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obxsummer · 1 year

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Dreamcatcher // JJ Maybank

pairing: jj maybank x gn!reader

request: “I broke the lock. You were screaming.” and ❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜ with jj? gn!reader has been having nightmares every night since the treasure hunting started, and its the first night back in obx after poguelandia and they have a really bad one, and jj is there to help? of course, only write it if you want to, your writing is beautiful! lots of love <3

warnings: nightmares, creepy wound descriptions

a/n: y'all i have no idea why the links are going to the browser the way they are but I'm hoping tumble fixes itself here soon

navigation

#obx3celebration

Your time in Poguelandia was hard. Learning how to survive off the island around you was rewarding, but also terrifying. What if you ate something poisonous or someone got seriously injured? Each day got a little bit easier than the one before but you couldn’t lie and say it was a vacation.

You were glad to be back in the OBX. Although it sucked living back here on your own, it was nice to be back in your bed and to know what exactly you were surrounding yourself with. JJ followed along with you after coming back to an eviction notice on his door. You were more than happy to offer up the extra room in your home, grateful to not have an empty house.

You’d grown up alongside Sarah Cameron and the Kooks, easily becoming one of her best friends over the years. Eventually, you were dragged into the chaos and solidified your Pogue friendship with Kie, JJ, Pope, and John B. They were your best friends, your steady pillars in a rocky world. Of course, jumping off a boat in the middle of the ocean wasn’t on your bucket list, but you’d do anything for them.

Nothing brought people together better than trauma bonding, of course. In the past month, you and JJ slowly inched closer. Both of you had nobody to return home to and nowhere to be. He was lost and you were broken; two puzzle pieces that oddly fit together.

JJ was crashing in the guest bedroom, having showered and fallen asleep quickly after the two of you got dropped off. You took your time to get to bed, knowing as soon as you sat on the mattress, you’d be out for hours.

You didn’t know where your parents were, opting that maybe they never even knew you were gone in the first place. You were quick to find a spare phone and get it set back up in case the Pogues reached out with any news.

The dark and quiet of your room was intimidating as you lay there on your back. You were so used to the crackle of a dying fire, or one of your friends snoring. The moon almost always cast a light around you as well and the sound of the moving ocean was calming.

It wasn’t obvious when the dark of your ceiling turned into the dark of your dreams but suddenly, you were back on that island. The sky was black above you with flashes of light from a nearing storm. Turning around, you quickly realized you were alone. You tried not to resort straight to panic but it was hard to do, especially here of all places.

Your feet moved quickly through the terrain as you attempted to make your way back to where you knew your camp was set up. “JJ? Sarah! Hello? Anyone!” Your voice was scratchy as you yelled in hopes that someone would hear you and call back.

Fear bubbled in your chest when you couldn’t find camp. Everything was gone; Sarah’s woven baskets, the fire JJ had built, all of the food you’d surfaced, everything. Everyone.

“Someone! Hello!” You spun towards the open water, the liquid black with the night. You were stranded by yourself, with no way home. No friends to help you. “Help, please!”

“Looking for someone?” The voice of Ward Cameron grabbed your attention instantly. He faded into view, covered in blood, and looked like he meant revenge. “They’re all dead. You killed them.”

“What are you talking about?” You mumbled in confusion. Your eyes dropped to your own hands that were covered in dark red, the liquid practically dripping off your fingers. “Where are they?”

“You’re the reason we’re dead, Y/N.” A hand landed on your shoulder and forced you to spin. John B’s figure was standing in front of you with a noticeable bullet wound in his chest. Blood seeped through his shirt as Sarah walked up behind him with a similar wound in her hip.

You shook your head drastically, choking on the air in your throat at the sight of them. “No, no it wasn’t me! I-I don’t even-”

“We told you you weren’t cut out for this,” Kiara’s voice interrupted your desperate pleas as she moved into your vision. “You didn’t pull me out of the airplane, Y/N. Why didn’t you pull me out?”

“Stop!” You sobbed as you backed up to put distance between the three of them. This couldn’t be real. You swore you’d never let anything happen to any of the Pogues.

A sickening laugh came from next to you where Cleo and Pope were standing. Their clothing was smoking, almost ashy in nature. “It’s real,” Pope snapped to confirm your thoughts. “You didn’t save us. You said you would save us from the fire.”

Your body heaved at the sight of all of them, so damaged and lifelike in front of you. “No! I wouldn’t have let anything happen I-”

“You caused all of it.” JJ was suddenly right in front of you, bruises littering his body as blood smeared from open wounds. “You watched as my dad ended my life. Didn’t even move, didn’t flinch. You watched all of us die, Y/N, and you didn’t even try to stop it.”

“Now it’s time for us to bring you with us.” Kie’s grin was devilish as they all surrounded you. “Actions have consequences.”

“Y/N! Y/N, wake the hell up!”

You gasped air into your lungs and sat up sharply as the vision faded to nothing. You blinked tears from your eyes and folded over to get oxygen back into your body. Someone’s hand was warm on your back as they rubbed comforting circles.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” JJ’s voice sent chills down your spine. It was a stark contrast to the vicious, cruel tone you’d witnessed just seconds ago. “Just breathe. I gotcha.”

It took a moment before you could sit back up. You had become too aware of how cold your body was, no doubt from the sweat of whatever nightmare you’d just lived through. “What…What happened?”

“I broke the lock,” JJ admitted as you collapsed into his side and shivered. He cradled you against him tightly. “You were screaming.”

“Sorry, bad dream,” You apologized roughly. Your fingers were clenching the comforter harshly. It felt too real like he would disappear from beneath you in a split second and you’d be facing the consequences of something you caused.

JJ could feel you shaking in his arms. He’d barely gotten any sleep himself, so the second you cried out he came flying. It was hard not to assume the worst automatically. He’d watched you put on a brave face for so long and a break was inevitable at some point. He just didn’t expect you to scream the way you did. He didn’t hesitate to kick your bedroom door in and run to your side.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” The question was soft and felt optional for you to agree to.

You shrugged in his grasp, mumbling a thank you when he handed you the water from your nightstand. Nightmares like this had been happening for a while, ever since the treasure hunting started really. You’d dreamt through most of your memories but through a horrific lens instead. The only person you ever told was Pope, who had told you of similar instances himself. You guys went from being kids who fucked around for fun to life-and-death situations around every corner.

“It’s just like…ever since we started looking for the gold, these nightmares have gotten worse and worse. The scary part is they’re all very possible of being true. Of you guys getting hurt or-or worse? And I can’t even stop it, I’m just forced to watch it all unfold until I lose every single one of you.”

JJ was quiet as he listened to you speak. The wavering in your voice as you recounted what you’d seen made him even more upset that you’d dealt with this for so long. It was no secret your friend group got up to mischievous plans, but to know that it was at the point where you lost sleep over the idea of not having them was heartbreaking.

“It’s all over now,” JJ reassured as his thumb brushed at your cheeks. “Promise. Nothin’s gonna happen to any of us. I wouldn’t let it.”

His words didn’t bring as much comfort as you would’ve liked. Nothing ever really did until you saw each of your friends in front of you and were able to hug them. That’s the only way it ever felt real like the bad dreams were nothing compared to having them around you.

Your phone flashed 4:22 am back in your direction as you skimmed the notifications. You’d have to wait until it was acceptable to call everyone or gather them up to see them. You let out a defeated sigh, “Thanks, J. You didn’t have to come in.”

“Course I did. Gotta make sure you’re safe,” His response brought a smile to your face as you finally pulled out of his embrace. “Do…Do you want me to stay?”

You took a second to consider his offer before shaking your head and moving away from him. “I’m probably gonna stay awake and I don’t want you to have to-”

“Y/N.” JJ grabbed your hand to pull your attention back to him. “Just answer the question.”

You stared at him for a moment, your teeth digging into the skin on the inside of your lip before you nodded in response. JJ didn’t hesitate to wiggle under your sheets. He was a heavy sleeper so it would likely be easy for him to slip back into a peaceful slumber while you tossed and turned the rest of the night.

“Lay down before I drag you to sleep myself,” His voice was raspy as his fingers tugged against your t-shirt until you gave in and shuffled down next to him. JJ’s hand was warm as it reached across your frame to grab your right him to pull you closer until your chest was against his. “Just try, I gotcha.”

You adjusted so your head rest against his chest, fingers brushing his shirtless side before you settled in. Your busted doorframe could be fixed in the morning. You couldn’t hide the fact that you were still exhausted and JJ’s warmth was taking over as you listened to his steady breathing fill your surroundings.

“Promise you’ll be here in the morning?” You whispered shyly. Part of you hoped that was enough nightmares for the night but you didn’t wanna jinx yourself.

JJ’s blue eyes blinked open as a small smile formed across his face. His arm moved until his fingers grabbed yours from his side so he could hold them closer. If this was how you had to spend every night from here on out to keep the bad dreams away, he’d chase them until he couldn’t anymore. He’d do anything to make sure you were okay.

“Gonna be right here when you open your eyes. Promise.”

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#obx3celebration #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x you #jj maybank smut #rudy pankox #outer banks imagine #outer banks #jj maybank fanfic

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ackermanslov4r · 3 years

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MASTERLIST PT.2

link to pt1 : masterlist pt1

levi’s thoughts

a smile

levi was used to waking up alone.

levi loved to listen to you

the words « i love you »

levi had never fantasized about kissing people

levi was afraid of rejection.

levi and pda

jealousy

i was lost within the darkness but then i found you

levi and sleep

levi and feelings

levi wasn’t a romantic man

levi was afraid of love

i once believed love would be burning red,but it was golden

levi and dreams

levi’s behavior

after losing comrades

levi didn’t care for the dates

loving you is the antidote

the moment he’d fallen in love

levi and the world weren’t friend

levi was used to loneliness

levi had always knew the world as a cruel place.

levi knew he was damned from the first moment he saw you

levi had never paid attention to people’s face

levi headcanons

.levi with a s/o who has the same personality as him

.levi while his s/o is sick

.how levi acts after a fight

.levi wasn’t surprised easily

.levi with a mature s/o

.while his s/o is on her period

.levi at his wedding

.levi as your boyfriend

.levi proposing to his s/o

.cooking/baking with levi

.levi with animals

.levi and pda

.being levi’s protege

.how levi will be if furlan and isabel were alive

.how he acts if his s/o has nightmares

.opening a tea shop together after the war

.levi thinking about your future together

dad!levi fanfictions

.levi cuts his daughter’s hair

.dad!levi christmas shopping

. dad!levi x teenage daughter

.dad!levi celebrating christmas with his family

.levi’s first real halloween with his family

levi headcanons

.levi and different kisses

.levi’s ideal type

levi and jealousy

.soft levi headcanons

levi and love languages

levi fanfictions

.reader training too hard to prove their worth to levi

.levi s/o disappearing during an expedition and reappearing around the walls

.a talk about your future

.levi being flustered

.i can’t lose you too

.flustered levi with an affectionate partner

.a fight with levi

.the first who kiss the other lose

.reader kisses levi’s scars

.a talk about nightmares

.”right where you left me”

.y/n does levi’s makeup

.levi comforting y/n while their parents are fighting

.pillow talk with levi ackerman

. the first time y/n tries to cuddle with levi

.a fic where levi is hurt and y/n try to take care of him

.levi and his s/o going to the museum

.y/n falls asleep on levi’s shoulder

.reader is sick and wants cuddle

.levi’s s/o taking care of injuried levi during an expedition

.levi receiving a jar full of notes about what y/n likes about him

.levi proposing under the rain

. « winter » morning fic

.levi and y/n dancing during a ball ( i love this one :(( )

.y/n kissing levi’s hand before an expedition

.we never learn we’ve been here before

.levi discovers his s/o is a writer

.flustered levi

.levi tries to be more affectionate in public

.levi and y/n getting engaged with paper rings

.levi taking y/n back to their home

. « no amount of freedom gets you clean »

levi checking on y/n’ mental health

.levi and y/n divorcing

.levi and y/n fake dating during a mission

.levi braiding your hair before an expedition

. the night before an expedition,reader asks levi about his regrets

.if you get hurt during an expedition if you and levi aren’t dating yet

.levi has a crush on someone he knew in the underworld

.levi sees your leg shaking and puts his hand over it

. “angels like you can’t fly down hell with me”

bungo stray dogs fics

. dazai is a man of theories

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seyenna · 3 years

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Philza and/or Techno and/or Ranboo fic recs

just some of my fav dsmp fics, mainly phil, techno or ranboo bc i’m biased but also a bunch of sbi and others

this one goes out mainly to zablr discord my beloved

pls tell me if the links don’t work

all of these are on ao3

rating\status(complete/ongoing)\warnings\word count\misc tags

ichor flows free amongst the iron by summer_rising

T\o\violence\13k\series\gods AU

Summary:

A gods and goddesses AU of the Dream SMP, dramatized for all our benefits.

First work:

"Two gods meeting on a mountaintop overlooking the stormy sea? Very classy, Dream, I appreciate your taste."

Dream didn't turn to look at him, but the faint shake of his shoulders let Techno know he had heard.

"Scar's healing up nicely, I see," Techno mumbled with a light nod of his head.

"Mhm. Cut nice and clean. Not that I expected any less from you, of course."

The god of power and the god of luck meet on a mountaintop to discuss Luck's standing in the ongoing political disaster.

We're Only Young by ImperialKatwala

G\o\-\66k\series\Dream & Technoblade

It's easy to forget amid the chaos and bloodshed how similar - and how young - Dream and Technoblade really are.

And when the sun comes up, you'll find a brand new god. by SkyboxZoo

M\o\violence\19k\gods AU

Summary:

The wounds from the fight had healed nigh instantly, but the golden blood still soaked Techno’s shirt. His cloak had gotten torn off and his hair had fallen out of its pony-tail. Ichor pooled in his boots. The man left a trail of golden, bloody footprints in his wake.

old gods (new gods) by WriterWinged

T\o\-\9k\series\gods AU

Summary of first work:

Survival, Blood, Madness. Philza, Technoblade, Wilbur Soot. Three gods who have never cared for mortal life, who play with them when they want to, who kill their toys just as easily. How, then, did a mortal end up in their hands?

This House Is A Fucking Nightmare by SilverWing15

T\c\-\17k\series\sbi

Summary:

AU Where Phil isn't quite as willing to stand by while his sons drop like flies

Summary of third part (my fav):

Does lingering too long in the shadow of a god make you a god? The voices in his head seem to think so.

His brothers know he's older than them but they don't know how much

OR: Technoblade doesn't think his brothers realize how different they are from ordinary men. After all, ordinary men may fight the gods, but they don't win.

It's been a long day. by BecausePlot

G\c\-\3k\Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

Sides are bad: he knows that much. He’s seen it tear people apart time and time again, so when he decided to separate himself from Tubbo and keep his distance, he knew he was in the right.

Well. He thought he was in the right, at the time. Sitting all by himself on the steps to the Prime Path, he’s not so sure anymore.

Yes, the sides might have torn the others apart, might have made them so weak that they have no choice but to fold under Dream’s hand, but at least they aren’t lonely.

So are sides bad?

‘I don’t know.’

~*~

Or, Ranboo looks out at the ruins of L'Manburg, feeling more lost and lonely than he ever has.

But, as he soon finds, he's not as alone as he thinks.

the voices in my head, they say a lot of things by rosyasteria

-\c\violence\1k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

Some days the voices didn’t listen. They didn’t let up. They screamed instead of whispered, relentless, assaulting his ears until they bled.

tell them i was the warmest place you knew and you turned me cold by rosyasteria

-\c\-\2k\Techonblade-centric

Summary:

Technoblade cared. But in the end it just fucked him over.

For the majority of his life, Techno felt like less of a companion, less of a family member, and more like a weapon to be wielded. 'The Blade' they called him; never 'friend'.

It Leaves Little Time for Anything Else by mirandible

M\c\-\1k\part of series\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

A young man aims for the top, but fate has other plans for him. So does Technoblade, apparently.

(Or: answering the question of “Why does Techno hide his scars if they’re supposed to be some sort of trophy? Why keep your point of pride a secret?”)

the best requiem is a bar of silence (and I'll sing it, even if I must hold back my tears) by jello12451

T\o\-\10k\Philza & Technoblade

Summary:

He can’t help the noise of celebration that escapes him. Techno- this means that Techno’s free, and he got his horse back, and everything is alright-

Tubbo, filled with rage at Phil’s cheers, turns and impulsively shoots an arrow.

He doesn’t expect to hit his target.

---

Alternatively: What if Phil didn't have a bucket of water when Tubbo shot him?

Change fate by being aggressively kind by sircantus

T\o\-\13k\sbi, Philza-centric

Summary:

“You do understand that you’re caring for the thing meant to bring destruction and chaos to our world, right?” The woman asks, Phil looking behind him fondly as Techno grabs at the ends of his wings.

“He’s just a child.” Phil answers distractedly, humming as his wings get gently yanked at.

“He’s the first of three to destroy life as we know it! Shouldn’t we, well, get rid of him?!”

“Oh, no.” Phil raises his eyes with a sharp glare. “Believe me, I have my own way of preventing the apocalypse.”

---

Or, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy are basically chaotic forces of nature, destined from birth to end the world and bring destruction. Most who hear of the tale of them are trying their best to track them down, and to end the monsters while they’re still young, still just children.

Phil has a different plan.

(In which Phil raises the minecraft equivalents of the anti-christ with love and support, so much so to the point where the world ending is really just a funny thought, and Phil has three kids who casually have powers that are bit more extreme than anything else in the world)

I promised you that everything would be fine by findingkairos

G\c\-\6k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

manifestation: (n.)

1. an event, action, or object that clearly shows or embodies something abstract or theoretical;

2. a version or incarnation of something or someone;

3. an appearance of a ghost or spirit;

4. the Blood God.

When he's young and still alone, still establishing his reputation as the immortal warrior, Technoblade makes up an imaginary friend.

Years later, the blood god is very real and very much a god: one that is prepared to do anything for their first and only friend.

the inner mechanism of a black box by Bee_4

T\c\violence, self-harm\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

Technoblade lets himself get imprisoned for Philza’s sake. He doesn’t plan on being there long. Unfortunately, he’s underestimated Pandora’s Vault.

There are things that will make even the Blade fall apart in due time, as it turns out.

carry all my sins by BananasofThorns

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo-centric

Summary:

Ranboo swallows. “All my armor and weapons and stuff are missing. Fundy and I were gonna go looking for them after the festival, I think.”

“I see.” Tubbo smiles again, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s just a festival. We could probably find someone to lend you a sword or an axe or something.”

He starts towards the stage, waving at people when they call his name, and Ranboo follows. The original panic has dulled to a cold buzz in his chest, but apprehension still wraps itself around his body like chains. He doesn’t like being without his armor and tools; he feels too exposed, and if something happens, he’ll be helpless.

“Ranboo?” Tubbo calls, glancing back.

Ranboo shakes his head and hurries to catch up. “Yeah, it’ll be fine,” he repeats. “Everything’s gonna be fine."

Tubbo grins. “That’s the spirit.”

Rule 5: be loyal. L'manberg doesn't do well with supposed traitors. Ranboo deals with the consequences.

Sojourn by Lacy_Star

T\o\-\13k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

“Well…” Ranboo started slowly, “You see, uh… I kinda… don’t have a house anymore, obviously. Um… Phil found me in—“ He paused, cutting himself off and squinting at the floorboards— very discreet, “Phil… found me. And… um… He said I could stay by you guys. Like, um, by the dog house he wants to build?” He paused, then began to ramble, “But, uh, if you don’t want me here, I understand— and I’m sorry for coming in your house when you weren’t here, I swear I didn’t touch anything— it was just cold outside and—“

Techno just stared at him. And how, how was this the second time this had happened to him? How was this the second time he returned home after battle to discover an injured teenage boy waiting for him, seeking assistance with nowhere to go? And how badly had that ended last time, in nothing but betrayal and insults?

---

AKA: Phil drags a half-enderman home after Doomsday, and Techno decides that they can keep it. For now.

can an axe count as rent? by aboutfivebees

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

Ranboo’s struggling to settle into his new life on the Arctic Anarchist Commune, but at least he’s got bread.

or the struggles of an enderman hybrid to come up with a housewarming gift to give to his friends, who are just trying to adopt him

The Caged Bird Sings of Freedom by StarPrince_Punk

T\o\-\25k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

The Blade's stance was still tense, his body prepared to fight at a moment’s notice if need be. “What’s your name?” Phil asked “My… name?” The Blade asked. “Yeah. Your name isn’t actually The Blade, right? That’s like a stage name?” Phil tried to keep his tone light. “What’s your real name?” The Blade hesitated. “No one… No one’s called me by my name in a long time.” ------- When Phil comes across Ranboo in his panic room after L'Manberg's destruction, it reminds him of when he first met Technoblade. And just like when he met Techno, Phil's first instinct is that he has to help this kid. While living together, Techno and Ranboo learn that they're much more similar than they had previously thought, and Phil learns that it's not too late for him to be a better dad.

This already feels like more of a home by H3118ENDER

T\o\violence, death\18k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

As the ashes of L'Manberg settle the conflict continues to come to life setting the stage for a new wave of blood shed. Stuck slam in the middle of past and present friends Ranboo is coming to learn that even without nations to their names feelings and feuds don't die but people, people do.

A Shadow of a Shadow by unappetizingegg

T\c\-\4k\ Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

There were a few beats of silence, and then- “What are your plans, now? Do you need a place to stay?”

That caught him off guard. Surely he’d heard incorrectly. Phil was offering him a home, right after he’d orchestrated the destruction of his past one? It didn’t make any sense, none of it did. Why would Phil say that?

Then he remembered, he remembered Techno stopping him in the fight. He remembered being handed his book, the question in Techno’s gaze. He swore, in that moment, Technoblade, the Technoblade, had been worried about him. He remembered that he had been told to leave, to run, to get away and preserve himself. He had spared him, he remembered that Techno had spared him.

Techno had helped him. Phil had tried to protect him, to get him away from the danger.

They were there for him.

---

alternatively:

Ranboo is alone. But he really isn't.

Meritocracy by oddsbodkins

G\o\-\18k\Dream & Technoblade, sbi, medieval AU

Summary:

Dream is more successful than he'd ever imagined - but there's one thing that's been bothering him. Technoblade, his biggest rival, the Acolyte of the Blood God and King of the Arena, went missing last spring, just before Dream got the chance to duel him. Without that one achievement to pave his way, all the following victories have felt cheap.

So, Dream hired some goons to dig Technoblade up and pester him into coming back to the Capitol, for one last showdown. Easy enough, right?

Interlude I: "Promises to Keep" by Ozzyyy

T\c\-\1k\part of a series\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

These woods are lovely, dark, and deep But I have promises to keep

And miles to go before I sleep And miles to go before I sleep.

Techno has a plan. It's crazy. It's insane, it's actually just batshit bonkers. But if chaos cannot be enjoyed together, then what's it worth, yeah? There's a certain beauty in watching the world burn from the center of the flames. Phil intends to be there.

I Don't Want To Start A Fight (wouldn't you rather start a riot?) by KryOnBlock

T\c\violence, death\15k\Technoblade & Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

An universal ping rang out from behind him, the third and final he knew, and Phil sobbed, clutching the body tighter.

Techno didn’t move.

It always has been Technoblade and Philza, Philza and Technoblade. Take on half, and you shall never go back.

Sheltered by Lulatic

G\c\-\6k\Ranboo & Technoblade

Summary:

It was cold outside. But Techno never heard Ranboo complain.

That was the best excuse he could muster to keep him out.

Antarctic Princes 'verse by BirchWrites

T\o\-\15k\series\sbi

Summary:

Loosely-connected one shots set in an AU where the Antarctic Empire and the Dream SMP are in the same world. Ordered chronologically, but each fic can be read as a standalone thing

Summary of first part:

Oh shit. Forget arrested; Dream’s going to have to tell Wilbur that he watched Tommy get stabbed for being terminally stupid.

May we cross paths again by QueenLunaFreed

G\c\-\1k\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

“Even if tomorrow it’s just us versus the entire server, Dream, I’m telling you right now - I have confidence.”

---

Dream couldn’t comprehend the pacing contradiction in front of him, the weakness he could clearly see, but would never comment on. Because this man has been defying Dream's expectations since they first met, because despite them not being friends and having no reason to trust each other, Dream knew that Technoblade is the only person who he’d trust to do this right. To destroy L'Manberg alongside him yet again, this time for real.

leave me your starlight by findingkairos

T\o\-\18k\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

For you the world, Phil.

Once upon a time, Philza Minecraft is the only person who does not shy away from the bloody teen that regularly turns the tide of war.

This cements a friendship that will last wars, empires, worlds, and lifetimes.

---

(Featuring: Back to Back Badasses, healthy relationships, accidental deification, intentional world domination, and Phil's past coming back to haunt his best friend.)

#fanfic #dsmp #technoblade #philza #ranboo #zablr #fic recs

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trash-gobby · 2 years

Text

Crow In The Rafters - Chpt. 1

Forward A Chapter -----> Chp. 2

Word Count: 2.1K

Pairings: None.

Characters: Shilo Wallace, Nathan Wallace, Marni Wallace, Rotti Largo, Pavi Largo, Amber Sweet, Luigi Largo, Graverobber, Original Characters

A/N: A fic I originally made on A03 that I wanted to continue here on tumblr instead.

Summary: Shilo wants to escape all that has happened at the opera, however a new player in town may see to it that she becomes even more entangled in the dark world of Geneco and her mother's past.

Link: Repo! The Genetic Opera Masterlist

RATING: PG 13+

⚠️Warnings!: depression, recollections of traumatic incidents, discussions of death, canon-typical violence

The night was a blur. She moved in slow motion, and all other things were just murky colours flashing by. All that could be seen clearly were memories in waking dreams. The shattering sound of a gunshot, the red of her father's blood coating her arms like a second skin. Her back had felt slick like paint with gore, was now clotted and crusty, matted in with Shilo's wig. She stumbled through the front door of her home, which felt less like a prison and more like a home to her, now that it was the only thing left of her father. An empty carcass filled only with bitter memories.

Shilo lay in the fetal position under the covers staring into the darkness of her room. So much had happened and her brain simply didn't seem to process it. She intellectually knew her father was dead, along with Rotti and Mag. No tears would come though. She had already cried and simply couldn't find the will. It made her feel guilty. Why couldn't she cry? Why could she only replay the same events of that night over and over in her mind. Her father told her that her entire sickness, her life, had been based on a lie. He had been afraid of letting her leave and being subject to what she now could see was a cruel twisted capitalist world which Rotti had tried to rope her into being a part of. She didn't know if what he had said about her being the heir to GeneCo was still true. He had died before signing anything as far as she knew. Now was she truly free from it all, to make her own choices, or were the Largo children going to pursue her relentlessly like bloodhounds? All she wanted was to disappear; disperse into smoke, become part of the toxic air and float away into what was left of the atmosphere.

Shilo rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling, focusing on the blackness of it. Had it always been that dark, had her father and mother bought the house as is, or did they paint it and lay down new wallpaper like couples were wanton to do when expecting a new child? The thought just ended up drawing her back to the opera, her father pleading with her, the gunshot and cradling him in her arms as his life slipped away, like sand through Shilo's fingers.

She sat up onto the edge of her bed before putting her head in her hands, trying to rub away the memory. The idea the house she was in was no longer safe was not lost on her. The world now knew about her, and if they didn't then the reporters would be relentless in finding out who she was and where she lived. She needed to find some way to get out of the city as soon as possible. But how? There was no more money.

Shilo rose from the bed and went across her room out into the hall. It was dead silent, still and empty. She made her way to her father's room and opened the door slowly, peaking in. It had been years since she had set foot in it. The last time had been when she was very little and had woken up after having a terrible nightmare. He had ushered her out and stayed with her that night, until she had fallen asleep again, reading a book of poetry by her bed.

The room looked the same now. The bedding plain, a simple dresser, bookshelf, armchair, and desk. The desk was what Shilo was interested in. It sat opposite the bed in front of the window, it's mahogany surface hadn't even collected dust. Like Nathan had just used it and would be home soon. Shilo approached and ran her hand over the grooves carved into its smooth surface absent-mindedly as she took a moment to look out the window at the city she was now free to roam unfettered. A city built on the broken bodies of the dead. One that she had seen at times on fire from her window, when there were riots in the streets against GeneCo. Although that had been a long time ago and it had only lasted two days before the people rioting were taken care of by Rotti's own private militia. The front garden and outside the gate remained empty of people. No GeneCo thugs hanging around. Just the dark front street of her neighbourhood outside.

Shilo had been like a ghost, floating through the house, consuming the food in the pantry slowly and methodically. What she ate didn't even really taste like anything, just styrofoam blandness, like putting cardboard in her mouth with a hint of flavour lying deep underneath. The supply was now running low. Another thing that she would need to take care of. Penniless the only solutions she could think of would lead to her leaving the house for the market square. Something she wasn't interested in doing anytime soon.

Now was time to act. As drawers were opened and rifled through, papers being scattered across the floor, nothing of use was found. It was like a bottomless chasm of forms with various things written on them about appointments and procedures and old credit card statements. However, there was one thing that Shilo's fingers brushed near the back of the bottom left cupboard under a manila folder. As she drew it out in front of her, a metal chain twisted around her fingers. The silver links were weighted down by a pendant. Her fingers ran over the laminate carved surface of the an ivory victorian silhouette of a woman she recognized as her mother in profile. It wasn't super intricately detailed, but Shilo knew it had to be her. She had grown up being haunted by Marni Wallace's face in the halls of their home. The carved piece sent an all to familiar shiver down her spine. The hair held up in a large mass with ringlets falling down her back and shoulders, the ridge of her nose, the feminine jawline, and small chin, which Shilo had inherited were all present. She took the chain and placed it over her head, letting the cold metal of necklace lie heavily on their chest.

Around her lay the remnants of her searching for anything that would allow her to survive the next month. Or maybe the next couple of months. The only place left to search in the room was the one place she felt the most reluctant to look. On another rare occasion in Shilo's childhood she had ventured into Nathan's room. It had been the first and last time that she had been able to go in on her own. Often after that the door would be kept locked in the future. He had said it was because he didn’t want her to mess with his work. It was a delicate thing and any tampering could set him back for weeks, maybe months. She had been around seven, and wanted to explore. There was nothing Shilo had not seen in the mansion. From the kitchen, with its black marble countertops, to the damp cellar, with it’s rotten-wood door, that had expanded to the point of making it near impossible for a seven-year-old girl to wrench open. All that was down there was dusty wine bottles and old furniture, some packed away into moldy boxes. It smelled forgotten to her, and even the adventure of discovering the heirlooms of her family had lost what little charm it had within the course of a week. Eventually her musings and curiosity lead Shilo to her father's bedroom. A place forbidden to her during the daytime, almost as much as visiting her mother's grave was during all hours of the day, unless her father accompanied her. She had fully expected that the door would be locked, and when it wasn’t she had expected that she would hear her father scolding her from the other side of it, for interrupting his work or coming in without knocking. However, what she had found instead, peaking warily around the corner of the large wood door of her father's bedroom was silence.

It looked almost the same as it did now, with the exception of the desk being disheveled in a way that would have only made sense to her father. A kind of controlled chaos that infected everything he did, from his work to the cluttered kitchen cupboards, where the cereal would end up in the spice cabinet and the spices sometimes in the fridge. He always knew where things were, and they were in the strangest places.

What drew her in further wasn’t the prospect of looking over her father's coveted files. Shilo was still learning to read and had no interest in what she thought at the time, was her father's boring medical textbooks and papers. Now she was sure if she’d paid more attention to them, she might have noticed what they really were. Contracts, numbered and dated. Lives that were reaching their expiration.

What had drawn her attention was the half-open door to, what she had always thought up to that point, was a closet. It turned out that it was larger than that.

In current time, Shilo made her way to that same door, opening it slowly. What lay beyond was a long walk-in-closet of tons of stuff that must have belonged to a regal beautiful woman. Boxes labeled in her father's sharp cursive handwriting, elegant dresses lined the walls along with shoes, and near the back of a closet was a victorian style vanity. The mirror sparkled as if it had only been cleaned earlier in the day. In fact the whole closet was extremely clean. The only indication that it hadn’t seen use for a while, was the thin layer of dust that coated the surface of some of the boxes. The vanity, at least from Shilo’s vantage-point, seemed to be spotless. It was as if it had been constantly kept maintained for years even though it didn’t look like it had been used for a very long time.

She knew right away who it had belonged to. The thought made a lump form in her throat. Shilo could picture in the back of her mind, a version of her mother sitting there doing her makeup. Smiling at her reflection. Her father had maintained it up until his passing, and the thoughts of him brought up all those new memories. Fresh wounds. A raspy exhale came from Shilo, which was knotted with tension. The faint smell of him was laced throughout the small walk-in closet. Manila paper, coppery ink and now a barely perceptible scent of blood.

There were a few bottles of old nail varnish, shades of pale pinks and vivid burgundy, which had by now separated, laying upon the vanity and a few larger bottles of sparkling perfume, in their jeweled vail’s. Shilo slowly dropped down into the hard-cushioned seat and looked into the mirror back at her ashen bleary face. It was the face of a girl who had been through hell and came out the other end a complete messy broken shell. Sure she was free, but for how long, and at what cost. She sighed deeply, leaning her head into one of her hands, while running her other hands fingers briefly over her scalp which had finally started to grow back her hair. It was slow coming, but eventually it would all grow back.

Her eyes, cast downward, landed on the drawer to the left of the dresser. She hadn’t noticed that it was ajar, very slightly. Inside were most likely things her mother had used to get ready for the day. Things she had used when she was still breathing. The possibilities of the kind of woman she was had crossed Shilo’s mind many times. Though her father was often content to steep within his grief, he had not been willing to say much to how she had been. Outside of the fact that she was a kind, well mannered, beautiful and had died from what Shilo now knew was poison that Rotti Largo had used on her, he had not mentioned much else. Perhaps she would finally get a sense of the woman Marni was. The mother who had been hidden from her all these years, the enigma just out of Shilo’s reach, the shadow cast over her entire life.

As the drawer slid open with a groan, she looked down into a bare wooden space containing only one thing. A blue leather-bound notebook, fat with its contents. The very idea of what this new discovery laid bare for Shilo made her heart start to pick up pace. After her father’s death she thought nothing could really make her feel anything resembling excitement or wonder anymore. Apparently that was not true.

#crow in the rafters #repo the genetic opera #repo!tgo #repo! the genetic opera #shilo wallace #nathan wallace #repo! fic #repo the genetic opera fic #repo man #marni wallace #graverobber #pavi largo #luigi largo #trash gobby fics

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croissantconnoisseurdinosaur · 3 years

Text

Orphaned idea for fluffy, sfw Kiri-centered time-alter fic

FEEL FREE TO TAKE THIS IDEA! SEND ME A LINK IF ANYBODY DECIDES TO ELABORATE, SINCE I DON’T FEEL LIKE IT!

Summary: In the world of quirks, there is still some magic left in the world — though magical beings tend to stick to the edges of society, clinging to deep woods to avoid being discovered or hunted.

While on a holiday hike that Kirishima practically drags Bakugou to, the two come across magical Dragon Kiri, though it sees them long before they see him. The young red dragon is curious, and gets too close before he’s eventually spotted by Bakugou. Out of fear, the adolescent dragon accidentally casts a spell (the magical version of a quirk — as in he only has this one power and is still trying to perfect it), before flying deep into the woods towards the mountain caves. Disoriented, the teens watch as the fabric of time and space rips open, and two swirling black holes spit out past and future versions of Kirishima.

Bakugou and The Kiri’s trek deep into the mountains in order to find the dragon’s lair, and send past and future Kiri back where they belong.

Little Kiri - 13

Teen Kiri - 17

Big Kiri - 31

The scenes that created the plot idea:

Baku is intimidated by the confidence of big Kiri, and thrown off by the visibly obvious insecurity of little Kiri. It’s confusing and sad, and not at all like the version of Kirishima he has grown to know, which makes Bakugou panicked and annoyed. He accidentally responds with contempt, and little Kiri feels bullied.

“Is that really you?!” Bakugou spits unceremoniously, eyeing little Kiri with disgust.

“Kat, you little shit,” big Kiri purrs, before roughly grabbing his chin to force him to look him in the eyes, in order to threaten him properly, “I love you, but if you hurt his feelings, I will kick your fucking ass.” Something strange comes over Bakugou’s face and he swallows hard.

Teen and little Kiri are staring slack-mouthed at big Kiri (little Kiri with tears in his eyes), until big Kiri smiles, ruffles Bakugou’s hair like a degrading older sibling, and turns to lead the way to find shelter for the night.

. . .

Bakugou and Kirishima decided to sleep in the same shifts. So now they are both awake and watching the entrance of the cave from behind a lit fire. Big kiri and little kiri are slumped together asleep in the corner.

“This is weird.” Bakugou blurts out.

“Can’t argue with you there,” Kirishima sighed, running a hand through his hair, before a brief silence settled between them.

Kirishima had brought Bakugou out here in the first place as a welcome distraction, and to cheer Baku up about *something; hero-training-related-trauma; something.* He doubts this added stress is helping. So he checks in to see.

Deep convo.

Heavy emotions.

Sad Baku. Baku needs a hug.

Teen Kiri tentatively reaches a hand up to just barely brush against the side of Katsuki’s cheek to catch a stray tear. Bakugou swallows hard, not breaking eye contact as the chills run down his spine. As if searching his eyes for permission, teen Kiri then gently cups Bakugou’s chin in a very tender version of the way big Kiri did before. Bakugou’s face blanches, before flooding with color. The blond leaned toward Kirishima ever so slightly, like they were magnetized together, but its so subtle in the dark that kiri chalks it up to a trick of the firelight, and drops his hand to clap aggressively against Bakugou’s shoulder once instead, forced sad platonic grin on his face.

Both of their attention is jolted to the side as little Kiri begins whimpering, hyperventilating, and shaking violently in his sleep.

Baku and Kiri shoot up to their feet.

“What’s happening?” Bakugou demands, varying levels of annoyance laced within the panic of his voice.

“Nightmares.” Big and teen Kiri answer at the same time.

Bakugou takes a few steps back, and big Kiri gently lays little Kiri flat on the ground as teen Kiri rushes to his side.

Big Kiri looks at teen Kiri, “do you know how to help him? I gotta be honest, it’s been about a decade since I’ve last had a night terror, and I barely remember what they were about most of the time…”

“Yeah, we… we still get these sometimes…”

“So who helps you?” Bakugou blurts out, almost angrily, a much softer look in his eyes.

Teen Kiri ignores him and next to little Kiri on the ground, placing one hand on his chest to ground him, and using the other hand to brush gently through his black hair. He whispers various iterations of “it’s okay,” “you’re safe,” “everybody else is safe,” and “you’re just dreaming.”

Finally, little Kiri wakes up. “Hey!” Teen Kiri smiles, “welcome back!” Little kiri appears shell shocked, and lost for a moment, before becoming flustered.

“C-can you let go of me? It’s weird…” little Kiri complains, completely red in the face, as he sits up, unable to look at teen Kiri in the face.

“Kinda weird to gay-panic over an older version of yourself bro, but okay.”

“HEY!” Teen Kiri yells in a scolding panic, eyes flicking to Bakugou before drilling back into big Kiri’s smirking eyes.

“Don’t worry, you can trust Katsuki to keep your secret…” there’s something akin to mischief in his eyes as he stares at Bakugou.

Bakugou is glaring at big Kiri with wide eyes, and an inquisitive expression behind them.

“Oh… Good… Well, thanks Bakubro!” Kiri turns to him and beams like the sun. Bakugou’s eyes drift over to him and catch, staring at him for just a few seconds too long, beginning to blush as he shifts on his feet.

“Whatever, idiots… I’m getting some sleep.”

. . .

Hours later, everybody is asleep (except for big Kiri, who’s turn it is to keep watch) until dawn. Little kiri has slumped back down against big Kiri’s side, and teen Kiri has fallen asleep next to Bakugou.

At some point, teen Kiri starts to toss and turn with nightmares. This wakes Bakugou up, and he starts to panic. He tries shaking Kiri awake, which just makes him more distressed, so he has to change up his course of action.

Bakugou tentatively begins to brush through his hair and whisper the same comforting things that teen Kiri had whispered to little Kiri when he was having his nightmare.

The noise wakes little Kiri up, and he watches them in awe. A chuckle from big Kiri draws his attention to where big Kiri is grinning broadly.

“My Katsuki back home is not gonna believe this…”

Little Kiri looks from big Kiri to teen Kiri, now sleeping peacefully with a small grin on his lips. Bakugou lays his head back down to sleep, but leaves his hand resting on Kirishima.

#kiribaku #bnha bakushima #kiribaku fanfic #kiribaku fluff #bakugou katsuki #Kirishima Eijirou #eijiro kirishima #bnha #bnha fanfic #my hero academia #orphaned fic idea #fic prompts #quirk accident #dragon kirishima

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nightsjourney-into-thedreamscape · 3 years

Text

About my Universe.

The world has changed since the fall of Wiseman. The night dimension returns to it's natural balance between dreams and nightmares. Both have no mass reign of power between them and will clash for right over the dreamer. Nightopia ------------- Nightopia has entered it's golden age of dreams. 12 doors appear in the center of the gateway between the world of dreams and the waking world. Time has began to flow and so does the voices that call out from chips. The doors 12 doors stand before you at the gate. Which door is yours? Which lucid dreamer is behind door color PINK? find out! Nightopians -------- Nightopians finally can flourish once more. The link gauge will keep these buddies from just going extinct. The link gauge is a new fangled machine expresso made It takes chips and flies about to drop them onto nightopians. The presure from wiseman has lifted stress off their life span... yet still hunted for fun. A healthy nightgarden is a happy dream. Owlets --------- - Owl: tutorial on history, dad jokes, retired, sleepy - Latte : knows about creatures. Wants you to find octopaw, Timtams, Dreambies, Blisfulies, Cloudogies, -Frappe: Loves beautiful works of nature will probably scribble it all down. -Macchiato : Documents nightmaren behavior... will help you if you get stuck. -Cappuccino : Collects dream drops, chips, and will keep them on them for storage. -Expresso: Shop keeper of your dreams. you want to will a hat into existence? what about play food, want your outfits from the past back? got it. Christmas, Halloween, valentines day? mmmhmm he's got everything for chips. he's friends with a very special someone who needs chips. Visitors and voices ------- Chips are the voices of dreamers who can only barely reach the night dimension they often chip in their opinions, questions, concepts. (Small questions, thoughts, compliments. ) Sometimes people can fade into the dimension. for very short periods of time. Everyone wants to meet them however dream dimentioners should be patient not to jump on the visitors. (Character interaction (you), Anons being silly) NiGHTS ----------- Playful creature of this dimension with a curious past... Wants to have fun and show you a good time. Desires to befriend you and see your dreams. "Wait a minute but isn't there 15 doors in th-"Lots to explore, secrets, Easter eggs and more. (shenanigan's with other universe characters just for funsies) Has a lot to think about when they're alone... Many burnt bridges. Victories and old friends. Nightmare ----------- A twisted land of fear and the unknown. Bursting with what remaining power Wiseman once absorbed for himself. Fabric and gold and jewels containing his evil essence is still scattered across nightmare ready to strengthen those with it's overwhelming power. Reala -------- Ruler of nightmare. The formal loyal second hand mare of wiseman. Has taken the reins to keep nightmare from collapsing. He needs all the mares he has to upkeep everything, In quest of rebuilding the fallen plains. He needs your ideya willingly or forcefully. He's seen plenty of marens fall to the hands of wiseman. If only his old master knew the fate of Nightmare that he left them in. Wants revenge on NiGHTS. Who knows if they'll ever see eye to eye again on things... First level nightmaren -------------------------- Jackle -------- Proud, loud, and ready to read off your fate. Now is Realas second hand nightmaren. With Realas blessing he's now 100% first level nightmaren after they collected some of wisemans residual power. He's back in buisness to cause the most obscure fear endusing dreams. Bomamba ------------- After searching the depths of nightmare. She was found insane and starving. ... You know what ever happened to her cats....? Skinny bo peep... has lost her kitties... you know at least they're still in her... ...Heart? Donbalon (Wip of new name after re-drawn) ----------- Once as curvy as puffy... now he's just torn up... she tried to sew him back together again... but the look in his eyes now is way scarier than he ever

was. I guess you could say Wiseman still has his nose.... Second level nightmarens ------------------------------ Puffy: Setting up the show behind the scenes. Claws: Beefing with Cerberus. Gotta keep those pups in check. Gilwing: wants to see you again. Gulpo: Hungry and ready for round 2. Girania: Inside sparkles like jewels... but now it's reinforced their stomach. Chamelan: Has learned a few new games. wishes he was as cool as Jackle. Queen bella: Wants to fight on a not lava covered battlefield... watch those fangs. Cerberus: Feed often. Keep nightmaren limbs away from these pups who could make nightmare extinct. Third level Nightmarens ---------------------------- Nice little nightmare. don't you bite. DON'T ALSO EAT THE NIGHTOPIANS. Pesky. carefree nightmares. They are not strong. Easily overcome by simple happy thoughts. Fun to take care of. if you want to let them bite you for food... if not nightopians work just fine... ((I always thought you could keep them alive by them attacking you..))

Selph ------- Being of uneventful nights. Where they came from is.... unknown? Or is it...? Collector of chips. obsessed with visitors... most of the time they're with you... sometimes. they'll let you visit NiGHTS. Maybe Reala. Depends on how lucid you are. They eat the stress from your normal day away. "I am the one who has you most of the dreamtime..." "When we are together there is no memory greater." "Even when you forget me... I'll be here in the clouds of sleep. " "I can only fight off awakers for so long... Perhaps they are fond of you as well." "In-between dream and nightmare, I will always hold you dear."

((... this was before I learned clicking jpg instead of png will murder any drawings quality)) Mepians ---------- Not quite a nightopian... not quite a nightmaren... They're unloved and look to you for knowledge and love. They're fond of their hero too. Awakers ---------- Little blobs that take you back your world. They're harmless. Sometimes visitors have problems with being beloved by too many awakers... They don't like NiGHTS, Reala, Or Selph. Mostly because they take them away ... so they gather in numbers... They just want to see you home safely though... but NiGHTS has a problem with them giving too much attention to certain visitors... it's just not normal for them to wake up so much. Illuvsions ----------- Have you ever had a weird dream about a crush? someone you're just intrested in... Or just even strange romantic feelings about a creature or a thing. It's probably a Illuvsion. They take forms of ones you love are sustained by your feelings. These neutral creatures appear in dreams and you could be happy with them... but finding them in a nightmare... cause major affects on ones psyche.

#nights into dreams #nights journey of dreams #nights jackle #Jackle #Reala #NiGHTS #nights journey into the dreamscape #njitds #njitds au #nightmarens #nightmaren #nights reala #2 purple doors stand away from the gate two strangers stand together then four now 6 will 2 more meet again for another fated love?#1 door stands broken ready to open up to different universes. who will it be...

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ohscorbus · 4 years

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I had a thought while watching one cc show that when Scorpius first got back he accidentally slipped and called Draco “sir” instead of “Dad” and then he has to tell Draco everything about who he was in the dark timeline - do you think that could happen?

Oh I think this is exactly how it happens. I’ve actually had this headcanon for a while. Scorpius stands in McGonagall’s office and tells them what happened because he has to, but he skillfully skims over the details about Draco. He does it to protect his dad. To spare him the judgment from others, save him from his own, and partly because saying it out loud makes it real in this world too. No, Scorpius is going to bury it because that’s what is best. Except Draco can tell when he’s holding something back. He always has. But Draco decides not to call him out on it in front of an audience. He’ll ask him about it later on. Except there is no later on. Scorpius goes missing again and Draco fears his own failings have finally caused him to lose his boy.

Between their return, recovery, and classes, this specific issue doesn’t rear its ugly head again until the summer. Despite the reveal of Delphi’s true identity and intentions, McGonagall still enforces their cancelled Christmas and Easter is spent catching up on missed classes, so Scorpius doesn’t get back home until June. It’s been months since the events of October and so he’s been lulled into a false sense of security. But that first night home brings back the nightmares tenfold. He thinks it’s just because this is the first time he’s been separated from Albus since… since that place. And so he writes a letter the very next day and makes sure to place a photo of the two of them together on his bedside table. He goes to bed that night hopeful but wakes up in a cold sweat and a silent scream on his lips. This goes on for a week until that scream finally escapes his throat and Draco rushes in, wand raised ready with a lumos. But in the murkiness of sleep and the confusion between dreams and reality, Scorpius is blinded by wand light and then struck by fear of the loose blond hair behind it. He doesn’t register his dad’s mirrored horror, just of what could possibly be following it. He violently flinches back and gets out a ‘sorry sir’ before he’s even realised what he’s done. Draco is silent. All that can be heard is Scorpius trying to catch his breath between barely suppressed sobs. Then suddenly the lights are on and Draco slowly approaches, wand out of sight and hands where Scorpius can see them. Draco has no idea what’s happening but as he looks from his son’s trembling body to the letters and photos scattered on the bed beside him, it all falls into place.

“Scorpius… it’s me. Do you need me to get Albus? I don’t care what time it is, I’ll make sure Potter sends him through.”

That makes Scorpius choke out a laugh. He can just see his dad arguing with Harry through the Floo as Ginny ignores them both and tries to wake Albus up because she knows like mums always know. And as nice as it would be, to have the confirmation he’s okay, Scorpius doesn’t need that right now. Albus is safe at home with his dad. So why did he just now feel like he wasn’t safe at home with his? That’s when the guilt sets in and those words start to playback in his head. He must look like he’s going to be sick because Draco moves as quick as he can, clearly trying not to startle Scorpius again, but needing to reach the small bin by his desk for Scorpius to throw up into. He makes it just in time, but the gentle hand rubbing the back of his neck only sets off his tears again. He’s not afraid anymore, just ashamed of ever thinking his dad could hurt him. So he confesses it all. Sat there in his sweat soaked pajamas and smelling of sick. Scorpius can’t look at his dad as he spills their worst fear. But as he feels Draco start to retreat into himself, Scorpius looks up and fiercely tells him he’s not that person. He speaks with as much passion as Astoria would whenever she told him he was a good man and the kind of dad Scorpius deserved. The best. They know they need to talk about this again someday but for now, it’s enough. Draco vanishes the sick and freshens Scorpius’s pajamas and asks again about fetching Albus. Scorpius properly laughs this time. He says no and waits a beat before nervously asking if he’ll stay instead. Just until he’s fallen asleep. Draco gets on the bed beside him and lowers the lights. He pulls out a photo of Albus and Scorpius from underneath his back and asks Scorpius when it was taken. It’s exactly the right thing to do. Scorpius is smiling before he’s even launched into the tale of Albus chasing his last chocolate frog around the empty common room on Christmas day. He falls asleep with a smile still on his face and Draco stays long after it’s faded. He turns his head and looks across at the photo of Astoria also on the bedside table. He feels all the love and loss and failure and progress he’s experienced in the last hour alone and can’t stop the few tears that escape.

The next morning he’s awoken by a kick to his shins and Draco is taken back to Scorpius’s toddler years. He sits up and looks down at Scorpius still fast asleep and makes a decision. He quietly gets up and heads straight to the Floo. He manages to catch Harry as he’s eating breakfast, already dressed in his robes ready for work. He gets straight to the point. Scorpius had a bad night and while he’s better now, he knows he’d really appreciate a visit from Albus today. He knows Harry doesn’t want him at the Manor but he asks, father to father, if he’d put aside their history again for the sake of their sons. Harry must see the desperation in his eyes and as much as he hates that, it’s worth it when Harry finally promises to send Albus through as soon as he’s awake, if he wants to go. That makes Draco laugh. “I’ll see him shortly then. And thank you.”

When Scorpius comes down later on, it’s to find his dad and Albus sat at the table together. He doesn’t know who to run at and hug first. Luckily Albus is up and moving towards him before he has to make a decision, but once he’s over the initial shock of Albus finally visiting his home, he turns to his dad and gives him an equally bone crushing hug.

“Thank you. For Albus and you know, for last night.”

Draco lovingly pats down his son’s messy bed hair because there’s nothing to say. Scorpius should never need to thank him for that. He’s still learning, but he knows that’s what dads do and Draco, ever the Malfoy, is going for gold. So he pushes him back towards Albus who’s clearly itching for a tour. He’d just been telling him how Scorpius would use the ladders in their library to play hide and seek fearlessly up on the shelves. The image of a seven year old Scorpius hiding amongst the books had him laughing. He knows he can’t wait to tease him about it. So Draco ushers them out of the kitchen with the promise he’ll let them know once breakfast is ready. As the door shuts behind them, Draco stands there for a second and just listens to them talking and laughing as they catch up. The sound erases any reminding doubt that they can’t get through this. Toddler or teenager, Scorpius will always bounce back. Just like Astoria said. And if she’s right about that, then maybe they’re both right about him being a good man too.

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

(I often wonder if Draco would ever cut his hair or at least offer to after Scorpius’s strong reaction to it loose. But the more I think about it, the less likely I think he would. I’m sure he’d do it in a heartbeat if Scorpius asked or if it was a persistent issue. But it’s not. It was just that once. Plus, I personally think his long hair is a link to Astoria. He may have initially grown it out because he’s a Malfoy, but I think he keeps it like that because Astoria liked it. I imagine her reaction the first time he got it trimmed when they started dating told him so. Ever since then he’s always kept it long for her. I think Scorpius knows this too. I’m sure she often told him she loved his hair as much as she loved his dad's. So even if Draco does offer, he’d tell him no. His mum loved his long hair and he refuses to let that world tarnish that memory. Draco would agree, but he’d also keep it strictly tied back afterwards. It stays like that until the following summer when Scorpius cheekily uses a quick charm to undo the ribbon and laughs as his hair falls in front of his face, covering the pages of the book he’s reading. He doesn’t do it to prove he can cope, that doesn’t even cross his mind, he does it because his dad promised him a trip to Flourish and Blotts and he’s given up waiting patiently for him to finish his chapter. Draco threatens to cut his book allowance but they both know he doesn’t mean it, especially not when Draco realises Scorpius didn’t react just now. From that day forward, Draco doesn’t always bother to tie it back in the mornings or at all on days when it’s just the two of them. But it takes another couple of weeks for Scorpius to realise his dad is wearing it down again. He immediately gives him a hug in silent thank you.)

#1600+ words of draco and scorpius hurt/comfort anyone???#scorpius malfoy #draco malfoy #albus severus potter #scorbus #malfoy family #text post #mypost #long post #Anonymous

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simana-x · 3 years

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Masterlist of all my fanfics, so you don’t have to go scrolling through my blog looking for them. These links take you to AO3, but all of these fics are also available on FF.net under the same names, if you prefer that website.

My Hero Academia:

* Together We Are Strong https://archiveofourown.org/works/23648248

- The remaining Rooftop Boys are left reeling in the days following their friend’s death. Nemuri Kayama, aka Midnight, must deal with one’s illness and another’s self-imposed isolation, while struggling to cope with her own grief. Based off my tumblr headcanon.

* Ultimate Move: Hearbeat Distortion! https://archiveofourown.org/works/29109339

- Jirou seeks assistance while developing her ultimate move.

Fairy Tail:

* Failure is Not an Option https://archiveofourown.org/works/25095184

- He was meant to be the greatest wizard in the world. No one could touch him. He couldn’t be defeated. Because then his father would be angry. And no-one wanted to make his father angry. Set shortly before the Nirvana Arc.

* Aftermath https://archiveofourown.org/works/25095343

- Many lives were saved in the instant time was turned back. But the memories of what could have been still linger. Set some time after the Grand Magic Games Arc.

* Family https://archiveofourown.org/works/26954026

- Jellal reflects on his new family. Written for Day 1 of Crime Sorciere/Oracion Seis Week 2020.

* Redemption https://archiveofourown.org/works/26969221

- If you wish to achieve redemption, you must first apologise for your actions. Written for Day 2 of Crime Sorciere/Oracion Seis Week 2020.

* Goodbyes https://archiveofourown.org/works/26998396

- Midnight says his goodbyes as he lies dying on the back of Nirvana. Written for Day 3 of Crime Sorciere/Oracion Seis Week 2020.

* Scars https://archiveofourown.org/works/27016492

- Behind every scar, lies a painful story. Written for Day 4 of Crime Sorciere/Oracion Seis Week 2020.

* Memories https://archiveofourown.org/works/27071098

- Some people have more bad memories than good. Written for Day 5 of Crime Sorciere/Oracion Seis Week 2020.

* Bring Him Home https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607643/chapters/67540835

- When Freed is the only one left standing in the wake of Tempester’s attack, Laxus charges him with getting their friends back to the guild. Written for Freed Appreciation Day 2020.

* We’re Going To Be Friends https://archiveofourown.org/works/27574784

- Erik finds a new friend in the Tower of Heaven. Written for Day 1 of Fairy Friendship Week 2020.

* With A Little Help From My Friends https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597863

- Midnight tries to keep his newfound interest a secret. Angel has other ideas. Written for Day 2 of Fairy Friendship Week 2020.

* You’re My Best Friend https://archiveofourown.org/works/27743152

- Erik is the glue that holds them together. Written for Day 3 of Fairy Friendship Week 2020.

Hetalia:

* A Price To Pay https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094641/chapters/60791011

- Prussia lived on after his country’s dissolution, but what is the price he’s had to pay for doing so? Upon his return from a World Meeting, Germany discovers his brother has fallen seriously ill, and it’s up to Germany to nurse him back to health. Will he succeed?

* Just A Dream https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094977

- Prussia has a nightmare, and Germany is there to comfort him.

* Once A Family https://archiveofourown.org/works/25095601/chapters/60793609

- Once a family, always a family. Nordic story, Denmark-centric. Five times Denmark was there for his family, and one time his family was there for him.

Some of these fics aren’t complete yet, but I have every intention of finishing them all. At some point.

#fanfiction #archive of our own #my hero academia #fairy tail #hetalia #masterlist #simana’s fanfiction #simana

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pocketfulofpolin · 3 years

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Survivor (9-1-1 fic)

Part of my Alice Verse (link). This is the alternate version for Protector

In the wake of the lawsuit, Buck felt like a outsider at the 118. After the unexpected arrival of his daughter (and the sudden loss of an ex girlfriend), Buck makes the decision to have a fresh start. Returning for his sisters wedding five years later, is there any chance for a new start between old friends?

Can be read here or below

“ ...Mr Buckley, do you understand?”

Buck moved out from his thoughts, the voice of the doctor finally forcing him to acknowledge her. She sent a look of concern in his direction, and he gave a small nod. It was a tiny hint that he recognised the seriousness of the conversation they had just been apart off. His eyes moved to the new arrival which had just changed his entire world.

Ali.

He hadn’t heard from her since they had broken up. She had told him that they couldn’t work, if he chose to return to firefighting. He had chosen his career - his passion. She had chosen freedom, removing herself from his life. As he looked towards the precious addition they had created together, he couldn’t believe that she hadn’t reached out at any point over the past nine months. He would have stepped up, ensured that she wasn’t alone.

Life had changed in the blink of an eye.

He had received a call from a nurse the moment his shift had ended, asking him to attend the nearby hospital, as his ex-girlfriend had been involved in a car accident. He had arrived, to find out that she had sadly passed away after delivering a child. A daughter - their daughter, who was tiny, precious and everything good about the cold, unforgiving world. Everything he had endured over the last few months was suddenly placed at the back of his mind. The cold shoulder that he had been given by his friend - family - and the exile he had been placed within was no longer important.

Everything was different.

She was precious.

Tiny, with blotchy pale skin and tufts of dark hair. The perfect combination of her parents, as she slept unaware that her life had been disrupted the moment she entered the world. Buck reached out, gently stroking one of her hands. He silently vowed to protect her, making a promise to both his daughter and her late mother that she would be given the best life possible. He didn’t even have a name for her, as he wondered if Ali had picked anything out.

He wasn’t able to contact anyone. He was barely on speaking terms with the team as it was, only recently fully allowed back on calls with them. He didn’t want to burden his sister, who was not aware of the full extent of exile which had befallen her younger brother. For a month, he had been considering accepting an offer of a transfer that only the chief knew he had received.

He had never taken the offer seriously. He had vowed to remain, to work through the pain, to try and reach his family once more. Yet, as he looked at his daughter, he knew that he needed to focus on her upbringing. He couldn’t be selfish, he had to fully grow up, stop being exhausting.

As Buck sunk into the seat next to the sleeping newborn, he started to drift asleep by the lull of the machines. He was unaware that his self-consciousness was already making a decision for him. One that would change his life, but ensure that his daughter was given her best start possible.

—

Buck awoke with a jolt. For a moment, he was confused about his surroundings. He could hear a beeping noise that did not resemble his usual alarm. A nightmare had gripped his dream. A familiar one since the tsunami, which usually ended with Christopher never being located. His sleep had been broken for months, starting with the ladder truck crushing him. He wondered if it would get better, as he reached out and tried to remove a knot that had formed on his back.

Getting his bearings, movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Buck smiled as his newborn daughter wriggled in her sleep. He leant against the crib protectively, his heart full to the brim of his adoration for the small being in front of him. The nursing staff were wonderful, and spent the morning helping the both of them.

“I am truly sorry for your loss.” Jem, one of his daughter's main nurses, had told him as she held teach him to feed her for the first time. She shared stories about her own children's births, and offered him guidance when she knew he needed it. Buck barely spent any time away from the newborns side, other then calling the chief to ask for some time away from the station.

He wondered if Ali had a nursery set up. He wondered if she had ever planned on telling him that he was going to be a father. Had she truly believed that he would be that much of a screw up? Or had he been that unapproachable? It was too late to question, she was unable to provide him with the answers that he desperately sought.

As time trickled by, Buck was left with one of the hardest decisions that he would ever have to make.

“Your Aunt Maddie used to read me her books, you know.” He said quietly, as he held his daughter close to his chest. “I used to pretend to hate them, and would tell her that I was old enough to read for myself. Secretly? I enjoyed the attention that she gave me. Your grandparents, well, let’s just say I was a surprise.” She made a small noise in her sleep, and Buck suppressed a chuckle. “Maddie loved the classics. Still does, actually.”

He tested a few names out mentally. Eventually, there was only one choice. A book that his sister had read him numerous times, which he had fallen in love with. About a young girl who would travel to a mysterious lane, where not everything was as it seemed.

“Your Aunt Maddie always loved the idea of running to wonderland. She used to tell me we would go together, leave our parents behind.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “So, how about Alice?”

The newborn - who had woken just as he said the name - kicked out her legs. Buck took this as a sign of her approval.

“Welcome to the world, Alice Buckley.” He said, testing out her name, and knowing that it felt right.

He didn’t want to leave the hospital, but knew that he had no choice.

Alice was healthy, able to be taken to her new home. The problem was Buck had no idea where the home would be. The apartment was only big enough for him. The stairs would be difficult for a newborn, there would be no space for her to eventually have a space of her very own. He knew that Ali would want their daughter to have somewhere secure, and that had caused him to think a lot of their future.

He felt guilty about bypassing Bobby and going straight to the chief for time away. In truth, Buck wanted to show everything that he could deal with a non-work related crisis alone and without causing his team any stress. Sitting by Alice’s hospital crib over the past couple of days had caused Buck to think, to make a decision that would change his life.

It had been months since the lawsuit, and his team had not forgiven him. Eddie had barely spoken a few words in his direction, and being separated from Christopher caused so much pain. The man he had once seen as a father figure only spoke to provide him with instructions. He had not been invited to a “family dinner” for a long while, making his own excuses when Maddie asked him why. He didn’t want Alice to feel unwanted, to sense that her father was stuck in a state of near depression.

He had spoken to only one person about this. A friend who he had made during his LAFD training, who had eventually transferred to Seattle two years before. He had told Buck about a position that was open on his team, his captain had even reached out, wishing to poach the firefighter who had been awarded with a commendation for his efforts saving members of the public during the tsunami.

Buck had initially declined, wanting to try and get back those he considered his family.

Now?

Alice was his new beginning, his future.

Maybe a fresh start was what they both needed.

#9-1-1 #911 fic #9-1-1 fic #evan buckley #parent evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #ao3 #chapter one #dad!buck is the best

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sandsofoneiros · 3 years

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The Senator

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the canon characters. However, those OCs belong to me. Will fight for them. This is the first part of the series and I know this isn't a lot but it'll grow as I write the other parts.

Warning: Sort of angsty. There's mentions of a panic/anxiety attack. Sensory overload.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x OFC. (established friendship. they also hooked up before.)

Word count: 1780

I didn't tag anyone because I wasn't sure if anyone would want to be since this isn't a long part. So, let me know if you want to be tagged. This does follow after the Insomnia series that isn't really complete but you don't have to read it to read this. I also was lazy and linked the dress she was wearing. So, don't judge me.

Fingers trailed over the dress that was hung up. It was magnificent. She expected nothing less from her mother and aunt. If only her mom were here to see the gown that she had started all those years ago. Her bottom lip quivered as her eyes continued to follow the patterns of her dress. She couldn’t believe this was happening. It wasn’t long ago that she had fought on Exegol alongside the other members of the Resistance. Her soul ached at the memory. They had lost that day. She recognizes the fear that she felt, and it had lessened none since she came back to Naboo. Her place was here now, she would fight from here now. Leaving the Resistance hadn’t been easy and was met with many protests from a few parties. However, they came around when she asserted her concerns about her home planet and the rest of the galaxy.

“A soldier turned senator. Never dreamed I would see the day.” The familiar voice of Kaydel caused Ro to spin around. She couldn’t believe that the other woman was here, given with how busy the Resistance was. It had been hard to keep in contact with them, and she feared it would become harder. It was rumored that Kylo and the Final Order had set their sights on Naboo.

“Kaydel! You made it!” The tears openly fell, and she rushed to embrace her best friend. It had been months since they had seen each other. She sniffled slightly as she held onto the other. Kaydel was one of her connections to the Resistance. The other one hadn’t spoken to her since she had left. That one had hurt the most.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world! You look well.”

Kaydel had pulled back from their hug and looked Ro over. Ro had to praise the ladies that had taken all morning preparing her hair and makeup. It wasn’t a lot, but it masked the dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. Coming home was wonderful, but sleep still eluded her. She hadn’t had a restful sleep in quite some time. She had avoided falling asleep. Too much took place in her dreams. They reiterated too many memories. Night after night of waking up from the horrors, she had relied on caf instead of sleep. It had grown into a routine. It was easier than facing the root of the problem.

“Thank you. It took the entire staff to make me this beautiful.”

Ro giggled before fiddling with the sash of her robe. The pit of tummy was stirring with excitement now that her best friend was here. The ceremony didn’t seem to be too bad now. She wouldn’t be alone. However, there was a question that rested at the back of her mind, but she did her best to ignore it.

“Go ahead. I know you want to ask about him.”

Ro bit her cheek. Nothing ever went past Kaydel Connix. She had been under General Organa and picked up all that she could. She even styled her hair like the former General, but all of them had. It was a way to honor Leia. It still hurt that they had lost her, and especially during this time. They needed her now more than ever, but she was gone. She had given them all the tools that they needed, but they all worried if they could do it. Sighing, she glanced back to her dress. Did she truly need to ask about General Dameron? Did she even have that right anymore? Things had changed now, and she wasn’t part of the Resistance anymore. Their time was over, or that’s what she told herself each night. Still, those nights and stolen hours were close to her heart.

“Has he jumped in an x-wing and blown anything up lately?”

This caused both the women to giggle as they made their way back towards the fore room. She wanted to spend some free time catching up with Kaydel. The ceremony was a few hours away, and she needed to settle her nerves. Sitting on the sectional couch, Ro waited to hear what her friend had to say.

“Well, we tried putting him at a desk, but you know Poe. He’s more of a man of action. He can’t remain still. He’s been flying to all the bases and checking in with them. Doing his finest to vex the Final Order. He’s tired. . . .”

That sounded like Poe. He was constantly moving. The pilot never knew when to stop, notably with saving the galaxy. He was constantly the one for the job. No one else could do it. Those moments where she roamed the base waiting on him to return from whatever mission he had gone on, the nightmares after being captured by the First Order, and the headaches that he neglected. It constantly drove his mind and body past the point of exhaustion. A never-ending cycle.

“Sounds like him.”

What more was there to say? Poe wouldn’t be here tonight, and she realized that. He was somewhere else, fighting. He was fighting for the galaxy and he didn’t have the time for some celebration, even if it was for her. They had merely been a fling. A means of releasing tension and stress during such a troublesome time. Although Ro couldn’t help that she had fallen for him. It had happened before she could even stop herself. It was difficult to identify when she had fallen for the pilot but one thing remained; she wasn’t over those feelings. She thought of him each day and night. Aurora would stare at the stars and wonder if he was flying up there. It was a dream that he might even be here tonight. Yet, there was nothing wrong with wishing.

“How are you and Thalia doing? I know the long distance has made her miss you more.”

Ro smirked as she teased her about the relationship she had with her little sister. She never witnessed a more loving pair. They supported one another. Thalia had remained in the Resistance to support Kaydel. Upon learning that Ro would be a Senator of Naboo, Thalia had come back to support her sister. She had even applied to be Ro’s assistant. Kaydel had supported the decision, but was adjusting to the distance. Thalia had picked up the position with no trouble and had Ro on the right track. Never overwhelming her with meetings and making sure she actually had breaks. She had been the one in charge of sending the message about her ceremony.

“Well, she made sure that I didn’t leave the room this morning until she said.”

A small piece of Ro envied that. Ro listened as Kaydel filled her in on all the details about Resistance projects. Projects that she would try to help with funding. She informed her that Finn and Rose would arrive later. Rey was training for when she had to face Kylo again. But Ro had little faith in the Jedi anymore. She had insisted there was good in that man, Ro had never heard such bantha shit in her life but held her tongue. That was Leia and Han’s son, but there was no light. Nothing could persuade Ro otherwise.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

“Stop messing with your hair, Senator.” The youthful queen, Seraphina, teased as she slid her arm through Ro’s. The queen had just turned fifteen, and Ro couldn’t imagine how she was handling all this. Her hands kept fumbling with the curls that they had styled her burgundy waves into. This night was for her and she had done her best to speak to everyone that Thalia told her would be important. However, the queen had swept her around the room and introduced her to virtually everyone. Ro thought Seraphina thought of her as an older sister. She had plenty of practice with Thalia.

“Forgive me, m’lady. Nerves.” Ro spoke before peering around the room. Hoping to catch the sight of dark curls or see a dazzling smile. Instead, she watched people dancing and chatting amongst each other. Even in this crowded room with some of her friends, she felt more lonely than usual.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you. One of the other senators has shown interest. His name is Ignis. I think you might be close in age. I wouldn’t get too comfortable with him. He’s sly.” Seraphina spoke as she gave a nod to the man that Ro assumed was Ignis. He was tall and lean with golden blond hair that was long and braided over his shoulder. She had recalled meeting him when she had first met with the Queen. He and the others had interviewed her for what seemed like hours.

Ro let out an unsteady breath as she thought of being in that room and having to answer so many questions. Her chest felt stiff, and the music was only getting louder. Everything was growing louder. Her breathing was becoming strained, and she barely could excuse herself from Seraphina. Her vision was blurring. Everything was moving in slow motion and she felt sick to her stomach. She needed to leave this ball room! Tears were building up as she pressed past everyone, but it only brought her to another sea of bodies. She just needed out!

Bursting through a set of doors, she made her way to the balcony and felt her skin prickle at the coolness of the air. The noise from the party was dull now, and she thought she could breathe again. A curse slipped from her lips as she collected herself.

“Five things you can see, Ro. One, the moon, Two, the garden below the balcony. Three, the waterfalls. Four, the lights of the city.” Before she could speak the last number, someone cut her off.

“Five, Poe Dameron.”

The voice made her spin around and emerging from the shadows was in fact General Poe Dameron. His arms spread wide, and it took her no time before she was rushing into his arms. The collision caused him to take a step back before he wrapped his arms around her tightly. His hand cradling the back of her head as he held her tight to him, scared if he let go she would run away.

“You’re here. You’re actually here.”

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world, babe.”

#Poe Dameron x OFC #Mar's writing #My writing #Aurora Citlali #tw: anxiety attack #tw: slight sensory overload #The Senator series

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imagineteamfreewill · 4 years

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Title: Routine

Pairing: Goddess!Reader x Dean

Word Count: 3,752

Warnings: Angst, nightmares, blood/violence

Summary: Y/N discovers that Dean has been hiding things from her, but he still refuses to tell her his secrets even after he struggles to hide them from her.

A/N: This is part four of Consort. Feedback makes the world go round!

Consort Series Masterlist

Become a patron for early access to content!

_______________

Dean was starting to learn that it was difficult to keep track of time while with Y/N Dean and Y/N had quickly fallen into a routine, and though he wasn’t trapped or kept away from the outside world, every day felt exactly the same as the one before. He was pretty sure it had been months since he’d first become her consort, but since he had no place to mark down how many days had passed, there was no way for him to be certain.

Each day that he spent with Y/N moved faster and faster. He would wake up, dress himself as Rosalie, Joanna, and Bethany prepared the room for the day, read, and then spend the rest of his day with Y/N. She showed him more of the gardens, the library, and the baths. There were hallways full of artwork she’d shown him and he was sure that there were many more he had yet to explore. She gave him even more luxurious clothes and showered him with kind touches and happy emotions. Each night she helped him fall asleep, too. Never in his life had Dean slept so well—he always fell asleep feeling safe and happy, and he always woke up feeling refreshed. Sure, he still had nightmares, but those never disrupted him enough that he lost sleep over them. Even before Dean became her consort his nightmares never bothered him.

“Dean?”

Dean looked up from his book at the sound of Y/N’s voice. She was sitting at her vanity, her brush already in hand and a smile on her face as she gestured for him to come to her. This was one of the parts of his routine that Dean looked forward to every day. Doing her hair reminded him of his life down in the servants’ chambers and telling her stories reminded him of his childhood in Lawrence. Some of Y/N’s favorite stories were the ones that his mother used to tell him as he was growing up, and as much as he loved his new life, he couldn’t help but miss his friends and family. He’d left behind dozens of people just to serve one, and sometimes that didn’t feel fair.

Crossing the room, Dean took the brush and waited until her back was turned to begin his work. The story today was one Y/N had heard before, but whenever he glanced at her face in the mirror, her eyes were lit up with interest and excitement.

Another day came, and Dean’s morning reading was interrupted by Y/N, who was standing in the doorway and smiling so broadly he thought her face would split in two if she were any happier.

Chuckling, Dean marked his page and stood from his spot on the chaise, then stretched. He’d been reading all morning because Y/N had claimed she had work to do in the gardens, breaking their routine and leaving him with little else to do.

“You’re in a good mood,” Dean pointed out as he joined her, slipping his hand into hers.

Y/N squeezed it and leaned into his side as she replied, “Only because the rest of my day is free to spend with you, Dean. What would you like to do today?”

Dean thought for a moment. He’d been to the gardens only yesterday, and he didn’t need anything else to read just yet.

“Is there more art I have yet to see?” Dean asked.

Nodding, Y/N tugged on his hand and began to walk, keeping her steps slow until he was at her side. “How was your morning?”

“It was fine. I read most of the time you were gone.”

“And when you weren’t reading?”

Dean hesitated, unsure if he wanted to tell her about his morning conversations with his handmaidens. They weren’t regular talks, but they often warned him of Y/N’s power and her ability to manipulate him, especially his emotions. Joanna was becoming increasingly more fervent with her warnings and her concern for him. She claimed that Y/N had already manipulated him a significant amount.

If he was being honest, most of his nightmares were brought on by their warnings. Dean didn’t want them to get them in trouble—the three women were one of his few links to his life before becoming Y/N’s consort—but he definitely didn’t enjoy the nightmares. Plus, he was wary of telling Y/N in case their warnings were true. What would she do to him then?

Dean was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize Y/N had stopped walking and was holding his hand to keep him from going any farther without her.

“You were talking to your handmaidens again, weren’t you?” Y/N asked. Her eyes were stormy and Dean felt his chest tighten.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

Y/N huffed and let go of his hand. “You were talking with your handmaidens this morning. I know you talk to them often. What do they say to you? And don’t lie to me,” Y/N warned. “You know I don’t like being lied to.”

He had to stall. Y/N couldn’t find out what they talked about. “How do you know I talk to them?”

“I know everything that goes on in my temple, Dean. It’s my home and it has been for millennia. Now tell me what you were talking about.”

“Am I not allowed to have anything of my own? If this is to be my home, Y/N, am I not allowed any privacy?”

“Not when I know you’re talking about me. Tell me what they say to you.”

Dean pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to answer.

“Fine. If you’re not going to tell me about your conversations, then I’d like to hear about your nightmares,” Y/N ground out after a few long moments of silence.

That was a question Dean hadn’t expected. He always thought he’d done a good job of hiding the nightmares, and they hadn’t been affecting him much anyway.

“My nightmares?” he repeated.

Y/N let out another annoyed huff. “Yes, Dean. Your nightmares. What are they about?”

“I’d rather not talk about them,” Dean replied. Nausea built in his stomach at the thought of the dreams. They weren’t pleasant, to say the least. He tried not to think about them because he knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to face the day.

“And if I commanded you to tell me?”

Dean bowed his head and closed his eyes. Y/N rarely ever commanded him to do anything, at least not since they’d first begun their… relationship. He hated feeling like a servant, even though he knew he was.

“Please don’t,” he murmured after a second. “Please.”

The hallway was silent for a long while and when Dean lifted his head again, Y/N was gone. He looked in both directions but she was nowhere to be found.

Sighing, Dean ran a hand over his face and headed back the way they had come, hoping to find her in her chambers. Even if he couldn’t tell her about his private conversations or his dreams, the least he could do was apologize. Much to his dismay—or his relief, he wasn’t quite sure—Y/N wasn’t in her room, either.

The rest of the day dragged on slowly. It felt like an eternity compared to recent months and when Y/N finally appeared in her room, Dean was exhausted. All he’d done was sit around the room and attempt to read, but nonetheless, he was ready for sleep. He was just climbing into the bed when she returned.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back,” he said, watching her as he slid under the heavy blankets and got comfortable on his side.

Y/N hummed in acknowledgement, busying herself at her vanity.

“Are you joining me now or later?” Dean asked.

Y/N hummed again and moved to her trunk. She pulled out her long nightgown in silence, then closed the trunk again and stood.

“Y/N?”

“I’m coming, Dean,” she sighed. “Give me a moment to change.”

Dean didn’t reply, but he was relieved that she didn’t seem as angry as before. He closed his eyes, allowing her the privacy while she changed, and he opened them again when he felt the bed dip beside him.

“Lie on your back,” Y/N said, her voice quiet.

Silently, Dean rolled onto his back and looked up at her. She gave him a soft smile and smoothed his hair back, just as she always did when she helped him sleep. Warmth spread throughout his body and he felt a wave of calm roll over him.

“I’ll be here to keep the nightmares away. If you wake up, I swear to help you sleep. You have my word.”

Her promise was more soothing than the peace she was bringing him. Dean smiled a little at her before closing his eyes again.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he murmured.

“Sweet dreams,” Y/N whispered back.

_______________

Dean knew this was a nightmare. Sam didn’t look like he had when Dean had left—his hair was too long—but his mother’s stoic face still made him want to throw up just as much as it had the last time he’d seen her.

Silently, he followed the temple guards and the rest of the boys that were going to the temple with him. The entire village of Lawrence stood in their doorways, watching their boys leave for their fate. Before he reached the caravan, however, a piercing scream rang out through the air. His mother was on the ground when Dean looked over his shoulder to find the source, and fear chilled his bones at the sight of her. Blood was soaking through the front of her dress and Dean turned around, breaking out into a sprint. He had to reach her. One of the temple guards reached out and caught him, and in a moment there were several more there to hold him back as he struggled to break free. Loud shouts came from somewhere in the crowd and he saw several of the other boys run towards their families as well. One of them fell with an anguished cry just before reaching his brother and Dean watched in horror as blood poured from his side.

They killed him, Dean thought, and nausea built in his stomach as the violence grew even more within the confines of the narrow village road.

“Dean. Dean, wake up.”

Awareness shot through him and Dean sat up in bed, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his lips together as the nausea he’d felt in the dream threatened to make an appearance. He could feel Y/N’s hand rubbing up and down his back, but she didn’t say anything. Finally, the nausea subsided and he opened his eyes again.

“You were having a nightmare,” Y/N explained, her voice soft. “You’re safe here, Dean.”

Dean nodded, even though he wasn’t sure. He’d caught a glimpse of her in the dream just before she’d woken him, and the malicious look in her eye as she’d reached for him made him want to move away from the real Y/N. He didn’t, and she reached over a second later to take his hand.

“Would you like to talk about it?” she asked.

Shaking his head, Dean pulled his hand away. “I think I’m gonna go back to sleep.”

Y/N sat in silence while Dean laid back down on his side with his back to her. He didn’t move away again when she put her hand on his back, and the warmth that spread from that spot was enough to tell him that she was nothing like the Y/N in his dream, at least not right now. Dean let his eyes fall closed again as the peacefulness she provided him lulled him to sleep.

The second nightmare came quickly. He was in the gardens. How he knew that, he wasn’t sure, because a dense, murky fog surrounded him and Dean could only see as far as his hand.

“Hello?” he called. “Is anyone there? Y/N?”

“I’m here, Dean,” Y/N’s voice replied, but she sounded far away, and something was off about her voice. She sounded different.

Dean frowned and hesitantly began walking, unsure of which direction the temple was. “Y/N? Where are you?”

“I’m here, Dean. I’m right behind you.”

Turning around, Dean was greeted by nothing more than another wall of fog.

“I’m over here, Dean.”

“Come this way, Dean.”

“Turn around, Dean.”

Y/N’s voice echoed around him and Dean squeezed his eyes shut. It felt like the world was spinning beneath his feet and he felt sick to his stomach again.

“Stop!” he shouted. “Tell me where you really are!”

A hand on his shoulder made him step away and whirl around, only to discover that it was Y/N. She smiled at him but the smile was all wrong. Her eyes were pitch black and the hungry look she was giving him made him shiver.

“Who are you?” Dean asked as he slowly backed away.

Y/N smiled again and followed him, her gown swirling around her legs as a cold wind picked up. “It’s me, Dean. Don’t you recognize me? Don’t you love me?”

Her words made him pause and she reached out, cupping his cheek in one hand as he tried to formulate a response. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and suddenly his head felt like it was full of cotton.

“Dean? Don’t you love me?”

Slowly, Dean forced himself to nod and the wind around him subsided into a warm breeze.

“There, isn’t that better?” Y/N soothed, and Dean nodded again. He felt tired, so tired. So tired, in fact, that he could lay down and go to sleep right here. As long as Y/N was there with him, he would be happy.

She’s manipulating you, Joanna’s whispered in his mind.

Dean blinked a few times, trying to focus. Joanna’s warning had cleared away some of the heaviness he’d been feeling and he looked at Y/N again. She was still smiling at him, but he saw now that her teeth were pointed and blood-stained. Quickly, he stepped out of her reach and looked around for somewhere to run.

“Dean?” Y/N asked. She sounded hurt by his words, but warning flickered in her eyes. “Dean, what are you doing? Are you going to leave me? I need you.”

“You’re not Y/N,” Dean said. He kept retreating as she moved towards him until finally, his back hit one of the garden’s stone walls. He was trapped.

The wind picked up again, roaring past him and making Y/N’s dress fly away from her bare legs. “Dean! Dean!”

“Leave me alone!” he shouted back.

“Dean, wake up!”

Dean’s eyes flew open. Y/N was leaning over him with concern in her eyes, the image of her angry expression and her blood-stained teeth in the dream was already imprinted upon his mind. He leaned over the side of the bed and threw up onto the floor.

Y/N gently rubbed circles into his back with one hand as he gagged. “You were just dreaming again, it’s okay. I promise you’re safe.”

When his stomach was finally empty, Dean wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and laid back on the bed. Y/N shifted so she was out of his way and she watched Dean in silence from her spot on the mattress. He didn’t dare look at her.

“Are you still feeling ill?” she asked. She reached out and placed a hand on his head, then quickly pulled away. “I can feel that you’re afraid of me. Were you… having a nightmare about me?”

Dean didn’t answer.

“Dean, please answer me.”

“No,” he lied after a moment. “It was about a storm, that’s all.”

“Well,” Y/N soothed, lying back beside him. “There are no storms here, not while I’m in control. You’re safe inside the temple.”

Nodding slightly, Dean rolled back onto his side and tried to ignore the stench from the contents of his stomach. Before he could say anything about it, the vomit disappeared from the floor.

“Did you do that?” Dean whispered.

“Yes,” Y/N softly replied. “Would you like to sleep again?” She ran her fingers through his hair in an attempt to comfort him and he closed his eyes.

Dean couldn’t bear the thought of her using her magic on him right now. “Yes, but I want to do it on my own. No more magic tonight.”

Y/N didn’t reply for a long moment. Finally, she asked, “Is this okay? Touching you?”

The feeling of her playing with his hair was more soothing than he’d anticipated and Dean nodded slightly, forcing himself to relax under her touch. “Yes.”

He fell asleep soon after that, and slept dreamlessly for the rest of the night. When he woke up the next morning, Dean wasn’t as well-rested as normal, and he could feel Y/N watching him whenever he yawned or moved slowly. He knew she was wondering about his dreams, but he couldn’t tell her. He was afraid to know what she’d say if he told her that he’d dreamed about an evil version of her and about the trauma of being taken from his family. When he was sixteen, he’d known it was his duty to leave and he’d done so with pride, but deep down Dean knew that he missed his family. He missed his home, regardless of whether or not he would admit it aloud to her.

_______________

The nightmares continued every night. They were never identical, but Dean found himself becoming more and more wary of Y/N with each day that passed. He went about their normal routine as if nothing was changing, but he knew that Y/N could tell something was different. He was disinterested in the things he’d grown to love about her and temple, and most of the time he was just wishing for another hour or two of uninterrupted sleep.

After one particularly tense morning between him and Y/N, she left him alone to try and sleep while she tended to her garden. He’d climbed back in bed without argument, and he was just drifting off to sleep when he heard the servants’ door open. When he opened his eyes, he realized that it was Garth, one of the other temple men who’d come shortly after he did.

“Garth?” he grumbled, sitting up in the bed and rubbing his eyes.

The gangly servant stood up straight and looked over at Dean. His face lit up with pure joy, as if he hadn’t seen Dean in eons. Though, Dean supposed, it had been a long time since he’d seen anyone beside Y/N and his three handmaiden friends.

“Dean! I didn’t expect you to be here,” Garth said. “No one’s ever in here when I come. I can leave…”

Dean shook his head and Garth set down the stack of firewood he’d been carrying, smiling wide at him from the other side of the room.

“No, don’t go. S’good to see you,” Dean told him. He yawned, then stood up and stretched before making his way over to give his friend a hug.

Garth hugged him tightly. “It feels like we haven’t seen you in forever. ‘Course, we never saw each other much even before She forced you to be up here with her. It wasn’t till you left that they told me I could do the inside stuff.”

Dean nodded and let out a quiet chuckle. He remembered when Garth would come back covered in dirt after tending to the firewood stock outside. While it never rained or snowed at the temple, spending hours kneeling on the ground and handling wood delivered to the temple from outlying villages still got Garthy plenty dirty.

“That’s good,” Dean said. After a brief pause he asked, “How are you? Are you okay?”

Nodding, Garth smiled again. He glanced over at the main doors of the room before kneeling down and beginning to restock the firewood on the hearth.

“We’re great, Dean. We came back from our work one day and discovered that She’d given us all new beds. Actual beds, not just cots like before. There are plenty of blankets to go around, too, and no one’s ever hungry anymore. I think the rooms all got bigger, too. It’s hard to tell. Whatever She did, it’s not as crowded as it used to be.”

Dean listened in amazement as Garth talked about all the changes that were happening down in the servants’ chambers.

She kept her word, Dean thought as he listened to his friend. He couldn’t help but smile as well. The thought of Y/N actually helping the people he’d grown to love made him happy for the first time in weeks.

How come she didn’t tell me?

“How are you, Dean? Are you okay here?”

Dean blinked, focusing back on Garth. “What?” he asked.

Chuckling slightly, Garth repeated himself. “You always had your head in the clouds whenever we talked about Her,” he said with a fond smile. “Maybe your role here was always meant to be.”

“Maybe,” Dean murmured. “I’m fine. I don’t always sleep great, but I’m alright.”

Garth frowned, clearly concerned, but Dean quickly continued. He didn’t want him to make the other temple servants think that Y/N was mistreating him, because she wasn’t. Not exactly, anyway.

“I’m fine, Garth,” Dean promised. “I just dream about my family every now and again. I’m alright here. She treats me well.”

After a moment, Garth nodded. “I believe you.” He glanced at the doors again before standing up and pulling Dean into another hug. “Stay well.”

Dean returned the farewell and watched his friend disappear back through the short doorway. Moments later, Y/N entered the room. She looked surprised to see him out of bed, but only a split-second later the surprise was replaced with her normal neutral expression.

“I take it you slept well,” she said as she sat down at her writing desk and pulled out paper and ink.

“I did,” Dean replied after a moment, his thoughts still hung up on what Garth had told him. “I’m ready for whatever you need from me.”

_______________

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save-the-spiral · 4 years

Note

sylvia drake, lilth? (you don’t have to include mali or cyrus of course i’m just curious about your take on her specifically because we know so little and your headcanons for her are awesome ❤️)

lilt: (n.) a pleasant gentle accent

(link to ask prompt)

Content warnings for implied bullying, mentions of sick animals, PTSD symptoms, nightmares/flashbacks.

Sylvia had what people would call the typical Wizard City accent. She was young (for a human wizard), just turning thirty-seven, and hadn’t had a noticeable accent when she spoke Common, Marleybonian, or several of the Mooshu dialects in years. As a professor she made it her business to learn the languages of her students when she could, and tried to be as technically perfect at speaking them as possible, to be as understandable to the widest variety of students.

She could switch between languages if someone approached her and suddenly started speaking something different, but likely wouldn’t notice the language change unless something that was unique to the language came up.

Most students preferred Common, some stuck to it in order to perfect their own handle on the language, and in some places they already spoke a majority of Common, like in Marleybone where their original languages were being suppressed in favor of a more standardized and controlling language they could more easily enforce on their ‘colonies’.

Sylvia just allowed her students to set the tone and languages for their interactions, though in some cases she would push it and choose the language. It was worth it to see the more shy people, the lamb from a small village in Mooshu, the cat who’s accent in Common was so thick others teased when they thought Sylvia wasn’t looking, they would open up and bloom when able to speak their native language to someone with a firm grasp on it. Sometimes she would spend longer hours speaking with other students, allowing them to teach the more obscure rules of their native language, sharing secretive smiles when Sylvia spoke a sly sentence or two of the language for only her and her student to understand within a full class of people.

Many assumed she came from Wizard City, or Marleybone. They didn’t know her maiden name, and though she married Malistaire, who alongside his twin was more obviously from Dragonspyre, Sylvia just never thought to mention her home world. She enjoyed privacy, and if her students asked how she was doing or about family, she had a tendency to only think of the cats she was caring for, able to go on tangents about them for long enough that students got bored.

Once, her students timed how long they were able to keep her off subject in a lecture period and talking about cats. It was over and hour and Malistaire would bring it up when she joked about him being too edgy in his classes.

At home with Malistaire (and their cats!) they would usually speak Draconic, though they would slip into a different language if they both knew it and it fit whatever they were passionate about. Talking about a Mooshu magical practice in a different language neglected to get the point across properly, as they were both academics. Malistaire tended to curse in Draconic too, when he thought no one was around, and considering there were almost no others from Dragonspyre in all of Wizard City aside from a few refugee families, he usually got away with it.

Sylvia spoke Draconic to the cats as well, though she tried to keep any commands or tricks to Common for the kittens or sick cats they fostered. Still, she would coo over the smallest of her kittens, talk in calm tones to the sick cats she nursed back to health, or simply call out idly to reassure to their elderly blind cat that she was still there, though her hands were full.

Sometimes, Sylvia would go and visit the households of fellow Dragonspyre born families, an old friend, a sister or aunt in all but blood to most of them. She would tear up at the little Draconian or part Draconian children who spoke a different dialect of the Dragonspyre language, their hissing and growls able to modify the language into something beautiful that Sylvia had too few chances to hear these days.

Malistaire, never a fan of crowds unless he was teaching them necromancy, opted out of these gatherings, though he would help her cook dishes to bring to them, and would ask about every person by name.

All of this, and still her students, even the ones who became apprentices or close friends once they graduated, never knew that Common wasn’t her first language, that she grew up in a world that was now post apocalyptic.

Sylvia never forgot it. Just like she never forgot a language once she learned it, never forgot to bring her extra deck of cards, all of them written in Draconic script, and kept them close. It was considered a rude or foolish act to have more than one deck of cards unless one was at war, or questing.

Sylvia was reminded often of Dragonspyre. Whether in the bittersweet, mournful reminiscing she and the others who once lived in Dragonspyre engaged in, or the way Draconic hissed off of their children’s forked tongues so easily, simply, as if the world the language came from still existed. In the soft, sad tones of her orphaned students who spoke of home in present tense and then had to correct themselves, in the roars of flames and dragons from the Fire school that always startled her, in the few memory crystals she had managed to rescue from the academy, in the soft green grass of the Commons where she held outside classes with her younger students.

Those were all idle, sad, simple echoes of a past she could never get back, but she would still grab for it like smoke, not realizing she was clutching at burning embers that seared into her flesh.

The more intense memories came back while she slept, the moonlight illuminating her pale skin, shining on her scars and raised stretchmarks, arm haphazardly slung across the bed to reach for her husband. Then, her face would twist in discomfort as nightmares hit, and she whirled around, a fallen leaf in a babbling brook, one wrong breeze or current away from going under, everything turbulent and not right, dream logic and survival instincts in a screaming match under her skin as she twitched, frowning, whimpering, scowling.

She would wake up with a cut off scream, trying desperately to free herself from whatever held her down, pushing aside husband and cat and blanket regardless of how harmless they truly were. Malistaire would wake to the sound of her alarmed cries, and she would be speaking in rapid Draconic, not stopping because if she could hear the sound of her own voice that meant that she was alive.

Her accent in Draconic was lower class, the accent of soldiers who would never advance in rank, of farmers and simple merchants and the uneducated, and she stubbornly clung to it when she stared down many a professor at Dragonspyre Academy. She would repeat the same words, her voice rasping around syllables many were left unable to speak, having not grown up speaking the language. She would move her hands, the excessive gesturing just as much a part of the language as the words, and she would keep talking.

And Malistaire would sit with her, on the cold floor of their bedroom, and respond in kind, Draconic words telling stories of their home world before it became a husk of lava and brimstone, and he would finish the sayings she spoke, and he would not stop until she calmed.

Malistaire would then send a brief note to the headmaster that they were both taking a sick day, and not wait for a reply, barely noticing he wrote the note in Draconic, not caring anyway.

#ask #anon #anonymous #wizard101 #writing #headcanons #wizzy101 #wiz101 #w101 #malistaire drake #sylvia drake #wizard101 npcs

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insane-control-room · 3 years

Note

Face Reality! :D

One shot.

Wake up.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28632741

“One two three--”

Counted in again.

“We’re pulling you out.”

Moved away again.

“Mr. Drew, this, this is madness.”

Tell me that again, Sammy.

“Joey, I’m here.”

How close to death can one go before they are no longer alive, a moving corpse?

“Your old… pal.”

How close to life can one be before they can breathe once more?

The whole world was turned on its head, all black and white with dashes of tawny sepia, and they avoided looking at each other.

He had worked too hard to lose this now.

One shot.

One shot to save his children, his studio, his family, and his world.

Anger. Hope.

These two feelings are not mutually exclusive.

A punch to the face was enough to flood the studio, sending him running down the hall, sending him falling down the broken boards.

This all was predetermined, all planned.

Grab your axe, lift the tool, get out of my head you lying cheating cowardly--

Find the footsteps of the taller, find and follow, trace them like a detective and ignore the prophecies. Lungs are tightening and throats are coughing, sickness spreading and threatening to burst.

You would not dare stray from the path. You cannot escape this prison of your own making.

Say amen, you are part of the flock now, you might think you are the one, and know, no you are not.

Pray he finds you, because otherwise you are lost for good.

“We’re taking you out.”

Eyes open and lungs fill, useless legs seated in a wheelchair, going over storyboards and plots.

“Please come home,” slips from lips. “We need you here, if we want you or not. Stand up, save yourself so we can save you.”

Slice out his eye-- that is the only way to gain the retribution, kill him at his desk by whipping his soul to death.

“One two three--”

Standing up and facing an angel that lies, a mirror into a soul long gone, obey, you must, or else you will fall even more, like you always do.

You are no angel! Pick the demon! Welcome to the halls you have destroyed!

Go home! Come home! Find your wolfish appetite, for blood and gore, ink and wine, all your darkness is right. Make him shiver, make her quake, push his heart out with a stake, fight and yell and hack and bang! projectors flicker out and break.

They wander after you, they search for your soul, your axe a glowing sign of freedom’s light, so swing away and send them up to heaven, you are their souls growing might.

Welcome to the circus, you are the ringmaster, and he is the tightrope walker, lose your teeth and fall again, you coward! You sinner! Blackness is all you see, their death is all you need.

Waking up, three two one, alive and breathing another day, starvation and determination best of friends, wander down to the garden of spirits and watch the pollen float, and now returning to the crypt, he is a stalking ghost.

How many times have we gone through this same script, how many times have you fallen, and how hard do we hope you will rise?

It cost one his eye, his walk, his digits and his spirit under boulders, wake up! WAKE UP! Save yourself so he can save the world!

After all your trials, your tribulations complete, you stand and wait by his feet. He looks at you, he does not speak, his roar is all you know, you cannot apologize for the sins you have committed on your path to righteousness, and you laugh.

At yourself, your fears and and your dreams, all those nightmares coming to life. You want to join them in the sun of reality, you wish to walk and breathe again? You are the one who killed your soul, with whiskey and with purple eyes, those fumes of fortune and fame clouding your sight, and you left him! Abandoned your heart and let it die! You killed him in the ink, turned your back and painted his coffin black, face the reality you have created!

…

One shot?

One chance?

Dare he give it to you, mute behind a terrified smile?

Your body is gone, you let it fade, abandoned your heart, your love, your passion abated for matters more risque. Do you admit your drinking and your cheating, hacking beyond your domain?

The two of you stand silent, his legs weary and yours inkstained.

Restart.

#the big picture #batim #bendy and the ink machine #henry stein #henry centric #the linework #The Studio #rhythmic #second person #second chances #control art #control writes #death #life #minor violence #thematic

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kuriboo · 3 years

Text

Hugsaku 2021

Day 3 - Things You Said in a Dream | Three Things | Favorite Food | “Oh no I seem to have fallen on top of you and now am too lazy to move. What a tragedy.”

For Hugsaku 2021, I’ve been writing a continuous story with the prompts from each day. The general story is: Yusaku ends up in Heartland with no idea how he got there and Yuma decides try to help Yusaku get home. If you’d like to read the story so far, it’s available in either my previous posts or on ao3. I’ll link to the story on ao3 in the notes.

I ended up using four different prompts for this part, which was more than I expected I’d be using when I first started writing it. I don’t think I ever used this many prompts in future parts, but it ended up working very well for this one. I hpoe you enjoy!

Yusaku woke up screaming.

When his eyes were closed, all he could see was a completely white room. All he could remember was the duels he was constantly forced to go through, all he could feel was desperation, the pain and punishment that came with losing. He couldn’t breathe. Now he was awake and he didn’t recognize anything in the room around him. That only made him feel worse. Where was he? He couldn’t calm down, he couldn’t breathe.

A face floated in front of his. He didn’t recognize it. The face glowed white, with different colored eyes. “Is he sick again?” the face asked. “He doesn’t look good.”

Yusaku screamed again and scooted back on the floor, away from the stranger. This wasn’t home. Why wasn’t he home?

“What’s going on?” A different voice, off to the side. Another face entered Yusaku’s field of vision. He recognized this one: Yuma. Yuma looked towards the stranger.

“He woke up and kept screaming,” the stranger reported. “He did say he gets nightmares. For a second, though, it appeared he was looking directly at me, as if he could see me. Then he screamed again.”

“That’s silly, no one else can see you,” Yuma muttered. He looked at Yusaku. “It must have been a nightmare? But, um, I don’t know what to do?” His voice got louder . “I should do something, right??”

Yusaku’s heart was racing. Breathing was difficult. He felt like Yuma and the stranger were several rooms away. But slowly, his mind started working again. This was Yuma’s room. Yuma was letting him stay here. He’d been dreaming before. The incident was in the past. He had to pull himself out of it.

“Three reasons,” Yusaku managed to get out, “to keep going.” He looked down at his hands. Shakily, he held up a finger. “We need to save Kolter’s brother. We have to help him.” Another. “Ai and Kolter don’t know where I am.” Another. “There’s still a chance… I can get back to Den City.” With each reason, he calmed down a little bit. Breathing got easier. The world around him felt more real. He forced himself to take deep breaths. He took in the scene around him.

Yuma was crouched on the floor next to him. That stranger Yusaku had seen before was real, apparently, and still there. The floating was real, too, so apparently whoever this was could just float in the air, which was weird. Yusaku could feel how sweaty he was. The blankets and the sleeping bag he must’ve thrown off himself in his sleep, because he didn’t feel any different now than he had before he backed away. No difference in the amount of weight on him or how warm he was. It was dark, probably the middle of the night. Yuma looked tired, but still concerned. Yusaku felt bad for waking him.

Yusaku rubbed the back of his neck, feeling itchy. “It’s nothing,” he told Yuma. “Just a nightmare. I get them all the time. Don’t worry about it.”

“Of course I’m worried about it!” Yuma shot back. “‘Just’ a nightmare? You don’t look good at all, for a moment you looked more like a cornered wild animal or something than someone who just woke up. You looked scared. You shouldn’t have to feel scared.”

“Doesn’t matter if I should or not. It’s just the way it is.” Yusaku shrugged. Whatever was ideal meant nothing compared to reality. “I’m probably just not used to waking up in your room. This happened multiple times after I moved to my apartment. It’s nothing.”

“It’s something all right.” Yuma sighed. “What kind of nightmares are you even getting that you’re reacting this badly to them?”

“Real world experience. From the past.”

“What happened?”

Yusaku looked away. As a rule, he didn’t talk to anyone about the Lost Incident besides people that were involved and understood, like Kolter, or Ai. Yusaku didn’t open up to people. He generally avoided interacting with people at all. Nobody uninvolved could really understand. Plus, now he had his identity as Playmaker to worry about. Opening up to people, connecting himself to the Lost Incident, it ran the risk of someone figuring out who he was. And Playmaker needed to be anonymous. Playmaker was a criminal. Yusaku couldn’t keep doing what he was doing if the wrong person figured him out, and anyone could be that wrong person.

But here, in Heartland City, the Lost Incident didn’t exist. It never happened. Yusaku didn’t exist, and neither did Playmaker. So discussing the Lost Incident couldn’t possibly get him in trouble here. He looked at Yuma again. Something told him that Yuma might not understand, but he’d at least try. At least, he wouldn’t judge Yusaku badly. Usually opening up backfired for Yusaku, but maybe this time it wouldn’t.

“I was kidnapped when I was 6.” With those words out, Yusaku couldn’t stop, so he kept going. He didn’t look at Yuma as he explained what happened, but out of the corner of the eye he could see the stranger floating above them. The stranger didn’t seem judgemental, though, they just looked down at him and listened with a curious expression on their face. “After a few months, we were found and rescued,” Yusaku finished. “But I still have nightmares about it 10 years later. I’ve never really been able to move on.”

“That’s awful.” Yuma teared up. “I’m sorry something like that happened. If I was there, I’d…”

“You would have been way too young to do anything about it if you were even alive then,” Yusaku pointed out.

“Hey, I would have been 1!!” Yuma puffed out his cheeks. “Who cares how old I was, I would’ve done something no matter what! Age means nothing if I’m feeling the flow.”

“Whatever.” Yusaku rolled his eyes. “What’s done is done. It doesn’t matter either way.”

“Of course it matters,” Yuma protested. “If you have nightmares about it and it still hurts you, then it matters, because you matter. Well, in this case, there’s only one thing to do.” Yuma collapsed on the floor next to Yusaku.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh no, it looks like I’ve accidentally fallen on top of you, and now I’m too lazy to move. Guess I’m stuck here all night. Maybe you’ll sleep better if I’m here next to you.”

Yuma wrapped his arms around Yusaku in a hug, further cementing the fact that he was really going to stay there all night.

Yusaku sighed. He wasn’t going to be able to push Yuma away from him, and even if he did he knew by now that Yuma would just come back. He might as well live with it.

Still, something was bothering him. He pointed up at the stranger above them. “Do you know who that is?”

Yuma looked from Yusaku, to the stranger, then back to Yusaku, then to the stranger again. “Wait, you can see Astral??”

“Most peculiar.” The stranger-- Astral-- brought a hand up to his chin. “No humans besides Yuma have been able to see me so far. Have you been able to see me the whole time, or is now the first time?”

“I saw you when I woke up. Not before then.”

“I wonder what prompted this change?” Astral asked. “I’ve spent more time around Yuma’s other friends than you, but they still cannot see me. Maybe there’s something special about you.”

It seemed like Astral wasn’t an imaginary friend after all. Yusaku didn’t appreciate the comment about Yuma being his friend, but he was too tired to point it out or to think about why he could suddenly see Astral when he couldn’t before. All he could do was fall back asleep, pulled back towards it by the extra warmth Yuma’s arms provided him.

Yusaku woke up to the smell of something burning. He checked the time: it was fairly early in the day. Who was burning something this early? He looked around the room. Astral and Yuma weren’t here, so it was entirely possible that Yuma was the culprit. Figuring he better go check on him, Yusaku got up and followed the smell to its source in the kitchen.

He found Yuma in the house’s kitchen, perched over a pot on the stove. In a panic, he tried to grab it off the stove before yelping from pain. Yusaku sighed. If something had been cooking in the pot, then clearly it was hot and not to be touched with bare hands. Only a fool would do something like that.

Astral floated above Yuma, watching his work. “Interesting. Observation: contact with metal can sometimes cause pain to humans.”

“It’s because it’s hot,” Yusaku clarified. He walked across the kitchen to close the distance between himself and Yuma and Astral. “If you touch something really hot, it burns you.” Yusaku stared at Yuma. “What’s going on?”

“Oh. Uh.” Yuma blew on the part of his hand that touched the pot. “It’s kind of a complicated story.”

“I have time.”

“Well… You were talking in your sleep. About hot dogs?? It sounded kind of like you liked them, or at least, that’s what Astral thought. So I thought maybe if I made some hot dogs it would cheer you up? I mean, you had a bad nightmare last night, and being stranded in some other world has to be stressful for you. You know? But I kind of accidentally burned them…” Yuma laughed nervously. “So much for that, huh?”

“You never cooked hot dogs for me, Yuma.”

“You can’t eat human food, Astral! We already tried!”

Talking in his sleep? As far as Yusaku was aware, he didn’t talk in his sleep much. Maybe being in Heartland City was causing something weird to happen to him. Maybe that was why he could see Astral now. But he had been dreaming. It had been a nicer dream for once. He was visiting Kolter at Cafe Nom, like none of this ever happened. It was...nice, actually. He missed that more than he’d think he would. And Kolter did give him a hot dog in his dream…

Yusaku spent more time around Kolter than he did anyone else. He included school in that as well, since Yusaku skipped classes occasionally and Kolter and Yusaku pulled more all-nighters together than anyone else probably should. And now, Kolter wouldn’t let Yusaku pay for hot dogs and coffee anymore (though he did try to limit the amount of coffee Yusaku drank). He pretended to keep some sort of running tab for Yusaku while refusing to let him pay any amount of it off. And Yusaku only started eating hot dogs in the first place to have a reason to be at Cafe Nom that was actually legal, but by now they’d grown to be his favorite food. Yusaku did tend to stick to eating cheaper food anyway. Yet, hot dogs were still the winner. Some days he barely ate anything else.

Yusaku stared at the pot of burnt hot dogs. All burnt food smelled bad, and hot dogs were no exception. They weren’t going to be edible. It was a disaster on all accounts. But Yuma had done it thinking of him. Yuma’d gone out of his way to do something he wasn’t asked to do for him, with nothing for Yuma himself to gain from it. Yusaku didn’t know how to respond to that. Friends did this kind of thing for each other, right? Yusaku was rarely on the receiving end of something like this, and never on the giving end. That required having friends at all.

“Thank you,” Yusaku managed. Hopefully that was good enough.

“For what?” Yuma sounded confused. “For burning your hot dogs? That’s a weird thing to thank someone for. What, do they eat burnt hot dogs where you’re from?”

“No.”

“Then what are you thanking me for?”

Yusaku sighed. “Nevermind.”

“I believe that Yusaku was actually thanking you for the sentiment rather than the hot dogs themselves, Yuma,” Astral explained.

“I didn’t send anyone mints,” Yuma said.

“Nevermind.” Astral sighed.

Yusaku dreamed again the next night. It wasn’t a nightmare. It wasn’t a dream of what he missed.

Earlier that day, Yuma had helped Yusaku look for a way home after school. It was difficult without having idea how Yusaku arrived in this world in the first place. The only idea they could think of was based on Astral being from another world as well. Apparently, as Yuma and Astral gathered Number cards, Astral began to regain memories as well. (Interesting, that Yusaku and Astral had both lost memories upon arriving in his world.) Astral suggested that the key might be within his lost memories. So, Yusaku ended up actually helping Yuma and Astral look for Numbers. They had no luck that day, though.

The dream Yusaku had wasn’t far off. He was trying to help Yuma deal with Numbers. Dreams could be nonsensical, however, and Yusaku’s dream often didn’t make sense. Sometimes, rather than Heartland City, he found himself in Den City, Link Vrains, and other places Yusaku couldn’t remember ever seeing before.

No matter where they were, Yuma kept dragging Yusaku along with him in his search. They seemed to be in a rush. But even though they never found anything before Yusaku woke up, Yusaku never felt too annoyed about the whole situation.

#hugsaku #hugsaku2021 #yugioh vrains #yugioh zexal #tater writes #this one starts out with yusaku waking up from a nightmare...#i've really enjoyed writing the banter between yuma and astral and i think this chapter really shows it off #as for yusaku being able to see astral... i've intentionally interpreted his abilities loosely for this fic #yusaku can sort of sense what's happening in vrains so i've decided to interpret that as #yusaku being able to sense things from other connected worlds #with vrains being connected to den city and astral world being connected to heartland #which is almost certainly not how it works but? i wanted yusaku to meet astral

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kykyonthemoon · 4 years

Text

Soul Linked

AU’s notes: This story was inspired by what happened in the Lv103 main storyline; therefore, it may contain slight spoilers. However, it doesn’t follow everything in the main story, since my MC has a different background from the one in game.

For the past dreams and promise between Chime and my MC mentioned in this story, I recommend reading Made You Up.

I was too late. When I arrived at Well of Bones, Chisei Gen had already fallen in front of his twin brother.

I rushed to the twins. Chime Gen— or Ruri Kazama paused. Under the mask, his eyes fixed on me.

I reached to Chisei on the floor. He was still breathing, yet could not move. While running towards the two, I heard Kazama shouting something, something about showing his EX skill to his brother. Then, he sang and Chisei fell. This must be it. A spell that put people to sleep; I knew it because it was similar to my own.

There was a moment when I wanted to rush to Kazama’s side. But I couldn’t. He wouldn’t recognize me anymore. I knew that. I was a thread to him, like anyone else in this world. He wanted to destroy this world.

I tried to wake Chisei up. My hand kept shaking his. If I had to use all my power to wake him up and stop Kazama, I would.

I heard the sound of fabric swept on the ground. My ears caught a melody, so gentle and heavenly, as if an angel was singing it. I could not understand a thing, but I let myself indulge in that voice, that melody. It brought me to a place where I felt safe, and at peace; where there was a golden field and a starry sky; and nothing in the world could hurt me anymore.

Yet, a voice in my head was screaming “Danger!” I turned around. Kazama was standing behind me.

He leaned down closer. His lips slightly parted but he had stopped singing. He reached a hand out to cover my eyes. Everything around me fell into darkness.

When I woke up again, I found myself still lying on the ground. But something was not right. Chisei Gen had gone, and Kazama was nowhere to be found. I tried to get up. Voices screaming in my head. It was heavy. I wished the world in front of me would just stop spinning.

Suddenly, a cold voice spoke,

“Welcome, to Hell!”

And everything went back to silence. I recognized that voice. But something else caught my attention. It was Luminous.

I ran to him, calling his name but his face was emotionless. He was in a pool of blood and he was not breathing! Next to him, it was... Caesar?

I shook Caesar too, but he was just like Luminous. I turned to the other side and caught NoNo’s body covered in blood. And there was Finger’s. There was also Johann’s... I ran to each of them and screamed their names. Nobody woke up.

But it was the moment I saw Cery’s body when I lost my mind. Her face was pale and to my horror, my worst nightmare, she was dead. Dead like everyone else that mattered to me. I screamed as if I was ripped off. My heart was torn into pieces when I reached to her, only to realise that my power was useless.

I could not heal anyone. Not Lu; not Caesar nor NoNo; not Finger; not Johann and now Cery... I held her cold body in my tremble arms. At that moment, I knew how my mother had felt when she lost her unborn child and vowed not to use her healing power ever again.

“What’s the point of healing when you have to watch the ones you love, die?”

I gazed up. Tears covered most of my sight, but I still recognized that face.

His sad eyes fixed on mine, then he walked away. I put Cery down to the ground, mumbling “I’m sorry” a thousand times in my cry. When I got up to find that person, he was waiting for me on the other side of the ruins.

I wiped away the tears. He looked... sad, as always. But he was just a boy in a plain kimono, with silver hair covering almost all of his red eyes. As I ran towards him, I realised the changed in my own self. I was a little girl in white dress.

I followed him to the hill, where the flowers were withering and the stars fell down from the sky. He was fast; I never caught up with his steps. But he stopped when we reached the top of the hill and turned to face me.

“You promised to find me.”

There was nothing in his tone. Nothing. Not anger or sorrow.

“And I have always been looking for you.”

“You’re too late.” The boy looked at me, giving me a sad smile before his body was ripped, from inside out. From where he was standing just a moment ago, it was Ruri Kazama.

He laughed. In horror.

“Whoever you’re looking for, has died a long time ago. Silly girl, aren’t you?”

I gathered all the strength just to face him again. Ruri Kazama, Chime Gen, the boy in my dreams... They had been messing with my head!

“He died.” Kazama spoke again. There was pain in his voice now. “He died that night when his brother pierced a blade through his chest. You cannot save him. You cannot save your friends. Silly girl. And now, you cannot save yourself.”

In a blink of an eye, he closed the distance between us and his hand squeezed my neck. I gasped for air but all I took in was blood blending with the soft flower scent of his; once was so familiar to me. He was not the boy I met in dreams many years ago, when my power began to awake. He was not the lost man who came to ask for help to defeat his own devil. And he was certainly not the one who held my hand so gently, just a couple of nights ago when he said he was close to remembering our past dreams.

Our dreams connected in a way neither of us could explain. Through meeting him in the past, my power was somehow awakened. Although he could not remember me when we met again in Tokyo, I knew he was the one in my dreams.

And now, he wanted to kill me.

He was always the nightmares. All this time. Was I the only one holding onto the hope that the little boy I had met a long time ago was still there?

I felt powerless. I could not save Cery or anyone. I could not save him. Like he said, what’s the point of my healing power?

I should have listened to my parents, to just stay home and be a normal girl. I had always been useless. I could not heal, nor get myself out of this nightmare. All along, I was just lying to myself. I lied that Cassell would help me be a great healer. I lied that I would use my power to help my friends and family. I lied that I would be able to meet the boy in my dreams again and pull him out of his endless nightmares.

Even after seeing him in Tokyo, all I wanted was to help him remember me, remember the person he was before.

Who was I to think that I had such power? Useless, that was me.

Maybe I should just give in. And let him win. The grip on my neck was about to take away my last breath. That moment, I saw it. A trail of golden, though very slender, was glowing as it wrapped around his wrist. It was my Golden Thread. Or half of it.

For every beautiful dreams I had had, or encountered, I weaved them into the Thread. It is the source of my powers and I wear it on my wrist.

One night, when Kazama was screaming in his sleep at Takamagahara, I cut it into half and tied one around his wrist. I said it was a protection charm; something that would help him get through the nightmares.

He did not know, that I gave him half of my soul that night.

The half on his wrist started to glow. So did the other half on mine. They connected and formed a bright ray of light, almost like a soul link that soul dancers like me use to protect our allies. But this one, it was quite special. It was brighter than anything I had seen.

Kazama was shocked to see it too. He loosened his grip and I took the chance to fill my lungs with air again. He took a few steps further away from me. His attempts to get rid of the Thread only caused the link to be stronger. His golden eyes locked mine in a second. He was scared and resentful, of how he slowly lost control over this nightmare to me.

“This... is not the end...” He spoke in a cold voice. My chin was lifted by his other hand and clutched, aggressively. “You still cannot wake up. There is a show just for you, silly girl. I will break you and I will dance to your cry. I will make you watch your friends fall into endless nightmares. You once said this world was beautiful, didn’t you? I’ll burn it down to ashes, along with everything you love. Including your little Chime Gen.”

There was bitterness in his laugh before he vanished into darkness, leaving traces of fluttering wings and a soft scent of flowers.

I dropped down on my knees. The tears were dry but the pain still lingered. If I could not stop him, this nightmare would become my reality. I only needed to remind myself that this was all a dream, and I had such power to weave it the way I wanted. Kazama was much more powerful than me. But as long as our souls were linked, I believed I still had a chance to stop him.

I picked myself up. The world in front of me began to spin again. The next time I opened my eyes, I was standing on the shore and Chisei Gen was there.

(to be continued — maybe?)

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Masterlist

#omg i finally wrote this #lv103 main story but from kyky’s pov #dragon raja #chime gen #ruri kazama #kyky #moonlight and night sky #kyky x chime #fanfiction #dragon raja fanfic

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