Well, I used to.”

“And they wired you all this?”

“About two weeks ago, yeah.”

The employee sat there for a full minute, possibly contemplating how to go about this. It didn’t set well with you – that mysterious, almost suspicious smile she had – that you debated whether just asking for your phone back. “Excuse me for a moment. I think I should take this to the higher-ups,” she announced while scanning the bank with narrowed eyes, leaving before you could have a say in it.

The next minutes that passed had never felt more gruelling.

You sat there with a frantic heart, your jeans damp from the countless times you’ve wiped your hand on it. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. People came in for their own agendas, the hushed ‘inside voice’ as faint as ever, then they left. Repeat. End of conversation.

It was just another normal, boring day for everyone else – but not for you.

“Miss?” a voice pulled you away from your thoughts. A half-bald man was now standing before you, the previous employee you’d been talking to right behind him, her head ducked down. Manager, his tag read, which made sense. He gestured for you to come inside the back parts of the bank, and you gripped your purse tighter as you followed them.

The inside wasn’t that special or different from the outside. There were lesser chairs but bigger, brighter white walls. His office was located right in the middle where the female employee closed the glass doors behind you, silent and timid as she prepared you tea. Meanwhile, you sat there with your hands wrung in your lap, stomach already falling from the grim expression he wore. “About the funds, I’m afraid we can’t do anything about this transaction. While it had been transferred you, neither us nor the bank has the authorization to do anything about this. Whoever sent it to you is the only one that can either take it back or liquidize it,” he pushed his glasses back to his face, an apologetic sigh leaving his lips. “I’m afraid we can’t help you with this, Miss, we’re really sorry—”

“No!” you slammed your palms on the desk, “No, I don’t want the money, wire it back to him!”

“Miss, we already told you, it’s out of control—”

You shook your head. This wasn’t real – Satoru had to be joking! He couldn’t just give you this and disappear into thin air! In fact, you never even cared for the money; you were just hoping that maybe you’d find a way back to him if nothing but digits was the only thing left to prove he even existed. Desperation clawed its way through your throat as you fell on your knees, helpless tears streaming down your face. “Please, you have to do something, I don’t want the money, I just want him back, please! I just need to talk to him once more and he’s your client, right? Let me talk to him, I know you have contact with him, Sir, please, I’m begging you—”

“Security!” the manager hollered. The sounds of doors slamming open made you stand up straight, eyes wide at the incoming pairs of guards ready to escort you out. “It’s best you schedule a personal appointment with the account owner, Miss. We also suggest you remain on the down-low instead of causing a ruckus like this. You don’t know who’s going to be grabbing at every opportunity to take what was given to you.”

“Everything’s been taken away from me!” you argued back, walking around the desk to clasp the manager’s hand. He pulled away for a moment before you squeezed his hands, the tearing of your heart too painful to bear. You just wanted to see him. “Come on, please, I don’t care about the money, I just—”

They didn’t let you finish. Just like Satoru, just like everybody else, they discarded you to the side, treated you like you were a nobody who didn’t deserve a second chance.

“Escort her out, please.”

And just like that, your fate had been decided. No...perhaps it had been determined the moment he left, and now you walked blearily along the narrowed gaps between buildings, unable to find your way back home.

Where was home anyway? Your penthouse with Satoru? Your cramped dorm back at the university? Your empty flat that had once been a happy home with your parents before they too, left you behind with nothing but a family portrait as a memory? It was pathetic. You meant nothing. Obviously, no one valued you enough, not even Satoru who’d just given you enough to let you live comfortably for the rest of your life. But no matter how much he provided, it wasn’t what you wanted. It wouldn’t bring back the one thing you wanted most, and you fell on the rough pavement, too tired to care about the stinging of your palms.

You clutched at your heart in a debilitated attempt to soothe way your chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were literally in the middle of the nowhere, trapped between the walls that hid you in the darkness and muffled your cries.

He’d left – he really left.

He didn’t keep his promise, and your nightmare had now become reality. You had to bite down your shirt to keep the agony to yourself, nails dug so deep into your jeans it left a mark above your skin. Hours passed, maybe minutes – who knew?

The sun had gone down and the streets grew busier than before, the honking and lively bustling of the night city like background noise to you.

Your key back to the penthouse weighed heavily at your back pocket. There was still the option of just going back home, but what good would that do? Everywhere you went, you were reminded of him. There was no escaping the beautiful memories he left you with, there was no exit from his miserable dream you were forced to wake up into.

Nothing mattered anymore. You felt so lost, the motivation to find your way back depleted just like your energy. You only had your bodily instincts to thank for when your stomach grumbled, demanding to be fed and nurtured even in such a hopeless situation. It made you want to laugh – that even as your heart and soul gave up on you – your body was doing its best to keep you alive and get through the day. You heaved yourself away from the wall and wiped the dirt away from your palms, the rhythm of your feet one heavy clump next to the other.

There was a nice Chinese restaurant at the end of the street that glowed brightly, invitingly. If you could just have dinner, maybe you’d feel better.

But you never got three steps across.

A cold blade had been pressed to your neck, sinister laughter echoing from the darkness of the night. “Scream and you die, sweetheart,” a gruff voice crooned in your ear, followed by a more high-pitched, maniacal chuckles. There was two of them. Fear lit your nerves up and you scrambled to run, but this man was too strong. He didn’t even have to try too much into increasing pressure to your neck, slicing the first layers of your skin that was enough to prick both blood and tears from you. “Ah, ah, ah! Resisting won’t get you anywhere. We just want to talk, okay? No foul play needed.”

You shut your eyes in submission, too afraid to even swallow the bile rising in case the movement would push the knife further. You could only let out a weak, “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, what else?” said his accomplice, showing up in front of you with a creepy smile. He tipped his head side to the side, revealing the silver replacements of his teeth that glinted under the streetlights. “You got his hidden slush fund, didn’t you?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to lie, we saw you leave that bank. Plus, everyone’s been talking about it!” cheered the guy behind you, pushing you forwards with his blade finally withdrawn. You stumbled on your feet as they pointed to the nearest ATM. For a moment, you contemplated making a run for it. The ATM was only a few kilometres away from the Chinese restaurant and you could be safe if you run fast enough, but you were too obvious, the deceit written all over your face. The first guy then pressed a gun against your head, a silent reminder that you were the weaker one here. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, “Now you’ll withdraw it little by little, okay? We just want a piece of it, a fraction of it is enough to last us a lifetime.”

Exhaling deeply, you raised your hands in surrender. “I can’t withdraw it.”

“The fuck did you say?”

“I said I can’t withdraw it! I don’t have access—”

“Bullshit, bitch, you’ve got so much of it, just give to us before we kill you,” he cocked his gun, his friend following suit and retrieving a pistol from his belt. Your lips quivered at the sight of two guns aimed at your way, but you remained firm in your spot, shaking your head at them. The man’s eyes darkened, displeased by your response. He narrowed his eyes at you before nodding to his friend.

“Fuck this man, she’s a selfish cunt. Take her phone and her belongings.”

“No, please, don’t—”

It was too late. They had pushed you on the ground, your bum throbbing from the fall. The second guy rummaged your pockets before pulling out your wallet, jaw dropping from the contents. “Fuck,” he exclaimed, flashing a Polaroid you had kept the whole time. “This you and Six Eyes?”

Your heart fell.

It was a photo of you and Satoru on your first anniversary where he’d whisked you off to a sky tower, arrogantly declaring that he’d make you experience the best date ever.

He wasn’t lying – his arrangement of fireworks and a romantic date in the sky really had been the best – and he’d snapped a picture of you then, sneakily landing a kiss on your cheek while you gasped at the display of fireworks before you.

Just seeing it felt like torture all over again, and the thief snickered at your tear stained face. “Oh, I see. You’re his whore, aren’t you? Everyone called it bullshit when word got around Six Eyes had a little angel hidden somewhere around here. I gotta say though, you are a pretty thing. Makes sense you got him pussy whipped.”

“Whoever Six eyes fucks – especially someone he liked enough to pay this much – that is fine meat, man,” the other muttered more to himself. His eyes then lit up with a thought, the smirk tugging at his lips screaming trouble. “It’d be a shame to not have a taste.”

You paled. Scrambling as much as you could with sore legs, you pushed their arms away from you. “Let go of me!” you cried out, kicking harder when they’ve discarded their guns and focused on carrying you instead. Everything muted that night except for the pounding of your heart as you struggled to get away from them, arms flailing the moment one of them yanked your shirt down to expose your bra. “Don’t fucking touch me, let go!”

It must be luck that your punch landed on his nose, a sickening crack resonating in the street. All of you remained still, with you flattening your back on the wall, arms protectively sheltering your chest and the pair staring at the other guy’s broken nose.

He winced at seeing blood on his fingers, “Oh, you’re just asking for it bitch,” he snarled, snapping his fingers to get his friend’s attention and pointing at you. “Grab her leg.”

Both of them made quick work. It all happened so fast you couldn’t tell which was who anymore. Your shirt had been ripped off; the straps of your bra tugged down to free a nipple while your arms had been knocked into the building behind you. One of them kept you immobile, their grips too strong and their bodies twice your size that you were easily overpowered. You never cried so hard in your life – not even when you realized Satoru had left – and your throat ached from how much you wept.

“Stop, no, let go of me!”

“Shut her the fuck up, bruh,” the man unzipping your jeans scowled, his fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. You sobbed and screamed, fought hard as much as you could, but you were too weak. Too vulnerable. Too pathetic.

Maybe it was just better to let go.

Maybe it was just better to stop.

Your shoulders fell as they shimmied your jeans down your hips, each and every inch of your body no longer yours. Was this how you would die? Was this how you would finish? If so, you would’ve appreciated at least one last dinner.

You were about to close your eyes the moment you heard the sounds of a man’s belt unbuckling, too lost in your own horror that you failed to hear the screeching of tires, and neither did they. And then, like a light at the end of the tunnel, like an angel dropping from the heavens – gunshots rang through the air. Blood splattered to your cheek. Heavy bodies crunched against the ground.

He’d come back.

Except it wasn’t Satoru leaning in front of a car when you opened your eyes. The man stood a few inches shorter, blond shaggy hair falling just above his eyebrows, the ends dyed black. His body was tilted to the side, half of his weight shifted on a cane upon closer look, but you were mostly captivated in his eyes. He showed no malice intent; hell, he didn’t even spare a glance at the corpses with holes between their eyes, silently blowing the smoke away from his barrel like this was a common thing for him.

He had his eyes on you, uncaring of the fact you were half-naked before him since his attention remained on your face.

“So it’s true,” he mused, “I didn’t believe at first when they said Six Eyes really gave the notes to his girl. A commoner, no less,” he limped towards you, feline-eyes slanted to inspect you. “But nothing about you is common, is there? To get the demon to soften up…you really must be something else,” his gloved hands ran a finger down to your jaw, and you shut your eyes tight, leaning away from his touch. The man clicked his tongue at your reactions but withdrew his hand anyway, stepping a few feet away from you to give you space. “Don’t be so scared. You and I are not that different. We’re both just poor victims of facing the consequences of his actions,” he tapped his cane at your shoes, his face devoid of expression. “Stand up. You won’t get anywhere by crying. You need to learn how to fight.”

You swung the door open, ready to finally get the shoes you’ve been gushing to Naoya about for days. But you were met with nothing but a tuft of white hair, blood smattered on his cheeks, and lips crashing down onto yours. Satoru pinned you against the wall in the same manner he held you on that day he left, his kisses harsh and longing while you moaned into his mouth, legs turning into jelly.

“Angel,” he rasped into your mouth, grinding his boner to the thin material of your night gown. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

Satoru forced his tongue past your lips and kept you close to him, his intoxicating scent tempting you to give in and enjoy it already. For a split second, you faltered, kissing him back with the love you once harboured for him, but then you blanked.

This was Satoru.

You were married to Naoya.

He’d began to leave kisses at your jawline when you pulled back, landing a sharp elbow right at his head. Satoru fell on the floor and you panted above him as you tried to make yourself decent. Fuck, that hurt like a bitch. You had to roll your shoulders back to get rid of the tension as you made the mental note to train in combat harder, pinching the bridge of your noise before you summoned the servants.

Satoru was knocked out for a solid hour. You found it funny that the infamous omnipotent Six Eyes was now sprawled all over your couch, soft snores emitting from his lips. He’d been pretty unresponsive to you so ice far, not even a budge as you iced the bruise you’d left on his face.

You sighed. His shirt was stained with blood, the pads of his knuckles matted with wounds and bruises. You couldn’t help yourself from brushing his hair away from his eyes, humming a little until his eyes cracked open. Satoru stared at the ceiling before his eyes landed on you hovering before him, your touch gentle in paradox to the heat of your gaze. “What are you doing here, Satoru?” you sighed, gesturing to the mess he had on his shirt. “Where have you been?”

“In a fight.”

“No shit,” you rolled your eyes, “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

“I-I don’t know. I just…I lost it for a moment and—”

“Do I want to know why?”

“It’s stupid,” he mumbled to himself and faced the couch. Even after seven years, he was still very much the petty kid at heart. You could confidently bet he was pouting right now, and you crossed your leg over the other, hiding a small smile behind your palm. “I overheard one of my men making a sleazy comment that Naoya’s wife looked like a bitch who would jump at every alpha male,” Satoru grumbled, prying for your reaction by looking across his shoulder. “I don’t know what came over me after that.”

“Did you kill them?”

“Almost,” he scrunched his nose, “Then I pictured your face. Maybe you wouldn’t want me to do that.”

“So you care about what I want now?”

Satoru shut his eyes. Of course you’d never stop bringing that up – both to your demises – since you were both a sadist who didn’t mind receiving pain every now and then. Five years of marriage with Naoya taught you to be resilient to all types of pain, the experiences and horrors you’ve lived through practically making you immune to them now. Satoru, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be on the same boat as you. He sat up, his hips flushed next to your thighs, burying his hands on his head. “Angel, about everything... are we not going to talk about what happened before?”

“Is there anything to talk about?” you deadpanned, surprising the guy who widened his eyes at you. Surely, he must be expecting a different form of hatred coming from you, but you were indifferent – numb, empty. “The past is in the past, Satoru. You know better than anyone else it’s easier to just walk away.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” you faked a smile, placing your chin on your hands while blinking up at him under innocent eyes. Naoya once told you that your attitude of being unbothered bothered a lot more people, and it was a technique you’ve loved ever since. Seeing Satoru crumble before you...nothing felt more satisfying. “For barging in here or for kissing me? Maybe both?”

“For everything,” he answered brokenly, “For all the pain I’ve put you through.”

“Do you think apologies are going to suddenly eradicate that?”

“…No.”

“Then I don’t need it,” you taunted, patting his thigh as you stood up, tying the knots of your robe safer this time. You couldn’t be bothered to wear underwear beneath them; if Satoru tried laying his hands on you again, you wouldn’t hesitate to cut his fingers off, and the plain sight of a dagger now strapped in your thigh was enough of a reminder for him. He made sure to keep his distance.

“Come with me. I’ll show you what we’ve been working on,” Satoru’s footsteps were silent as you led him past the secret doors hidden behind Naoya’s study, the room leading into an even bigger part of the house that stored most of your possessions. Satoru let out an awed gasp behind you once the lights and slight whirs of the machine buzzed through the room, chemicals bubbling from one side and little pills being packaged on the other. Your face lit up in a smile from the sheer pride of your hard work, arms extended to the side to present everything. “This is mostly where we manufacture Xenet. All of this – it’s mine. My personal little laboratory, or as Naoya calls it, my playroom,” you grinned, “I feel at peace here.”

“Making drugs?”

“Being safe,” you corrected with a roll of your eyes, “Acting like I’m normal. That gives me peace.”

Satoru was hot on your heels all the way to the main laboratory, where you’d pestered him into wearing safety gloves before entering. You donned a white coat from the blast of AC that enraged goosebumps, leading him in front of a huge clear wall that formulated Xenet’s pure creation. Stacks of purple powder lined up on layers all kept inside a cooling room, and you stepped to the side, muttering to yourself while checking today’s inventory like it was totally normal to manufacture illegal drugs inside your home.

You would’ve looked domestic if Satoru wasn’t feeling the slightest bit dizzy from the drug-coated atmosphere; one that you’d gotten resistant from.

“What brought you here?” Satoru voiced out, shaking his head to himself. He looked terribly devastated, cheeks sunken and dark circles lining his eyes. “I never thought...”

“That I’d be like you?” you finished for him. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you smiled at Satoru and pushed past him to list down your observations for today. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not like Naoya; I’m not a mass murderer.”

“But you’re supporting him.”

“He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him,” you paused in your tracks, the spite evident in your tongue. “If you hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have to be like this. There are thousands of people after me because you named me after that account. Other than Naoya, there’s really no other reason I’m still alive and breathing,” Satoru was speechless from your confession, which was good, since you didn’t want him chatting too much in the first place. You ignored him as you continued typing notes on your monitor, acting unaffected, but the way you punched through the keys told a different story. “This is the least I could do for him. In exchange of protection, I’ll be sharing my intelligence and give him what he wants.”

“Doesn’t it sicken you that we’re like this? That we do all this – for money, power, control – without the slightest bit of conscience?” Satoru scoffed, “You’ve been married for him a long time. I know you’re not a stranger to the fact we even enjoy this.”

You stopped your task, turning to Satoru with flared nostrils. “You know, Satoru, painting yourself as a demon to look like a victim won’t make me sympathize,” you spat out, absolutely losing it. “I don’t care what you’ve been doing before you met me. I don’t care that you killed or hurt people. I’m not the slightest bit of the angel you claim me to be because if I was as pure as that, don’t you think I would’ve stopped loving you?”

Everything crumbled to dust.

Years of convincing yourself you didn’t care anymore, years of healing yourself, years of working hard to forget him – and all crumbled to dust.

“What are you—”

“I knew!” you cut him off, “I knew everything. I’m not dumb, Satoru. No matter how much you tried to hide it back then, I saw the blood stains. I could smell the alcohol. I know drugs when I see it,” Satoru took a step back in surprise, but you kept going. Now that you’ve started it, you might as well finish it, and your eyes pricked with tears before you could stop it. “But I never cared. I was selfish – blinded by love. Back then, I told myself I didn’t care who you were because I loved you unconditionally,” You were breathing hard from finally releasing that damn fucking weight off your shoulders, your resolve breaking as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand while Satoru remained frozen. “Every night, I cried myself to sleep. I always asked myself why did it have to be you? Why did you have to be that way? Why did you have to be a monster? It broke me to no end, Satoru, but every time I tried to think of you as awful, you would hold me so close that it felt like everything was a lie,” your voice faltered, “I loved you in spite of everything you’ve done. I’m just selfish like that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you cried, “Many times...I turned a blind eye to it. I didn’t want to force something out of you because I knew you weren’t ready, but I was always waiting, Satoru,” gesturing to the both of you, Satoru watched your frantic movements. “Did you think I didn’t mean it when I said I would love you no matter what – no matter who you might be? I meant every word of it. You didn’t have to leave me because I would’ve still left everything behind if you asked me to go with you. I don’t care anymore, I never did. I just wanted to be with you.”

“Angel...” he trailed off, debating whether to hold you or just stay put. Satoru chose the latter and ran his hands over his hair, breathing hard as he, too, wavered. “I was scared. Each time I see your face, I-I can’t help but think about losing you. It haunts me every fucking night that what if I’m not strong enough? What if I couldn’t protect you?” his voice broke, “You were the only good thing in my life. I couldn’t handle losing you just because you got too close.”

You shoved him hard. “That’s no fucking excuse! You told me – y-you told me that I made you feel strong, that I gave you hope, that I made you feel like nothing could stand in your way – so don’t stand there and fucking tell me you were scared!”

Satoru kept taking a step back from the force of your hits, and he took them all with a brave face, but it seemed that he too had reached his limit as you leered, “Don’t be a fucking coward!”

“It’s because I loved you!” Satoru gripped your wrists and tugged you to him, effectively taking the ability to speak away from you. “My whole life, I got everything I wanted and things were easy for me! I don’t know what it’s like to lose something because I had control of everything except you! I didn’t want you stuck and burdened with my sins all for the sake of something as greed!” he bellowed, his forehead connected with yours and the warmth of his body more than welcoming. “I am a greedy man, angel, I would take everything I want with no hesitation but I couldn’t do it with you. It was easier to let you go,” he mumbled, “Than to regret making you unhappy by revealing my true self. Because the way you looked at me – you loved me so much I don’t think I’m worthy of it,” Satoru trudged closer to you, almost rubbing his skin over your soft ones just to say, “I don’t deserve you.”

You pulled away from him.

You’d tore open every chance of reconciliation. And if you were to be honest? You didn’t regret it.

“You’re right,” you snickered sarcastically, “You really don’t deserve me. Here I thought maybe Naoya would be the weaker of the two of you, but he’s more of a man than you are, Satoru. Naoya never gave an excuse for anything – it didn’t matter whether he was capable of something or not – he always tried to the best of his ability. He’s not the type to give up before he’s even tried it,” You knew you were just pushing his buttons, this was much clear from how Satoru was holding himself back, but you couldn’t stop. You were unstoppable, harsh as you challenged your once lost lover who had now wound up before you once more.

“If you truly loved me and felt you didn’t deserve me, then don’t you think you should’ve tried harder?”

You wanted him to regret it. You wanted him to feel your pain a thousand times more. You wanted him to realize what he’d done wrong. But most of all, you wanted him to try harder, to redeem himself, to be worthy of a second chance.

But just like how he’d broken your heart before, Satoru did it again.

Because even after every fucking thing, the only thing he was capable of saying was: “I’m sorry, Angel.”

You’d grown too tired of apologies. But because it was him, because you loved him, then you’d fucking hear it all over again. Just try, you wanted to beg, try for me, Satoru.

“Your plans will continue to fail, Satoru,” you agonized, “You never protected me. The moment you left, my life turned to hell and I almost died way too many times for me to count. This time is no different. We’re all just pawns in the Zen’in’s game, so if you really want both of us to live, you should do your part,” Sighing, you turned away from him, just about ready to call it a night. You were too tired. “Give back the money to Naoya, and he’ll keep me safe until the end of it all. You can just go back to where you came from.”

“Naoya won’t stand a chance against Toji. It’s not his money anyway, he should give it back to his cousin—”

“And neither is it yours!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid, you see the flaw of his plans too!” Satoru gestured to your lab, to everything that you proudly claimed an effort of your hard work. “Even if I gave back everything to Naoya, it won’t stop Toji from anything! He might not kill you anymore, but he’ll definitely kill your husband and take over the mafia, or his kid, then where will you go?”

“Follow him into death like the good wife I am.”

Satoru was stunned by the lack of hesitance in your answer. “You’re serious about this,” he echoed, blinking back to process the gravity of your devotion to your husband. “Even if Toji somehow dies, it doesn’t change the fact Naoya will still proceed with plans to manipulate Japan to his will. He’s going to drug everyone until he’s at the top of the food chain. Your husband doesn’t want to be a businessman; he wants to be a god. Plus, he doesn’t care about you, he’s only using you!”

“Like I said,” you smiled weakly, “He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him. Once he gets everything he wants, it’s game over.”

“No...” Satoru gritted his teeth, “No, I won’t let it happen. You’re not going anywhere; you’re not going to die!”

“So then protect me!” you shouted at his face, “Do what it is you never got to do before and protect me! I’m disposable, don’t you see? No matter what I do, no matter where I go, no matter how loyal I am to him, I am nothing! Each step I take forwards is just a step closer to my prolonged death!” you spewed word for word with so much venom Satoru felt like he was choking, but it was nothing in comparison as you fell on the floor, weeping with your fists pressed against your eyes. “If you hadn’t left me...I wouldn’t have to live fearing for my life every second. So protect me, Satoru. If you really want me to forgive you, at least save me this once.”

“I will, angel,” he promised – and how many more promises had he made, only to break them? You couldn’t be blamed for not believing him, for finding wariness in his words, for flinching a little bit as he crouched before you, cupping your cheek the same way he did before. “I promise you that. I’m never leaving, never gonna leave your side ever again.”

“You better not,” you chuckled darkly, eventually giving in from his touch.

Yes, he’d left you...yes, he’d hurt you – but until now it felt like home, even if it also conflicted with the fact this was wrong.

“My only wish is that when I die, I want to die without hating you,” you muttered with your lips hovering his, your breaths tangling and his hands finding its way to your hair. “So don’t make me hate you anymore, Satoru. Grant me peace before I leave.”

“You’re not going to die,” he closed his eyes and took the first leap of faith by grazing his lips with yours, a faint glimmer of the sweetness he once had the pleasure of savouring with each waking moment of his life. But he was stupid back then – he’d be even more stupid to not learn his lesson this time around.

“I won’t let that happen, you understand?” Satoru breathed out, “You will be safe. You will live.”

He had said it so confidently, so surely, that for a moment, you believed it. You believed maybe you’d really win this round and come out unscathed, to live, to survive – even if the chances were slim to none to begin with. For now, you didn’t want to be a mafia leader’s wife, nor did you want to be another’s broken lover. You just wanted to be someone who didn’t want to die, to find comfort in the empty promises from the same man who kept breaking and breaking them, and maybe for now, that was enough.

Without another thought, not even the image of Naoya’s smile, you let it go.

You pulled Satoru close to you and kissed him hard and deep, swallowing his surprised moan with that exact same greediness, that desperation to live. You knew the moment Naoya came back or Toji found you, everything would be game over. So for now, this was enough.

A/N. SOOOOO? THOUGHTS? THEORIESSSSS? DO WE HAVE A TEAM NAOYA HERE OR IS IT JUST ME HAHAHAHAHA

taglist OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @greysoulthings @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap | bolded users cannot be tagged ://

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wherearemyglassesbro · 4 years

Text

Mha style quirks for h/etalia characters :) shhh....SHHH...quiet down...SHHH this is a secret

Francis: I think he’d have a quirk similar to Monoma’s where he can copy and use quirks as he fights after touching someone. He can use only one at a time but can ‘store’ five for 5 minutes each. I like to think of him pretending to be hurt in order to touch whoever he’s sparring with *cougharthurcough* to get their quirk. It’s kinda cheating but who cares! The only classmates that can really beat him are those who have quirks where they can shoot things at him or where they can fight from afar to do damage that way otherwise he’ll use their powers against them :0 the worst thing that could happen to him though is that he runs out of time with all of his ‘borrowed’ quirks and now he has nothing to fight with at all...uh oh. If a teammate lets him touch them then he’s fine :)

Alfred: Uhhh Al can hulk out kinda but his quick is called ‘rodeo’ cause he becomes like...a bull. Like his upper half gets huge and he just fuckin bulldozes people down with no mercy. He holds back in training just cause he doesn’t want to hurt his friends cause he WILL cry if he does lmao but if it were a real fight he could easily knock someone out. He can carry his classmates with ease, lift heavy things without breaking a sweat, that kind of stuff! Pretty much the ultimate himbo of his class :) but he isn’t stupid he’s very good at coming up with strategies. You better go see him play football. It almost isn’t fair that he even gets to play cause he’s so strong but he tones it down to ‘play fair’...as fair as it can be :)

Laura: Laura is pretty much made of rubber! If she jumps off of a high surface she’ll bounce, if you hit her she’ll bounce back, if you shoot her she bullet will bounce back too but leave a bruise. She is definitely hero material! She can easily save people from crumbling buildings or from things falling on them cause she absorbs the blow. Her speed and punches arent fantastic but when whoever she’s fighting with gets tired after trying to punch her over and over, she can win with a few well aimed blows! Her weakness is heat for sure, she’ll start to melt kinda which is pretty painful so if fire is involved, she keeps her distance and works on crowd control

Vlad: (tw blood) Vlad can manipulate blood and wounds, which is a very scary quirk to have. If you don’t have wounds he can’t really do much other than lower or raise your blood pressure which is scary either way it if you have a cut or scrape he can manipulate it to turn into a huge gash that’ll bleed out quick. At the same time, he’s good to have on your team cause he can close wounds too and stop bleeding from occurring, it goes both ways. The only downside is that he has to be within a few feet of the person he wants to damage/heal so he has to get a bit too close for comfort. With his friends, he’s very kind and nurturing though!!! If you got a paper cut he’d fix it right up for you!! At the same time, he’s also gotten in trouble for widening other people’s paper cuts or skinned knees on purpose just cause he didn’t like them lmao

Arthur: Art is also dangerous, his quirk is that he can shoot acid out of glands on his wrists. (Yes Spider-Man is my inspiration here). He can shoot it a few meters! And it’s potent too like it’ll give you chemical burns if it touches you. He keeps his wrists bandaged up at all times unless he’s training or fighting just in case acid leaks out by accident. He’d feel terrible if he hurt someone like that, he did it to his mum once and flipped out even though it wasn’t a big deal to her. Art’s little brother Peter made him thick, fabric cuffs for his wrists with minion fabric...he wears them when his family comes to visit. When he fights or spars with classmates he is always annoyed when Francis borrows his quirk cause he’s terrified that he’ll hurt someone by accident. Art himself took a long time to effectively figure his quirk out cause it’s so strange, he knows that that frog slurper has no clue how to use it!!! Ugh!

Michelle: Michelle can essentially melt herself or parts of herself down into a liquidy sludge. She can move around as the sludge too. She can go through cracks in the ground, under doors, through the tiniest crack in a wall to get into a building, through vents, you name it! Her quirk is very helpful!! If an enemy stepped on her while she was in goop form, they’d slip and fall! Or if she gloop-ified her hand and stuck it in their eyes or face they’d be blinded and she could fight like that!! Her quirk isn’t really something she can use for hand to hand fighting but she’s still a useful teammate!! A scary looking side effect of her quirk is when she cries, her tears are just goopy green sludge :0 yuck. I mean- not yuck!!! Cool!! Haaa...

Antonio: Toni is pretty much Mrs Incredible. He’s stretchy and go a big ass so. Uh huh. He is a fantastic fighter, he knows his abilities well and the way he maneuvers himself around in whatever shape he’s taking always looks so practiced even if he’s literally a triangle or a parachute. He tangles enemies in his arms or sucker punches them from meters away (uh huh we’re using meters) and gosh dang!! He’s a hard hitter!! He is excited to be a hero :) he’s also a fantastic friend cause he can reach high places, unlock your car from the inside by sticking his hand in there, he can be a trampoline, dude whatever. His favorite pass time is tapping Arthurs shoulder in the hall from alllll the way down the hall from him with his long elastic arms lol. The amount of pranks this guy can pull is unlimited

Lovino: Lovino inhereted laser eyes from his father. His laser eyes are super powerful, he can cut through metal like cars or a person if he wanted to. He has the potential to be a great hero he’s just afraid of losing his freedom cause as a hero, the public eye is always on you. He joined the hero course with his brother because of the pressure from his grandpa so he’s very cold to his classmates cause he doesn’t really want to be there. Of course there’s a few that grow on him and he makes friends...shocker. Eventually, and you can already see it starting, he’ll have scars around his eyes from his quirk. His grandfather has it and his father had it too. The heat his quirk generates burns his own skin when he uses it so he tries not to use it outside of training and fighting. He wears sunglasses inside so people don’t look at his eyes...He’s a bit self concious about it even though he has very beautiful eyes :(

Feli: Feli did not inherently laser eyes instead he inhereted hypnotism. His quirk is weak compared to Lovi’s but as he’s gotten older, he’s strengthened himself a lot. If you look him in the eyes, he can make you do what he wants for a few minutes. He can only control two people at a time and he has to be close to them to do it but wowie, it can be scary to fight against him cause either you have to close your eyes or you just can’t look at him while you fight. Feli isn’t much of a fighter himself but if he can make others do it, he feels better about it lmao. He also wears sunglasses inside to avoid accidentally hypnotizing someone, he’d feel pretty bad about that

Roma: ^^^ Feli and Lovi’s grandpa who raised them. He was part of an original European pro-hero group. He, and his sons, all have eye related powers. Roma has laser vison, which Lovi inhereted. His other sons had some variant of laser vision amd X-ray vision. Feli’s hypnotizing eyes are a mix of his fathers eye related quirk and his mother’s hypnotizing quirk. Roma trained Lovi a lot but became frustrated with his grandson’s temper so he focused more on Feli. He loves his boys very much because they’re all he has left. All three of his sons are deceased and they didn’t have kids. Feli and Lovi’s dad was the eldest and his wife fled after his death. Roma is always smiling for his boys and the press but inside, he is still grieving. His laser vison is very powerful but it’s given him scars around his eyes, which itll eventually do for Lovi too. Lovi’s power is strong like his grandpas but Roma believes that his grandson is lazy and that he just isn’t training hard enough.

Yao: An original pro-hero who teaches young heroes now. He is more of a college level teacher but he does stop in to highschool level hero academies to substitute teach. His quirk is manipulating the dead. He can bring back three ghosts at a time and get them to use their quirks in a fight however, Yao becomes somewhat powerless as he controls the ghosts and admittedly, it takes a lot out of him to fight. But he’s still insanely popular cause watching him fight is mesmerizing, his skill and technique is so clean and practiced! He does demonstrations at hero academies to encourage students to be confident in their abilities as well as to never hold back in a real fight.

Gilbert: I envision Gil and Lud having quirks similar to Tenya and Tensei Iida. Gilbert has engines in his arms, making his punches bone breakingly hard omfg. He is Ludwig’s biggest fan, he’s always pushing him to be better, to train harder to fight harder. He’s always proud of him no matter what. They’re only 3 years apart and Ludwig is like a foot taller than him but he’s still a big brother!!!! Gil is very reckless so a hero career may not be something attainable for him just because he doesn’t listen and he often makes split second decisions that can/will get himself and others hurt. The plan is to start a hero trio group with Fran and Toni once they graduate but again, who knows how that’ll go

Ludwig: Like his brother, Lud also has engines but his are in his legs, making him insanely fast. He isn’t a fan of fighting hand to hand so he’s more likely to kick the shit out of someone or run around grabbing people to get them out of a dangerous area. Ludwig is only in the hero course because of his brother and he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that he may not want to be a hero. That’ll change once he gets more experience in the field though! He’s never had so many friends before now, being surrounded by so many wanna-be-heroes encourages him more than anything! As he grows, he gets stronger and TALLER than most of his friends which is a shock to everyone. Ah yes...a growth spurt. Congrats nerd.

#shhh...I’ll come back to this eventually #I just wanted to get some ideas out #I know this is a messy post lol I did this in like 6 minutes lmao #hetalia #aph #aph france #aph america #aph england #aph Seychelles #aph china #aph prussia #aph spain #aph Rome #aph romano #aph germany

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sister-location · 6 years

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hi! i know you probably have a lot of asks right now, but i wanted to get some clarification on something. what exactly do we know about remnant? do we know anything except that it's what the scuper was designed for?

Yes and No!

The secret ‘insanity’ ending is the only time we ever see Remnant being mentioned. But we need to keep in mind that like with everything else in FNAF, being directly told about something is just meant to be a hint to look for context clues!

Longer post under the cut because there’s a lot to be said here and it’s image heavy because I just woke up!

edit: I realized partway through this that gameverse Afton might be injecting himself with whats essentially robo-ghost blood and it’s really fucking funny to me, sorry for obviously laughing about this for the entire post.

First up we see the SCUPer, A B C and D functions, and the Afton Robotics, LLC trademark. Let’s go over them!

NAME: S.caleable C.reation of U.lterior P.resence

Ok so you can see that either Afton or Scott are really weird with names, because this.. is honestly weird word choices, but they sure made it fit the ice cream theme. Rammed it right in there. But let me work these words down;T.his M.achine M.akey G.hosties. Call it Thingmmagig.

Scalable Creation refers to being able to generate more [ghosts] and likely also be able to remove (or relocate..?) [ghosts]. Ulterior Presence is.. actually a little funny, because it means ‘Secret Secret Ghosts’ kind of. And honestly these ghosts aren’t really hidden, unless you count that no one was sure if the Funtime animatronics were haunted or not. Maybe in-universe, the fact these robots were haunted at all was a huge secret and only like, 4 people knew. Maybe to everyone else, blood and mucus coming out of robots is normal. Whatever.

BLUEPRINT PART A: EXCAVATING ARM

No bonus data given, this is just the weird… partial cylinder. I’m not sure why A wasn’t put on the actual folding arm structure. Maybe the A is on the end because that is the part that, well, scoops you. slurp

BLUEPRINT PART B: REMNANT INJECTOR

NOTES: Leaves trace line amount on interior. Over-usage /Over-exposure negates effect.

Honestly the fact that there’s an ‘injector’ here somewhere is weird because it seems Scott made this thing really lowpoly and didn’t add much if anything when he went ‘lets make this a blueprint!’ because there’s clearly no… tubes, or needles, or… hell maybe the whole things hollow and it just kinda opens a hatch and it gloops out. I can’t see scott

Anyway this part of the blueprint identifies that.. somehow, there is an injector!So not only does this blueprint have one, we also now know that, yeah, there is a reason to inject people with whatever ‘remnant’ is. People and/or machines. So it clearly has some sort of reaction when placed inside other substances, and… actually why isn’t the SCUPr itself haunted. Scott probably didn’t think of that…. Moving on.

BLUEPRINT PART C: ARM BASE AND BALANCE

It seems that both wheel-shapes are just balances, given how low the D is. Weird design but not an important part of the machine, aside from making it sturdier while it tears things open.

BLUEPRINT PART D: REMNANT RESERVOIR

NOTES: When heated, no observable motion. Keep in heated tank at sustained temperature. Substance should be malleable, but not more. There is a possibility that overheating might neutralize the effects permanently.

Here’s the juicy stuff. Remnant is something that moves, and when heated, it stops moving and softens up. If it gets too hot, it neutralizes ‘effects’. So now we know that whatever Remnant is, it’s heat sensitive and moves on it’s own, so it’s alive in some way. People who have looked at the game files might remember something like that…

Also a weird fact here is that heating may neutralize the effects, but isn’t clear on what effects, or if it means while they’re in the tank or not. This could either mean that the remnants will get heat-resistant in the tank, which us unlikely, or…

Whoever uses Remnants for the SCUPr’s intented purpose needs to be kept cool at all times, or the effect, which we assume to be immortality, will wear off. What’s a coolant that we have in all games, and are only able to disable in FNAF 6? The fucking fan. THE FAN KEEPS MICHAEL AFTON ALIVE, LITERALLY. In theory anyway thats just a theory … but god would it make some god damn sense.

—————————————————————————

FACIAL RECOGNITION FILE 0072

Remnant is also mentioned in this blueprint!

SECURITY TAGS ACTIVE:001 “Funtime Freddy”002 “Funtime Foxy”003 “Ballora”

It’s unclear here if the numbers are the security tags (which implies funtime freddy is the first animatronic on the tag system, ever?) or if Henry was just absolutely prepared to have to write blueprints on a 100-tag hell machine. It’s probably just aesthetics. Either way, as referenced in LEFTE’s blueprints, all of the animatronics have security tags, or bracelets, or security receivers.. actually it’s likely

Henry’s robots: Security Receivers are so animatronics, Toys especially, can connect to each other to keep out bad people and protect children.

Afton’s robots: Security tags, so he knows where the robots are at all times, and doesn’t let the robots escape.

FE/AR Staff: Security bracelets so the robots know the difference between staff and patrons, and theoretically know staff by name. You guys know the theory that Lefty is submitting Henry’s frequency to the Puppet / his daughter? Shit’s sad.

That aside, come to think of it, would William have sent Michael a bracelet with his number on it, just to make sure the robots think Michael ‘looks’ like him to the animatronics? Michael goes through a lot of name changes over the series, but it’s possible. Maybe?

Anyway the main point here is that Molten Freddy is Freddy, Foxy and Ballora (Chica? Suzie?). No Minireenas, no Bonnie hand puppet, no pre-Ennard, no Yenndo, and especially no Circus Baby.

Priority One

With the most amount of Remnant collectively in it’s structure, this amalgamation of Afton’s constructs is a necessary element of Paragraph 4.

Paragraph 4′s direct meaning still isn’t really clear aside from that it has to do with the end of the game where Henry sets fire to Molten Freddy, Circus Baby, Springtrap and Lefty/his daughter, setting them all free. Of course with Molten Freddy being multiple spirits together, he’s the top priority: Even if Henry can’t stop the Aftons or save his daughter, he needs to save the most kids he can.

That said, note the wording: The most amount of Remnant. Not ‘the most spirits’ or ‘Likely to have the most attachments’ or anything clearly stating dead kids: the most Remnant. So although Remnant was only stated in Afton’s SCUPer blueprints, Henry is not only aware of what Remnant is, he clearly knows how it works, and how to remove the haunting ‘effect’: Heat. Fire.

This implies that Henry may have still worked with Afton even while Afton was doing a side job with Afton Robotics, despite Henry saying he built at least some of the robots. It’s very unlikely Henry would build.. child-grabby machines, so we’re assuming here that they just.. both made robots. At the same time. Oh timelines…

—————————————————————————

SO WHAT IS REMNANT?

In short, Remnant is some sort of life essence that may or may not always mean ghosts. The way we see the SCUPer work, through Circus Baby’s lines and Ballora’s scene in the Springsuit game (which the springsuit was distracting you!), is that the Funtime Animatronics capture kids in some way, ‘malfunction’, are taken to the SCUPer, and have the remnants of the kid scooped out.

Why don’t we see some kid’s corpse get mangled up and slurped out when we see Ballora get scooped? Well, maybe she opened up just off screen, orr it’s that it’s a kid’s game. There’s probably a better reason here, I just am not sure what it is.

Here’s a brightened gif of her being Scooped, which I was too lazy to reupload.

The eye color might be from my de-blueing it, so I won’t bring that up.However, what we see in the scooping process is odd. It’s not really a scoop, she just looks like she got uppercut in the face, twice for some reason. And that whatever the scooper’s doing, it’s causing a flash of light each impact. Whatever it’s doing seems to take a lot of ‘energy’ from Ballora, since she slumps over after as if she’s tired, but is clearly still possessed… or at least has the energy to be creepy while the Real Ballora is now inside the Scooper’s Excavating Arm.

It’s important here however to remember Scott’s intended view of this sprite:

This. This is all you get. By the time the faceplates open up, Ballora’s already staring at you slumped over. However, something also hidden by the faceplates, that perhaps Baby was specifically hiding from you, is something that isn’t present on the sprite. Because when different objects animate on their own, Scott makes them their own little object and spritesheet in game.

Because anything moving down there, you wouldn’t see them. Something wiggling, moving, because the scooper is extracting them, and they’re just not warm yet. Something that, just like the Insanity ending, we’re not supposed to see.

#fnaf #fnaf theories #remnant #sister location #fnaf6 #fnaf 6 spoilers #fairygodrobot

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itsteaveetime · 6 years

Note

Hey, if you're still taking prompts, can I request Mike T. getting his wisdom teeth out, based on the video of Mike W. getting his out on Instagram?

//Send me a prompt, get a drabble/one-shot. Always accepting prompts. Hopefully not supplying fics that completely suck.//

Mike Teavee is not cuddly.He never has been. Not even really as a baby, despite Ethel’s tendency to view his pre-walking, talking, and texting years through rosy tinted nostalgic glasses. He had (in Ethel’s biased opinion) been adorable, of course: thick dark hair and huge blue eyes, but he spent a lot more time crying and drooling than cooing sweetly at her than she likes to admit.A little like how he is drooling now, ironically. Of course now there’s more blood.

She presses a towel wrapped around a package of frozen peas to her son’s mouth. His head is propped up by pillows, but he’s still mostly out of it. Tears still cling to his long dark lashes.She secretly enjoys these moments, just a little bit. Not his pain, of course. But under normal circumstances he wouldn’t allow her to hover so close. He would be annoyed if she tried to brush the hair off of his forehead. She can look at his face for as long as she likes when he’s like this, without him twisting it up in disgust. At least: until the drugs wear off.Michael has to be sedated for every dental visit. Even for something as simple as a cleaning. That’s been the deal ever since he punched one of the dentists out for ‘lying’ (“He said it wasn’t gonna hurt and it hurt”). Even at 14 they have to dope him up, knock him out, and strap him down. It’s far from the only place where certain precautions are taken due to her son being…her son. But the dentist’s is the only one that leaves her with such a pliable little boy; one who answers to 'Mikey’, and doesn’t remember that he did so later, and as such doesn’t punish her in any way for upsetting his 'street cred’ (or whatever the kids today call it). And Mike does need a lot of dental work. He isn’t very diligent about brushing and he grinds his teeth like a horse, even on an SSRI.But nothing about Mike comes completely without complications. She keeps one eye on her son. She keeps the other on his phone.She isn’t sure how (particularly because of his temporary loss of fine motor skills), but in the time between when he first comes to, and they allow her to collect him, he always manages to text or tweet at or FaceTime someone. She has, over the years, ended up apologizing on his behalf to a wide variety of people. From local businesses to the presidents of small nations. She’s never able to explain how he manages to get their numbers: he just does. That’s just Mike.Today is unlikely to be an exception. Today has not been a simple cleaning.

There is always the chance she will be fielding a complaint from Jerry Jubilee’s publicist shortly, but lately (at least, since regaining his height after visiting Wonka’s factory), Mike tends to limit his drugged contacts to a smaller and more familiar circle.Some time last year he sent a long rambling missive to Mrs. Gloop (specifically Mrs. Gloop, not her son) full of half hysterical sobbing about jello molds (Ethel has no idea what that’s about, her casseroles are just fine), and wildly complimenting her ability to knit. Michael has no idea why he suddenly began receiving regular care packages full of sweaters and scarves from Germany, and Ethel isn’t about to tell him because oddly enough: he actually wears them. Mrs. Gloop knows a boy’s color palate when she sees it, and all of her offerings are acceptably black on black, with maybe a touch of neon. Ethel had not been previously aware that one could knit an iPad cover, but Mike is particularly pleased with that creation. Although Ethel privately suspects the device never really has the chance to get cold.Slightly more recently, well…she had rather liked it when Oleg Salt had rung up, even though he had insisted on calling her 'Mrs. Television’. Ethel has and has had her hands too full with Mike to even think about re-entering the dating scene, but she’s not dead: the Russian oligarch is a looker. She’s still not exactly sure what Mike might have said to him or his daughter, but she wouldn’t entirely mind if Mr. Salt had to call again. A lady can have her dreams on those cold Idaho nights. Whoever Mike has bothered this time is taking their time saying anything about it. There’s probably some way of finding out who they are, but she couldn’t possibly. His little computer phone intimidates her: it has no buttons. Best to just sit and wait and enjoy her son’s heavily drugged company and hope whoever she ends up having to speak to speaks English.

Mike’s head has lolled onto her shoulder, and Ethel is feeling particularly maternal, despite the fact that Mike has definitely already ruined her blouse, when his phone buzzes to life.

“Phooooooooone,” he mumbles into her neck.

“Oh. I…right,” Ethel says, to the phone mostly. “I just…”

She manages to retrieve the device without sending him tumbling to the floor, and then to wrangle one of his limp hands into activating the device, by placing his thumb over the little circle at the bottom herself. The phone is…alive now, but she has missed the call. She did see that the number was labelled something: Old Man. Her heart screeches to a stop for a second, like a needle across a record, but it couldn’t possibly be: Mike does not speak to his father. He would never have the man’s number saved in his phone, would he?

The device begins to vibrate in her hand again.

“Phone,” Mike mumbles.

“…Hello?” Ethel says, dubiously.

“Hello Mrs. T., I have some concerns,” the voice on the other end of the line (although Ethel supposes they don’t really use lines anymore) says.

She doesn’t know how he knows so quickly that it is her: this is Michael’s phone. Most people are at least a little confused when she answers it (which she does rarely, because when alert Michael does not allow her to touch his phone). It seems unlikely that he might have recognized her voice, although she recognizes his instantly. As if she could forget it.

“Mr. Wonka,” Ethel begins. “…whatever Michael did, I’m so sorry, but it really wasn’t his fault this time.”

“He’s sent me twenty-seven video messages, and I don’t mean to alarm you, but I suspect he may have gotten into some of your, uh, ‘lemonade’,” Wonka tells her.

“Oh, no,” Ethel protests. “I would never let him do that.”

Wouldn’t she? No, she wouldn’t. Not that Ethel isn’t a cool mom, but she needs that ‘lemonade’ for herself.

“Tell ‘im he’s old,” Mike tells her hair. “S’important an’ he needs to know.”

“He’s had his wisdom teeth out,” Ethel says, hoping Wonka cannot hear what Michael is saying.

“…oh,” Wonka replies.

The man sounds strangely small on the other end of the phone. Ethel supposes chocolatiers and dentists may be some sort of natural enemies, but she’s not sure that quite accounts for how he sounds.

“Mo-om,” Michael is saying in her ear, over and over. She can feel drool dripping down her back. At least, she hopes it is just drool.

“Also tell him he’s my friend.”

Michael is crying softly now, which is just sort of how coming off of meds like these goes. She knows better than to think it means anything.

“Heeeeeee’s my friend and it’s too late he just is,” Mike sobs.

She would place her hand over the receiver if this was any sort of normal phone, but Mike’s little black box doesn’t have one that she can find.

“It’s just the medication,” Ethel continues, apologetically over her son’s sobs. “They make him…like this, and he won’t remember it tomorrow, and I’m sure he’d appreciate if you didn’t say anything about it.”

There’s a thoughtful moment of silence from Wonka.

“My lips are sealed,” he finally says, which Ethel considers surprisingly mature of him, until the chocolatier goes on to say:

“I’ll just save these somewhere for future blackmail.”

Ethel rolls her eyes, but that does sound more like the Wonka she knows. Not that she knows him. Not, apparently, like Michael knows him.

“I should get back to him,” she says.

Mike is clinging to her waist.

“Of course,” Wonka says. And then: “…you know what they say, though: in vino veritas. Well, good-bye.”

Ethel does know that they say that. Of course she of all people would. It’s not something she puts much stock in.

But as her son puts his head in her lap and lets her stroke his hair (something he does secretly like even when he is sober) and mumbles something that sounds very much like ‘I love you’, she cannot help but hope that Wonka has a point.

#charlie and the chocolate factory #catcf broadway #fanfic #prompts #mike teavee #Ethel Teavee #willy wonka #dilf salt

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