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hollybell51 · 1 year

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ok i know you said requests are backlogged but i also read your sam winchester fic (oh my god???? so good!!!!!) and i noticed that you put dean on your tag list form and i am literally in love with him so if you get time could you do like a hurt/confort fic for him where the reader gets like seriously injured and tells him she loves him because she thinks she's dying and doesn't wanna die without saying it?

Anon you are in luck, the supernatural brainrot is still going strong. Also if you wanna be tagged in stuff make sure you submit responses to that form otherwise I don't know what usernames to put xx

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Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 5.8K

Summary: hunting a ghost that only seems to attack young women, you volunteer yourself as bait. The plan doesn't exactly go to plan, leading to some confessions being made.

Content: ANGST. Angst, besties. Hurt/comfort, mainly hurt but there is some comfort there, whump (sorta), mostly Dean's perspective but still second person narrative voice (loml), probably bad characterisation but I think it's passable???? Sam is like the no. 1 Dean/you shipper, A+ wingman. Badly written emotional vulnerability but I tried I promise. Kissing, first kisses, "I love you"s, bit of blood but not too explicit, hospitals, etc. etc. Dean is a warning on his own but yknow what I love him. I may have missed some stuff so please don't hesitate to catch me on it!

Notes: ft. my freaking awful titles lmaoooo. This isn't really set during any actual episode, but I'm sorta working off only having watched the first two seasons so just assume it takes place somewhere around then. Also the more I watch this the more I just wanna grab him and put him in my pocket or something, it's so bizarre. He's so pretty. I love his cockiness, I love the little eyebrow thing he does, I love the little jaw thing he does. Sorry if I messed up any lore or anything, writing this was a fever dream but tbh I had fun, it's nice to just sorta write you know? Thanks for the suggestion Anon

“Guys, can you hurry up?”

Dean glanced over his shoulder, frantically sprinkling fuel over the exposed corpse below. He couldn’t see all that much in the darkness, but it didn’t exactly look like you had the upper hand. None of them had realised how big the ghost was until now, and with the machete it was currently slashing at you…

“Almost there!” Sam shouted, striking a match and casting it into the grave. The remains went up with a “whoomp!”, the ghost howled and stumbled back. It was difficult to really know what happened in those few moments as the light from the burning remains glinted off the metal of the machete and the ghost shimmered and began to disappear, but what was clear was that something had happened to you.

“Fuck,” you groaned, dropping your own weapon with a dull thud. You staggered, catching yourself on a headstone before your knees gave out and you sank to the ground. You were hunched over awkwardly, your shoulders heaving, hands clutched tight to your stomach.

“(Y/N)?” Dean asked, frowning. Were you hurt? Just out of breath?

“I’m alright,” you called. “Just… give me a second.”

“Shit,” Sam muttered, dropping the salt and packet of matches and running towards you. “Dean!” he yelled as he knelt down, stripping off his jacket and balling it up, pressing it to your stomach.

No, Dean thought. No, no, no, no. He was frozen, the can of fuel dangling limply from his fingers. He’d known using you as bait for a psychotic ghost murderer was a bad idea, even when you’d insisted that you’d be fine. It wasn't that he didn’t think you could handle it – he’d seen you in action enough times to know you were a force to be reckoned with – but he’d had a horrible feeling something was going to go wrong from the moment you’d laid out your plan.

“He goes after girls, right?” You’d had an uncomfortable light in your eyes, all steely determination that Dean simultaneously loved and hated. Loved because, well, it was so you and it meant you were getting shit done, hated because more often than not you were putting yourself in danger. And yes, he was aware of the hypocrisy.

He’d tried to talk you out of it, Sam had too. But once your mind was set – and set it was – no amount of convincing on anyone’s part could do anything about it. The second the idea had begun to form in your brain, the path was laid and there was no point trying to change that.

“You better get over here man, quick!” Sam’s voice dropped, but wasn’t quiet enough that Dean couldn’t hear his next words, addressed to you. “Just hold on, Dean’s coming. Keep breathing, ok?”

Fuck, that didn’t sound good. Dean’s limbs jerked back to life. He didn’t waste another second, sprinting the few metres through the forest of tombstones to where his brother was bent over you.

“Don’t just stand there!” Sam yelled, one hand pressing his jacket to your stomach. “Help me!”

It was like his body was moving on autopilot, kneeling beside you and taking over from Sam without any input from Dean himself. Dully, he noticed that there was already a warm, damp patch on the jacket, as well as a dark spot glistening darkly over your side. Shit.

“I’ll be fine,” you’d insisted when he'd raised his doubts. “I’ve got you guys. You just burn the bones fast, I reckon I can hold him off for a few minutes.” Then you’d shrugged, grinning. “And if it all goes to hell, I know you’ve got my back.”

Yeah, fat lot of help they’d been.

“What happened?” he asked.

“He got me on his way out,” you laughed bitterly. “Can you believe that? Halfway gone and he just–” You broke off, making a vague slashing gesture with your free hand. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“No, no you did fine. We shoulda been quicker.” Dean assured you, pressing harder. “Sorry,” he muttered as you let out a pained whimper.

“‘Salright,” you grimaced. “My fault. Dean, I gotta–”

“Shh, no, it’s fine. It’s ok, you’ll be ok.”

You shook your head, tears mixing with the sweat on your face. He watched one trace a path through the dirt caked on your skin. “It’s important, please.”

He shook his head. “The only thing that’s important right now is keeping your eyes open, yeah? Just… just do that.”

“I’m calling 911,” Sam said. “Just stay there, don’t move.”

“I’m not planning on taking off, don’t worry.” You smiled tightly, then your face twisted in what Dean thought was fear, panic even. It was like a punch to his stomach, he hadn’t seen you look that scared since… Well, ever. Your hand fumbled over his, trying to find something to grab.

“It’s alright,” he told you, pressing on the jacked one-handed as the fingers of the other one twined with your own. “It’s alright, (Y/N).”

“No, no Dean, you have to burn me. Make sure you salt me, uh… Sage, use sage too.”

He felt the blood drain from his face, cold rushing through him. “What?”

“Please,” you begged, your voice breaking. “I don’t wanna hurt anyone. You have to get rid of me, ok?”

Oh God. Oh God. Dean looked up, searching frantically for Sam. He was watching you while he talked to the emergency operator, his fist pressed against his mouth and his hand shaking where he held the phone. He met Dean’s eyes, shaking his head.

“You’re not gonna hurt anyone because you’re not going anywhere.” Dean’s voice was blessedly steady, despite the uncomfortable lump in his throat.

“Promise me,” you whispered, then shouted when he didn’t respond. “Promise me, Dean!”

He gripped your hand tighter, your own fingers digging harshly into his flesh. “I promise you will be ok,” he said.

You sobbed, your body heaving under the rapidly dampening jacket. That was way too much blood for Dean’s liking, and judging by the increasing urgency of Sam’s quiet conversation on the phone, he felt the same.

Your panicked gaze locked on Dean’s face, tears coursing down your cheeks. “I don’t wanna go,” you choked. “I didn’t tell you. I can’t go.”

Didn’t tell him what? It didn’t matter. He squeezed your hand in what he hoped was a more reassuring than painful way. “It’s ok, you’re not going anywhere, alright? You’re staying right here, I’ve got you.”

“You’ve gotta listen to me, Dean–”

“No, tell me later. Just hold on, save your energy.”

“Dean–”

“(Y/N) hold on!”

“Dean!”

“Dean, listen to her.” Sam had finished on the phone, the screen shining eerily on his face. At Dean’s raised eyebrow he gave a tiny nod. Yeah, there was an ambulance on the way.

“Sam, she is not gonna die.” He shook his head, turning back to you. “We’ve got all the time in the world, ok sweetheart?” He searched frantically for something to say, anything to keep your attention. He was no doctor, but he knew it would be bad if you passed out. Very bad.

“Uh… fuck.” He broke off, floundering. What would keep you awake? What could he possibly say after you’d just made him promise to get rid of your spirit once you were dead, which was not going to happen.

“It’s actually not a bad night,” he started, already kicking himself mentally. “Bit of a breeze. I guess it’s sheltered down there, you’ve got a nice, uh, headstone blocking it. Ground’s not too bad either, not too hard. Glad it’s not gravel, my knees’re killing me.”

A watery laugh clawed its way from you before another sob wracked your body. “Dean, I gotta tell you…”

“Can you see the stars from down there?” he asked, cutting you off. “I bet they’re bright out here. No light pollution.” He grabbed your hand as your fingers loosened their grip, dread settling like a stone in his stomach.

Your eyes wandered away from his face, sweeping over the space behind him. You nodded, but the haziness that had slid over your face didn’t do anything to help Dean’s panic, especially now that you weren’t holding his hand nearly as tightly as you had been.

“Wait,” he said, squeezing your fingers. “Just focus on me, keep looking at me.”

Your eyes swung back to his. “Please,” you whispered. “Please Dean, listen to me”

Sam’s hand settled on his shoulder, large and heavy. He nodded to your face when Dean glanced at him, and to his horror he realised there were specks of blood on your lips.

He swallowed hard. He hadn’t realised, but this was probably one of the worst moments of his life. He’d entirely ignored even the possibility of you being injured, let alone dying – just thinking the word felt wrong – since you’d joined him and Sam, doggedly refusing to acknowledge the near physical ache the idea of your absence caused. Now it was happening, right in front of him. Heat prickled behind his eyes.

He took a deep breath, steadying his voice. “Yeah, alright sweetheart. You tell me, I’m listening.”

Relief washed over your face. “I wanted to say it,” you whispered, “before. I didn’t want it like this.”

“It’s ok. Sh, it’s ok.”

Your body convulsed under his hand with another sob, more blood leaking from the corners of your mouth. “I love you,” you choked. “I love you so much. I don’t wanna get stuck because I never told you.”

Oh. Oh. Dean’s mind went blank, then crashed right back into his skull. It was like swinging on a swing, at the peak of the arc where you floated a little before you started going down again. Yeah, that was his brain in that moment. Of course you’d have the guts to say it when he didn’t, even if it was out of fear of becoming an angry ghost. He cursed the universe and its cruel sense of humour. He faced horrors beyond most people’s imaginations almost every day, but still couldn’t say three simple words when he wanted to more than anything, and now you’d taken the first step for him and it was because you thought you were about to die. Someone up there must have hated his guts.

“I know,” he said finally, nodding. “I know you do. Hold on, ok? There’s an ambulance, it’s gonna get here any minute” It wasn’t what he wanted to tell you, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t make his mouth cooperate.

You smiled, your grip on his hand all but nonexistent now. Your breathing was getting shallower by the second, your eyes unfocussed and no longer trained on his face. It was like now that you’d said your piece, you weren’t even trying to stay awake. He didn’t like to be too dramatic, but he was almost convinced that he was the one who’d been stabbed, not you.

“No,” he whispered. “No, (Y/N), not you. Please, not you.”

A wailing siren sounded in the distance, blue and red lights flashing rapidly brighter as the ambulance drew closer.

“Just a few more minutes,” Sam said, pacing. His eyes never left your face. “Come on, (Y/N), any second now.”

You were perfectly still, too still. Dean leant over, careful to keep applying pressure to your stomach as he listened for breath. The faintest hint of it brushed his cheek, not enough. He blinked hard, holding you against his chest, his face pressed into your hair. It still smelled like the cheap shampoo from the most recent motel, mixed with blood and dirt and sweat. It should have been disgusting, but to Dean it smelled so right. He wondered what that said about his lifestyle choices.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice choked. “(Y/N)...”

Your hand slipped from his, and it was like a damn breaking. He felt his shoulders jerk, something between a sob and a grunt torn from him.

“I love you too,” he whispered, clinging so tightly to you he was half scared he was going to hurt you. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, (Y/N), I love you.”

The siren was deafening as the ambulance skidded to a stop, Sam waving frantically to the paramedics swarming the graveyard. Someone pulled Dean back despite his protests. Cold stung his cheeks, the breeze from earlier having turned into a wind. It vaguely occurred to him that the reason it was so cold on his face was because he was crying.

Everything was a blur as you were engulfed by uniformed paramedics, your limp form lifted onto a stretcher and born away into the vehicle. Someone tried to talk to him before Sam, uncannily put together and coherent, spoke to them and explained. There was a lot of nodding and “thankyou”s, then Dean was being loaded into the Impala like a little kid and Sam was driving like you were in the back seat instead of in the ambulance.

All he was aware of at the hospital was Sam’s hand gripping his arm, muttering that he needed to pull it together “for her, man.” The harsh, clinical lights and the rush that everyone seemed to be in wasn’t helping Dean’s panic, every prone body he glimpsed taking on your face until he blinked and it was a complete stranger. What if the unthinkable really happened? What if you died, and he hadn’t been able to save you, keep you safe like you’d been so sure he would? What if you really did linger as a tormented spirit, what if he and Sam had to hunt you, get rid of you like you’d said? He didn’t know if he’d be able to do that.

Finally, a serious looking man with a clipboard and a badge approached them. “Are you with the young woman–” he glanced at the clipboard, “(Y/N), who just came in?”

“Yes,” Sam said quickly. “Yeah, how is she? Is she alright?”

“She’s damn lucky someone put as much pressure as they did on that cut,” he sighed. “She’s lost a lot of blood, but she’s stable.”

Dean let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide their shaking.

“Thankyou,” Sam smiled. “Thank you, doctor. When can we see her?”

He frowned at the clipboard again, tapping his fingers on the plastic. “Well she’s unconscious, I daresay she will be for a while yet.”

“Please,” Dean interrupted. “I– we just need to see her.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “You boys family?”

“Brothers,” Sam lied at the same time as Dean said “husband.”

“I’m her husband,” he went on, ignoring the little flip his stomach did. Somehow, the familiar lie felt different now that he’d told you how he felt, even if you hadn’t heard. “He’s my brother in law.”

“Ok,” he shrugged, “but she won’t… Well, she was stabbed. There’s a lot of tubes, bandages, and she’s out cold. It might be…” He stopped, sighing. “Some people find it confronting, seeing their loved ones like this.”

Dean felt Sam glance at him, but he ignored it. “Trust me,” he said with a tight smile, “I’ve seen worse.”

He had not, as it turned out, seen worse. You were completely still apart from the gentle rise and fall of your chest, a thin cotton blanket pulled up and tucked in with clinical precision around your ribs. You had a little cut on your forehead that Dean hadn’t noticed at the graveyard. A drip trailed from the back of your hand to a cluster of bags suspended above you, a thin plastic tube wrapped around your head just under your nose. Oxygen, he assumed. If he ignored all that, you could have been sleeping.

Sam pushed the door open softly, as if he was afraid he’d wake you up. Dean hesitated a moment, then followed him inside. Up close, he could see the light sheen of sweat on your forehead, the darkness under your eyes, the pallor of your lips and cheeks. He reached out to touch you, maybe lay his hand on your forehead or smooth your hair away from your face, but drew his hand back at the last moment. He didn’t want to somehow unbalance you from whatever tightrope you were walking right now, even though he knew that was illogical. Still, even breathing the same air felt somehow dangerous for you.

“Did she tell you?” he asked Sam eventually.

“That she loves you?” He didn’t give Dean a chance to explain that he hadn’t meant that, that he’d been talking about your fear of not-quite-death. “She never said it outright, but I sort of worked it out, y’know? You guys weren’t really that subtle.”

Dean frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just…” He shrugged, gesturing vaguely between your prone form and Dean. “You’re always looking at her, when you think she can’t see you. She does the same. Always just sorta… doing little things for each other. And you’re always touching her, I don’t know if you realised.”

“Huh. I didn’t.” It was true, although it didn’t really surprise him. He liked the little smile you gave him whenever he picked something up from a store for you – a favourite candy, something you’d mentioned you felt like – and he’d just assumed when you did similar things for him it was because you were, well, you. But now that he thought about it, he couldn’t name half as many times when you’d taken the same care and effort for Sam. Not that you’d neglected his brother, it was just… slightly less personal, less specially catered. He felt a surge of warmth for you, then a pang as his eyes landed again on your too-pale face.

As for touching you, well, he wanted to. All the time. He wanted to put his hand on your shoulder, wrap his arms around your waist, hold you close and feel your heartbeat against his. Every brief half-hug or brush of your skin against his was something precious to him, so of course he’d want more. His mind flashed back to the tightness of your hand in his at the graveyard, the warm slick of your blood as you’d clung to him. Even that had been almost euphoric, past the raw terror and sickening dread. He was going to hold you like that again – under better circumstances – if it killed him.

“Yeah,” Sam went on. “She’s the same, actually.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I remember this one time, Illinois, I think. We got a motel room with the longest couch you've ever seen. You sat down in the corner, and she comes and sits right next to you! When she’s got, like, another two metres of space to choose from.”

Dean did remember that, actually. He remembered the rush he’d gotten as you’d squished up against his side, complaining that you were cold even though your skin had been warm to the touch. He still thought about it, sometimes. “Huh,” he said again.

“Yeah.” It was silent apart from the beeping of your monitor and the normal hospital sounds outside the room, then Sam turned and faced him. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Dean shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have let her put herself out there like that in the first place.”

“No, I was supposed to have her back. I shouldn’t have taken so long with the salt.”

He wasn’t wrong, Dean knew that, but it had been him who’d agreed to your plan. You’d put your faith in him just as much as you had in Sam, and he’d let you down. He hadn’t liked the whole thing from the start, but still he’d gone ahead with it. And now here you were, lying unconscious in a hospital bed, and Sam was beating himself up about it. It was all so wrong, and Dean could have stopped it so easily. But as he looked at you, he swore he could hear you snorting derisively at him, crossing your arms with a firm “bullshit!”

“It’s my choice,” you’d say. “You’re really gonna try to steal my credit?”

“She’d call bullshit on you, you know,” he said.

His brother shrugged, nodding. “Yeah, you too probably. She’d poke you, right here.” He reached around and stuck his finger firmly in the middle of Dean’s chest, right where you’d done countless times.

Despite himself, Dean smiled. Then your drip beeped and he was jerked painfully back to the present, and the problem at hand.

“Did you know she was so scared?” he asked. “Of, y’know…” Dying. Haunting someone. Getting stuck here, not being able to move on.

Sam didn’t answer for a moment, then he sighed, still looking at you. “She mentioned it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Why didn’t she tell me?

“She didn’t want me to. She thought you’d think… I don’t know, that she wouldn’t be able to do the job. She really didn’t want you to know she was scared, she was so worried about what you thought of her. She said you were…” He swallowed, cleared his throat, continued. “She said you were never scared, and she didn’t want you to think she was. Even when I told her we were all terrified.”

“Damn right,” Dean muttered. You’d done a great job at putting on such a brave front, he’d sometimes wondered if there was actually something wrong with you. Or maybe not wrong, but different. He’d never known anyone who could handle the things they did so well, not even his dad. It was something of a relief to know that there was more to it.

“She was convinced she’d be the type of person to get stuck,” he continued. “Kept saying she wouldn’t be able to move on, that she had too much that she was holding onto and she didn’t know how to let go.” He finally raised his head, looking at Dean with what he thought was pity. Any other time, that would have annoyed him.

“That’s why she said it,” he muttered, the uncomfortable lump back in his throat. When you woke up, he was going to give you a serious talk about timing.

Sam nodded.

“And she didn’t–” His voice broke, and he turned away. He wanted to punch something, put his fist through the wall or slam his hand down on the table, but he was too scared it would somehow disturb you. “I didn’t say it back.”

“Woah, hey.” Sam’s hand was firm on his shoulder, steadying him. “You did, man. You did.”

“I was too late! She was out!”

“Yeah, and you can tell her again when she wakes up.”

“What if–”

“No.” Sam shook his head firmly, fingers digging into Dean’s shoulder, anchoring him to the spot. “She’s waking up, and when she does you’re gonna ask her out on a proper date, she’s gonna say yes, and you’re gonna sort yourselves out like adults. Ok?”

Dean looked away. The prospect of asking you out suddenly felt enormous. Of course he’d taken girls on dates before, he knew what he was doing, but that had been more along the lines of “I think you’re cute and you’re clearly into me, let’s get dinner and then we can hook up.” He’d never faced “I’ve been pining over you for months and I was too scared to do anything about it but you almost died and told me you loved me – love, not like – and I have no idea where this is gonna go but Sam’s right and asking you out is probably the best next step even if it’s absolutely terrifying”. He was a total mess, and he knew it.

“Ok?” Sam asked again, insistent.

“Ok,” he agreed. “Ok.”

“Good.”

You didn’t wake up until a day later. Well, that was according to the time and date displayed on the clock opposite your bed. Dean didn’t really have any recollection of time actually passing.

He was slumped in the chair beside your bed, your hand held gently in his own as he dozed. He hadn’t let himself fully sleep since you’d been brought in, too afraid that something would happen while he was out, despite all Sam’s urging. Eventually he’d just sent his brother back to the motel, assuring him that he’d be fine on his own and that he wanted to be there for you when you came around.

He jerked out of his half-nap when your fingers twitched, cursing when his pain stabbed through his neck. Snoozing in hospital chairs was never a good idea.

“Fuck,” you groaned, frowning at the ceiling.

Dean cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. “(Y/N)?”

You turned, your face clearing when you saw him. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart skip a beat. “Dean,” you whispered. “What’re you doing here?”

He shrugged, making to withdraw his hand, but your grip tightened. “I’m the ‘welcome back’ committee.”

“Oh.” You nodded, smiling softly. You ran your free hand over the bandage circling your waist, studying the IV embedded in your skin. “We got him, didn’t we?” you asked.

Right, the ghost. “Uh, yeah, he’s gone. Your plan worked,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“It was a pretty good plan,” you grinned.

He shook his head. “It almost got you killed.”

“But it worked,” you insisted, your eyes shining. “He’s gone, Dean. Who knows how many people we saved?”

“And what about you, huh?”

You shrugged. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He took a deep breath, bending his head so you wouldn’t see the moisture he was sure he could feel gathering in his eyes. How were you so casual about it? It had been your life on the line, you who’d gotten stabbed, who’d been bleeding out, terrified of not dying properly and becoming a ghost yourself.

“Hey,” you said gently, your hand slipping from his, sliding up over his arm to rest hesitantly on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“You almost died, (Y/N). Sam told me, what you said about getting stuck, being unable to move on.”

You were silent for a moment, then you sighed. “Well it’s just awkward now that I’m still here.”

Despite himself, Dean laughed. He raised his head, placing his hand over yours, rubbing his thumb in a circle over it. Your skin was warm as ever, dry to the touch. It was such a contrast from the graveyard, one he was glad of. You smiled, some of the colour already returning to your face.

“I’ve always got your back,” he said, “no matter what. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I wanted to, I really wanted to. But I just… I don’t know, I just couldn’t. Every time I tried it was like this brick wall went up in my brain.” You shrugged, drawing your hand back as you shifted to sit more upright. Dean missed its warmth instantly. “You’re always so… unfazed, you know? It felt kinda stupid.”

He snorted. Sure, Sam had already told him what you’d said, but it was different coming from you.

You folded your arms, as if you’d just won an argument. “See?”

“Shit, (Y/N),” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not – what’d you say? – unfazed. This shit gets to me too, I just…” He thought, unsure how to phrase it. “I didn’t wanna scare you,” he finally settled for. “Didn’t want you to worry.”

“Oh.” You picked at a loose thread in the blanket, biting your lip. “And the other thing?”

“Yeah, the other thing.” He’d known this was coming, he’d tried to find the words as he’d sat beside you, waiting for you to wake up. He’d almost had it, he told himself. How hard could it be, after all?

“I didn’t wanna die with, like, unfinished business. That’s the main reason people stick around. It felt like if I didn’t get it out there, I wouldn’t ever be able to… keep going. Move on.” You swallowed, not meeting his eyes. “It’s ok,” you went on, “if you don’t, y’know, feel the same. I’d understand.”

So you hadn’t heard him. Dean wasn’t surprised, but some part of him had been clinging to the hope that somehow his words had gotten through to you even as you were bundled into the back of the ambulance.

He shook his head. “I just wish you’d said something before.”

You looked up, hope chasing confusion across your face. “What?”

“I wish you’d said something before,” he repeated. “It would’ve saved us both a lotta trouble.”

“I don’t…” You frowned. “What’re you…?”

He shrugged, his heart beating a million mph. “I love you too,” he said simply.

You blinked, opening your mouth to say something, closing it again. Slowly, a smile crept across your features. “Alright,” you grinned, way too smug for Dean’s liking. “Alright then.”

“Don’t push it,” he warned, but the threat was empty and you both knew it.

You shifted again, leaning towards him. “Come here,” you said softly.

He stood, ignoring the ache in his back from the bloody uncomfortable chair.

Impatiently, you beckoned him closer.

He raised an eyebrow, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. “Do I get to kiss you?”

“That’s the goal, yeah.” You rolled your eyes, tilting your face against his hand. Dean wasn’t fond of the whole “butterflies in your stomach” thing, but he had no idea how else to describe the feeling that tiny gesture conjured. It really was like someone had released a swarm of the things inside him, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

You were watching him expectantly, almost like you were challenging him. “Go on,” your eyes seemed to be saying, “try it.”

He did. Your lips were softer than he’d expected, and just as warm as your hands. You made a sound somewhere in the realm of a sigh as his hand slid down to rest on your shoulder, pushing gently towards him, your own fingers running over his jaw to brush along the back of his neck. He couldn’t believe he’d waited this long to kiss you, and now that he’d finally taken the plunge, he never wanted to stop.

But he had to breathe, unfortunately, and so did you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” you whispered. You were still close enough that he could feel the words against his skin.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he replied.

You laughed, a soft, breathy sound, and closed the tiny gap once more. “I love you,” you murmured between kisses, “and I’m sorry it took me almost dying to say it.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that too.”

The door handle clicked, the hinges squealing. “Ok, so I ran into the doctor on the way in— woah.”

Dean stood up so fast he almost overbalanced.

Sam was standing in the doorway with a disposable coffee cup in each hand, his mouth hanging open as he stared from you to Dean and back again.

You cleared your throat. “Hi, Sam.”

He shut his mouth, shoving the cups into Dean’s hands as he crossed the room and bent to hug you with a muttered “thank God.”

“Watch it,” you warned, “I’m injured.” But your arms snaked around his back anyway, your voice muffled as you pressed your face into his neck.

“You’re never allowed to scare us like that again,” Sam said firmly.

Your eyes found Dean’s over Sam’s shoulder, and you smiled. “I’m not really planning on it, don’t worry.”

Sam just laughed. “How’re you feeling?” he asked when he finally let you go.

“Ok,” you nodded, then frowned. “Hungry.”

Sam glanced at Dean, who shrugged. He’d gotten bored some time in the morning, and the packet of pudding that had been left on your bedside table along with a bottle of water had been practically begging to be tasted. He’d wondered if you’d wake up before they brought a replacement, he’d even felt a little bad eating your food, but he was hungry, dammit, and when Sam had left he’d said he would come back “later” which meant “tonight”. And that was too long for Dean to wait. He also didn’t have any money on him, and wouldn’t have left your side for the cafeteria when the pudding was right there.

“What?” you asked.

“He ate the pudding they left you,” Sam said. Dean never should have mentioned it, but he’d been desperate to get Sam to bring him something and it had felt convincing over the phone.

Dean glared at his brother and the coffees – which were very noticeably not the fast food he’d had in mind. “You try living in that chair for a day, see how long you can go without.” Then he turned to you. “You didn’t miss much, don’t worry.”

“Well, I’m hungry!” you protested, crossing your arms and looking for all the world like a petulant toddler.

Sam’s words about asking you out echoed in his mind.

“I’ll buy you dinner,” he said. “At an actual restaurant, not a fast food place. As soon as they let you outta here, alright? In the meantime…” He reached for the bottle of water, handing it to you with an apologetic shrug. It was better than nothing.

You wrinkled your nose at him. “This is a pretty shit first date.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said. Then, on second thoughts, “It’s not a first date, Sam’s here.”

“Geez,” Sam muttered, “sorry. And after I got you a coffee too.”

“Did you get me one?” you asked hopefully.

“No,” he said slowly. “But you can have mine if you want?”

You sighed. “I don’t like it how you do. But thanks,” you added with a smile.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to be awake.”

“Have a little faith, Sam.”

He smiled, glancing between you and Dean.

“You owe me a coffee, and you owe me a dinner,” you continued before he could say anything. Dean thanked you silently. He didn’t really want a shovel talk from his own brother right now, which he could see Sam was just dying to dish out. He wondered if you’d be getting one. Probably, but he had no doubts that it would be less “shovel” more “talk”.

“Soon as you’re fixed up,” he said. “I promise.”

“And it’ll be a date?”

“Sweetheart, it’ll be the best first date you’ve ever been on. Trust me.”

You just grinned, ignoring Sam’s fake-disgusted sigh. “Ok.”

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talesofsorrowandofruin · 1 year

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Seven Snippets Seven People Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @imaginationxlost! :D

Rules: post seven snippets from a WIP and tag seven people. I’ll do this for Like Snow on Hungry Graves:

Konstantine had learnt as a child that he could unnerve people with his eyes. It was part of his inheritance from his mother. Unlike her he couldn't cast a spell on someone by looking at them, unlike her he couldn't make them say everything on their mind, but he could stare at them until their skin crawled and they spoke just to make him look away.

Konstantine felt his skin crawl as he looked up at his father. He couldn't keep the disgust off his face or out of his voice. "So you have summoned me to replace my soon-to-be-murdered brother."

"Oh no." A ghastly smile crossed the emperor's face. "No, I would never throw away the life of one of my true-born sons."

Light began to dawn. "So you see a way to get rid of your unwanted half-breed bastard."

The emperor nodded, his self-satisfied expression returning. "Exactly. I'm glad to see we understand each other."

Hariye was never sure afterwards what had made him jump into the river. He'd intended to walk along it until he was safely out of the city and could find another way to travel. But somehow, illogical though it sounded, the water had called to him. He answered that call without thinking.

Then he got a nasty shock when he found himself in deep water for the first time in his life. He promptly got another slightly less nasty shock when he discovered he knew how to swim even though no one had ever taught him before. In fact he'd never even been in any water deeper than his bathtub or the swimming pool for the princes. But the biggest shock of all came five minutes later.

It didn't register with him at first. All he thought about it was, Hmm, I've been underwater for a long time.

Then he realised: I should need to breathe.

And that led to the earth-shattering discovery: I am breathing! I can breathe underwater!

A hand grabbed the boat's side. Ketevan recoiled with a yelp. It was a human's hand, but with webbing between the fingers and strangely sharp, pointed nails. The skin was dead white with hints of blue and green. Horrible ideas of drowned people returning as ghosts filled her mind. She reached for the nearest oar. Then all thoughts of ghosts disappeared, because another hand joined the first one and their owner pulled themselves up so they could see into the boat.

No living human had ever seen a mer. The only surviving evidence of their existence was in the drawings in historical documents and the jewellery made from their iridescent scales. But Ketevan had seen enough of those drawings to know what they looked like. They had gills at their neck, patches of scales on their face, upper arms, and torso frilly fins along their arms and back, and below the waist they had a long tail like a fish's.

The person staring at her over the boat's side looked as if he had stepped right out of those drawings.

It wasn't far to the beach. Ketevan stumbled out onto dry land in a way that even she had to admit was clumsy -- though only to herself. She turned, expecting to see the mer had gone back to the sea, and got yet another shock.

The mer had followed her onto the beach. But he was no longer a mer. His gills, scales and tail were gone. In their place was a perfectly normal, apparently perfectly human teenage boy. He was pale, yes, but it was a normal, human paleness without any corpse-like undertones. He tried futilely to wring the water out of his hair and shirt before giving up.

Events of the next few hours strengthened Ketevan's idea. Hariye never mentioned his mer form. He had apparently never visited the sea before. He had no clear idea of where the nearest town was, and once they found it he didn't know where the nearest port was. When she tried very carefully to ask how he was able to swim so well he shrugged and said he'd been surprised too. It looked more and more as if he honestly didn't know he was a mer, or else had only just discovered it and didn't understand the full implications of that.

Two ideas warred in Ketevan's mind. One, whoever had a fresh supply of mer scales would become one of the richest and most powerful people in the world. If she forced him into his mer form she could harvest his scales. Two, he'd saved her life. He was young and naïve and had no idea he was in danger from people who would want his scales.

Hariye had spent his entire life under the watchful eye of someone. If not his nursemaid, then his siblings. If not his siblings, then his father. If not his father, then his servants. If not his servants, then the palace guards. Even when he was physically alone he knew other people were never more than a few rooms away and would come running if he gave the slightest indication he needed anything.

At some point he had realised that he was treated differently from his half-brothers. They could go anywhere they liked and were left alone when they wanted to be. When he was younger he'd asked his older sister why he wasn't allowed to behave like them.

"It's because you're so much more important," she'd said. "We have to keep you safe at all costs."

Back then Hariye had accepted this explanation without question. He'd spent weeks being insufferably smug because he was more important than his brothers, in fact. Now, after being away from his family for almost a week, he looked back at that and began to wonder. What on earth was so special about him that he was treated like he was made of glass? And for that matter, how had he managed to sneak out unseen? It had seemed like extraordinary luck at the time but now made him wonder if his servants had just plain been sick of watching him all the time.

Tagging @saltysupercomputer, @itsaprildaydreams, @junypr-camus, @words-after-midnight, @creatrackers, @spuddlespud, and anyone else who wants to do this! :D

#tag game #writing #my writing #my WIPs #WIP: snow

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quitethepirategal · 8 months

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Vampirzyca ( Vampire ) AU Details.

Part Two: Strengths, Weaknesses, and Abilities ~

She has no idea who she was before she died and turned. She has no memories of a human life, but knows she had one, and her memory is a terrible one anyway. She does not know how old she is, nor does she care. She does not know what year it is, nor does she care. She cannot change, she cannot grow mentally or emotionally, and she almost cannot learn. She does not understand time any better than an animal would.

Actually there are a lot of ways she's closer to an animal that a human, aside from the obvious. She can non-verbally communicate with animals and open minded or psychic humans. She can smell and identify delicate pheromones and has a few of her own. Her hearing, smell, touch, taste, and vision are stronger than that of a Bengal tiger. But she cannot read or count higher than thirty, and cannot read human emotions any better than a human can read a dog. It's also rumored that she can only say words she's heard before, but that's only true in her Beast shape, and she doesn't talk much in the first place.

She has two shapes primarily and six in total. Her Lady shape ( female-coded human form ) is her most common form and is the "default" for all intents and purposes. She looks just like a human woman, except she's seven ft tall, hides a lion tail, has gold eyes almost like a cat's, and is covered in orange body hair. Her Beast shape ( monster form ) is a larger, lion-like, werewolf-esque animal with hawk's feet and goat's horns and bear's teeth and claws. Other shapes include her Cat shape, ( a dark orange Abyssinian cat with black paws and legs, gold human's eyes, and puff at the end of it's tail like a lion. ) her Man shape, ( a male-coded human form that is exactly like her Lady shape only much smaller, mustached, and with obvious gold cat's eyes. ) her Beetle shape, ( she can change into a swarm of honeybees, black beetles, and/or white and orange butterflies, usually to sleep or escape danger. ) and her Ghost shape ( she drops the illusion that her body is corporeal and becomes a shadow or cloud of black smoke ).

You heard correct: the physicality of her body is an illusion. Her actual body is the charred remains of her mummified skeleton, frozen in time, that she's laid carefully on an unlit pyre in her home. No matter where she relocates or builds her nest, the pyre is built where humans wont easily find it and her remains are laid there with love. She is always placing fresh flowers and pretty rocks around her grave and when she sleeps its in her Beetle shape; the bugs and butterflies in a clump under her ribs and sprinkled all over the straw and the bones. Lighting the pyre and burning her corpse completely to ash is the only known way to permanently kill her. She is closer to a strzyga or a upiór in this way: she had two souls in life and when she died, one soul ( the mind of whoever she was as a human ) passed on after thirty days and the other soul ( the monster she is now ) gained a physical form and a hunger for blood.

She does have to sleep at least once a week for a full thirty hours. She sleeps every Thursday which is why she's hungrier and more active on Fridays.

Actually she has a ton of arbitrary time related rules. The sun only burns her skin from dawn to noon and if she stays in it too long she could catch fire ( not die, just burn ). After that the sun is totally fine. Moonlight makes her weak slightly and the moon seems to dictate what shapes she can take on. Every night before, night of, and night after a new moon she can change into her Beast shape. Every night before, night of, or night after a full moon, or during storms, she can change into her Ghost shape. She can only use her Man shape during crescent moons, half moons, or storms and she can only use her Cat shape during quarter moons, half moons, or storms. She can take her Lady and Beetle shapes at any time. She can only take any shape at will on the solstices and the equinoxes. And she eats more in the winter and hunts more in the late fall than nearly any other time of year.

Speaking of arbitrary rules, here are some more. She hates water and iron above all else. Rain, snow, and small streams have no effect on her aside from mild discomfort. But still water, clean water, water humans have tampered with, sea water, and big lakes or rivers all repulse her, and the water feels itchy and ice cold. Except water from an iron bucket or boiling / boiled water, which just feel like boiling water and hurts like crazy. She can't drink water without pain, but can't be thirsty for anything but blood anyway. All iron burns to touch and spooks her. Silver can be between slightly irritating to painfully itchy depending on its quality. Gold tingles at best and sorta itches at worst. Fire feels less painful to her than to a human and she can pick up hot coals. Hearth fires and the morning sunlight feel way hotter, however. But fires with bones in them don't hurt at all. Religious symbols, regardless of the religion, do absolutely nothing, however the Evil Eye has a mild hypnotic effect on her. She cannot enter a building or room that someone calls home unless she's invited. She cannot sit at a table or in a chair until invited. Beautiful singing makes her sleepy, drowsy, or confused and causes dissociation or a sleep like trance.

But enough of her weaknesses, on to her powers. She can hypnotize, seduce, and control weak minds, as a traditional vampire can, using her charmed eyes or by singing. She can move both unnaturally fast and inhumanly slow every shape except Beetle. She can only fly when Ghost or Beetle shaped but she can float up to a foot off the ground in all forms. Cars stall and tech goes haywire when she's in a half mile radius. She can cause accidents, start fires, and both cure and inflict specific diseases but all only at very close range. She gets younger looking the better fed she is but that doesn't seem to be as central a motivator as hunger, leaving her looking to be in her late thirties most of the time. She cannot become pregnant by any creature but she can impregnate humans, especially in her Man shape, and mates with them at least once every ten or so years. Any children she'd sire would have an array of supernatural abilities, but would also have human life spans, meaning raising families are out of the question, with the exception of her small harem of fledglings.

She eats fresh meat, organs, body fluids, and blood, obviously. Blood and meat acquired consensually is the most delicious. Body fluids ( cum, sweat, etc. ) taste second best, fresh meat and blood from a hunt is third and dried or rotted meats are fine but not her fav. She can eat cooked organs and meat but they taste...gross. Double gross if there's any herbs or spices. The only things that don't taste like ass are honey, fungi, tree roots, and wild berries. But they have almost zero nutritional value for her. Garlic makes her violently sneeze and burns her eyes and nose like hot peppers. Hot peppers and other spicy food have no effect and just taste really bad like most other food. Her powers grow when she's well fed.

#au; THERE'S A LION LADY IN THE WOODS { vampirzyca }#x; WHY AREN'T YOU A CLEVER ONE? { meta }#holy shit beta has a character limit im going to throw my fucking chair

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sakuraswordly · 9 months

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Danny: Why......Why are you so nice to me..? I don't deserve such kindness.....

Sonic: You deserve it.....You deserve all kindness that they care about you...

Danny: Even you know how many sins I commit?

Sonic: ..................*Nod*

Danny: I murdered my human half in my timeline....only Punch, Homura and you know about this truth. My other human half in the original timeline or the original Danny still exists inside me. And now he is free and lives with Sam in Punch's homeland timeline. I don't have a human form to hide anyone now. I can't go back to Sam....

Sonic: Even so Daniel-

Danny: I had a moment today, where I almost regretted something. For a split-second, I thought "If only I hadn't accidentally activated the newly built Fenton Ghost Portal from the inside, turning me into a human/ghost hybrid with an array of ghostly superpowers." I shouldn't have been born into this world....I shouldn't exist...I completely fail at being the hero of justice...How will I ever face Enkidu when I become like this?

*Sonic walk and hugs Danny softly*

Danny: I will lose my heart again if I continue this.....but there's nothing I can do because I'm already a psychopathic ghost, a zombie...!! I can't ask my human half to stay together or even start life over. I can't tell Sam to hold me when I am like this!

Danny: Ha...ha...heh heh...Ha Ha Ha.. Aha HA HAHAHA!!

Homura: Danny you.....

Punch: ................

Danny: It’s true, I can block out the pain! I don’t feel any pain anymore! This is what it feels like to be the fully ghost!

*Danny again rushes forward, this time cutting past the vines, and reaches the Witch. He slashes at the Witch repeatedly and begins to laugh insanely while blood splatters on his face until he finishes off the witch.*

Danny: Ha....ha....heh heh heh.....It's easy once you know how to do it...I'm sure I'll never lose this ever again....

Gilgamesh: The labyrinth is gone....but....

Amity: Danny.....

Danny: We're finished. That's what you're after, aren't you?

Héctor: Hey...Danny....you don't have to....

Danny: I don't want to be in your debt, Sonic. Now we're even, got it? Come on, let's go.

Punch: Whoa! Danny!

Danny: Ah....sorry...I'm just....a little tired....

Sonic: Daniel....we need to talk....

Danny: ..............

Homura: That witch....it was the same as the witch that Sayaka Miki once fought, Elsa Maria. I never thought that it came back to the circle. Punch. Why don't you be the one to talk to Danny?

Punch: You too Homura. Why don't you go interfere with them?

Homura: I need to be careful around Bête Noire. I can't let her kidnap Danny ever again. It's my fault that Danny becomes lost his balance of himself.

Punch: And you want me to stop Danny before he will go berserk.

Homura: Because you are the one Danny cares about the most.

Punch: Not only me......

Sonic: Daniel....You say it doesn't hurt but you're lying. I can tell just by looking at you. Just because you don't feel it, it doesn't mean it's okay to get hurt.

Danny: If I don't fight like that, I can't win. And I will lose my friends if I don't do something.

Sonic: Even if you win, it doesn't mean it's good for you. That situation let Punch and me handle this next time.

Danny: Are you trying to take other people's faults on your own again? What are you know anything about me? You don't even try to understand me at all! What are you doing here now because I look like someone else?!

*Flashback*

?????: “You just assumed I’d go along with you, no matter what! Did you ever consider what I wanted!?”

?????: "That's exactly your problem! You just jump into a situation with no idea about the outcome!"

*End of Flashback*

Sonic: I just want to redo the mistake in the past that's all and I don't want you to end up like someone I knew in the past.

Danny: Redo? I'm just a walking, talking corpse, pretending it's still alive. What kind of "good" could anyone possibly do for me now? It's stupid to even think about it. If you really want to do something for me, you should experience what I've experienced first!

Sonic: I did and I'm not lying.

Danny: Even give up being human?!

Sonic: Yes. I did give up on someone I know and said goodbye to him without regret. I am non-human, to begin with. I gave my human vessel to save Tails' girlfriend to live in this world to the fullest.

Sonic: After I saw in both Syaoran and Sakura's memories....I know I had to save Cosmo and say goodbye to a friend of mine.

Danny: I'm sorry for causing you trouble. I know how much you have been through Sonic. I just can't see you responsible and hurt yourself. I understand how much you three hurt...even Enkidu...

Sonic: You mean King Gilgamesh?

Danny: He never looked at me or pities me but I know he was worried about me......heh...I am not myself at all...you three were amazing that still keep smiling and happy like that...maybe it's because I can't care about anything anymore. I can't even remember what I thought so important, so worth protecting.

Sonic: Daniel....! Your eyes and your pact....!

Danny: The balance of hope and despair in the world cancels out to zero. Now I finally understand what that meant. Sure, I managed to save a few people, but in exchange, hatred and jealousy filled my heart. I even hurt my best partner...Whenever we pray for someone's happiness, someone else must be cursed in exchange... Turns out that's how this world works and also the hero of justice...I...really am...

*Sonic rushed to hug Danny.*

Sonic: You're not stupid! You're not a failure! I know what you're feeling now "Danny"! I felt the same way. I was once like you! You wanted to kill me right? I understand! I also once tried to kill Punch and Peter with my own power! That time I couldn't control myself my curse was far too strong! I felt like I was torn apart and don't want to live anymore! You have value! Value no one else has! I declare it here and now. In the world, I have two partners right here and now! So that value will never change, for all eternity!

Danny: Sonic...you.....

Sonic: I had enough of this.....I won't give up anymore even if you change...I will save you....even "Punch"...no...I will save King Gilgamesh....no matter how arrogant he is.

Danny: ............*Sob*...............*Sob*

"I was a weapon. As a weapon, I would be changed depending on the weapons of the next era. I am nothing more than a treasure that people will use. I'm nothing more than one of your countless treasures. In the future, you will encounter treasures more valuable than me"

Gilgamesh: ...............................It came back to full circle. So you finished with Homura then.

Punch: Amity came by and take Homura's group somewhere else, waiting for Danny to finish.

Gilgamesh: ..............I always thought I will never see the painful past again. But.....I can't avoid it, can't it...

Punch: I am included amongst those mongrels?

Gilgamesh: Heh. What do you think then?

Punch: Heh. We're waiting for Sonic to finish. We can't afford to disappear after we're interrupted like this.

Gilgamesh: .....................

Punch: Remember what I said to you?

"Mr Gilgamesh, you're strong and dependable, so you might be okay. But I'm not okay. Because I care about you. It worries me when a person I care about gets injured and faces hardships."

Punch: Sonic now felt hurt not because of Danny but because of you Mr Gilgamesh. The painful past you thought that made him say those words to Danny, he can sense how we are right now.

Gilgamesh: And I'm sure I would hurt here. Because I care about him. Like he cares about us.

Sonic: Then will you talk to me?

Punch: Fast as always. I see an eye drop too.

Gilgamesh: ...................Okay.

Punch: Out loud! Or lone your treasures?

Gilgamesh: Punch....!

Sonic: *Chuckle and Smile*

*Flashback*

Punch: Can I call you Mr Gilgamesh?

Gilgamesh: Mr?

Punch: Call "King" It's too weird and this is our first greeting meeting too so....

Gilgamesh: No, it's okay. It's been a while since anyone's address me like that. No...It's been a while since anyone called me "Mr".

Punch: Peter, what are you normally called by those close to you?

Peter: Sometimes Peter or Link. Those Kokiri named me "Link" for easy to call me "Peter".

Punch: People around me call me "Punch" but Mr Gilgamesh said that it had been a while since anyone called him.

Peter: Well.....he is a king so everyone around him needs to be formal and frightened.

Punch: He was just like me when I was little everyone around was scared of me because I'm too much clever.

Peter: I understand Punch. Let's help him then. Help him to not get lonely.

Punch: Yeah.

*End of Flashback*

Punch: Sonic.

Sonic: Huh?

Punch: Thank you for coming along with me.

Sonic: I should be the one who thanks you for taking care of me.

Gilgamesh: What are you guys doing?! I'm leaving you behind!

Sonic & Punch: We're coming!

Sonic: Take care, "Danny".....Homura......

#sakuraswordly #tsubasa of phantasia concept #Tsofph Danny Phantom #sonic crowe #punch whalen #fate gilgamesh #Tsofph Gilgamesh #tsofph season 11 #danny phantom #danny phantom au #tsubasa of phantasia 11 #tsofph Season 11(Chapter2 Shadow Path(Butterfly Effect))#dark danny

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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the art of modernity [ prologue ]

prologue - jueyun karst

pairing: xiao x gn!reader warnings: canon-typical violence mention words: ~1.8k words fic masterlist [ prev ] - [ next ]

chapter summary: you drag four of your closest friends to jueyun karst to chase after possible traces of the adepti. none of them expect for you to actually find any, but hey, anything is possible, right?

a/n: can't believe 'making xiao eat a chicken nugget and french fries' is becoming an actual fic but here we are. enjoy !! :D

when you had asked yanfei the legal repercussions of disrupting jueyun karst, the entire brunch table had looked at you as if you had grown a third eye. kaeya had sat down the third mimosa he had been nursing, while childe had actually stopped speaking for once. yanfei giggled with intrigue and keqing had stared at you with an expression that screamed are you serious right now?

yet somehow, you had ended up in keqing's overcrowded car and made a road trip to fuel your farfetched dreams. sure, like any kid growing up, you had read percy jackson and the archons, but, unlike most kids, you had taken the myths of the archons seriously. shrines and ruins still sung praises of their names, but most liyuean mythology was treated as having no greater value than old folk tales. the world had moved on past the need of teyvat's expansive pantheon of the elemental archons, visions, and celestia, yet some scholars sought to prove the existence of the old gods. most of the time, their efforts were fruitless.

you, of course, were no scholar. you were simply a dumbass who graduated college and decided in their post-college/pre-settled life panic to go traverse the treacherous lands of jueyun karst. as prosperous as liyue was, jueyun karst still remained heavily untouched as there were areas that even rich moguls were scared to get their grubby hands on. why turn the beautiful mountains and swirling lakes into sprawling shopping centers if the entire area was rumored to be cursed anyways? so, the country had turned jueyun karst into a protected area in the form of a national park.

but now, with your car full of three and a half dumbasses (keqing certainly doesn't count and yanfei is only halfway to idiocy), you had decided to certainly ignore the title of protected area. you had full intentions of disrupting whatever you could get your grimy hands on. you wanted to see the adepti in action and, if others called you crazy for it, then so be it.

"gods, where even are we?" kaeya asks. his tone lacks the annoyance you would expect from childe nor the worried-yet-still-composed nature you would expect from keqing's words. so, you shrug him off with a simple wave of your hand.

"not really sure, but there's enough of us out here that we won't die, right?" you ask and kaeya stares at you blankly before turning to look behind the two of you at the three stragglers.

"keqing!" he calls, realizing that you are of no help. "where are we?"

keqing huffs as she approaches the two of you while yanfei and childe stagger behind her, both acting tired despite being some of the most athletic people you know. in typical keqing fashion, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a compass. kaeya stares as the compass needle spins around aimlessly in her hand, its connection clearly disrupted by some force in the area.

"oh gods, what does that mean? we're going to die. we're going to die out here," childe deadpans, panic creeping into his voice. yanfei swats him playfully on the arm before he can begin his usual theatrics, knowing full and well how childe loves living in the spotlight.

"dying in a protected national park is illegal," yanfei adds and kaeya stares at her with a baffled expression.

"what? are the police going to arrest a corpse?" kaeya asks incredulously and yanfei folds her arms over her chest, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"didn't you want to be a cop at one point? shouldn't you be aware as to how arresting procedures work?" yanfei asks and kaeya recoils at her question.

"no, i was considering going into military like my dad. i don't wanna be a cop," kaeya shoots back and childe jokingly gags once he hears the word 'military'.

"military? yuck," childe says and becomes the next recipient to receive childe's incredulous gaze.

"didn't you literally join the fatui for two years?" kaeya asks but childe shakes his head.

"not like you have any proof," the ginger-haired man shoots back.

"i can easily acquire proof?" kaeya says, but keqing clears her throat loudly before the two men can engage in a full showdown of words.

"c'mon, guys, we have bigger problems to solve than childe's blatant lies," keqing redirects the conversation with ease but not before kaeya lets out a triumphant hmph at keqing's words. "like figuring out why this compass isn't working and figuring out how to get back because it doesn't work."

"ooh, maybe it's not working because there are ghosts nearby," childe says, but before yanfei and kaeya can engage with his dumbassery once more, you interject.

"it's likely just elemental energy or adeptal energy. i know you guys probably don't believe in them, but this is said to be the former realm of the adepti. wouldn't be surprised if there are traces of them left!" you say, voice far too cheery for the implication of your words. kaeya only shrugs at the suggestion that gods are watching over you as you travel through the park, yanfei only looks intrigued in a nearly-dangerous way, keqing looks nonplussed due to her strong belief that the gods no longer exist, and childe looks absolutely terrified yet is trying to act like he isn't.

"anyways," you continue. "maybe there's a domain!"

"ancient liyuean law forbids unauthorized entrance into domains without proper licensure from the adventurer's guild," yanfei says, as if knowing ancient law is a completely normal activity for a twenty-something-year-old.

"what is a domain?" keqing and kaeya ask at the same time before glancing at each other.

"i'm... not sure. pretty sure they have like... ancient monsters and stuff," you confess and, for the first time today, childe perks up excitedly, eagerly taking a step closer to you.

"monsters? like those uh... hollychirls? whatever they're called? how big do you think they are?" childe asks with an excited glimmer in his eyes.

"weren't you just worried about dying?" keqing asks, but childe ignores her question.

"so like... we're trying to find this domain, right?" childe asks, confused. "what are we looking for?"

"i don't really see why a domain would have adepti traces so we're probably better off looking for something else," you say and yanfei perks up.

"like that?" she asks, pointing off at something glowing faintly orange in the distance. you squint slightly in an attempt to better look at it, but you're unable to distinguish what exactly yanfei as pointing at.

"we might as well go see what that is," keqing says and you're slightly surprised for the purple-haired girl to suggest such a thing, but you figure she's just trying to find a place where her compass actually works. the spinning dial isn't too much of a concern for you since you're in no rush to leave, but the friends you've brought along aren't quite as keen on discovering the secrets of the adepti as you are, so you follow the herd as they begin to move over to the glowing orange light.

the five of you climb down, approaching what soon reveals itself as a stone pillar with a glowing chunk of cor lapis on top. it's certainly nothing new and is probably a protected relic, yet no guards are stationed in front of it. it's almost certainly been discovered before, so why isn't it..?

"oh, isn't this area usually flooded?" yanfei asks and everyone turns to stare at her.

"you've been here before?" keqing asks and you wonder to yourself when these people will stop asking questions and instead keep looking for hints.

"you guys haven't traveled to jueyun karst before?" yanfei asks, confused. "yeah, this area's usually flooded with water. i've never seen that thing before."

if it's usually flooded, then it was likely discovered before, but not relocated, you think to yourself and immediately break out in a sprint towards the cor lapis tower. sure, it was about the height of you, with the cubic chunk on top reaching the height of your head, yet you were more than satisfied with looking at the carvings on the side. childe is the first to catch up with you, using his long legs to match your pace. he sighs as you finally stop and watches as you frantically begin poking and prodding at the pillar.

"are you sure that's a good idea?" he asks, nervously. "what if it's a mechanism or something?"

"what's the worst that could happen?" you ask and childe sputters over his words.

"a lot of things!" childe insists, yet kaeya, keqing, and yanfei's joined arrival interrupts him from making an even bigger fuss.

"try putting your palm flat on the diamond," yanfei suggests and you take a step back. with a steady hand, you lays her palm flat against the side of the pillar, in which a diamond has been engraved onto its surface. around the group of you, the remnants of water begin to glow orange as the pillar emits an even stronger, unnatural glow of energy. the pillar begins to vibrate rapidly and yanfei lets out a small, knowing laugh while the rest of you watch, wide-eyed and confused by the moving pillar.

yet, all that happens is that the cor lapis situated on the top of the pillar falls off, landing on the side of the pillar with a resounding crack. the four of your friends immediately move over to look at the now shattered chunk of cor lapis on the ground, yet you gravitate towards the stone pillar. on the spot where the cor lapis fell, a single name is etched into the stone, as if this pillar is supposed to mark a specific area.

"'xiao'?" you breathe, reading off the word on the pillar.

"what's xi-" kaeya begins, glancing over at you, but before he can finish, a flash of green appears on the opposite side of your friends. your lips part in shock as you watch the deity appear before you. a mask rests on his face and a polearm rests in his hand, yet despite his disguised face, you can sense the anger rolling off his form in waves. his green hair ruffles in the wind as his free hand reaches up to lower his mask. infuriated amber eyes pierce into yours, but the adeptus speaks before you can.

"i am adeptus xiao. how dare you mortals infringe upon jueyun karst and disrupt my land?" xiao seethes and, for once, all five of you are silent as the yaksha points his polearm at you.

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crispyjenkins · 3 years

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Rexobi. I really just wanna see Rex and Obi-wan drinking together and complaining about the disaster that is Anakin Skywalker. They decide to team up to get anakin to calm the heck down and to talk about his feelings. Anakin doesn’t realize what’s going on but gets the idea he needs to play matchmaker with his master and his captain. He thinks he’s the smart one but he’s really not

(i have once again chickened out of your full prompt and instead give you the leadup to rexobi getting anakin to talk about his feelings.

i uhhh may be unable to think of anything but a rexobi au à la this post by @norcumii and @dharmaavocado about roleswap-ish senior padawan obi hella vibing with this mutant clone that can’t get above the rank of captain even as an arc trooper because the kaminoans are Like That, and qui-gon is going spare, because between anakin somehow being allowed to be in charge of a whole battalion and obi-wan picking fights with every single seperatist leader, he and cody never get a moment of peace. and like. just obi and rex being dumbass 20 year olds trying to deal with a general/master like anakin in the middle of a war. i don’t have TIME for that though

thank you for the prompt as always, i think this is the only rexobi/obex prompt i’ve ever gotten and this ship is criminally underappreciated. like?? kadavo?? anyways here’s whatever this is)

Alt+R to Quick Reblog on Desktop, Hold the Reblog Symbol to Quick Reblog on Mobile

Not for the first time, Rex wishes Kote were the one here dealing with this, because “how to comfort your favorite Jedi” hadn’t exactly been covered in ARC training – actually, Alpha probably withheld the information on purpose, the fucker.

But Kote is on the other side of the galaxy with the 187th and just as upset they’re not here in Rex’s stead: it’s barely a month off General Kenobi returning to his own face, and Rex knows his vod would strangle the entire Senate if given even half a chance for deploying them separately on their general’s first mission back after the Hardeen... incident.

And Fett’s Ghost knows Rex’s own general is going to pitch a fit when he finds out Rex is here instead of taking leave like the rest of the 501st, but Kote certainly wasn’t about to let Kenobi go all the way to Alderaan unguarded so soon after his supposed death; and honestly, Rex would have been offended if they had asked anybody else to do it. Thankfully, Kenobi hadn’t seemed offended when Rex had shown up at the Jedi Temple’s flight hangar before he could take off; instead, he had been rather amused.

Even luckier, Alderaan is barely a day’s jump from Coruscant, so they don’t have to spend too much time awkwardly pretending that Rex hadn’t attended the man’s funeral in Kote's place (that he would have attended anyways), or that Rex doesn’t know Anakin hasn’t spoken to his former master since their debrief to the High Council about Cad Bane. Which Rex should absolutely not know in the first place, but Anakin is his friend, for better or for worse, and Ahsoka thinks her master airs far too many of his grievances to his captain.

It isn't until their cruiser is making the descent over Alderaan that Kenobi finally addresses the tension between them, which only proves that Kenobi is well aware of it, but had put it off as long as he could. It's a humanising observation, that Rex wishes he could have had when he isn't the only vod in a ten mile radius that isn't the pilot, because at least then he wouldn't be the sole receiver of the soft smile Kenobi gives him as he joins Rex to wait by the shuttle's access hatch.

Rex thanks his progenitor's laughing corpse he has his bucket on, because all he can do is stare.

"You are worried about Anakin," Kenobi says matter of factly, though not unkindly, and Rex lets out a breath that's almost a laugh.

"I promise I am far more discrete with my thoughts in the field, sir."

Kenobi chuckles warmly, tucking his arms behind his back to watch the planet under them grow larger as they approach. "Do try not to worry so much, my dear, this will all resolve itself in time."

It's hard to stare right at his gentle assuredness, so Rex looks away. "You have far more faith in his ability to forgive than I, sir."

That laugh strains at the edges. "Yes, well, I'm afraid some of my lessons seem to have been... lacking."

Rex has regs carbon-printed on his brain, he knows that even without the direct chain of command, the soft push and pull of his relationship with Kenobi, the steady, serene growth of it, is... problematic, for so many reasons that he wouldn't know where to start. Not least of all is rank, how much more important a Jedi is than a replaceable CC-track washout, but, well, Rex had washed out for being too emotional, so it's not as if he's exactly unused to reacting to things inappropriately for a good little soldier.

"It's not my place, sir," he murmurs, remembering Kadavo, remembering Umbara, remembering the hand Kenobi had laid on his shoulder for far too long after the Blue Shadow virus, and has Rex really been this gone since then? "just say the word and I won't mention it again. But just because Kote isn't here doesn't mean you have to... shoulder all of this alone."

In fact, it's wildly not his place to make such an offer, however implicit, but that month on Kadavo did happen, and Rex isn't so self-deprecating to believe he hadn't had a heavy hand in helping Kenobi make it out on the other side as well as he did. He doesn't think so little of the bond they had formed then, to believe that Obi-Wan is unaware of it.

Not when he smiles at Rex like that, like he's a warm cup of caf after a week in the trenches, like Rex is... worthy of such sincere affection.

As the shuttle settles around them and the pilot announces their arrival over comm, Obi-Wan simply says, "I did not for a moment believe I was, my dear."

"You and Rex seem close."

Normally Obi-Wan can feel Anakin coming from an entire corridor away, but he also knows Quinlan has been teaching him a few Shadow tricks, so he isn't entirely surprised when Anakin appears at his elbow in the empty bridge looking like a smug necu.

Aside from eating firstmeal with Kote in the mess, Obi-Wan hasn't even seen Rex today, much less interacted with him: as he understands it, Rex is trying to round up the remaining 501st shinies that are running around the Negotiator, so Obi-Wan really doesn't know where Anakin had gotten that notion. Recently, at least.

Anakin rolls his eyes and scoffs, leaning back on the railing next to him and crossing his arms. "Please, Master, even Snips has noticed."

Obi-Wan refrains from telling him that anyone with a modicum more self-awareness than him has noticed. Be that as it may, "This is one of those times where I truly don't know what you're trying to say, my dear: I have been close with Rex since he was in the 212th."

It isn't even an exaggeration, that there had been... something between them before Anakin whisked Rex away to his own battalion after his knighting, though back then it had been nothing more than friendship. If he recalls correctly, and he does, the cleanup of the Ryloth capitol had been the first time since then that they had worked closely, while Anakin had been on the ground with the locals and Mace had been with General Syndulla, and Obi-Wan had found he still quite enjoyed the way they worked together. Their time on Naboo combating the Blue Shadow virus had only endeared the captain more to him —he does remember a slip in propriety in his relief that Rex had been rescued safely with Padmé and Ahsoka, a hand left too long on the captain's shoulder until Kote had called him away— enough that Obi-Wan had been both relieved and horrified that it was Rex there to support him on Kadavo.

"Cody said Rex was the one to go with you to Alderaan; you sure nothing 'happened' while you were there?" Anakin chuckles to himself like he's being incredibly clever, like there isn’t a hickey visible over the collar of his under tunic.

Obi-Wan raises a brow slowly and refrains from rolling his eyes. "Despite what you may believe, Anakin, not everyone leaps into committed relationships after life-threatening situations." Not that Alderaan had been life-threatening, it had actually been as close to actual leave as Obi-Wan has had the entire war.

"Please, it took Padmé and I ages to–"

Anakin seems to swallow his tongue, then, face rapidly going purple, and it really is a miracle the entire Republic doesn’t know about his marriage; the GAR certainly does.

Sighing, Obi-Wan checks the chrono and decides it isn't too early for another cup of tea. "If you have a specific question about my relationship with Captain Rex, I do wish you’d be direct, my dear."

Anakin splutters. "Relationship?!"

"Great Maker, Anakin, you’re easier to spook than a half-starved blurrg." He pats Anakin’s arm, his sonbrother floundering for anything other than abject confoundment, as Obi-Wan turns away from the bridge to go locate both tea, and his commander to hopefully finalise their newest mission orders. "Don't worry," he calls over his shoulder, "I'll actually let you come to the wedding, unlike someone."

Not that Obi-Wan has any such plans, Maker knows he and Rex have yet to address their feelings in the first place, but he'd be lying if part of him doesn't want to conspire with the captain in question —and perhaps Ahsoka— to see just how far they could take this before Anakin realises they're stringing him along.

Remarkably, Rex is waiting by Obi-Wan’s office with a flimsi cup of tea and a harried smile that promised quite the day chasing after shinies, and Obi-Wan decides conning his former apprentice can wait.

Mando’a: vod/e — “brother/s”, “comrade/s”, “sibling/s”, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brother/s”

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Lucky Me (Sequel To Unlucky)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You aren’t always born with luck. Sometimes, you meet people who bring it to you. In short, they are your lucky charm.

Requested: Yes, but not in a typical way. A big thank you to all the wonderful people who read, liked, reblogged and commented on part one - Unlucky.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 and many more ❤❤❤

They are the reason this story is being written. What was originally supposed to be an elaborate one-shot turned into the most liked piece I’ve ever written. I can’t thank you enough, guys. You are amazing and I hope you like this one just as much or even more than the previous. Love you ❤❤❤

Y/N’s POV

I’m grinning at my reflection in the mirror as I put on a pair of earrings. My face is already touched-up with a little make-up and my hair is looking on point. I can almost see my own reflection in the shine of excitement in my eyes. I take in my upper body via a quick once-over in the full body mirror opposite me, and I finally relax my muscles that I didn’t ever realize I was tensing.

“OK, now I’m ready.“ I say as a form of encouragement as I reach behind me for my phone that’s sitting on my bed.

You might be wondering where I’m going? Who I’m going with? What’s the occasion behind this many preparations and pampering?

The answer: Nowhere. No one. Nothing. I’m literally not even going to leave my house.

It might seem ridiculous to someone else, but to me, to my hypnotized mind, it’s perfectly reasonable to be getting so amped up over a FaceTime call. Yeah, you heard me correctly - a FaceTime call.

Well, you see, this isn’t the first time we FaceTime, but it will be the first time we’ll see each other’s faces. I wanted to level the field so I didn’t let him on to what I look like, where exactly I live, etc. Basically, he only knows my name, which I am still prepared to call unfair, considering I don’t know his real name.

A brief backstory to my first ever real interaction with Corpse: I was introduced to him by my friends. They are the ones I always turned to with all the scary shit happening in my life. Often times they didn’t know weather to comfort me or laugh at my curse. My friends suggested I start sharing it to a youtuber named Corpse Husband. You see, I love YouTube narrators and I’ve always been a fan of Mr. Nightmare and I, to be perfectly honest, always kept the idea of sending him my stories in the back of my mind. Nevertheless, I bit the bullet and checked out on of this Corpse Husband guy’s videos. And then another. And another. And before I knew it I was having a marathon after which I was too paranoid to get online, walk home alone at night, leave my curtains open etc. It wasn’t all thanks to the stories themselves. A lot of the fear factor these stories strike with should be credited to the way they are read. Let me tell you, this guy had it all figured out with the reading. Not sending him my stories would just be wrong. So I did, I sent him my first ever creepy encounter which was with a stalker from my high school and it took me only two days to forget about it. It only crossed my mind when my friends blew my phone up, demanding I watched Corpse’s new video. I kid you not, I got more scared by the story when he read it than when I lived it. That’s what settled it for me - I decided to send him each and every story.

And then one day, out of the blue, my life changed for the better in more ways than one. It got turned completely upside down, like a rollercoaster, and I just had to hold on and enjoy the ride, embrace the adrenaline rush and excitement, knowing full well that I chose to get on and there’s no way I can get off halfway through.

I’m being too metaphorical. He sent me an email. He freaking reached out to me. And I was posed with a rough choice. Took me a minute, but I chose to reply to him, I chose to trust him, and I couldn’t just leave him on read one day simply cause I chickened out. Yes, I’m unlucky and these things don’t happen to unlucky people. I mean, they do, but they are nightmares disguised as a dream come true. I’ve lived all my life cautiously: if something sounds too good to be true it’s either not as good as marketed or not true at all. If it’s dark and late and there are no people around, FaceTime someone. If your Uber driver’s sketchy, cancel the ride. I take all the precautions and I still find myself in the worst situations. Or at least...

My thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of my phone. A simple ringtone I hear every time he calls me. A simple sound that causes me butterflies when I hear it and ultimate devastation if the caller ID doesn’t read the name I want. It always gets me excited, probably more than it should. This time is different, however. It’s scary almost. I’m nervous, anxious, scared, hesitant - all things I never feel when I’m about to answer his call.

With shaky hands I pick up the call and find myself looking at the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Now I know why I would have never initiated this meeting, because I know what color my face is right now. I know my voice has let me down before I even attempt to speak. I know I look like a mess. I know my obvious crush is showing.

Corpse initiated this meeting. He said he was getting too curious and he wanted one of his best friends to see him and for him to finally see her. It’s been about seven months since we first started texting and I haven’t let out a single peep about it to a single soul. It’s just between him and I. We are each other’s safe space away from the rest of the world.

“Thought you weren’t gonna pick up for a second there.“ His voice is not as confident as other times when we’ve talked. His trying to hide his own nervousness and all I wanna do is hug him and tell him he doesn’t have to. I kept telling him over and over again that we don’t have to do this if he’s not sure that he actually wants it. I even offered to show him what I look like, not expecting to see him in return but he declined, saying it was now his turn to even the field.

“I was in another room.“ I manage to say, my voice only shaking a little.

We spend a few moments just looking at each other. Admiring one another. For someone who prefers digital interaction, I am surprised to realize I wish he was actually standing in front of. I wish I could hug him. A long hug of comfort, mutual understanding and hidden feelings.

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head which causes a few strands of hair to fall over his eyepatch, “I’m sorry...It’s just-...Fuck I’m stumbling.” He chuckles nervously, “I just...can’t believe you are real. You are a real person. And the most beautiful person I’ve seen. That’s corny, isn’t it.” He looks away from the screen, his face now a shade of red. “But I mean it. I’m embracing my corniness. You are beautiful, Y/N. Not that I’m flexing or anything, but I’m lucky to have met you.”

I laugh, feeling my eyes stinging from the tears that have suddenly formed. I don’t want to let them fall, but I don’t have much say in that. “Well, mister Corpse, I can’t begin to compare. I mean...that hair! I still cannot believe it’s you. You are not just a deep voice in my mind. You are....you are...”

“Everything you imagined and more?“ he jokes, making my whole body heat up. “I told you you could trust. I mean, if the hair doesn’t confirm I’m who I say I am, I don’t know what will.”

“Actually, I never tried to imagine what you looked like. I knew those visions...I knew they didn’t matter. Faces don’t matter to us, Corpse. I think you realize that.“

And just like that, all I’ve been keeping hidden is pouring out. I don’t try to stop it - you can’t stop a hurricane with bare hands.

“I never needed a face to imagine us. I always saw as talking on the phone, playing Among Us. Reading scary stories to each other on Discord. I never needed a face to imagine your company. To imagine what we could be...“ I trail off, letting the first tear slip down my cheek.

The most sincere look appears in his eyes, “Fuck, I wish I could hold your hand right now. Never mind, I wish I could hug you, Y/N. Hug you and not let go for a long time.”

I laugh halfheartedly, my chest burning from the intensity of this moment’s intimacy, “I can always tell you where I live.” I’m only half-joking. I really want to see him in real life, not just through a screen, but even this call is out of his comfort zone, let alone a physical meet up.

He surprises me yet again, “Saturday. I’ll bring the take out, you pick the movie.” he says with a smile that is literally saying ‘you didn’t see that coming, did you?’

“How are you sure I don’t live in a different state, or a different continent all together?“ I tease, making an attempt to put my composure back together.

He smirks, “I pay way more attention to your stories than you’d think.” I laugh, shaking my head as a pointless method of fighting the pesky tears that he has 100% noticed by this point. “By the way, just because we’re....” he thinks for a second, “in a weird zone between friendship and...something more, doesn’t mean you have to stop sending me stories. I absolutely love reading them for my audience. They love em too.”

I just realized I am yet to tell him the crazy miracle that has happened. “Well, the thing is...I don’t have any.” His eyebrows shoot up in shock which makes me laugh, “Yeah, I know, it’s crazy. Since the day we started talking I have not experienced a single scary thing. Deadass. I swear on my life.”

If I wasn’t so head over heels for this man already, the baffled expression on his face would definitely send me falling for him. He’s just that adorable. “Wow.”

“I know right.“ I nod, “Seems to me you have enough luck to share with me.“

His eyes light up at that comment, showing just how meaning full it is to him.

“You’re my lucky charm, Corpse.“

“I will never be more proud of any other title, Y/N. That I can promise you with no hesitation.“

“Deadass?“

“Deadass.“

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viviane-lefay · 2 years

Text

"She had an air of a queen but didn't hold the crown to back it up. The authority she carried was one she had made herself and bestowing a crown on her would do nothing more than add a fancy, yet useless, ornament to her. She was the first ghost King Boo had seen that didn't need a crown to hold the title of royalty."

Source

~*~

I really, really love that quote! It describes her so well.

Why, yes - she is a very lovely, elegant & regal spooky lady, and I'm quite sure that didn't escape the notice of her beloved monarch (as the respective fic I linked above so nicely illustrates).

Personally, I think he's just as enamoured by her as she is with him ... he's just not that good at admitting it. ;)

King Boo in the fic is so enchanted that he can't stop thinking about her, to the point that he's totally spaced out and loses touch with present reality (like, being called 11 times before even noticing, lol). If that isn't obsession on par with Hellen's ... well, then I don't know what is.

Frankly, I'm quite obsessed with her, too. I just love her design - it's very much my aesthetic! That mixture of Morticia Addams, Lily Munster, Frankenstein's Bride, Elvira, Emily from Corpse Bride, and some WoW Night Elf influence is just gorgeous!

Aside from that, I think she's an awesome character with a lot of potential. Oh, and she's a cat person, so what's not to love!? =)

~*~

Speaking of design & character interpretation, I thought I'd share some ideas and headcanons on that matter (although most of it is already established, given this isn't really a re-design, but merely my personal take on that, which already is).

~*~

Before I continue, a little clarification at first:

This is just about my personal opinion, interpretation & headcanon - and by no means lays a claim to general validity (nor does your POV, btw).

I have more of a pick & choose approach to fandom subjects, anyway, so I can customize the experience exactly according to my needs and wishes. This is fiction, after all - the realm of endless possibilities - where anything goes, and where there is a place for the preferences of all of us.

What this post, therefore, definitely is not, is an invitation for a debate regarding the “right” character interpretation, etc. - and all the potential drama that this might entail. If that is what you’re after, then I’d politely ask you to leave now, because all you are doing is wasting both of our time. Let’s just agree to disagree and move on, k!? I do my thing and you do you!

What I’m here for are mutuals.

I suppose, I made myself abundantly clear now!? Good.

~*~

Now on to the actual subject of this post:

—

The closest thing I have as a face-claim for Hellen would be a hybridization of Megan Fox, Carice van Houten, and Segovia Amil. (They have her characteristic features, such as a heart-shaped face with prominent cheekbones, a dainty nose, and these big, almond-shaped, almost feline-esque eyes. Aside from that, they also have her graceful and fine-boned, yet curvy and feminine built.)

[ BTW, here is a character moodboard I made with a pic of MF, who is my main influence for her look]

I imagine her to be quite a tall woman (5'11'')

her hair must be fairly long for her to be able to coif it into this huge bouffant style hairdo that she usually wears, so I decided ankle-length would be quite appropriate

although you can't see it, because her hair mostly covers this area - her ears are slightly pointy (I wanted at least some elven influence)

aside from the overall ghostly glow, her skin has a slightly iridescent shimmer about it - a little like being dusted by a finely powdered mixture of purple moonstone and amethyst (I'm talking about a natural property of her skin here, and not the powder she uses as a nervous habit of hers, which has a more mattifying effect)

—

The only thing I'd like to change a little, because I'm not happy with it, tbh, is her turning into this banshee-like form, once she loses it.

I'd much rather prefer it to be a "monstrous" form of a different kind - one not any less scary, but a little less unpleasant to look at.

Since she has this association with cats via her beloved Polterkitty, who apparently happens to be one of the cat-like yōkai (such as nekomata and bakeneko) you find in Japanese folklore, I would really like the thought of Hellen turning into a human version of such a creature when she's angry - a "were-cat" of sorts (with fangs & claws, and all that) ... like a Kyuubi-possessed Naruto, or Bruce Banner turning into the Hulk.

Why yes, that IS an appropriate comparison - she did a Hellen smash with her desk after all. There wasn't much left afterwards. So it is understandable that Luigi was scared, given she'd be able to make mincemeat out of somebody that way.

Bad for her opponent that she doesn't have any tails to remove, as a potential weakpoint, like Polterkitty does ... although I'm not entirely sure on that matter as yet (even if she did, it would be a quite risky, if not lethal, endeavour to remove one of those - Polterkitty was pretty fierce already, just imagine what Hellen could do ...).

As for the eyes turning red - that's fine, she can keep that.

That would be about it regarding the more visual design aspects.

~*~

Now on to some thoughts on her name (no changes here, of course, just a little interpretation) ...

I've already pointed out in another post, how interesting, and fitting, I find the mythological references you can see there - one quite obvious, as well as another, that is a little more obscure.

The more evident one is, of course, the reference to Helen of Troy, who is said to have been the most beautiful woman in the world (of this myth, i.e. the Iliad), and there also are close ties to the goddess Aphrodite.

Frankly, I think this totally applies to Hellen, too, considering how lovely she is. She is merely a spooky version of such a lady.

Then you can also find the goddess Hel hidden inside the name, which was pretty much the Germanic equivalent to Hades, being the ruler of the Netherworld (also called Hel, or Helheim) - so there is the spooky theme again ... and, perhaps, an explanation as to why (in the fic) King Boo perceived her as someone with "the air of a queen", something he never experienced before with anyone he met.

If you combine these two references, the result is a "Dark Venus Persephone" kind of being - a sublime beauty, with the power and dignity that would make her a true equal to the god of the Underworld himself (... and his perfect match =D).

Aside from that, it might also be interesting to mention that the word "hell", which can also be seen in her name, is said to be derived from, or at least related to, the word "hel", and, in contrast to the terrible meaning it has in the Abrahamic religions, the Germanic one describes a realm of a more neutral nature - despite being a rather gloomy place overall (btw, the location of her hotel seems to be located quite far in the "north", as you can clearly see the aurora polaris in the night sky).

So, I think, the same could be said of Hellen, too, as I, personally, do not see her as a bad person, but rather as one of a more ambiguous nature. Which side is seen ultimately depends on how she relates to the one she interacts with, which can be either good or bad, as she is seen to be fiercely loyal to the ones she loves, but also quite terrifying, if you get on her bad side (which is when you get to see the "hell" part).

Finally, coming to her last name "Gravely", which, of course, quite obviously refers to the word "grave", and thus to her spectral, other-worldly nature.

What I think it could also give insight into, however, is a facet of her personality, as "gravely" - or the verb "grave" - describes a state of being serious or solemn, thoughtful, and, perhaps, a little strict (she definitely has high standards and expectations, both regarding herself, as well as others) - traits I can definitely see in her, despite the rather dramatic side of hers that she shows more openly.

Anyway, that is what I could derive from the information that her name provides, plus my own perspective on it.

~*~

Besides Aphrodite, Persephone, and Hel, there are also some other goddesses who, I think, fit her symbolism-wise, and who inspired my interpretation of her:

Nut (Egyptian goddess of the Sky) - Hellen's beautiful indigo coloured hair reminds me of the night sky.

Bastet (Egyptian goddess of felines & sensual pleasures) - This, of course, I chose because of Hellen's association with cats, but there is also the affiliation with both moon and sun, which I also thought fitting, as I think Hellen's nature isn't just nocturnal, as her shining, golden eyes make me think of the early morning sun. There is also another aspect, tied to a headcanon I have of her, but I'll leave it at that, for now.

Sekhmet (Egyptian lion goddess of war) - A hint at my interpretation of her fiercer nature (aside from the Japanese inspiration).

Frigga (Norse goddess of the household & domestic arts, as well as marriage) - Since you could say that domestic arts are somewhat related to the hotel business, this is a goddess who reminded me of Hellen's hospitality and profession. The fact that Frigga also happens to be the queen of the Aesir also serves to both emphasize Hellen's position as the boss of this establishment, as well as her regal charisma (and what she is to King Boo imho ;D).

~*~

Other than that, the archetype of Virgo is quite a dominant feature of her personality, as you can definitely see the traits that are characteristic for this zodiac sign (perfectionism, attention to detail, conscientious, service-oriented, helpful, analytical, etc.). Then there are two other signs which are also heavily featured in her characterization, as secondary dominant influences (in equal measure) - Scorpio and Leo.

~*~

That is about it - for now.

Hope you like it.

#Hellen Gravely #Luigi's Mansion 3 #Nintendo #dollmaker #azalea's dolls #hellen gravely x king boo #king boo x hellen gravely #hellenboo #hellboo #headcanon #face claim #casting choice

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 3 years

Text

Being Human - Chapter 24 (END)

<= Chapter 23

Summary : Snatcher meets familiar people again Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/75085263

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(TW injury)

New chapter today, and it's actually the 24th and the 25th combined. It's 15 pages long, now.

I could only draw a picture for them both, so I supposed it was useless to keep you waiting for nothing. So, yeah, here's the ending of "Being Human". I hope you'll like it !

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings !

Uh if you’re interested, I post my progress on my chapters on Hatty Fan Time (the AHIT Discord server I’m moderating with two friends), so if you wanna join, go ahead !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 24 : “ Is… Is it over? ”

Snatcher was doing his best to walk down the hallways as quietly as he could. His ankle, while not broken anymore, was still giving him quite a lot of pain, so much that he was wincing at each new step. But he knew this was just temporary and that he needed to ignore the suffering for now: Vanessa was busy, sure, but for how long? She had said she would be baking cookies for him, and he knew very well that this wouldn’t last forever. This was his first and last chance of escaping: if she spotted him trying to leave, the child had no doubt she would lock him up again, perhaps in the cellar once more…- The young Prince shook his head and gulped down with difficulty. This definitely wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

Snatcher could feel and hear the floor creaking under his feet, forcing him to stop several times and listen closely. But thankfully, there was no sound indicating the Queen had heard him. Thank God. The child stopped in front of the door leading to the first floor- oh, he was not reassured, not in the slightest, he had the feeling this would not go well… As he was going to open the door, however, a light sound caught his attention, making him look at the window. A look of confusion crossed the young man’s features: there was nothing there, so what could have made such a nois- but then, his eyes spotted something: a little rock had been thrown onto the glass, making a small sound because of the impact. Detaching himself from the door, Snatcher made a few silent steps to the window… And his face lightened up with shock and surprise as he noticed a form floating above the window- no, two forms, actually.

Moonjumper and the hatted brat !

A feeling of hope grew inside of him, just as a wave of relief washed over him: they were alive! He had saved them! He really had managed to help them!

The child stepped closer to the window and reached for it, trying to open it- but in vain. The frame was deeply frozen, preventing anyone to open it, especially not a kid like him. He quickly stopped, as his attempts at opening it were quite… Noisy. It was getting really dangerous, and if he kept on trying, he was eventually going to alert Vanessa, which was definitely not what he wanted.

Moonjumper and the kid floated closer, a clear look of worry and confusion on their faces. The hatted girl gestured to the lock on the window, but Snatcher replied by shaking his head. It wasn’t locked, just… Frozen. He gave a concerned shrug, indicating he didn’t really know how to help them enter the manor. And, of course, they couldn’t really communicate vocally through the glass, as it was sure to be noticed by his ex. So that wasn’t a solution- until one hit him, making his eyes widen.

The attic.

Driven by a new motivation, the child pointed up, trying to make them understand his idea. The hatted brat seemed rather confused and frowned in reaction, trying to look up without understanding. However, the corpse seemed to get it and explained it to her- or so Snatcher believed. He couldn’t really hear them, so all he could do was to guess. In any case, his counterpart nodded to him, as a way to show him they had understood what he had meant to them. Not long after that, they started to float higher, indeed reaching the attic.

There was his escape plan !

Fueled by a new motivation, especially now that he knew his friends were alive, the former ghost turned away from the window, a new objective in mind. Still doing his best to remain discreet, Snatcher walked the other way, making his way to the attic rather than to the first floor. He was particularly on edge, especially when it came to his own footsteps on the floor, and to the creaking of the parquet floor under his weight. When he reached the door leading upstairs, he kept praying for it to be unlocked, oh, he prayed so much- and when the doorknob actually let itself be lowered, thus opening the door… A huge feeling of relief hit the young Prince one more time.

Oh, thank God…

Looking behind him, just to make sure the Queen hadn’t come upstairs to see if he was still in the nursery… He eventually climbed up the stairs, not forgetting to close the door slowly in his back. This was it, there was no turning back now.

Snatcher soon reached the attic door and opened it, his vision greeted by the sight of an old, forgotten room. But the former ghost didn’t lose any time in looking around- there was no time for that. All he needed to do now, was to find a way to let the other two-

Speaking of the devil, Snatcher spotted their floating silhouette right in front of the central window. However, it was safe to assume than opening any of the window here would be complicated. After all, none of them had locks to begin with, so even if they weren’t as frozen, they couldn’t be opened either way.

That… He hadn’t thought of that, exactly. All he had thought about was to get farther away from Vanessa, which worked in that case. But he still couldn’t leave like this… As for Moonjumper and the hatted brat, the two were inspecting each window, trying to find one that could be opened easily, in vain. Snatcher stepped closer to the central window, the gears in his mind turning to find a solution. This was… Not going the way he wanted to, he had to admit that much. His eyes met the others’, and they both came to the same conclusion.

Leaving the manor this way wouldn’t-

Snatcher’s thoughts were instantly interrupted as a tremor shook him and the room, making him stumble to the wooden floor. He cried in pain as it only hurt his already injured ankle, but before he was even able to realize what was going on, a loud, piercing scream echoed in the whole manor. Immediately, the young Prince’s expression fell, only to be replaced with panic.

Vanessa.

As on cue, the former ghost heard her muffling yelling in the floor below- oh God, she had heard him!

-“Where are you?!” shouted the Queen, her tone clearly showing how livid she was, and the sound of her voice making the house shake even more. Oh no, no, no, no, no! Behind the window, Moonjumper and the brat’s face paled up just like his did, and it was obvious they had heard her too. Oh, crap, no, he needed to be out of here!

Not thinking anymore, the child ran to the window, pounding on it as hard he could, feeling dread spreading inside of him as he could hear Vanessa’s furious steps coming closer and closer.

-“Get me out of here!” he yelled through the glass, to his friends on the other side, fear more and more audible in his voice than ever: “Help me!” Tears started to fill his eyes, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he was in a child’s body or if it was because he was genuinely terrified.

Behind the glass, Moonjumper seemed to be just as scared as him, and was scratching at the glass, even pounding on it all while still holding the hatted kid. The latter seemed to be more than nervous, looking for a solution too, until… Her face lit up, as if she just had had an epiphany. The young Prince saw her shouting something at the corpse, pointing at the window at the same time. What was she suggesting? But as he was asking himself that question, Snatcher saw the two of them floating away from the window- no, no, no! They weren’t leaving him here, weren’t they ?! They couldn’t do that, they couldn’t abandon him!

-“Come back!!” he yelled, and now tears were rolling down his cheeks, sobs cutting his breathing short: “Don’t leave me here!” He pounded on the glass harder, despair filling him whole. No, this couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening!

His cries intensified as Vanessa’s steps could be heard just behind the door, and suddenly, he froze. The footsteps had stopped. He looked back at the door in utter terror and saw the door slowly opening, a claw being the first thing he saw coming out of it.

-“I told you…” her tone was low and threatening, and the child span around, horrified. Oh no, no, no- : “… That there would be consequences…” And little by little, the old Queen’s body appeared in the room, her dark aura even more visible than ever, her claws sharper, and her eyes murderous.

Oh no, he was going to die, he was so going to die, he-

-“Snatcher!” The former ghost’s terrified inner-rambling was put to an end as he heard his name being called out behind him, and he glanced back, recognizing the brat’s voice- didn’t they leave, though…? However, his eyes widened as he saw the hat-wearing child being carried by Moonjumper on his shoulders, both at a distance from the window, and what caught his attention was… That she was not wearing her usual hat.

She was wearing another one, one that was familiar because he had seen her wearing in his forest, when she was ransacking the tombs in Subcon For- and before his mind had the time to finish that sentence, a glowing potion materialized in the kid’s hand, and she shook it while urging him to move with the other.

The young Prince didn’t waste any more time and ran to the side, hiding behind a nearby crate not to feel the explosion, and he covered his ears. But just before he was able to, the Queen’s voice echoed in the room, giving him chills.

-“I saw you!” she yelled at him, as if she hadn’t noticed the two outside- but it was most likely the case, as her mind seemed to be only focused on him, and only him… Which was not reassuring in the slightest, obviously.

-“Come here this instan-” And then, her shout was cut short by an explosion, and Snatcher just curled up more, crying out in fear as the whole floor shook again and as he heard the loud and deafening sound of the detonation. Glass and wood flew everywhere, shattering and breaking at their impact to the floor. Panicked, the former ghost glanced back at the window that had just been exploded- and his eyes widened as he saw his two friends entering the room through the large hole caused by the explosion.

Another wave of relief hit him once more, contrasting greatly with the spike of fear he had felt earlier- Snatcher felt like his heart was riding a very, very intense roller-coaster. As soon as the hatted child spot him, hidden behind the crate, her expression instantly turned into worry, and she dashed to him, soon placing herself in a position to defend him should Vanessa decide to attack them first. She had taken out her umbrella, ready to fight with all of her might, determination visible on her face. As for Moonjumper, the corpse was summoning countless strings, preparing himself for an imminent fight. His face looked nothing like what Snatcher had seen before, it was full of anger, of bravery, of courage… But also full of fear. His hands were trembling, his eyes were fixed on the Queen, while many memories of Snatcher’s past life seemed to be blinding him, forcing him to relive past moments that weren’t even his in the first place.

And yet Moonjumper was still ready to fight despite this.

-“You…” The Queen’s voice was full of hatred as she recognized the duo she had frozen earlier. Her intonation definitely had an impact on them, as they both faltered for a few moments- and he couldn’t blame them for it.

He knew what it was like to be frozen to death.

-“You… You will not hurt anyone else,” Moonjumper trembling voice echoed in the room, and it was now clear that he was scared to no end, though he was still trying to appear brave. Whether it was bluff or not, Snatcher couldn’t tell… But he really hoped it wasn’t.

-“Yeah, back off!” added the brat, lifting her umbrella as a way to show she was not kidding. Then again, the former spirit couldn’t help but wonder if they really had a chance against someone who had already frozen them all at least once.

Vanessa glared at them, her eyes glancing to each other, as if she were trying to determine who, out of the trio, was the biggest threat to her. And, unsurprisingly… Her survival instincts told her to attack Moonjumper first. Screaming in absolute anger, she stomped her feet on the wooden floor, summoning ice all around her and, more precisely, a series of ice stalagmites which she quickly sent to her enemy’s direction.

-“Moonjumper!” yelled Snatcher, extending his hand to the corpse, only to be held back by the hatted brat, preventing him from getting himself hurt. Fortunately, the body-stealing spirit had been expecting her to target him first, and dodged her attack, though one of the stalagmites nearly touched him. Thank God it hadn’t. The corpse was quick to react though and counter-attacked, throwing all of the strings he had prepared to her. Taken aback by his sudden retaliation, the Queen was too slow to move before the strings actually caught her, Moonjumper quickly tightening the grip around them.

But this couldn’t be so simple.

Another scream left Vanessa’s mouth and soon enough, she turned the strings into ice, her magic rapidly going up the corpse’s strings and thus soon reaching him- until the hat-wearing brat intervened, hitting the strings with her umbrella, deflecting the spell to her umbrella instead, which she immediately let go of with a surprised cry.

Now that the trio was distracted with the current turn of event, the Queen broke free of the strings holding her, the ice having made them easy to break. No, this was not good, they had to find a solution… But Moonjumper’s strings were their best bet! Fighting hand-to-hand was not possible, all they could do was fighting her from afar, if they didn’t want to end up frozen to death. His eyes looked around, trying to find an idea, something they would be able to use to gain an advantage against that monster. The crates, no, the chandelier, no, too heavy to make it fall down and too large to be useful… And his eyes fell onto the huge gap in the floor and the wall, caused by the previous explosion. His eyes widened, an idea growing in his mind.

Maybe… Maybe they could be able to use that!

In the meantime, the fight had continued, and the corpse was still trying to immobilize her with his strings- but this wasn’t the right option, this wouldn’t work like this! The woman was always managing to break free. And so, as soon as Vanessa’s attention was at the lowest, the young Prince took this as an opportunity to call out to Moonjumper without putting him too much at risk:

-“The- the hole, lead her to the hole!” he shouted, using both of his hands as a way to make his voice louder. The corpse gave him a quick and confused glance, as if he were trying to understand what Snatcher had in mind- until his eyes widened, realization crossing his features. He had gotten the message.

Not wasting any more time, the corpse changed his tactic and instead of trying to keep her trapped and motionless… He tried to pull her closer to the window, floating back more and more. Of course, the Queen was always managing to get free with her powers, but she was still being slowly led to the huge gap in the floor. The corpse was immensely focused on the fight, doing everything he could to avoid her stalagmites- but his focus and his unbelievable calm was winning over Vanessa’s screaming and aggressive attitude- her attacks were having the same patterns, she was not thinking strategically when trying to hit Moonjumper… On the contrary, Snatcher had to admit she was being predictable, and while she couldn’t be kept trapped in the other’s strings for too long, Snatcher’s strategy was working little by little.

When she reached the gap, her eyes had widened, as if she was only understanding now what the trio had in mind. With another deafening scream, Vanessa created an ice path under her feet, like a bridge above everything, above… Nothing, above the void under her feet. No matter how hard Moonjumper was pulling on her, she was not loosing her balance and she kept on creating ice under her feet, although… Now she was looking to escape much more than actually attacking any of them. Her expression was not just livid anymore- no, there were some worry and fear in it too, now.

They had to take the matter in their own hand, now! Moonjumper had already done much more than Snatcher would have asked of him considering his same fear of her- and now it was his time to help.

Ignoring the pain in his ankle, the child dashed to the frozen umbrella the hatted brat had abandoned on the floor, and picked it up, not caring about the ice partially trapping it- no, this didn’t matter. What he was about to do, however… Mattered much, much more.

-“Snatcher!” he heard the little girl calling him out- but he didn’t stop.

No, this had to stop. Now.

Fueled by a new energy and by adrenaline, the former ghost ran onto the ice platform Vanessa had created… And he charged at his ex-lover, holding the umbrella before him and using him as a spear. He felt his borrowed weapon hit something, and he knew it was her- and almost instantly, a cry of fear and surprise left the Queen’s mouth… And the impact made her lose her balance, her body falling backward as she tried to turn back… But it was too late.

He had done it, he had managed to-

But things never, ever were that easy, were they?

-“Snatcher !!” His friends’ voice echoed behind him, panic clearly audible as the woman made a last movement as an attempt to save herself from her fall- she had grabbed Snatcher’s arm and was now taking him with her, bringing him with her for what was going to be her death… And the young Prince’s.

And now, they were both falling.

Snatcher had thought about dying again, multiple times, actually. Being stuck in his this human body definitely had him wonder a lot of things such as “if I die, would I become a ghost again? Would I just go to wherever souls go when no one eats them?” There had been no way to know, and still wasn’t. The doubt actually prevented him from trying to put an end to his human life and see what happened afterwards. However, now… It wasn’t doubt that was making Snatcher fear death. No…

That was the fear of actually dying, mixed with the fear of losing all the sensations he had become accustomed to, even though it took him so long. Sure, there were plenty of unwanted senses he disliked, but… Was it really worth losing all of it? Even the good ones? Like the feeling of a warm shower, the feeling of lying down on a pile of soft pillows, the feeling of tasting things, even bad things…

Did he really want to just not feel anything at all? It had felt so overwhelming when he had recovered all of his senses, but now, the thought of losing everything was… Just as crushing.

And so… That was why Snatcher was terrified, terrified as his body was falling to his demise, taken with Vanessa. Her claws were gripping at his arm tightly, freezing his clothes and skin, making him cry out in pain. His breath quickened while he felt the cold air outside scratching his cheeks from how fast they were falling.

He didn’t want to die…!

The young Prince started to kick her, trying everything he could to do get away from her- but what was the point if they were both going to die by crashing themselves to the ground?

-“Let me go!” he shouted, his voice hysterical and his expression both panicked and livid: “Let-let go of me!”

-“N-no!” retorted the Queen, and the child could see frozen tears leaving her eyes as well as a despaired expression on her face: “I don’t want to!!”

She tried to hold him tighter in her arms, bringing him for a hug- No, no, no, he didn’t want this, he didn’t want this! The kid kept trying to hit her, his fear growing more and more as they both got closer and closer to the ground- he didn’t want to die! Not like this, not anymore!

Snatcher shut his eyes hard, readying himself for the impact, for the death he had wanted so much and yet didn’t want anymore, for the confirmation of whether he’d come back as a ghost or not, this was not fair, this was not fair…!

The young Prince let out a startled scream when he felt something slipped under his arms, pulling him up and abruptly stopping his fall. Snatcher reopened his eyes instantly- Moonjumper! The corpse had hurled himself towards his small counterpart, barely saving him from his death and quickly trying to float back up again or, at the very least, slow down his dangerous fall.

Vanessa, on the other hand, was not being held by anyone and, thus, her claws severely scratching the child’s arms as she attempted to save herself, but her own weight dragged her down. A loud, painful scream left Snatcher lips as he felt his skin being torn open by her long, sharp claws… But soon enough, his eyes saw her falling down, falling to her death, while Moonjumper was now holding him still in the air, floating. And soon enough… A muffled sound echoed up to them, with the Queen crashed into the snow, creating a flurry of snow around her.

-“Are… Are you okay ?!” the corpse managed to say, panic clearly audible in his tone of voice, his eyes inspecting the young prince, and widening when he noticed the gaping wound on the other’s arm: “O-oh, Goodness, we better… Oh, my God…”

Snatcher only replied by a long hiss, feeling the snowflakes falling onto his injury- oh, that hurt so much…! Tears came back in his eyes, stinging the skin in the corners from how cold it was. Blood was leaking from his arm, falling down near where Vanessa’s body lied down. With a very concerned expression, Moonjumper quickly floated lower and lower, in order to bring them back to the ground. A movement in Snatcher’s vision caught the latter’s attention, and he glanced in that direction, his mind clearly in a state of shock, ready to react to the littlest threat- but what he saw was the hat-wearing brat, watching them from the attic. It was a bit hard to see her clearly because of the distance and the blizzard, but the former ghost was almost sure he saw her putting her hand where her heart was, seemingly sighing in relief.

Yeah… Yeah, he could definitely relate to that…

The young Prince jumped when he finally felt the ground under his feet, letting out a startled cry from how shocked he was. Slowly, ever so slowly, Moonjumper loosened his grip on him, only for Snatcher to fall to his knees, unable to stand up in his state. Around him, the snow was starting to get a reddish hue due to the blood falling and leaking on it, staining it.

-“H-hey…!” The corpse tried to help him get back to his feet, in vain. He had just experienced a near-death experience, how could he stand up again so easily?! His eyes looked around and… Noticed a dark spot in the snow.

Vanessa.

The child stared at her, afraid she’d get up again, ready to attack them again, ready to kill them all- But she wasn’t moving.

-“Is… Is it over?” he breathed out, unable to look away from the old Queen, his fear preventing from doing so.

-“I… I think so, yes,” Moonjumper floated lower, down to his level, his voice calmer and yet his nervousness was still very much there.

A loud noise suddenly caught the duo’s attention, making them lift their head to see what it was- and as much as Snatcher had expected quite a lot of things… Seeing the spaceship flying above their head was not one of these things. That… That was where the bow-wearing kid was! She hadn’t been there in the group’s rescue mission, and it made sense that at least someone had to stay in the ship in case things turned sour.

Not so long after that, the front door of the manor opened abruptly, revealing the hatted brat, soon dashing in their direction.

-“Snatcher!” she called out to him, stopping in front of him and almost slipping from how fast she was running. Her eyes noticed his injury and instant worry appeared on her features: “Oh, peck, are you okay?!”

The child took a moment to pull himself together- this was a lot to take in after all.

-“I… I don’t know,” he gasped, and now that the adrenaline was slowly dying down, the pain was getting much, much stronger. Wincing, Snatcher tried to move his arm, only to whine at the sensation. Yeah, that was not happening… And he was bleeding quite a lot too- oh, no, no, this was not good, was it…?

Another weird, high pitched sound caught their attention, this time behind them. The former ghost turned his head back, not knowing what it was- until he saw a beam of light coming from the spaceship to the ground, a silhouette quickly appearing where the light was touching the snow. The other kid! Even though he knew she had to be safe, considering Vanessa had forgotten about her when she brought the young Prince home, he was… Really happy to see her safe, now. However, something else caught his attention.

She was holding the Time Piece again.

Not wasting any more time, the other joined the trio, reacting the exact same way as the rest of the group did at the sight of Snatcher’s injury. Then again… He had no idea how bad it was, but from the look of everyone else, he could guess that it was… Not good.

-“Is… Is she…?” the bow-wearing child pointed to the Queen’s body, still not moving, except for her shadows, carried away by the wind.

-“I… I’m not sure,” Snatcher confessed, still very much afraid to see her getting up- but she wasn’t.

The group remained silent for a moment, staring at what now seemed to be a corpse- And Snatcher couldn’t help but stand up, his stance unstable and his legs trembling both from the blood loss and from how shaken he still was.

-“W-wait, what are you doing?” called out the hatted brat behind him. Moonjumper also tried to get his attention, his tone much more nervous than the little girl’s. The bow-wearing kid, however, remained silent, paralyzed by the fear of what he was trying to do.

Not listening to the group’s advice to sit back down, not to approach Vanessa, as they didn’t know if she was still alive yet- but he didn’t care. And so, silently if not for the sound of his boots in the snow, the young Prince stopped in front of his ex, looking at her with a deep expression of regret on his face. So this was the end of the story, then? The end of a tale that had lasted for many centuries, of a horrifying nightmare that had caused the death of so many people?

Was that it?

The young Prince jumped a bit when the Queen slowly opened her eyes, afraid she would be ready to fight again- but she didn’t move. Instead… She merely smiled at him, that same smile he had loved for years, that same smile from the person he wanted to marry so many years ago- and before he could realize it, his heart started to ache, his mind filled with bitterness.

-“Oh… Hello,” she greeted him, with a tone that was so familiar, much too familiar- and Snatcher’s face hardened, countless of memories blinding him as they came back to him, almost hitting him like a wave.

This was… Not a good ending for him- a good ending would have been to solve their problems before she caused the freezing, would have been to prevent the deaths of everyone- but this? This was a bittersweet ending.

This wasn’t the ending Snatcher wanted, but in the end… This was the only one he could get.

The light in Vanessa’s eyes became dimmer and dimmer as seconds passed and, soon, the former ghost just knew she had passed away, taking with her the threat she had always represented to Subcon Forest. Now… Now, the forest would be safe again.

-“Sna… Snatcher?” the bow wearing child called out to him again, and when he turned back to her… His cheeks started to sting- he was crying now. Tears, countless of them, were rolling down his cheeks and he couldn’t stop, the emotions flooding his mind, so much that it needed to get out somehow- Sobs started to leave his mouth… Before his legs gave up from the blood loss. Before anyone was able to react, the young Prince fell into the snow, mentally and physically exhausted. The group gathered around him, worry and fear visible on their features. Oh.

Was… Was this going to be it? Was this… The end? His end?

His thoughts were cut short when the bow-wearing kid lifted his hand, putting inside it a cold yet familiar object- the Time Piece.

-“Qu-quick!” she urged him, her face deadly pale: “I… I fixed it while you were fighting her! It’ll save you, but you need to break it and wish to become a ghost again!”

-“Hurry!” the hatted brat insisted, trying to hide her worry behind a mask of determination.

Was… Was it really what he wanted? To come back as a ghost, unable to feel a single thing, good or bad? To remain here for eternity and see the world change without him? To take care of a Forest that no longer needed protection? Was this really what he truly, truly wanted? To live in the past forever?

Snatcher winced at the thought.

He… Wasn’t so sure about becoming a ghost again. He had wanted this so much before, but now… Now, something didn’t feel right about this. Was Vanessa’s death the reason for that? Or had he thought this way for a while, just… Being in denial about all of this?

How could he know? What should he do?

-“Wh-what are you waiting for!” urged Moonjumper, and soon, the kids started to shake him lightly, fearing he would lose consciousness from his injuries, if not worse.

All he wanted… All he wanted was…

Slowly, much too slowly for the taste of the group… The former shade lifted the hand holding the Time Piece, ready to smash it to the ground.

-“I wish to be happy,” he murmured, before finally smashing the hourglass down.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-______________________________-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-“And then, add a bit of salt- yes, just like that!”

The voice of Cooking Cat could be heard in the kitchen of the spaceship, alongside sounds of something cooking in the background, sizzling on a frying pan. Next to her, a young man was standing up, his right hand holding the tool and the left one putting down a cup of salt. Once done, he grabbed the spatula on the nearby counter and started to move the ingredients around inside of the pan, intensifying all the crackling caused by their cooking.

-“Am… Am I doing fine?” he asked, wincing as he was receiving a few splashes, to the point he was tempted to step back- but he knew better than to do that. Cooking Cat seemed to notice his discomfort and came to her friend’s rescue, covering the frying pan with its lid and then lowering the temperature of the gas stove.

The young man couldn’t help but give an awkward and frustrated smile- well, at least, the food wasn’t burnt -yet-, so there was that!

-“You’re improving day after day,” assured the bipedal cat with a warm expression: “You’ll see, someday you won’t even need me anymore to cook for the girls!” she gave him a friendly tap on the back, though perhaps a bit too strong for the thin man, who stumbled a bit.

-“I doubt that,” he answered, before using an familiar sarcastic tone: “I mean, unless you all want me to burn the ship down, of course. That, I can do!”

The Cat snorted and shook her head, though not out of disapproval.

-“You’re underestimating yourself, you know?” she retorted, a bit amused by his previous words: “It’s only been a few months and you’ve made quite a lot of progress. You might not be the best cook in the world right now, but credit where it’s due, now you can make things that are edible!”

-“Oh man, what an improvement! ‘Poisonous’ to ‘barely digestible’! When do I open a restaurant?” he mocked her, but there wasn’t any real animosity, just friendly teasing… To which he received a light punch on the arm:

-“Oh, hush, you,” she snickered: “You know what I mean!”

The two laughed for a bit, and eventually washed their hands, waiting for the food to finish cooking. They kept doing some small talk as they tidied the kitchen a little bit, cleaning and putting back in cupboards all the tools they had needed to prepare the next meal, which smell was slowly invading the room.

Yeah, he had to admit that at least… Well, the smell was good enough to make him hungry, something that hadn’t been possible a few months back.

The duo’s attention was caught by the door opening, revealing the hatted brat, the bow-wearing kid, and Moonjumper, who had started to wear new clothes, clothes that fitted him and his personality much better.

-“Hey, the food’s not ready yet,” the young man taunted them, giving them a shooing gesture: “Come on, away with you!”

-“Can’t we have at a least a bit?” tried to bargain the bow-wearing girl, putting her hands on her stomach as if she hadn’t eaten anything for the past two weeks- and of course, she was imitated by her older friend: “We’re starving!”

-“Yeah, Snatcher, don’t be such a peck-ne-”

-“Language!” the word came from both Cooking Cat and Moonjumper, who floated closer to Snatcher- although it was clear that from the two of them, the bipedal Cat was the one having the more authority. Perhaps she was kind of like a mother-figure, or at least, that’s what the young man couldn’t help but think of her and what her aura seemed like.

-“Fiiine,” grunted the hatted brat, sighing with exaggeration, before giving the cook the look of a nice and innocent kid in dire need of something: “We’re super hungry though,” she repeated and, as on cue, a gurgling sound echoed in the room, causing everyone to stop talking. Eventually, the bow-wearing child giggled with embarrassment and looked away.

-“Y-yeah, we are,” she confirmed, and Cooking Cat just snorted in response. She moved to one of the cupboards and grabbed three plates and silverware, soon handing them to the little, impatient girls.

-“Listen, let’s set the table, and then we’ll eat, alright?” she told them, and it barely took the kids a couple of seconds to grab all of it and running away with it to the living room.

-“Hey, no running with the knifes!” Snatcher called them out, but all he heard were carefree giggles. Ugh. Kids. And yet, he was smiling.

Cooking Cat snorted again, shaking her head with a warm grin, before glancing at the other two :

-“I better go and help them,” she told Snatcher and Moonjumper: “I mean, not that they’re unable to set the table, but. You know.”

-“Yeah, we don’t want any injury, I got it. I’ll take care of the food in the meantime,” he assured, returning her smile with his own, and leaning against one of the kitchen counters. The Cat thanked him and left the room, leaving the young man and the corpse alone. Snatcher soon got back to work and prepared a few crudités for the first course. Somehow, there was some kind of tension in the room, and that was probably due to the fact that Moonjumper hadn’t followed their friend to help the kids. The silence went on for a few more seconds, and… Yeah, there was definitely something.

-“Anything on your mind?” asked the young man casually, glancing at him briefly while he was cutting the vegetables, doing his best to remain focused on the task at hand- not wanting any injury also applied to him. There were quite a few scars on the former Prince’s fingers, due to him not being careful enough while cutting food. After all, not only had he never cooked for a few centuries as a ghost, but he had never really cooked anything while being alive either… Being part of a royal family had its pros and cons after all.

The corpse seemed to be lost in thought, only to jump slightly at Snatcher’s voice, coming back to reality. Moonjumper looked away, scratching his arm in embarrassment:

-“Am I that obvious?” he asked, an awkward smile on his face.

-“Frankly?” the man raised his eyebrow, before giving the other a smug grin: “You have no idea.”

The two snorted, and it did indeed make the tension go away, if only a little. Snatcher knew something was up, and he waited for his friend to make the first step, not wanting to rush anything. If there was anything being human taught him again, it was being patient. Well… Among a lot of other things, of course. And soon enough… This proved to be the right choice, as Moonjumper spoke once more, giving the former Prince a more serious look:

-“Are you… Are you okay?” was his question, and Snatcher was quite taken aback by it, not really expecting something like this. To be fair, he had thought this would be about Subcon, who was now primarily handled by the corpse, though Snatcher did visit quite a lot. This could have also been about the girls or anything like that, really… But him?

Now that was something he hadn’t seen coming.

The young man’s face showed his surprise and confusion, and he quickly put his attention back on his cutting work. No need to cut a finger because he wasn’t attentive enough… Still:

-“Wh- Yeah, I am?” he replied, puzzled by this sudden question: “Why?”

Moonjumper remained silent for a moment, to the point Snatcher thought this conversation would end here- but the other proved him wrong:

-“It’s just that… You wanted to become a ghost again so much, a few months back,” admitted his counterpart with a wince: “And yet, while you had the opportunity to make this happen, you… Didn’t.”

He paused for a few seconds, as if he were looking for the right words, as if he were walking on eggshells- well, it was a figure of speech, given his lack of legs. In any case…

-“I guess, I just… I just wanted to know if you were fine with it.”

Snatcher stopped his cutting work, his stare lost into space. Yeah, he could see where that was coming from… To be fair, his old self would have probably screamed at him, not understanding why he was still a human despite getting the opportunity to change that, despite getting the chance he had waited for since the moment he woke up in that body.

In that body which reminded him of so many things, some good and some… Bad, very bad. And so, he wasn’t really surprised to see this question coming, especially from Moonjumper, who, well… Shared quite a lot of memories with him, even if they still weren’t the same person. If there was anyone in the world knowing him the best, it was the corpse, no doubt about that.

… Which meant quite a lot, being asked this question by his counterpart.

-“You know… If I had gotten the possibility to turn back into what I used to be when it happened…” started Snatcher, referring to the moment he had been turned into a human, months ago: “… Then I’m pretty sure I’d have taken that opportunity without hesitation.”

-“… So what changed?” retorted the other, though there was no judgment in his tone of voice- just pure curiosity and a lot of concerns.

-“I guess…” the man stopped to think, sighing again, before continuing, his face full of regret: “You know, back there, when I… When I almost died,” he managed to say, his body starting to shake from the emotion and from the memories. Snatcher was… Still trying to ignore them, but despite this, he remained haunted by them, haunted by what had happened, by what could have happened to him and to his friends.

The corpse nodded, silently and gently nudging him into talking once more.

-“I… I realized that I… Didn’t really want to die?” he wondered to himself, having done his best not to think about that whole thing until now, and he shrugged, though it was visible that this was clearly upsetting him: “I just… Understood that if I were to die again, even if I came back as a ghost I would just… Not be able to feel anything at all, you know?”

He glanced back to Moonjumper, and he mindlessly started to rub the counter with his hands, as if he were enjoying the sense of touch for the last time, contemplating what could have been if he had indeed died again that day.

-“That kinda scared me,” he admitted, this time with a frown, because being afraid was still something he didn’t like saying: “And after Vanessa’s death, I guess that I felt… Guilty, but also better? As if, there wasn’t that weight on my shoulder anymore, right? And so… So when Bow gave me the Time Piece, I… Hesitated.”

He couldn’t help but scoff at the idea, now.

-“That’s stupid, right?”

Moonjumper seemed surprised by his words, and he titled his head to the side, confused and a little worried:

-“What do you mean?” asked the other, frowning too.

-“That… That I basically let that hourglass decide.”

-“Oh.”

Realization crossed the corpse’s features and he looked away, maybe feeling foolish for that dumb question. But to Snatcher, it wasn’t one, really. A few minutes passed in pure silence, and Snatcher got back to his cutting work. It took a little while before Moonjumper gathered the courage to speak again, visibly concerned for his friend:

-“And so… Are you happy?” he asked, making a reference to the wish Snatcher had made back then, when he was dying. The memory made the young man wince, and he couldn’t help but clench his fists, doing his best not to let his mind getting overwhelmed at the traumatizing recollection.

But this was a good question. Was he happy? Was he, really? It was quite hard to answer… How could he know? His old lives, as a Prince and as a soul-stealing ghost, were so different than this one that it was barely comparable. However… However, he couldn’t deny how miserable he had felt sometimes, as a spirit guarding Subcon Forest. But now…? While he still had nightmares, and while sensations were still a bit strong… Vanessa wasn’t a threat to Subcon and its inhabitants anymore, he felt free for the first time in centuries, not shackled to a place in order to protect it, no- he was really, truly free. Furthermore…

Snatcher had two people to care about now.

-“You know, it’s not so bad,” he eventually replied, a smile starting to appear on the corner of his lips.

-“What is?”

The young man turned his head to his friend, his smile widening, even though his expression still showed some regrets:

-“Being Human.”

The corpse fell silent, but eventually returned his smile, visibly satisfied with the answer. The duo’s attention were brought back to reality as a smell of something burning started to float in the room-

-“Oh fu- peck!” the former prince cursed as he turned off the gas stove, quickly removing the frying pan and putting it on the kitchen counter. His face fell when he noticed the meal had burnt- again. Next to him, Moonjumper was trying his best not to laugh, leading the young man to glare at him. Instantly, the corpse looked away innocently, whistling- ugh, that guy.

Snatcher looked at the burnt meal with frustration, and he rubbed his eyes- Yeah, he was getting tired of himself quite a lot, when it came to cooking. Nonetheless, he took a deep breath, and picked the frying pan again, while Moonjumper, still giggling, grabbed the plates of crudités. Both left the kitchen, and Snatcher lifted the pan for everyone to see, announcing loudly and comically:

-“Soooo, who wants some burnt food?”

A loud series of boo welcomes him, as well as some “again??”s, making him snicker in reaction… But yeah.

Being Human wasn’t so bad.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Thank you for following me this far, I hope you liked this story ! My next fanfiction, still on AHIT, is a WIP for now. I hope you'll like it too. See you soon !

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rainbow-shine · 3 years

Text

i'll never wear your broken crown, but in this twilight our choices seal our fate

An alternative s4 in where Dean has powers and that changes everything and nothing. Dedicated to @wormstacheangel and inspired by this headcanon.

It started with little things.

So little that Sam wouldn't have noticed them had it not been for the fact that he couldn't help but look at his brother like a hawk lately, partly to comfort himself that he had Dean back and partly to make sure his brother wouldn't find out about his extracurricular activities.

Dean doesn’t gets hurt anymore.

Sam felt his heart stop inside his chest when he entered the kitchen at Bobby's house and found Victor's ghost with his hand embedded in Dean's chest. With a swift movement Sam fired, the ghost disappeared and Dean fell to the ground.

Completely unharmed.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked either way. Dean gave him an unimpressed look before saying no.

The thing was, Sam had seen Olivia's corpse, had seen the corpses of the rest of the hunters. Right now Dean should be bleeding to death on the floor, his heart ripped from his chest, but instead he was just catching his breath like he'd just taken a good hit.

Sam, at that time, thought it was a fluke.

But it kept happening.

They had a dangerous job and the threat of the apocalypse only made the monsters worse, but Dean was always unharmed. Not a single mark stained his body and the times something or someone managed to hurt him, those wounds always disappeared in less than a day.

"You test him, right?" Sam whispered to Bobby, as soon as Dean went to buy something for dinner and Sam stayed with the excuse of researching something on a new book.

"Who?"

"Dean," Sam clarified. “After he was resurrected”.

"Of course I test him, Sam," Bobby hissed. “Do you think I'm stupid?”

"No, it's just…" Sam stopped speaking, realizing that his arguments at the moment would sound more like conspiracies. The fact that Dean was apparently untouchable wasn't exactly a bad thing.

"What?" Bobby asked sharply.

"Nothing," Sam replied, quickly coming up with an excuse. “It's just that I feel like there's something different about him”.

"Sam, your brother just came back from hell. Literal hell,” Bobby exclaimed slightly condescending. “His mind is trying to process a trauma that, as far as I know, no one has ever experienced. You can't expect him to be the same as before, because he won't be”.

"I know, Bobby."

"Then stop complaining".

So Sam stopped. After all, Dean was still Dean and the fact that nothing could hurt him was just one more reason for Sam to do everything he could so that nothing that could reach him.

•●•

The first time Dean went to sleep after being rescued from hell, in the uncomfortable but familiar couch in Bobby's house, he dreamed of a light.

A light so bright that he felt it might be able to melt his eyes out of his sockets, but at the same time it was warming a part of him that always seemed to be cold.

A light that was comforting and gentle. A light that meant love and salvation.

That night, in an abandoned barn in Illinois, Dean knew that he hadn't been dreaming at all.

•●•

When he was a kid and dad decided to start taking Dean on hunts, Sam used to kneel by his bedside and pray that god would keep his brother safe.

After Jess appeared nailed to the ceiling and their apartment was consumed by flames, Sam began to pray for forgiveness.

The day Dean was dragged to hell Sam stopped praying, because he knew that no one was listening to him.

But then Dean was saved. Dean was saved by an angel and Sam felt his faith restored. How he couldn’t have faith when an angel had achieved what he had been trying to do for months?

But apparently Sam Winchester couldn't have good things, because again his faith was destroyed and the angels, as Dean had said, were nothing more than dicks with wings.

The boy with the demon blood.

The curse Azazel left on him and the only chance they had to truly stop Lilith.

There was fear in Dean's eyes.

And that hurt so much more than anything the angels could have told him.

His powers were a curse, but he had stopped Samhain thanks to them. They may not have saved the seal, but an entire city was beginning their day with nothing to worry about thanks to them.

Sam was doing the right thing. He truly was.

It didn't matter that no one seemed to agree with him.

•●•

"Let me guess, you're here for the ‘I told you so’" Dean said, turning on the bench to look at the angel sitting next to him.

“No”.

“Well, good, cause I’m really not that interested”.

"I am not here to judge you, Dean." The angel's voice was surprisingly gentle and Dean tried to ignore the way the light from his halo suddenly looked alluring. Dean hadn't told anyone, not even Sam, what he could see.

Because Dean still wasn't entirely convinced that he hadn't gone crazy.

Big black wings curved slightly around both of them as they chatted and Dean, for a moment, stopped seeing Castiel, the righteous angel of the lord and only saw Cas, someone who looked as lost as Dean felt.

"I don't envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean," Cas whispered. “I truly don’t”.

Then Cas leaned into him and Dean felt his mind short circuit for a second, because the angel clearly seemed to want a kiss. But no, Cas stopped an inch from touching his lips, simply watching him simultaneously with the blue eyes of his vessel and with the hundreds of curious eyes of his true form.

“What…?” Dean's question was interrupted by something coming from Cas' lips and colliding with his. Dean instinctively parted his lips and allowed Cas to give him whatever he wanted.

It wasn't liquid, but it wasn't a gas either. It was tasteless and Dean didn't feel it pass down his throat or vanish in his mouth. His heart raced and he felt… safe. Blessed.

As soon as it started it was over and by the time Dean managed to control his heartbeat, Cas had vanished and no one seemed to have witnessed what had happened.

•●•

Ruby didn't like Dean.

For many reasons, some more obvious or justifiable than others. But for the sake of the role Sam had to play, Ruby forced herself to cooperate with the older of the Winchesters.

But this was too much.

The mere presence of Dean made her feel like there were cockroaches crawling all over her body. His soul had taken on a new glow and Ruby didn't want to know what kind of things Dean was doing with his angel to have that kind of purity.

"I think there's something wrong with Dean," Sam confessed and Ruby could feel the fear making his voice shake or maybe the shaking came from the blood that was still running down her arm.

"What are you talking about?" Ruby asked sweetly, almost genuinely concerned. If it were up to her Dean would still be rotting in hell, but Sam was on his way of doing a miracle and Ruby felt that someone like that deserved all the happiness and satisfaction in the world. Even if it meant having to put up with Dean Winchester.

"He looks different," Sam said. "I think the angels are doing something to him. My brother would never have..."

"What?" Ruby prompted. "Would never have risked his life for an angel?"

"Well, no".

Ruby had a sudden epiphany that they weren't talking about Ana.

"Maybe the angels are… purifying him," Ruby suggested. "I mean, you know what he did when he was in hell".

The idea of Dean, brave and kind Dean, torturing souls in hell and enjoying it was too funny to be true.

"It's something more than that".

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know!"

Ruby thought that they had already wasted a lot of time talking about Dean, so she decided to silence Sam with a deep and dirty kiss, climbing onto his lap and thinking that heaven could purify Dean as much as they wanted, because she would see to it that Sam was more powerful than they could ever imagine.

•●•

The angels had taken his brother and Sam swore he was going to kill them as soon as he found them.

Wasn't it enough that they were manipulating and corrupting him, they also had to make him relive what happened in hell?

Dean had protected him from many things. Dean, his older brother, had taken it upon himself to give him a childhood that he never allowed himself to have. Dean had been in the front row of his school play. Dean had made him tomato rice soup whenever he got sick. Dean had put a wad of money and a cell phone in his bag when he had left for Stanford.

Dean had sold his soul to save him.

So now it was Sam's turn to save his older brother.

•●•

"For what it's worth," Cas murmured against his lips. Dean was shuddering with what could be fear or perhaps anticipation. "I would give anything not to have you do this".

•●•

Sam had killed Alistair and Dean was furious.

Hundreds of emotions were piling up in his mind and he wasn't able to understand how his brother could be so stupid to not see that his powers were changing him for the worse. Dean could feel that something was wrong with Sam and his little brother didn't seem to mind.

"I did it to save you!" Sam insisted, throwing his hands up as if Dean was going to lunge at him despite still being slightly dizzy from the hospital drugs. "I only used my powers to protect you when the angels couldn't!"

"Cas did the best he could."

"Really?" There was a note of hysteria in Sam's voice. "Are you going to defend him?"

"Sam..."

"He forced you to torture Alistair despite knowing what you did in hell!"

"He had no other choice!"

"He's using you!"

"But at least he has never lied to me!"

The lightbulb in the room exploded.

Both brothers froze and Dean could see that Sam was breathing heavily and refusing to meet his eyes.

"Sammy?"

"I'm going to get some air," was all Sam said before he practically ran out of the room.

Leaving Dean wondering if things between them would one day stop being so broken.

•●•

Dean's eyes glowed blue.

Angelic blue.

Sam had to save his brother before it was too late.

•●•

The first time Dean healed him, Sam felt like something inside him was burning.

It had been a hunt like any other. No seals threatening to break, no angels or demons. Just the two of them against an angry ghost, just like old times.

Except the ghost was really angry and by the time Dean managed to burn their bones, Sam had been thrown into several graves and several trees and he was sure the back of his head was bleeding.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, running up to him and gently laying him on the ground, with his head in his lap, examining the severity of the injury. Sam felt like a little kid again, feeling safe next to his big brother.

For a moment, there was no apocalypse or arguments. Just the warmth of his brother's body and gentle fingers running through his hair.

"Dean, I'm fine," Sam managed to say. "You know how much head injuries bleed. It's less serious than it seems".

"I know, Sammy".

And then Sam felt the soft strokes on his hair turn into flames and a gasp escaped from his throat. The pain lasted only a second and by the time Sam regained awareness of his surroundings, none of his injuries were still hurting.

"What did you do to me?" Sam hissed, pulling away from Dean and standing up quickly and nearly falling back to the ground from the wave of nausea that washed over him.

"I… I don't know." Dean looked as terrified as Sam felt. "I just wanted to make you feel better".

Dean wasn't normal anymore. Whatever the angels had done or were doing to him was changing his brother.

And Sam no longer knew if he could save him.

•●•

"What's happening to me, Cas?" Dean asked. Trying to convince himself that his little brother was safe and that even though Lilith had escaped, she at least hadn't made any deals with Sam.

"You're changing," was Cas' soft reply. "A metamorphosis, a revelation".

"Am I not human anymore?" Dean asked with his voice showing the terror he really felt.

"You're always going to be human, Dean," Cas reassured him. "Every saint, every messiah, was as human as you".

"I don't deserve this, Cas," Dean gasped, closing his eyes to avoid seeing Castiel, his wings and halo, his eyes and his light. He wasn’t worthy of witnessing the greatness of an angel, not this angel at least.

"Do you still think you don't deserve to be saved?" Cas whispered and Dean trembled slightly as he felt a warm hand gently touch his chin, forcing him to look up and open his eyes. Cas was looking at him so adoringly that Dean felt like he was going to combust in any minute. "Do you think you don't deserve to be loved?"

This is love? Dean almost asked, but instead he connected his lips to those of the angel in front of him and tried to ignore the way in which, for the first time since he had been dragged to hell, he felt pure.

•●•

Castiel couldn't keep doing this.

Heaven had lied to them. Castiel had delusionally believed that he was keeping Dean safe, that he was rendering him immune to demons, healing his wounds and protecting him from all danger.

When in reality Castiel had only been poisoning him.

Shame mingled with guilt within his grace. His wings were flapping as fast as they could, pulling him towards Dean. Trying to warn him about what heaven was planning. Trying to save him from the hell Castiel had condemned him to.

The angels found him first.

Castiel felt how his wings were imprisoned and how his entire being seemed to be consumed by the most absolute pain.

"Take him to Naomi," ordered one of his superiors. "Fix him as soon as possible".

The last thing Castiel felt was the bond he had begun to form with Dean being brutally ripped apart.

•●•

No demon could touch him and surprisingly that wasn't the strangest revelation Dean had that day.

No, the fact that the demon that tried to touch him in Jimmy Novak's house let out a scream of pain as he held onto his burned hand paled in comparison to everything else:

Seeing Sam, his baby brother, throw himself on a demon to drink her blood, broke his heart in a way that Dean couldn't even begin explain.

After that, seeing how Cas looked like his wings had been passed through a shredder while his true form's eyes seemed dull and unfocused only served to make his wounded heart surrender completely.

Dean was practically invincible, but right now, with the broken pieces of his heart trying to stick together, he felt more fragile than any glass.

•●•

Bobby wasn't having a good day.

No, that wasn't good enough, Bobby wasn't having a good life.

But this day was particularly bad.

No matter how much he wanted to ignore them, Bobby could still hear Sam's delirious screams. And to think that the boy who had entered his house years ago, hiding behind his older brother and observing everything with big eyes full of curiosity, was now going through a detoxification process for having consumed demon blood, was something that Bobby could hardly tolerate.

The fact that Dean was a mess didn't help much either.

Dean appeared to be a shadow, drowning in alcohol and carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Bobby wondered if there was something wrong with him too, for on more than one occasion the lights around him seemed to flicker and his eyes seemed to emit a strange light.

What had these two idjits gotten themselves into now?

•●•

Dean didn't know what else to do anymore.

"She's poison, Sam," Dean said, praying his brother saw reason. Sam just gave him a wry smile.

"What about Castiel?" Sam hissed and Dean instinctively took a step back. "Is he poison too, Dean?"

They had both lied to each other and here were the consequences.

"Cas is an angel," Dean replied. "He's just protecting me".

"What makes you different from me?" Sam asked. "Tell me, why are you allowed to be a freak and I'm not?"

"Sam that's not how things are..."

"Of course they are!" Sam yelled. "All my life I have been the freak of our family, I never fit in with you and dad, and I was ready to accept that I'm different from you, but it turns out that you are the same freak as me!"

"It's different and you know it, Sam," Dean tried to argue. "Cas never made me drink his blood, he never made me promises too good to be true, and he never made me addicted to anything".

"Why?" Sam asked, sounding exactly like the scared little kid who had believed that the monster under his bed was real. Dean felt his heart ache. "Why if we are both freaks I have to be the monster?"

"It's not too late, Sam," Dean pleaded. "We can still stop this. No angels and no demons, just you and me. Like before".

"I… I can't do that, Dean," Sam denied.

"Of course you can," Dean insisted, moving slowly toward Sam. "Say goodbye to Ruby, return with me to Bobby's house and we will find a way to end it all. I just want you to be okay, Sammy".

Sam's skin began to burn the moment Dean placed his hand on his arm.

No.

"Sammy?" Dean didn't recognize his own voice, he felt like his body had ceased to be his. A witness of his worst nightmares. A tear ran down his cheek. "Sammy, please".

The blow hurt less than the implications of what just happened.

•●•

It wasn't fair.

None of this was fair.

The place where Dean's hand had touched it still hurt. A reminder of what he had sacrificed for the greater good. A mockery of what he had lost by trying to be a hero.

But he couldn't stop, not now that he was so close to ending it all. Not when it was only a matter of hours before Lilith tried to break the final seal.

Ruby's presence was a comfort with the same intensity as a punishment, because Dean hadn't trusted him the way she did, but still Sam wanted the presence of his older brother.

That part of him that had believed for years that his older brother was a superhero right now wanted to run up to his brother and beg for forgiveness.

But Sam was no longer a child and his brother had made a decision.

It was time for Sam to made his, too.

•●•

The angels had kidnapped him. There was no other way to describe what they had done to him, but Dean had made a promise and he planned to keep it. So he stayed there and listened to what the angels told him.

But the moment Zacharias leaned toward him, his movements clinical and expressionless in a way Cas' had never been, Dean couldn't resist the urge to seal his lips, lower his gaze, and take several steps back.

"Dean," Zacharias sighed, as if Dean was a little kid who didn't want to eat his vegetables.

"No," Dean refused and before he could regret it he added. "I want Castiel to do it".

The expression on Cas' face was heartbroken.

"Very well," Zacharias agreed, before ordering Cas to come over to him.

With Cas' lips so close to his and with the warmth of what he now knew was grace enveloping his body, Dean wondered if Sam had been right and Cas had been poisoning him too.

Perhaps both of them had poisoned each other.

"You're almost ready," Zacharias marveled when Cas broke away from him. "Everything will go according to plan".

Dean wasn't so sure about that anymore.

•●•

"Sam," Ruby said, her dark eyes showing a panic Sam never remembered seeing. "Time is running out, are you going to do it or not?"

With Dean's voice telling him that he was a monster echoing in his head, Sam knew he really had no other choice.

•●•

"You know what's real?" Dean asked and didn't wait for an answer before grabbing the lapels of Cas' trenchcoat and slamming his lips against his.

Cas seemed to freeze for a moment before reciprocating the kiss with intensity. His black wings curved around both of them and Dean felt the heat of his halo brushing against his hair. Invisible hands caressed his skin and hundreds of eyes watched him adoringly.

"This is real," Dean gasped as they parted. "This, us, people, families— that's real. You're gonna watch them all burn, Cas?"

"What would you have me do, Dean?" Cas whispered. His wings trembling slightly.

"Get me to Sam," Dean said. "We can stop this before it's too late".

"I do that, we will all be hunted," Cas replied. "We'll all be killed".

"If there is anything worth dying for... this is it" was all Dean could say.

Dean barely had time to react before he was being pushed into one of the walls and kissed desperately. Dean raised his hands to tangle them in Cas' hair and parted his lips the moment he felt Cas' tongue touch his lower lip.

His body accepted Cas' grace with ease.

"We have to find Sam, we have to stop him from killing Lilith," Cas told him when they parted.

"Why?" Dean asked, feeling a little dizzy. "Lilith is going to break the final seal".

"Lilith is the final seal," Cas said. "She dies; the end begins".

•●•

Sam had never felt a power like this.

It was all about to end and he could finally have the life he deserved. His nightmare would end and everything Azazel had planned would be in vain. Sam would use the powers that hell had given him for good. He would use the demon blood that ran through his veins to prevent the apocalypse.

And maybe, when things finally ended, Sam could apologize to Dean and all of this would be nothing more than a bad memory.

Lilith was smiling and Sam was eager to erase that smile once and for all.

Finally, everything was about to end.

•●•

Castiel was committing treason.

He didn't even think twice before vanishing Zacharias and carrying Dean as quickly as his wings allowed him to the house of the prophet of the lord. It was the only chance they had to find Sam and stop the apocalypse before it started.

"You guys aren't supposed to be there," said the prophet, frowning. "You're not in this story".

"Yeah, well..." Castiel said. "We're making it up as we go".

Castiel then took a moment to look at Dean, his soul shining as bright as the sun and cradling his grace as if he never wanted to be without it. Castiel felt a wave of affection for the human he had rescued from hell, for the man who had kissed his lips like a lover.

He sensed the archangel's presence long before he appeared and Castiel knew that they had run out of time.

Regardless of whether the prophet was watching them, Castiel pulled Dean to share a heavy kiss. A kiss of regret for lost time. A goodbye kiss.

"I'll hold him off!" Castiel gasped against Dean's lips, allowing most of his grace to flow to him. If Castiel couldn't protect him, at least he would make sure his grace did. "I'll hold them all off! Just stop Sam!"

Dean connected their lips one last time.

"Good luck".

In the end, Dean had been right. This was something worth dying for.

•●•

He had been too late.

•●•

"I was the best of all those sons of bitches!" Ruby yelled, a maniacal smile curving her lips. "The most loyal!"

Sam had stopped listening to her, just staring in horror at what he had done.

This is not how things are supposed to be. This shouldn't have been the end of this. He had made a stupid mistake, he had been arrogant and he had been naive. Sam had only wanted to protect the world; he had only wanted to take some of the burden off his brother's shoulders.

Sam, for once in his life, had just wanted to do something right.

"You're too late," Ruby scoffed and Sam felt like he might start crying when he saw his big brother.

"I don't care," Dean hissed and Sam could only watch paralyzed as Dean placed his hand on Ruby's forehead and she started screaming, her eyes on fire and the demonic essence of her fading.

"I'm sorry," Sam sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Dean".

Dean couldn't even look him in the eye.

"We have to get out of here," was all Dean said. "Let's go, Sam".

"Dean," Sam gasped. "He's coming".

Dean ignored him, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the exit.

For the first time in months, Dean's touch was no longer uncomfortable.

•●•

The apocalypse had begun.

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biteghost · 3 years

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How do you come up with so many cool characters?? All of your OCs seem so vibrant and fleshed out. Do you have a specific process for developing them, or do they just kinda come to you mostly formed? I find I struggle with building a compelling OCs for D&D games & would love to hear your thoughts on character development.

(This answer got long, sorry.) This is a super nice sentiment, I’m happy you think my characters are all cool and unique!!

As far as process goes, uh, it depends on the character? I’ve spent a long time (years) rewiring my brain when it comes to what I think about when creating OCs. They don’t usually come to me fully formed - I get an idea in my head about a concept, and then over like a week or even months of fiddling I end up with a character for that concept.

A lot of the time my characters are simply people I wanted to see more of in media as a kid! Mostly, female characters I actually relate to or are as nuanced and messy as their male cast members, haha... (It was a trip when I realized in high school that I didn’t hate female characters - it was actually that none of them were written as well as the cool boys in the anime series I liked, haha! Be the change you want to see in the world, basically.)

Inspiration for characters (and stories for them to be part of) come from a lot of places. An easy piece of advice is to make an effort to intake media you like! Read new comics, watch new movies and television shows, read books, play video games, listen to music and obsessively memorize the lyrics - hell, obsessively learn everything there is to know about black holes or public domain characters (that’s what I did, lol...)!

(Note: ’New’ meaning new to YOU - you don’t need to only be partaking of media that’s created in 2021 - you can find a lot to love in media that was created before your time, or for generations before you!)

I must reiterate: intake new media that you ENJOY! You don’t have to like all the same things as everyone else, you don’t have to be invested in the same shows and podcasts as your friends. Varied interests and taste is part of what makes us all unique! Increasing your pool of inspiration will help you come up with interesting ideas, and help you find YOUR voice. Your particular interests and the niche things that speak to you will help you figure out what kind of characters and what kind of stories you like to create! But the process doesn’t end at just intaking media... When you find the stuff that brings you joy, analyze what exactly it is about that thing that speaks to you... Put it into words. Explain it to a friend. Make it tangible, analyze the feelings and why the series made you feel that way... and then take it and shove it into your own stories, lol!

Engage critically and thoughtfully with work you like, with characters you like, and it will help you have the language and thought process to recreate it in your own work!

My creative process is like an exquisite corpse of all the characters and series I’ve liked over my lifetime. I mesh them all together in a grim blender and what comes out is a shake in the vague shape as an OC, lol

BUT... it seems like you’re asking more specifically about making characters for tabletop roleplaying games like D&D? And THAT is a different process for me than making OCs for my comics or original story ideas!

I don’t usually join a tabletop game with a fully fleshed out character, actually?? I don’t spend a long time on their backstory, and I usually figure it out like halfway through the story, or through collaboration with my game master!

My TTRPG characters are usually whatever I think would be most interesting in the given game setting or set-up and... usually they exist in opposition to whatever the core concept of the game is. So, the examples I have from games I’ve played are:

In Cardians: West (World of Darkness: Hunter the Vigil): we played in a modern-day urban fantasy setting, where players were recruited into a supernatural Hunter group that was also a criminal organization that Did Crimes and Broke The Law in the name of keeping peace and protecting humanity from the supernatural creatures that go bump in the night. I played Andrew, a Lawful Good Police Detective, because I thought playing a character who would need to grow past his original ideals of ‘Right and Wrong’ in the name of the greater good would be interesting! (And it was!)

In SINNING ADVENTURE (WoD: Geist: The Sin-Eaters) we payed in a modern-day urban fantasy setting with the premise that the players all Died and were brought back to life by forming a pact with a powerful spirit (and getting cool ghost powers in the process!) I played Cassius, a character who could not cope with his death, and thus refused to use his new powers because they were evidence that he was no longer strictly human. It caused conflict in the group and world, but I thought it would be interesting! (And it was! Cassius was a Bitch.)

In Rex Machina (Dungeons and Dragons 5E), I wanted to play an Aarakocra, but was having a hard time deciding on a class or backstory... until I found out that in the ‘canon’ of D&D Aarakocra only live to be like, mid 20s???? Their lifespans are insanely short compared to other playable races!! And I thought that was stupid, so I decided to make MY Aarakocra, Izzy, a warlock that’s looking for ways to extend his own stupidly short life. His pact essentially granted that to him, giving him extra time to find a way to achieve True Immortality. His conflict challenges what’s ‘true’ living in this world, and his extended life is in direct conflict with a lot of forces in the world we play in, and while it is very stressful I think it’s really interesting to play!

In Lamplighting (Monster of the Week), my character Aicen is an assassin who made a deal with a demon and gained supernatural perks out of it... except I decided that she doesn’t WANT to be in this deal. She is actively trying to undo it because it wasn’t her deal - she inherited it from a CEO that she killed during an unrelated job. (Aicen is probably my character I’ve put the most backstory into, and that’s just because at character creation in MOTW you are given a lot of questions about who your character is and why they’re where they are!)

In Hand of Adam (WoD: HtV), the concept was that all players were going to join a post-apocalyptic supernatural-hating cult. I played Shouter, who was a self-preserving pacifist coward who also turned out to be a fae (which the cult would have killed him over). It was stressful but very fun. I love Shouter. He ran away from fights and didn’t actually kill anyone until the last episode where they fought God (whom he killed, lol).

NOW. THESE ARE ALL JUST EXAMPLES OF HOW *I* LIKE TO PLAY CHARACTERS!! For me personally, I enjoy playing a character who has built-in conflict either with the world, the story, or the other players. I’m only able to play characters like this because my friend group are all really cool and we all know that conflict is not bad - it’s fiction and we’re just roleplaying! If I didn’t trust my GMs and fellow players as much as I do, I probably wouldn’t have felt comfortable enough playing some of these concepts.

I don’t think you need to know every little thing about a tabletop character, and in fact, not knowing some things and leaving it up to the GM and story to flesh out is an easy way to help you get more invested in both your character AND the story your GM is telling! Tabletops are a collaborative storytelling experience, so if you’ve already plotted out your character’s whole story, there won’t be much participation from other players or your GM. Figure out what your character wants, and let your roleplaying and GM slowly put all the other pieces in place over the course of your campaign!

But the TL:DR about how I make tabletop OCs is that I just... try to give them a goal, an ideal, or a personality that is in direct conflict with some aspect of the game we’re playing. I don’t want the character to be undermining the whole game, because that’s really crappy to do to your GM, but I have to have something for my character to grow through or change. I like giving them built-in character arc starters, lol. I haven’t played a game where my character has gotten along with every other player character and NPC over the entire campaign since my very FIRST game, lol!

Also, if you’re having trouble, why not ask your GM what they think? Again, tabletops are collaborative! Don’t be afraid to talk ideas out with your GM for your character.

A final note about playing in specifically oneshot games (i.e. games that are not long campaigns but are meant to be played in one or two sittings). Personally, I always just retrofit an OC I already have to play in oneshots! When I make a new character for a long campaign, it usually takes me two or three sessions to find their voice and figure out how to roleplay them. If the game you’re playing is only one session, I find it easier to jump right in and get the most out of your character and the game when you’re playing a character you already know pretty well! I’ve played characters from my webcomic quite a few times, and it’s always a lot more fun for me than figuring out a new character on the fly!

SO UH, IN CONCLUSION... sorry if this is mad unhelpfu!! My personal processes are unique to me! but that's the point - no one person will have the exact answer that works for you! You have to keep trying until you figure it out for yourself! Good luck! Keep creating! <3

#long post #asktime #not art #art talk #writing talk #tabletop talk #gif #iwishihadhorns

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fl0ating-tree · 3 years

Text

spoilers for tommy’s stream (03/01)

Wilbur Soot can confidently say he’s experienced some boring things in his life. When Phil would leave for his trips he would lazy around the house, snacking on the food Phil stocked up for him, bored out of his mind. The days in Pogtopia before the festival announcement when he still had a grip on his mental health, when he would lounge around with Tommy after hours of ranting about Schlatt. There was only so much planning and preparing they could do in those first few days without Technoblade, so the nights were filled with boring small talk. Hell, even those months after they won independence, before the election, where he would wander L’manberg and get bored of talking to the same five citizens.

So yeah, Wilbur was well versed in all things boring. Which is why he can also confidently say that the afterlife was the most boring of them all.

There was no heaven, no hell, just wandering eternally. At least insanity had it perks of having things to obsess over. Now, he simply wandered through white voids and black tunnels and hoped he found his way to a memory. Occasionally he got to watch things from Ghostbur’s perspective, though he quickly learned anything he got to see was something the ghost wouldn’t remember, aka something awful. Watching Dream abuse Tommy, arguing with Fundy, seeing the aftermath of Phil and Techno’s destruction, Techno’s execution. The only glimpses he got of his friends and family were the worst parts. At first it was depressing, then it was somber, then it became a routine and now it’s just boring.

The memories were nice, at first. Taking Tommy under his wing and watching him grow. Sparing with Technoblade. Adventures with Phil. But there’s only so many times you can watch yourself do things that have already happened. And knowing the outcome of these memories, watching himself promise to never leave Tommy or never use Techno for his fighting abilities and knowing he breaks the promises just becomes sadistic. They became boring, just like everything else in the afterlife.

Schlatt was there sometimes. Wandering just like him. Sometimes they’d meet after a fun memory of their challenges against the sky gods, sometimes they’d meet after Wilbur gets pulled into the present by Ghostbur. They never stayed together long.

He could’ve sworn Jack Manifold was there, if only for a split second. And if he wandered long enough without finding a memory he could hear distance Mexican music playing. But maybe he was just going insane all over again. Those events never peaked his interest for long, though, and he went back to his mindless wandering.

The only thing that broke through the monotony was when he felt pulled, physically pulled, and suddenly could think of nothing but Tommy. Him growing up, always mature for his age but then maturing too quickly as he was thrown into war. Selfless Tommy, giving his prized possessions and two of his lives for Wilbur’s dream. The boy he came to see as his brother never giving up on him, even when he should’ve, in the end. The sheer loneliness Wilbur felt was overwhelming. It felt like he was missing someone, not just emotionally but physically. Like Tommy was supposed to be there, in the afterlife, with him. Suddenly he could smell fresh air and lingering gunpowder and heard a familiar disc.

Tommy and Tubbo were on the bench, listening to their discs, beaten and bloodied but smiling. Tommy must’ve gotten his discs back. He was proud.

And he told Tommy just that. Something must have thinned the veil between the living and the afterlife because finally, finally, Wilbur could talk to Tommy. The two boys seemed nervous, but Wilbur could do nothing but smile and run his transparent hand through Tommy’s hair. For a split second, the loneliness in his chest eased.

But once he was thrown back into the afterlife, that ache doubled. For the first time in what felt like year (time passed weirdly here) Wilbur wasn’t mildly annoyed and bored, he was curious and confused and horribly lonely. Schlatt stopped showing up quite a while ago, and he hadn’t been pulled into one of Ghostbur’s visions in a long time, so he had nothing but himself as he felt physically ill from loneliness.

However, it was an illness he was willing to suffer. The pull in his chest felt almost like there was something trying to push Tommy into the afterlife, and Wilbur would be damned if he let Tommy give up yet another life. So he wandered some more, watched memories that seemed only consistent of Tommy now, and tried to pretended like he was still bored instead of horribly worried.

He was watching a memory of Tommy, now. It was in the hto dog van, Wilbur had just been working on setting it up. Tommy came up behind him and scared him senseless. Jokingly, Tommy threw a carrot at him to try and calm him down. He wonders if this silly little bit that Tommy seemed to find hilarious is where Ghostbur got his “calm yourself, have some blue” catchphrase from. The idea doesn’t help the loneliness in his stomach.

He was honestly enjoying the memory when it started to shift. He felt his stomach drop, like he was reaching the peak of a rollercoaster.

“Schlatt? He’s fuckin’ dead,” Tommy says in front of him, still holding the carrots. This isn’t how this memory went. “His grave? I’ve seen his grave, his grave is real his corpse is there,” There was blood pouring down from a gash on Tommy’s head. A bruise was forming around his temple.

When watching memories, it felt less like a memory and more like a dissociative episode. Wilbur felt like he was watching himself move from afar, no effect on his own actions. But now, Wilbur could feel himself be grounded back in reality (can he even call it that?) as he grabs Tommy by the shoulders.

“Tommy what’s happening?” He cries out, shaking Tommy by the shoulders. Tommy’s completely unresponsive. More bruises and gashes appear all over him.

“No, no no no-” Tommy’s eyes are wide with fear now, the carrot gone and his appearance changing. He looks older now, he looks about the same as he did when Wilbur saw him after the end of the Disc War. “Stop it, stop it!-” Tommy was yelling now, before his voice harshly cuts out into a choke. He crumbles to the ground, Wilbur going with him.

“Tommy! Tommy holy shit what happened?!” Wilbur yells, clutching Tommy by the upper arms as Tommy grips onto the sleeves of his jacket. The boy is shaking like a leaf, blood gushing from his head, bruises all over him body and a black eye. The eye that isn’t swelling is blown wide, pupil no larger than a nail. “Tommy?!”

He inhales sharply, and as quickly as they appear the bruises start to fade. His eyes dart up, and connect with Wilbur’s. Tommy’s body feels heavier somehow, his presence stronger rather than a wispy memory. Every rational part of Wilbur knew what that meant, but he refused to believe it.

“I’m dead,” Tommy whispers, like it’s a secret. Like the idea isn’t shattering Wilbur’s perfectly constructed, boring world.

He doesn’t have some witty response, no jokes to crack to lighten the mood or counterarguments. But he knows Tommy wouldn’t be there, wounds fading and very much corporeal in the afterlife, if he wasn’t dead.

“What-” Wilbur doesn’t have to finish his sentence.

“Dream,” Tommy whispers again, “I was stuck in the prison, I pissed him off, I-” he chokes on his tears. “After everything,” anger quickly replaces the dispare, Tommy always coped with anger easier, “after you destroyed L’manberg,” Wilbur winces at that, but keeps his hold on Tommy strong, “after Logstedshire, after Techno fucking blew L’manberg up even worse than you did. After Dream nearly killed Tubbo. After fucking everything. What the fuck-”

“I’m so sorry, Toms,” Wilbur sobs, pulling Tommy to his chest, “I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve it. You never deserved this.”

“Why?” Tommy asks. Wilbur can’t tell who it’s directed at, or what exactly he’s asking why about. Him, for all he dragged Tommy through? Whatever God that abandoned them, for forcing him to die young?

Wilbur didn’t have an answer. He wished the world was boring again.

#dream smp #dream smp fanfic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #smp spoilers #leave it to me to make tommys death about wilbur teehee #please wilbur and tommy afterlife stream #tw blood

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lovee-infected · 4 years

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hello, i'm a big admirer of your theories and watching a movie based on the disney park i thought of a connection between the haunted mansion and the disorganized dormitory, was that a reference about the school's past or if there is a chance to have but a ghost that has a connection with the foundation of the school? it would be very interesting to know how the school came about or in whom the disorganized dormitory hurts inspired, maybe it's just a random idea but I kept thinking about it💓

Hi there and thank you very much darling !😄💕💕💕💕💕💕 Well first of all , I'm greatly sorry for my awfully late response - This ask came when my url was still @/geodraconia (Oof-long ago) and I was mainly a twst theory-only blog...

And now , this isn't a random idea at all my dear and thank you very much for leading me to it ! I'd previously written theories for the Ramshackle dorm but the haunted mansion..? I watched lots of streams and videos for this and I can't believe how much I've been missing all this time omg-

Well then ! Let's go for it !

Twisted Wonderland theories part 4 : Haunted mansion and Eliza's background :

First of all let us quickly review what we previously found about Ramshackle dorm's possible inspirations :

youtube

The designs are clearly based off Disney's thro the mirror and there's no argue on it - But the same design was used in the video game epic Mickey as well

The other point was with the ghosts . I was pretty sure that they're designed after disney's famous lonesome ghosts for both designs and the house they lived in which did share similarities with Ramshackle dorm

Full theory here

Well I totally missed the biggest hint amd that would be the haunted mansion ; a direct and strong source for not only our beloved ghosts but also the main reason and reference of our latest and so far , greatest event which would be the ghost marriage

Before I start talking about what and why leaded to Eliza's story ; let me have a small update on the haunted mansion:

With some YouTube videos and documentaries on the haunted mansion's establishment , you may now understand the high similarities between the Ramshackle dorm and the well-known haunted mansion better :

youtube

You can check the videos out for full explanation but let me just bring some of the interesting hints out here :

1) The three men and the ghosts : Pretty similar to Ramshackle's ghosts , aren't they ?? I still can't relate to the third ghost or...corpse with that beard but take a look at the other two : From the form of the skull...to the shape of the hat . Familiar , right ?

2) The mirror : No extra words I guess , the picture has it all ( Not much different from our dark mirror , is it?)

Well if you guys watch the YouTube video you'll get to see plenty of more details in a better explanation there , but for now let's get to my favorite part :

The ghost bride :

Well then before having a look at where Eliza did exactly come from , let's review the mostly mentioned thoughts on her

1) Eliza does have a Hamilton reference : I personally agree on this one . Since Disney had hosted a Hamilton remake in the late years and because both stories have a bride who is blinded b love and doesn't see the incomplete parts of their crush (Alexander Hamilton vs Idia Shroud lol-) that's pretty possible to be ( I actually had a doubt whether the ghost bride's name is pronounced as El-ee-za or El-ai-zaa and so @poisonepel helped me with it )

2) Eliza is based off the corpse bride : Well this one seemed a bit too good to be true since Tim Burton's Corpse Bride isn't a Disney original , but due to what I found on the bride's background , it wasn't that wrong

Well recently @vaudedrome-dorm too shared pics of the latest ghost bride from Tokyo's 2019 event and the similarities are just too obvious . But the story is far greater than just a cute 2019 parade ; let's return to The haunted mansion's first days

When the haunted mansion was finally open to the public , a ghost named hatbox ghost was one of the strongest-spookiest hints there to frighten visitors ; but due to some reasons , this ghost was immediately replaced with a newer figure named : Ghost bride which hasn't ever been even close to getting removed so far

The first design is believed to be this painting which was inspired by this mysterious photography , (close enough huh..?)

Then through later designs , the ghost bride was given plenty of changes . Each one creepier after another ...

Well well , as you can see , the first designs weren't much pleasant amd the main design was a corpse with a beating heart on chest , which later grow famous with the nickname of Beating heart bride was the longest design our bride has been through. Designs did change a lot during it's time , but the heart remained the same

2) Well years later after having the heart beating bride for too long , they decided to give it an all new design : They removed the heart and instead , came up with a fully digital blue-ish phantom of the bride , which seemed more suitable for the haunted mansion

The bride is stcuk next to the mirror and pics in the middle of the ride , but the most interesting part are the portraits . They show a woman dressed as a bride stepping next to a man , as you move through the ride , the man's head disappears as if his head gets cut of or better to say : they proves that the groom had died

Another amazing design at the haunted mansion is how a ghost marriage is supposed to be taking place there . Portraits and designs are another aspect of it :

Due to having different designs over the time ; plenty of different stories have bee spreaded about the ghost bride's possible back ground , but let's look at the two of the most famous ones of them :

1) Constance, also known as the Black Widow Bride, who was unveiled in the 2006/2007 upgrades having replaced the original beating heart bride tells the story of a bride who murders her husbands and takes their riches for herself, hence the name Black Widow Bride. Constance does not however tell us all of her secrets and we are left to imagine the worst. While it is nice to leave the audience wanting more…

Well well that's all that was explained so far about the beating heart bride which was the first and almost the most famous design of the ghost bride

2) Now Melanie, who is in DLRP, is a completely different story…she was a young bride in love but whose father was completely against her marriage and was devoted to stopping it no matter what…but her parents died in an accident so happy ever after right? No…her groom was then killed by the Phantom of the Manor (I’m not sure who this is or WHY he wanted to kill the groom) and so she kept waiting for him to show up at the alter even in death. And again you’re left with questions, or at least I am…who is the Phantom in this Manor and why did he kill Melanie’s groom? Was he her father hell-bent on stopping her marrying this young man? Was he a jealous suitor?

I believe most of you are well-familiar with Tim Burton's Corpse Bride which is actually based off this story . So to everyone who assumed Eliza to be based off Corpse bride : You were indirectly right ! Because the bride we now are talking about is most likely based off the same thing Burton was inspired by

Okay , now let's get to our best part of the bride's history , something that is indubitably Yana's main and direct reference for Eliza's design : TADA !

Let's take a look at Tokyo's 2019 Spooky "Boo!" Parade where this version of the bride showed up ; a special tokyo event featuring the haunted Mansion but his time , with all alive and human cast :

Spooky "Boo!" Parade :

I leave reading the full info to you but let me bring the important parts out ; the bride

In 2019, the Bride was added to the parade. She walked in front of the float with Mickey and the knights. Her appearance differed from previous Bride costume characters - her hair is done up in a bun, and her dress and veil are more stylized and cartoony - but her dress is designed with a red heart in the center of her chest. This was the first time that the original bride appeared in the parks as a live character.

The bride was accompanied by five men dressed in matching suits and top hats. They acted as admirers to her. They proposed to her and she playfully pushed them away, as they made their way down the parade route.

I wanna focus on this part again

You see!?? Yana didn't come up with that story out of thin air ! The bride , the haunted Ramshackle dorm , the marriage , the slapped proposers!!!! They were are designed based on canon Disney events along with her knowledge and research ; just , impressive

omg...I mean I know that Yana always does her research but this...this was waaaaay greater than what I was expecting...

Upcoming is the Wish upon a star event and many already are expecting it to be a Pinocchio reference , but who knows ? What surprises is Yana willing to give us this time ? Let's see

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #Rest in peace dear tags 🙏

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jellybeanium124 · 3 years

Text

thanks to @actualtimetravelingcat for giving me this fic idea!

Summary: Klaus steals some of Vanya’s pills

WC: 1843

Twice a day, Vanya would take a pill. All of the siblings were vaguely aware of this in their own ways, but to them, it was just a Fact of Life. For Klaus, it had been the same, until now.

After Reggie let him out of the mausoleum, he ran to his room and cried. He felt so overwhelmed that he couldn’t even count how many other bad things he was feeling. After a half hour, his brain started to calm down. He wasn’t over this, he’d never be over this, but human brains just aren’t built to feel strong emotions all the time.

Emotions.

What were those pills for again? Anxiety or emotions or something? Reggie hadn’t talked about them in years. Well, Klaus was basically a ball of anxiety and emotions right now. Vanya was fine, he was not. And with that, he rationalized stealing one of Vanya’s pills from the little top drawer of her dresser. He snuck it back into his room and swallowed it. Nothing happened. This is fine, Klaus thought. He remembered one winter the flu was brought home somehow and they all had to take some pills and they didn’t work immediately either. Everyone had been silently watching Vanya that week, rather than silently ignoring her, worried that her childhood illness might have made her weaker. Luckily, everyone was fine, of course.

By dinner he still didn’t feel any different. Well, he did feel somewhat calmer than he’d been several hours earlier that day, but he couldn’t tell if that was just because he was relieved it was over, or because of the pill.

The next day, during free time after lunch, while Vanya was practicing violin, Klaus snuck back into her room and read the label on the orange bottle, wondering exactly what happened. The bottle wasn’t helpful at all. It had the “take twice a day” directions and just said that the pills calmed anxiety. Klaus was struck with an idea, and took another pill from the bottle. This time, though, he didn’t pop it immediately.

If there was one thing that made life with Reginald tolerable, it was that he prided himself on punctuality. Last Thursday, he had banged on Klaus’s door to wake him up just before dawn and throw him in the mausoleum, so Wednesday night Klaus took the pill and prayed that it would help.

Sure enough, there was a banging on Klaus’s door at an ungodly hour of the morning.

“NUMBER FOUR!” Reggie shouted. Klaus immediately got up and threw on his uniform, and followed Reggie out to the mausoleum, barely feeling the ground under his feet, the air around his skin, or anything really except the anxiety in his stomach. The anxiety only made him more anxious. Maybe the pills were specifically tailored to Vanya’s biology or something. Maybe they didn’t do what they say they did.

“Let’s try this again Number Four,” Reginald said, as they stood outside the mausoleum.

With a light tap he pushed Klaus inside and shut the door. Klaus stood right next to it and saw… nothing. No ghosts. He heard nothing. No screams. The mausoleum was still a bit creepy, but it was empty. To any other 12-year-old, being alone with a bunch of corpses would be scary as hell, but to Klaus, this empty dark room wasn’t scary at all. It was a little strange. The ghosts seemed to know he was coming last time, as if they could sense that he could see them. He took one step into the room, and then another, until he was in the middle looking around. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Klaus could’ve assumed, at this point, that the ghosts didn’t care about him anymore and no longer wanted him to help them complete their unfinished purpose on Earth, but he didn’t. If he was Luther, maybe he would’ve thought that way, but he wasn’t Luther, he was Klaus, and his mind immediately jumped to the more fantastical but correct conclusion.

Vanya’s pills make his powers go away. Now, if Klaus was Five, then maybe he would’ve concluded the next logical step in this thought process: does this mean that the pills are suppressing powers in Vanya? But Klaus wasn’t Five, he was Klaus, so he didn’t think or care about what the pills were doing to Vanya. His anxieties melted away and were replaced with unrestrained joy. A little white pill was the answer to all of his problems.

By this point, Reginald was a little concerned, or at least confused, about why he heard no screaming from Number Four. Had he conquered his fears that quickly? Surely not. He opened the door to see Klaus standing in the middle of the room. Luckily, Klaus was still facing away from the door and Reggie couldn’t see the gigantic smile on his face.

“Number Four!” Reggie cried. Klaus whipped around, his smile leaving his face immediately out of habit. The two pairs of eyes met, the fake cold-steely gray and the innocent green. Neither understood what was going on in the other, until Klaus saw the confusion in Reggie’s (or at least he thought he did). Reggie was certainly confused. It took one day? One day for Number Four to get over his fears? There must be something else going on. He briefly considered locking Klaus in the mausoleum for longer, but he eventually decided not to.

“Out,” Reginald said, pointing towards the exit. Klaus very quickly left. So the boy still was jumpy. He wasn’t devoid of fear. Reggie briefly regretted letting him out, before realizing he wasn’t scared of the mausoleum anymore. He was scared of something else. He’d be sure to tell Grace and Pogo to keep an eye on Klaus. Reginald didn’t like not knowing things, and he certainly didn’t like not knowing where Number Four’s fear was coming from.

Three days later Vanya’s pill bottle ran empty. There should’ve been two more. Klaus should’ve seen this coming.

Reginald didn’t seem to blame Vanya at all. After all, she’d been on top of her pills for god-knows-how-many years. That afternoon, during what was supposed to be a free period, all of the children were lined up in the foyer. Including Vanya.

Reginald was pacing in front of them, back and forth, not saying anything. For about forty seconds, the seven children and one adult stood (or paced) there in silence.

Luther was the one to raise his hand. Klaus was a little surprised, but Luther likes clear directions and plans. It was clear he was uncomfortable having no idea what was going on. He also might have figured that he was the least likely to be yelled at for raising his hand, because he was the favorite. Luther could be self-sacrificing like that.

Reggie didn’t seem to notice that Luther’s hand was up. Luther didn’t say anything.

“Dad?” Allison asked after another 20 seconds. Reggie looked at her. She pointed at Luther.

“Yes Number One?” Reggie asked.

“Why are we here?” Luther asked quietly. From here, Reginald seemed to launch into a prepared monologue. Klaus wondered why he didn’t just start there instead of wasting time. His stomach was already in knots.

“I ordered you all here because something very important has gone missing. You all know how I loathe deceit and thievery, and I do not tolerate them in my house. The missing items are two of Vanya’s pills. I would like them returned to me.” Reggie’s eyes passed over all the children. Klaus glanced at his siblings, knowing their innocence.

Luther was nervous anyways. A bead of sweat was on his forehead, but he was clearly doing well at remaining calm. Diego stared ahead with no emotion as if to say “I know nothing and have nothing to hide.” Allison was also looking around the room, trying to guess who did it. Five looked cool as a cucumber, with his hands in his jacket pockets. Ben looked very nervous, and was looking back and forth from his siblings to Dad. Vanya looked like she was on the brink of tears. Klaus wondered what Reggie had said to her in private.

“If anyone knows anything about the pills please report it to me immediately.” Reginald said. “Dismissed.”

And with that, he marched out. All the children noticed he said nothing about immunity or punishments. Everyone’s body language clearly relaxed when Reginald left, but before any of them could leave, Luther stepped forward and crossed his arms.

“Did any of you actually steal some of Vanya’s pills?” he asked, forever one to believe his siblings had the best intentions at all times.

“It’s pretty strange the old man was so keen to believe that immediately,” Diego added perceptively. “I’d say he thinks he knows who it is already.” Diego’s eyes swept the room, looking for a culprit to gulp or do something at his idea.

“The pills could’ve fallen out of the bottle,” Luther retorted.

“He made me search my room,” Vanya said quietly. “Very thoroughly.”

“So they didn’t,” Diego said, turning back to Luther.

Luther still didn’t look convinced.

“Guys, let’s not blame each other,” Allison said. “Clearly that’s what Dad wants. Just let this play out, okay? The pills will probably re-appear in Vanya’s room tonight. Who’d even want them anyways?”

“I agree,” Five said. “The old man is playing with us. Whoever took the pills should give them back immediately.”

Five left, and that signaled everyone else to leave. Klaus slipped out and went to the roof, a place he could be alone that wasn’t as stifling as his room, and proceeded to freak out. How could he be so short-sighted! How could he be so stupid! Of course Reginald keeps track of Vanya’s pills! If he fessed up, he knew he’d be a ghost well before he should be.

Diego and Luther both held investigations, but they were fruitless, not that everyone didn’t figure out eventually that it was Klaus, or at least Dad thought it was Klaus. It started that evening at dinner, with Reginald telling him to go help Grace with the dishes. There were little things like that: an extra ten pushups, two more laps around the house, dust all the bookshelves in the library alone, clean the silver, and other piddly punishments. These sucked, as they would for any 12-year-old, but the real punishment came in the form of Klaus being forced back into the mausoleum, now twice a week, each Tuesday and Thursday morning.

“You’re weak, Number four,” Reginald said one early morn as they crossed the property to the mausoleum. “What you did was weakness.”

Klaus didn’t respond, refusing to own up.

“Weakness isn’t allowed in the Umbrella Academy,” Reginald continued. “It is a worse crime than lying or thievery combined. Deception and thievery can both have a place in the world, especially when it comes to saving it, but weakness has no place anywhere.” Reginald stopped, and faced Klaus. “Do you understand, Number Four?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Reginald pushed Klaus in.

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