#here's that Halloween fic I keep meaning to do every year and every year I forget ajdfkshfklsg | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

korereapers · 7 months

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I collaborated with the amazing @laxi0v0 for a cute little event we made in the scriddler server. This is Laxi's art about the fic I wrote, and HONESTLY HONESTLY i couldn't have asked for a better and more supportive partner. Her art is way better than I would ever dream on writing and honestly, Laxi, I'm so glad it was you bc we vibe a lot about our tastes w this ship.

The fic will be on ao3 later, but here, for you guys, before anyone else:

Jonathan takes a sip out his mug, nicely decorated with a pumpkin, the recipe of the pumpkin spice coffee perfected by him for decades. It’s warm, it tastes like fall, and it’s the start of what Jonathan considers to be the best time of the year.

It started like a small tradition for him, when he finally left home and started studying to become the psychologist he wanted to be. Halloween was to be celebrated, especially for freaks like him, abhorrent creatures that made great-granny’s skin crawl. He was proud of that, in a way. It was his moment, it still is, after all of these years, because he is still a freak, he belongs to this weather and these colors more than he belongs anywhere else. He belongs between ocher leaves and the smell of fog, the rain starting to fall over Gotham, only to leave when it’s summer again. The start of his kingdom, of the time he rules over.

Or it would be, if Edward wasn’t so adamant about going to freaking Starbucks.

He doesn’t get it, not really. A malnourished child from Georgia, surrounded by overworked kids that serve them with the most forced smile when Edward asks, yet again, for the infamous Pumpkin Spice Latte. With ice. Oatmeal milk. Whipped cream.

Jonathan wants to die.

“How is this even supposed to be spooky?”

Edward rolls his eyes, green contact lenses barely moving, as if they were starting to get glued to his irises. Which should be a bad sign, but Jonathan is, yet again, not his boyfriend’s keeper.

“Not everything has to be spooky when this time arrives, Jonathan.”

He kind of dislikes it, when he calls him by his full name. He calls him Jon when they are alone, when they are intimate, when their bodies or their hearts are entwined. He doesn’t like when he calls him Jonathan, because that means that Edward thinks he is being too bitter, complaining too much, a complete prick.

It’s not that he dislikes the stupid PSL, either, but it feels like desecrating one of his oldest traditions, and he feels as if he were betraying himself.

“Don’t you like my recipe, then? Do you dislike it so much we have to come here every single week?”

The cashier smiles at them awkwardly as Edward pays for their order, tipping the young lady generously.

“Do you have to take everything personally? I started getting here when I finally had my own money to spend. Is it that hard to just enjoy it, when I want to share it with you?”

Oh. A tradition. Jonathan distractedly drinks from his thematic glass, but says nothing.

They are really different, Edward and himself. To Edward, spending time and money like this… is almost a love language. It’s a lifestyle that he works hard to keep, having dinner in expensive places, getting coffee every time he can. Sharing it with him, because Jonathan is important to him.

Jonathan may be unable to feel fear, and his brain may be as damaged as Edward’s heart, but guilt still crawls its way into his psyche. It still makes him feel uneasy, because he cares, because he understands the feeling, because he wants to share his recipe with Edward because of the exact same reason.

He touches Edward’s hand when they sit, an apology he doesn’t utter but that can be felt in his irradiated orange eyes.

“I like it when you share time and nourishment with me.”

Edward’s expression softens, a glint of blue under the bright green contact lenses.

“Wow, when did you get emotionally aware?” his mouth says instead, and for a moment, Jonathan understands the Bat and his compulsion to punch him in the mouth.

“I’m a psychologist, Edward.”

“... right,” he mutters, his voice cheeky, still clearly a little mad, his thoughts loud. Jonathan loves that about him, his expression when he is deep in thought, when he is trying to understand something. A puzzle, a new riddle in their lives. “That recipe of yours is really important to you, too, if I’m guessing correctly.”

Jonathan nods, his eyes still on Edward’s, who seems to be feeling a little bit too shy to look at him, knowing that they are having an emotionally vulnerable moment.

“It is. I made it myself and… I want to share it with you.”

Edward does smile a little at that, his voice softer when he speaks.

“Let me try it later. I want to give it the thought and recognition it deserves.”

Jonathan’s thumb caresses Edward’s hand, his smile contagious. Like a well concocted virus.

“I would love to.”

—-------------------------------------------

Edward is pretty sure that he is (very unluckily, by the way) dating the man with the poorest taste in the world. Jonathan seems to think that he is hilarious, dressed in his usual costume, even the needles oozing toxin as he sits quietly on the couch.

There is a thing about him that Edward has always loved: how he becomes a different person when the mask is on.

They used to talk about it, back in the day, when they used to share a room in the Asylum. Jonathan felt naked without his mask, his expression dull and almost tense, devoid of what made him himself. Edward, at least, has managed to make those expressions change, the real Jon emerging from behind whatever aloof façade he tries to put on to protect himself, to pretend he is a regular human being and not the freak that makes his heart melt.

He must surely be smiling behind the mask, then. Edward can almost feel him vibrating in excitement, like a small child, and in a way, he kind of is. A reclaimed childhood, the enjoyment of a joy he wasn’t allowed to feel. He can understand that.

Still, the poorest fucking choice of a Halloween costume.

“Really, Jon? The most original idea, I have to say.”

Jonathan looks at him, and he can feel his piercing eyes even behind the mask, the expression of a predator, so dangerous it makes his face flush a little. Birds of a feather, both of them. The Scarecrow sighs, deeply, the sound distorted behind the mask. It’s creepy, he has to admit, which is probably… kind of the point.

“Like you’re one to talk, Herlock Sholmes.”

Edward gasps, indignant. His Poirot costume is nothing to be laughed at.

“Excuse me?!”

He can almost feel the smile behind the mask, because Edward knows him, he knows Jonathan is an avid reader, he knows the difference between Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle, for fuck's sake. He is doing this on purpose, to rile him up. He always is.

Edward's mind goes somewhere else, somewhere private. Somewhere where he is indeed riled up, and Jonathan touches his cheek, looking up at his face from behind the mask, Edward sitting on his lap, while long, dangerous hands go up his thigh, eyes hungry-

The doorbell rings. Edward goes back to reality, Jonathan's eyes on him as he moves towards the entrance, the tips of his ears surely blushing.

When he opens the door, he has to look down, because damn, kids sure look tinier these days. He cannot remember to be this short, this innocent, this…

Happy.

He feels Jonathan's chin on his shoulder, almost jumping in place because the man is silent like a ghost, no matter how eager he is to take part in the holiday.

One of the kids is wearing a Batman costume, and Edward tries his hardest not to roll his eyes, with better or worse success. Another kid is dressed as Harley Quinn, what makes him wonder if these parents are in need of any kind of psychological help. The youngest, a child dressed as Wonder Woman, looks at them with badly hidden mischief, and Edward feels tempted to just close the door.

"Trick or treat!" They ask in unison, and before Edward can answer, Jonathan drops a bag in front of them, full of who knows what, but the kids don't ask.

Such blissful ignorance.

"Thank you Mister Holmes! Mister Scarecrow!" The girl dressed up as Batman says, and the one dressed as Wonder Woman purses her lips in disgust.

"Poirot's moustache isn't like that. You're a fake."

The kid dressed as Harley Quinn laughs in response, taking the bag of candy and running away with Wonder Woman. The one dressed as Batman follows who Edward believes to be her sisters, and he blissfully thanks that they don't have any children.

"Please tell me the bag is full of drugs."

Jonathan chuckles a little, his arms around Edward's waist.

"Hershey's," is everything he says, his sudden lack of malice and evil intent a headache for Edward.

"Oh, Jon. Are you going soft on me?"

Jonathan's smile can be felt in the air, a predator, a killer awaiting their next victim.

"Me? Oh, darlin'..." he whispers against Edward's ear, his distorted voice making him shudder in anticipation. "Never."

#scriddler #my stuff #and laxi's #dc #riddler #scarecrow #edward nygma #edward nigma #edward nashton #jonathan crane #i love you laxi.... really

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apomaro-mellow · 3 months

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Hot for Teacher(s) 2

Part 1 / AO3 Link

@babydollbaron I need you to know your tags basically changed the trajectory of this fic

In the mornings, Steve dropped Shawn off at the before care offered by the school and then went to work. Afterwards, Shawn took the school bus home and went over to a neighbor's house, Miss Robin, until his dad got home from work.

Because of this, Steve knew he would hardly have a reason to see Eddie outside school functions and conferences. Which was fine. It was totally fine. He absolutely was not spending nights thinking about those curls under his fingers. Whenever Shawn had a story from school to tell, he hung on every word. And it was only because these were the formative years of Shawn's life.

"Oh yeah, Mr. Munson asked about our practice and I got to tell him all about it", Shawn said.

Steve paused in his current task, which was the dishes while Shawn did his homework at the kitchen table. He knew exactly what his son was talking about.

"Oh? How'd that come up?"

"I told him about it before but I didn't get to tell him about it before Yasmin started crying. He asked me and I told him."

Steve currently taught middle school, but he'd had a little experience with the younger ones. When it got close to Shawn starting school, he did his best to make sure he was prepared. And to make things a little easier on whoever was teaching him. Steve tried to be subtle with his next words.

"Tell me more about Mr. Munson."

And then the floodgates opened. Mostly because it seemed Mr. Munson was very open about his personal life. Apparently, anytime the students had a question, he answered it. Just in this five minutes between drying the dishes and plating up dinner, Steve learned that Mr. Munson played guitar, loved the color red, played a game about dragons, and was single.

"Wait, how do you know he's not married?", Steve asked.

"Because Briana asked him and he said he's not married", Shawn answered easily.

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

Steve tried not to think too hard about it. Mr. Munson being single didn't change anything. Not a single thing. But a really hot alpha who was unattached and also happened to be really good with kids who his kid loved was kind of the ultimate wet dream.

For Halloween, the students were allowed to come in costume and before the day was over, Steve's email was blessed with a collection of pictures of the class, including one where several superheroes, princesses, and even a kid dressed as Chucky defeated the mighty Munson dragon.

It was so cute that Steve had half a mind to send a reply that said so but second guessed it. He didn't need to tell Shawn's teacher it was a cute picture that was the whole reason he sent it. He had to keep all correspondence professional. But it was a picture of Shawn so he was well within his rights to save all of them to his phone.

"You ha~ve a cru~ush~", Robin sang on the phone. She was pulling some dino nuggets from the oven in preparation for Shawn coming over.

"Shut up, I don't!", Steve hissed on the other end. School had just ended but there would be a staff meeting in about five minutes. "I didn't tell you so you could make fun of me-"

"Come on, you knew it was coming-"

"I told you because I just had to tell someone." Steve sighed and took of his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "It's not creepy if he's Shawn's former teacher, right?"

"Steve, I'm gonna be honest, I don't think it's creepy now." Robin picked up one of the nuggets and chomped on it. "It's kind of crazy how we have dino nuggets and animal crackers but not the other way around."

"Please save that for Shawn when he gets there. What do you mean? Wouldn't it be weird?"

"You're both two grown adults. I don't see the harm in asking him out", Robin said.

Steve slouched in his chair behind his desk. "That's not the only fact here. There's the fact that he's teaching my son. If any of the other parents find out, they'll think I'm sleeping my son's way to the top."

"....In first grade? That would be pathetic."

"Most suburban gossip is, but you already know this. It's not me I'm worried about really, it's Shawn. Kids talk too and what if they make fun of him?"

"Oh no! My awesome dad is dating my awesome teacher! Whatever will I do?!", Robin wailed.

"He thinks we're awesome separately. There's no telling what he'll think of us together. And I...I don't want to give him false hope."

"Steve...when was the last time you went on a date?"

Steve let out a puff of air. "Does that one guy who ogled me a few years ago count?"

"Gross! Steve! No! Do you mean the guy who was just staring at you breast feeding?"

"Serves me right for doing it in public. And in shorts."

"Hey, no, there will be no slut-shaming in this household." Robin paused when she heard the door open and the bounding of feet. "Your gremlin is here."

"I think you mean my precious miracle from above. And you will treat him as such. My only gremlins are my sixth graders."

"Whatever. Just get your shipwreck together and decide what you want to do."

Turns out, Steve didn't have to wait long for an opportunity. Shawn had come home that day with a flyer for a Thanksgiving performance and was asking for parent volunteers.

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

Eddie wasn't like, actively hoping that he would see Shawn's dad again. But when the fliers went home asking for volunteers, as well as an email, there was something going up. But it wasn't hope. It definitely wasn't hope. It couldn't possibly be hope. That way nothing could be dashed when nothing came of it.

So when he came into the auditorium after school, he was simply pleasantly surprised to see Mr. Harrington there. Not elated. Not ecstatic. Just appropriately pleased.

He greeted all the parents of his students, of which he only saw two others before coming to Mr. Harrington.

"Nice to see you again", he said with a handshake.

"And you as well", Mr. Harrington replied.

Eddie was sure he was imagining the electricity passing through their touch.

"Well, welcome to elementary theatre. Where we're gonna nurture any and all blossoming passions in the arts."

"Can't wait to see it. Um, so what exactly will they be doing?", Steve asked.

"The first grade class as the honor of doing a little song on what they're thankful for. Mrs. Clifford usually accompanies them by piano, but this year I'm hoping to get some more instrumentation for it."

"Oh, Shawn told me you play guitar."

Eddie's first instinct was to twirl his hair to hide his smile but it was still up in a bun, so he tried to fix his face to not be too obvious but he was sure it came out as a weird grimace.

"Yeah, yeah I do. Been playing for years. What about you, any instrumental skills?"

"None", Mr. Harrington shook his head. "My parents tried piano lessons, but I never took them for long. Just long enough to learn 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'."

"Everybody's got their talents. And no better place to showcase them", Eddie thrust his arms out around them.

"Well for now, I'm volunteering my time being a watchful eye and working on backgrounds and costumes. Plus snacks."

"Wait, did you bring the chips and sliders?", Eddie jutted a thumb toward the table near the stage.

Mr. Harrington shrugged. "It's just turkey and ham. And I know how ravenous kids can get."

"Are you guys talking about me?", Shawn asked, coming up to them.

Eddie watched the odd look on Mr. Harrington's face and was sure his must've looked similar. This was probably the longest he'd been talking to a parent without talking about their kid.

"I was just about to bow to your dad's culinary prowess", Eddie said. "Apparently, he made the snacks for this evening."

"I asked him to make his stuffing because, you know, Thanksgiving, but he said it was too early", Shawn said.

"I'm sure his stuffing is delicious", Eddie smiled down at him.

"You should come to our house and try it", Shawn beamed, leaning his head against his dad's hip.

Eddie looked back up at Mr. Harrington. "I'd love it if I could do that."

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

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

Steve was thankfully saved from replying to that by rehearsal starting and so Mr. Munson's attention was drawn away but seriously. What the fuck was that? Was that man inviting himself over to his house? Was it simple small talk? What was it all supposed to mean?

He was put on costume duty while the children practiced which kept his hands busy but not his brain, so he spent the next hour over thinking about that one line, which led to him overanalyzing the entire conversation. When practice ended, the teachers stood by the front entrance to wait for any parents that weren't already there or hadn't shown up toward the end to get their kids.

Mr. Munson waved off the last of his students just as Shawn finished in the bathroom and Steve helped him get his coat on. He looked hesitant before speaking up.

"Looks like you're my last one. I can walk you to your car if you want. It's pretty dark out."

Pretty dark was an understatement. It was near pitch black and the parking lot had bare minimum lighting. Steve definitely would've felt better about it if he had someone on the other side of Shawn.

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

And without being told so, Mr. Munson put Shawn between them as they left the school and walked out into the parking lot. He gave a whistle once they got to Steve's BMW.

"Nice car."

"Thanks. She's been pretty faithful to me all these years." Steve unlocked the car and let Shawn into the backseat first. When he closed the door, he smiled at the alpha before him. "Thanks for walking us out.

"Consider it a routine then. At least until this place can afford to fully light up the lot."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." There must have been the tiniest bit of a lull in the conversation because suddenly Shawn piped up from inside the car.

"Dad, can we get tacos for dinner?"

Steve snapped out of whatever staring contest he was having with Mr. Munson and looked down affectionately at his son. "What? My casserole not good enough all of a sudden?" He opened the driver side door and got in, turning the ignition on.

With them safely in the car, Eddie went over to his van and got in, waiting until he saw Mr. Harrington pull out before going his own way.

Later that night, after putting Shawn to bed, Steve was left alone with his thoughts again as he graded papers using an answer key at the kitchen table. It was easy to let his mind drift into just how...how wonderful Mr. Munson seemed.

He bit his lip and squeezed his legs together. Mr. Munson was handsome, and charismatic, and so safe, so much the perfect alpha that he'd been led to believe didn't exist. He could protect him and his pup... and Steve could give him more pups...

Steve's hand drifted down between his legs and he let it stroke a few times before freezing and closing his grade book. Time for something more mentally stimulating.

"Guess I'm lesson planning tonight."

Part 3

Tag Team

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @hippieg1rl420

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o

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markhoffmans-certified-slut · 1 year

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PDA | Preference

Pairing: Slasher Men x f!reader

Notes: This is a semi short fic for the slashers, but I wanted to start off my blog somewhere! I’ll be back as soon as I can with some more. I’m going to be doing quite a few different chapters, and I’m always open to new ideas!

Characters in this chapter include: Art, Billy, Stu, Brahms, Corey, Mark, Michael, and Pinhead.

For my growing list of preferences and scenarios, you can follow along here!

Art The Clown

The two of you aren’t out in public together very often. With you having a busy work schedule, and Art being… well…

Instead, most of your time is spent in the safety and privacy of your apartment. Windows closed, shades drawn, lamps on and a movie playing while the two of you sit on the sofa together and you end up smooshed against his side when he pulls you in for a tight hug and presses a kiss to your forehead. On Halloween, one of the very few times you’re ever out with Art, he doesn’t do much. Truthfully, he’s too busy keeping an eye out for victims— as well as police. He will hold your hand, exaggeratingly swinging it between the two of you for fun, and he may dip to press a kiss to your lips as well— but it would be fast before he’s back on the lookout.

Billy Loomis

When the man says that he doesn’t care much about displaying his affection for you publicly, he means it. There isn’t a time, it seems, that his arm isn’t snug around you. That his hand isn’t in your back pocket when you’re walking in public. When you’re not holding his hand and snuggling into his side. It doesn’t matter where you are, he’d going to hold you as he pleases. Now, he has limits when it comes to these things, especially with his kisses. Billy would only ever get too intense with you if somebody wouldn’t stop staring at you when it’s very clear you’re with him. His kisses are usually quick and soft. Only every now and then will he press a slower kiss to your lips when you’re out in public.

Stu Macher

If there’s one thing that Stu cares nothing about, it’s the concept of PDA. His arm is always around you and it’s often in your back pocket so that he can give your ass subtle (not subtle) squeezes and see if he can make you squeal. He often kisses you whenever he feels like it, whether it be a quick peck to the forehead or if it’s a smooch on the lips. As much as he loves that you and Billy are good friends, Stu has always worried that you might change your mind about him and decide that you’re into his best friend, so when the three of you are together he stays rather attached at your hip.

Brahms Heelshire

Rarely, and I mean very rarely, are you ever out in public. As far as Brahms is concerned, outside on the property with the chance of the grocery boy spotting you two together would be considered “Public.” With that being said, he doesn’t really care at all if the grocery man saw the two of you together; in fact, the more that man that likes to linger his eyes on you saw you kissing Brahms back in such a sweet way, the better. Whenever the two of you are outside of the house, his hand is locked in yours. It could be hot and you could be sweaty, but your fingers would still be laced together. And he’ll kiss you when he pleases. If that just so happens to be when the gate opens and a car comes down the driveway, so be it.

Corey Cunningham

At the beginning of your relationship, he had absolutely no clue how to insinuate PDA. He didn’t even hardly know how to insinuate things when the two of you were alone. At first, it was nearly 100% up to you. To grab his hand and lace your fingers. To press a kiss to his cheek or his lips. To sit as snug as you could against his side and rest your head on his shoulder. Nowadays, after everything that happened and everything you’ve been through, he finds it much easier to grab you by the waist, pull you close to him and kiss you when someone is staring. After all, most people do— you were stunning and he knew even after all these years that he was the luckiest he could ever be to have you with him.

Mark Hoffman

He’s a jealous man. A possessive man. A protective man. There’s not a single thing or person in this world that he’s going to allow to hurt you. At this point in his life, you’re really all that he has. Therefore, he makes it clear to everybody that you’re not up for grabs. That you spend every night with him and all of his days off. He always holds your hand when you’re out. He always has his arm around your waist in a safe, protective manner. He has a strong stare, one not many dare to go against. Anybody eyeing you up quickly turns away. This goes along with his public kisses; he isn’t afraid to claim you as his own. Kissing your forehead sometimes, pressing a quick smooch to your hand, pulling you in by the waist and kissing your lips. Whether it be in a jealous manner or simply because he wants to, Mark doesn’t care too much about people finding his kissing you to be a burden.

Michael Myers

No. The two of you do not exist in the outside world together. Simply, no.

Pinhead

You’re hardly ever out with Pinhead. And if you are, it’s when the beings are causing mass destruction and bringing Hell to earth. In that case, he keeps you by his side, not wanting you to get caught in the crosshairs of what is to continue coming for the people in the town. However, he worries about you. The Cenobites are everlasting. But you— you’re a mere mortal with little means to protect yourself. Therefor, you spend a good majority of your time with Pinhead. Kept safe from harms way by the Cenobites and close to your very own being. However, Pinhead is unused to human affection; you need to teach him what it’s like to feel a person again. Holding hands in public is something that is common. Kissing— well, it’s hard enough as it is in private…

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autisticlancemcclain · 5 months

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fic rec friday 54

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

all i want for christmas by tusslee

“Listen,” Lance squeezes Keith’s fingers in his hands, “I’m as bad at this as you probably are and this is going to be really cheesy, but that’s the way I was raised and I know I act like an idiot around pretty girls, but I’m an even bigger idiot around you. Go ahead and try to guess why that is. No, actually don't do that."

this one is gonna be an xmas special!! even though im writing this before halloween lol. anyways. this was so cute!! lance being all stressed about what he should get keith bc he's all in love w him any everything. so real.

2. You're Here (Where You Should Be) by @blue-wanderer

"And if you’re worried about the cameras just take care of them.” “Take care—! Take care of them? With what, Keith?” “I don’t know?” Keith asks, busily testing his foothold in the gate and generally ignoring the rising storm cloud of ire behind him. “With a gun?” “A gun? This isn’t some sort of black ops storming an enemy base thing! This is a Christmas tree thing!” “I don’t see a difference? You’re the sharpshooter. Shoot out the cameras.” “Let me just pull a gun out of my ass, Keith!” “OK, problem solved,” Keith agrees, taking another step up the gate. “Nothing is solved you dumb country space redneck!”

Or Keith and Lance may be disasters at decorating, but Christmas still manages to work its magic on them.

i bookmarked this like a year ago and let me tell you all i needed to hear was dumb country space redneck and i was hooked 😭😭 and it lived up to the name fr. hate the canon ending? want lance to not be a farmer while still acknowledging his struggles with homesickness? want some whipped keith and meddlesome kosmo? want some cheesy xmas feels? click ahead!

3. make my wish come true by angelbolt

“A world where one has to fight for custody of one’s boyfriend is a godless one,” Lance muttered, slumping so he was leaning against Hunk. Shiro exchanged some final words with Kolivan before the screen blipped out. Ah yes, the ideal Christmas Eve: long boring talks and war meetings. Wonderful. ❆❅❆ keith comes home for christmas.

fun game idea: take a shot every time you see a klance xmas fic with a mariah carey lyric. lol. ANYWAYS yall know me and established relationship + early season dynamics!! i am obsessed!! and this fic delivers!! grumpy lance pov who just wants the rest of the world to fuck off for a couple days so he can have his bf around. he's such a voice of the people

4. i'll be home for christmas by @thespacenico

A severe bout of winter weather threatens to stop Shiro from making it home for his first Christmas with Keith. Shiro is ready to do whatever it takes to keep his promise.

okay this one is from darcy's i've got you brother, which i am obsessed with and have cried over several times, and which just recently updated! this fic is so cute and a adashi with young keith always fucking gets to me, man. they're just so. shiro being so desperately determined to keep his promise to young keith who has had so many promises broken that he doesnt even expect shiro to try. but is happy that he does. sobbing.

5. the greatest gift of all by dumpsterdiva

Keith’s mouth hung open for a few seconds before he stammered, “D-do you really mean that?” Lance looked a bit sheepish as he said, “I… It’s crazy, right? I mean, it’s way too soon. You know I was kidding.” Keith straightened up. “Well, I’m not. Marry me.” “What?!” “You heard me, you coward. Marry me.” “That’s the worst proposal ever!” “Worse than you threatening me with marriage so I would stop talking about how amazing you are?”

YOU GUYS KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT PROPOSAL FICS. i feel ksjbskdbqjdbqwlwd about them. okay. and throw in a christmas setting??? and banter?? and a MODERN AU?? i am doing my best, people. this fic had me shoving a pillow into my face and screaming.

that’s it for today!! happy holidays! merry christmas!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

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sirowsky-stories · 3 months

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The Old Prince

Part 13

Author's Note: It's been an intense week for me, my loves, (I quit my job of 9 years!) so this was severely delayed, but here you are!

Description: You're forced to make a really tough decision, and as the war rages, you finally realize what it's gonna take to win.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses. Angst. Severe injuries. Word Count: 6427 Author's Masterlist

You’re not quite sure how Simon’s managing to change the oceans so quickly, unless he’s concentrating all his efforts solely on the Atlantic, not trying to expand in all directions at once. Still, there is a lot of ocean to get through, and he’s advancing terrifyingly fast, turning thousands of square meters of the water into the same goop you saw in the Mexican Gulf, every few seconds.

This is what allows him to stay at the front of his army, riding a bizarre wave of dead things at the head of his legion, while Oberyn circles above, keeping just under the shadow of the cloud, as if itching to reach new land to destroy. Seeing him sends shards of glass through your heart. He’s not a spirit, which means your light won’t be able to save him, and you have to be prepared to kill him if you wanna win this war. There’s no other way this ends.

But no matter how badly changed he is, you still see your beloved prince when you look at him. Your heart won’t stop choosing to see the love he gave you. It just won’t. His gift will live on in you for as long as you survive this world, and in Day for the rest of all time, which is the only comfort you can find while you stand there in front of the now once more glowing lighthouse, waiting for the storm to hit.

He is lost. But not gone. You can still save one small part of him.

The cloud reaches over your heads just as the last rays of sunlight fade from the sky, no doubt a precisely calculated time-plan on Simon’s part, but the dragon pulls back then, remaining above the mass of the army as the gunk which replaces the sea makes landfall. You guess that he’s being held back so he won’t kill too many people before they can be converted and added to the ranks, but it makes no difference as the island itself rejects their arrival.

It’s more than a little satisfying to see the Darkling literally fall over when his wave of death is brought to an abrupt stop, as if hitting a wall, once it tries to spill over land. You can’t help but grin smugly at him when he glares at you while getting back up, which of course, only further angers him. But there’s no use. The light holds.

“That’s a neat little trick, Lux. But you won’t keep me out forever,” he growls, and the slight tone of incredulity in his voice tells you this is something he hadn’t anticipated.

Which must mean your spirit has never managed something like this before.

“I thought you were the new and improved dark one. The best one ever,” you taunt, feeling a tad superior to have finally found an angle he can’t immediately break through. “I thought you knew all my tricks and had already figured out how to counter them.”

“Like I said, it’s just a matter of time.”

You refrain from replying that you can reach around the entire world like this, since angering him further isn’t gonna do you any favors. Then Oberyn’s flame suddenly drops on you from above. As if spewed from one of those airplanes with water-tanks, used to combat wildfires, it cascades over the entire western coastline. The dragon is sick of waiting for his cue, it seems.

You can protect the island from the dark forces, which means he can’t land or swipe at people or animals on the ground, but his fire is just fire. Neither belonging to light nor darkness. The people aren’t frightened of it, so they just stand there as it hits them, melting their bodies in mere seconds.

If you don’t do something, the entire island will be destroyed. But the only thing you can do is try to kill the dragon. The thought fills you with pain and sorrow, and Simon immediately senses it.

“Poor little Boo. How awful it must be to know you have to kill your lover if you want to save these pitiful people.”

You can feel him prodding at your mind, trying to slip past the light so he can disrupt your power, but you’ve been down this road before and you’re still immune to him. Flooding your mind with all the happy memories, all the curious conversations in the beginning of your time at the castle, the immediate connection you’d felt with Oberyn and how it had eventually blossomed into love, you shove Simon out of your being with such force that it once again unbalances him.

And when the dragon lines up for his next run, you use your connection to all the people around you to increase the strength of your beam, before unleashing it from your chest. It hits him at the base of his throat before he veers off, but you maintain the beam, chasing after him until you’ve hit him again, leaving a glowing trail along his spine. He crashes somewhere to the northwest, and the sea of malice swallows him whole.

It’ll heal him, you know it will. He isn’t nearly damaged enough to be out of the game, but it gives you a while to think. And what you think is that you can’t fight a war by being only defensive. Your enemy can and will wait practically forever for your barriers to fall. His army isn’t dependent on food and water to survive, whereas yours is.

The only offensive measure in your arsenal is your light-beam but it won’t be enough to decimate Simon’s forces. You need to find a way to put a weapon in the hands of every living thing you’re connected to. But how? While you’re working that problem, the Darkling continues to let his evil spread through the ocean, killing millions of water-dwelling creatures in the process, and when you see the black goo travel past the island, you suddenly wonder why your light hasn’t seemed to reach the underwater population at all.

Reaching out towards Europe, you try to feel if your powers seem to have reached into the landlocked rivers and lakes, but the only answer you find is no. Which means, given time, all water on the planet will eventually be infected and undrinkable, killing everything no matter how much light you try and infuse things with. If you can’t find a way to protect the water, you’ll lose.

You can’t see Caelum anywhere, so you have to assume she’s hiding and waiting for her moment to strike. But you’re also highly aware the other spirits are absent as well, meaning Simon knows you can restore them and is keeping them out of your reach. Fuck! You need more time. There are too many unanswered questions.

Then something unexpected happens. A person on the beach below you loses his light, and the darkness instantly swallows him through the gap in your armor, giving it a foothold on the island. It can’t spread any further unless more people give in to it, but it still worries you. The dark one must be whispering to them, reaching into their minds just like he tried to do with you and just like you expected him to. But you didn’t expect him to succeed in persuading anyone so quickly. It’s only been minutes…

One problem at a time, that’s as much as you can work on, and right now, weapons take priority. You need a way to distribute light through something other than yourself. Another person falls, further inland, leaving a second beast in her place. It writhes and screeches, clawing at the invisible barriers which contain it, already hungry. Desperate to consume.

Consume… wait, that’s it! Using your hand, you shoot a highly concentrated beam at the newly formed creature down on the beach, turning him into glowing dust. Your light has now consumed and transformed him, just like the darkness does to the living. Except the dust he becomes also becomes a part of you, because it’s light.

Out of seemingly nowhere, Caelum suddenly swoops down over you, heading straight for the glowing dust and then beating her wings against it, sending it flying off over the blackened sea. Taking the opportunity given, you attempt to amplify the light of those little specks as they disperse, and it works.

Like fireworks, each and every particulate becomes a sizzling little bomb, which when it hits a creature of the dark, multiplies and creates a chain reaction which kills thousands in mere seconds. Simon manages to stop its rampant progression by throwing masses of thick vines in its path, essentially drowning the fireworks. But this time, you’re the one who can sense his fear growing, because this is an effective weapon, and one he won’t be able to wait out or prevent.

There’s no reason to hold back, so as soon as the first volley is extinguished, you launch a second one, and Caelum is right there, helping you disperse it with her microbursts of powerful winds. This time, you use both hands separately and aim your beam along as much of the front lines of the dark army as you can endure, before your hands are once again charred. But it pays off. The chain reaction which follows is massive, destroying at least a tenth of Simon’s army before he can halt it.

Then, just as the battlefield grows louder with the shrieks of anger from the decimated forces, there’s a rumble from below the semi-solid surface of the black ooze, and then Oberyn comes thrashing out of it. It holds him back, weighing him down with its oily muck, leaving him struggling to get his wings up, having to beat them hard repeatedly before enough of the shit has been removed to allow him to take off.

He comes straight at you, fully aware that you’re the one who brought him down and obviously eager to retaliate. It takes less than a second of seeing his distorted and enraged face glare at you, before your mind reverts into thoughts of grief and despair, and just like earlier, the moment you do, the Darkling pounces and tries to invade your mind. You’re not threatened by it, but it does scatter your resolve, leaving you frozen.

It tortures you. Seeing this, knowing that it’s your Oberyn but you’ll never get to see him proudly glide across the skies again. Knowing you’re the one who has to end him. There isn’t enough light in the universe to keep those thoughts away. He closes in so fast, and yet it seems to happen infinitely slowly. Jaws wide and the churning heat within, trained solely on you, needing to destroy with such desperation.

You wonder if there’s more behind it. His very existence depends on your obliteration, that much is easy to conclude, but somehow, you feel as though this need is fed by more than just the fear of death. It was the fear of losing you which brought him here, so it stands to reason the same fear is still what ultimately controls him, even if his memories are gone. But none of this really matters. It’s just thoughts, coming to you now as your own desperation is brought to a head. A last attempt to put off the unthinkable… but inevitable.

Stop..

An image flashes before your eyes, obscuring the jaws which are about to reach you, and you hear your own voice whispering inside your head, just as it had sounded back then, while something occurs to you on instinct. You’d made it stop that day in Detroit. The creature attacking the policemen. But it hadn’t been sunlight you’d put in its way. Once again you scream the word, not as loud as you can, but with all the might you possess… and the dragon stops.

He’s brought to a halt so abruptly that he flinches backwards and then crashes down onto the beach below you as if an invisible rope had snared and pulled him down. You look up, checking if there are reinforcements on the way to try and aid the dragon, only to see Simon’s face contort into pure rage at the sight of his presumed perfect weapon against you flailing as he tries to get back up. But the monster makes no attempt to help his minion.

Turning back to Oberyn, your breath is suddenly stifled as pain floods your being with the knowledge of what you’re about to do. He’s helpless to defend himself while you hold him down, pinning him to the sands as you try to prepare. Except there is no preparing for this. No amount of conditioning is going to make this one damned bit easier. You need to touch him to finish it, so although it’s the last thing you want to do, you start to walk down towards the beach.

He thrashes against the invisible chains you have wrapped around him, screeching through his ruined throat for his master to save him, but the dark one isn’t going to spare his resources on a lost cause. Whether he knows what you’re doing or not, he knows he’s powerless to stop it.

“Shhh…” you soothe, making your way to the once so mighty king of the skies, and his writhing eases up a little. “It’s gonna be alright.”

By the time you’re standing in front of him, he’s completely stopped moving, laying his head down in the sand, staining the tiny crystals black with the oil that seeps from his ruined skin.

“It wasn’t the sun which stopped that creature in Detroit,” you explain, even though you know he doesn’t have the ability to understand you anymore.

You just need to. One last conversation. Your final chance to ever say anything to him again.

“It was conviction. In that moment, I truly believed myself strong enough to stand up to something so evil. And I believed it so completely, so fiercely, that my voice reached into its dead brain and sparked the idea that maybe there is something more powerful than darkness. That’s all it took to stop it in its tracks. Just an idea. The barest hint of a flaw in the fabric of reality woven by the evils of this world.”

Taking one final step, you lay your hands on the tip of his nose, ignoring the thick, oily goo you sink into slightly, and which starts to trickle down your lower arms in sluggish dribbles.

“Such a simple thing. And yet, I couldn’t convince you of it. Because around you, I didn’t think I had to be that person. With you, I thought I could just be… human,” you shrug unhappily, giving yourself just a few seconds to let the tears fall. “I should’ve known better.”

He watches you, giving no indication that anything you say is affecting him, and even though you knew it wouldn’t, it still hurts you to know he’ll never look at you with those big brown, adoring eyes again. Light flows through your hands and your chest, and you watch as he slowly dissolves before your eyes, until all that’s left is the glowing dust. And the love of your life is truly gone.

Pain overwhelms you, bringing you to your knees, but there’s no longer any fear within you. The worst thing that could ever have happened, has already happened.

What’s left is agony and loneliness, but this doesn’t concern you, because you now know those feelings won’t take away your love or your hope. That they don’t eliminate positivity, but each exist alongside one another instead. You now realize both are born from the same place. Equal parts of the same core, and each vital for the existence of the other. And this understanding makes you truly untouchable to the Darkling.

But you can’t force this kind of understanding on other people. It’s not something one can be taught, so there’s no way for you to render others equally untouchable. Oberyn’s final act was to make you invincible against the darkness, not so that you can singlehandedly stop it, but so that the forces of light will always have a leader. No matter how long this war rages.

“You may have temporarily weakened me, Boo,” Simon snarls then, “but so long as the spirits belong to me, you will lose. I have all of eternity to wait for you to recognize that.”

With those words, he and his army retreats, although the Atlantic remains ruined after their departure. He’s not defeated, not even close. He’ll regroup and head for another coast, another continent to try and infect, and he’ll keep doing that for however long he has to. Because he’s right. Without the spirits, you’ll never stand a chance.

As if knowing you’re thinking about her, Caelum comes to your side and lands in the sand beside you.

“We can’t let him drag this out,” you say through the tears and the snot which has accumulated in your nose, while you follow your enemy’s departure with your gaze. “I don’t know how, but we need to free your sisters and we need to do it soon.”

In your periphery, you see her nod decisively, probably also aware the longer this takes, the more people will eventually succumb to the darkness no matter how diligently you try to safeguard them. And perhaps even more importantly; the more of nature will be destroyed. As you stand there, a plan begins to take form inside your mind, and you wonder if she somehow speaks to you, because you don’t feel like all of this is coming from you.

“Has it ever been this bad before?” you ask her, turning to meet her eyes now.

She holds your gaze for a few moments, but if she replies, you can’t tell. You don’t know if she even remembers things from as far back as the last dark one, but you also feel like whether she does or not, she’s no longer the same thoughtless entity of raw emotion she’s meant to be. Her stoic stillness somehow feels like an answer, though, and not a good one. But however bad you might try to imagine things could get from this point; nothing could’ve prepared you for how truly awful they would become.

--=¤=--

You sigh heavily as you feel another person die. Not by the Darkling’s hand, though, this was natural causes. A young man somewhere on the northern Australian continent, you’re not sure exactly where. It stopped being important a while ago. The exact locations. They’re all just losses. Caelum senses it too, and you feel her sorrow, which annoys you. You’re not sure when you stopped being able to grieve the lost ones anymore, but it seems like a long time ago.

You still care, perhaps even too much. Because each and every one who dies feels like your failure, but after so long and so much death, it’s gotten harder and harder to let yourself feel it. To let your love for the world carry your burdens and lighten your heart. It’s so hard when you’re connected to everything, because people die, in all sorts of ways, every minute of every day. And even if it isn’t traumatic or horrible, even if they just die in their sleep, you feel all of them as they leave the light.

How long has it been? How many deaths have you felt at this point? The fight takes you all over the world, so time-zones have stopped having any meaning to you. You battle the dark for as long as you can, and then you find a place to rest, sleeping for what you assume are a few hours, and then you get back to work. That’s the routine. Day after day.

The world fights with you, holding off the black hurricane and the senseless death it protects, even when you sleep. Determined not to fail, feeding off the light you still pour into it with as much hope as you can muster. But for all their courage and strength, Simon’s power has not been weakened. You’ve made almost no progress in recovering anything he’s already corrupted, leaving the American continents his adult playground.

He’s frustrated, though. You can tell. His need to consume makes him crave fresh bodies. Living things to torture the light out of so he can feed his stale existence and give it purpose. His army is restless, spending its time tearing at itself in search of relief from such a pointless existence, needing to tear, rip, destroy something. At times it gets bad enough that they even start dismembering themselves, further mutating their bodies as the removed limbs grow back even more distorted.

Time, it seems, is no more their friend than it is yours.

Caelum has changed as well. She’s no longer limited to non-verbal communication, having learned not just how to speak telepathically with you, but how to remember things from one moment to the next. Ordinarily, she shouldn’t be capable of thought or reasoning of any kind, but circumstances have forced her to evolve.

“Please, stop,” you ask her without saying a word out loud, when she continues to grieve for the dead man, and her sharp eyes refocus on you.

“You are the one who recognizes the strength of caring,” she chides, not for the first time.

“I’m aware. But lingering on the dead won’t help, will it?”

She doesn’t respond to that, but something about her gaze makes you feel guilty.

“I just mean we need to keep looking ahead, find solutions. We’re not a single step closer to ending this war and it’s been… how long now?” you ask, genuinely trying to work it out but coming up short.

“Three and a half years,” she replies, and for a moment you just stare blankly at her.

Your own assessment was off by about an entire year.

“Fuck…” you sigh, bowing your head in recognition of your absolute failure.

It’s the fifth time since that day you’re back on Faial Island, standing in front of the lighthouse and looking out over the Atlantic. You had eventually figured out how to heal the ocean, and all water, once Simon had left, so today it glistens blue against the horizon to the west. It turned out that all you had to do was change the wavelength of your light for it to travel through water. But that’s also about as much as you’ve accomplished.

The plan you’d once had, to try and sneak back into the States and covertly reach some of the spirits by using your conviction to gain control over a darkened creature and use it as cover, had failed on multiple occasions, leaving you scratching your head for some other idea. Brute force wasn’t gonna work, because as much as the world would stand behind you, they couldn’t operate offensively and would be of little help to you. And powerful though you are, even if you could muscle your way past an entire army, you still can’t kill Simon.

But somewhere deep inside you, there’s a glimmer. A truth, or knowledge, you’re not sure which. What you do know is that this glimmer is the answer, if you can just tap into it and learn what it’s trying to tell you. Because there is a way to win, you’ve never doubted that, and you never will. You just need to find it.

“Hey,” a voice quietly greets from behind you, and you recognize it as Andreia.

She comes to stand next to you, and you glance at her with a polite nod and small smile. She always comes to see you whenever she sees you arrive by the lighthouse where she still works. That’s another thing which seems very odd to you. How the world still has to keep going as usual, even with the truest evil trying to devour it. How the stock market has been affected by Americas destruction, how the politics of the world have shifted.

It feels like all that should’ve just stopped. Been put on indefinite hold while you all band together and fight. But that’s not how it works. Oddly enough, the planet has probably never seen a more peaceful time in all its existence, with the entire population so devoted to hope. There are no ongoing conflicts, virtually no crime even on the smallest scale of offences, and people are generally behaving more helpfully and tolerantly.

What a strange world this is, where the end of this war will see it return to those darker traits in very little time.

“Any progress?” she asks, following your gaze across the sea.

“No, not yet. I’m… stuck. In my head, you know?” you ponder, grateful to have someone other than the owl to talk to, just because humans relate to you better and understand things which no spirit can. “I keep trying to look at the problem from new angles, looking for something I could’ve missed, but as much as I know in my fucking bones there is an answer, I just can’t find it.”

“Maybe you need to write it down.”

At first, you dismiss her suggestion, since you can’t see what difference it would make, but when she continues to explain her reasoning, you start to come around.

“It activates a different part of your brain, which sometimes helps with problem solving. Singing does too, but I don’t think there is a song for this situation.”

“I don’t know. People have been making music for ages, covering every topic under the sun. I’m sure if we looked hard enough, we could find something eerily appropriate,” you shrug, laughing lightly at the subject.

Ever since you lost Oberyn, laughter hasn’t come as easily for you as before. It’s harder to let yourself be happy when he can’t be there to share it with you. But it’s also so important that you do hold on to the good moments and allow their brightness to infect you.

“How about… Ironic by Alanis Morissette”, she offers, making you snicker.

“Definitely. Or Everybody by Backstreet Boys.”

She hums approvingly, and a few more songs are exchanged between you, getting more and more ludicrous.

“Mr. Brightside by The Killers. I mean, come on, both the song and the group are appropriate,” you suggest, and by now you’re both struggling against incessant giggling.

“Lose Yourself…” Andreia replies, but then forgets the artist for a second, “…by uh…Eminem!”

But your laughter dies then. Partly because while the song does fit the theme overall, the message you’ve always taken away from it is simply about living in the moment and appreciating what you have, however unimportant or insignificant it might seem to someone else, which doesn’t really fit with going to war against ancient evil. And partly because of how the woman herself doesn’t seem to know why she chose that song at all. The moment she said it, confusion flashed over her features and with every second since, she looks increasingly befuddled.

“Lose yourself,” you repeat on impulse, but this time saying it as a suggestion to yourself.

Immediately, there’s a strange little click inside your head, and then the glimmer suddenly comes into full focus, so distinct now that you know it. How did you never think of it before? Oberyn even said it to you, in your final conversation on your way north from Antarctica.

You cannot possibly think that anything but giving it everything you have is going to be enough to free them all.

Every word he ever spoke to you or around you, lives in your mind, remembered in such vivid detail you can even recall the slight tremor in his voice as he’d said it.

“Andreia,” you say, turning to face her and pulling her into a tight hug which she bewilderedly reciprocates. “Thank you. You may have just saved everyone.”

You pull back and smile at her, but before she can say anything, Caelum picks you up and flies off with you, having heard you call out to her in your mind the moment the realization hit you.

“Am I to head west, then, Lightbringer?” she asks even as she aligns her beak to the shrouded horizon.

“Yes. It’s time to end this,” you answer out loud, because these words should be heard. The time for sneaking around and whispering between shielded minds is over. “I finally know how to free your sisters.”

Your once again brimming confidence rubs off on the owl, and she sets a nearly impossible speed, excited by the prospect of seeing her fellow spirits restored to their rightful glory. It doesn’t take long before you’re back underneath the poisonous cloud, and right away you can tell that it’s changed since your last visit, maybe a year and half earlier. The air is so thick with soot and ash that it clings to your skin and colors you black, while also wreaking havoc on your lungs in mere minutes.

Undoubtedly, this is what the entire world would eventually become, once all life had been consumed and all that was left for the armies of death to occupy themselves, was to torture each other, flooding the air with their oily blood and mutated skin cells. You’re grateful to know that this will never come to pass, while you cough up some of the black goo which has already begun to accumulate in your throat and lungs. It doesn’t harm you since you’re continually healing the damage it does, but it hurts more than one might imagine.

Looking up, you can see that Caelum isn’t affected by it, beyond how it obscures her sight, so you do your best to help her navigate by trying to get a sense of where Simon is. You find him quite quickly, detecting a massive surge of energy as he realizes his enemy is back. Which is probably the only thing he’s had to be excited about in a very long time. Directing the spirit there, you instruct her to drop you from an altitude high enough that she’ll be safe even if Octopus should be around and attempt to reach her with its enormous tentacles.

“Such a fall will break many of your bones,” she notes, not really out of concern, but more like she’s just making sure you know.

“I’m aware. It’ll be fine.”

The weightlessness is strangely liberating. Instead of falling, it makes you feel like you’re soaring, maybe because of how hopeful your realization has made you. But still no more than a trick of the mind. Hitting the ground removes the illusion when your legs completely shatter, all the way up to your hips, and fractures to your spine, ribs and arms make themselves known moments later.

You can still move, though, and as you feel Simon approach, you manage to claw yourself up to a seated position, finding that ignoring the pain is easier than you’d thought this time, which gives you comfort even as your enemy reaches you, sporting a large smirk on his disfigured face. Whatever’s been going on here for the past three years, he’s clearly begun to mutate himself, because his features aren’t entirely recognizable as human anymore.

He still has two legs and arms, and only one head, but the true shape of the Darkling has started to emerge, and it’s fucking hideous.

“Eww… the hell happened to you?” you ask, breathing hard through the pain, but otherwise mostly disgusted by his appearance.

Unlike his minions, the dark one is dry. His skin is a pale grey and where it’s cracked from the lack of moisture, mostly on his arms and hands but everywhere else too, there are miniature faces growing out of his flesh. Not like images of faces, but rather as though tiny people are actually trapped inside of him, trying to crawl out through the gaps but held back by some thin, partly transparent film. He’s at least ten feet tall now, so there’s much more space for these trapped people to crowd around, but they’re still fighting each other for room.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, and even his voice is unrecognizable. “This is my collection. The ones I like the most get to live inside me. The ones who are the most frightened… they make such delightful music inside my mind.”

You were hoping it wasn’t what it looks like, but clearly, it is. He probably grows larger with each soul he devours, and since he couldn’t have infected any new people for a long time, these must be his own creatures. Which would mean, once the mutated body is destroyed, the original human soul is still there, to some extent. But not in a way that would enable them to be restored. Their bodies are gone and no power on earth could bring them back. But at least the destruction of the Darkling will set them free.

“You’re using them to protect yourself.. aren’t you?” you ponder, trying to buy time for the spirits to reveal themselves, but also hoping to understand more about him, since that will help you take him down. “You cover yourself with them to make it harder for anyone to reach your dead heart.”

“Well, of course. Who’s gonna try and reach into this mess of scared little people, so desperate to escape their hell, they’ll crawl into the skin of anyone who touches me, driving that person mad. Ingenious, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose. In a devilish sort of way.”

“You will make a very nice addition to the flock…” he pauses, and puts a finger to his lips as if trying to think of something which evades him, “…oh, what was it Oberyn called you? I only heard it once, but it was something Egyptian, wasn’t it?”

You don’t really wanna hear that name spoken by anyone else, but since you’re still not sensing any spirits, you play along.

“Kaivalya.”

“Ah, yes! Freedom. How insulting a name to give to a creature whose entire life has been doomed to this ending from before she was even born,” he laments, putting on a very noticeably fake tone of compassion just to irritate you.

His voice already grates your eardrums. It’s so dry and course he can’t get much volume to it, but it still manages to cut straight into your brain with how it breaks on the high notes. The fake sentiment only manages to mildly annoy you in comparison.

“It was a promise…” you spit through teeth held tight against the pain of your legs trying to realign themselves so that the bones can be set, only to hurt more when the angles they’re trapped in won’t allow the movements.

“A promise? That old prince promised you freedom, and you believed him?!” Simon squeals before starting to laugh, further abusing your ears.

“No,” you counter, once you’ve adapted to the new level of pain. “He didn’t promise me freedom… He couldn’t have, because I was never his prisoner. He named me Freedom because that’s what I gave to him. A heart free to love again.”

You can tell he’s about to counter, it’s easy because his smirk returns every time his own thoughts amuse him, but you’re done with this distraction so you continue before he can.

“That’s what you took from him. I gave him this amazing gift… and you ripped it out of him.”

“Prince Martell sealed his own fate by allowing his fears to rip him apart,” he challenges, no longer smirking, though. “He was so scared for you. So worried you’d lose and he’d have to live on without you. And so, the coward you loved, the man who knew better than anyone how important it would be to keep hope alive in the time of the Darkling, chose to die rather than fight for you.”

Fuck. He’s found your weak spot and thrown a knife into it. You shouldn’t care what he says but you can’t help how his words cut through you, because they’re the same ones you’ve battled with in your nightmares. The same ones you’ve been unable to answer ever since it first dawned on you that he’d turned. Why did he give in? He knew what would happen. How could he leave himself so vulnerable?

But this is why you’re here. To set things right, no matter what happened in the past. You’ll never get those answers, so all you can do is let the questions go. And just as you begin to calm yourself, you feel it. They’re coming. He’s summoned them to watch as he devours you. And to protect him, should you have some trick up your sleeve.

“Tell me something, Si…” you start, giving them time to come closer before you get this over with. “Did you really think you’d ever get me to surrender to you? Is that what all this flaunting of your achievements is meant to do? To win me over?”

He sours while he listens, clearly unable to think of a witty comeback because you’re right. He absolutely thought that this, beating you, would be such a triumph you wouldn’t be able to resist admiring him.

“I’m the fucking goddess of all light, you prick. I was never gonna bow to you, you’re nothing but a shadow under the bed, a cockroach hiding in the bottom of the sink. You named me Boo, remember? Because even back then, I was better than you.”

You’re not actually trying to antagonize him, you just really wanted to give him a piece of your mind before you get this show going. But true to form, he’s enraged by your insults and comes at you with his arms raised and ready to beat you into the ground. The nine all are there, too far away for your eyes to make them out in the dark and dusty air, but close enough that you can feel them, standing in a circle around you and their master. And Caelum circles directly above you, just as you’d asked her.

“Don’t hesitate,” you tell her, as you watch Simon measure his first punch.

“Your sacrifice will not be in vain… Kaivalya,” she replies, and unlike the Darkling, her use of your most beloved name shows you just how much she respects you.

Nothing else is said between you. Nothing more is needed.

The Ten Spirits of the World Air - Forest - Water - Stone - Night - Autumn - Winter - Spring - Summer.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you wish to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

@harriedandharassed @kittenlittle24 @joelswritingmistress @pedrostories

#oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn x reader #prince oberyn #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones au #au fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #halloween writing #spooky season fic #halloween fic #sirowsky stories

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redfurrycat · 8 months

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🐓🤠Hangster Fic Recs🤠 🐓

🐓🤠Hangster Goodies to Read! 🐓🤠

[Recs List 5]

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

List of Hangster Ao3 Authors in Recs List 5:

[Recs List 1] - [Recs List 2] - [Recs List 3] - [Recs List 4] - [Recs List 5]

Off The Market by fearfrost1211 {T}

Even in his peripheral, Jake could see the woman pout. Wait, he frowned, nearly turning and asking right then, what did Roo mean off the market? He was seeing someone?

takin' my heart out (of its zone of comfort) by tearsricochets {T}

Javy, who is still holding on to Bradley like they’re best friends, shakes his head. “Sorry, boss man, I walked all over set. This Tanner dude just isn’t here.” Who the fuck is Tanner? He tries to convey this question to Javy with his eyes, but the actor is not paying a lick of attention to him. He’s looking at the man in front of them, who is instead looking at Bradley like the brunette is the sole cause of every problem in his life right now. “Then who the hell is this guy?” As of finally noticing their boss was no longer pacing in front of them, or that he was suddenly getting louder in tone, Natasha and her friend look up at the new additions of their group. Bradley pretends not to notice the blonde taking an appreciative look at him, but he’s a simple man and absolutely preening under the attention. “This is Bradley,” he gives a meek way to the man burning holes in his head. “And he’s going to fill in as my other half today.” “Excuse me?” He’s going to what? OR: the one in which Bradley is not an actor, but he is going to film a music video for the hot singer

Darkest Little Paradise by hangmanbradshaw {E}

Bradley never thought he'd be dealing with another round of hospital visits, especially not for the only family he had left. When he stumbles upon a book at his rare books store, he finds himself at a crossroads there may be no turning back from, but hey...don't blame him, love made him crazy. Or, Bradley *take my hand, wreck my plans, that's my man* Bradshaw needs to save Mav so he decides to make a deal. Enter Jake. Everything changes in ways he never could have imagined.

here is that rainbow by magdarko {M}

Five times Jake did something Bradley didn't expect and one time Bradley returned the favor.

Storm's Coming by imafriendlydalek {M}

There's a hurricane headed toward San Diego and Rooster gets sent to a nearby aircraft carrier to help move planes back on land before it sails out to sea. Too bad the storm has other plans.

Love Makes My World Go Round by KatofKanals {E}

Jake Seresin had essentially been having babies for the better part of a decade—enough of them to necessitate a car with three rows of seating. At almost 40, he was definitely done with that phase of his life. His husband, Bradley Bradshaw, however, might just disagree.

top gun missing scenes by teacupivy {E}

the whole time, under the lights

Jake "Hangman" Seresin is unraveling the mystery that is Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, one thread at a time, if it kills him. They've been fighting and fucking for years, and everything comes to a head when they're recalled to Top Gun for a special training detachment and find themselves competing to be team leader.

as he falls from his perch

Bradley Bradshaw has a knack for losing people, either watching them go or running them off. Jake Seresin seems to just keep coming back.

spend my time trying not to feel it by lesbiseresin {M}

“There was a flier for what their upcoming events are. You know Halloween is on Thursday.” Fanboy waits for him to nod to go on. “They’re doing something every night this week. Different themes on different nights.” Bradley raises his eyebrows. “Let me get this straight. You’re trying to drag me to a costume party?” (alternatively: halloween, a gay bar, jake, and bradley. what could possibly be complicated about that?)

When Danger Comes Home (Don’t Ever let it Roost) by ToukoJalorda003 {M}

Bradley adored his job, and it had been his dream to go into law enforcement as a kid. He had everything he’d ever wanted - except for a romantic partner, but he’d never even consider dragging them into his dangerous personal life. …Until he took a smuggling case involving Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, a known member of the city’s organized crime syndicate. Maybe he’d bitten off more than he could chew, this time.

Favorite Poison by AncientAviators

Reprieve (Can You Ever Forgive Me?) {M}

“Exactly. If you wanna—” Maverick waves his hand, shaking his head— “I dunno, go start up a ranch somewhere, then do it. If you wanna go back to school, then go back to school, start a family, don’t start a family, get married or never settle down. Follow your dreams. Figure out if you even have any other dreams. Don’t…” He pauses, voice quieting, going soft and sincere, and Bradley’s chest aches a bit. “I don’t want you to ever limit yourself just because you feel like you owe it to your dad, Bradley.” A brief moment of silence. He knows he probably shouldn't ask, he might not be able to handle the answer. “Is that why you stuck around?” “Because of my dad, or because I felt like I owed it to yours?” Maverick asks, eyes coming back up, a small, sad smile on his lips. He holds Bradley’s gaze, the fire flickering on his face, the shadows dancing and disappearing before coming back in rapid succession. Or: Post-Mission healing, Jake and Bradley have history, and Bradley's trying to figure out his life.

The Hand That Feeds {M}

He kind-of wants to be, honestly. He really wants to be. He thinks he could spend the rest of his life with Bradley, doing just this. Coming home to each other, having dinner together, falling asleep in the same bed. Maybe it’s the few sips of wine he had or he’s just losing his mind, but he can almost imagine himself giving up flying for Bradley, if it meant more time with him. They got lucky, being kept as a squadron. Jake needs to thank Iceman, Maverick, and Cyclone. He’ll have to send gift baskets.

Deferment (I Have Plans) {T}

They both glance at the front door when it opens, Iceman and Maverick’s voices carrying from the entryway. Jake sits up, balancing on his elbows. When the silver-haired man sees them on the couch, he turns away from Maverick. “Get up and get dressed, Cyclone needs us for a meeting.” He briskly heads for the bedroom, ignoring his husband, who tries to continue whatever conversation they were having before they came inside. “Tom—” Bradley turns his phone off and blinks, stretching his legs and back and biting back a groan. “It’s Sunday, though?” “That’s what I told him,” Ice calls out dryly from the hallway.

Paperback Thrills by twowritehands {T}

On a dagger team road trip from California to Texas, Jake stumbles on an embarrassing secret hidden in Phoenix's bag, and it just won't leave his head. Not until he tries it for himself, and life is never the same again.

Right now I wish you were here with me by FlowersOnMyMind {T}

He doesn't miss his husband's thick, Texan drawl or his stupid smirk. He definitely doesn't miss the Alpha's scent of campfire, leather, and the grass after it rains. He doesn't miss tripping over Jake’s cowboy boots in the entryway of their home. He doesn't miss seeing Jake's Stetson hanging on the hook by the front door. Or the way he teases Bradley, trying to get a rise out of him. He doesn't- He misses Jake so much it hurts. Or Jake is sent across the world for a mission that takes much longer than they thought. He and Bradley don't handle it well.

I can be your fantasy (football punishment) by ok_thanks {_}

“This year, the second annual season of the Dagger Squad Fantasy Football League, the loser, one Bradley Bradshaw, must face a fate worse than death.” Nat pauses for dramatic effect. “He must – drumroll, please, boys... — Successfully and wholly complete the Scholastic Aptitude Test, also known to some as the SAT.” As if that wasn't bad enough, the proctor being Javy's stupidly handsome best friend — who he keeps running into — adds to his misery. AKA: the one where Bradley's fantasy football punishment leads to an embarrassing crush of high school teacher Jake.

Let's fall in love for the night (and forget in the morning) by Conny_the_destroyer {E}

There are so many possibilities of how Jake imagined he would spend this fine summer night. What he hasn't considered is driving his car to a dive bar on the outskirts of town half an hour after midnight. Bradley gets hurt and it's Jake who finds him.

a force to be reckoned with by winterbitch {T}

They're running from monsters they don't understand, desperate for safety in the water that Maverick promised them. Only the monsters are desperate, jut as much as they are, and they step in the water too. It's not safe. Until it is, as Hangman's easy smirk and sharp blade cut through the sky. Rooster doesn't understand, but he knows he's in love. or bamf son of the poseidon hangman au with smitten rooster and maverick who knows more than he should (and some sneaky hangman and iceman dynamics)

cause I can’t help it if you look like an angel (can’t help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so) by cryinginthebronco {M}

“What’s wrong?” Jake gives his best friend a worried look, already getting up from his seat. Out of habit, he grabs his clipboard, ready to follow Javy wherever he needs him. “Do you have a moment to talk?” Javy asks, easing the clipboard out of Jake’s hands. Not understanding what’s going on, Jake only nods and lets him take it. “Okay, one second.” Javy gives him a tight smile and walks away, followed by Jake’s disoriented look. -or it was supposed to be a "someone is a little loopy after anesthesia" fic, but it spiraled into something a little bit longer - or nurse jake au

Always by greenstuff {E}

Jake meets Bradley for the first time when they're eighteen. This is the story about how they fall in love, break up, and then spend years finding their way back to each other. A modern Persuasion, if you squint a bit.

Rulebreaker by Fuddlewuddle {E}

Jake doesn't sleep with Alphas as a rule. Bradley Bradshaw made him want to break that rule. An unscheduled, but well-timed heat, might help the Omega get that through the Alpha's thick skull of his

any man of mine by bottledyarn {T}

Bradley sighed. “It’d just be nice if he was nice once in a while, that’s all I’m saying.” “Gotta say, this is a hundred times worse than your horny era,” Nat said, and Bradley stabbed a pointer finger at her. “There was no horny era,” he said. “And—and I’m not hung up on him. He’s just—” “‘Aggravating,’” Nat said, yanking the word out of his mouth. “I’ve heard it before. And you definitely are hung up on him. Are, have been, probably always will be. Maybe that’s the real reason his name’s Hang-man. Stringing you along without even realizing he’s doing it.”

Love (Suite Love) by hangmanbradshaw {T}

Jake never thought he'd leave a pop concert with a public crush. Bradley was on vocal rest. Really, he was.

Fire in the Blood and Smoke in the Air by MadeItUp {M}

Dirty and Sweet (Get it on)

As things wind down after the mission, Rooster struggles with a need for something a little dangerous. That something absolutely should not – cannot – be Jake Seresin. But a little friendly competition and a lot of alcohol can go a long way to changing a man's mind. Hangman eyes Rooster’s empty beer, then his own. “How about that second shot?” “You tryna put me off my game?” “I don’t need you drunk to beat you, Rooster.” “What do you need me drunk for?”

feels good to know one thing

Jake doesn’t have the best relationship with his family, so when he’s summoned home for a special occasion, he calls up the one person he can trust to stick with him – after all, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw has never ever lost a wingman. But he’s about to find out that getting shot down in enemy territory to save Mav was a whole lot easier than surviving a long weekend chez Seresin. “So it’s a big family thing?” Jake says carefully. “Everyone bringing their partners?” “Well of course, Charlie’s promised to bring the kids and I’ve not even met Matty’s new girlfriend—” “So that means I can bring someone?” Silence on the line. His mom is no fool. She knows when she’s been played. “Of course, Jakey,” she says. “You’re welcome to bring anyone you like.”

Will Get Fooled Again

Personal history isn’t enough to get in the way of professional opportunity, and when Lieutenant Commanders Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw are selected to develop a pioneering Strategy Development Program at TopGun, working with the best young aviators the fleet has to offer, each figures they’re up to the challenge both in the air and on the ground. After all, a little rivalry can heighten the senses and bring out the best results… Or it can bring out something else altogether. “I’m not hard to impress,” Jake says, laying the cue down on the table. “I just don’t like people kissing my ass.” “Really?” Rooster says, and there’s a marginally lower register to his voice, a flicker of something crossing his expression that has excitement sparking in Jake’s gut. Walking round to take his drink from where he’s left it, Jake faces the others, resting the ass in question on the table and taking a sip of his drink, before answering. “Hero worship’s for people who don’t know their own worth.” He flashes a winning smile at his friends. “Some of us don’t need it.”

Up in the skies by AnadoraBlack {M}

Bradley hasn't been on Tarakona in more than ten years. It's time he goes home. Besides, at 30 years old, there's next to no chance a dragon egg would hatch for him, right?

pumpkins and whiskers by youlookgood {T}

Needing a fresh start, Bradley moves from his old childhood home in San Diego to a far away small town. It's nice enough, he supposes. The residents certainly have that small-town autumn charm going for them. His new next-door neighbor's pretty nice too. What's less than nice is said neighbor's roommate, and his equally annoying orange cat.

Evil Be Gone by MadeItUp {E}

Training on the F/A-18 is everything he’s ever wanted, but Bradley’s dream becomes a nightmare when a new recruit joins the Golden Eagles. Blond hair, green eyes and a smirk so wicked he could rival the devil, Jake Seresin is everything Bradley hates – arrogant, brilliant and an unrelenting asshole. It’s almost as if he’s been sent there as Bradley’s own personal demon… All Bradley’s seen of the man so far is the back of his head – dirty blond hair cut short and sharp to the nape of his neck. At Nija’s invitation, Seresin turns to smile at the room, hand coming up in a lazy salute, his grin as sharp, as calculated, as the cut of his hair. His eyes are green, his dimples deep, and he’s far too pretty to be trusted.

you’re not fooling me (I can see) by magdarko

When MI Private Investigations gets a new case from a mysterious client, Bradley must confront old fears and new uncertainties. Throw in a creepy old house on a moonlit night, and you’ve got all the makings of a mystery.

#hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin #hangman x rooster #hangster fic recs #hangster recs list 5 #I need a shorter version because I have way too many bookmarks on AO3 #I appreciate the work of the Hangster's fan artists and authors #Thank you for feeding the obsession of so many...myself very much included!#love and appreciation #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈

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prince-kallisto · 6 months

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Very much agree with all of your thoughts on Playful Land. The ending really was lackluster...to be honest, when I first saw the trailer, I was soooo excited for what had the potential to be THE darkest, most disturbing event in all of TWST (I thought their card designs were already so cool and unnerving at the same time! Their outfits but also their eerily puppet-like poses...!). But at the end, none of the topics that you mentioned that could have been explored were explored. Like hello, you are dealing with fucking HUMAN TRAFFICKING??!? Also more emphasis on magic being used for something like THIS. Turning people into puppets is fucking terrifying.

Also, very much a minor nitpick, but I kiiiind of expected/hoped this event to take place during the same time as the Masquerade event? Since the Playful event involved everyone who stayed behind. Like, I'm just imagining everyone who went to the Masquerade coming back after a hectic near death experience, only to find that the people left behind went through a terrifying experience of their own at the same time and are now traumatized, and nobody had a fun Halloween. Lmao. Although I guess it didn't make much sense to expect this, since Yuu's in both events and they can't be in the other when they're already at one lmao.

I'm also not hating, all in all it was actually a pretty decent event all things considered! I also loved the introduction of Fellow and Gidel. And the song slaps imo. Still, if you make a fix-it fic or find any, think you could share it? I'd love to see your work if you do make one!

Ahhh I feel the same way too! It really felt like the Halloween events were about to get darker and darker every year- they are HALLOWEEN events for a reason! Their cards were so eerie too, it made all the characters look like puppets under control. Which is why it’s so strange that none of that actually happened in the event? ∑(ﾟДﾟ) The boys did get wooden masks and such, losing their own autonomy, but I thought the puppet theme would be a lot heavier than it actually was. Like, at least forcing the boys to fight against Kalim, Ortho, and Ace, instead of using random wooden puppets.

THE HUMAN TRAFFICKING BEING BRUSHED OFF HAS ME ROLLING 😭😭😭. What do you mean Fellow just sails away to open a school for children 😭😭😭 Like the game literally never elaborates on what happened to the people turned into human puppets. Are they dead?? Are they alive and forever trapped in this horrifying puppet-like state??? Like??? I definitely need to read up on the last parts of the event, but the idea that someone can even has this ability is horrifying, and I really would’ve liked to see the commentary on this sort of magic. How magic and human greed combine to create unthinkable atrocities that are only doable through magic. It’s just…wow. It blows my mind that this incredible concept was conceived, but never elaborated on.

Haha, exactly! I think it’s so funny that no one’s predictions on Playful Land came true. Nothing about Ace’s brother was involved, the Masquerade event theory didn’t happen. I don’t think it was even Halloween during this event either. Maybe it could’ve been a “Fairy Gala IF” type of event where Yuu can be at both events for alternate-universe type of thing. Although, to be honest, neither Yuu or Grim played a huge role in the story (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*) I’m always happy to have Grim with us, and him dressed up as Lampwick made me cry, but Yuu was more of an observer than usual.

And same here! I know I sound negative but I’m really not! I love the event for what it is, and we got amazing new characters and animations and costumes. It’s just a shame to think of what could’ve been. I haven’t seen any fix it fics yet, at least on Ao3! I have been working on drafting a rewrite though! ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) I’m really excited to write my visions for this event, especially with Fellow and Gidel’s backstory, and I’ll keep everyone updated on this. Whenever I drop the chapters, I’ll always post about them on my blog and link my Ao3 updates. It will take a while before I get there, but I hope it’s soon, thank you for interest! ＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و //／／ Thanks for your ask, I loved hearing your thoughts about this event!

#kallistopost #twst playful land #ask kallisto

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jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear · 7 months

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Wholesome Halloween || A Year One Drabble

In a scriddler themed discord server I take part in, we all decided to do a halloween-themed art and fanfic exchange. What follows below is my fic and wonderfully amazing art by @tromroan

_____________________

The trees are starting to change colors in Arlen Georgia, and that means two things. For one, it's autumn---and Arlen's autumn is lovely, albeit a bit of a barren wasteland where few live. And two, it means spooky season is now cloaking the small settlement's children with delightful visions of candy and costumes.

But, for one child--this is not so. That child name is Jonathan Crane and he lives with his Great Grandmother in what once was a luxurious manor on the outskirts of town. Today though, the building is falling apart at the shingles and it leaks when it rains. It is not a happy life, for a myriad of reasons.

And all Jonathan knows is that this time of year is full of forbidden delights. He is not allowed to go out and trek the neighborhoods for candy. He can't even pray for it, and you pray a lot on this town. There is no dressing up either, that's devil worship according to Great Granny.

However, this year is going to be different. This year, he wants to disobey Great Granny. Jonathan thinks deserves candy and fun. Just like all the other kids. For years this child went without. Without dessert, without new clothes, without allowance. Just once, he needs to be a kid--before it's too late for that sort of play.

So, a plan was hatched. This is a boy of science and literature. He is smarter than he looks. Jonathan plans to sneak out after dark, once all his daily chores. As for Great Granny? Every night she has a bed wine, something to calm her heart. That night, the wine would be tainted. Poisoned even. The clever cocktail would knock her out quickly enough, giving Jonathan chance to escape. And wouldn't you know? It works. His plans always work.

All hallows eve is here. Great Granny is fast asleep well before bedtime and won't be waking up till the next morning. Jonathan decided before hand what he wanted his costume to be. He is going as his namesake--the very thing no other child would expect, as it is far too obvious. A Scarecrow. With some burlap from the backyard barn and some old sheets -- he made for a fine Scarecrow.

Jonathan had a pillowcase to candy, and a flashlight to keep him safe. It was going to be a wonderful night. First and foremost he had to stop at the Arlen penny store, of which his giving away small treats to every kid who stops by. The cloaked Scarecrow was greed with some sugar sticks and a small chocolate coin. Next, the one lone neighborhood with a little less than a dozen houses. He went door to door, alluding any bullies as most children were too focused on chocolate to care who was under the mask. For each house he visits, he is is gifted with a small handful of goodies. He can't believe his eyes as they grab a handful from a plastic bowl and shove it into his pillowcase. That is a lot of sweets--all for me, he thinks.

Finally, after the last homestead is looted--Jonathan remembers the one wealthy family in town and that they are giving out full sized bars at the schoolhouse. Realizing now how dark it was, he was not going to miss out on a big bar of chocolate so with all the strength in his lanky limbs, he rushes to the school.

Thankfully he arrives just in time, and the kind family hands him their last chocolate bar. What luck! Jonathan is ecstatic about his haul and with the biggest grin under his burlap facade, he heads home.

With Great Granny tucked in her bed, out like a light, Jonathan sneaks into the backdoor on the far end of the manor. Over time, he's learned the best sneaking techniques, and how to tip toe without a mouse's squeak of the floorboards. Slow and steady he walks up the stairs to his attic bedroom.

With too much candy to eat in one night, Jonathan indulges himself in just three pieces of candy, that--and the full sized chocolate bar. Boy, it tastes heavenly. His first real dessert. It's a taste he won't ever forget. And as for the rest of the sweets? Diligently hidden under the wood floors, even more so out of sight, as that particular wooden board lies beneath a bookshelf.

He can rest easy tonight, with a belly full of sugary delight. This was to be his only halloween as a child, for not a year later---his life would change forever.

#Jonathan Crane #Scarecrow #The Scarecrow #Scriddler Discord Exchange #DC #DC Comics #Year One #tromroan #Moffy Writes #love the art so much here

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jennilah · 2 months

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I think i started to follow you bc of tiny!cas, like eons ago, let me tell you seeing you get into different fandoms over the years has been a delight.

I remember seeing post of you going like 'hey these slasher film kinda go hard' and look at you know.

I mean this in the best way possible, I feel i've been watching a house plant grow, every now and then catching my attention and being amazed by the changes

omg thats such a sweet way of describing my... well happy autism awareness day everyone, its a nice way of describing the way i naturally transition through my Special Interests lmfao

actually, for the holiday, let me infodump about this very aspect of my brain to anyone who isnt aware how this works for me. (also every autistic person is different, so this is just how this symptom manifests in me)

ill say "phases" to simplify, though thats an unfair word because it implies im "over" my past phases. 99% of my past phases are pretty much there for life, but in the back of my mind. (So long as I didnt have a "bad breakup" with it for some reason, which is rare but happens) The ability to become a raving lunatic about it is dormant until someone asks the right question.

There can only be one interest (sometimes 2, with one being the less dominant one) at the forefront of my brain at a time, though. that defines the "phase".

so for example, my recent Halloween phase is "over" and I am 100% fully into Saw now, but I still absolutely love Halloween and Michael and Jason and all those guys. as evident by me still happily sharing gifsets and art and buying merch etc if it tickles my fancy. They're just hanging out in the background of my mental display case.

yea whoever follows my tumblr for a very long time has watched it happen in realtime. the transition between interests. i know for a fact which phase I started this blog on. if you're here from the beginning, youve seen, in order:

-Durarara!! -Deus Ex -Supernatural -Godzilla -Detroit: Become Human -There was like a few weeks where it was HLVRAI -And then it was plants. There was a year-long stretch with no Special Interest and I was latching onto odd things (and I was very inactive here) -Halloween & Friday the 13th -and now, Saw

I have many other things I love, but they don't clamp around my brain in quite the same extreme way.

my phases can last any amount of time, anywhere from a few short intense months to 5+ years, its completely random, completely unpredictable. even the interest itself is impossible to predict. its not something i choose, its something that happens to me.

sometimes i avoid watching things for a long time because im still very emotionally attached to my current phase and im genuinely afraid the shiny new thing will replace it. all art or fic ideas for the previous phase? theyll be abandoned. all I will want to create will be related to the new thing. (though I will sometimes draw it anyway, like digging up old toys to play with once in a while. The likelihood just drops considerably)

which is why right now i pretty much put a pause on the other franchises I plan on watching. I'm genuinely gripping onto Saw like someone is tryin to take it from me.

and then sometimes im like "haha yeah right. ill be fine. ill eat my shoe if my brain latches to this" and then put on the movie and by the credits roll im a new person (yes thats what happened with Saw. I really had no idea.)

this is also why im terrified of even just "checking out" things that have, like, a toxic fanbase or something, because i cant stop a new phase from happening if it does. and its really hard to keep it to myself, fuck

(do u know how mad i was when i realized i was attaching to hoffman the evil dirty cop??? i was so scared of drawing him, dudes. but thankfully everyones been cool abt it and we're all very aware of his awfulness & we have fun w it)

and every time my brain changes and i do get obsessed with some new thing, i get really scared and worried and hope I dont bother everyone who followed me for something else :(((( and yet, every time, im absolutely floored by how many people choose to tolerate my newest nonsense and stick around anyway

anyway ive lost the plot of what point i was making here OH YEAH thank you!

tl;dr: that would be the autism! thank you, it WILL happen again! that is a threat! 🥰

#jennilargh #jenna answers

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yallwildinrn · 7 months

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Snake in the Grass: Chapter 1

For @ckhalloween23's catch-all prompt: An Empty Grave

This is a horror fic I've been working on since May or June. Given my current pace, it probably won't be out until the latter half of next year, butttt since I have this first chapter done (and I wanted it to be done in time for Halloween of this year), I figured I'd go ahead and post this as a preview and a treat! Well, treat for you guys and me haha.

Content warning for alcohol, bars, and general spookiness.

Pool balls whizz & clack against one another, but the sound is mostly drowned out. The bar, while not packed, is bustling with life, as is typical for a Friday evening; the sounds of yelling, laughter, and glasses clinking fill the already cramped space. It’s the victory cry of men who have been itching for the work week to finally, finally, end.

Dim, warm lights mask dirty floors and mysterious stains of unknown origin that seem to infect any and every upholstered seat. The single TV crammed into the back corner behind the bar top has caught the attention of several men, all shouting and celebrating – or complaining – at every pitch of the game with gnashing teeth. The bartender scrambles to sling out drink after drink of who-knows-what for the night’s customers.

Johnny himself is seated at a round, wooden table shoved near the back of the room. It’s almost uncomfortably close to the billiards tables, and each shrill hit against the pool balls becomes harder to ignore as the night wears on. He’s got some good distraction, though.

He lounges in his chair with a Coors in hand, surrounded by his friends. Bobby sits at his right, sipping his bourbon, while counterclockwise from there are Jimmy, Dutch, and Tommy. It’s tight, mostly because they had to steal a seat for Jimmy, but Johnny doesn’t mind. Not a damn bit.

He takes a long, slow sip from his drink. He still can’t believe they graduated from West Valley six whole years ago, and yet here they are, still thick as thieves. It’s not the same as it was back in high school (images of late-night, high-speed rides on their Hondas and getting plastered on the beach come to mind), but given how damn busy they all are, it’s an impressive amount of effort to keep traditions & meet-ups alive – like these monthly get-togethers at the bar, for example.

Johnny half-listens to a light-hearted argument between Tommy & Jimmy about baseball players he doesn’t give a shit about. Dutch, caught in the middle, has decided to antagonize the two of them by playing devil’s advocate for both sides. Things are getting heated, but it’s nothing Johnny finds worth worrying about. A nudge to Johnny’s arm snatches his attention away, and he turns to see Bobby with an expectant gaze and a soft, tipsy smile on his lips. Johnny reciprocates the smile without even thinking; he can thank the fact that he’s at least a few drinks in for that.

Bobby’s eyes sparkle as he leans towards Johnny. His cheeks are flushed, and his breath is rich and yeasty, laced with just a hint of sweetness. He smirks at Johnny and says, “I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s your back doing, old man?”

Anddd there it is. Johnny rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he answers, “Well, I’m no longer bed-ridden, so there’s that. I think I’ll be good to go back in a week or two once Dr. Gates gives me the green-light. I’m not supposed to see her for another two weeks, but if I feel better before then, I’m gonna see if she can squeeze me in, see if I can get back to work sooner.”

Bobby raises his brows in a look of mock shock, but it’s accompanied by a wry smile. “Did I just hear Johnny Lawrence say he’s trying to get back to work sooner? Thought you had worker’s comp to fall back on?”

“I do,” Johnny explains, snatching the neck of his Coors. The glass is smothered with wet drops of condensation that leave watery rings on the tabletop. “Just turns out that worker’s comp isn’t nearly as good as a roofing job. Pays the bills, but man.”

Johnny shakes his head and takes a swig of his beer. The icy cold liquid feels like a blessing, and he sighs as the bottle leaves his lips.

Bobby shrugs a little awkwardly. He tries to reassure Johnny as best he can by reminding him, “Hey, at least you’re getting comp this time.”

Johnny frowns harshly and shuts his eyes for a moment like he’s trying to will away a headache. He sets his beer down with a soft thunk, and the moisture clinging to the glass is already dripping back onto the table. He glares at a nearby wall and mutters, “Don’t remind me.”

“I’m just saying,” Bobby starts with a warm smile, swishing the alcohol in his glass with one hand. “Not working under the table has its perks.”

Another round of loud cheers fills the room. Sounds like someone finally hit the damn ball. “Yeah, but the government also takes half my damn paycheck. Jimmy still hasn’t helped me figure out how to deduct all my taxes yet,” Johnny says, loudly pulling Jimmy into the conversation.

Jimmy turns away from his own conversation with Tommy & Dutch. He leans onto an elbow and smiles at Johnny, but it’s certainly not genuine; if anything, there’s a bite to it. He answers, “Just because I’m an accountant doesn’t mean I can magically fix your taxes, Johnny. Become a business, then we can talk.”

Johnny flips him off, earning a round of chuckles around the table as Jimmy rolls his eyes and relaxes back into his seat. Dutch points at Jimmy with his beer bottle and asks the accountant, “Speaking of, have you finally been let out of your cage? First time we’ve seen you in, what? Months?”

Jimmy sighs, and Johnny realizes that the polo Jimmy’s wearing is probably the most casual thing he’s worn out and about in a while. “Tax season is finally over. Thank god for that,” Jimmy trails off, and he takes a long swig from his glass.

Tommy eyes his friends and pipes up, “Too late for another round of shots?”

Another round sounds fucking amazing. Johnny instead answers, “I’d love to, but my wallet says no.”

Bobby chimes in, “My liver also says no. That first round was enough for me.”

Dutch’s face crinkles into disappointment as he boos Bobby from across the table. His chair tips back an almost dangerous amount while he does. He shakes his head and laments, “Ya think you know a guy, but then he goes to priest school and becomes a damn prude.”

Bobby glares at him as his grip tightens on his glass. “It’s called seminary, and I’m becoming a pastor, not a priest.”

Tommy snickers & nudges Dutch, giving him a mischievous look. He points out, “Didn’t say he wasn’t a prude.”

Johnny snorts, earning himself a Bobby-patented glare, which then sends him into a laughing fit. Sometimes it can genuinely be scary to be on the receiving end of that gaze, but most of the time (especially after all these years,) it’s become damn hilarious. There’s another vicious clack of the pool balls; the start of a new game.

“I hate all of you,” Bobby huffs. He crosses his arms and leans back into his chair, dragging his gaze across the figures of his (almost) drunk friends, who are still much more sober than half of the room. “Why do I even hang out with you assholes? What did I do to deserve this?”

Jimmy sips on his glass and looks at Bobby. His lips curl into a wry smile. “Be a prude?”

Johnny thinks he can see a vein bulge in Bobby’s forehead, and he has to stifle another snort. Bobby’s lips pull into a tight, frustrated line across his face. He finishes the last of his bourbon with a small gulp and slaps his palm onto the table so he can push himself out of his chair. “I fucking hate you. All of you. I’m getting another drink.”

He pushes his chair back in with his foot and starts to weave through the maze of people & tables, and Tommy smiles like a Cheshire cat and calls out, “Can you-?”

“No,” Bobby yells back as he crosses the bustling room. Tommy cackles in his seat, and Dutch follows suit, clapping a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and howling beside him. Johnny simply shakes his head and leans onto the table, resting on his forearms.

The wood sticks to his skin. He can only imagine how much dust is trapped under layers of sticky god-knows-what. Probably more than he realizes. It’s kind of gross to think about, but it doesn’t really faze him, especially when everything about this bar fits that bill. Not much about this place is great: the bartender’s a dick, the bowls of pretzels are stale as shit and few & far between, it’s impossible to find a seat without a weird stain on it, and there’s never more than two beers on tap.

That doesn’t mean it’s all bad, though. Johnny never has to worry about them running out of Coors. It’s a pretty good distance between all their places. The prices aren’t half bad, and hell, it doesn’t even come close to gracing their top ten list of “Shittiest Bars This Side of California!” So yeah, really not all bad, at least if you ask him.

Tommy’s hyena-like cackle grabs Johnny’s attention and pulls him back into whatever conversations he’s missed. “No, no,” Tommy starts, smiling wide. “I’m just- can you believe any of us actually graduated?”

Jimmy levies Tommy with a self-satisfied smile. “No, I actually can’t believe any of you guys graduated,” he teases. Tommy rolls his eyes.

Dutch scowls. “Yes, yes, we know. You made an A once and got into a big boy college, keep it in your pants,” He replies gruffly, finishing his statement with a swig.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tommy elaborates dryly while gesturing with his drink. “You’re not wrong, but think about it. Our senior year was such a shitshow.”

Dutch smirks and looks Johnny’s way. “I blame Romeo over here. Had no idea a breakup would lead to all that bullshit with LaRusso.”

Johnny stifles at the comment, and his cheeks flush – now red from more than just the alcohol – as he glares at Dutch. He’s about to bark out a comeback, but Bobby cuts him off when he comes sauntering back, freshly filled glass in hand, and retorts, “Oh please, we’re all to blame. We escalated it when we should’ve just left things alone.”

Bobby slides into his chair a little ungracefully, wood scraping against the floor, while Dutch shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He nods his head down a little sheepishly because… yeah. Bobby’s right, as much Johnny hates to admit it. Back at West Valley, they were all chomping at the bit to put the twerp in his place, but none of that needed to happen or even should have happened. They saw red, and LaRusso got caught in the crossfire. It was like they didn’t even see him. Just a conveniently placed punching bag.

The table’s air stills; the rest of the bar continues to thrum with activity while the atmosphere of their little corner slowly ices over. Johnny purses his lips and sips at his beer. Guilt gnaws his ribcage. Even after all these years, after the apologies and many, many steps to make things right, he’s still stuck with bitter memories that choke him up. He opts to study the many dings & scratches on the table rather than meet any of his friends’ eyes.

Jimmy’s the first to break the tense silence. “You know, if we have anyone to blame, it’s Kreese,” he spits out. It hits Johnny like a jab to the chest. He’s taken aback as Jimmy says this, but the man continues, “He put so much bullshit in our heads! All that punch first, think second nonsense. Like, come on-”

“Wait, wait,” Johnny interrupts while waving his hand to stop Jimmy in his tracks. How can he just say that? “Look, he was a total douchebag – I should fucking know – but we’re the ones who took what he said too far. We were still the ones who fucked with LaRusso. He didn’t tell us to do any of that shit.”

Tommy shifts beside him and stumbles over his words. “Yeah, like- but- Look, okay, you’re right, it’s totally on us for taking shit way too far, but Johnny,” Tommy says, and he turns to Johnny with pleading eyes. “He literally taught us to have no mercy. Literally. That’s not an exaggeration.”

Johnny frowns. “Yeah, but we took it out of context. He obviously meant to not take no for an answer, to- to keep pushing on despite the circumstances,” he explains. Are they seriously saying this shit? Even after all these years? After everything Kreese did for them? For fuck’s sake…

Dutch is next to speak. He throws Johnny an odd look as he adds, “Did we go to the same Cobra Kai? Because the one I went to taught us to do fucking everything to the extreme. Including the no mercy shit. Hell, he even had us do karate to the extreme. All those extra goddamn practices…”

“Yeah, and they were good for us. We needed some discipline!” Johnny snaps back defensively. His blood is starting to boil with every bullshit argument that his friends make.

He starts to bounce his leg. The sounds of laughter pouring out from a nearby table makes him want to snarl. He doesn’t get it, how can his friends just- just pass the blame onto Kreese? The guy at least tried to help them and make them into better people (before his sensei lost his mind, that is.)

Johnny turns to Bobby, who’s worrying his lip and squirming like he’s sitting on an anthill. “Come on,” Johnny says. “Back me up here.”

Bobby looks away from Johnny, jaw tense, but he turns back. He lets out a breath, look Johnny square on with a worrying level of sincerity, and says, “Johnny. Kreese worked us so hard once that you forget it was Ali’s birthday. She broke up with you over that.”

Johnny’s skin buzzes. He’s all too aware of the overpowering noise of the room. Hell, he feels like he can feel the next table over breathing on him. His stomach rolls. “That is not what happened,” Johnny insists with a hard stare. “Practice that day was not that bad. I remember it. It was fine.”

Tommy scoffs, “Then why were you so quick to go out drinking with us?”

Johnny’s more tense than a stretched-out rubber band, and he feels like he’s going to snap like one, too. He scowls and answers, “I forgot because…”

Johnny blinks and turns his gaze down. Sweat collects at the back of his neck while his chest tightens.

“No, I-I forgot because…”

His mouth is a cotton ball. He’s reaching into his mind, searching for the memory, but he just… it’s not right. It’s there, but somehow, it also isn’t. He remembers being brought in for an extra practice with his cobras, Twig being brought in to watch & help, the end of practice, getting ready to leave, and then…

His temples throb as tries harder to remember, but he can’t. There’s a gap, a void where something should be. It’s not like he’s just forgotten the details, god no. He’s actively reaching into his mind, searching and grasping for what should be there, sandwiched between the sparring and the night at the bar, but he just… He can’t. He can’t get there. Every time he thinks he’s brushing against what might be the memory in question, a pulsing throb shakes his skull, and it rattles his train of thought loose.

His eyes dart between his friends. His heart pounds furiously against his vice of a ribcage, and he wipes his sweaty palms against the thighs of his pants. Their faces are a varied array of distress and confusion. Why do they look like that? Are they trying – and failing – to remember, just like him? Shit, why can’t he remember?

A chill threatens to run down his spine. Could he ever remember?

When he was fresh off the breakup with Ali, he would spend hours torturing himself with all the ways he screwed things up; it was his way of trying to nail down exactly what he did wrong. Except… he always left that practice turned night-on-the-town alone. He never touched it, to his knowledge. Is- Is this why? Every time he tried to play the events over in his mind, would he get to this downright anomaly of a gap in his memory, and did it make him feel- well, make him feel like he does now? Sick and shaken?

Is that why he never, never thinks about the inciting incident that led Ali to yell at him and tell him things were done? Did the avoidance become muscle memory at some point so he would never try to recall that night & the memories associated with it?

He knows the answer. He doesn’t like it.

It doesn’t even feel natural. It’s not like he just forgot; no, it’s more like something was ripped out unceremoniously or maybe strangled and hidden in an unreachable corner of his mind. Does it matter what type of wrong it is? He wipes the sweat from his brow; the heat from the crowd of the bar tonight has finally caught up to him, it seems.

His mind circles back. Why can’t he remember? Why is there a gap? How long has it been there? Has- has it always been there? And not just any gap. No, a gap that, when he tries to recall upon what should be there, snaps up & bites him like a cornered animal. His head is throbbing. He fumbles for his beer and takes a long drink.

He looks again to his friends. He can only imagine the expression on his own face given theirs. He takes a chance and says, “Please tell me I-I’m not the only one who…”

Bobby slowly shakes his head, eyebrows knit, but he doesn’t meet Johnny’s gaze. Jimmy and Dutch don’t move; they simply squirm and keep their eyes down. Tommy’s chest is heaving as he sits up straight and looks ahead with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Johnny knows they must be in the same boat as him. They have to be.

Tommy answers with a shaky voice, “Who what?” Johnny almost drops his mouth wide open. Tommy’s asking that even though the man isn’t meeting anyone’s eyes and looks like he wants to run out of the room?

“Who what? What do you mean who what?” Johnny asks incredulously. “Who- who can’t fucking remember what happened that night!”

Tommy’s smiling, but it’s strained. He answers, voice as tight as his lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Johnny grips his Coors so hard he thinks it’s going to shatter in his hands. “What do you mean what I’m-? You know exactly what I mean. Look at us! Look at yourself! Something’s not right.”

“Johnny,” Bobby pleads. At some point he rested his forehead in his hands, elbows on the table. “You’re- you’re not wrong, but Christ-”

Johnny turns to face Bobby with an eager gaze. He cuts him off, saying, “You can’t remember, either. It’s not just me. Something’s wrong.”

Bobby sighs through his nose. He’s getting frustrated; it’s a tell Johnny knows well. “No, Johnny,” Bobby says shortly. “I can’t remember. But I don’t want to. God, I just… I think I can speak for all of us when I say let’s just drop it. Please. I don’t want to think about-”

Bobby’s practically pleading, but Johnny doesn’t care. What’s more fucking important: a little bit of discomfort or the fact none of them remember the same exact damn thing?

Johnny cuts him off again and snarls, “About the fact there’s a fucking gap in our memories? The same gap for all of us, I’m willing to bet? One we’ve probably had since that night?”

Bobby shuts his eyes, and Johnny’s not sure if the man is going to cry or punch him, but given their shared history at Cobra Kai, it’s probably the latter. Dutch speaks up next, snapping, “Johnny! Just drop it! Yes, our memories are fucked, big whoop. I don’t care! I don’t want to think about it either! I don’t know about you, but I don’t like trying to remember and feeling my skin try to crawl off my body.”

Johnny drums his fingers against his bottle. He can’t fight the scowl on his lips. “Seriously? You’re just going to ignore this? Just like that?”

Dutch laughs bitterly. “Seems like we’ve been doing that for years, man,” he says with a shake of the head, but he pauses and looks Johnny straight on. “You know what? Hold on, let me ask you something. Let’s say we do talk about this shit. Have a little pow-wow and Agatha Christie our way through this bullshit. What the hell would we even do? Seriously, how in the fuck would you even recommend we- we try to fix this? Please, share with the class!”

Johnny opens his mouth to answer but shuts it tight in that same instant. His cheeks flush again. He genuinely has no idea where to start, actually. He does know that if they work together, they might have a shot, but Dutch writing him off with that cruel smile makes Johnny want to scream.

“Exactly,” Dutch says like the self-assured bastard he is, gesturing at Johnny with his drink in hand. “We can’t do shit, and since we’ve gone this long without thinking about it, why stop now? Sounds like none of us want to think about it, for christ’s sake.”

Johnny’s throat is tight. He can hardly believe what Dutch is saying. What Tommy and Bobby have been fucking saying. His blood pulses under his skin, and he turns to Jimmy, almost begging, “Jimmy. Come on, back me up. We can’t just pretend this never happened.”

Jimmy doesn’t look him in the eye, and it’s enough to make Johnny’s heart sink. The brunette swallows, lips turned downward ever so slightly, and he hesitantly answers, “Look, I-I’m sorry Johnny. I can’t. Why don’t we just… let sleeping dogs lie? All remembering does is hurt, and we can’t do anything about it, so why can’t we just…”

Johnny screws his eyes shut tight and flexes a hand in and out of a fist a few times. He brings his Coors to his lips, takes a healthy gulp, and slams the bottle back onto the table with enough force to make his friends jump a little. He glares at them all. He can hardly believe all the bullshit he’s heard tonight.

“Why can’t I just what? Drop it? Why aren’t you pussies willing to do anything about this?! It’s not right! Something is fucking wrong, and you just want to act like nothing happened!” Johnny says. His voice is starting to raise, and he’s getting the attention of a few nearby patrons, but quite frankly, he doesn’t give a shit. Fuck ‘em. “What is wrong with you guys? Who gives a fuck if it hurts to think about it! Something is wrong, and it sure as hell wasn’t just forgotten. It’s gone. Or- or it’s there and we just can’t reach it but- Who cares! It’s still weird as shit, and you’re all just pretending like nothing fucking happened like a bunch of pussies!”

Bobby attempts to soothe him by saying, “Johnny, please, I don’t think this is as bad as you’re saying.”

Johnny feels his muscles tense, and he swears to god, he might break a tooth from how hard his jaw is clenched. He gets tunnel vision for a moment, only able to focus on the traitorous words that just came out of Bobby’s mouth, and when his vision clears, everything is suddenly too much again – screeching pool balls, wails & shouts from the crowd around them, the way his body is vibrating under his skin. He has to fight against the urge to throw & shatter his beer bottle on the ground (likely only because he’s not done quite with it yet).

He can’t believe that Bobby of all people would say that to him. Talk down to him like that. That simple sentence rubs him raw like coarse sandpaper dragged his skin. It conjures up painful memories of his mom brushing aside his pleas for help and, on occasion, Kreese asking him through a sneer if he’s a loser. And worst of all, Bobby knows this, better than anyone else. He’s been the one to listen to Johnny rant and rage about being brushed off and ignored. He knows how that phrase sets Johnny’s blood alight.

Johnny chugs the rest of his beer in one fell swoop and steps out of his chair so fast & hard it tumbles. He doesn’t even bother picking it up. He bites out, “Fuck this. I’m going home. I don’t give a fuck what you do. Pretend for all I care! Don’t come crying to me when this shit blows up in all of our faces.”

Johnny ignores Bobby’s protests as he begins to chase after the taller man, trying to get Johnny to talk to him or whatever. Johnny can’t talk to him, won’t. He can’t even look at him right now. He grits his teeth as he weaves between people, and the longer Bobby follows, the more certain Johnny becomes that he really might start swinging.

Johnny has to shoulder his way into an open spot and wait for the bartender to slide by, but flashing some cash is all it takes to grab his attention. He feels like his skin is going to vibrate right off his body, and he snaps at some asshole sitting beside him who tells him to watch it.

Bobby catches up to Johnny as he’s trying to pay the bartender, worthless platitudes tumbling out of his mouth, and Johnny hisses through clenched teeth, “If you don’t lay off, I’m gonna knock your teeth out, I swear to god.”

It works as intended. Bobby steps back, startled and wide-eyed. Johnny knows he looks a little wild right now, but he just does not care. He feels like he’s one wrong word or move away from snapping, from saying & doing shit he’s going to regret. He just wants to get out of this fucking bar and away from his shithead friends.

Johnny breathes a small sigh of relief when Bobby accepts defeat and slinks back to the table stuffed in the back of the room. He always was the smartest of the five of them. He knew when it was time to leave things be before it blew up in their faces. Johnny thinks of Daniel, and he feels a little sick, but it’s replaced with another wave of hot, tepid anger again, the same kind that haunted him all through high school.

With his tab paid, Johnny shoves his way out of the bar, other patrons throwing protests, swears, & a few obscene gestures at him, but Johnny makes himself ignore it and pushes on. If he starts to pay attention and care right now, even a little, he’s probably gonna get the cops called on his ass, and he just- he can’t deal with that on top of everything else tonight.

He opens the bar door with a hard shove, and the chill night air washes over him. While the streets are neither silent nor empty, it’s still much better than the bar, and he feels his chest loosen enough that he can breathe again. He stomps over to his Avanti, and halfway through sticking his key into the door’s lock, he decides that he doesn’t have enough beer at home to deal with this night.

#the karate kid #cobra kai #johnny lawrence #og cobras #horror #writing #my writing #snake in the grass #forgot to mention #this is set in a few years after TKK #May 1990 to be exact #I’ve so much work into this it’s not even funny #put so much*#I’m really proud of this ngl #wish I could let y’all know when it’ll be finished and out but #I’m hoping everything will be completely done and ready to publish by next Halloween #I’d say sooner but I’m going so slow rn #maybe I’ll be able to get some real writing done on winter break

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random-mailbox · 10 months

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Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 46 - Tutoring

Back to our regularly scheduled programming after the excitement of @usamamoweek2023 (check out the blog for various contributions, master post is coming in a couple of days to allow for any late submissions).

This week we look at fics where Mamoru takes on the role of a tutor for Usagi in various settings - ranging from high school to university. Some are more lemony than others.

Reminder that @smquickies2023 are next week! August 6-12 (and is open to any SM pairings).

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).

we are absolutely made of glass - @cgsf

This one shot is a lemony culmination of years of build-up that led to Usagi convincing Mamoru to help her graduate.

The Physiology of Tutoring - @uglygreenjacket

Usagi’s dad gets Mamoru to become her tutor for Biology because Ami’s methods were clearly not working. Leading to higher grades for Usagi, but also a lot of miscommunications and half truths spoken that will have to be cleared up.

A True Hero: An Essay by Usagi Tsukino - @linlamont

Mamoru, who has been dating Rei for a bit, agrees to tutor Usagi in English in spite of his girlfriend’s protests. In this enemies to lovers fic, Usagi and Mamoru slowly discover how to co-exist before realizing what they mean to each other.

i should tell you to leave ‘cause i (know exactly where this leads) - @goddamnelsa

Usagi thought that taking a physics class in university would be easy if she does it with her friends. Except Ami has too much on her plate to help, so she has to rely on her TA. With their tutoring sessions moving from office hours, to the library and eventually his apartment, Usagi and Mamoru have to make a decision on what they want to become and how ethical that might be. Make sure to read the entire series of stories!

Stuff Tippy Wrote -- Sailor Moon edition: Chapter 20: Usagi is bad at math - @tiptoe39

Mamoru is trying to help Usagi understand how to solve for X in a new way - using Choco Pies!

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That's it for this week. Here is the schedule for the next month:

August 7 - Thunderstorms

August 14 - Food

August 21 - Proposal

August 28 - Locked In

Here are the links to the previous Tumblr posts in these series to explore more amazing works based on different themes - make sure to check them out if you haven't had a chance! (Click on title name to go to the post) - I will keep updating the list every week as new posts come up:

Week 1 - Groundhog Day

Week 2 - Established Relationships

Week 3 - Sex Positivity

Week 4 - Unfinished Stories

Week 5 - Darker Stories

Week 6 - Potions 🧪

Week 7 - Reveals

Week 8 - 👻Halloween🎃

Week 9 - Wrong Perceptions

Week 10 - Non-Senshi AU

Week 11 - In-Progress Fics

Week 12 - Mutual Pining

Week 13 - Enemies to Lovers

Week 14 - Slow Burn

Week 15 - Christmas Part 1 - Ugly Christmas Sweaters and Santa!

Week 16 - Christmas Part 2

Week 17 - New Years

Week 18 - High School AU

Week 19 - Slice of Life

Week 20 - Coffee shop AU

Week 21 - Huddle for Warmth

Week 22 - Friends to Lovers

Week 23 - ❤️Valentines Day❤️

Week 24 - Do a Grouch a Favour Day (or Cheer Up Fics)

Week 25 - Soulmate AU

Week 26 - Amnesia Fics (and resources)

Week 27 - 🍀St Patrick's Day🍀

Week 28 - Fix it Fics

Week 29 - Prompt: Mug

Week 30 - Flowers

Week 31 - Traditions

Week 32 - Dreams

Week 33 - Friends

Week 34 - Body-Swap

Week 35 - Medical Assistance

Week 36 - Sex Pollen

Week 37 - Psychometry

Week 38 - What If

Week 39 - Missing Scenes Part I

Week 40 - Green Jacket

Week 41 - Dr Chiba

Week 42 - Birthdays

Week 43 - Fluff

Week 44 - First Kiss

Week 45 - Reviving Shitennou

#sailor moon #usagi x mamoru #fic rec #fic list #tutoring

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klbwriting · 1 year

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The Jason Todd Anomaly

Chapter 1: A Dumbass Playing Vigilante

Fandom: Jason Todd, Bat Family

Warnings: This involves Gotham so I mean, its a shitshow

Summary: Gotham is in pieces, run in sections by different crime syndicates. Batman is dead and his children are trying to pick up the pieces. The only one of them who has established himself in this new hierarchy is Jason Todd who has a whole section of Gotham run by Red Hood, feared, respected, and loved. He is slowly taking the city back when another vigilante comes to play. Anomaly isn't something new in the realm of pretend heroes but she is something new for Jason.

Notes: Once again I am rising from the dead with another fic about a character who deserves love. I’m going to be using GIFs of Red Hood/Jason Todd from all over the place so sorry if he looks different every time or hell, maybe I’ll just use my fan cast of him (Lewis Tan), ya we’ll go with him for now

Gotham had been languishing in the gutter for years. The Batman had apparently died, or disappeared, either way, he wasn't around anymore and the Robins were just not able to control all the criminals in the city. It had been carved up, leaving only a few blocks around the police headquarters safe, the area protected by the few just officers, led by Commissioner Gordan, and the Robins. Dick was trying to lead the four Batman apprentices, but they were all vastly different people. He was the original, the one who was most like Bruce had been, dead parents and all that, Tim was the optimist, the kindest of them all, Damian was the smart one, all brains and ruthless logic, and Jason was well, Jason. He had his own section of Gotham, next to the safe zone where you could pay his toll and he would keep you safe, him and the small band on goons he had hired to patrol his area. It drove the other Robins crazy but they didn't see many options, they had to work with him and his band of mercenaries to keep safe as many people as they could.

So they put up with it.

And so did everyone in Gotham's Central Safe Zone, including one young woman named Y/N. She put up with it. Put up with the tolls to go from the Safe Zone to the Hood Compound, put up with hiding as much as she could to visit and help those stuck in the criminals sections of the city, put up with everything. But that wasn't going to happen anymore. She was done putting up with everything. She had been training for a few years now, finding all the teachers she could, studying science and strategy as much as she studied weapons and hand to hand combat, doing everything she could to get ready for what she needed to do. Now she was prepared.

She had been following Penguin for days now, watching his movements, tracking shipments into and out of his territory. His territory was right next to the Safe Zone and if she could take him in then they would finally have access to the school and the hotel, offering some accommodations and comfort for the ever increasing population near the police station. So here she was, waiting in the rafters for Penguin and his loyal attendants to appear, face covered by a halloween mask. She watched silently as the SUV drove into the warehouse, meeting the waiting tanker truck carrying gas. The driver stayed in the tanker, not daring to move as the Penguin oversaw his cronies syphoning their share of the gas. He stood on a box, trying to make his stature seem as towering as he imagined himself to be, rubbing his protruding stomach and giggling as his men worked. He sure was excited about this tanker.

Y/N waited for her moment, when the guys had gotten the gas and were carrying it towards the SUV, their hands occupied and unable to quickly get their weapons. She dropped from her hiding spot, landing just behind the goons, unleashing her smoke canisters. While the smoke hid her figure she kicked back, knocking the Penguin off his box, before moving forward and landing a solid right hook into the nose of the nearest henchman. She was moving on to the next one when someone else moved past her, taking down one of the other guys. She frowned and found herself in a headlock from the Penguin himself. She growled as she threw him over her shoulder, hearing him oomph as he landed hard on his back.

"What the fuck!" she said, voice modulator making her voice come out deep, as she was shoved aside by the other guy. Red Hood. He went for Penguin but the slippery bird was being yanked away by his cronies, who now all had their weapons aimed at them. Y/N didn't have bulletproof clothing so she ran and dove behind a stack of boxes as Red Hood used a grappling hook and ascended to the roof, disappearing. Y/N heard the SUV squealing as it drove out of the warehouse and she vowed to find Red Hood and demolish him as soon as she could.

-------

Jason threw his helmet onto the couch as he entered his penthouse, dark hair falling over his dark eyes. He slammed the door, setting the security code and flipping on the cameras. Who the hell was that random idiot trying to play with the Penguin? What were they thinking? He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and drenched his sweating face, shaking his hair out, not caring about the mess he was leaving. A shower, he needed a shower and to call those other assholes, see if they had been having problems with some dumbass playing vigilante.

In the shower Jason considered his options. He would call the other Robins, have them meet him somewhere in his territory, give them a free pass for the day. Even though several criminals were suspicious of who the Robins were it wasn't like they all needed to meet in Red Hood's home base, might as well put a neon sign over his head saying 'Hi I'm Jason Todd and I'm Red Hood'. No, might as well have them meet him at the diner near the border, no one would really care about 4 'friends' getting together, especially considering they were all 'Bruce Wayne's sons'. What a crock of shit. He turned off the water, wrapping a towel around his waist and asking his system to call Dick and the others.

"What is it Jason?" Dick asked, sounding worried. It made sense, Jason never called, something had to be wrong.

"Let's wait til the others answer," he said, sitting on his couch and grabbing his mask. The other two Robins picked up, greeting them with equal amounts of annoyance. Some family, none of them liked each other.

"What do you want?" Damian asked, voice shrill like the snotrag he was.

"Any of you guys have an annoying amateur show up at any of your jobs?" Jason asked, getting right to the point. There was silence on the other end.

"What the fuck are you on about?" Damian asked. Jason gritted his teeth, if only Damian was here so he could put a bullet in his head so he could never hear that voice again.

"I went to steal some gas from Penguin tonight..."

"You know we're supposed to be jailing them not..." Tim started to interject.

"Shut the fuck up and let me talk," Jason snapped. "I was robbing Penguin, but when I arrived someone had already started smoking the place out. I thought it was one of you idiots until I got into the mix. It was some rando, ski mask on, decent skills, but they fucked everything up and Penguin and the gas got away."

"Well I've never had someone else show up on missions before," Dick said. The others agreed.

"Meet tomorrow at the diner on the border of the safe zone, 9AM. We need to talk about this interloper," Jason said.

"We'll see if I'm we're not busy," Damian said. Jason pursed his lips and hung up, no reason for goodbyes and pleasantries. He stood up and brought up security footage of the warehouse, trying to figure out where this girl came from. It would be well into the early morning before he went to bed still trying to figure out who she was.

#Jason Todd #jason todd x plus size reader #jason todd x reader #gotham knights #lewis tan fancast #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x plus size reader #jasontoddanomaly

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pizzaqueen · 2 years

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Would you be willing to report the ficlet? I’m very interested in reading it.

Hi anon! Well, seeing as you want to read it, I will post it again just for you (and thank you btw!) 😄

Oh, and I t’s not a whole ficlet, just the first idk how many words (where Steve and Eddie have been kidnapped by a cult who sacrifices a couple every Halloween but Steve and Eddie aren’t actually together yet—they’re currently tied up against their will so CW for that and don’t keep reading if that kind of situation is upsetting for you) but here you go (and I hope you enjoy it!):

ETA: the whole fic is on AO3 now!!

Steve struggles against the ropes binding his wrists, but it’s no use. They’re too tight. He can’t work them over the joint of his thumb no matter how hard he tries. He sighs, slumping back, swallowing down the panic rising in his throat like bile.

“They’re too tight,” Eddie says from behind Steve, “you’re just going to hurt yourself.” And, even if Steve hadn’t been able to feel Eddie struggle behind him for about ten minutes before he gave up, he’d be able to hear it in his voice.

“I know,” Steve grits out, then softer, “I just…” He swallows again. His arms are trembling and it’s not just from the strain of them being tied behind him for so long. “If I could reach my Swiss army knife—”

“Where is it?”

The hope in Eddie’s voice tangles in Steve’s chest. Especially when he has to say, “My front pocket.”

“Shit.” Eddie shifts his weight and his shoulder pushes into Steve’s.

Any other time, the feeling of Eddie so close would be comforting, or even thrilling if Steve let himself think things like that, but when they’re tied back to back to a supporting beam in some weirdo’s basement? Not so much.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You got a knife or something?” The ache in Steve’s wrists throbs in time with the pounding in his head. He takes deep breaths, hoping it will stop him from puking. “Preferably somewhere you can reach?”

“No, I’m not in the habit of carrying knives.”

“Okay, sorry, I—”

“And if I had one I could reach, don’t you think I’d have used it by now?”

“Okay.” Steve’s throat clicks as he swallows. “I just—”

“I know.” Eddie sighs. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Steve lets his head fall back against the beam behind him. “I mean, none of this is fine but…”

“Yeah.”

Fuck. This was just meant to be a fun weekend away, hanging out with the only guy friend he has who isn’t five years younger than him—even if Steve sometimes wishes they were more than friends—and to get away from Hawkins and all the memories there. It had been Dustin’s idea. He’d said Eddie and Steve both looked like they could use the break and now they’re tied up in a basement. Some R&R, huh?

“I’m going to strangle Henderson the next time I see him.” Not that it’s Dustin’s fault but it keeps Steve’s mind off things, like whatever happens next.

“We probably won’t see him again.”

Steve’s stomach twists. That’s exactly what he’d been trying not to think about. “Can you please not say that?”

“Sorry,” Eddie repeats. The brush of his fingers against Steve’s makes his skin tingle. Or that could be the lack of blood flow to his hands. Either way, it’s a small comfort in what might be the most fucked up situation Steve has ever found himself in and that’s saying something. And then Eddie says, “Wait! The glass!” and Steve startles.

“What glass?”

“That weird piece of glass I picked up earlier. The one you told me not to.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s in my back pocket.”

“Do you think you can reach it?”

There’s movement behind Steve and Eddie grunts in frustration. “No, but… Maybe you can?”

“Uh, yeah, okay.” Steve shuffles around as much as he can while being trussed up, feeling around behind him until his fingers brush what must be Eddie’s belt. “Wait, which pocket?”

“The back one.”

“Yeah, but which side?”

“The left so your…”

“Right.”

Steve huffs and slides his fingers lower, barely feeling the denim with his almost-numb fingers, before they slip into the back pocket. His arm is burning from twisting around; he can feel the glass but he can’t grip it. “I can’t—”

“Here.” The beam creaks as Eddie moves around. “How about now?”

Ignoring that he’s basically touching Eddie’s ass—because, you know, they’re probably going to die and this is a last ditch effort—Steve manages to close his fingers around the smooth piece of glass moments before there’s noise from upstairs.

A voice comes through the closed door: “Why do I always have to check the sacrifices?”

“Did they just say sacrifices?” Eddie whispers.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

#steddie #Steve x eddie #pizzaqueenfic #pizzaqueenanswers #i hate deleting asks so this should stay up this time anxiety be damned!

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nicolabarth · 7 months

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Trick or Treat!

Give me ObiMaul, post-ROTS pleaaasee :D :D

This is mean, because there are so man good fics for this already and the obvious answer would be something along the lines of "Maul moves in with Obi-wan in his desert hideout", but that has been done already and I'm not going to repeat it. I do have a different idea for this stuck in my head for a while, though. So here it is:

When Ezra and the Ghost crew find Maul on Malachor, they also find a weird old Sith artifact. In their fight against the Inquisitors, the artifact gets triggered and binds Maul to Ezra in a way that he has to do what Ezra says. Which means, no double crossing, no attacking Kanan. He becomes a very unwilling and grumpy new member of the crew.

He's still secretly working on the thing with the holocrons and manages to corrupt Ezra a little bit for a while, but in the end, Ezra gets his shit together and Maul is forced to admit what he's looking for: Obi-wan Kenobi.

Ezra is like: "Fuck yeah, let's go find him!" So they do.

Obi-wan has been hiding on Tattooine in the meantime, but the whole thing with Leia and Reva attacking Luke and all that has convinced him that maybe he should train Luke so the boy can defend himself.

So when they find Obi-wan, not only does Maul not attack Obi-wan, because Ezra is all: "Bad Sith! Stand down!" but also Ezra and Luke meet and get a really cute crush on each other.

And Obi-wan is not convinced at first that Maul is harmless, so to prove to him that he is, Ezra transfers the Sith artifact power over Maul to Obi-wan. And Maul is really not sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he's finally not being ordered around by a teenager anymore, on the other hand, he's suddenly at the mercy of his old enemy. Obi-wan is also not sure how to feel about this, because Maul has hurt him a lot in the past, but he's a Jedi, so he doesn't get to hold a grudge, and he can see how much Maul has suffered over the years. Plus, there's a lot of sexual tension between them, because first of all it has always been there, but second of all the power dynamics on top of that trigger some Nightbrother instincts in Maul.

In the end, Obi-wan uses his power over Maul to force him to talk everything out. Then A New Hope happens, but they have Maul, and Luke is already trained in the force and constantly space-texting with Ezra. Obi-wan doesn't die, because Maul goes absolutely feral at Vader when he tries to kill him. In the process, the Sith artifact and Obi-wan's power over Maul are destroyed. Everyone is worried for a second there, but Maul doesn't even seem to notice that anything has changed and keeps following every single order from Obi-wan.

In the end Obi-wan asks Maul if he's aware he doesn't have to do that anymore, and Maul is just like: "I know, but do you want me to stop?"

Obi-wan considers that for a moment. "Actually, no," he says.

"Then better don't expect to get rid of me any time soon."

Send me a Trick or Treat message to get a fic idea as a treat this Halloween

#halloween #obimaul #star wars

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lumineescente · 7 months

Text

Seungjin drabble (slowtober challenge)

hii im doing a thing called slowtober (made by @/oeildesaturne on instagram, french speaking folks check it out!! although be aware of tw mental health and eds talks) and i’m posting on twitter a seungjin au per word

I’m late in the updating on tumblr but for the seventh days (october 19th - 21st) the word was “ghost”

i was extremely tempted to write angst i'm not gonna lie, but i decided not to (because it is seungjin and they deserve all the sweetest thing in the world and no angst unless there is comfort) so i went on the other side of it - no pun intended there - and go for something very fun!

if you know new girl you'll recognize my inspiration btw

this is just a silly love confession gone wrong, haunted house funfair are involved and accidental hitting too!

oh btw when i'm done with this challenge i'll hold a little poll on twitter to see which drabble should be written as a whole fic!! so if you like it, you might want to follow this:) (or not) (like it's up to you)

and i keep forgetting to thanks everyone for their time hehe<3 i appreciate every likes!

AND if you enjoyed this challenge who is now over you can vote on this form for your favorite that I’ll be writing into a full fic on ao3! (“soumettre” is “submit” btw)

if you want to check all the drabbles you can go here

In Hyunjin’s opinion the funfair is more lame than fun, but he is here for Seungmin and it goes way above and beyond any lame thing he can attend. Even if it means ruining his Halloween night, and bringing all his friends into his doom, because Seungmin got this stupid job in a haunted house. The overwhelming romantic feelings, and painfully one sided, he has for his best friend of several years has obviously nothing to do with these kind of decision. Never. No matter what Minho would say about it. Or Felix, or Jisung.

Anyway, he twitches in his halloween costume. Way before this whole situation happened, Hyunjin had decided to make his costume a bit funnier than usual, when they were supposed to celebrate it in the warmth of a house, and had picked a slutty nurse costume. Except now the skirt is definitely way too short for his liking, showing too much of his legs and the autumn night has no mercy on his skin. He could have changed when he had known the plan would, but Hyunjin is terribly stubborn.

Parents of young children are looking at him with horrified eyes, he stands a bit taller in his costume. Although he is not sure if it is the slutty or the skirt part that horrifies them, he can bet that they would have been less upset about it if he had been dressed as a man. Fuck them.

“You look very sexy,” he hears Seungmin’s voice say to him.

“I’m also very cold,” he answers.

Seungmin sits down in front of him. Hyunjin is holding on to a cup of hot beverage like his life depends on it, maybe it does though. Seungmin is dressed as a ghost, well not like the easy kind, with just a white sheet or anything. For such a little funfair and a haunted house that is so tacky Minho has already told them he had went two times and had not been scared once, the make up artists and costumers are very good.

Hyunjin is a scaredy cat, he would rather die than enter the haunted house, it can be as predictable as possible he knows he will end up on the floor crying, so he would rather wait outside for Seungmin to be done.

“I have a coat that I don’t use,” Seungmin tells him, “does not suit the vibe very much, plus it’s hot in the house.”

Hyunjin shakes his head.

“Then die in the cold,” his best friend flatly says.

“Hey! Being sexy comes with a price.”

“You’d be sexy fully covered or dressed as a pumpkin, what you wear does not matter.”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, “sexy pumpkin? Is that your thing?”

Seungmin blushes. Hyunjin can not see it under his make up but he knows him well enough to guess it. He feels proud of himself for that, if he can not do anything about his one-sided attraction at least he knows him better than anyone else, and knows exactly what to say at what time. So there is that.

“That’s not…” Seungmin stutters, “don’t be stupid! I’m just complimenting you.”

Hyunjin blinks several time, registering exactly what all of this meant. It is not unusual for Seungmin and him to compliment each other, even on their apparences. Well Hyunjin could never spend a day without telling Seungmin how handsome he looks (he makes sure not to make him uncomfortable of course), but there is something different in the tone of his voice. An embarrassment, or maybe it is the term that he has used. Hyunjin’s not sure.

“You think I’m sexy,” he says, “all the time.”

“Yeah, of course. You are so attractive it’s stupid, not that it’s the only thing that I like about you.”

Maybe the cold has frozen all his braincells, maybe but he does not react at all and Seungmin looks away.

“Sorry, forget about it,” he mutters, “I gotta go back to work, break is over.”

Hyunjin opens his mouth but nothing comes out and before he can do anything else Seungmin is gone. He stays still for a moment, trying to process what he has just heard.

“Hey,” Felix says.

His costume is way too complicated for the place they are, a cosplay from some video game he enjoys so much, and he struggles to sit down on the spot Seungmin has just left. He moves his hand in front of Hyunjin’s eyes when he has no answer, “Earth to Hyunjin?” he adds.

“Felix,” Hyunjin says in a very low voice that startles the latter, “is it possible that… maybe, Seungmin likes me?”

Felix’s hat almost drops off his head as he lets out the longest and deepest sigh he has ever had, “woh, the question is more is it possible that Seungmin does not like you? And the answer is no, by the way.”

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin asks, confused, “what do you mean?”

“Well I’m sorry to break it to you but you know every time you came to me crying because of your one sided feelings for Seungmin? They never were one sided.”

“Why didn’t you tell me??”

Hyunjin stands up, suddenly getting the control of his body back. The beverage falls down on the table spilling hot chocolate everywhere but he does not care.

“Hey! I tried! Don’t blame the messenger, you both are so oblivious it’s stupid and also kind of entertaining.”

“Fuck,” Hyunjin mutters already not listening to whatever Felix is saying, “I’ll be back.”

Without thinking he starts running toward the hunting house. There’s no need for a ticket since they paid to enter the place in the first place. He probably scares a bunch of kids and outraged some more parents but if he starts to think he will back down and he can not because Seungmin now is probably thinking that Hyunjin rejected him or something.

He regrets it immediately when he enters the house and the lights are shut down and the floor is cracking under his feet and he hears laughter in the echo, and screaming. His blood turns cold in his veins, he makes one step forward but something sticky touches him on the shoulder and he screams, painfully aware at how much skin is out to be touched. He wants to cry.

He is a man on a mission, so he does not and goes on, yelling for Seungmin’s name a bit louder every time something scares him (every two seconds).

Weird things are touching him, the floor is either too viscous or too thin, moving or painfully still, he tries not to lose his balance as fear entirely flood his brain. The noises are too loud between the children screaming in fear and the scary music and sounds everywhere. In theory he knows every trap he encounters are made up but it still works every time.

He enters a new room and feel a hand catching his shoulder and he does not think as he screams and pushes back. He hears a loud noise that has nothing to do with the haunted house, and a bunch of curses, and suddenly two people catch him and hold him on the ground. He tries to fight back but their hold is too strong. The lights are blueish in the room and his eyes have finally being used to the obscurity.

“Seungmin, are you okay?” someone says panic in their voice.

Hyunjin’s brain focuses back. In the side of the room he sees a silhouette getting up from the floor, helped by another one.

“Yeah, I’m fine I just hit my head on the side.”

“Oh my god,” he stutters, “I’m so sorry.”

The two people over him hold even tighter, he let out a scream of pain.

“Seungmin, it’s me,” he mutters, “fuck, I’m so sorry I just got scared!”

“Hyunjin?!”

He sighs as he recognize Seungmin’s voice.

“It’s me, are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

“You can let him go,” Seungmin tells the two persons.

They seem unwilling to agree to that.

“Please,” Hyunjin whimpers, overwhelmed by the entire situation and the fact that he still is terrified by the whole haunted house. “I’m really sorry.”

Eventually they do and Seugmin goes to his side, “why are you here? Hyunjin this is so…”

“I like you! Like more than a friend.”

He hates himself this is the worst way to confess to his long time crush. After hurting him and in the middle of a haunted house, in front of obviously very judgmental people right now. He can not blame them for that. Seungmin stares in disbelief.

“Is this why you pushed me?”

“No! This is because I was scared, I’m still very scared.”

Seungmin shakes his head but he faintly hears him laugh.

“Okay, I’m going to take a break and get checked by a doctor, okay?”

Everyone agrees to that. He then stares once again at Hyunjin who is still lying down on the floor.

“I’m wondering if you deserve to finish the haunted tour by yourself or…”

“I’m really sorry,” he repeats.

Seungmin extends a hand that he grabs and gets up.

“Fine,” he tells him, “but that’s because I like you like more than a friend too.”

The sparkles that Hyunjin feels in his heart manage to make the scary atmosphere fade away. Seungmin still holds his hand and he feels warm. He gets closer to him. Maybe the funfair is not that lame.

#my writing #seungjin #drabble #slowtober challenge #word;ghost #hwang hyunjin #kim seungmin #skz drabble #stray kids drabble #hwangseung #luminee:slowtober challenge

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myheadsgonenumb · 10 months

Text

thanks for the tag @amethystheart2421

A stupid fact about me is that I don't name my WIPS so it's going to take me far longer than it should to search through years worth of all my "Untitled Documents" until I hit a fic I want to use.

Hand - Dark Things Are to be Loved in Secret

Sirius squeezed his hand - and inhaled sharply. If he hadn’t asked Remus to run away with him, then this wouldn’t be happening to him. Remus would not be being exposed this way. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘It sorta is.’

‘No - this is Peter’s fault. I could be either back home with Peter, not knowing what he had done and keeping my furry, little problem a secret - or I could be here … with you.’

There was a tense moment, where they both suddenly seemed to become aware they were holding hands.

‘And … would you rather be here - with me?’

‘Yes.’

They didn’t drop hands - instead, they just squeezed tighter.

...

But the WWN was not finished with its programming yet. Peter was still talking:

‘Although I have the greatest respect for Albus Dumbledore - I worked tirelessly underneath him to help bring down You Know Who - I have to say I believe he made a grave judgement in error when he allowed Lupin to join Hogwarts, as a boy. Of course, he put all manner of protections in place - a hidden bolthole for Lupin to transform in, guarded in such a way that no one could happen across him by mistake. But Black was always capable of great charm - and had an affinity for dark creatures. And Lupin belonged to him in a way I never quite fully understood.’

...

Both men dropped hands at the same moment - and avoided each other’s eyes.

Smoke - The Wolf's Tail

The muggle world was full of poverty and want and people scraping by. And it seemed to have got worse every time she returned to it. Mothers were anxious, fathers were angry, children cried and teenagers hung about on street corners, glowering. No one had enough. Her mum had to count out every penny just to buy a pint of milk or loaf of bread. And if Lily wanted these cigarettes …. She was going to have to steal them.

Her heart beat a little faster - and she glanced around herself again, checking no one was watching. Mary would just steal them. She’d just slip them in her pocket, smile at the shopkeeper and walk out. But Lily found she didn’t quite have the nerve. When it was said Gryffindors were brave and bold, she had the feeling that having the guts to shoplift was not what people had in mind.

But she wanted the cigarettes.

This was what she could do to show how grown up and mature she was. This was how she could make herself look sophisticated. She closed her eyes and imagined herself elegantly drawing on a cigarette, her lipstick staining the tip like a kiss … and her breathing a long stream of wispy smoke into the air - right past Bobby Darrow … and he would turn - and he would see her and …

She didn’t want the cigarettes. She needed them. She turned them over in her hand. Her pulse was racing in her throat and at her wrist and - rather annoyingly - in her left eyelid. She could do this - just pop them in her pocket - she could do this - she could do this … she could …

Forget - Letters to No One

For it is, of course, twenty years ago today that we rode the Hogwarts Express for the first time. I remember getting in the same little boat to cross the lake with you and James - and how you kept splashing each other - and me! And making the boat rock. How I hated you both! (Although it was only four days away from the full moon, if I remember correctly. I was not at my most patient. You know how I get).

How I had no idea then what it was the two of you would come to mean to me. My first friends - who loved and accepted me even when you found out what I was. I never thought I could have that. To this day, I am grateful that I experienced it - even if it all ended in such terrible tragedy. To have been loved is everything - and I will never forget that I was.

This Halloween it will be ten years since it all fell apart. Since I lost everything that mattered and my life shattered around me. Ten years on, I have picked up the pieces. Of course something fragmented can never be truly whole again - and I am more lonely then perhaps I once hoped I would turn out to be. But my life is by no means unbearable - it is certainly better than my worst fears of what it could be.

Laughed - Dark Things Are to be Loved in Secret

‘I made a mistake about Remus,’ Sirius said, through gritted teeth. He did not bother to correct her on using Remus’ name - he knew he would get nowhere. He could not shame her with her own bigotry as he had Crouch. ‘I realised that, when I stood in the ruins of my friends’ home. I knew if I left without him, he would believe Dumbledore. He would grieve alongside … this.’ He shot a disgusted look at Peter, who was still weeping. ‘I couldn’t let that happen. I needed him to know the truth.’

Umbridge’s smile was wide in her froggy face. ‘You were happy for Dumbledore to tell the world that you were the spy, but not this one … well, man, as you will no doubt try and claim it is.’

‘I could bear everybody’s hatred but Remus’s.’

‘Oh how touching.’ She laughed again. ‘Why should we believe that?’

‘Because it’s true. Because I love him.’ He felt his face grow warm as he said that.

‘You “love” him. This animal. That you thought was the spy. You want us to believe you love him?’

‘I do,’ his voice burst out in an angry yell - and he stared daggers at the hideous woman. ‘It hurt more than I could bear to cut him from my heart, when I thought he was working for Voldemort - and even in that house of death, it brought indescribable joy when I knew I could love him again. I went to him because I love him. He ran away with me because he loves me. And there was nothing more sinister or complicated to it than that. We are in love.’

Soft - It Wouldn't Be an Adventure Without You

‘I’m not leaving! Not ever!’ Remus stared at him, thunderstruck. ‘Sirius, I spent 13 years all alone because I loved you and you were in Azkaban and I never got to a point where I was ready to move on. I never moved on from you. Now I have you back - you think I’m going to leave because you’ve gone quiet? You always used to go quiet and sulk, when we were young - I’m used to it. You are a sulker, Sirius Black - you always have been. And I’m a worrier. It is what it is. But I don’t want you to feel better because I’m bored of you being miserable. It isn’t about me. I want you to feel better so that you feel better. I want you to be happy. That’s all that matters.’

‘What if I’m never happy?’

‘I will never stop trying to make you so.’

‘You really think you can put up with me, like this, forever?’

‘Sirius, I have been putting up with you since I was eleven. You have always been infuriating and ridiculous and prone to sulking and just going off the deep end and going mental. I have always put up with you. I will always put up with you. I love putting up with you.’

It was just for a moment - but there was a ghost of a smile on Sirius’ face. ‘That’s probably just part of your angsting about being a werewolf - you think you don’t deserve any better than someone who is as difficult as me.’

‘It probably is. I don’t deserve nice things. I got you - and I’m a glutton for punishment, I like having you.’

The smile came back - and stayed for slightly longer this time. Remus smiled back at him … soft and encouraging, hoping to keep the moment going.

There was a sudden rustle in the underbrush. ‘What was that?’ Sirius asked sharply, his head turning to look.

‘Heinz said there were creatures in the forest. Hopefully that was just an animal but … maybe we should get moving again.’

OK - new words: glass, ran, music, water and thought

open tag for anyone who sees this and wants to share their work 😃

#tag game #marauders fanfiction #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans

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