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nutteu · 8 months

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kiss me with your lies (and baby i’ll love you even then) [Chapter IV]

[AO3 Chapter I] [AO3 Chapter II] [AO3 Chapter III] [AO3 Chapter IV] [AO3 Chapter V] [AO3 Chapter VI]

In the following weeks after the revelation, things had calmed down and picking up the pace simultaneously. It was hilarious, and they ultimately lost their shame and inhibitions. He had no problem whatsoever with it, however. But Toast, calm and relaxed with Sykkuno’s warm weight on his lap, still forgot that other people existed in this world. Specifically, in this house.

Toast had been given so many stinky eyes and a particularly thorough, awkward cold look from Brodin. Apparently, the sounds still travelled; apparently, Michael could predict when exactly they would fuck and would tell Brodin all about it so the man had no choice but to wait in apprehension. Yvonne had been complaining all the time about having a handful of butt naked Sykkuno who often got out of the room without pants when he wanted to eat. But aside from the unwanted flashing of Sykkuno’s oblivious ass, everything was more or less alright.

“Oh my God,” Yvonne groaned when she came down the stairs. “I did not want to wake up to the sight of this. They’re getting worse.”

“What is?” Scarra asked behind her, voice scratchy with sleep. He focused his eyes to the couch, and squinted, nodding slowly. “You’re right. Let’s evict them.”

Sykkuno squinted back at them, kneading the fabric on Toast’s chest, eyebrows going up and down in complete judgement. Toast hid a laugh as he pulled him closer by the waist, smelling the faint scent of jasmine and ashes. The last one had been coming off of Sykkuno in waves these days, to the point that even Brodin stopped him once to put a hand on his forehead, his neck. “I’m not dying,” Sykkuno blurted out, soft eyes blinking lazily. Brodin just shrugged then strolled away into his room.

“I remember fondly the days when Toast said that no cuddling whatsoever was happening,” Poki said, a wistful smile on her face. “Ah, the good old days.”

“Die in a fire,” Toast deadpanned, but relented nonetheless when Sykkuno needed his fingers to play with.

At times, he really was in wonder at this man’s behavior. He was easily distracted, easily focused, slept everywhere, stayed up all night, liked to claw at things now that Toast was used to the sharp tips, and liked to knead every soft fabric he came across. He did stupid things like licking grass just because he was curious, and he had this knack of doing things that went beyond his usual politeness or general common sense. He once asked Poki if he could maybe please borrow that pretty hair tie she was using, and then chewed on it to see how it felt like on his tongue. Poki laughed her ass off once she got over the initial shock.

“Have you been always like this? Or is this behavior exclusive in our house only?” Toast then asked, pushing away Sykkuno’s wandering fingers away from his hair. He had a new undercut, and the man had been alternatively feeling the short underside and pulling the strands at the top. It was painful and he had a feeling that he would actually have a bald patch sooner than later.

“A mix of both,” Sykkuno replied, unrelenting in his quest to pull out several strands of hair. “I have to be proper all the time in my house, but I’m pretty much like this in my own room.”

“You’re a fucking freak,” Michael called out from across the room.

Sykkuno shrugged. “Ironically, that’s true.”

“Proper? As in, noble-like proper?” Scarra asked, a frown on his face. When Sykkuno nodded, he opened his mouth again, eyes alight with interest. “No, no. Listen, you really are familiar. I just need to remember where. If it’s not the festival, then I’m sure somewhere around Vegas.”

Toast looked up at Sykkuno’s face, finding him stone-cold and painfully beautiful at the same time. No one would notice it, but the brown in Sykkuno’s eyes was a little bit brighter, the ring of black around it sluggishly bleeding into dark yellow. “I’m sure you’ll remember one day,” he said soothingly, placating the older man. “How about some sushi for dinner?”

The conversation easily changed, with Toast realizing that Brodin had been staring at the two of them. He looked at the man, nodding when he saw a raised eyebrow. Sykkuno was still so guarded whenever either of the house occupants strayed into the territory of his family, or his lineage. He was sure that they were bound to realize about Sykkuno steering the conversation clear from those subjects with his allure. But the more that Toast saw him using it, the more that he realized how effective and powerful it was. He didn’t even try, at this point; he just blatantly used it and got what he wanted when everyone was suddenly more interested in other conversations.

Sykkuno had always been soft spoken, a little bit weird, polite nearly all the time, had strange sense of humor, and subtle in all kind of senses. But instances like this reminded Toast of the night when he saw the fox for the first time—a brute force of seduction and cruelty. His allure was akin to seeing that type of brute force again.

He frowned. “Stop doing that,” Toast whispered into Sykkuno’s ears later on, pressing both of his wrists on the bed within the cage of his fingers. “Keep it to yourself if you don’t want to tell them, but don’t treat them like bumbling fools. They’re my friends, too.”

Sykkuno, who had been purring low in his throat—and wasn’t that a sight to see, a treat to hear—snapped his eyes open the moment Toast’s tone shifted into something dangerous, something threatening. “What do you mean?”

“Your allure,” Toast said, louder this time. He clenched his hands tighter when Sykkuno started to struggle. Why did he like to struggle so much when he was faced with uncomfortable conversation? It just made Toast wanted to crush his bo—no. Where the fuck did that thought come from? He took a deep breath, trying to calm his annoyance and sudden influx of violent thoughts. If Sykkuno really was bothered, then he could have broken free of Toast’s hold any time. He knew that the man was capable of that. “Just say that you’re uncomfortable talking about your identity. No need to use your allure. Do you think it’s funny? To see them redirect the conversation like you wanted? Like they’re some sort of performing monkeys?”

“That is not what I meant to do!” Sykkuno hissed, the syllables coming out harsher when it was accompanied by a strange sound from the back of his mouth. Like a cat—like an actual cat hissing. Only deeper, stronger, near a growl.

“Then what is it that you’re meant to do, huh?” Toast snapped, taunted. He wasn’t thinking right; somehow his slight annoyance opened the onslaught of foreign, dark thoughts inside his mind. He wanted to mock, to jeer, to taunt Sykkuno until his eyes bleed red again and Toast could hold him tighter and tighter until he begged and pleaded.

He jerked back his hands, surprised by his own thoughts. “What the fuck…” he whispered to himself.

But Sykkuno, who had been agitated before, heard him without knowing what was truly going on inside his head. He stood up straight, taking a pillow with him, fingers angrily kneading at the soft give of the material as he glared at Toast. “It’s my fault when I can’t control my instinct to protect myself,” he said coldly. “But of all people, I thought that you should have known that I meant no harm to anyone in this house—you most of all. If you’re so disgusted by what I can do, so be it. I’ll sleep somewhere else tonight.”

“What—?” Toast halfway asked, still musing in his thoughts. His hand was stretched out to grab onto Sykkuno’s shirt, but the man had slipped away, quick as sand, out of the room. He winced when the door was slammed closed.

He sat there, on his bed, looking down at the messed up comforter. What the fuck had just happened? What the hell was going on? How did it go so wrong, so fast? He just wanted to tell Sykkuno about what he felt about his use of allure. Those thoughts—were they… were they his curse? Was it still steadily growing stronger despite being appeased in the meantime by Sykkuno's presence?

Toast heaved a deep breath, again, and again. Trying to regain his footing when his world suddenly tipped on its edge to the sideways. It had been too long since he felt the despair because of his curse. He had been so caught up in the months he spent in bliss, worrying about Sykkuno instead of this ominous shadow looming over him. He knew that his strength was getting ahead of him; he had seen the glimpses of bruises on Sykkuno's skin despite his fast healing. Sure, he could control it because he liked seeing the marks Toast left on his skin, but this was different.

This was something out of his control, marks that were put on Sykkuno's skin with the sole intention of hurting him. Marks that were meant to control and claim instead of proofs of affection. Toast leaned back against the headboard, trembling all over from his panic. His breath was coming out shorter, faster. His fingers balled into fist, nails sinking deep into his skin until he could feel the pain; he clenched the fist over and over again in hurried, anxious motion.

Had it finally taken more and more of himself without toast realizing it, now that he wasn’t as careful and apprehensive as he was back then? Toast had to admit that he wasn’t the kindest guy around, wasn’t one to share empathy and sympathy so willingly nor easily. But Sykkuno had always been his exception, in everything. And yet, now he seemed to be the only one that his curse had targeted on, simply because Toast had fed it information of Sykkuno's strength, of how he could withstand his own inhumane force.

When he came to it, he only realized just how hard he was breathing, how the little noises he had been hearing came from himself in his panic and agitation. He tried to swallow, hard as it might, trying to alleviate his panic by clenching his fist tighter. This- this development… would it get even worse from here?

No… no. Toast was just surprised, that was all. He was surprised because he had been too careless in his joyful experience of being able to touch someone else again, in being with Sykkuno nearly all the time. He had found out about it pretty soon, only when it was just a thought instead of actions that he wasn’t aware of or one he could control. He could reign it in; he could suppress and beat it into submission. This wouldn’t happen again. Yes, that was the best course of action.

Sykkuno… let him rest somewhere else for the night. He was clearly agitated and petulant. There was no use of forcing him to go back here just to console Toast. He could do it on his own; Sykkuno also needed time to cool down his head. As of this development of his curse—Toast should hold it in. He could. He had been doing this nearly his whole life. He- he didn’t want to see the fear and sadness in those eyes; didn’t—didn’t want to make this as a reason for him to leave. Call him desperate, call him clingy, but Sykkuno had been the only one that had felt right, the only thing in this godforsaken life that he had done right. He loathed thinking that he could ruin this sooner than either of them was ready for.

Everything would be alright. Sykkuno would be back to his usual purring, licking grass-self by the morning. Toast would pamper him all day; he would skip work, even. Things would go back to usual, and his violent thought would no longer occupy his mind if he were feeling content. Yes, just- just wait until tomorrow. It would be alright. It had to be alright.

By the morning, Toast had calmed down considerably. He washed up, he took care of tidying his bed because Sykkuno liked the comforter neat and clean before he messed it up. It was earlier than the time he usually woke up to, and the rest of the house hadn’t shown up any activities either. Michael hadn’t come back yet from his lab, Lily was slaving away at her studio for her upcoming album, Scarra had another trip to some kind of supernatural event, and Yvonne was attending a seminar of similar nature.

Out of the human in this house, Yvonne and Scarra were the ones who took this supernatural matter seriously. Michael couldn’t give two shits about it unless it was interesting, or he could make them into subjects for his experiment; Poki was a tired mother of six, seven now, and she couldn’t be bothered with human or supernatural anymore. She just wanted the house to be in order and her children to at least not kill each other when she was away.

Yvonne worked hard in establishing the network of information for those who were involved in the supernatural world—be it humans or the supernatural creatures themselves. As a human who was surrounded by a lot of them, she wanted these people to be informed about their surroundings. Especially, if a loved one happened to be a creature or something similar like Toast. She was still learning, but her connections had spread far into several cities and she had had several seminars like the one she was currently attending. They usually discussed the nature of supernatural creatures, how to anticipate it, the important events and triggers of creatures, how humans could adapt around it, and things like that that would better prepare her and everyone else for unforeseeable future.

Scarra took it up a notch. He was a spokesperson, to sum it up. He had connections to the big names in the supernatural world. He grew up in an environment where creatures and humans alike mingled together. He wasn’t at all surprised, only intrigued, when he learned about Toast’s situation. He was actually the one who suggested Toast see Jody, a witch from the west, for the runed gloves. He played politics with the head of clans and families through multiple supernatural lineages, attended big events, helped settling down disputes, and essentially a member of the council of Los Angeles’ Supernatural Committee™—or whatever it was called. Toast didn’t quite remember.

What he remembered was that that council wasn’t an official one in real life, but seen as absolute power in the supernatural world. It didn’t quite dictate the way a government would, but they took care of the power source in the city, the disputes, war amongst clans, and essentially took notice of everyone that came in and out of the city. Sykkuno coming here from Las Vegas, unnoticed by Scarra was something weird in itself. Maybe that was why the guy was so interested in Sykkuno; why he kept pestering him about his identity. He didn’t react negatively, so surely Sykkuno wasn’t seen as a threat.

Maybe Toast should have seen it from Sykkuno's point of view, too. It must have been so uncomfortable to be poked and prodded like that about a lineage that pushed responsibilities into him to the point of him running away from home. There were little options to redirect the conversation because Toast knew that everyone in this house was curious about Sykkuno, even if they understood about his reasoning. Maybe they could come to a compromise; Toast could tell the others to back off from asking Sykkuno about this matter entirely, and Sykkuno could stop using his allure so forcefully on them.

It would be alright, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath and letting it out on a soft exhale.

It wasn’t alright, and it wasn’t even their fault. Not completely.

When he went out, ready to greet Sykkuno who probably slept on the couch or the kitchen table, or even probably curling up near the door, Toast needed to take a step back and grip the door handle so tight when he saw Sykkuno coming out of Brodin’s room. Something hot, something ugly and thick like tar, climbed up into his veins when Toast saw him rubbing his cheek on the front of Brodin’s shirt. He didn’t realize he had been walking, no, marching forward until he could yank Sykkuno away from the taller man.

“What the—Toast?!” Sykkuno exclaimed, surprise that molded into irritation clear on his face. “Let go. Now.”

Toast knew that Sykkuno was using his allure, but weirdly enough he wasn’t fazed. It hurt, however, to know that he had the gall to use it on Toast of all people. He looked up at Brodin, seeing the raised eyebrow and relaxed face. He wanted to be upset, to lash out, but his anger was strangely contained for this man. All of it was reserved for Sykkuno.

He nodded at Brodin. “Go back to your room,” he said coldly.

“You’re not in your right mind,” Brodin reminded him, gently. Though in Toast’s ears, it sounded like he was mocking him. “We all should sit down and talk it out. I’ll call Poki.”

Look at him, his mind whispered, Sykkuno chose him over you, didn’t he? He’s better than you. No curse, no anger, no violence for Sykkuno. What can you do, Jeremy? He sucked in a deep breath. He had been doing that a lot now, hadn’t he? Couldn’t help it when everything else around him seemed to be hell bent in making his blood pressure rise.

“Sykkuno and I will handle it on our own,” he replied curtly, before pulling the struggling Sykkuno along with him. He couldn’t; Toast’s hold on him was too strong, strong enough for all of them to hear the slight crack that made Sykkuno whimper, eyes steadily bleeding red and claws elongating as it sunk deep into Toast’s skin.

“Toast—“ Brodin started, stepping forward to halt them. He was stopped, however, when Toast turned. His eyes widened; disbelief and worry etched onto his face and made Toast wonder for a moment just what exactly did he see there.

“I said,” he growled out, “we’ll take care of it. On our own.”

He didn’t wait for any response before he dragged Sykkuno and slammed the door closed, locking it behind for good measure. He didn’t waste any time before he threw the slender body on the bed, caging Sykkuno with his hardened body and the tendrils of the curse enveloping him like a poisonous, warm embrace. He couldn’t spare the time to worry about it. Sykkuno was under him, and he was pissed off.

Good, Toast thought viciously.

“Jeremy,” Sykkuno said, deceptively calm. The mention of his name made something twinge inside Toast’s chest. “What, exactly, are you doing right now?”

“What,” he laughed, humorless as it was. “Not good enough for our pet names now, Sykkuno?”

Sykkuno's red eyes narrowed, the circle of bright yellow starting to show around the red irises. “Answer my question.”

“Of what am I doing?” Toast asked mockingly, then his face twisted into something unfamiliar, something Toast couldn’t remember ever doing in his life. “What are you doing, huh?”

“I told you,” the fox replied, still so frustratingly calm despite the pupil already turning into a slit. “I would sleep somewhere else for the night. Because you were being unreasonable, and I know that you were intending to hurt me last night. Don’t think me as a fool, Jeremy. I saw your face.”

So it showed on my face, huh. Toast sneered. “So what? It doesn’t matter now. I waited for you to calm your head down, I tried my best to control myself. And this what I got? You, sleeping around? And here I thought I’m the one who’s touch-starved here. Didn’t know you’re that desperate to be touched, Sykkuno. I would have passed you around the house like a whore if that’s what you want!”

The punch that followed resounded in the room with a crack. Toast grunted as he was pushed out of the bed, pushing himself up from the cold, hard floor. The side of his face was pulsing hot, stinging from the gash that had slowly knitted itself up on his cheek. He was flushed with anger, barely able to restrain himself so he could talk. All he wanted was to tackle Sykkuno down and break his limbs so he would understand, so he would know his place—he was meant to be by Toast’s side, and no one else’s.

Sykkuno was coiled up so tight on the bed, a foot already on the floor as if he was ready to pounce any second now. His claws were filled with Toast’s blood, his fangs bared as the constant low growl emanated from his throat. His eyes were bright red, red, red, thunderous with murder and anger in them. “Watch your mouth,” he said, the same deep timbre when his fox had come out for the first time; as if there were two people speaking instead of one. “One wrong word, and I’ll slice that pathetic head of yours off your shoulders.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try, little fox,” Toast taunted, though he also raised his fists in preparation. If they couldn’t talk, if Sykkuno couldn’t see his reason, his way of thinking, then violence was the last answer he should utter.

He was prepared when the man suddenly lunged from the bed, straight into him with impossible speed and reflexes. He grabbed the hands trying to claw at him, their fingers clasped tightly in a mockery of handhold as they struggled to overthrow each other. Sykkuno was strong, Toast realized. Stronger than he had anticipated, stronger than even him right now. He could feel the give of his bones under the imaginable force, wincing when the pressure became worse.

But there was… something. Something in him that whispered so sweetly of power, of control, of chaining Sykkuno down by his side. They already had that chain which connected them, so why not used it for its actual purpose? He felt around for the tendrils of darkness in his chest, reaching in and tugged.

The result was shown in an instant; Sykkuno cried out as Toast pushed back, bones creaking under the sudden onslaught of strength as he swung the man across the room. He watched, in sick satisfaction as the body hit the wall with a loud thud. Toast stalked over, eyes widening in surprise when Sykkuno immediately got up and swiped his legs underneath Toast’s to topple him over. The fox was on him in an instant when Toast fell down.

He grabbed one of the wrists in his hand, the other was too slow before Sykkuno's claws sunk into his shoulders deep enough to tear flesh; deep enough that Toast could feel the sharp tip on his bones. He ground the slender wrist between his fingers, feeling the give of flesh and muscles under his fingertips as Sykkuno instinctively tried to tug away his hand.

“Don’t try,” Sykkuno warned. “Don’t you fucking try, Jeremy. I’ll tear your shoulder off if you ever moved.”

“Let’s see who’s faster, shall we?” Toast said, smirking despite the pain. “Will you tear my shoulder apart first, or will I break your arm first?”

“What an arrogant, pathetic human,” Sykkuno spoke, in that deep timbre of dual person. “You’ll die if I actually tried.”

“Maybe I will,” he said lightly, eyes narrowing in a glare as he tugged on another tendril and feeling the surge of power inside him. “But I won’t die so easily. You will go down with me, Sykkuno.”

“You insolent—“ Sykkuno raged out, dragging his claws down and opening up gashes on Toast’s shoulder. He grunted in pain when Toast growled out and clenched tight enough to snap his bones. Their regeneration was working in full force, trying to catch up with all the wounds showing up everywhere one second after another. “You don’t know anything!”

“I know enough!” Toast shouted, protecting his stomach when Sykkuno slipped out to land a punishing kick on him. He still felt his breath being knocked out of his chest when he slid backward from the impact. He sprang on his feet, lunging at Sykkuno and pushing him roughly against the wall, laughing when the head hit it with a resounding bang and a light crack. “One, fucking one argument and you’re already running to Brodin?! Who exactly are you helping here, huh?!”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with it!” Sykkuno shouted back, slipping a leg between them with his flexibility and kicking hard enough with the sole of his feet that Toast stumbled back. “Listen to yourself! Are you really someone worth helping when you’re being such a jerk?! I’m not yours! I’m not your anything but your friend and companion, Toast! I told you how people tried to claim me and put me on their side, I told you how they chain me down and you want to do exactly the same thing?! Are you out of goddamned mind?!”

“Shut up!” Toast roared. “You are mine, and you will always be. I’ll break your legs so you can’t go anywhere if it’ll help you to understand.”

“You’ve lost it,” Sykkuno said, despairing and terrifyingly broken despite the determination in his eyes. For a second, Toast faltered, his mind clearing for a moment to allow the acute pain from seeing those expressions on the man’s face, before his words registered and his mind became clouded again.

What came after were punches and kick and claws that tore into flesh, hands that broke bones. Toast had never been this angry, this frenzied, this- this mad in his entire life. Why wouldn’t Sykkuno understand? Why was it so hard for him to realize that he was supposed to be Toast’s?

Toast found him, brought him here, protected him, offered him a place and companionship and a found family to find comfort into. Toast was the one who understood his pain and his loneliness. Toast was the one who was able to hold and fulfill his vessel. Toast was the one he whispered his secrets to. Toast was the one who accepted him as the rain and thunder, as death and deceit. It was Toast.

He was faintly aware that he was bleeding sluggishly from the wound on his stomach, and Sykkuno's leg was bent in a weird angle despite him standing up straight. The fox was getting wilder and wilder by the second. Toast was late in realizing that Sykkuno's human ears were gone completely, replaced with two fox’s ears atop his head, with its tip in red-orange fur. The skin around Sykkuno's eyes was outlined with sharp red lines, his fangs gleaming with blood.

God, he looked beautiful. Toast wanted to break him.

The banging on the door was getting louder and louder. He could hear Poki, could hear Brodin calling out for them. Brodin—even remembering his name brought back the memory of Sykkuno pressed up so close to the man, looking contented and happy. That person should have been Toast; should have been no one but him.

With renewed vigor, he leapt forward to land a punishing grip on Sykkuno's neck, unrelenting even as the man growled and yowled around the tight clasp of fingers. He gasped, mouth filling up with blood when Sykkuno's claws stabbed into his sternum, but he kept his grip tight. The tendrils around his chest had spread so far that Toast felt like if he bled out, there would be nothing but tendrils of shadow that could be seen inside of him. He felt vicious, mad, he felt so powerful he could kill this person that he cared about the most.

“You prance around acting like a goddamned innocent cat, while we both know you’re nothing but a fucking filth,” he whispered cruelly. “You think you’re helping me? When you’re the one who got everything but all I got is this fucking fox who doesn’t know how to stay faithful? Go back to your family if that’s what you want, Sykkuno,” he spat out. “See how they’re treating you. I’ll wait here when you plead and beg me to take you back.”

“I should kill you,” Sykkuno gritted out as Toast gripped his windpipe harder. “I’ll fucking kill you, you ungrateful mongrel.”

Toast leaned close, eyes alight with cruelty and anger. “Try.”

Before Sykkuno could sink his claws and fingers further to grip his heart, before Toast could break his neck, the door was slammed open, cracking from its hinges. Brodin was standing there, eyes a deep burgundy as Poki held a sword on her side. They both looked panicked and worried; Poki’s eyes glistened in tears and sorrow when she saw the state they were in.

“Get Toast,” she said to Brodin. Then, she turned to Sykkuno, eyes pleading. “Sykkuno, please, come here.”

Before either of them could react, Brodin had moved first. He pushed Toast away, unceremoniously pulling out Sykkuno's claw from his sternum as he cried out in pain. He struggled, uncaring of the pain in Brodin’s face as he gripped one shoulder until it cracked under his palm. What he couldn’t see, was the knives ladened with runes that Brodin pierced through his arms and legs, pinning him in place. He couldn’t move; it wasn’t just from the pain, it was as if there was a barrier there that held him down.

“Sykkuno,” Poki pleaded, “please, come here. Let him go. You need some time away from Toast, come on.”

Sykkuno was still running high on adrenaline, a tail that Toast hadn’t noticed before swished in agitation as he coiled tight when Poki came close. He himself tried to struggle against the knives, but when Brodin lifted his leg from his chest and came to pacify the fox, Toast knew that there was no way he could ever move. If he was left without supervision, then the knives were strong enough to hold him down even with his current power.

“Sykkuno,” Brodin tried, voice firm and leaving no room for argument. When Sykkuno just hissed at him, claws extended and ready to cut them up to pieces, he turned to Poki and said, “Get the pine leaves. Yvonne should be right about this.”

Poki ran as fast as she could, sword sheathed back on its case as she disappeared from the room. Toast felt the tendrils filled up his head. It was hard to think, hard to breathe, hard to move. He felt like he was detaching from his own body, feeling his soul forcefully being sealed up inside a dark cage where he couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything with his own eyes, his own ears. He felt like everything he saw and heard was from an echo somewhere outside of this dark realm.

Where was this? What happened to him?

He heard the footsteps, feeling his head glancing at Poki reappearing into the room as if seeing from an outsider’s point of view. It didn’t feel like he had just moved. It felt like he had just watched his head move. What the fuck was happening? The anger and viciousness was still inside, all over him, but it no longer felt like they were his own. Were they—were they ever his to begin with?

“Sykkuno?” Poki called out, voice trembling a little. “I-Inari? Inari Ōkami?”

There was an answering growl from Sykkuno, albeit a lighter one than before. He put down his claws slowly, tilting his head curiously as Poki offered him the small branch filled with somehow fresh leaves that Toast felt familiar with. He hadn’t seen that kind of leaves before, but he knew it.

Takasago pine, his mind whispered from somewhere far away. He stepped closer to the edge of his cage, wanting to see the leaves closer. Sykkuno had reached out to the branch, feeling the leaves on the small wood. Slowly, ever so slowly, his claws receded; his ears reverted back to his tresses. The tail stayed there, but then again his eyes were still red-yellow though there were no longer lines of red around the corners of them. There was something about that branch, about that pine tree it was supposed to come from—something soothing and familiar to Sykkuno.

“Sykkuno?” Poki called out again, stepping closer this time.

This time, when Sykkuno lifted his face, there was a small smile there. “Hi, Miss Poki,” he said, voice hoarse and back to its usual lightness. “I’m—I’m sorry for the mess.”

Toast felt himself looked around, realizing with a sense of loss as he saw the state of destruction it was in. The cupboards were smashed, nightstand toppled over with the lamp, the bed a war zone. There were multiple splatters of blood, Sykkuno's claw marks, and small crater from his fists on the walls, on the mattress, on the both of them. Strangely enough, his body didn’t feel panicked or saddened at all. It was completely calm.

This isn’t my body, Toast realized with a dawning sense of horror, not anymore.

He renewed his struggle against the cage, screaming and calling out for Sykkuno, anyone. But his body remained still, only looking at his friends with a cold, calculating smile in place; a smile that didn’t feel like his.

“We’ll fix it later,” Brodin reassured him. “But now we have to patch you up first, before we can call for help for Toast.”

At the mention of his name, Sykkuno's eyes widened. He let go of the branch as he rushed forward to reach the body strapped on the floor with knives. “T-Toast!”

Brodin and Poki both moved to prevent him. “Not now, Sykkuno,” Poki warned. “He’s out of control; we need to call for help first, okay? Please, just- just let us help him.”

“No one can help him but me right now!” Sykkuno snapped. Toast could recognize his struggle of not letting his fox took over.

“He literally just mangled you to pieces, Sykkuno!” Poki shouted, eyes hard even if her lips were trembling. She did love her friends, and it pained her to see them like this, when she could do nothing more but to deal with the aftermath.

“He’s not himself!” Sykkuno insisted.

“Of course he’s not himself!” she hissed. “Please, can’t- can’t we talk about this later?”

“We can’t,” Sykkuno said, eyes hardening despite himself. “Didn’t you hear yourself? He’s not himself. His curse had taken over, and I- I was too late in realizing it. Please, let me help him, okay?”

Poki glanced up at Brodin, face a myriad of emotions as she shook her head slightly. But Brodin just sighed and let Sykkuno go, pulling down Poki’s arms along with him. “Let him try.”

As soon as he was free from their hold, Sykkuno rushed forward to pull out the knives restricting Toast’s body. Toast tried his best to scream, to convey that it wasn’t him, that the knives were the only ones preventing him from hurting them all. But he was trapped inside, with no way to reach out.

He shivered; there was no wind, no heat, nothing but darkness here. He couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t do anything but wait here, trapped in his own body. He wasn’t just losing himself, he had lost it altogether; his mind, his body, his voice, his limbs. All that was left was his soul. He didn’t know whether it was enough to undo the damage.

He wanted to cry, wanted to give up. For more than twenty years, he had tried to keep this curse at bay. He had tried everything to make sure that despite the curse, he would still be humane enough for his friends and family, for Sykkuno. And yet, in just a night, he had lost every single one of his effort. What would become of him now? Was this a punishment? What should he do now? Toast was afraid; he was scared of not being able to do anything, of having the control and the right to his own body being ripped away like this. All he wanted was to gather Sykkuno in his arms, and be held back with such warmth and safety that Toast had likened to his presence now.

As soon as the last knife was out, Toast’s body lunged forward, but to their surprise, Sykkuno was faster. He sat on Toast’s lap, claws retracted and mere inches from his heart. “I know it’s not him. I don’t know what kind of thing you are, but even if he has to go down with you, I’ll make sure to make you suffer before I kill you. I’m not afraid of doing it; Toast would want to have you gone rather than have you running around hurting his friends.”

Toast felt his lips stretched out in a smirk that was too wide, too cruel. “You’re pretty smart, little fox,” he heard himself say. It was his own voice, and it disgusted him to hear it being uttered by someone else that wasn’t him. “But you’re also too afraid of yourself to completely save him. No one can save him, and he can’t save you either. This body is mine, and you will be mine, too. Where else would you go but his arms, after all?”

Sykkuno gritted his teeth, his eyes burning brighter for a second before the growl came out. “Get out,” he said, along with another voice in his timbre. “His body is his, and I am my own person. You’ll get nothing out of us.”

“Oh?” the Curse said, tilting his head a little as he surged forward in a blink, holding Sykkuno's hand in a tight grip that made him wince. “And how would you make me… ah, get out of my own body, little darling? You like that, don’t you? Like it when he calls you that.”

“Don’t you fucking call me that with your disgusting voice,” Sykkuno said coldly. He glanced to the side when the sound of Poki’s sword being unsheathed was heard. Brodin had circled around them, another knife ready at his hand.

The Curse looked at them, then laughed; something cruel, something that shouldn’t come out of Toast’s mouth without his permission. “You’re a funny one, little love. I am him. You’re looking at me now, don’t you? You can’t force me out, you don’t know how to kill me without killing him, and you don’t even know how to bring back your beloved Jeremy now, either, do you?”

Toast slumped back into his cage. He was trembling all over; the curse was right. Now that it had taken over his body, there was nothing they could do to take it back. If no one could even lessen the effect so far, how could anyone help them in this situation?

And yet, Sykkuno's answering smile was both beautiful and threatening, and Toast watched from inside the cage, wide-eyed, as the man said, “I do, actually.”

The Curse frowned. “Stop fooling yourself, you fucking filthy fox. What do you know about—“

The sentence was cut short when a piercing scream came out of its mouth, as Sykkuno framed his face and whispered in a language that none of them understood. Toast got up when the ground beneath the cage shook terribly. The tendrils were curling in on itself as Sykkuno's eyes glowed; he faintly heard from inside the cage as thunders hurled outside, the sudden heavy rain that pelted down the roofs and windows. There was a sort of soft flame that came out of Sykkuno's tail, one that transferred directly to his whole body, enveloping him, enveloping Toast’s body along with it.

Toast felt himself got lighter and lighter and as more grueling screams poured out of his mouth. Sykkuno had stopped chanting, but he held him down still, rubbed his thumb on Toast’s cheek gently even when the yellow slit of his eyes were hard with the same thunder that cracked ominously outside. He whispered, softly, delicately, as if Toast was the most precious thing on earth to him, “Come back to me, Toast. I’m waiting for you. I’ll always wait for you.”

He didn’t know how long it lasted. Between his soul being freed from the cage of darkness, the storm raging outside, and the pain that had started to register all over his body, time was but a faraway concept to him. Only Sykkuno's gentle voice that made him hold on through it all, clinging to it like it was his last lifeline, the way that Sykkuno was to him. A lifeline, a stray cat, beloved.

When he came to, he was slumped against the bed, with Sykkuno on his lap. Poki was waiting with worry etched onto her frowning face, a set of medical kit on her hands. Brodin was trying to clean the mess as best as he could. He looked up to Sykkuno's tired, pale face, feeling sluggish and very much in pain.

“Sy…kkuno?” he croaked out, voice just a mere above a whisper.

The relief that bloomed on Sykkuno's face made him smile. “Hey, Toast,” he greeted softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he said, laughing a little. God, even laughing hurt.

Sykkuno chuckled along with him. The flame died down gradually until nothing was left but his glowing red eyes. The ears and tail had disappeared along with the claws. All that was left were dainty fingers caressing his face gently. “Your curse is out of commission right now,” he said. “Your healing has to be done manually this time around. It’s still there, but it’s currently dormant. By the rate of it growing, I’m afraid that it’ll only a few days before it comes back again. But I absorbed the curse quite a lot, so hopefully it won’t be as vengeful when it returns.”

He nodded, feeling so, so tired of everything right now. All he wanted was to sleep and hold Sykkuno close. But he couldn’t even do that because his bed was a mess right now. He didn’t even want to think about the amount of cleaning, repairing, and replacing that he had to do. It was for later. Right now, he had to do the most important thing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered weakly. “For everything I’ve done and said. I’m sorry. I meant some of them, and I’m sorry about that.”

“I know,” Sykkuno said, carding his fingers through his hair and leaning in to kiss Toast firmly on his lips. “I did too. I’m sorry, Toast.”

“You can—“ he tried, swallowing hard because no, he didn’t want it but he had to say this. “You can leave however, whenever you want, you know? I just wish that you’ll stay a little bit longer.”

The smile Sykkuno gave to him was watery this time around. He leaned forward again, and Toast melted into the kiss with him. “I will,” he whispered against Toast’s lips, “thank you, Toast.”

“As much as I’m touched with this mushy, lovey-dovey shit,” Poki’s voice interrupted, a hint of laughter in it. “Toast, you really need those wounds bandaged up. God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad the curse has healed the tear on your abdomen. Sykkuno, you’re fucking nasty. I love it.”

“Uh,” Sykkuno stammered. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I mean, I meant to, but not in like- like—“

“I know, you dumbass,” she laughed this time. And then, softer, “I know. Let’s clean up you both first before we all talk, okay?”

She got them cleaned up and bandaged as best as she could. They were all deposited in the living room now as Brodin was still trying to clean up their mess. Toast owed that guy a lot. He looked at Sykkuno, who was laying his head on Toast’s lap. He reached out to ruffle his hair, then carded his fingers through the strands. The hair was greasy from sweat and some of them clumped together from blood. He didn’t mind. He was probably in worse state right now considering that Sykkuno had claws and he didn’t. His clothes had to be thrown away; they were torn to shreds.

“I’ve called Scarra and Yvonne a while ago,” Poki said, stepping closer with food at hand. Toast took it gratefully. He was starving after exerting that much energy. Sykkuno ate his at slower pace, always so proper even unconsciously. Toast wondered just what kind of life he had led all this time. “They should be here soon. I’ve notified Lily and Michael, too. But they’re still tied up with work. They’ll be here in a few days.”

“Okay,” Sykkuno nodded. “We’ll wait until Scarra and Yvonne arrive, and then we’ll talk. There’s something I need to warn you about.”

“The curse?” Poki asked.

Sykkuno bit his lip. “Not just the curse.”

“Okay,” she nodded, patting his head. “It’s okay, Sykkuno. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

The man nodded, chewing on his food thoughtfully before he looked up at Poki again. Toast watched them in silence; he barely had any strength left in him right now. “How… how did you know?” Sykkuno asked. “About the Takasago pine and how to call me back then?”

“Oh,” Poki smiled. “Yvonne told me. Brodin sensed you first, he said that you might be a fox? So I called Yvonne and she told me that in an enraged fox, there’s always the god that accompanies it, and I have to call it accordingly. The Takasago pine is one of the offering because in Shinto belief, pine trees hold great power. And that the kami use the branches of pine trees to descend to earth, and therefore many of their spirits reside within them. Am I saying it right?”

“You are,” Sykkuno grinned, pleased. “Yvonne did her research well.”

“Does it tie to what you’re about to tell us?” Toast asked, speaking for the first time. He smiled when Sykkuno nodded, a little bit hesitantly. “It’s okay.”

“Okay,” the man replied softly. He drank some water and took the plate and glass from Toast’s hand when he was done. “How are you feeling now?”

He mulled over it for a moment. There were a lot of things that he wanted to say, but didn’t know how to say them. In the end, he just settled with honesty. “I’m afraid,” he said.

“Oh, Toast,”’ Poki whispered, taking one of his hands on hers. “We’re here, we’ll listen to you. You’re heard.”

“Yeah,” he said bitterly, “for now. There’s a- a cage, inside me. Made from the tendrils of the curse. Last night when we fought, I started having these… violent thoughts, about hurting you. Only you. I was so startled that I didn’t know what to do when you left. This morning, when I saw you and Brodin, I didn’t feel a speck of anger for him, though I was annoyed. I was just… angry. At you.”

“Only me,” Sykkuno repeated. “The curse recognizes me as a threat and source of power. I balance it out, and you seek me out for comfort. I’m most probably your strongest and weakest link now.”

“Yes,” he said. “But… there’s something… more. I don’t know how to explain it. When the curse made me say all of those things, I was so sure that you’re mine, that you’re supposed to be mine. I don’t know where it came from. I just assumed that it was from the curse. But the curse mainly has anger and cruelty for you, and yes, possessiveness. But it feels different. I- I remember thinking about the chain.”

“The chain?” Poki interjected.

“You know about the chain, right?” he asked Sykkuno instead, sighing in relief when the man nodded. “It’s something metaphorical. I feel a connection to Sykkuno that just feels right. I see it as a connecting chain instead of a caging one. The curse wants me to use it to trap you here. I- I don’t want to ever see you trapped. You’ve had enough of it.”

“As you do,” Sykkuno said gently, holding Toast’s knee in warm hand. “We can still be connected, without either of us chained up. How- how does it feel, down there?”

Oh, God. Toast bit his lip hard, thinking of ways to explain it. He didn’t feel like he wanted to, but he wanted to reach out, to tell what he was feeling and thinking. He didn’t want to make himself feel lonely on this one. He had been alone enough in his entire life.

“Awful,” he said. “I have no control over my body, my mind, my mouth. It was my soul, that was trapped down there. I can only watch as it hurt you. When I was mad, I felt the tendrils of it inside my chest. I thought it was a source of power so I drew from it as much as I could.”

Sykkuno unconsciously rubbed at his neck, and Toast smiled wistfully, reaching to rub on the now unblemished skin with his thumb. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” the man nodded, gesturing for Toast to continue.

“The tendrils,” he then said, “are a trap. It needs to be strong enough to cage me down there. I couldn’t breathe, right before it took me over. I just—it was scary, being alone and not having control of myself. I told you before, that I was afraid of losing myself. I thought that I’ve finally lost it, before you brought me back.”

Sykkuno got up to hug him, careful with his wounds. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said into the crook of Toast’s neck. “I’m sorry that I hurt you, too. I’m so sorry, Toast, I’m sorry I’m not strong enough to help you.”

“It’s okay,” he said, hugging him back tightly. He felt Poki joined them, and slipped a hand free to pat her head. She might be a ruthless woman who could make other people bend down to her will, but she was still a dear friend. She must have been so shocked by what had happened. “It’s okay. You’re here, that’s all that matters to me.”

They stayed like that for a while, just basking in each other’s presence and warmth. It was so lonely and cold down there, and Toast was relishing the feeling of not having to be there anymore. Maybe, someday he’d end up there forever, but for now, these people would help him as best as they could and he trusted that they would.

“Wow,” Brodin said, emerging from the room. “I’m gone to do the heavy lifting, and already left out of the group hug. I’m hurt.”

They laughed, grateful for the small moments in their chaotic lives. They spent their times talking in low voices, a point of connection with each other in Poki’s hand holding Toast’s, Sykkuno's head on his lap, Brodin’s arm around his shoulders. The curse could take over his body, but it couldn’t take away this.

#video blogging rpf #shiki writes #from ao3 #toastkkuno #disguisedtoast #sykkuno #brodin plett #pokimane #lily pichu #scarra #michael reeves #yvonne ng #supernatural elements #chaptered fic #kiss me with your lies

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obeymematches · 3 years

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Are ask still open? Hope so, but i wanna request the bothers and undatable (are they still undatable tho?) Reacting to MC turning into the cute pink sheep, she can still walk but can only make cute noises to communicate (can be gender neutral if u want)

Always wanted to see one of these in the fandom but never found one

aaaaaaa this has been sitting in my drafts for AGES i completely forgot oh noooooo

i'm so sorry anon nonono-😰

Everyone reacts to you turning into a pink sheep

Lucifer: There he is; waiting for his evening coffee to brew in the kitchen. You walk in as a little pink sheep, making him glance over at you. Bestie, I don't think he was ready for this one. Whatever potion making attempt went wrong he can fix without further consequences; though he thinks you look kinda cute like this so you might as well stay-

Mammon: He walks into your room to find you rocking your new pink wool and four legs look; freaking out at first. Takes him quite some time to realize it is in fact, you. After he immediately takes out his phone and snaps pictures for blackmailing and joking purposes. Takes you to Satan to help you get back into your human form... too bad he was never any good at potions, this would have been the chance to impress you. Though he might try anyways, but chances are you are going to end up worse.

Leviathan: This man is so close to fainting when he notices a pink little sheep marching into his room. Once you baa at him like the little sheep you are he jumps a little. This cannot be real. How could this happen. MC you should have told him you were going to practice today- Though he takes pictures to save them to a secret album he is preparing, filled with your memories together!

Satan: His eyes open wider than you've ever seen, as your pink wool arises on the horizon. Has no idea it is actually you - and not a random sheep one of his brothers got for whatever unhinged reason - until he notices you went missing. I wouldn't say he laughs at you, but he is definitely enjoying himself in this situation. Can fix the situation easily so no worries, though he has nothing against taking care of you as a sheep.

Asmodeus: AAAA IT'S SO CUTE are you kidding!! Please get the phone out of his hand if you don't want to trend on Devilgram as a fluffy little pink sheep- He wouldn't prefer you in this form but honestly, now that it happened he can make the best out of it. I mean he still loves you, regardless! Cuddles you and takes you everywhere with him, now that you are so tiny and fluffy. Wouldn't insist on changing you back but obviously there is going to be a fight about that with his brothers.

Beelzebub: I'm aware I'm doing him dirty right now but; he might mistake you as cotton candy if you are not careful enough. Do not lay on the kitchen table / counter as long as you are in this form, is all I'm saying. He'd be glad to help you change back if you wanted it (as in asking help from someone else for you) and tbh he is clearly one of the only ones who wouldn't take pictures for fun. Absolutely find you adorable though-

Belphegor: What is going on. Has no clue it is you at first; he might use you as a fluffy pillow (love that for him) and he only awakens when his brothers charge in, concerned about your whereabouts, getting you out from under his head- So relieved and a bit shocked when he learns he used you as a pillow. Not that he doesn't do that any other time though.

Solomon: He was there when the accident happened, so he knows from the start it's you. Doesn't get upset or worried at all, mistakes exist to learn from them, after all! Good thing he was there with you though. Insist on figuring out what you did to make this happen, after all, you never know when you'll need to turn into a cute little pink sheep, do you??

Diavolo: What new species is this- The wonders of this world, really- Can't help but laugh when he figures out that it's you. Don't be mad at him though, he doesn't want to be mean, it's just the situation at hand- Might want to shear you so he gets to keep your cute fluffy wool as a token to remember this day. It will be easily one of his most treasured items! (ah imagine turning back into a human & being bald. oh lord-)

Barbatos: You would think he isn't going to be amused by this situation and you'd be so wrong to assume that. No, he is not taking pictures, but you definitely have to go out of your way if you want him to help turn you back. Enjoys carrying you around, though he can't look after you the entire day... Would have a conversation with you while you are in your vulnerable sheep form, only being able to reply in sheep noises. It's ok, you are his beloved sheep, after all.

Simeon: Similar to Barbatos, he'd also strike up a conversation just to tease you a little or to make you feel involved, depending on the situation. Acts very shocked when you start protesting being a sheep, as if you were a kid talking about something obvious you just learned about- No, unfortunately he is not going to turn you back. You are just too adorable for your own good MC, I'm sorry, it's not going to happen-

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doctorbeth · 4 years

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Stripes the 50 year old tiger

This will be a longer post, because it’s all about the details, and there was a lot of going back and forth with photos and emails to get Stripes and his stripes just right. So be sure you’re comfy when you sit down to read it. :-)

***************

Stripes person first wrote to me back in December about her tiger, Stripes, and his companion RedEye the snake. Both were starting to feel their age, but as she said,

“ As you can see Stripes is in the most need of repairs. Personally, I’m guessing that a full recovering is needed, but I’m certainly no expert and will follow your advice. Here are some pics which show Stripes fur disappearing and soon he will be bald. Amazingly he has no damage that I can find. His ears need some stuffing, but they have never been tall, firm standing Teddy Bear ears.”

Here are the diagnosis photos she sent:

As you can see, his belly section was pretty good, but his furry parts were wearing and fading. His person really wanted his fur recovered, in an orangier rather than tanner fur, and she opted for him to have a spa too.

Here he is in his bubble bath:

Once he was dry, he got restuffed and of course, got a heart with a bit of his original stuffing. Here’s his heart being made:

Then it was time to choose furs. As some of you know who’ve been reading for a while, usually with tigers we use a solid fur of the preferred background color, then add the stripes by hand afterwards. Here were the best fur options:

His person opted for the orangier, furrier one.

Stripes got recovered, and some smaller wounds on his belly were sewn. Then, it was time for hand striping. I did some basic striping, and then sent photos for feedback:

His person’s first response was:

Beth, you’ve made me cry at work. I’m absolutely over the moon with Stripes new look!!! Holy cats he’s looking beautiful!! You are AMAZING!

But I was asking for striping feedback, and she happily provided it:

The stripes. Thank you for being so conservative. :) I would like to add some more stripes. I’ve included an updated pic that shows where I would like some stripes added.

Tail: Could you put 2 stripes in a ring pattern around the tail? They continue the black spots you started. I also noticed with other Gund tigers that the ring was painted at a slight angle or sprayed as 2 “halves”, not a straight ring that looked like a raccoon’s tail. (pics) I know that there was more black at the tip of the tail, but I don’t think the whole tip was black.

Back Leg: I’ve continued your 3 spots into stripes.

Body: I’ve added 2 stripes, but if you will notice stripe #2 is in the shape of a ‘V”. (I remember this detail as a child) The stripes do NOT have to line up with the fabric underneath. They didn’t before. :D

Face: I’ve added a short stripe above Stripes’ right eye. This detail always gave him a slight serious look without being mean. (not a lot of slant to the line, if any) I have always loved this detail about him. And I’ve elongated the stripe on his forhead.

Beth, I’m pretty sure we will be adding some more stripes to the back, especially his head but I thought we might tackle this bit first.

She closed with:

Again, I just absolutely can’t thank you enough for your beautiful and loving work on my best friend. I have been showing people the before and after pics for the last 5 hours. I’m so happy!!!

So back to drawing stripes on Stripes I went. Here are the next batch of photos:

Stripes person was thrilled:

Stripes looks spectacular!! I mean he is just awesome with the stripes that you’ve filled out.

She wanted just one more stripe. She sent a photo, but it was in another format, so I won’t put it here, but she also described what she wanted very well:

So I just have 1 more stripe for you. If you look at my pic, you will see that I’ve drawn a line over the small black dot that is on his forehead. In the last pic you sent me you can still see that it’s just a spot and not a stripe. Could you lengthen that spot into a stripe for me?

Please note the position. When you are seated facing Stripes, this stripe includes/starts at the black spot and runs towards the right. You have a pretty stripe that’s higher on the head already placed on the left so this one goes off to the right and is the same length as that one.

Adjustment made, I sent another photo (you can see the printout with her line instruction next to him):

Her response:

Perfection Achieved! I’m so so happy!!!! How many exclamation points can I put in an email to show you how perfect Stripes is!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So Stripes got packed up and headed home to a grateful human and snake. Here he is at home with his pal, RedEye:

His person was soooo happy! She wrote a very long thank you, with a history of Stripes and RedEye, and I don’t want to edit it, so I’m copying it entirely here for you to read. But you can skip it if you want and just know she was happy!

Hi Beth,

Sit back and relax. This may be a little bit of a long happy read. :D Please feel free to use any content or pics from my emails for your blog.

I waited anxiously for Stripes to arrive. Yes, my husband signed for the box and I couldn’t wait to get home!

And so the moment has arrived. I brought Stripes best friend Redeye in from the bedroom to help me open the package. We open, I close my eyes dig in past the packing peanuts and pull out our best friend. Oh My Goodness! He is beautiful! bright! and colorful! He practically glows! I see his face. Yes, yes! It’s Stripes! I see the same face I’ve gazed into and loved for 50 years. And that’s when the tears start. Crying, mouth open in shock but my husband says he’s never seen me happier. ..After many long years, I can finally cuddle my friend again.

Beth you have given me back something I thought I would never have again. I love Stripes so, but I couldn’t, didn’t dare to pet him or cuddle him. I had to be so gentle, so afraid that I was doing more damage to him. But now all that is over! I can sleep with my buddy by my side. I can take him on vacations again! I’m tearing up just writing this. I can’t express my joy…absolute joy over the work you have done. Stripes looks like a beautiful and bright toy again. Thank you Beth. Thank you so very much.

…And I’ll be sending Redeye to you some time in February. I’ll be sure to email you first to start the process.

And here’s a little history about Stripes. Stripes was a Christmas present in 1969. I have always loved tigers and I was in deep love the moment I saw him. He has enjoyed play tea parties with me, and watched drive-in movies sitting in the back window. He has looked over the candy hauls that I collected during Halloween and been in a beautiful oak tree during the crisp dry autumn. (Carefully placed on a towel, but he needed to experience a tree. He is a tiger after all.) He has been with me in Japan for a year and traveled all over the US northwest looking out of a train window. And he has done all these things with Redeye by his side.

--But let’s face the facts, in the last few years my friend was disappearing before my eyes. There was good fortune that his seams were okay but the fur was coming off. His stripes were completely gone in areas. He was looking more yellow everywhere. And I dared only to pat him. That’s when I began to search for help to restore my friend and so I found Realms of Gold on the internet.

Beth has been wonderful, corresponding with emails and working out details by sending pictures back and forth. She listened to my input and was absolutely amazing at applying the stripes in the right places. We actually discussed exactly where to put them. :D I trust Beth’s skills so much that I will be sending Stripes best friend Redeye along soon. He was amazed and so happy with Stripes look, that he can’t wait to go to Realms of Gold!

Okay Beth, this may be a little serious but I wanted to express my honest feelings, and let you know why this has been so important to me.

With my 2 stuffed animals loosing hair and looking tired a sobering thought occurred to me. If something happened to me, what would happen to them? We have no children to give them to. We can’t donate them because being so worn out, no one would take them. And the thought that they might end up in a garbage bin was too much. Of course for me, my goal was to pet, play and enjoy them again. That goes without saying. But now, seeing Stripes beautiful bright colors, I am happy and secure in knowing that years from now, I can donate or will him to a children’s home where he will continue to be loved. (I have several friends who grew up in orphanages and we think it’s a wonderful idea.)

Thank you so much Beth!!!!!!

I don’t know about all of you, but that made me smile all day. :-)

#stuffed animal repair #stuffed animal hospital #stuffed animal cleaning #stuffed animals #tigers #tiger #stuffed animal tiger #toy tiger

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ragingpancake · 3 years

Text

How To Woo Your Scientist In 100 Cookies or Less

Rodney has a secret admirer. Prompt fic. See end of fic for prompt. ~1800 words.

The first time it appears is the morning after the ridiculous mission to M5-X847 (more accurately described as ‘Planet of the Bat-Shit Crazy Natives and Their Ridiculous Trading Ceremonies’ in the privacy of Rodney’s own mind and in the not-so-nearly private mess hall whenever anyone else brings it up). It’s left sitting on his desk by his absolute favorite computer on a folded up napkin from the mess hall, taunting him.

He’s still staring at it as if it holds the secrets to recharging a ZPM, the cure for male pattern baldness and the name of the man Carly Simon wrote a song about when John ambles in for his obligatory weekly hour of light switch duty.

“Ooh, cookie,” he says. Rodney smacks his hand away with a squawk of indignation.

“Mine!”

“Well, are you gonna eat it or just stare at it?”

Rodney settles for the latter while John unfairly makes Atlantis and all of her Ancient Tech roll over for him like the complete slut she is. Besides, he argues silently, it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to kill him with baked goods. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

Fifty nine minutes and fifty eight seconds later, John plucks the cookie off of the napkin and pops it into his mouth, crunching loudly and spewing crumbs everywhere.

“What did you do that for?” Rodney bellows.

“Just makin’ sure it was safe and citrus free,” John says with a toothy grin. “Next time, you’ll know. Cya later buddy,” he says and ambles back out of the room without a care in the world.

“Next time? How do you know there will be a next time?” Rodney yells after him. “How do you know?”

—-

There is, oddly enough, a ‘next time’. The next morning when Rodney stumbles into his lab, bleary eyed after a late night watching terrible movies and eating horrifyingly greasy food (thank you, Daedalus) with John, there’s another cookie sitting innocently on his desk, silently begging to be eaten. He’s still worried about the possibility of an assassination attempt but he rationalizes that no one is really going to use precious chocolate chips just to murder him so he lifts it up, sniffs it and then shoves it greedily into his mouth.

Less than hour later, he’s still alive and wishing he had another.

—-

By the fifth cookie, Rodney stops checking for the possibility of citrus-laced baked goods. Clearly, someone finally appreciates his genius and has decided the best way to thank him is to ply him with delicious sweet treats.

For once, Rodney doesn’t complain.

——

“Another one?” John asks, eying the 30th cookie longingly. “How many is that now?”

“I don’t know. I’ve lost count,” Rodney lies.

John just snorts in response.

——

“This is getting out of hand,” Kavanagh gripes. “How come we’re not allowed to eat around the computers, but he never says anything about that damn cookie appearing every morning? Why doesn’t Sh—”

Radek steps on Kavanagh’s foot and Miko’s elbow catches him in the side. Kavanagh squeaks and then miraculously falls silent.

Rodney eyes his scientists suspiciously “Why doesn’t who do what?”

“Nothing,” Radek says. “Is nothing but idiotic mumblings of a jealous man.”

“Jealous. Yeah, right,” Kavanagh snorts under his breath.

Rodney is still not convinced and he spends the rest of the day trying to bully Kavanagh into telling him exactly what’s going on.

Kavanagh is gleeful at the idea of knowing something that Rodney doesn’t.

—

“Hey Rodney?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t you ever wonder who’s sending you cookies?”

Rodney eats the last bite of his cookie and glances over at John. “Not really, no. Don’t really care either, as long as they keep coming.”

“Oh.”

John goes back to touching uncatalogued Ancient tech while Rodney practically has oral sex with the left-over chocolate on his fingers. Rodney’s so caught up in his little delicious world that he doesn’t even notice when the device starts glowing in an ominous way.

“Uh… Rodney.”

Three seconds later, John’s unconscious on the floor and Rodney’s yelling into his headset for a medical team.

——

The next day, there is no cookie.

——

By the third cookieless day, Rodney decides that maybe Atlantis was the secret Cookie Fairy, because whoever it was is clearly pissed off that he almost killed John.

——

“I brought you something,” Rodney announces as soon as he palms the door to John’s room open. It’s the only room, other than his own that he’s ever been able to get into without resorting to screwing around with the crystals. He’s never questioned it, but now he’s grateful that John never had the urge to lock him out.

“Been stockpiling the goods from your Cookie Fairy?” John asks grumpily. Rodney cuts him slack because he knows he still has a killer headache from that damn piece of Ancient Tech.

“No,” Rodney says. “I uh, actually made these for you, and by ‘made these for you’, I really mean I bribed the kitchen staff with an extra ten minutes of hot water in the mornings but um, yeah. I got them. For you.”

John gives him an odd look and Rodney wonders if maybe there’s brain damage that Keller missed on the scans. Wouldn’t be the first time, he thinks bitterly.

“It’s just… you seemed to always be hanging around when I had my cookie and I uh… know that I wasn’t exactly willing to share with you even though I know chocolate chip is your favorite. But that’s not the point. The point… the point is… I screwed up that day. I should have been paying more attention to what you were doing and I wasn’t and I’m sorry and, and, and will you just say something and stop looking at me like that?”

John gives him a slight smile. “Thanks Rodney. You wanna watch a movie?”

For the first time since the cookies stopped coming, Rodney feels like he can breathe again.

——

The next morning, there’s still no cookie, though Rodney really didn’t expect there to be. He doesn’t even really care, because while he acquired the cookies for John the previous evening, he’s the one who ate almost the whole damn plate and if he never sees another chocolate chip cookie again, it’ll be too damn soon.

He has a lot of catching up to do because ever since John got hurt on his watch, he hasn’t exactly been able to concentrate on his work and damn if it hasn’t piled up already.

He powers up his computer and scowls at the stack of papers littering his workspace. Grabbing a handful, he flips through them and then discards them like the complete and utter trash they are. Kavanagh never could finish up the simplest of equations.

He’s just about to log in to the network with the corner of a piece of paper sticking from under his keyboard catches his eye. He frowns and pulls it out. The handwriting is vaguely familiar.

Meet me at the East Pier. 1800 hours. -Cookie Fairy

Rodney doesn’t know whether to be flattered or frightened. He just hopes that whoever the Cookie Fairy is, they’ve forgiven him as easily as John has.

——

The doors to the East Pier slide open with ease and Rodney can’t stop the nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach. The sun is already beginning to set in the Lantean sky, casting a gentle glow over the calm water. Leaning against the railing, there’s a familiar set of slouched shoulders and a crop of dark, messy hair.

“John?”

He turns and gives Rodney a nervous grin. “Hey buddy.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand. What are you… what are you doing here?”

He holds out the plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Uh… surprise?”

For once, the great Rodney McKay is completely speechless.

John clears his throat and shifts nervously from one foot to the next. He sets the plate of cookies down on the railing and rubs at the back of his reddening neck. “So I guess you… Uh, I guess this really isn’t what you were expecting.”

“No,” Rodney says dumbly, because he really wasn’t. Miko? Sure. Simpson? Maybe. But John Sheppard? John fucking Sheppard? Not in a million years. “Why?”

”M5-X847."

“The marriage ceremony? The one where they made you put stupid flowers in your hair and, and, and…”

“That’s the one.”

“But why?” Rodney asks, because he needs to know.

“Because I wanted it to be real,” John blurts out. His ears are absolutely flaming at this point and Rodney’s sure they’re going to spontaneously combust if they get any brighter. “I needed… I needed you to know and I didn’t know how to tell you so I…”

“You baked. For me.”

“Every day.”

“Until you got hurt.”

“Well, yeah. It was kind of difficult when standing long enough to get to the bathroom was a chore. I was… I wanted to tell you that day, but you didn’t… you said you didn’t want to know.”

“I was afraid it was Kavanagh or some other equally terrible person!”

“Why would Kavanagh bake you cookies?”

“I don’t know! If could have been part of some nefarious plan to clog my arteries and send me to an early grave via horrendous heart blockage!”

John just stares at him. “Seriously?”

“Hey, it could happen.”

“Rodney, shut up,” John says and then he’s suddenly there, his lips pressed to Rodney’s.

It’s wonderful and terrifying and so right.

Rodney makes a little noise of surprise against John before he relaxes into his the kiss, reaching up tentatively to card his fingers through his silly hair.

When they break apart, they’re both panting.

“Was that… was that okay?”

“I don’t know,” Rodney says. “I think… purely for research purposes, you understand, I’m going to need you to kiss me again.”

“No problem,” John says and he leans in to kiss Rodney again.

——

By the time they’ve finished kissing, they’re both shivering in the chilly night air. John’s hair is messier than usual and Rodney’s lips are red and swollen.

“Seriously though,” Rodney says, burrowing closer to John’s side as John drops an arm around his shoulders. “Cookies? Really?”

“I figured that at least when it came to you, the old saying was true. The way to your heart is definitely through your stomach.”

“So you thought you could woo me with cookies?”

“It worked though,” John says triumphantly.

Rodney grins. It worked.

“Hey, next time, you think you could do peanut butter?”

“Shut up, Rodney,” John says fondly

“Why don’t you make me?”

“My pleasure.”

Prompt

:One day you come into work and find a cookie mysteriously placed on your desk. Grateful to whoever left this anonymous cookie, you eat it. The next morning you come in and find another cookie. This continues for months until one day a different object is left--and this time there's a note.

#mcshep #john sheppard #rodney mckay #sga #fandom: sga #stargate atlantis #ficlet #prompt fic #reposted from my old LJ as this is the only fic I've written in the past that didn't give me major second hand embarrassment.

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partnersatfazbear · 3 years

Text

Fazbear Frights: What We Found Analysis

Here’s my analysis for What We Found, the third story in Gumdrop Angel. I wrote this as I read so it may be a little different than my previous analysis where I read the story first and went back.

If you’re a Michael Afton fan I highly recommend this. Also, there’s possibly some insight into William Afton, Mrs. Afton, and Henry too, so it’s worth a skim.

Pg 144 '...a place thirty-some years forgotten' Just reconfirming FNAF 3 is 30 years past *one* of the FNAF closings, presumably FNAF 2 location.

Pg 145 "The whole building was giving him [Hudson] a headache." FIX THE VENTILATION BRUH

Pg 148 '...they were able to use salvaged derelict equiptment original to the old pizzerias.' Another confirmation of something we heard from Phone Guy.

Pg 147 "How old are you?" "Twenty-three, same as you." I think this gives us Michael's age during FNAF 3.

EDIT: This kept me awake last night. Obviously this is impossible because he has to be alive for at least 10 years before 1983, BUT maybe its just reconfirming FNAF 3′s year? 2023?

Pg 149 "Hudsan's dad died and his mom married Lewis, a ridiculous balding man who wore plaid vests and smoked a pipe" Did... Did this book just seriously imply Mrs. Afton left William for Henry? Really? (Yes, there's differences; the husband is dead and the man wears plaid 'vests' but it seems very odd to include that detail. This could just have been the writer's own imagination, though.) I have seen this as a fan theory and 100% explains the jealousy aspect of William, but I can't help but kinda hate it. I think this is very important, though, and probably Scott's intention. "This horrible little man [Lewis]... would make Hudson's next ten years a living Hell" This REALLY intrigues me given the context I just went over. The text implies Lewis was fairly neglectful to our main character / Michael stand-in Hudson. Maybe I'm wrong and for some reason Mrs. Emily left and went to William? XD Haha, I'm reading too much into this page. Maybe I'll come back to this later. I figure it's more of Scott possibly including double-details (contradicting stuff with the same character that really applies to two, which has been something I heavily pointed out in previous anaylsis on this blog) Having said that, I'm going w/the former because I can't imagine Henry being abusive (neglectful yes, abusive no) and he's never been portrayed that way in official works like William has in the novels.

Pg 150 "Hudson began to screw up in class...a product of spending the night in fear that his stepfather [Lewis]... [would] beat him just for the fun of it." Ooof. Big confirm on William actually being abusive. Unless we stick with the Henry theory for Lewis (combined with Midnight Motorist Henry theory / alcoholic). "...near-daily beatings..." "his mom started taking pills to get through the day..." So, whoever Mrs. Afton is, she was definetly not paying attention. But then, most people married to serial killers either don't notice because of denial (like this) or because the killer is so manipulative / careful they can't notice.

"Barry, who had red hair and freckles..." Yo?! Is that a description of Fritz?! These friends in the story could be the other kids Michael knew's stand-in's, aka the two gravestones with names he used (Fritz and Jeremy), as shown in the checks for the games and FNAF 6. I've long figured Michael was probably friends with the victims--it makes them easier, although riskier, targets [for William]. The two friends are male, too, like Fritz and Jeremy. If you're curious about Duane's description (our stand in for Jeremy), it's "tight black shirt... muscles... black hair long enough for a glossy ponytail..." I'm not sure if this matches anything found in the novels or contradicts them, though. (The novels = TSE trilogy)

"And so it went... until the night of the fire." For context, this is before FF burns down. We're learning of Hudson's life from his close friends in childhood, his father's death, his mother remarrying, to his abusive stepfather, to his grades slipping to this line. This would be a new fire not seen/mentioned in the games...

Pg 151 "...go to Charlie's for a sundae..." Really. Really Scott. Just gonna use this name again. OK. I'm not even gonna discuss this because it's probably irrelevant. *This is confirmed on pg 158 to be an ice cream shop. No lore relevance aside the annoying name coincidences Scott loves to troll with.

"This is not... an advance into enemy territory, a fight with demons, or a descent into Hell..." Uh, what? What is Hudson talking about? XD I'm only noting it because it seems so out of place. He's probably talking about video games or something.

Another note, although I don't have a specific reference since it is mentioned off-hand many times, is that Hudson keeps referring to his "history" which is implied to have kept him from getting a well-paying job and a girl he's crushing on doesn't know this "history" which is good for him. Seems good old "Michael Stand-In" has done some jail time or something. Edit: On pg 154/155 the girl asks Hudson, "Did you do it?" Seems he may have killed his stepfather or been involved with something else just as bad. Edit 2: No, I was thinking too deep into it. This probably refers to Evan's death at Fredbear's. DUH.

Pg 156 describes an actual "prize corner" in FF! What am I even reading? IIRC this is in FNAF 3, too. So they just hand out these scary gift boxes to people that complete the attraction? (Hudson says he *would* have fun handing out the scary toys to kids when this location opens--kind of a bully thing to do, eh?)

"[Hudson] avoid[ed] glancing in any of the mirrors..." I'm only pointing this out because it could be reference to one of two things. 1) We know because of one of UCN's music tracks, William has a fear of his reflection. Michael probably shares this trait, especially since 2) after Ennard and all... and later on pg 157 it also says, "he never wanted to face: himself" Sounds like guilt, my guy.

Pg 157 "blonde hair... blue eyes..." Hudson shares an eye color with Michael. It's possible Michael had blonde hair as a child and it changed to brown (it's common, something I personally went through being technically blonde/ blue eyed myself)

"He [Hudson] knew from personal experience that toys could turn from fun...to torture ina heart-beat" Fairly self explanatory. Either Hudson's worked at a creepy location before or he doesn't like remembering Fredbear's.

*checks how much is left.* There's still 35 pages (not counting back/front) left of this... This is gonna be a lot of notes.

Pg 158 Hudson doesn't have a car. Poor Mike, probably having to walk everywhere. Especially as a corpse.

Pg 160 This page describes many physical issues Hudson has that prevents him from entering the Navy, all from the abuse of Lewis. Obvious paralell to Michael becoming an undead [because his father sent him to CBPR indirectly causing his condition]

Pg 161 "How's your granny, Hud?... ...Is she still alive?" "I don't think she can die." Does anyone in the Afton family really 'die'? XD

Pg 162 These few pages discuss Hudson's grandmother. She's described as "a seer who claimed to know the future... ...wore big men's plaid flannel shirts with baggy jeans" Um, more plaid / flannel? AGH. STAHP. Lowkey, I would totally headcanon my Aunt Jen like this, though.

Pg 163 "Hudson's mom... the way she was before Hudson's dad had died... never... particularly warm and fuzzy... but... effiencient and responsible..." More about Mrs. Afton, so that's kinda neat.

"Hudson's dad was fun and attentive." There's a good Dad in this series?

"Unfortunetly, he also struggled with mental illness." "invisible low points" (Pg 164) Kinda reminds me of how Henry is described after Charlotte's death in the books.

Pg 164 "When Steven got himself into a bad deal that cost him his small business... he'd taken his life." Oh, it is Henry! SMH. Way to use confusing paralells. So, from our understanding thus far, Hudson's real father, Steven, is our Henry stand-in. His step-father despite being described similar to Henry, is actually our William stand-in. Fair game, Scott.

Pg 164 "...he [Hudson] was locked into a supply closet..." Oh shit, you guys. So, let me go on a tangent here, because this IS important! I just watched a retrospective on Sister Location and FNAF 6 earlier and one theory for Midnight Motorist was the person in the chair was the mother and the kid was Michael. I think this little line may confirm that. In fact, the story may be the key to figuring things out. Obviously, the line is a paralell to FNAF 4's scene in which Crying Child was locked in the supply closet of Fredbear's. I know some people, including Matpat, believe[d] CC was Michael, and in this book's context, it sort of works. This does contradict Step Closer and 1000 other things that make Michael the older brother, but maybe it's hinting at MM? Abusive stepdad (possibly Henry... maybe William is gone at this point), checked out Mom (hey, grey couch lady with Foxybro's font). IDK, but its definetly something to think about.

Pg 165 Lewis is mentioned as calling Hudson "nothing" and saying "you're nothing" on several occasions on this page. Just more abuse, for those accurate fanfic writers like me. Also I kinda wanna watch Morel Orel again. Yall know my fav character is Clay. Yall know.

"You're smoke." <-- Lewis / The text later reads, "...there was some irony, given what eventually happened." BRUH. Why did your stepdad die in a fire? :V TELL ME.

"When his family's house burned down at the end of his senior year..." Huh. Is there a fire we don't know about in the game-verse? Could this explain what happened to the FNAF 4 house before MM house?!

"...it purged Hudson of Lewis and his mother." MRS. AFTON BURNED ALIVE, TOO? Bruh. I can't with this story.

The text later describes the fire is concluded to be man-made and Hudson was blamed for it. Can't say if this ties to Michael, but it IS interesting... TBF, there is a small paralell to draw between Henry in FNAF 6 and his history of suicide in the books, too.

Pg 166 "...this place's [FF] busted thermostat.." I just find this line funny.

Pg 167 "...after three weeks of keeping an eye on the place" Some more timeline context for FNAF 3. We know that Michael worked there a little while before we start playing the game thanks to one of the phone calls, IIRC, so this makes sense. If Michael was accused of [something] and also wanting to hunt down his father, then it makes perfect sense why he's working a dead end job at Freddy's over and over and over. Fun fun fun.

Pg 169 "He hated to think about a functional character [Foxy]" This line is in regards to Hudson not liking the set up of Pirate's Cove and Foxy's hook to scare people. Sounds familiar, don't it? (For Michael anyway.)

Pg 173 "Some big find is arriving tomorrow." SPRINGY BOI! COME ON BOOK, get on with the show?

Pg 176 "Granny was wearing a red-and-green plaid shirt and her baggy jeans." Nothing special, but it was specifically brought up twice. I'm kind of racking my brain trying to understand what the point of this character is outside of "woooo everything is haunted don't you know that" kind of character.

Pg 180 "...dropped the crate on the linoleum with a resounding thud." HEY. Poor Springtrap, just gettin' tossed around like the trash he is.

Pg 186 "If you weren't so stupid, I'd tell you more about it." Springtrap bringing the burn. =:)

"A voice with a burr-like rasp...hint of a Southern accent" I'm going to assume this is because it's Lewis probably in the suit in this story and not our old British lad.

"It's was Mr. Atkin's voice." THE MATH TEACHER? *goes back to check* 'The algebra teacher'. Okay...

Pg 190 Okay, so Hudson hear's Lewis' voice this time. Okay, I get it now. Springtrap in this kind of imbodies all of Hudson's old bullies, including the teacher. He also has PTSD, just FYI. IDK if anyone finds that important, but it's fairly obvious by the line "He wasn't in his bedroom. Lewis didn't just slam his head into a desk; his head had been slammed into the [arcade] game."

"Why did he hallucinate a scene from his childhood?" Oh, it's not PTSD, then. It's just the VENTILATION ERROR. lol Okay.

Just a note, as I'm reading through the more action-based stuff, I kind of feel bad for Michael if he had flashbacks like this guy. They're intense.

So, Lewis' voice finally comes out of Springtrap on Pg 213. There's that.

Pg 220 "You can just stay there [in his room]" Kind of a paralell to Midnight Motorist. Lewis is saying it to Hudson. I really feel like the kid in the MM game is Michael because of this story...

Pg 223 "Heat purges. Fire heals." I'm sure that's Henry's life motto.

The ending was stupid, but most in these stories are. Hudson is hallucinating and is implied to have burned himself alive in FF's oven. Meh? The first half of this one is A TRIP and a little insight into what I 100% believe is Michael's childhood. I think the saddest part of it all is that we never got Springtrap speaking to Michael in FNAF 3--and if it's ever remade I hope we get more of them interacting.

#fazbear frights #fnaf spoilers #spoilers #what we found #michael afton #springtrap #fnaf theories #fnaf theory #fnaf 3 #midnight motorist #mrs. afton #henry emily

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thetranquilteal · 3 years

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The Vintage Calendar [AO3] by @thetranquilteal

With the ending of her contract with the UK Armed Forces, all Claire Beauchamp wants for Christmas is to enjoy a quiet holiday in Scotland with her long-term boyfriend Frank Randall. While visiting with close friends, however, Claire is gifted with a vintage advent calendar that sets her life on a path she never expected... one that leads to Northern Badgers star, James Fraser.

Modern Day AU loosely based on the Netflix Christmas movie ‘The Holiday Calendar’. New chapter posted every day!

Day 1: Candy Cane

Claire wrapped her dressing gown around her a little tighter as she shuffled across the living space to the kitchenette, early morning light guiding the way. She placed the kettle on the stove and set about preparing tea, her cold hands fumbling with the canister.

“Still cold, love?” Frank came up behind her and rubbed his hands up and down her arms gently, trying to generate some heat.

“Yes,” she admitted with a light laugh as she wrapped her dressing gown around her a little tighter still. Mrs Baird’s Bed and Breakfast was quaint and in an ideal location, in the very centre of Inverness, but it was not as warm and cosy as she would have liked. “I just can’t seem to shake it.”

“Here,” he took the spoon out of her hand and guided her out of the way, “let me finish the tea. You go and sit by the fire.”

“Thank you,” she kissed him on the cheek and made her way around the couch towards the purple armchair that had caught her eye the moment they entered their accommodation. She paused, though, when the vintage calendar caught her eye.

“Frank?” Claire called.

“Hmm?”

“Did you open this?”

“Open what, darling?”

“The calendar that Mrs. Graham gave us.”

“No, I haven’t had the chance to have a closer look yet. Is there there something for today, then?”

“Yes,” Claire’s brow furrowed as she reached out and picked up the little figurine sitting in the already open doorway. “It’s a little candy cane.”

The sun had long since set by the time Claire wandered the streets of downtown Inverness looking for somewhere to stop for a warm drink. Sparkling lights and Christmas decorations adorned each side and muffled festive tunes could be heard from many of the doorways she passed. She couldn’t bring herself to walk through any of them however, the lights seemingly too bright and vibe feeling too thick, and instead kept walking, taking turns here and there looking for somewhere a little more quiet to spend her evening without Frank.

It had been a productive day, first studying various heavy tomes with the Reverend at the Manse and then a few hours spent at the local library looking over what Claire considered to be mounds of papers brought to them by the librarian, a large eyed woman with thick glasses, all too happy to deliver more than they could possibly read to their table along with what seemed to be a never ending cup of candy canes. It was there Frank had discovered a new lead, a handwritten note suggesting some rituals performed during yuletide centuries ago had a deeper and more intricate history than previously believed. Seeing the light spark in his eyes, Claire had encouraged him to continue his research and told him not to worry about their plan to spend the evening together - they had a whole month in town and one evening spent apart wouldn’t ruin anything after all.

The streets got darker and Claire subsequently got calmer, slowing her walk to a much more casual stroll, a warm looking restaurant now set in her sights. Suddenly a door opened to her left and a group of people flowed out, merriment evident in their faces if not their voices, each carrying boxes of what looked to be homemade Christmas decorations. She instinctively moved to the side to get out of the way, just barely dodging a stray oversized candy cane to the head and waited patiently in the entrance of an alleyway for them to pass.

“Druid!”

Claire jumped and turned to find an older man standing in an unassuming doorway staring at her. He was dressed in a shirt and kilt that had certainly seen better days and she looked around quickly to make sure that he was, in fact, looking at her before responding. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Druid!" The man repeated, waving for her to come in. "Ach, come on lass! I cannae stand here waiting for ye all night. Come in before ye attract attention!”

“I don’t-”

Obviously frustrated by her hesitation, the man grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man so seemingly agitated.

She stumbled slightly but regained her balance in time to watch the man leave her just as quickly as he had found her to join a group of men huddled on one side of the establishment. She pushed her indignation aside for a moment to look around and - found a very ordinary tavern. It made sense that she hadn’t noticed this place herself, she thought. It was free from glitz, glamour and - perhaps most significantly - any holiday glitter. Overall, it was rather dark and grungy with lanterns and fireplaces providing a warmth she hadn’t experienced all day.

Determined to remain calm after such an undignified entrance, she squared her shoulders and walked up to the bar, raising a hand to attract the attention of the barkeep.

“Local cider, please.”

The man nodded and Claire settled herself on a stool and, feeling less conspicuous, took her time studying her surroundings more closely. Individuals and small groups were scattered here and there, their collective chatter on par with the music playing through speakers overhead.

She accepted her drink and handed over the required amount of cash. She took a sip and smiled at the taste. 'Life was too short to not enjoy the drink in your hand' as her old Commanding Officer used to say. Half way through her drink the group of men huddled by one of the open fireplaces caught her attention again when a pained grunt travelled across the room.

Just ignore it, Beauchamp. Enjoy your drink, Beauchamp, she thought to herself and for a moment she managed to do just that. Until she couldn’t stand it any longer. "Dammit, Beauchamp."

Claire got up, drink still in hand, and made her way over, their discussion becoming clearer with every step.

“Well, what if I-”

“-I dinnae need yer help!”

“Ye cannae-”

“-one phone call-”

“For the love of-”

There, amongst five or so men, each talking over the top of one another, was a young red haired man sitting on a chair cradling his arm. So busy arguing amongst themselves, they barely noticed her presence.

“It’s fine-”

“-force the joint back, myself.”

“Don’t you dare!” Without thinking, Claire pushed through to stand in front of the injured man. “Stand aside at once!”

“What??”

“Stand aside, she says!”

“Here,” she turned to the loud and overly short bearded man closest to her and handed him her glass. “Hold this.”

“Hold this, she says!”

Claire tuned out the discussion around them and focused on the task at hand.

“Now, what’s happened?”

“Ugh,” the patient grunted as he shifted in his seat, “landed on the ice wrong. Cannae lift my arm without it hurtin’.”

“How long ago?”

“An hour mayhap.”

Claire nodded in understanding and reached out a hand. “May I?”

The man looked at her for a long moment before taking a swig from a glass on the table and visibility gritting his teeth in anticipation. He nodded his consent.

“Do you have a history of instability in this shoulder?” She asked as she palpated the area gently.

“I’ve dislocated it once before,” he admitted with a grimace.

“Or twice,” a gruff and somewhat familiar voice added in, the man responsible for... introducing her to this pub, she suspected.

“Or twice,” her patient reluctantly admitted. “But no’ in a long while.”

“Hmmm… you really ought to see a doctor. Are there any clinics open this time of night?” When he didn’t answer she turned to look at the other men who in turn were equally nonvocal and completely unhelpful. “No? Well, it looks to me like you’ve suffered from shoulder subluxation - a partial dislocation, that is - and it’s fixed itself already. So long as you keep your arm immobile and make sure to rest, I don’t see why you can’t wait to see your doctor tomorrow.” Decision made, Claire stood up and turned to the others. “Fetch me a long piece of cloth or a belt. And some ice from the bar.”

"Fetch me, she says!”

“Ach, shut up ye drunk eejit and do as the lady says,” a tall, bald headed man with a thick grey beard Claire hadn’t noticed before came forward, his authority evident in how quickly the so-called ‘drunk eejit’ complied.

Requests quickly in hand, she turned back to her waiting patient and went about efficiently setting his arm in a sling, the young man following her movements closely.

“Taking a guess you’ve done this before?”

“I’m a nurse,” Claire shared as she pulled the knot tight.

“Aye, you work at the hospital? I havenae seen ye there before.”

“No, not that kind of nurse,” Claire chuckled at Jamie’s confused look and handed him the ice pack before clarifying. “An Army Nurse. But now I have to say I'm curious. Do you frequent the hospital often, Mr…?”

“Fraser," he paused as if waiting for something. A particular reaction from her perhaps? "But you can call me Jamie.”

“Claire,” she reciprocated with a smile. “Under normal circumstances I would offer to shake your hand but considering your current predicament I must advise against it and instead remind you to keep the ice on your shoulder for no longer than 15 to 20 minutes at a time. Do you have a physical therapist?”

“Aye, he does,” the bald headed man came forward once again, a hand on Jamie’s good shoulder. “And I’ll make sure he sees them on the morrow.”

“Wonderful,” Claire nodded with pleasure and turned back to Jamie, hands planted firmly on her hips. “Now, I believe you owe me a drink.”

A/N: Candy canes. Candy canes everywhere! From here we diverge from canon-adjacent and take a path that is much more Hallmark. // Are you looking forward to seeing what figurine will be waiting for Claire tomorrow?

#the vintage calendar #outlander #fan fiction #christmas #modern day au #day 1 #jamie x claire #rated: hallmark

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d3-iseefire · 3 years

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Nevermore Chapter Seven

Arkenstone boasted a monster sized parking garage set behind the main complex, and that fact alone nearly had Bilba turning around and going home right then and there. She hated parking garages, and an isolated parking garage late at night was nothing short of a nightmare.

It was only when she recalled the image of an injured werewolf prince facing off against a creep to protect her that she gritted her teeth, steeled herself, and drove in.

Drove in down a steep ramp, which meant the first level was underground.

Of course it was.

She spotted an entrance to the mall, marked with white lettering and signs, and parked as close to it as she could get. This late at night, there was only a smattering of cars and her footsteps seemed to echo like rifle shots as she hurried toward the metal door.

The ground floor where she entered, was the mall itself, wide corridors lined with shops of all kinds on both sides. Quite a few were shuttered but with Arkenstone being a 24 hour venue just as many were still open. Down the center of the tiled corridor were still more booths, boasting everything from jewelry to candy to exotic foods and more.

As she passed a storefront featuring cinnamon rolls, Bilba was surprised to hear her stomach rumble. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at something fun like that and actually felt hungry. She ate because she had to, not usually because she wanted to.

She spotted a large map of the mall on a nearby wall and headed toward it to make sure she knew where she was going. The lounge/restaurant/thingy for which the entire complex was named was on the top floor. According to the map, she needed a bank of elevators on the exact opposite side of the mall from where she’d entered.

Figured.

She walked quickly toward that end, eyes fixed on the floor in front of her and arms wrapped tightly around her torso. There weren’t very many people out this late, not on this floor anyway, but it still made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like being in public. It was too easy for Lotho, or one of his lackeys, to hide in a crowd and watch her without her knowing. She could walk back out to her car and find them waiting, or get dragged into a dark corner the second she let her guard down.

The elevators came into view and she rushed to push the button to summon the car. When it opened the entire inside appeared to be polished quartz panels with gold trim and a marble floor. Bilba stepped in hesitantly, and the doors slid shut soundlessly behind her.

She hit the button that had an ornate A under it, and pressed back into a corner of the car. She felt the drop in her stomach signaling the car had started to move and tried to force herself to relax.

She didn’t do well in enclosed spaces anymore. Things like elevators, public restrooms, anywhere with only one way in or out. Places where she lost the ability to control when, how, or if, she exited.

The button she’d pushed went dark and, with a quiet ding, the door slid smoothly open onto the most opulent, and extravagant lounge Bilba had ever seen. The far side featured massive panes of window glass stretching from the floor to the ceiling. She’d never noticed windows from the front of the building, which meant they must boast a spectacular view of the hills and far off mountains that lay behind the complex.

During the day at least. Currently, they were simply black rectangles, and served to remind her of the risk she was taking being out this late. Her eyes caught on doors at the bottom of several panes and, for a brief second, she let herself imagine sitting at a table out there, sipping on a drink and reading a book. Nothing but a beautiful landscape, and the rustle of leaves on nearby trees.

It must be peaceful.

She pulled her mind from that particular fantasy, and focused on the rest of the room. It was massive, and just...overwhelming to be perfectly honest. Chandeliers and marble and quartz sparkled from seemingly every corner. The place seemed to be a hybrid more than a true lounge, complete with a small dance floor and what looked like a full service kitchen. There were areas with couches and televisions, other spaces with expensive, leather covered booths, and still more sections that looked designed to just let people sit and talk.

A massive, winding staircase led up to a balcony style second level while, on the main level, she could see several raised portions that appeared to be private seating. There was quiet music playing over the entire room, almost drowning out the quiet clink of silverware, soft noise from a few television sets and the low drone of chattering voices.

Wringing the hem of her shirt in her hands, Bilba stepped hesitantly out of the elevator. It was fine. She’d just...go in and...do..something. She didn’t expect to see the prince himself but maybe she could...talk to someone or...or maybe…

Her thoughts trailed off as her eyes, moving over the room, landed on a small, sectioned off part of the floor elevated about ten or so feet above the main floor. It was in the back, and shadowed, consisting of a single table with a group of people seated at it.

The one that drew her attention was a young woman with a veritable mane of flaming, scarlet hair but, next to her, was a young, dark haired man, sitting in profile so all she could see was the side of his face

Bilba fumbled out her phone and quickly recalled the search she’d done that had given her the prince’s name. The picture popped up and she studied it before looking up again to try and compare it to the young man at the table.

When she did, she nearly dropped her phone because the young man in question was definitely the prince, and he was currently staring directly at her.

The entire table was, in fact, and not just them. She could still hear the music, and the televisions, but the chatter had died down entirely. Everywhere she looked she saw eyes, all staring directly at her.

This had been a mistake. Such a massive mistake. Bilba shuffled backward, her hands dragging on her shirt hem. What had she been thinking? She didn’t belong here. She had to leave. Just leave.

She whirled around, and bit back a shriek as she nearly ran into a massive man suddenly standing directly behind her. He was like one of those guys she saw sometimes in weight lifting competitions. He was bald on the top of his head, but instead of trying to hide it he’d chosen to simply tattoo his scalp.

“Can I help you?” his voice was gravely, almost a growl that sent a chill up her spine. He crossed his arms over his chest, causing his muscles to bulge in a way that probably led to a lot of burst seams in his suit jackets and dress shirts.

Bilba shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I thought this area was public access.”

“It is,” he said flatly. “Can I help you?”

Bilba hesitated. She forced herself to let go of her shirt before she put a hole in it, and turned to glance back toward the table on that small, raised level.

It was empty.

Empty, and everyone else in the room was still staring at her.

“Um--” Bilba turned back toward the enormous man, half turned again to the now empty table and came to the unescapable realization that she’d made a horrific mistake. Again. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I made a mistake. I need to go.”

She edged slowly around the man, toward the elevator. He turned, following her movements but, to her surprise, didn’t attempt to stop her.

Bilba got on the elevator and fumbled for the buttons, finally finding the one for the bottom floor and rapidly pushed it. The door slid closed, and she collapsed against the wall. She felt like she’d run a marathon and slowly allowed herself to slide down the wall into a crouch.

What had she been thinking? He was a prince. Of course she couldn’t just march over and talk to him. The fact he’d even been there to begin with had been a massive shock.

She shoved a hand through her hair, and flinched as it caught on a few knots and pulled painfully. .

“Now what?” she whispered. She still had a mostly unconscious werewolf prince in her bed, and was no closer to finding him help. Maybe the pain medication would somehow get him to wake up enough to give her a phone number?

She let out a groan, wrapped her arms around her legs and dropped her head on her knees. This was exhausting...she was exhausted. She had work in the morning and then she’d need to ready the house for when, not if, Lotho showed up and then a million other things that she did to keep herself from having to stop and think too much.

She didn’t have time for any of this.

Guilt hit her. Fili had been there for her when she’d needed him, and here she was begrudging the fact that he needed her to return the favor?

She really was just a terrible person, wasn’t she?

The elevator slowed to a stop on the ground floor and she pushed to her feet as the door dinged and slid open, to an almost entirely empty level.

Bilba hesitated. There had been people earlier, hadn’t there? Not many, but some.

She stepped out slowly, almost peeking out before taking the risk of fully committing to leaving the elevator car. Maybe it was just this area that was empty and, as soon as she got off, she’d see --

Emptiness.

The whole floor, in both directions, and there was no distant sound to suggest anyone was out of eyesight either. Bilba suppressed a chill. Just relax. She was making a mountain out of a molehill. It was late, and there hadn’t been a lot of people to begin with. A movie had probably just started, or perhaps something in the underground entertainment complex had just opened. This was probably perfectly normal, she just didn’t know because she’d never come before.

She began walking, probably faster than absolutely necessary...except for the fact that it certainly felt absolutely necessary.

She passed by an open storefront and glanced inside, only for it to appear as empty as the rest of the floor. It was a clothing store, she chided herself, and it was late. There was probably only one person working and they were just in the back. Same with the next store...and the next...and the one after that.

By the fourth seemingly empty store, Bilba’s walk was just under a jog. She kept her eyes fixed on her feet, and tried her best to listen for any sort of sound over the quiet music blaring over the loudspeakers.

It couldn’t be Lotho. He didn’t have the kind of...whatever it was that would be needed to empty out the floor, especially of employees who were paid to be there.

She wanted to go back to the house. She never should have come here. It had been a mistake, one in a long list of mistakes she seemed to forever be making throughout the course of her life.

The door to the parking garage beckoned and she hurried toward it, feeling only a light modicum of relief as she pushed out into the darkened complex.

It was eerily quiet. No sounds of other cars, or people coming or going, not even the noise of traffic outside. She headed toward her car, mind instinctively going to every horror movie she’d ever seen that involved a woman walking alone at night.

She was both surprised and relieved to make it to her car, and even more so when she looked in and saw the backseat was empty. For a brief moment in time, it felt like the universe was giving her a break. A second of fortune in a flood of misfortune. She felt almost normal, for a second.

And then she slid her key into the ignition, turned it...and the engine refused to turn over.

Bilba’s heart jolted and she tensed. She turned the key again, and mentally prayed as the engine tried, and failed, to turn over.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me,” she breathed. She turned the key again, and again after that, only to hear the same sounds of a motor struggling, and failing, to catch. She released the key, and sank back in the seat, silence draping over her like a shroud.

Bilba closed her eyes, and let out a breath. Okay, she told herself. It was going to be fine. Just let it be for a minute, then turn the key again and --

Someone knocked on the window next to her.

Bilba shrieked and jumped so hard she hit her head against the roof of her car.

Outside the car, the man who’d startled her gave her a guilty look. He was probably a decade or two older than her, tall and fit with shoulder length, ash-blonde hair and a close shaven beard. He gave her a friendly grin, which did nothing at all to ease Bilba’s anxiety. She forced a smile and gave what she hoped passed for a friendly wave, hoping he’d get the message and leave.

Instead, he leaned in closer, hands shoved in the pockets of the leather jacket he wore. “Car trouble?”

His voice was muffled by the glass and, with a sense of dread, Bilba turned the ignition key just enough to allow her to roll the window down part way. “A little. I’m sure it’s fine though, sometimes it just takes a minute or two to warm up.”

“Why don’t you pop the hood and I’ll take a look?”

Bilba bit back the desire to ask him if he was a mechanic and would therefore have any clue as to what he was doing.. “I’m sure it’s fine. I can just call a tow truck.”

“Not from in here you can’t.” He pointed at the thick concrete over their head. “Come on, I can at least walk you inside if you’re looking for cell service.”

And then what, Bilba thought. He could be just genuinely trying to help, or he could be one of those types that helped with the expectation of being repaid somehow. Usually, they expected a date or something along those lines, and then proceeded to get aggressive or angry when, instead, they simply received gratitude.

The man clearly had no intention of leaving, which left her with few options. She could stay in her car and risk him getting angry, or she could get out to try and find cell service and hope he’d leave her alone once they were back inside and surrounded by people.

The image of the empty floor came to mind and the sense of dread increased. This entire endeavor had been a terrible idea. If only she could rewind time until she was back in the rental house. She’d still have a sick werewolf prince to deal with, but at least she wouldn’t be stuck in her current situation.

She opened the door. The man moved back a few steps and Bilba carefully got out. She pulled her purse strap over her head to wear it crossbody and clutched it as if it were a lifeline.

The man grinned broadly. “Great, let’s go.”

He made no attempt to introduce himself, and Bilba didn’t want to create a false sense of intimacy by asking. Instead she hunched her shoulders and walked quickly back toward the mall entrance. She tried to outpace him, but his size advantage allowed him to keep up with her easily.

She reached the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled.

It didn’t budge.

“Damn,” the man’s voice came from directly behind her. “I didn’t realize how late it was. They must have closed already.”

“Closed?” Bilba turned, only to realize she was now caught between the man in front of her and the door behind her. “I thought it was a 24 hour venue.”

“It is,” the man agreed. “But the mall still locks down at a certain point. If you’re already in Arkenstone, or down in Ered Luin you’re fine but, if you leave, you can’t come back until the mall reopens and if you’re outside when the mall closes--” His words trailed off, and he shrugged.

“Oh.” Bilba gripped her purse strap with both hands again and tugged on it anxiously. Now what? “I -- um --” she turned away from him, and spotted the sloped pavement she’d driven down to enter the garage. “I’ll need to go outside, I guess, to get a signal.”

She gave him a hesitant smile, and started toward the exit. Behind her, his footsteps followed and Bilba quickened her pace in response. It was just as dark outside as it was in, but at least it’d be more open, right? More people around, hopefully. He wasn’t Lotho, so no one else should be in danger.

About a dozen feet ahead of her, a shadow shifted and Bilba bit back a gasp as a stranger stepped into view from behind a pillar. As he took several steps closer, the shadows fell away to reveal the tattooed man from the lounge. He stopped several feet away from her, crossed his arms and then just...stood there.

Movement came from her other side and a second man stepped into view and took up a matching position. This man was older with a strong build and salt and pepper hair. A thick scar ran from the center of his forehead down through his right eye, leaving it a milky, dull white.

A low, guttural growl echoed through the garage and Bilba’s blood froze in her veins.

At the top of the ramp leading out of the garage, an enormous, coal black wolf appeared. It was smaller than Fili with a slimmer build but was no less massive.

It lowered its head and let out another growl, lips curling back to reveal vicious looking, curved fangs.

Bilba bit back a whimper as a vivid image of those teeth ripping into her flashed through her mind. The wolf took a step forward, and she instinctively backed up, only to run into someone who lightly grabbed her upper arms to steady her.

She’d completely forgotten about the man who’d originally spoken to her at her car. He was looking past her at the wolf with a flat expression.

It, meanwhile, was still approaching. Bilba tried to move, unsure of where she was going to go but just wanting to go somewhere else, only to have the man behind her tighten his grip to hold her in place.

The wolf moved into a darker section of the garage where the lights set in the ceiling didn’t reach. The shadows themselves seemed to shift and, when they released him, it was a man who strode out instead of a wolf.

And not just any man bit the dark haired prince whose picture had come up when she’d searched the name Kili online. In those images the man had been smiling and carefree. He was anything but now. His body was wound as tight as a bow string, and the look in his eyes was hard enough to strike her dead on the spot if they held the power.

He strode right up to her, towering over her and, when he spoke, it was as if he’d carried the wolf over into his voice. “You have ten seconds to tell me where the hell my brother is, and why you’re soaked in his blood. Start talking.”

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298015/chapters/66695635

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myhauntedsalem · 4 years

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30 Doctors, Nurses and Paramedics Describe their Most Disturbing Medical Stories

1. The Guessing Game

“I work as an ICU nurse. A mid-20s female came in with some serious cardiac abnormalities and then went into respiratory distress. Never had any medical history at all. We had to put her on the ventilator, but she was on just enough sedation to keep her lucid. She could nod/shake her head yes and no appropriately to questions.

One night, the patient in the room next to hers died, but the body was still in the room about to be taken to the morgue. The female patient’s door was closed with curtains drawn, so she couldn’t have seen what was going on next door. When I went in to check on her, she had a look of sheer panic on her face, trembling. I asked her a series of questions to see if she was cold/hot/in pain/etc. and she denied all. I asked her if she saw something—she started to aggressively nod her head YES. She wasn’t on any drugs that would make her hallucinate. I went on to get details on what this thing looked like. After playing 20 questions I got this: a man, pale white, left arm missing, heavy, bald, standing still, behind me. This was the man who had just died next door.

I spent the rest of the night consoling her.” – whites42

2. Life After Death

“When I was on an ER rotation during med school we got a call about a 23-year-old woman who was shot in the head, and who was already completely gone, but was reportedly five months pregnant so they were doing CPR until they got her to the hospital to see if the baby was viable. They got her to the ER and did an ultrasound and turned out the baby was full-term so they did a C-section in like under a minute and got the baby out.

I don’t think it’s so incredibly uncommon but it was pretty surreal to see a baby delivered from a dead person with their brain exposed and she was pretty close to the same age I was at the time.” – bluegraypurple

3. The Last Goodbye

“When I was a student, I got called in on a stroke patient. She had coded and they were doing CPR. They worked for 45 minutes, but she died. They cleaned her up, and called on the family to say goodbye, but by that time the family left. She had been both brain dead and without a pulse for more than 45 minutes. Blood had filled her brain, and she was completely grey and started to smell. Suddenly, she sat up, and called for her family. The nurses rushed to get monitors and equipment back on her. They started working on her again, she stabilized, said goodbye to her family, and promptly died a second time.” – simplesimon6262

4. Miracle Man

“When I was in trauma surgery in upstate by, got a notification about a man who was shot 3 times in the head. He comes in, literally one eye hanging out of the socket, blood everywhere, and he’s slumped forward. Apparently, he was shot in the temple, exited out his right eye socket, in the nose exited from the roof of the mouth, and In the cheek one with exit from the side of the head.

At this point, I’m thinking they just brought him in so we can pronounce him in the ER because he looked dead. I go to examine him and tilt his head back, and he says ‘Yoooo be gentle!’ I jump back and scream like a little boy, as did everyone in the room. Literally, the bullets missed his brain in every single shot.” – Noimnotonacid

5. Bleeding

“One of the aides I work with said she was doing postmortem care on a patient who had been on many, many anticoagulants before death. She said when they turned her on her side she started bleeding out of every orifice—eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. She said her and the nurse went home and had nightmares for a week.” – sparklingbluelight

6. The Haunted Hospital

“My town has two really old hospitals. One no longer functions overnight, and the stories are unsettling. No one cleans the old ER alone because all the lights and call bells go off. On other floors, there’s a kid with his ball, a lady in a white dress, etc. A coworker was cleaning an entire floor utterly solo (the norm) and bounced between rooms because the cleaning solution stays wet for a few minutes. Upon returning to a freshly wiped bed, hand prints were clearly visible.” – Sapphire_Starr

7. Eyeless

“I used to do home care for an elderly lady with learning disabilities and no eyes (they were removed due to a congenital condition). She was lovely but prone to wandering around her flat at night in total silence, which led to several horrifying situations where I left my room at 2 am only to encounter her standing silently in the hallway, turning her eyeless face towards me.” – NovelistResearcher

8. Lonely

“One call that will always haunt me was on an unresponsive female at around three in the morning. We get there and do some pointless CPR along with the fire department… She had been dead for a while; no shock-able rhythm, and clear rigor mortis. The most disturbing part was that the original caller was her 11-year-old daughter, who had just spent three days with her mother’s corpse and called 9-1-1 because she was ‘lonely’. It also didn’t help that the victim was completely naked when we arrived.” – CupofJoe776

9. Clear Waters

“I have quite a few stories, most of them are hilarious and then there are those you never want to think about. What fucked me up the most was when I saw how eyes change at the moment of death. Imagine you are looking at clear water but that clear water changes to foggy in an instant. In my 8 years here I’ve only seen this once, and I’ve personally seen well over 250 dead or dying people.” – ImCuden

10. Night Lights

“I work nights in a long-term care facility as a nurse’s assistant. I have two men under my care and both of them are unable to use their call lights. They have severe dementia and debilitating Parkinson’s disease but still, their lights are looped around their bed rail. One night their light came on and I went to answer it already confused and creeped out. I turned it off and left the room. Before I could get two doors up the light came back on. I went in there and both lights were unplugged from the wall and thrown under their beds. I fished them out, plugged them back in and left.

I’ve seen shadows standing over the dying and felt a tap on my shoulder while doing chest compression’s so I knew that lady had passed.” – beeoakly

11. Holding Hands

“I’ve had a couple of weird calls. One was a major MVA-head on many, many years ago when we played M.E. as well. We had 2 DOA (husband and spouse) that were killed instantly in a head-on collision. They had a 12-year-old daughter that was in between them and they actually took the impact, saving her life.

While en route, we noticed the husband’s arm had come loose so I went back to re-strap it. As I was doing that, the wife’s arm suddenly fell out as well, and her hand fell into her husband’s. My boss was watching in the rearview mirror and helped clear the way as I ran back into the front. It spooked both of us. Apparently, the couple (mid 30’s), had just found out he was cancer free after his last treatment.” – Anonymous

12. Last Meal

“I had an old lady come in by ambulance, near death. She was a DNR (do-not-resuscitate), so we weren’t going to do much for her. She didn’t have any family that we could find. The hospital was full, so we had to keep her in the ER for the night.

Again, she was near death. When you’ve seen enough people die, there’s no mistaking it, and she was almost there. Barely responsive; pale, cool, breaths were really irregular, heart rate was up and down, too. We just turned the lights down and kept an eye on her monitor, basically waiting for her to die.

About an hour later, she’s standing at the door of her room. She’d gotten up and put on all her clothes. We were all like, ‘WTF?’ One of the nurses went to check on her, and she said she was hungry. Not knowing really what to make of things, we got her a chair, a bedside table, and went to the cafeteria and got her a tray of food.

She sat there, ate all her food, talked with the staff a little. After about an hour, she told her nurse that she was tired and wanted to lie back down. We helped her back into bed, and within 30 minutes she was dead.” – Anonymous

13. “Don’t Let me go Back there”

“When my mom worked as an E.R. nurse a guy came in from a car accident and was losing blood. In the midst of resuscitation, the man jolts awake and screams ‘Don’t let me go back there! Please, please, please don’t let me go back!’ A few seconds later they lost him.” – JeremyHowell

14. The Rusty Old Saw

“This woman was clearly struggling mentally. She went into her basement and started sawing at her wrists horizontally with a rusty hacksaw, bleeds a good amount, and then starts walking around the house. She wasn’t dying quick enough, so she sat down in a chair in the middle of the living room, and started going at her wrists again, this time with a pair of scissors.

I was the second person inside the house. It looked like a massacre. We searched the house top to bottom, fully expecting to find multiple dead bodies in there. I’ve never seen so much blood in my life. Every single room had a trail of blood in it.

The woman was found on a chair in the living room. Rigor mortis had contorted her body into a really strange, unnatural pose, and her face was haunting. Literally the stuff of nightmares. Her wrists had huge chunks of skin/veins/muscle missing from them. Saying she slit her wrists is inaccurate. She ripped them to pieces.” – anoncop1

15. Visitors

“I work a stroke/telemetry floor on the bought shift. Most of our patients are elderly. Apparently, there are two things that patients see before they pass away. Some will say that two men are walking in their rooms and telling them to get ready to leave. The patient will call and tell us that these men are big and abrasive in their demeanor. They are either terrified or annoyed when they see the two men. The other thing they will see is a little boy who will go into their rooms and try to wake them up. The boy is usually loud and runs around their rooms. The patients will call and ask who’s letting children just run around late night. Several nights or even that same shift we’re coding or cleaning the patient for the funeral home to pick up.” – pokfynder

16. The Handsome Man in Black

“I used to work in a skilled nursing facility, usually assigned to the Alzheimer’s ward. One night I’m in the linen room stocking my cart, and I heard someone shuffle up behind me, then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and there was no one else in the room. The door was still shut too.

Another lady started to complain that a man was coming into her room at night (again, Alzheimer’s so I didn’t think much of it) so to reassure her, I told her I’d check on her throughout the night. She complained of this man for every night for two more weeks when I asked her to describe him to me.

‘He’s real handsome, and wears a black suit. Oh. He’s right behind you now, honey.’

That freaked me the f*ck out. Of course, there was no one behind me. She died the next night in her sleep.” – Anonymous

17. The Blender

“We got a call for a male in his early 30s with ‘heavy groin trauma’ (exact words of the dispatcher). We roll up lights and sirens and the guy is waiting for us on the front step with a towel over his crotch. We barely come to a stop and the guy is already running towards the rig holding this towel. I asked him what was wrong and he moved the towel and this guy’s dick was just barely hanging on. Apparently, he had ‘lady problems’ so he decided to fornicate with the food mixer he had in his kitchen and accidentally turned it on.” – YayShinny

18. The Charred Skin

“Motorcycle driver, accident, third-degree burns, arrived DOA. Had to transfer him from ambulance gurney to ER bed. As we were moving him with a transfer sheet, the liquefied/cooked subcutaneous fat caused the charred skin on his back to separate and his body slipped onto the floor (despite several of us trying to ‘catch’ him).” – Doc-in-a-box

19. Dead Man Moaning

“Worked security through college at a local hospital. The only ‘creepy’ thing I remember is when a dead man moaned. One of my duties was to help wheel patients who had expired down to the in-house morgue. Once we were wheeling an older man from the ER down and halfway down the hallway he let out this low moan. I started to panic, thinking that he was coming back to life but the RN explained to me (newbie) that sometimes the air in the lungs doesn’t come out until sometime later or is delayed for a bit.” – ill_do_it-later

20. Otherworldly Screams

“I have had fellow coworkers swear that strange things have occurred in the ER. Two people that I work with were charting at the nurse’s station when they both heard a scream followed by incoherent words come from one of our open bays. There were three patients in the room and they denied screaming or hearing anything. I have also had fellow coworkers talk about hearing strange voices especially after really bad codes and one person states she felt someone grabbing her shoulder after the doc pronounced a trauma code. These are all respectable people and I do not think they would lie.” – Anonymous

21. Blank Stare

“We got a call to go out to a scene for an elderly woman with chest pains. I arrive at the house, front door is open. We knock, hear the old woman calling out from the back ‘I’m in the back room’ in a very monotone and calm voice. My partner and I go to the back of the house looking for this woman, and that’s when we smelled it. Nothing prepares you for the smell of rotting corpse. I’ve smelled it a dozen times, and it never gets any less disturbing. We radio for police and ALS backup as we move through the house.

We opened the door to the master bedroom, and there is our patient. She is approximately 80, and she is staring at the master bathroom with these cold, dead eyes. She never once looked at us as we approached her and began talking to her. I got to the bedside and got in front of her gaze, and she just looked right through me. I turned around to see what she could possibly be looking at, and there was the source of my smell.

A man, about the same age as my patient, is on the floor with very little left of his head still attached to his body. A shotgun lay on the floor next to him, and most of his head was strewn about the walls and bathroom counter. We loaded the woman up in the ambulance, and our police backup pulled up.

I don’t think that woman blinked once the entire time she was in our care.” – TheFilthiest

22. “Bill’s Here”

“I’m an RN and while I was a student I was caring for a lady who had an end-stage renal failure, had a DNAR (do not attempt resuscitation) and was shutting down. We were having a little chat when she stopped, looked over my shoulder and said ‘Bill’s here love, I’ve got to go,’ and swiftly stopped breathing. Read her old notes and Bill was her deceased husband.” – Jesspandapants

23. The Body on the Floor

“The call was for an older woman, lying in bed. When we get there, the smell is horrendous of a dead body. There are millions of flies everywhere and a little old lady in lying in the bed, alive. About five feet away, there is a body covered up by a sheet. The lady was a dementia patient, and her husband (the deceased) was the primary caregiver. Based on the number of flies and state of decomposition, the police estimated the guy had been dead for about three weeks. The woman must have been getting some food out of the refrigerator, but it was totally empty by the time we arrived.

The creepiest part happened on the way to the hospital with the woman, she said, ‘I hope that nice man on the floor is OK’.” – Tools4toys

24. The Fallen Cross

“I responded to a call where a janitor was dusting quite a large stone cross in the middle of a church. He had been up on a ladder cleaning, when he slipped off, and proceeded to try to hold onto the cross to keep from falling. Unfortunately, the weight of the 200-pound man was too much to support. The cross fell towards him, landing on his left arm, with a part of the horizontal stone of the cross, pushing his muscles and tendons out of his wrist like a squeezed toothpaste tube. Then the cross fell completely on him splattering his brain across the floor. Quite disturbing, and definitely the most horrific and gore filled call I had ever witnessed.” – UpboatOarKnotUpboat

25. The Headless Nurse

“I used to work in St Barts Hospital in London, which in parts is over 1,000 years old. One of the buildings had 2 floors (with massively high ceilings), and so the floors were taken out and rearranged to make into 5 floors. The nurses working night shift would often tell us of the ghost of a night nurse who wandered silently doing her ’rounds’ at night—but due to the new floors, only her head would be visible drifting down the ward.” – jenthejedi

26. Monsters

“I was still a nursing student at the time, but this was from when I had my psychiatric clinical placement in my 3rd year.

I was assigned to a young male patient with schizophrenia. He had been a voluntary admission because he heard voices telling him to hurt people around him, and he admitted himself because he was afraid of actually going through with it.

Anyway, I went into the room alone, as usual, and did the usual introduction and asking how he was doing. He was at a desk drawing creepy, hideous monsters—each monster had its own page, and there had to be at least half a dozen of these pages scattered around him. I asked him what they were. He answered that those were the monsters he saw. They were the monsters that whispered to him and told him to hurt people and do awful things. Guarded, I asked him, ‘Are they telling you to hurt me?’

He answered, ‘Yes.’

I didn’t stay very long in that room.” – duckface08

27. The Man in Black

“People turn batshit crazy and creepy as hell when they get really sick. There’s even a term called ICU psychosis…and trust me, it’s real. Anyway, the creepiest that takes the cake for me is this (am an ICU nurse, btw): Had a patient who was admitted for overdose. Very long history of mental health problems. She was thrashing around in bed, very combative, kicking people’s asses for days, totally incoherent.

Well, the night I had her, she started making decent sense, but still not oriented at all. She was extremely paranoid and kept talking about the man in black in the corner. I’d hear her talking to him and screaming, all night long. So I’d go in there and try to calm her down, but you could see the fear in her eyes. she was talking other nonsense about how she was in space and shit, and with certain patients, you try to redirect their ‘reality,’ but what I did didn’t help. She said ‘that man in black! Don’t you see him!’ and pointed to the corner. I said ‘there’s nobody here.’ I stepped in the corner she was pointing to and waved my hands around. While I’m waving my hands around in the air, she had the most horrifically terrified look on her face that actually scared the shit out of me, like I had just assaulted the man in black. I said ‘see, there’s nobody here’ and she said in a matter-of-factly that’s what you think.’ I promptly got the fu*k out of there.” – HeatherTakasaki

28. Eyes Wide Open

“I work in palliative. Most deaths I’ve seen have been more or less peaceful, though the ones that are not, stick with you. One guy was silently screaming through his last few hours of life. Another guy (who up until this point had been unresponsive) reached up and grabbed me when we attempted to lower his bed to turn him.

One time while doing post-mortem care I walked into the room and thought ‘that’s weird, how come nobody has closed his eyes yet?’ He had that movie-perfect dead look, with pale blue staring eyes and slack jaw and greyish, waxy skin. I closed his eyes and started the care, and when I looked again those eyes, still staring at me, were slowly opening, one slightly slower than the other. He groaned when we turned him to wash his back and his hand managed to clamp onto the bed rail and we had to pry it off. When we finally got him onto his back again, there was a foul-smelling, oily black, viscous liquid on the pillowcase. I cleaned his mouth again thinking it must have come from there, but his mouth and nose were clean. The best I could figure the stuff had come from his eye. I couldn’t wait to get that bag zipped up.” – draakons_pryde

29. Crawling up the Hallway

“I used to work as an STNA in a nursing home. Worked third shift throughout university. During the night we turned half the lights off so it was darker for the evening and didn’t get a lot of light in the residents’ rooms. We had one resident who was younger (70s) and was mostly in for mental reasons. She had long, dark hair and was very thin.

I was sitting at the nurse’s station at the top of the hall and heard a call light go off. I stood up, looked down the dark hall, and on all fours—straight out of The Ring—this resident was crawling up the hall toward me. The other STNA had forgotten to put the bed rail up and the resident was VERY good at climbing out of bed.

Needless to say, I needed some new britches and my heart was racing a mile a minute.” – blameitonthewookie

30. Heaven

“Had a young woman in full liver failure. She was orange in color and she was still conscious. She asked me what I thought it would be like to die. I told her I didn’t know but I hoped it wouldn’t be painful. She then asked me if I thought I would go to heaven. I told her that I believed I would. She asked me if I thought she would go to heaven, and I told her I wasn’t able to answer that question.

She then told me ‘I am going to heaven and I know it,’ and I asked her how she knew that and she told me something that I will never ever forget. She told me ‘I know I am because that man over there told me so.’ I asked what man and she said the man sitting on the end of the bench. I asked her what he looked like and she said ‘he looks just like the Jesus on the windows of my church.’

Well, to tell you I was pretty well affected by that statement. She then went on to say ‘And he says that you are going to go to heaven too.’

We then prayed and I will never forget that interaction between the two of us. About a week later she passed away. I hope she made it to heaven.” – Anonymous

#30 Doctors Nurses and Paramedics Describe their Most Disturbing Medical Stories #shared stories #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits

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weirdagnes · 4 years

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💄RUDOLF’S DRAG RACE AU 🏁

ALRIGHT SO this AU originally started in our Yeah We Outlasting discord server, artists started drawing the characters in drag and I WOKE HMSHD real shit man. So I'm making a masterpost for drag au on behalf of the server✊✊

Outlast 1 = Season 1

Outlast 2 = Season 2

Whistleblower DLC = All Stars

All of the characters and ideas for the characters were written in collab with @gothivican, @panopt1c0n, @grahaam and the rest of the lads in the server, y’all have such beautiful brains. So anyways.

Here are the judges:

Rudolf Wernicke. Lowkey bias, literally goes to the backstage and tells Miles to beat Billy Hope in a lipsync because Billy can't continue on the show for some reason. Has favoritism towards Blaire, but was forced to sashay him away by the other two judges. Also this bitch is dying, literally has a breathing tank support behind his chair.

Pauline Glick. A very sharp critic. Wore the same shoes? Call out. Oh that's your signature makeup? UGLY tone it down. Sorry, the colors don't match, you'll be in the bottom two for that.

Paul Marion. The kindest judge. He will give constructive criticism in the nicest non-offensive way possible and compliment them after (because he would feel guilty about it).

Alice as guest star. Supportive as f u c k, huge fan, she cries when meeting the queens in Untucked. She can't help complimenting the queens every 10 seconds, she gives off the Leslie Jones’ enthusiasm.

Lisa Park as guest star. Like Alice, very supportive. She’s an artist, and will break down all the reasons why they are so good from an artist’s perspective. Crushes HARD on Wyssle Blower, she might’ve given her number after the show.

Lynn Langermann as guest star. She’s a judge, and she will judge. Gives out well constructed criticisms to all queens fair and square until she saw Angel Fromm (Blake) and just says “Wow what’s there to criticize?” Sallyzekiel hates her, Valentina and Angel on the other hand loves her very much.

Here are the queens:

Miles Upshur as Kill-O-Meter. Primarily an insult comedy and rocker queen, and specializes in dancing. She tends to be criticized for a lack of glamour on some of her main stage looks, and is one of the most dramatic, sarcastic and shady queens of the bunch. Can and will stomp on you in latex boots for money. Besties with Wyssle and Chrisel, gets into a little heated talks with (occasionally) Peacock, (frequently) Ricky and Remy. She adores Cheets’ (Pyro) makeup skills. Winner of season 1 babey!!

Chris Walker as Piggy Chrisel. A punk/grunge queen who seems to specialize moreso in dancing and lip syncing. She's a shy, gentle giant, has a little trouble speaking coherently and it affects her in the acting/impromptu comedy challenges. She will call out whores though, she will kick ass when the situation calls for it. Really good at makeup, makeup girl-friends with Cheeto and besties with Kill O Meter (Latrila vibes). Also a perfectionist and hates mess on her work table.

Rick Trager as Ricky Trix. Whore, that's all. This bitch OBNOXIOUS and shady but she's both a glamour AND comedy queen, the other queens are watching out for her since day one. Horror and '80s inspired queen, extremely good at comedy and acting and will literally stomp the competition with nearly perfect impressions and extremely expressive acting. The downfall for her seems to be glam on the occasion and singing. Rivals with Kill O Meter and Miss Tini, kikis with Remy (they throw shade to other queens the moment they get em)

Father Martin as Miss Tini. The oldest queen but she can still serve the cakes. Generally a kind person, coming from a religious background. She’s takes the drag culture religiously. She gets along with The Twinks.

The Twins as The Twinks. Was recruited as two totally separate queens, but both quit on the first episode when one of the twins were to be eliminated. The queens tell the Twinks apart by who’s bald and who’s not. They don’t vibe with other queens except Miss Tini.

Pyromaniac as Cheeto de LaFlammeo. Queen of Makeup, she has some serious skill range on it. Good in the acting department, always plays as the tragic character. Was rivals with Kill-O Meter before, but one time when she had a breakdown, Kill-O Meter was by her side when no one was. After that, they respected each other.

Billy Hope as Billy Willy. CLOWN QUEEN, huge Crystal Methyd vibes. She’s the youngest queen, very energetic, a ball of SUNSHINE but Wernicke was a bias bitch and sent her home immediately the moment she was in the bottom. She was basically Kill-O Meter and Wyssle Blower's drag child. Hailed as Miss Congeniality, is voted by majority to return for a season 2 for going home a little too early than people feel was deserved. Best at makeup and outfits, her mom Tiffany taught her to sew and make dresses out of rags and other unconventional materials and the skill proved to be helpful. Also she likes puns and everyone likes playing with her name like: Silly Billy Willy, Witty Billy Willy, etc.

....

Waylon Park as Wyssle Blower. The Mom of the queens, the most well rounded queen, and the most 'fishy' one. Probably the smartest and most humble one out of everyone, she can read through people’s bullshit well. Genuinely looks like a girl in full drag, but always does her best on acting. She's serving you a cute, nerdy and quirky style, but can serve horror when need be. Always wins the mini challenges, she's not as loud as the other girls but she does beat Blaire in a lip sync (lowkey badass lipsyncer). Winner of All Stars babey

Jeremy Blaire as Remy Coco Ainée. Pretentious fake ass queen, even her drag name is just Cocaine in fake French. A pure fashion glamour queen, she serves it at almost all the fashion challenges but there's no more personality out of her other than that and her shady attitude (she will not hold back on the shade). Is extremely horrible at singing (her voice cracks) and acting, goes home against a lip sync with Wyssle. This bitch will FLEX her wins. Kikis with Ricky, mainly rivals with Kill O Meter, Wyssle and Peacock but she made everyone her rivals bc of her bitchass attitude.

Eddie Gluskin as Edna Taylor. Fashion queen, specializes in sewing, acting and singing, but is extremely lacking in the dancing department. Has a one-sided endearment for Waylon, and consistently tries to have her attention. Is extremely manipulative too, trying to consistently trip the other queens up. Also everybody hates her mohawk signature wig but nobody says anything about it because they don’t want to be victim to Edna’s mind games.

Frank Manera as Hanni Canni Bahl. Horror queen, best at comedy and dancing. Though it is prohibited, she’s able to sneak in weed, coke (for Ricky) and snacks in the werk room. Very messy when working, her discarded fabrics are EVERYWHERE and Chrisel is fighting the urge to clean it up. She eats while working when the camera’s off, and it stains the dress she’s working on (Pauline notices it).

Dennis as Denise. Mocked as “Edna’s little helper” as she always helps with her dresses. She’s trying too hard to impress Edna, and helps her get Wyssle’s attention. Very talented in acting and sewing, but bland in fashion, lacking in concept. Her inner conflict is what got her eliminated.

Simon Peacock as Julie Peacock. Rebellious, mischievous, and an ex-glam queen gone horror and campy instead. After being insulted much by glam queens (ahemRemyahem), she just embraced it and became a horror queen, serving the judges her horror aesthetic. Best at comedy, lacks extremely on acting and dancing though. No one is safe from her constructive criticism, and she will never stop ranting to Kill O Meter and Wyssle about Remy and Ricky being bad bitches and favored by Wernicke, she thinks it's unfair.

....

Blake Langermann as Angel Fromm. Singing queen!! Good at singing, but otherwise is moreso well-rounded, she might've been eliminated earlier, hadn't it been for her also low-key successful and iconic lip syncs. But the lucky winning streak didn't last forever, she goes home later in the season because she's slowly falling behind the other queens and can't keep up anymore. Has Rococo aesthetic, unfortunately the outfits can't make up for the lack of character as a queen. Though she needs a lot of improvement, the guest star Lynn adores her very much.

Val as Valentina. Queen of SEX or moreso impersonations and comedy. She’s a terrible tailor, but likes unconventional and simple fashion designs. She’s trans and lowkey Pauline has a crush on her the moment she walked on that stage. Pure rivals with Sallyzekiel, you know that iconic Aja vs. Valentina in Untucked? They had that moment. Probably goes home earlier, not entirely prepared, but still was a season icon. Definitely dropped it low about 10 times on her lip sync.

Marta as ImMartal. GOTH QUEEN, survived about early mid season. Best at her makeup and looks, glam queen, but the judges criticize her for wearing the same wigs/having the same hairstyle for almost every looks.

Nick Tremblay as Nicky Lanterns. Another gentle giant. Very introverted, she has a difficult time socializing with other girls because she’s generally not a very loud person. Really bad at makeup, her fashion sense is somewhat okay but it’s always on the ‘safe’ level. Pretty good at slapstick comedy, writing and concepts tho. It’s a wonder how Nicky and Lard Imp became “friends,” they’re complete opposites.

Laird Byron as Lard Imp. Whore, Exhibit B. Extremely rude, louder than Remy and Ricky themselves, and has a weird love/hate obsession with Angel for some reason. Everyone hates her, even Rudolf himself, and Lard Imp isn’t her original drag name but ultimately they came to a point where they just called her Lard Imp. Constantly denies the judges’ and the queens’ critiques, very delusional about winning the season and that’s why she’s the first one eliminated.

Sullivan Knoth as Sallyzekiel. The Big Bad Bitch of the season. Ultimate rivals with Valentina, constantly bullies Angel. Marta used to be friends with her, but after talking shit on Valentina, she says fuck you and defended Val. Glam queen, has an affinity for shoes but damn girl terrible makeup and padding. Really good with speech, acting and impromptu.

So far, here are the character designs we have made!

(1) Blake and Trager by @/pan0pt1con

(1, 2, 3, 4, 5) Waylon, Chris, Simon, Eddie, Miles and Jeremy by @/gothivican

(1) Billy, Miles, Chris, Wernicke, Pauline, Paul and Alice by @/weirdagnes

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crossbows-and-moonshine · 4 years

Text

Screaming Salvation (Part one)

[[ The rest of this author note is from when I wrote it, but this is me now. Here’s the first chap of the gift I promised. Please remember there will only be 5 chapters and as of now, I have no idea when I’ll go back to finish this.]]

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So this one will end up being AU. Focused heavily and my OC and Daryl rather than everyone else. Not much else to say, no idea where the fuck I’m going with this as usual loool Set before the group gets to Alexandria.

Name of the fic is inspired by a song. The Two Tongues by As It Is.

When I think of him there's comfort in the cold

He gives me solace when I offer him control

Her voice so beautiful will find me and explain

That life is agony but worth it all the same

I've been to hell and back

I've been living in between

Where the sky is always grey

And the grass is ever green

No I'm not sure I'm right

But I'm not sure I'm wrong

I'm just desperate to belong

Her voice like a sunrise

His voice like temptation

She sings to me softly

He's screaming salvation

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The sounds of boots slapping the damp mud in the forest, mixed with her own heavy breathing, were the only sounds in Rosalie's ears. Blaring like an alarm, letting her know exactly just how much she was in danger. And to put it lightly, she was fucked. She dodged and weaved the trees like a bat out of hell, eyes fixed on the break in the trees in front of her. The weight wrapped around her middle was weighing on her heavily, not just physically, but mentally. With each step it was as if she could feel just how heavy the burden placed on her shoulders really was. Like being put to the test, and she really fucking hated it. She had to get out of here, she fucking had to. She could still hear the men back further in the forest, not giving up the unrelenting chase of the young girl. Despite the fact her boots felt like they were filling with blood from her torn up feet, she didn't slow down. She was a lone survivor. Well maybe not completely alone, but she didn't exactly have anyone to have her back. She knew better than that by now. She’d been alone for years now. But the weight of having something else to keep alive, something to keep safe, it was a hard pill to swallow, especially when said thing was making life that much more difficult.

The cut on her arm stung like a bitch as it bled everywhere, the warm crimson liquid dripping down her arm. She had a fleeting thought that it was creating quite an inviting trail for the dead ones to track her with and have a nice meal, or even the assholes who were after her. She knew it'd need stitches and could only pray to a God that clearly either didn't exist or give a shit, that it wouldn't get infected. At this point, so far past the turn, finding antibiotics was a rare fucking thing. Her lungs burned deep in her chest from her violently sucking in air and heaving it out. She could only focus on getting far away. She knew she'd put a good distance between her and the assholes chasing her, being small and nimble had its perks. But she knew they were still chasing her, and she wondered with a dark feeling if they’d ever even stop.

She broke out of the tree line, but what should have felt like a small victory rapidly turned on its head as she was faced with a large group of survivors just a few feet away in the road. It felt like a fraction of a second before all weapons were trained on her, and she drew her machete with a shaky weak arm, the other curling protectively around the thickly wrapped sheet around her middle. Her eyes were wild. Fear and desperation clear as day in them. A girl who had seen way too much shit for her age. Twenty...something. She was twenty one when the world fell apart and she’d lost track of how much time had passed since then. She really wasn't sure anymore, she didn’t give a shit. None of it mattered anymore. The only thing that did matter was staying alive. Age had no purpose in the new world because no matter the number, your life could end swiftly from the dead or the living. It didn't matter if you were 5 or 82.

Her wide haunted eyes rapidly flit around, taking in the threats as she was assessing them. A man with shaggy hair and a beard, holding a revolver. A dirty man with a crossbow and a scowl that would make Satan shit himself. A black woman with swords, a young boy with a gun. There were more, but her fatigue was making it hard to even decipher them, her stance wavering as she fought hard not to collapse. She wondered if they were part of the group chasing her, but despite the fact they looked worn down and like they'd been dragged through hell and back, they didn't seem like it. They didn't give off the extremely dark vibe that the others had. The others, although clearly living and breathing humans, were more animal than man, and those were the kind you really needed to stay away from.

“I don't want any trouble,” her firm yet scared voice sounded foreign to herself, rough and scratchy from not using it for so long and from not having had a drink. She couldn't remember the last time she had a drink. She often went without these days. There was something much more important that needed it. The others squinted at her, and the man with the revolver cocked his head. She couldn’t hide from his eyes that looked like maybe he'd lost his marbles just a little bit. She couldn't really blame him, she had that same look in her own eyes. The one that said she had seen the darkest depths of hell, that said she was desperate and would do anything for survival. It was tense, none of them wavering as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. And then, the bundle wrapped securely around her moved and a small cry came from it. The survivor's eyes widened just a fraction, glancing at each other before back to her. A sound of a baby so strange to them, despite the fact they had one of their own. Some of them wavered their weapons a little, as if the idea of hurting someone with a baby wasn't something they could stomach. If they shot her, they could hit the baby, or the baby would get crushed when she fell like a sack of crap.

Rosalie swallowed thickly and took a shaky step back, her weapon still raised as she tried to see if they would put a damn bullet in her back the second she turned. Her hand held the baby's head protectively as she glanced down, shushing the baby in a low soothing tone. The man with the revolver slowly lowered his weapon, and most of the others followed suit. He was either the leader or they just trusted his judgement, Rosalie mused. He looked almost pained as he glanced at the wiggling bundle attached to the woman, the woman who seemed too haunted. The thought of one girl, one person on their own having to survive with a baby, made the man's blood run cold. He knew how hard it was and he wasn't ever alone anymore. He had his group, his family to have his back. To know that if anything did happen to him, the baby would be safe and protected still. And this girl, with the desperate look in her eyes that he knew all too well, she didn't have that luxury.

She exhaled a shaky breath and was about to leave, but that would be way too easy for the unfortunate events that made up her life. Nothing was ever easy in Rosalie's life. From the moment she was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck to her mother dying in childbirth, it only went downhill after that with her evil father shifting the blame onto the innocent child. Her life was one shitty thing after another, and the new world did nothing to change that fact. If anything, it made it much much worse.

The three vile men suddenly appeared out of the trees. It was as if they had somehow not noticed the large group of survivors not too far away, or maybe they were too stupid to care, their eyes on the prize as it were. She thought it was a combination of both. As deranged as these men were, they really weren't too clever or aware of their surroundings. It was how she managed to get away in the first place.

Rosalie's eyes widened in terror and took a step back, a low feral sounding growl erupting from her lips as she held her machete up, looking more alert than she did seconds before. She looked like a wild animal ready to attack, to fight for its life and do whatever it took to survive. It was a look that didn't match up with her almost angelic pretty face and tiny petite frame.

“Now now kitten, that wasn't very nice to leave us like that,” the man with long straggly hair sneered. He was thin and sickly looking, a wild gleam in his eye. The man to his left, far too fat for this world and Rosalie wondered how the fuck he’d managed that one, laughed loudly.

“Forget the girl, I want the baby,” the balding man to the right side gleefully stated. The words polluted the air and caused the group to gasp, shocked from the other survivors who were watching, weapons drawn and appalled faces. Because no matter the horrors you found in this world, something always came along to outdo it.

With no hesitation, when those vile vile words left the man's lips and then left them distracted by the other group, a loud snarl left Rosalie as she dove at the man, swiping her machete with a force that looked unreal for her small weak frame. The blade sliced cleanly through the man's neck, almost severing his head. And with a sudden flurry of movement and noise, the leader hit the floor like a tonne of bricks, a bullet right through the temple, as the man to his left got a bolt right in the eye and fell next to him.

Rosalie's head whipped to the others, seemingly shocked that anyone had even bothered to help her or the child. Did good people exist anymore? She really gave up that hope a long fucking time ago. She stopped expecting the best of people before the world went to shit and it only went downhill after. The thick silence filled the air and she blinked wearily at them. Fatigue was setting into her bones but she needed to go. She needed to find somewhere to hole up for the night, to find safety for the little thing attached to her that had seemingly taken over her life, the fierce need to protect. She turned her back, feeling like they wouldn't hurt her. Why bother helping if they'd just kill her? She started stalking away, wincing at the pain in her feet.

“Wait!” the voice rang out in the tense air and stopped her in her tracks, making her turn cautiously, half expecting a gun trained on her. But instead, she found the revolver man who had taken a few strides towards her. She narrowed her gaze distrustfully at him. In response he held his hands up, giving her a weird look, like he was looking at a scared animal and he didn't want to spook it.

“You should come with us, ain’t safe out here on your own, not with a baby,” his words were soothing, like he'd done this all too many times before. Diplomatic and calming. She was good at reading people and she wondered if he was some kind of law enforcement before the shit hit the fan. She'd had enough experience with police in her past to know one when she heard one. Rosalie chewed the inside of her cheek as her eyes flit to the others watching carefully behind him. Although no weapons were pointed at her, she could sense their readiness to do so if needed.

“They won't hurt you, we’re good people,” he said softly, as if he could sense her apprehension. He didn't really blame her for feeling that way, especially not after what they had just witnessed. It painfully reminded him of the other group he came across when one of his own had returned to him. The Claimers. The one slimy fuck that had his eye on his son, the one who ended up with his entrails all over the floor.

She didn't like this. She didn't like people and she didn't want to be part of another group just so they could fucking die around her like the last one all those years ago, not long after the dead started walking and got a penchant for eating people. She already had enough on her plate looking after the kid. She didn’t need feelings or attachments, nothing of the sort. One was more than enough. That shit was what got you killed out here. She didn't say a word, turning around and carrying on walking. The man's shoulders slumped a little, the idea of letting her and the baby walk away to an almost certain death not sitting right with him.

“We have a baby too...We have formula...if you need any. We look out for our own. You come with us, we can make sure the baby is safe,” Just as he hoped, the woman stilled again, but didn't turn to him this time. He could see her clench her fist a little, the one with no weapon. He also noticed the gash on her arm that looked like a defensive wound. It was dangerous to have a wound like that these days, and he doubted she could sew it up herself.

“Someone can help with your arm, sew it up. Won't be much use to your baby if you die from infection or blood loss,” he prodded, knowing the girl clearly cared about the baby and trying to coax her using that knowledge.

She slowly turned around, tugging her lower lip with her teeth as her bloodied arm came around to the baby’s head that was now poking out from what looked like a tatty bloodstained blanket that was tied tightly around her. The dark-haired baby cooed at her, pulling at her necklace, and Rosalie glanced from the man to the baby. She knew he was right, that she couldn't do this alone. If she died, what chance did the baby have of surviving? None. Just like when she had found him. She mulled around the idea of leaving the small boy with the people, but she found a strange pain in her chest when she did. She’d at least have to stick around a little to see if she could trust them with such a thing.

After a few tense moments of silence, she looked back up at the man, seeing his hopeful gaze imploring her to do the right thing. If they wanted her dead, they would have done it by now, that much was obvious. She’d run into too many bad people already in the new world. She could tell they were different. But despite the apprehension swelling inside of her, she had to. She had to fucking hope that maybe all the people left in the world weren't evil, and that maybe this was her chance to give the baby the life he deserved. The guilt swam deep in her veins, remembering what he said about formula. She’d ran out weeks ago, and the baby was surviving on mashed foods that were way too much for a boy his age. As much as she was grateful that the baby was mostly quiet, she knew deep inside of her, part of that reason was because he wasn't getting what he needed, wasn't getting the right nutrients and it was making him weak.

Rosalie took a deep shaky breath to steady her nerves before giving the man a small nod, and he breathed a sigh of relief, stepping closer. He didn't fail to notice how the grip on her machete tightened without her raising it, or how the arm around the baby gripped harder.

“I’m Rick,” he said with a warm smile, holding his hand out but she looked at it like he’d grown three heads. Shaking hands wasn't a thing in this new world. Hell, she didn’t shake hands in the old world either. She still took it though, her small hand giving him a weak shake and letting him see just how tired and weak she really was.

“Rosalie,” she muttered, her eyes tired and her whole body screaming with pain. She didn't offer up the baby's name but Rick didn't mention it. He would be protective of Judith too. He nodded at her and tilted his head in the direction of the group before walking back over to them. She heaved a sigh before trudging off after him, watching the others eye her curiously, some wary. They should be wary. They didn't know what she was capable of, and she knew they were smart just for feeling the same apprehension she felt about them.

“This is Rosalie, she’ll be joining us,” Rick’s words were firm as he gazed around the group that had become his family, waiting for anyone to speak up, to challenge him. But the baby cooed again and it was as if the noise itself was enough to soften anyone who may have had doubts, to leave such an innocent thing out in the world like this. The children were the future now, the only hope the cold world may have. And with no more words, they all turned around and started back on their journey. One to find somewhere to call home, to feel safe. Somewhere Carl and Judith could be safe from the horrors of the new world, and now somewhere for this new baby to have the same.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

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Songbird of Jamestown Ch.8 (Samuel Castell x fem! Reader)

Fandom: Jamestown ITV Series

Summary: You are among the English maids in 1619-1620 who have agreed to board ship for the new world in Jamestown, with the intention to marry the men there. You have chosen to find a husband and life of your own and pay back the company, than be pre bought and bound to a random stranger. Life is difficult and you and your friends struggle, but there is a certain recorder who’s willing to help. He’s kind-hearted and handsome ...and has already been pledged to another. You want to be with him...at what risk?

Chapter One //Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five// Chapter Six// Chapter Seven

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: attempts at accuracy that aren’t always on point, swearing, drinking, marriage, religion, a bit of bullying, angst that becomes fluff, and steamy parts but nothing explicit.

A/N: Here we are! The wedding chapter woohoo! I hope you all enjoy it!

“Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.”- Sonnet 116

“We may not be in England anymore, but have a Boleyn in our colony,” you heard him smirk.

The tavern tonight was supposed to be full of people. You shouldn’t have picked out that voice. Of the two dirty-faced men with dark beards leaning close over their beers. Yet as soon as you helped Verity finish another drinking song, you did hear it. As clear as thunder.

Some customers came by to press coins into your hands for the song or wish you luck for your upcoming nuptials. Those seemed deaf. You kept glancing back, wondering what you could even say.

“…Miss Woodbyrg’s fiancée…”

“…her maid, even! We’ll be counting the days until Y/N’s head gets lobbed off…” the shorter one hissed.

“Poor Miss Woodbyrg, one cannot understand her grief…” the taller one acknowledged with a shake of his shaggy head.

“Imagine giving someone like her up!”

“A beauty if there ever was one! And Castell tosses her aside for her former maid! Why would the madman do that?”

“Well, why do you think…one large reason why…who knows what Y/N had between her legs that carried him away…” he joked lasciviously with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Look at her, singing away for tips here like some beggar.”

No, you wanted to interrupt, Verity allowed your singing since her throat is sore. But you dared not and could only nod in silent thanks as a teenage boy pressed a gold coin into your apron pocket.

“That’s the woman Castell chose over Jocelyn. A dirty pub singer over a lady. Y/N’s probably after his money. And he just wants a whore he doesn’t have to pay.”

Bits of tears stung your eyes, you bit back your tongue. You turned away to the side to stare at a wall. Making a scene would not solve anything. They would think even worse of you.

“I thought the man was balless,” he chuckled “reading fairy stories and fawning over babes like a damn woman.”

“Maybe not! Now what’s beneath her dress is all he can think about! She must’ve brought the man out of him!” the man gossiped, gesturing towards you.

The words simmered in your brain so much you hardly noticed an old planter hobbling towards you. His beard was streaked grey and his balding head wrinkled.

“Why, that drinking song I’ve barely heard! Do ye happen to know…”

There were strong footsteps and a broad figure from behind cut in front of you.

“Do not bother the lady, sir!” he said

Nathan Bailey’s dark head cut in front of yours as he walked in front of you and you hid behind him. Samuel had paid him to help guard you at least until the wedding. It was a blessing and a curse. The new bride replacing an old one and needing a soldier accompanying her everywhere probably raised a few eyebrows, you wondered. But he did his job, never asked why, and was a decent young man.

“Oh! I meant nothin’ wrong! I was just moved!” the old man pleaded.

“I was just lost in thought, Nathan! He’s been perfectly respectful!” you cut in.

He turned to you with a huff.

“Alright, but if I see you or any man getting handsy with her, you’ll have ‘em chopped up!” he spat.

You mouthed a thank you to Nathan. He returned to sit by you, nursing his water but always hawk-eyed. Processing what you overheard, the insults piercing your insides, you hardly noticed Verity walking up to you.

“Why, Y/N--looks like you made enough coin to buy France! How about some…what…what is it?”

Her cheerful, freckled face darkened at you looking down at the floor.

“I…I’m just…I heard some…I can’t tell you. Not now…” you said, glancing back at the soldier.

The tavern had plenty of men. And even if it was empty, Nathan was there. You were hardly alone even when you had to use a chamber pot or squat in the woods to relieve yourself. Not when you worked. Especially not when you ate. As badly as you wished to confide in Verity…the soldier could overhear something.

“Oh, Y/N, don’t cry…” she comforted, using a spare cloth to wipe your face.

“Just…some people said…bad…bad things…” you managed to blubber out. You wished you could be strong, but it hurt.

She placed her hands on her hips.

“Oh, pah! Damn them all. You’re a good person, making money honestly, and you said you’re about to be married in two days! Who’s the man?”

“You don’t know?” you gasped.

“Is he decent? If not, I’ll…”

“Well-you…you haven’t heard…anything?” you asked.

“No, not even from you…and there’s been too many weddings here I can hardly keep track!” she said with a shrug.

It was not a secret so why hide it?

Verity stood next to the soldier. Her husband was playing cards excitedly with a large group opposite away.

“Do you know the recorder? He made me an offer of marriage and I accepted.”

“Ha! I knew-you’re far too pretty and far too sweet for any decent man here to turn his head away! But wasn’t he…he was…”?

“He was previously betrothed to… someone else. They decided to end things. Her money was paid already, so there was no debt. So, he asked me to marry him…” you said flatly. And technically, that was the truth.

She nodded in understanding. Perhaps even more than even you could say. Perhaps it was a fading in her eye. But she understood.

“Let me walk you home, dear, at least….” She said, looping her am around yours. “I ain’t scared of the bloody dark, I can walk back here backward without fear. But I can’t have a bride fall on her face she has to keep pretty for the wedding.”

The soldier raised his eyebrow and looked at you.

“That…that would be nice…” you answered.

The next morning, you fought not to nod your head off with Lady Yeardley. Sitting on her table reading as she listened was not too reviving an activity for the morning. You completed a reading of the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians. She picked that chapter and had you read aloud the fourth through the eighth verses. Looking up, you thought she would ask you a question for discussion. But it wasn’t a question, it was a phrase.

“Well, speaking of love- my dear...” she said kindly.

A smile broke on your lips. She took the brown bible from your hands.

“Today…today’s my wedding day, ” you finished despite yourself. You could hardly believe the words coming out of your lips.

She then took your palms and guided you to stand up with her.

“I…I’m so nervous, Lady Yeardley!” you confessed.

Was this even the right thing? You felt wrong. Perhaps not the altar was waiting at that church but the guilty nose of adultery. But you could not get the nasty comments of those men last night out of your head. What if they were right?

“I’ve already been married twice and even then I was always nervous at my wedding…” she recalled, taking the bible from your hands. And child! I know you’re afraid but…Castell is a good man, a kind man, you know that?”

You nodded.

“Lady Yeardley…you do not think…you do not think I’m a wicked, bad person, am I?”

“Why, no, not at all…”

“I always feel like I am…I feel like I am doing something wrong…”

“You consented to something sacred, Y/N, how could that ever be wrong?”

Now was the time.

“And I came here wanting a husband, a lord who could provide for me, take care of me. Someone who could protect me the way God protects us. And in turn, I would give him my respect and my…my obedience…” you added hesitantly.

Her eyes beamed. Even if it wasn’t entirely true, it wasn’t entirely false. But most of all, it was everything you knew she would want you to say.

Two can play at that game, Woodbyrg.

“Well, of course, my dear! And you’ve been blessed with the opportunity-there is nothing wrong with that! Quite the opposite in fact!” she cried.

You saw Nathan in the corner, ever diligent. He checked his fingernails for dirt, more interested in those than some silly female chatter.

“Perhaps…we can pray today…since I’m nervous…” you suggested. Now that was entirely true.

“Yes…”

Both of you knelt to the ground. Lady Yeardley asked for a blessing for you and Samuel, as well as a note of thanks for both of you being here in the colony together. It was genuinely sweet of her. Your eyes were closed, but you smiled again.

As soon as an amen was voiced, you got up. It was the morning already. But one other matter was pressing on you too much

Saying your goodbyes just outside, you turned to Nathan and ordered “please go with me to Samuel’s house, now.”

He trotted behind as you picked up your skirt and hurried there. He was puffing to keep up with your sudden speed.

“But- Miss! Miss! Istn’t it-you shouldn’t!” he huffed out.

Knocing eagerly on the door of the short house, you spoke through.

“It’s me! It’s Y/N!”

You heard a slight gasp and a panicked shuffling of feet and closing of doors. Mercy cracked the door, her lily white face face barely sticking out.

“Why Miss Y/L/N! Why are you here? Before it’s time?” she asked chipperly.

“Can…can I speak to him?” you asked.

“Today’s the morning of the wedding! You’ve got a dress and everything to get ready!” she cried

“Mercy, please! I just wish to speak to him! A little!” you begged.

“But miss! It’s bad luck for you to see each other before the wedding! You don’t want that, do you!”

“I don’t need to see him…just speak with him…” you reasoned.

She blinked her eyes, and then turned around. You saw Christopher peak his head in the space too out of curiosity.

“Mercy…could you cover my eyes and Christopher…cover his…that way we can speak?” you asked.

They looked at each other then nodded. Mercy walked you inside and then sat you down. She placed her pale hands from her sides oer yours until all was black. You heard a few footsteps.

“Y/N…what is the matter, darling? Is everything alright?” you heard Samuel ask. Thought the slight laugh in his voice was undeniable. “I haven’t put the check in yet…so you’ll have to wait a little while.”

“Samuel, if I am to do this, I have to know something…what am I to you?”

“Why, why such doubts?”

“There has been…been talk on my character…” you blurted.

“Who has been speaking? I’ll deal with them if need be!”

“No! I was worried if your intentions were…if they’re honest…because they said that…I must have been some, some conquest to you. Am I? Please be honest!”

“Oh, Y/N, I would fight those men if I could but…sweetheart, if I saw you as a conquest, would I consider marrying you? Would I consider using my own tobacco for you if I planned on abandoning you after?”

“…no, you wouldn’t…”

“You’re no prize. Y/N. You’re my light, my friend, my joy, my beloved-you know me better than anyone and you care for me more than anyone I’ve ever met. And I know if I am at that church and I don’t see you walk up to me later today… I don’t know what I’ll even think. And now I feel scared you…you won’t.”

You felt yourself sniffle “Oh Samuel, I’m so sorry! I was just hurt by gossip-can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive…you were hurt and unsure. And there’s been many a poor maid beguiled in the past. You didn’t want to end up becoming one.”

“I wish I could embrace you now.” You said, not caring who was there to hear it.

“We’ll have time for that after. There’s a check I need to give to the governor first…and I have to be at the church after, would you like to join me?” You could hear the smile in his voice

“More than anything else in the world…I will see you later.”

“I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

Mercy pulled your arm up and turned you around while your eyes were still closed. She walked you outside and closed the door. She trotted after you, but saw that the emotion welled up in you had let out. You let out a few tears and covered your hand with your mouth.

“Miss, there’s already a lot to do for today- and there’s something I…Why, miss? What is it? Please don’t cry!”

She took a handkerchief from her pocket, you noticed it was white with little strawberries sewn into the middle, You patted your eyes dry. Nathan stood by, quiet and watchful.

“Master Castell will not want you to see you so upset! Especially not today of all days!”

“I…I don’t think I’m upset…not anymore. I’m crying because…I’m happy. I’m happy that I can be sure he…he cares about me.”

“What have people been saying, miss?”

“I…I’ll tell you later. I just have something to ask of you…what is it you were talking about?”

She took your arm, pulling you excitedly to the front of your house. Nathan stayed outside, always keeping a safe, polite distance but his pistol ever by his side.

As you walked inside, you were surprised to see Alice there with pink flowers in her hands.

“Oh, Alice! Th-thank you!” you cheered, accepting the plants.

“I’ve picked them this morning, so they were fresh…” she added proudly.

“This is a precious gift, thank you!”

“Well, I have a gift…but it is not this one…” she teased, her cheeks grew rosier from the happiness shining from her beautiful face.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

She smiled mischievously, “I know it’s not like me to take things without asking…but you did so much for me, when we went on the ship and…and after and with everything…I had to thank you…so I asked for Mercy’s help. I’ve kept the key you gave me.”

“And right glad I did, miss-and it’s most beautiful!” Mercy cut in.

“What is?” you asked.

She stepped aside and gestured to your bed.

When you looked on it, there was your dress. It was your nicest dress. When you packed it, you knew that if, no, when you were married at the colony you would wear it.

But it was different. There were decorative little flowers sewn into the skirt. A few tears and patches were fixed and smoothed out. There was a beautiful, shining material added to the skirt and bits of gold decorations that shone in the light. It did not look like just merely a nice dress for a Sunday church service. It looked like a gown a queen in a fairy tale might wear.

Covering a slight gasp, you embraced the two of them with another hundred thanks for their work.

Mercy tied up your stays and helped you put on a few more petticoats. Alice held it gently open for you to walk in. Once it was slipped over your body and buttoned, you noticed the skirt felt wider, as if you looked like you were floating. You slipped two lace gloves, the only luxury the company gave each woman aboard, Mercy nudged your arm.

“Oh! Please! Please let me do your hair! I’m so good with hair and I’ve had practice!” she begged with wide eyes.

“Why…sure…you can, Mercy! I’m sure you do wonders!” you agreed, settling into the chair.

It had been long since England since any changes were made to your hair. Since first boarding the boat it had grown out some. Mercy was gentle as she tucked in strands, put pins in, and did her best to brush it through and present your hair in a way that was beautiful.

“And these!” she cheered, pulling a few flowers from her pockets and tucking them into the crown of your head securely.

Looking at your reflection in the window, they looked like little jewels. Alice folded her arms and admired it quietly.

“One more right here…I do hope you are not tender-headed, miss….”

She fixed it in a way that flattered your face yet felt soft, free, and romantic. Alice’s eyes went bright as you turned to face her.

“Oh…oh heavens…you look beautiful, Y/N…” Alice said.

“I don’t know if the whole world itself had such a bride!” Mercy declared, folding her arms behind her.

You were on the verge of your next hug when there was a knock on the door. Christopher walked in.

“Ladies…the check has been delivered. In a few minutes, he’ll be ready at the church.” He reminded.

“Yes, but get you gone! You have to be there too!” Alice teased, shooing him away. She waved goodbyre as she left.

“I’ll see you after, Y/N…”

Your heart began to beat hard against your ribs. The time was approaching.

“Mercy…Mercy…thank you- you made this all happen…not to mention all of that cooking!” you recalled.

“I’m only glad you could assist me!” she said.

“I couldn’t let you do all of that by yourself!”

She smiled, sniffing up a few tears herself.

Outside, you heard up a few fiddles and instruments playing in the distance. You knew they always did at weddings. And here they were, almost like an approaching army but not bringing war but bringing joy and expecting not a battle, but the approach of a bride.

“You’re most welcome…Miss…Mistress Y/N…I bet the Master might swoon at the sight of you…”

“I’m feeling dizzy myself…” you confessed.

Taking a deep breath, sudden fears clenched inside your stomach, images and bitter memories flashing in your mind. This was all too perfect. Any minute, something horrible might happen. Something would go wrong.

“Oh miss! Don’t be so troubled! Today is going to be the most heavenly day!” she cheered.

You nodded, returning the strawberry handkerchief to her.

“Yes I will…I’ll try to forget everything…I’m just…nervous. I almost feel like I’m going to die once I step inside that church…” you confided.

“Why, you won’t die! But the master might die of unhappiness if you don’t! You can clutch my hand as we walk…that way you know that today is today!”

She handed you the pink flowers from Alice.

“And I might die of unhappiness if I don’t make myself go too…” you reasoned.

Shaking it aside, trying to slow your breathing, you both walked out. You treaded through a bit of dirt, but you didn’t mind. You kept your eyes forward. There was plenty of a crowd watching. Even if they were running errands about town, they watched. Your gown contrasting with the many drabber colors of ordinary day clothes as if you were a large butterfly. Some ladies even curtsied, and men took off their hats in reverence.

Finally, you saw the church. And a few figures outside the door.

Samuel was there, so was Christopher by his side, patting his back in brotherly congratulations. You felt as if your breathing would stop at the sight of Samuel. He looked incredibly dashing, his cape just over his shoulder, and never more like a prince than today.

When you walked up to the entrance, Mercy slipped out of your arm to go back into the crowd. You took a few soft steps to be by his side.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” he said quietly into your ear as the doors opened.

“Thank you…you as well…”

A few witnesses, Christopher and the Yeardley couple, walked in as everyone else waited outside. Reverend Whitacker stood at the altar. The church had been decorated with a few extra flowers than normal. But oblivious to any unsanctimonious joy, he stared at you both. He was a sour faced man with long gray hair and beady eyes, analyzing you both. And his solemn frown seemed a bit serious for a wedding. Had he heard the rumors in town concerning you? And believed them? You wanted to freeze. You kept walking up and reached the altar.

Whitaker began to read the first rites. Looking down, once your other hand let go of the flowers, you noticed it was shaking. This was all so happy. Too happy almost. But here you were, about to be married to the sweetest, dearest, best of men. You had braved separation from your family, a voyage on a ship, hard work, faced drudgery, heartbreak, and came close to death. It was all overwhelming, and the words and first prayers seemed numb to your ears. You found you were smiling a little, but you wanted to cry again.

You felt Samuel turn his head to see you. His eyes were a little bright and his mouth closed as if trying to keep himself from speaking or anything lest he should cry too. You felt his hand come close and take yours. You accepted it. He felt less tense, as did you.

Samuel leaned forward after a prayer to him.

“If you would mind, minister…I asked you about a passage from the book of Ruth earlier…can it please be read here for the ceremony?” he asked.

“It’s not normal to…”

“Pease, just for this ceremony, I think it would be appropriate for today…” Samuel reasoned.

“If it’s for this ceremony, I will…” He nodded soberly, turning his head down to the bible and flipping the pages.

You turned to face Samuel. As the priest read, you could see him lightly mouthing the words to you. As if he was genuinely saying them to you.

“Entreat me not to leave thee or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people will be my people, and thy God my God.”

A stray tear escaped you. But your smile widened.

Finally, you made vows to love and honor each other. Your voice became stronger with each promise “from this day, until death do us part.”

After a bit of communion with wine and bread, a final prayer was said. You began to breathe in a little deeper. You felt his hands were shaking as well. Both of you let out a deep breath as if you both were holding it in throughout.

“I now pronounce you, man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Samuel leaned forward and kissed you so quickly and deeply you almost got dizzy. Your hands reached up and froze, and then wrapped around, deepening it.

It’s…it’s done! It’s happened! I never knew it would happen. This day I never thought would ever come.

Once you walked out, almost in a trance, the crowds of people were outside. You wondered if they would jeer or throw mud at you for a second.

They applauded. Women in pretty dresses and their hair done in braided buns tossed flower petals from their baskets. Samuel took your hand and raised it up and men cheered for him. Alice even walked up and gave you a large hug.

“Congratulations, Mistress Castell,” she said.

More people, strangers even gave their good wishes. Nearby there was a small band of musicians playing fiddles, drums, flutes, fifes, and you gazed at them, smiling at the joy of the music and all that it brought you.

You felt Samuel gently put a hand on your shoulder as you listened, and then turned around and kissed you again, and you felt yourself smile into it.

“I never knew I could be this happy…” you confessed.

“Neither I…but I love you, my sweeting,” he said cupping your face.

You leaned into it, kissing part of the palm of his hand and grinning. A few flower petals went over you in a flurry and some got into his brown hair.

“You didn’t tell me you would wear flowers today!” you joked, following the wedding party as everyone began to walk.

“I guess I wished to match you!” he replied, he gently took a hand to touch the little flowers in your hair that was Mercy’s touch. In turn, you brushed a few petals off his shoulder and placed them on the top of his head teasingly.

Everyone went over to the tavern. Tables set aside; everyone went quiet once each person received a glass of ale. Governor Yeardley himself handed you and your new husband two each.

“Everyone!” he barked. The party stilled.

He beamed at you two. Glasses with ale were passed around to as many as who could get one.

“Castell is a good man, a man without whom our colony would be lost and dysfunctional. Every day, every event we see him scribbling away in the corner, making sure our history is secure. Y/N is an honest, God-fearing woman. Together are the ideal, perfect couple for our colony.”

“To the health of the Castells and of Virginia!” he declared, drinking deep. The rest of you followed suit.

Mercy and a few of the women began to scramble in and out of the room carrying plates of food. Music picked up as everyone began to feast on the bounty saved for today. You enjoyed eating with Samuel publicly without a sense of shame.

“That verse was beautiful, thank you…Whitaker isn’t always a friendly man…” you said.

He nodded and beamed, “I’ve talked with him a bit before…and I thought with the conversation we had earlier…it felt right to have it in. It’s from the Bible after all.”

People walked up to congratulate the two of you constantly. If you happened to be chewing on bread as someone babbled away, Samuel put a protective hand over you and thanked them for your sake so you could eat your food. Christopher was arriving as Samuel got up from his seat and embraced him happily, the two of them talking deeply with large smiles.

The same musicians began to play some tender ballads. You both enjoyed biting into your wedding cakes, the ones Mercy handed out, made with honey into it and frosted with powdered sugar. Samuel brought your hand to his lips and kissed it.

“I’d like to speak with Farlow and the governor, I’ll be back…”

“I’d like to speak to the Sharrows, I’ll be back as well…” you said, both of you getting up from your chairs.

Once you had wandered, talking with the Sharrows, and a few more people here and there, you found yourself backing into a corner. It seemed as if almost all of the bloody colony had arrived and the air was stuffy with the crowd. It was fading to be the hours of dancing and people began to step away to form a dance floor in a messy oval in the wooden room. Silently, you felt yourself walk backwards. You felt the cool air of evening by your cheek as you got close to the door.

“Congratulations on your marriage…” a voice as low and smooth as honey spoke to you.

“Why th…”

Head turning, your heart stopped at the sight of her.

“Yes. Thank you.” You said to Jocelyn.

Your feet were stuck in place, and a word kept repeating in your head, ‘no no no no, no, no….’ As hard as you tried to plaster a smile on your face, your food began to swirl in your stomach.

“May I ask, what is Samuel doing tomorrow?” she questioned matter-of-factly. “Who is he speaking with?”

Her eyes looked down at your dress in surprise at the work and quality. For once, it was clear from your clothes that you were no longer below her station.

“He’s going to just do his normal work of recording Assembly business. And that’s it. Why should that matter to you?” you said.

“It should. If you do not know what is happening in here, then you’re truly a dull woman. You’ve been married for an hour, you should know these things.”

You shrugged.

“I don’t care to know them.”

“That’s your folly. Give him a smile and be sweet, that’s all you have to do to get a man’s attention…it seemed that and spreading your legs to him worked in your favor, after all. Now you can use it to be useful.” She added with a glance in his direction.

“I have not spread my legs once to him!” you blurted quietly, glancing to make sure no one overheard. You had had enough.

“That’s what everyone thinks now. You’ll have to-might as well be practical with it. But perhaps…you aren’t that good in bed. Well, when a wife can’t satisfy her husband…you know what they say happens, it’s the nature of men…” she said with a wicked smile.

A hundred curses were caught in your throat.

“If that’s all you have to say then I do not need my time wasted, there’s guests I’d like to talk to before the day is over,” You replied a little icily.

There was only so much you could do or say with people surrounding you.

“If you are going to blindly let Farlow, Redwick, and Yeardley destroy everything, your time is being wasted,” Jocelyn said.

She adjusted the hat on top of her head from tipping too far off.

“They aren’t much! And this isn’t a day for politics…it’s a day for feasting and my food is getting cold,” you dismissed, starting to walk away.

She swerved in front of you.

“It’s also about to be a wedding night and if you don’t please him tonight with your pathetic body...”

“Thank you for your kind sentiments,” you interrupted sarcastically. “Now I must leave, farewell.”

As you turned away, deciding it was best to be aggressive, you felt her grip your arm, pulling you in close with an immense strength that you were surprised Jocelyn had in her slender arms. Your stomach dropped and you bit back the urge to yell. Perhaps she was provoking you on purpose. Especially in public on your wedding day.

“I haven’t forgotten. This will not make you any safer. Samuel gave the company the money so you could be his slut. Now no one cares what happens. you’re a dead bitch walking,” she hissed lowly so that only you could hear.

Fear gripped you. Your face dipped down, feeling warm. You could have sworn a head or two turned your way out of the peripheral of your eye.

You released a false laugh, your courage growing, and walked away from her.

“Miss Woodbyrg, what a funny joke!”

She looked stiff as a bust. Her soft, plump lips were growing tight.

“I mean it,” she voiced.

Biting away a frown, you heard the fiddles pick up a quick tune.

“You must excuse me,” you said in an official voice as you could muster. “I’d like to have a dance with my husband.”

Fleeing as far from her as you could, you joined your husbands side on the other half of the room.

Seeing your face, his own turned dark.

“Darling, what is it?” he asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You shook your head, feeling one flower fall off a strand of your hair.

“It’s…it’s just I’m…I’m worried…” you confessed,

“Can you discuss this now?”

“Not with everyone around us…”

“It will be alright but…would you like to dance-would it make you feel better?”

He gave you his open hand. You placed your own hand, blanketed by your lace gloves, in it.

“Y-yes,” you agreed.

You got into lines and danced with the others finding him surprisingly talented. They were simple country dances that everyone knew so as many people could attend the wedding as possible. But you smiled with the movements, the switching of arms and touching of hands as you walked with him in a circle, skirts and the odd cloak floating like a bird’s wing. How couples could line up and run to the ends then run through the lines of people and still be together. Even if there was a mistake or a stepped toe, people smile and chuckled it off. Any worries were replaced with your muscles getting sore from the quick movement.

As the song ended, instead of a last gentlemanly bow as was tradition, you felt Samuel walk to you and place his arms around your body. In an instant, he lifted you up and you started laughing, placing your arms around his shoulders for security as he twirled you around, your skirt billowing. The others smiled at the sight.

“Today, I am the happiest of all men!” he chirruped to them, giving you a sloppy kiss on your cheek as you returned his embrace. It was comforting, enveloping even.

Though you felt yourself sight a little once he let go.

There were so many dances, you weren’t aware your feet were hurting. Or that the sun long past dipped over the horizon.

Mercy picked up her apron and ran to you. In one hand she held a large cup of ale.

“Oh, Miss…. Mistress! No- Mistress Y/L/N! No, not that! Mistress Castell!” she corrected herself.

"It's alright Mercy, I'm new to it myself!" She blinked away tears, rubbing it off with her eyes. Her chest huffed with crying.

"I'm so happy today! So happy! I'm so happy for both of you! How he smiled! I thought he would burst when we walked up to him! I remember how you comforted me-I was the first person you even spoke to here. But now…now you're my mistress after you've been my friend, and my last mistress…she…she’s so… and….and oh! I feel so much!" she cried, letting out pent up tears.

"Have peace Mercy! It's normal to cry! Everything's changing, but for the better this time! Just dance and enjoy yourself!" you cheered.

Returning the strawberry handkerchief, it was your turn to wipe off her sniffling face.

"I have to clean up all the…"

"No, you don't! Just enjoy the party!" you insisted.

"But its ending! See! Everyone's walking out and…you have to…to go home and I have to pick up the mess!" she refused.

Part of you jumped, already with a faint jittery shiver running down you.

"Let's just…finish your drink, let's enjoy today while it lasts and not worry," you suggested.

She drank half of the ale in a large gulp.

"But…you might need some water, too," you added.

People filtered out with bright eyes from dancing and farewells on their lips.

Samuel walked up to you and linked his arm around yours. Suddenly aware of how close he felt, your breathing quickened. You felt flushed from all the people, excitement, and dancing.

He wished any slightly drunk guest's good night as you finally walked outside into the night. It felt crisp compared to the cramped dancing quarters and you shivered a little. Clutching his arm, you felt yourself become weak at the sight of what was now your door.

"Welcome home, Mistress Castell," he said as he opened it. "Can I carry you in? It's bad luck if you trip when you walk inside."

"Yes, you may."

He scooped you into his arms and carried you past the main room. Looking around, you saw more flowers were on the tables, chest, and desk than what was normal, into your shared room. You could have almost collapsed from the nerves and excitement.

The bed had been decorated with a few spare ribbons tied into bows. Just like people did for weddings back home. You even noticed that there were pink primroses on the chest next to the bed.

As he let you down, both of you stood near each other. His face looked as flushed as your and he placed his hands together in what seemed to be…timidity it looked.

"Have you…have you eaten well? People kept talking to us, I hope you aren't hungry from all of that," he asked.

"I'm stuffed, I can't take another bite…it was all good, though," you said, attempting to break the awkwardness.

"Have you had some water?"

"Yes."

"I have…I have a little bit of wine I've been saving. I thought we could open it to…to celebrate…" he offered.

"Yes, I would like that," you replied.

He hurried out, returning with the bottle and two green glasses. You sat on the edge of the bed and watched as he poured you both a glass. Sitting by your side, you clinked your glasses together in a toast, having your first sip.

"Your house looks wonderful with the flowers" you complimented.

"I did it for you. Well, Mercy did too. We both picked them. She laughed at me picking them."

"You've picked plenty of flowers before..." you gestured to the primroses.

"I thought you would like that touch. Even then I wanted somehow to show you how much I adore you…"

Leaning forward, though wine was still on your breath, you took his hand and kissed it, leaving a small mark on it.

"I hope every day I can show how much I adore you as well…" you said.

He gave you another kiss, trailing over from your mouth to the crook of your neck. You gasped at the feeling. Your hands naturally went to hold onto his arms, but you felt his hands wander to the buttons on the back of your dress, teasing away at them much to your mixed nerves and thrill. But then as he pressed another kiss on a certain spot on your neck you had to let out a laugh.

"Mmph, what is it, Y/N?" he asked quietly.

You replied, "your beard tickles!"

Both of you laughed a little from the released tension.

"It's been itching me since morning," he confessed.

"I can't take it off, but I can help you with your cloak, can I?" you offered.

Sitting so you could reach it, you unhooked it and set it away.

He undid a few buttons of his doublet then paused.

"And let me help you…first with your hair…" he said.

Nodding, you sat and felt his hands touch it, letting strands free. He took away the flowers, pins, the turns, and tucks. You realized he never saw you with your hair down…and felt the last part fall free. You looked at him, with your hair freely released and everything set aside. His eyes were sweet. He gently took a strand.

"You'll have to get used to it being down all the time, now…" you commented.

"I won't mind at all…would you like to change out of your clothes?" he asked.

"Yes, I think it's time I did."

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you." You had more to remove than he did.

His hand went to the back of your dress and you felt him unbutton it. Slowly, as if he was touching a piece of glass, he removed the dress, then helped you out of your petticoats, and slowly undid your stays, figuring out how to loosen them. The cups of wine were left on the chest, almost entirely drunk. You felt yourself feel warmer with each bit of skin that was slowly being revealed to him. Finally, you felt it loose enough to be taken over your head.

He looked down as you stood before him in your shift, and only your shift. His eyes softened.

"I…I know what you expect of me tonight…" you confessed, jumping right to it.

"I…I…uh, yes. I…I don't expect…expect anything…" he said, his ears going pink.

"Have you…do you have any diseases? You can be honest with me," you pleaded.

"No, I don't," he answered, shaking his head.

He began to undo the buttons of his doublet and removed it, in his white shirt.

"Have you been with anyone?" you asked, placing your hands in your lap.

He froze. His blush increased to his whole face.

"Twice. You will be ashamed of me…"

"You can tell me. Was it anyone here?" you asked.

"No. I was of age and wanted to prove to my brothers that I was a real man. I decided to try a prostitute in Oxford…I got too attached. I saved up to see her second time. I wrote her a few love letters and tried to visit her, and she laughed me away after…I was young and foolish," he recalled.

"You just didn't know…" you commented thoughtfully.

He removed his shoes, stockings, and pants. Now he was also in his shift as you were.

"And you? I know they all boast of the purity of the maids to make wives…but we're alone now, Y/N. You can tell me. Have you been with anyone?" Samuel asked in turn.

You looked him in the eyes, your beloved, and told him honestly about what experience or lack of experience you have had. He was nonjudgmental and nodded in understanding. Jocelyn's words from earlier flashed in your mind.

"I just don't want to…to... to displease you," you said, looking down at your feet.

"You're my wife now, I made vows before God to protect and cherish you. I don't care about being pleased. I just want to tell you that you'll always be safe with me. And you shouldn't be forced to anything. We don't have to do anything tonight." He assured you.

He felt a slight rush of excitement as he went up to kiss you again, feeling butterflies in your body as he did. But you felt an aching further below. You pressed your lips further, tasting the wine. You began to lay down on the bed, feeling it shift with your new weight on it.

He turned his head up and asked "would you…would you like to make love tonight? If you don't want to, I…"

"Yes!" you cried.

"Yes?…are you…"

"It's our wedding night! And…I want you too much…" you replied bluntly, looking in his eyes. Perhaps it wasn't ladylike to admit it. He didn't seem to care. And it was the truth.

You took his hands and led them to your sides. He laid you down softly on top of you, but not his whole weight. You could even feel how badly he wanted you from under his shift.

"Well, if my wife insists, I'll obey…" he smirked.

Letting out another little laugh, you began to kiss him. Your hands began to touch him boldly, you felt his body from the shift-his back, his biceps, his waist, and you felt one of his hands get to your hair. You pressed each other's forehead against each other breathing in deep with the cold rush of each other's breath. Courage made you push him a little bit away. You placed your hands over the tie on the front of your shift that held it together, the last thing hiding your "pathetic" body. You unhooked the front of your shift. His pupils went large once you removed it over your shoulders and let it fall away.

He smiled at you, "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Y/N…God, you make my head spin."

As you laid back on the bed with a grin, your heart beating against your ribs so hard that you could hear it through your eardrums, you looked up at him you laid down and he placed one hand on the collar of his shift and joined you.

"Tell me you love me," you voiced nervously.

He took it off and laid on you, cupping your face again.

"I love you…that's everything I can think of right now. I'd say some pretty verses I'd say to you now but…at the sight of you naked I forgot it entirely…"

"I appreciate the thought, my darling," you commented with a smile.

It was a night that was tender. Every physical urge you both suppressed around each other was released in a wave inside of you. Pleasure flooded every inch of you. You forgot the men at the tavern. You forgot the tears from earlier. You even forgot the woman you wanted to forget about most of all. You only knew his name. You cried out his name as a prayer many times that night. And he prayed yours.

Now completely, husband and wife, you both fell asleep in a tangle of each other's arms.

Taglist: @bluesfortheredj (sempai) @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @theworksgaga @itscale @theoneandonlyeclecticepileptic @queenlover05 @rubystarflight @themficsilike @namelesslosers @itsametaphorgwil @grigorlee@isitstraightvodka @rhapsodyrecs @cxllianmurphy @princealfie

15 notes · View notes

m2jay · 4 years

Text

True Self [Genos x OC]

Ch.1 | ~The Task~ (pt. 2)

“Yes, Master?”

“I want to read damn it!” he whined.

Genos gave in and slid the mangas to him. “You’ll probably learn faster than me.” he admitted his defeat as he watched Saitama indulge into reading. As he read the first volume, Genos pulled out his journal. He wrote down about each volume’s art cover. Each one was unique and conveyed different emotions from determination to a certain goal and closeness between others.

“This manga is good!” he shouted.

Without another word, Genos prepared his futon to go to bed as he knew his master would just read the rest of the night. Wondering about his progression to more strength, he had his doubts on whether he’ll even improve. He wanted to get stronger and to be like his master, Saitama. Aside from that, he still had that goal of terminating that cyborg that killed his family and town. However, it seemed like that’ll all have to wait for he knew that it would take a while.

The next day, the two of them woke up to some sort of earthquake that was rumbling, or so it seemed. Genos placed his hand down to get a better feel on what was going on as he used his sensors. He sensed 4 figures quickly heading towards their direction. He warned Saitama about what was ahead as he jumped out from the patio. Carefully landing as best as he could, he cracked the floor when falling. His impact when making contact was too much for the floor to handle.

Genos looked up and found himself against a camel cricket, buff ladybug, and yet another mosquito mutation. He wasted no time and raised his arm to aim his blasters from his palms. “There was another. Where did they go?” he firmly asked as his blasters slowly lit up, ready to fire.

The camel cricket snickered. “Well, well. It’s not like we need to tell you, do we?” it chuckled cockily. Its irises shrunk, showing it had no intention of backing down. It jumped high to the walls and moved swiftly to different directions. Thankfully, it wasn’t as fast Sonic.”You humans have killed off us insects for far too long!”

“Tch.. Incinerate!” he yelled as he shot his blasters at the camel crick, but it didn’t go make contact with the mutated bug. The large ladybug blocked it with its elytra. “Damn pests!”

The buff ladybug laughed at the blonde cyborg’s attempt. “Foolish of you to try to set fire against us with this hard shell of mine!” it cocked. It’s voice was rather deep but had this goofy male tone with some femininity aspects It flew down with its closed wings to try to land on Genos head on, only to have him parry to the side.

From behind, the large mosquito swung its proboscis from behind. It slashed part of his shirt. “You don’t seem to have any blood, do you now?” it asked rhetorically.

Genos turned to run up the wall before the mosquito had the chance to pierce through him. He didn’t want to let Doctor Kuseno repair him so soon, especially in such a mediocre fight. Glaring at the creatures, feeling displeased. Patiently waiting for them to lunge at his direction, he calculated their movements strategically. Waiting for the moment of opportunity, he focused his attention to seem like he was watching the ladybug to trick the others that he had let his guard down.

The camel cricket pounced at him. Its claws moved forward as it tried aiming at the cyborg’s center, but Genos had anticipated it to an extent. He jumped and stomped on its abdomen, giving him a boost forward as he focused his attention to land a hard roundhouse kick at the strong ladybug.

The ladybug slid across the cement, leaving a trail as it went through the floor. It looked up at Genos angrily as he noticed him running to his direction at full force. Its femurs enlarged themselves as it seemed to bulk up its legs. Its sharp end thrusted to hit the persistent cyborg. However, Genos had grabbed the camel cricket’s leg from behind and swung it at the ladybug, making its blood splatter. The ladybug’s eyes widened and yelled, “You can’t get through me!” as it looked up at the mosquito, smirking.

The blonde cyborg took notice of its eyes' direction and briefly looked up. He was about to parry, but the ladybug smacked him to the side and made him hit a wall. He twitched as he carefully got himself out of the wall’s crease quickly before the large bugs could strike. As he watched the robust ladybug ram itself into the wall, he saw how it kept its feet down to have a piercing landing. It didn’t open its elytra because it was protecting its abdomen. Knowing this information, he made sure to keep the large mosquito at a far enough distance to give me some time.

“I do believe in survival of the fittest, but you won’t rule over us.” Genos told them firmly as he started blasting his hands at the mosquito flying around. “Incinerate!” He then noticed the ladybug was charging at him, The blonde cyborg smirked confidently as he flipped forward, making the bug run right under him. He quickly turned to hop onto it and began to heave at its elytra and soon yanked it off completely.

“AGH!!!” the ladybug screeched in pain out loud. Its legs shrunk and its wings began to appear more dense. It appeared to be transferring its strength to different parts of its body.

The mosquito made one last attempt to save its accomplice. It went towards Genos like a drill. “Bzzt!” It buzzed.

The cyborg looked behind him and calculated its speed. He gritted his teeth as he stepped to the side and sliced the mosquito’s proboscis. “You surely aren’t part of the House of Evolution.” he sneered.

The flying pest’s eyes widened in shock and fear. He quickly started flying away. “It’s not the e--!” it stopped yelling before it could finish it’s sentence.

Saitama came out and joined the fight. He looked at the mosquito with a dull expression. His hand was at the ready as he moved it back to get a proper thrust. “Mosquitos.. Suck!” he said before doing the final blow as the bug splattered its blood everywhere.

Genos soon dropkicked the ladybug’s wings, making them shatter into pieces. With the bug’s abdomen finally exposed, he raised both his arms up and held his hands together, lowering them down full force onto it. Finally, their extermination was over. He looked back at the bald man, who was flicking the bug blood off his gloves. “Sensei, these insects were strong, but not compared to the ones we fought before.”

“Huh.” he stared. “Oh! Like that Mosquito Girl I slapped when I found you.” he pointed out.

“Yes, exactly that.”

Saitama shrugged as he felt indifferent. “It is a problem, but they don’t seem to be as strong for now.” he then started walking away and motioning his disciple to follow. “We need to do our work out now.”

Genos obediently followed and jogged up to him to catch up. “Of course.” he responded.

They did the tedious training that Saitama had called intense. The 100 pushups, done. 100 sit-ups, done. 100 squats, done. All there was left was the 10km run left to do. Saitama had suggested that they run through the cities and make their way to that dirt track by the river where Sneck had attempted to do rookie crush him. The two headed to the river and ran around it until it was over.

Towards the end, out in the distance, Genos saw someone running in a hurry. He squinted for a bit only to see that it was Miyu. “Hey!” he yelled out to her to get her attention.

Miyu briefly looked back and saw the blonde cyborg calling out to her. Feeling uncomfortable and rushed, she dismissed him with no response and continued on her way with her stuff at hand. She felt this heavy weight weighing her down since her clothes were practically drenched. As she ran, she hoped for her clothes to dry sooner to feel less sticky.

Saitama turned his head to face where Genos’ attention was at. “Oi, who’re you yelling to?”

“It’s the new worker I was telling you about, Master” he replied.

The bald man’s eyes lit up with excitement as his fists by his chests shook. “The one with good taste?” he asked as he looked at her. Saitama noticed her clothes and the luggage and looked at her dumbfoundedly. “What an odd one she is.” he commented. “Oh! Genos!” he clapped his hands together as he had an idea. “Go get udon right now. Eating hot food when it’s hot tests your endurance!” he suggested. “Buy me one too.” Internally, he felt proud. To him, Genos had finally found something to learn that didn’t involve him too much, just a push. He then walked away and headed to King’s place.

“Master, what will you do?” Genos asked with slight concern, “What about your food?”

“I have a pressing matter to attend.” he lied as his true intent was to play video games. Saitama waved his hand back at him. “Just put it in the fridge for me or leave it at the table.” he said as he ran.

Genos watched him run off. He felt proud that his master was going after pressing matters. It was only fair for him to do the errands when he had nothing else to do as Saitama went off to do “more important” things. He jogged his way over there to train his robotic body. Flying there with his blasters seemed like a waste of energy to his core.

Miyu entered the noodle shop and quickly went into the bathroom to change into her uniform. She placed her damp clothes into a plastic as she wringed her hair with her hands. Exiting the bathroom, she casted her luggage aside and began her shift as she took orders and gave out the food.

Not long since her shift had started, Genos had entered and sat down. This time, he didn’t sit by the luggage. He took notice that Miyu was focused and waited for his turn.

Soon after, she had arrived at his table. “Hey! What can I get you?” she asked as she avoided eye contact, knowing she had ignored him earlier.

“I’ll do the challenge again like yesterday and get some yaki udon to go.” he asked.

She gave an awkward gritted smile. “Right away.” she assured as she headed to the kitchen to give the order. Peering out from the kitchen’s doorway, she saw that there weren't anymore people coming in that hour. She helped out in the kitchen to cook the food.

Genos watched her from the kitchen’s window. He wondered if she wanted her stuff back or if there was a specific amount of time he had to borrow it. His sensors detected a few more people standing at the doorway. He listened carefully and noticed them pointing at Miyu’s luggage. Knowing Miyu was still cooking, he got up and just brought it to his table instead. Looking back, the others went away as they realized he noticed their intentions.

After a few minutes, Miyu came out with his food and reward money. “He--.”

He pushed the money back to her. “No, take it. I have a request and something to ask.”

Unsure of what he had to say to her, she jumped to conclusions and apologized, “I’m sorry for not waving back at you earlier. I was in a hurry.”

‘Why’s she apologizing about that?’ he thought to himself. He shook his head and looked her in the eyes firmly. “I want you to be my teacher too.”

She looked to his side and noticed her luggage was next to him rather than the other table. ‘.. Is manga that big of a passion for him?’ she wondered.

He noticed her eye’s attention on the luggage. “There were some people outside that wanted to steal it.”

A bit shocked, she felt touched that he decided to watch over her stuff. “Thank you, Genos.” She looked behind him to see if there was anybody coming in. Letting out a long sigh, she sat down and placed the money into her luggage. “What do you mean by teacher.?”

“You seem to know a lot about things that could be interpreted.” he said. “If I had known I was going to be here so early, I’d have brought a pen and journal.”

Miyu had a puzzled look on her face and fanned her hand at him. “I’m sorry, but to write things down?” she shook her head in disbelief. “If you’re gonna learn about these things, take it to the heart and mind. I think the only things that are worth writing about from these would probably be quotes or ideas for things you may wanna do for later. Think of it like inspiration”

“Miyu! Do you not see any customers coming in right now?” her boss asked.

“No, sir!” she responded.

“They all must be watching Sweet Mask’s sitcom that just aired. “ he commented.

She shrugged and replied, “I wouldn’t know.” As she rummaged through her luggage, she pulled out another manga and gave it to Genos. “Personally, I’d prefer you coming in when we’re about to close, but since we’re not as busy today, this is an exception. This is ‘Pink Innocent.’ It might be more girly though.”

“What about the others I borrowed?” he asked.

“Return them to me when you can. You said it yourself that you come here often. Just don’t go spilling soup all over it.” she growled at him.

He quickly consumed the food to begin reading. However, before he got the chance to, he received a from the Hero Association for a meeting. “Miyu, I’ll be back later to learn.” he gestured his hand at her luggage. “Do you need this to be watched?”

Miyu raised a brow but also felt guilty. “You really don’t need to..”

“I’m coming back later anyways. Besides, it’s something that shouldn’t be laying around where it could get stolen.”

She hesitantly nodded because he had a point. “Alright..”

From that day on, after doing his routine with Saitama, he headed to the udon shop to pick up her luggage and later returned it to her for a manga session after hours. The two became acquainted with each other to an extent and Genos shared how he became a cyborg. It was rather intriguing, but it made her concerned.

As Miyu cleaned the tables and moved the chairs around, she heard footsteps. She looked up at the door. “Hi, Genos.” she welcomed him with a smile.

“Hello.” he greeted back as he took a seat at one of the tables.

After finishing the rest of the tables, chairs, and kitchen, she sat down across from him. “Let’s read.” she said happily.

14 notes · View notes

jenonctcity · 5 years

Text

Chances - Part 2

[10:00am]

Ex-Husband!Jaemin / Husband!Renjun Part 2

This is a part 2 to a previous au I wrote. You can find part one here: Part 1

Word Count: 1.1k

Request: Renjun getting the baby he wanted. Him and Jaemin finding mutual peace and comfort with each other.

The soft cries of the new-born baby boy that had previously been sound asleep in his arms distracted Renjun from the sound of knuckles rapping against the front door. He let out a stressed sigh, running a hand through his hair as he pushed himself up from the couch with the squirming baby in his arms.

“Shhh shh you’re gonna wake up mummy.” He whispered as he cuddled the tiny boy, gently rocking him as he made his way through your home to the front door. “Mihyun you need to step back sweetheart or you’ll get hit by the door.” He spoke gently to the eagerly awaiting girl stood in front of the door. She bounced on her tiptoes, taking a few steps back so that Renjun could crack the door open. About half an hour previously, Renjun had forced you to have a nap, not being able to stand seeing you yawn anymore than he already had. Having a 4-year-old and a newborn baby was taking it’s toll on you, and you found yourself tired more often than not. You couldn’t thank Renjun enough that he had offered to watch little Bolin, and sort Mihyun out for when Jaemin comes to pick her up and had taken up his offer as quick as you could.

“Why is she crying?” Mihyun questioned as she bent her neck up to stare at her little brother, tilting her head in curiosity.

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, opening the door up wide and smiling softly at Jaemin. “Hey Jaemin, come in.” He stepped out of the way to let the wide eyed man in.

“Hi Renjun, wow congratulations! (Y/N) hadn’t said that she’d given birth.” He reached down and scooped his little princess into his arms, kissing her on the cheek gently.

“Thank you. She only had him two days ago so its been a big crazy here.” He swayed the baby in his arms, his little shrieks not calming down, making him let out another sigh.

“Mind if I come in for a bit? I’d love to see him properly.” Jaemin asked, slightly hesitant that he would be rejected, but he wanted to make the effort to show he was supportive of his ex-wifes new adventure in life. Renjun nodded quickly.

“Yeah of course, come in.” Jaemin lowered Mihyun to the floor, taking off his shoes before following Renjun into the living room.

“What’s his name?”

“Bolin! It’s Chinese!” Mihyun grinned up at her dad, clearly really proud of having a little brother. Jaemin chuckled, rubbing the back of her head affectionately as he took as seat on the couch. “He cries a lot and earlier he smelt like poop…but I love him! He’s so cute!” She climbed up on the couch beside Jaemin, Renjun on his other side, still rocking the baby as he continued to fuss.

“That’s nice.” He smiled as Mihyun started to climb across his lap trying to get a better look at her tiny brother. “Where’s (Y/N)? Is she okay?” He noticed your absence, looking at Renjun with concern in his eyes.

“She’s just having a nap, she’s all good and the birth went really well. But she’s really drained so I’ve made her get some rest.” Bolin had completely stopped crying, staring up at his father with half closed eyes, not being able to open them fully wide yet. Renjun’s face visibly lit up at seeing his son. Jaemin watched the two of them with a soft smile on his face before commenting.

“It’s the best feeling in the world isn’t it?” Renjun looked over at Jaemin, for once not even thinking about making any competition with the man who used to hold his wife’s heart.

“Yeah…I still can’t wrap my head around it…” He whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his son’s head. “Do you wanna hold him?” Renjun asked, already getting ready to pass over the peacefully sleeping baby. Jaemin nodded and gently scooped Bolin out of his fathers’ arms. He cradled him and cooed at him, moving his free hand to rub over the tiny black hairs scattered over the top of his head. “He’s got more hair than Mihyun did.” He laughed, glancing over at the quiet girl. “She was completely bald.”

“I’ve seen the pictures.” He chuckled, also glancing at Mihyun, she smiled at her step-dad and climbed off the sofa. “She makes up for it now though, I’m constantly finding her hairs everywhere.” With a roll of his eyes he pulls Mihyun onto his lap before running his hand through her long dark hair. “Just like her mother!”

“Yeah tell me about it.” Jaemin let out a laugh. “I always have to unclog the shower drain after I’ve had Mihyun over, I don’t know how female’s hair gets everywhere so quickly!” You stood in the doorway with your arms folded across your chest, neither men having noticed your presence yet. A warm smile sat on your face as you watched the two talk about you and the miniature version of you.

“Daddy…where will Bolin sleep tonight? There isn’t enough room at your home, and I don’t want to share my bed with him!” Mihyun looked at Jaemin with her innocent eyes, not noticing how all the adults tensed up. Jaemin and Renjun looked between each other, Renjun’s mouth opening and then closing as he tried to form words. You huffed a sigh, walking into the room and sitting beside your husband and daughter, her still situated on his lap as Jaemin held Bolin.

“Honey he’s not going to be coming with you and daddy.”

“Why?” She tilted her head, obviously not understanding that her and her baby brother have different dads.

“Because your daddy isn’t Bolin’s daddy, Renjun is his daddy so he’s going to stay here with the two of us.” You all paused as she furrowed her eyebrows, the thought ticking over inside her head before she nodded.

“Okay!” She smiled widely, hopping off of Renjun’s knees and standing in front Jaemin. “You have to give him back before we leave because he isn’t yours and that will be stealing. Stealing is bad daddy.” She sternly told her father, his face breaking out into a big grin as he tried not to laugh in her face.

“Yes pumpkin.” He glanced over at you and smiled. “You’ve produced another beautiful child (Y/N).” He was proud of you, over the moon for you and Renjun even if it left a slightly bitter taste in his mouth that you’ve had another child that wasn’t his own.

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Part 3 Part 4

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darlinvandijk · 5 years

Text

Phone Call

Concept: a request where you’re really missing Ruel and really sad/not doing well and he calls and just comforts you and makes it all cute (aka just really fluffy Ruel because hes an angel and we all know it). just like usual send me a dm for a request and whatnot and I’ll be happy to comply (btw this is long as fuck so I apologize) Hope you enjoy :)

Today marks 3 months since the last time I saw Ruel, or at least the last time I saw him in person. He’s on his world tour, but I wasn’t able to go with him like planned, since I had too much school work that I’d need to do, and knowing us we’d never make time for me to actually do it if I went.

So that’s where everything has led up to me at this exact moment, where I’m justsitting in my room after a long day of just everything going wrong, like call me dramatic but today has literally been the absolute worst. I got a D on my sociology test, dropped my tea getting out of the car this morning, got sharpie on the sleeve of my favorite white hoodie, and worst of all just missing my favorite boy more than ever today.

I pull my blankets tighter around my body, trying my hardest to not let my emotions get to me, because I know today wasn’t as bad as it seemed, I’m just a little touchy today making everything seem worse than usual. I let out a choked sob as I feel the tears start to make their way down my face, knowing that there’s no way to get out of the complete mess I’m about to become.

Right as I breakdown, I hear the ping of my phone, alerting me that I got a text. Guess who it is, oh wait we all know it’s the giant oaf I call my boyfriend.

Hey baby, I miss you a lot and thought I’d let you know Hi bubs, I miss you too, what’re you up to? In my hotel room, finished everything I needed for the day so all I have left is soundcheck and the concert tmw Excited for the Paris show? Mhmm, enough about me, I want to talk about you Eh nothing exciting, pretty boring day today. Are you okay love? You seem a little off I’m okay, just tired that’s all

As soon as I send that text, my screen lights up with an incoming phone call. I give myself a few seconds, trying to contain the sobs and tears so that Ruel doesn’t notice, he doesn’t need the extra stress of worrying about me. As soon as I pick up, he’s already talking and throwing questions at me.

“Baby what’s going on? I know you’re lying to me, just because I can’t see you, doesn’t mean I can’t tell. Are you okay? Did something happen? Do I need to fly down or fly you out here? Baby-“ Ruel rambles with anxiety lacing his voice, causing the tears I was holding at bay, to be released. I let out a small whimper as the tears pour out, instantly causing him to stop talking and cut off his sentence.

“I’m sorry, I’m honestly okay, just a little emotional today” I mumble out, not able to talk loud with my voice shaking so much. I hear him let out a sigh before he starts talking.

“Babygirl, tell me the truth. I know it’s more than just that, please talk to me baby. I can’t help you if you don’t let me.” He pleads, knowing that I’m never like this, even if I am emotional sometimes.

“I just really miss you, it’s been three months, and today was just horrible. Nothing went right for me Ruel. I basically failed my soc test, dropped my drink everywhere this morning, and then I got fucking sharpie on your white hoodie. You know it’s my favorite” I cry out, finally letting all my emotions out, knowing he’s the only one that’ll truly be able to talk me down from my breakdown.

“Baby, you can retake the test, one test won’t ruin your life, you’re too smart to let something like that fuck you up. I’ll send you money to get a new drink tomorrow if that helps, and babe it’s just a hoodie. I’ll buy you 50 more of that exact hoodie if it’ll make you happy.” He states, trying to reason with me to make me feel better. I let out a whimper, because none of those things are going to make me happy. I just want my boyfriend back.

“I don’t want any of those things ruel!” I sob, causing him to take in a deep breath, finally realizing what the source of the issue was. He gives me a few seconds to calm my breathing before asking me a question.

“Then what do you want princess? Name it and I’ll make it happen, I promise.” He states with so much conviction in his voice, that I almost believe it.

“I want you. I want you back home with me. I don’t want more hoodies because I want yours, I want the ones that smell like you and have all the tears and stains because you always seem to trip or spill something on them. I just want you.” I whisper out, feeling completely broken for the first time when it comes to having a part time long distance relationship.

I hear him let out a sound of distress before the call hangs up. I stare at my phone in shock, not able to comprehend that he just hung up on me. Before I can lose it, I get an incoming FaceTime call. I answer it while pulling the blankets over me so that he can barely see me, as I set my phone up against my side table, so that I don’t have to hold it while talking to him.

Ruel sits there, with his phone in a similar position, letting him just lean back and watch me. I see the slight crease between his eyebrows, letting me know he’s stressed out because of this.

“Hi baby, I wanted to see that pretty face of yours, but I can only do that if you move the blankets.” He says with a small smile on his face, causing me to rapidly shake my head, really not wanting him to see me like this.

“I look ugly. My eyes are probably puffy and my face is splotchy from crying. Like I’m literally still crying, so I don’t want you to see me” I whisper back, feeling completely insecure, even though he has seen me cry countless times over the length of our 2 year relationship.

“First of all, you’re never ugly. I don’t care if you go bald and even lose your eyebrows, you’ll still be the prettiest girl in the world. Let me see that beautiful face of yours, or I might just lose my mind” He says, trying to joke with me to make me feel better. I let out a quiet laugh at how dramatic he’s being, causing him to instantly breakout in a grin, knowing he’s finally reaching me.

I pull down the blankets from around my head, causing him to just watch me, with a look of awe on his face. He looks at my slightly puffy and red rimmed eyes, my hair that’s in a messy falling apart bun, and the red splotches around my face from crying so much. He also takes in the tear streaks that are going down my face, still managing to think that I’m the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid his eyes on.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous” He says with a lovestruck grin on his face. I immediately roll my eyes and try to cover my face, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my face turns red from his compliments.

“Shut up Rueloff, you’re just saying that to make me feel better” I retort, making him lean back with a hand over his heart like I shot him.

“Excuse me baby, I don’t lie. You’re fucking beautiful, like I have the hottest girlfriend in the world if I’m being blunt about it.” He laughs with a boyish smile on his face, causing me to throw my head back with a laugh. Loving the way he looks at me, with that little twinkle in his eye.

“I miss you. I really miss you, please come back” I mumble with a small sad smile taking over my face. I see him straighten up from my change in mood, before he tilts his head to the side and gives me a small loving smile.

“I’ll be back before you know it. I miss you more than anything baby, I have an idea but I’ll tell you about it soon, I just need to talk to Nate and figure some things out.” He mumbles with a smirk on his face, letting me know he’s up to something.

“Okay, I can’t wait to hear about this idea of yours” I laugh out, trying my hardest to ignore the way he’s looking at. I see his eyes shift down to the hoodie I’m wearing, since the blanket fell off my shoulders.

“Baby you can barely even see the sharpie on the sleeve, but don’t worry I got about 3 hoodies here that I’ll make sure you get, smell just like me and one of them even has some mystery stain on it” He says with a big smile causing me to snort at the fact that he’s such a mess.

“Ew bubs, you can keep the mystery stain one.” I say watching him glare at me, for laughing about his dirty hoodie. He looks me over again and just smiles. I look down and play with my fingers, not liking how intense his gaze is.

“I love you” he says, with the biggest smile on his face. I look up at him and slightly tear up again as I just stare and wonder how I got such a beautiful person to love me and all my faults.

“I love you too, more than anything.” I reply with as much love as possible, hoping he can hear and feel how much I truly feel for him. He gives me a breathtaking smile, before turning a cute shade of pink from blushing.

“Stooop you’re making me blush” he whines out, trying to give me a glare but ruining the act by laughing. I smile at him as I watch the way his eyes light up as he laughs, the way he tilts his head to laugh but watch me at the same time, the way he looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.

We talk for another hour or so before hanging up since he had to go and get food, because Nate told him no more room service. I sigh a little bit once we end the call, before realizing I’ll be okay, a little distance for a bit won’t hurt us.

Two weeks pass by before I get a phone call from Ruel, I stare at the screen with a perplexed look, considering we just got off the phone an hour ago. We talk every single day, but he’s never called me before without sending a text first to make sure I’m not doing anything, I start to get nervous thinking it’s an emergency.

“Hello? Ruel are you okay?” I instantly spew out with anxiety lacing my time before he can even get a word in. I hear him start laughing on the other end of the receiver before hearing Nate yell at him to hurry up.

“Haha babygirl, calm down. I’m okay and I’m not hurt. I can finally tell you the idea I had, well not an idea anymore since I made it reality.” He says, I can literally hear the smirk in his voice, instantly causing me to roll my eyes at his cocky tone.

“Okay Rueloff, what’s this amazing plan that you have?” I sassily reply. I hear him start snickering, causing me to become weary since Ruel only has that laugh when he’s about to do something crazy.

“Ohhh babygirl I don’t think you’re ready, are you ready? Like really ready? Like positively ready? I don’t think you are” he basically sings out, with pure excitement filling his voice. I feel myself getting filled with anticipation on what my crackhead boyfriend is about to do. Before I can even reply to him to shut up and tell me, my phone gets an alert.

“Look at the text” He basically screeches out, causing my to fumble and put him on speaker so I can still hear him as I check the message. What I see leaves me shell shocked, I was expecting a new collab with an artist I love, not him to completely go all out.

“Oh my god Ruel what” I choke out with tears pouring down my face, a few sobs coming out from the overwhelming emotions I have running through me.

“That’s your boarding pass for tomorrow, see you in Norway baby” He shouts, his voice wavering, letting me know this gap of not seeing each other and finally getting to reunite is affecting him as much as it’s affecting me.

That’s how a little over 24 hours later, I end up falling asleep in the arms of my beautiful boyfriend. Listening to his quiet breaths as he holds me as tight as he can. Feeling his soft skin and taking in the moment, the moment where I truly got to feel whole again. I finally drift off, hearing the quiet “I love you” and feeling the soft kiss to my temple, letting me know I’m back where I’m supposed to be, with my soulmate.

#ruelvincentvandijk #ruel van dijk #one ruel #ruel #ruel one shot #ruel imagines #ruel imagine #imagine #imagines #one shot #x reader #free time ep #ruel fanfic

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