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aenariasbookshelf · 1 year

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Title: you say you want (me) (part four of ?)

Author: Aenaria

Weekly Prompt for the @darcylewisbingohq : freckles

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers

Rating: G

Tags/Warnings: soulmates AU

Summary: In a world where having a soulmate mark is the norm for most people, Darcy Lewis is one of the rare few unmarked people. Of course, this doesn’t stop her from finding the right partner.

Previous parts can be found here (though you don’t need to read it to understand this): https://www.tumblr.com/aenariasbookshelf/716053657766002689

(Apologies for any formatting gaffes-I’m posting from my iPad due to a MUCH needed vacation)

Every soulmark is entirely unique and private, Darcy knows. It’s how soulmates can recognize each other, even if what that relationship is isn’t fully formed at that time.

Though, to be fair, Darcy hasn’t paid too much attention to all the finer details of soulmarks over her life. As one of the rare unmarked population, she’s tried to stay away from the complexities of having a soulmark. Fear of wanting something she’d never have? Maybe, but it also feels like a “why bother paying attention to something that will never affect me” sort of a moment.

Steve’s soulmark is fascinating to her though, Darcy will admit. It’s an angular and sculptural mark that’s settled on his ribcage, nestled among the pale, freckled skin and muscles that she’s lucky enough to get to see in those private moments when it’s just the two of them. She traces her fingers over the lines as he sleeps soundly in her bed, a small comfort that tells her he’s home and safe from this latest mission.

It’s not her mark, but it’s something precious to Steve, a sign of the best friend he’s ever had in his life, and that makes it something Darcy loves about him. She hasn’t seen Bucky’s mark yet, but she imagines it’s a mirror image of the one Steve has.

Admittedly, it does bring to mind those silly, made for TV movies where the heroine’s former partner, the unmarked one she’d settled for until she has a meet cute with her soulmate, gets irrationally jealous and left in the dust because the heroine is convinced that the marked person she’s known for all of three days will be her perfect romantic match. Darcy’s not generally a jealous person, but also, she’s not that silly brained. She understands friendship and how important those people are to anyone’s life too. Hell, Jane is absolutely her own platonic soul sister, marks be damned.

And Steve absolutely and entirely holds her heart in his hands.

Darcy is surprisingly all right with this.

Steve shifts in his sleep, mutters something unintelligible under his breath, but then settles back into the pillows with a heavy sigh. Darcy just smiles to herself, rests her hand over his soulmark, and places a soft kiss on another patch of the light freckles that decorate his bare shoulder.

Still deeply asleep, Steve grabs her hand that covers his soulmark and tangles his fingers with hers, pulling it closer to his heart.

#darcy lewis #steve rogers #darcy x steve #shieldshock #fic #my fic #mcu #soulmate AU #ongoing story

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bethany-sensei · 7 months

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I don’t know much about Storyteller Saturday but I’m taking the opportunity to point out that I just updated The Sword of Heaven, in which two demons and a renegade angel go to Heaven to rescue someone they may not even like.

*note: for those of you who remember Raaqiel from the last time I updated Outside In (what was that, six years ago??), he’s present and all grown up in this story

#storyteller saturday #somebody tell me the rules #writeblr #ongoing story

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tiamat-zx · 7 months

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha Characters: Yasha (Critical Role), Beauregard Lionett Additional Tags: Whumptober 2023, Day 1, Swooning, Post-Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Pre-Episodes: The Mighty Nein Reunited Parts 1-2 (Critical Role), Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Not Beta Read, Rating May Change Series: Part 1 of Whumptober 2023 Collection Summary:

Yasha doesn’t have the best of trips back home, having to deal with some unfortunate truths and unexpected comeuppance.

New chapters on select days this month.

—

It’s that time of the year again! @whumptober 2023.

Starting this off with the intro chapter of a longer story. Kinda know where I want to end it, but otherwise I’m just gonna wing it, like many authors do lol

—

Day 1: Swooning

Yasha finally makes it back home, albeit she’s been left a broken mess.

#whumptober2023 #No.1 #swooning #Critical Role #fic #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #cracklepop #ongoing story #will update over the course of the month

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the-fbi-waco-team · 8 months

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Look! A wild Murder Drones fanfiction has appeared!

#murder drones #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #ongoing story

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sunangelstears · 1 year

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🎶 Sing For Me 🎶

Toge Inumaki × Fem Reader

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●Soulmate AU - both y/n and Toge have the first words thwy will say to each other tattooed on their wrists .

"Salmon and Tuna "------->your wrist

"It's happy ever after " --------> Toge's wrist

____________________________💜____________________________

Y/n L/n Yaga , a second year sorcerer at Tokyo's Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical Highschool . An outstanding student with a cursed technique call Cursed Drawings^tm^ and her families' well known Sombre Technique .

●Your Sombre Technique allows you to use cursed energy and attack your opponents directly . It also allows you to use any high ranking cursed technique even if it's not in your bloodline . However all previous users of this technique died by the misuse of the technique or by accumulation of too much cursed energy in the body .

You , however , were an exception as your father was the part of the Kamo clans head branch and the younger brother of the father of Noritoshi Kamo , who in actualiy was your cousin . Your mother , on theother hand , was a 1st grade Jujutsu sorcerer ....M/n (mothers name ) L/n Yaga . She is also the younger sister of Masamichi Yaga .

●Your cursed technique : Cursed drawings

Allows you to channel your cursed energy into your drawings therefore bringing them to life .

( similar to Sai's super Beast Scroll in Naruto Shippuden )

●●●○A/n - I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE JUJUTSU KAISEN CHARACTERS .

○I DO , HOWEVER OWN THE FANART AND THE READERS CURSED TECHNIQUES .

Rebloggs are greatly appreciated ....~sunangelstears~ 💜

____________________________💜____________________________

PART 1

Everyday since you turned 13 , you looked at those two words tattooed on not only your skin but on tour soul too .

"Salmon and tuna" .....

How ridiculous you always seemed to think , until your family decied to place you in the care of a family friend and your uncle , he wa like a father to you, since yours died fighting an unregistered special grde cursed spirit 5 yers ago . Masamichi Yaga . They insisted you stay with him as you wanted to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer.

The day you were introduced ro the second years , your heart skipped a beat seemingly an impulse as a white haired boy with amethyst purple eyes walked your way , smiling as a simple "Salmon and Tuna " escaped his lips . Asking if tje movie the others were talking about had a happy ending . You clutched your left hand tightly as you responded , " Its happy ever after ."

It was currently a month befoe white day andmost ofthe boys were estatic .

" YEYYYYYYYYY Y/NNNNNN !!! " ,squealed an excited Yuji . " Yeyy Yuji , Sukuna's mouth.....hehe " ,the girl giggled eyeing thd mouth and singular red eye on the side of the salmon haired boy's face . The eye blinked and anger showed in them, " SHUT UP BRAT ! " , rhe curse roared

" Ooooo testy ! Sorry grandpa ! " ,the girl retorted while speaking to to the two , little did she know that a certain boy was eyeing her .

" YEYYYY KIDS ! I'VE GOT MISSIONS FOR YOUUUU ~ DO YPUR BEST OR I'LL KILL YA~ " , squealed a Gojo .

How encouraging am I right ?

A few hours passed since then and you and Toge were currently back from the mission that Gojo had sent you on .

While walking into a nearby café Y/n tugged at and tightened the bandages that covered her hands up from her elbows, down to her wrists . Complaining about how tired she was , she hadn't realised the curiosity that had been peaked in Toge upon seeing that you always cover your hands . Thinking maybe you were hurt or something .

You both finally found an empty table and sat down . Examining the menue , a waitress soon came up to you , " Hi miss , may I take your order ? " , she asked with a smile . " Oh , Hi , yes wwe will both take the Caramel and Hazel nut Mocchiato please " , you returned her polite smile with one of your own . She looked at you for confirmation and smiled , "Right away miss . "

You gave her one more polite smile as the waitress whoses name you believed to be Aimi Kuroshi . You and Toge knew almost all the satff members of Café Sakura .

While you sat across from Toge humming a tune to the song that was playing in your headset a few moments before you began your mission .

He tapped your hand from across the table .

" Mhmmmm " , tou replied smiling softly , your gaze landing on his pristine purple orbs .

"Tuna tuna ? ", he looked at you, fingers tapping at your bandaged wrist .

" Oh I've never told ypu have I ? ", the girl spoke ,thwe smallest of smiles playing on her liosas he shook his head ro indicate a ' no '

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>>>> 3 Weeks Pass >>>>

You , Nobara , Maki , Megumi , Yuji , Panda , Yuta and Toge were at an amusement park. ..not for games but as sorcerers . People were reportedly going missing and you lot were sentwith the first years to investigate .

You had split up into teams of two :

●Maki and Megumi ●Nobara and Panda ●Yuji and Yuta , and ●You and Toge

Ning left , rightand straight ; jumping from this staircase to the floor , actively using curse techniques and Toge almost destroying his throat unril you and your twin dragons of water and fire stepped in to defeat tje two grade 3 curses infront of you . But something told you that the others would have theor hands full as well , however your orders were to return to campus once your part of the mission was completed . And completed it was .

While walking back , satisfied with yourself you decided to not to waste this chance but rather enjoy it . You and Toge were running around going on the various rides , squealing like little kids , until toge pointed to a little purple tent only a shade darker than his eyes .

' Fortune Teller '

" Mhmmmmm....Toge - " , you turned around ro meet the males pair of glossy purple eyes .

" Okay ! We'll try it if you want . " , the h/c girl let out a little laugh . That laugh....he could listen to it for hours , it had a way of making all his fears and anxieties simply melt into nothingness . Y/n had decided to try itnot only because she was curious about her future but because she needed ro know if she was triely indeedfallin inlove with the white haired boy standing next to her , as Maki so joyfully proclaimed time and time again .

____________________________💜____________________________

You and Toge sat down as the lady looked intoher crystal ball for a few minutes before speaking .....

"Someone close to you will have alot of mixed feelings . These feelings are reciprocated indeed . You two children ..... a home will be found in each other .Two kindred souls that are truely meant to be " .

Y/n and Toge looked at each other in confusion as they walked out of the tent .

" Well ....that was weird ....not that I expected much though ." , y/n spoke as she and her companion walked toward the exit of the smusement park ......clearly knowing what the lady meant by all the things she said she had ' seen ' . "Bonito flakes " , he replied , almost like a ' damn straight ' in his own words .

Now walking away from the amusement park Y/n and Toge realised how tired they were . There was no sight of the others , now assuming that they all left and had gone home . " Salmon ...Prawn Rao " , spoke Toge making a call sign . " Yeah you're right . " , tou spike as you pulled your phone out from your pocket texting your friends .

Yeyyyyyy guys , just letting you know that Toge and I are headed back . Will see you later ~ y/n

Putting her phone away she and Toge began walking to the train staion thankfully it wasn't very far ....ready to get back home and sleep .

>>>> An hour passed >>>>>>>

After an hour of standing in an overly crowded train , seats were finally free and the two of you wasted no time in grabbing the two seats closest to you . Plopping down as you both huffed out a tired sigh .

#kazukazuhas #sunangelstears #decaffeinatedcloudkryptonite #Shaantiofher #Catalyticy #writing #JJK #jujutsu kaisen #jjk oneshot #inumaki toge #toge x reader #toge jjk #Toge fluff #soulmarks #PART 1 #ongoing story

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vermilion-feather-falcon · 1 year

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Hey everyone I just want try to post this fanfic I’ve made. I wanted to try learning to promote it and this was one idea I had. Not sure how well it will work.

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mzshko · 2 years

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Galladrabbles Master Post

Hey, for an easier read, I've decided to create a master post of my ongoing plane wreck Galladrabble story, an AU written 100 words at a time. Prompt words are highlighted. Thanks and enjoy! 🛩🔥

FLIGHT RISK

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Ian finds himself flat on his back with a dark-haired madman straddling his rib cage, forearm pressed threateningly to his throat. “I said, who the fuck are you?” he growls, voice low and demanding, and Ian breathes in the strong scent of burning fruit trees caught in wildfire smoke, fragrant and acrid all at once.

He blinks up at his assailant and then in one swift move, flips him over while yanking on his arm until it’s pulled sharply behind his back. “I already told you, asshole, I survived a plane crash. Better question is, who the fuck are you?”

_________________________

Ian sleeps in the fuselage. He rations snacks salvaged from the aircraft’s wreckage and collects driftwood and flinty stones so he can try building an S.O.S. fire.

The solitude lasts a week, then two. He stares at a random paperback without really reading it and there were only so many times he could browse the SkyMall brochures. Seeking out the dark-haired stranger seemed inevitable. That or risk death, whether from starvation or exposure, or hell at this rate, even boredom. The question is, what’s harder to cultivate—a tenuous alliance with a madman or a harsh and unforgiving new world?

_________________________

While cutting through the overgrown brush one afternoon, Ian stumbles over a beehive. In short order, his hand swells to about twice its size.

Left with no choice but to return to his modest shelter, he’s astonished to find a care package of foraged foods and essential supplies waiting for him there. Fresh water and bits of fish like dry salt cod and gauze soaked with the pulp of leaves and shoots that, it turns out, have a pain-relieving effect when applied as a poultice. It makes him think he can survive out here—at least for a while.

_________________________

It’s been days, but Ian’s hunt for the mystery man comes up empty. The supply drops keep coming though. Randomly, when he’s asleep or out scavenging, which unnerves and excites him to no end.

Finally, he spots it. A small wooden shack shingled with fronds, and out front, the dying embers of an open fire. The dark-haired man can’t be far and so Ian crouches closer, twigs breaking underfoot, and then, suddenly, he’s on the ground. “Sonovabitch,” he mutters aloud to nobody, realizing he’d been taken down by a snare trap that some fucker must’ve hidden in the tall grass.

_________________________

Ian lies on the ground until sunrise. Eventually, the grass rustles and a figure looms above him, casting him in shadow.

The stranger looks down tauntingly at Ian, who despite struggling to free himself, remains on his back, immobile.

“So… ya gonna tell me who sent you?” He sits, opens a can of tomato juice along with a minibar vodka, and sips from each.

Staring into his eyes with fresh anger, Ian hisses. “Those from my fuckin’ beverage cart?”

“Think you mean my beverage cart, Red. Ain’t a thing on this land, native or otherwise, that don’t belong to me.”

_________________________

“You gonna lemme go?” Ian sighs and thumps his head against the ground, while the other man glares at him.

“I would, but see, your story doesn’t check out,” he responds calmly, clutching a crumpled paper in his hand. “Nobody named Gallagher was aboard that flight. Nobody with your birthdate either.”

Realizing the man’s gotten hold of the plane’s manifest, Ian shuts his eyes awhile. “That’s ’cause I stowed away,” he finally relents. “Was in a world of shit back home and just… needed to disappear.”

The man scratches his eyebrow and grins lopsidedly at him, debating his next move.

_________________________

Other than his name, Ian’s unable to get much outta him. That, and that he’s been surviving the remote wilderness alone for a while.

He’s learned numerous skills, he says, the forced isolation leaving him with nothing but time. How to start fires, hunt and forage. Navigate by reading stars. Whatever it takes. Whatever’s been essential. One afternoon, he guides Ian to a wooded creek, the view something out of a nature magazine.

“Mickey?”

Ian watches, wide-eyed, as he jumps in, gentle waves creating a frothy trail around his nude body.

Mickey looks back at him. “Sup, Gallagher? Ya comin’?”

__________________________

“And if I say no?”

“Then you stay dry,” Mickey answers him matter-of-factly.

He rises from the water to grab the campfire soap it’d taken him weeks to mill from clay and seed oils. Ian averts his eyes while Mickey scrubs himself down.

“Tell me about yourself,” Ian says, but the request is met with little more than a snicker.

Soon enough, Mickey ends the impromptu soak and reaches for his clothing. Drapes it right on so that everything clings damply to his pink-flushed skin.

“C’mon,” he tips his head in the direction they’d come from. “It’ll be dark soon.”

________________________

A cold snap hits. For days, winds gust continuously—the hammering against the plane’s cabin windows so loud, it keeps Ian up at night.

Not that he can sleep anyway. Not with Mickey, alone in the dense woodlands, sheltered in a hut that couldn’t possibly withstand this much punishment. Finally, too restless to do much else, Ian bags every inflight blanket he can find and heads out, only the moon and hazy starlight illuminating his path.

He doesn’t get far, though. “Oh, hey,” Ian shouts to the approaching silhouette struggling against the forceful winds.

Mickey climbs inside, breathless. “Hey, yourself.”

__________________________

“You wanna tell me about your prison ink?” Ian asks, watching as Mickey plops down into one of the plane’s remaining first-class cabin seats.

“Not particularly.”

“How ’bout the D.O.C boxers I know you’re wearing under your clothes.”

Mickey sighs. “Two for two, Gallagher.”

Ian continues to just stand there, all pent-up energy, hands braced on his hips. “I don’t fuck strangers, Mickey. Just sayin’.”

“Ever?”

“Anymore,” he shrugs and catches Mickey’s eye as he almost offers him a smile. “Well, starting now.”

Mickey hums at that and reclines further into the cushions. “Sucks to be me, then. I suppose.”

________________________

“K724423,” Mickey concedes, but doesn’t care to elaborate.

That’s when Ian pries him upright by the collar. “That your prisoner number?”

A shudder runs through him when Mickey reaches beneath his sweater to trace callused fingers over his heated skin. But to Ian, the touch feels like silk.

“I ain’t good people, Gallagher.”

“Everyone’s done shit they’re not proud of,” Ian breathes, adjusting to the sensation.

“Oh. Lemme be clear, then. Got no regrets over what landed me in the clink. Or anything it took to break out, either.” Mickey’s hands are now roaming. “So… we still strangers or what?”

_________________________

Finally, Ian sighs and scratches at his beard. He mumbles, “gonna fuck you,” and the next thing Mickey knows, he’s naked on his back amid broken tray tables and debris brought in by the rainstorm, with Ian, hot and hard, pinning his wrists down.

Growing flushed and sweaty, he eventually feels the slide of spit-slick fingers give way to a burning stretch that steals his breath away. And then Ian’s eyes flutter shut as his mouth falls open in a soundless whimper.

“You’re insane,” Ian grunts afterward and Mickey nods, swallowing dryly.

“Okay, but… what’s a little crazy between friends?”

_________________________

Summer turns to fall and Mickey slowly makes the plane cabin his permanent residence. They live off the season’s bounty: roots, bulbs and fresh wintergreens for brewing tea. After trapping a wild boar, they dry the meat and cure its gray-haired pelt for protection against the rapidly cooling temperatures.

Ending each exhausting day together is like nothing Ian’s ever known. They share a bed, platonically, sexually, every potential meaning of the phrase. It’s idyllic and he wants to bottle up the feeling. Wants to lull himself into believing it can last… but, of course, good things like this seldom do.

_________________________

There’s a ring on Mickey’s finger. Salvaging scraps he’d called it, a euphemism for the grim reality of where it’d come from. Its companion glints in the pale sunlight falling on Ian’s hand.

“You’re sick,” he accuses, rattling prescription pills Ian’d stashed in the plane’s lavatory. “I ain’t blind. You’ve been rationing this shit. Skipping days.”

Ian rolls his eyes and draws a ratty blanket over himself. He hates this. Hates wallowing in the melodramatic self-pity that inevitably follows.

“Just tell me,” Mickey folds his arms and Ian’s overcome by the weight of what he says next. “Are you suffering?”

__________________________

“After my arrest, I faked an injury. Serious enough for a medivac to airlift me out,” Mickey states bluntly. “That shit right there’s what’s left of it.”

Ian looks down from the summit they’d hiked to find mangled remains of a helicopter, sheared branches and overgrown weeds in a tangle. It’s still dark out, the faint morning sounds of the forest drifting up from below.

“That why you brought me here? To show me?” Exhausted from the effort of climbing, he takes an unsteady, tipsy lurch on his feet, but Mickey supports him. Keeps him upright.

“Among other things… yeah.”

___________________________

Mickey directs Ian’s gaze to the horizon where something flickers along the water’s edge.

Ian’s eyes narrow, confusion suddenly setting his mind racing. “That an oil rig?”

“Supply ships come through every four months,” Mickey explains quietly. “Last one docked right before your crash.”

It takes Ian seconds to run the math in his head. Even less for him to realize Mickey’s clutching a flare gun in his hand.

“M’sorry, Gallagher.” Guilt washes over Mickey at seeing the terror in Ian’s face as he begs him to reconsider. He takes aim, resting a finger on the trigger of the gun.

_________________________

A door clicks open and shut. Shadows pass behind a privacy curtain followed by flashes of green scrubs and rubber gloves. Mickey’s breathless, fairly certain he’s imagining things. Though it’s hard to decipher much past the fever dreams making his head spin. His skin burns hot one minute, cold the next. When he jerks a wrist to rub at his temples, it nearly dislocates—given it’s been cuffed to his bed’s handrail.

This shit’s a nightmare. Anywhere without knowledge of Ian’s condition or whereabouts is a fucking nightmare. Mickey realizes that now, seconds before medically induced sleep claims him again.

________________________

“Reintegration sickness,” they keep saying in the infirmary. For months, Mickey’s detained until his release into the general population. That’s when the hazing begins. Dead insects served to him at mealtimes. Robinson Crusoe left in his cell, its pages smeared with excrement. Little do these cocksuckers know Mickey’d once single-handedly taken down a stag, dragged it over a mile, butchered and repurposed every part, including its skull, which he’d used as a makeshift bong. Should he be fucked with anymore, they’d learn eventually. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy. For now, he continues folding sheets in the quiet recesses of the laundry.

________________________

Maker of improvised weapons, overseer of contraband, wielder of loyalties and merch smuggled in from outside—Mickey establishes his dominance, practically with lightning speed. His stronghold on the trade of illicit goods extends to the payment-for-protection racket and much like dominoes, the other inmates fall easily into line. It’s an unspoken rule that most COs will look the other way, as long as no one flaunts what they’re doing.

Which is why a hand on Mickey’s shoulder—while he’s alone, in the dark, fetching more detergent from the laundry’s storeroom—makes him wonder how much its owner values his life.

________________________

A shiv suddenly appears in Mickey’s hand, its sharpened tip smeared with crushed red clover leaves to maximize damage. There’s a panicked frenzy of limbs, each man snarling viciously while defending his circle of reach. The tussle ends in the weapon’s knifepoint shoved against the throat of the other man, who’s now backed into a corner, hands up in surrender. Slowly, Mickey moves toward the lightswitch and flicks it on.

“Never told you why I stowed away on that plane, Mick.” It’s the first thing either of them says in what feels like minutes but could easily be an hour.

________________________

“There was this… facility. A camp where they ‘cure’ our kind, ya know? Anyway, I was outta my mind. Did something I shouldn’t’ve. Been on the run ever since.”

At war with himself, Mickey feels his knees start to buckle. He presses a hand to the wall as a lightbulb flickers overhead, exacerbating what he suspects is the beginnings of a panic attack.

“Didn’t act alone, though,” he continues. “Turned myself in, gave up some names. In exchange…” he gestures vaguely at their surroundings, and Mickey gets the implication. He’d chosen this. Chosen confinement with Mickey over his own freedom.

________________________

“Why?” is all Mickey manages to get out, a brittle sound that reverberates in the storeroom’s dilapidated interior. He swallows hard, doing his best to maintain an outward calm that doesn’t at all match his inner turmoil.

Ian cracks a faint smile and slowly shakes his head. Hands still raised, he waits patiently until Mickey’s pride breaks a little. Until he’s gazing back at him with a look that’s caught somewhere between riotous disbelief and pure affection—gut-wrenching and personal and real.

“Got nowhere to be that isn’t with you, Mick,” he says, to which Mickey finally drops his weapon.

#galladrabbles master post #galladrabbles #ongoing story #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fic #100 words at a time

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msitp · 9 months

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Chapter 4: In the Middle of Night

Unsure of where I stand currently, I quietly follow behind the bandit shorty. I don’t even see the point of asking his name; him giving a truthful answer seems unlikely. I can’t help tugging at my hair as I say my goodbyes to it as we walk. I don’t recall hair magic being often mentioned in the original story, but perhaps I just hadn’t gotten to it yet. Before I was thrown into this world head first. Practical wise it could just be sold to an artisan to do with what they like. Or this guy just has some sort of link to a hair fetish community; can’t help cringing at the thought of that. Staring at the back of his head where his own hair is messily tied back. It might need a comb but his hair is thick and wavy, it seems much nicer than mine.

As if feeling my eyes, he spares a glace back at me. “Whatever your scheming, can you stop before you stare right through me.”

I widen my stride to catch up to him, “What do you mean schemes?! I’m the one who was robbed and stranded thanks to you.”

“pft- Acting as if your so helpless. I’m still not buying’ it, or should I not count the wounds from that damn bird and you”. He lifts his crudely wrapped arm, practically shoving it in my face.

I can feel my face twitch as before I know it, we’ve begun bickering back and forth. Fighting proving a way to pass the time. The once quiet trek now noisy as we throw accusations back and forth until the sun begins to fall. I expect the bandit to stop but he pushes on, as it gets darker, I begin stumbling more unable to see the forest floor clearly now. I half expect this to be apart of some trick until a sudden flooding of purple light surround us. The dagger in his hand is the source of the light; he offers his other hand to help me up. I have no choice but to stick closer to him, often still catching my self on his shoulder when the roots of the trees trip me. The faint glow from the dagger helps but not enough to make travelling in the dark a real option. I begin to slow down feeling the deep need to quit moving and rest. His rough hand grabs my wrist and he stubbornly drags me further. It pisses me off but I’m getting too tired to care.

The moon comes into view as we come to a break in the trees, a small hut sits in the clearing just visible with the moonlight. A tired grunt of relief comes from him as he pulls me into the hut before finally letting me go. I sit down where I stand, while he uses the dagger’s glow to search for a proper lantern to light. The warm golden glow of a fire light stretches across me as he lights a fire pit in the center of the room. The hut proves bigger than I could tell in the dark, a neat fire place at its center. A hole in the top peak of the ceiling lets the rising smoke out as the fire begins warming the room. I still can’t quiet find the energy to move from my spot by the doorway. Perhaps I’ll find the will to crawl a bit closer to the fire and warm up, but my eyes feel heavy. A smack to my right shoulder only barley keeps me from falling asleep. I hear an annoying voice go from mocking to worried, followed by a sudden sense of weightlessness. When my head hits something incredibly soft everything fades to black.

The smell of something cooking rouses me from my deep sleep, a stinging ache follows not long after from my right shoulder. I bury my face further into the furs I’m lying in as I open my eyes, I shift in the fur cocoon I seem to be wrapped in. Trying to move my right arm shoots pain down my back, I let out a few curses looking around to place my pains blame on someone. Looking guilty the bandit stirs a pot that’s been placed over the fire. When my cursing subsides, he finally glances at me.

Casting his eyes back when our eyes meet. “I’d favour that side a bit, I had to stich you’ a few times. The pots nearly done cooking; I’ll help you up so you can have a bite.”

I’m somewhat taken aback by the sudden U-turn in treatment. He was the whole reason I’d ended up walking half a day through a un traveled forest. Why the sudden guilt now? Unsure of how much I could trust him I carefully sat up on my own, winching a few times when I moved wrong. My shirts are gone; I throw a suspicious glance in the bandit’s general direction. Then try to get a look at my shoulder, which had been covered in wrapping.

“Can’t listen to me for even a moment- Fine I get it, that’s fair. Don’t remove the bandages, the herbs I had to use on you aren’t easy to- “, he seems to stop himself glancing my way again.

If the pain in my shoulder and my tired legs didn’t leave me feeling so drained despite just waking up, I’d nearly want to laugh. This cocky bandit was channeling a puppy who’d just destroyed the couch. Though the couch in this case was my back, the very back I realised, that I’d thrown in front of a dagger. Ah, that’s why. If it hadn’t been due to his dagger, I’m sure he would have tried charging me for his nursing services. My throat feels dry as I try to speak, the guilty party scoops out a bowl and brings it over to the pile of furs I’m lying in.

I take a cautious sip the warm broth, “So you stab me, rob me and I get soup in return.”

“Well, you did jump in front of it, how was I supposed to know you’re a lunatic. Prioritize yourself next time, save me some trouble,” he grumbles but hovers around me. Dark circles around his eyes hint that I was the only one who got any sleep.

“Are you really blaming me?? You and your dumb friends were the ones who broke my ride.”

“If that damn bird hadn’t dived at me, I wouldn’t have even used my dagger!”

“Oh, do people not usually try and protect themselves. So sorry for putting up a fight,” my snarky voice seems to bring him relief as his shoulder begin to relax a bit.

“Division carriages never come this way, I guess me and my lads were a bit too eager. The first time it passed by there was clearly no one in it, I didn’t really plan on you being in there at all.” He doesn’t look my way but I assume this is the closest he gets to an apology.

I must admit, for experiencing a classic bandit robbery a few stiches weren’t the worst outcome for a helpless side character like me. The bandit leader next to me didn’t seem cut-out for the cutthroat role he was playing.

“How about, instead of just trying to steal from the division you go and get yourself recruited instead,” perhaps I can lead this young man on a better path; like a quest giving npc.

He retorts, “I was going to ask you to join my crew. Your sneaky cunning shouldn’t go to waste.”

His comment surprises me as I choke on the soup, “What do you mean by that, huh.”

“Ai don’t pretend to be all innocent now, I suffered first hand at your plots. The entire time we’ve been around each other the only time you showed me your back was to trick me! I might have noticed your wound sooner if you let your guard down for even a second.”

Now he’s back to scolding me? I really can’t get a grasp on this guy’s character at all. Perhaps unconsciously I did keep my right side away from him, but I’m not some crafty rouge. I’m supposed to be a comedic relief support character, at most I might end up in a few towers that my sister will have to save me from. I hand him back the empty soup bowl which he refills and begins to eat from himself, this hut must be one of their hideout spots only stocked with a few necessities.

“I have to ask, did you even leave your group a note.” He pauses the bowl leaving his lips.

“Leading any possible people out of the forest for a fee was a possible outcome. They shouldn’t be worried.”

“Oh yeah. Even though since we both got hurt, there might be blood all about the carriage site. Huh? Did you think of what that might look like to them?”

He looks at me wide eyed, “I really need you in my crew. You think of everything.”

“I’m scared of bugs; I wouldn’t last in the woods more than a day.”

“Ah come on, scared of a few butterflies,” he teases.

“Yes, I hate those little freaks. Disgusting, can’t stand them.” I speak firmly looking him straight in the eyes.

The laughter that bursts from him is childlike and reckless, he nearly spills his bowl as he falls to the floor. After we finish eating, he cleans up the pot and comes to lay down in the furs. He hands me a rather nice looking inner and outer shirt before closing his eyes as if to sleep. I carefully manage to get the clothing on, this time he knows better then to offer to help me.

“These threads are much nicer that the ones I was wearing,” I say aloud only half asking.

He opens one eye glancing at me, “The ones you were wearing had too much blood on them. Can’t bring you to town looking like that.”

I don’t see a reason to complain when he adds, “Those clothes are yours, you know. I took them out of your bag.”

Ah I had avoided going through the original Orion’s bag, I guess a spare change of clothes being in there is to be expected. The fabric is cool and smooth, what you would expect from an ex well off family’s son. I stay quiet for a bit and let the bandit rest for the remainder of the morning. I don’t waste my energy wandering around and stay sitting in my spot on the pile of furs; only when the sun seems to move higher in the sky do I disturb him.

“You might as well cut my hair and stash it while were here. How much farther is the nearest city? My legs might end up hurting more then my shoulder at the rate we were walking.”

He replies smoothly making me wonder if he was milking his nap for as long as I would let him.

“It’s just an hour away now, this hideout is right at the edge of the forest. If we hadn’t gotten here in the night, you might have been able to see the main Divisions Mountain in the distance.”

“Then come on. Give me my free hair cut and then I can get out of yours.”

He slowly gets up lazily moving he collects a few things before coming back to sit behind me. He does trim my hair; I’m relieved scissors exist in this world and he’s not just hacking away with his dagger. He doesn’t take nearly as much as I expect him to. Even taking the time to neatly braid and tie back my hair. It still falls a bit past my shoulders while tied, but I’m happy to have it completely out of my way. Sabine had seemed to find my messy attempt at tying it back an injustice to the long hair. So, she’d made a point of only tying enough to keep it out of my face and letting the rest fall prettily. The bandit’s method felt more practical, and I gave a few approving pats to my hair when he was done.

Seeming proud of his work he gave a few gentle tugs to the hair tie, “Now your hair suits my crew. Since you aren’t ‘anyone special’ to the Division just stick around.”

I could tell he was still curious about who I was to the Division, perhaps his incessant propositions were apart of getting me to talk. I stood up and turned to him, giving a spin I walked to the doorway. He let out a sigh but didn’t seem surprised at how I brushed off his offer.

“I might be nobody but I think I owe the Willow Division a thank you in person.”

“A thank you, what could they have done for you?” He gets up putting out the embers of the fire.

“I was sick and they helped” -I won’t mention it was at the request of the protagonist- “It seems like a group that just does that sort of thing. They can’t be all that bad.”

Finished packing up the bandit joins me at the doorway, “I’ll have to keep that in mind. Come on this way. If you’re going to keep tripping over every root just walk beside me.”

We chat comfortably now as we walk, he continues to try and scout me. I try selling him the idea that he seemed more then capable to try joining a different path. We even talk about the Division; he lives close enough to it he knows all the local rumours. I share a bit of what I know, trying my best to avoid mentioning my knowledge comes from the source material of this world. I guess the ordinary people don’t know much about what the Division does. Stories about how it’s a group full of powerful people who horde secrets seem to do the adventuring guild an injustice. Calling them well trained students who go around collecting information and solving the odd problem, is a much closer summary.

When we finally come to a well traveled rocky path. The mountain the division has carved its home into, rises from the tree line. It seems that the bandit takes me on a tour of the small cities’ outer limits, the town is the biggest I’ve seen. People bustling around the markets as vendors sell their wares. I have no desire to dive into such a busy throughfare but enjoy watching curiously from a distance. The bandit makes no move to part ways and seems to enjoy watching me stare around dazed at the city folk. Before I realise it, we spend a few more hours walking around before he delivers me right to the base of the mountain.

A Large carved gateway declares the entrance to the Willow Divisions head quarters, a few ornate looking roof tops can be seen peaking out from the moss-covered rocks and trees that occupy the edges of the mountain. I turn to offer a half sarcastic thank you to the bandit, but he has already gone without a word. I scoff, such a sudden disappearance suits him. Perhaps he’s rightly gained a fear of the danger pigeon delivery birds that live in the Division.

I stare a bit longer at the unfamiliar trees that smell rich and oddly comforting. I let out a heavy breath before walking past the gate and up to the guard house. Somewhere further in this mountain keep is the main protagonist of this world; as well as all her friends, suitors, and their troubles.

#my sister is the protagonist #msitp #MSITP #ongoing story #original story #writers on tumblr #isekai #portal fantasy #polyamory #queer story #queer writers #transmasc character #transmigration

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icryaboutit · 5 months

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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Yuu | Player (Twisted-Wonderland), Epel Felmier, Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola, Sebek Zigvolt, Jack Howl, Ortho Shroud Additional Tags: Yuu can play Instruments, Ace and Epel and Deuce can sing, Jack Howl can play Instruments, so can Ortho, Sebek is the props guy, Yuu assumes the emotional tolerance of twisted wonderland, He assumes wrong, Male Yuu | Player (Twisted-Wonderland), Yuu is a great stage director, Hinted rich Yuu, OOC characters because why not? Series: Part 2 of Twisted Wonderland Au's Summary:

Got inspired by two fics:

This is D*sney, After all. by RuriKagahime

And

Never ask a movie idea from Yuu by NBOA

*I have no idea how the first years' relationship started, but for the sake of this AU, let's just say that it has been a while. Also... throw away those timelines, we won't need them.

#yuu au #Read and find out #twst yuu #prefect yuu #ongoing chapters #ongoing story

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harvey-beaks-later-years · 1 year

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Continuing from here...

Harvey decides to look around the room for clues.

He sees a half eaten sandwich, half a bottle of cider, a framed picture, a mouse trap, a hammer and a small window.

What does he inspect first?

Click here to find out!

#Harvey Beaks #Harvey Beaks: The Later Years #Ongoing Story

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macamadamia · 6 months

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Sometimes, You Can Meet Your Heroes Chapter One

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51511717/chapters/130187266

Chapter Fic - Chapter 1 / ???

Ship: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: Teen and Up

Chapter Word Count: 1000

AO3 Tags: Parent Dean Winchester, Parent Castiel, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Claire Novak is hell on wheels, Minor Character Death (before the story starts), Teen Claire Novak, Kid Ben Braeden, Mute Ben Braeden, Ex-Con Dean Winchester, castiel is doing the best he can

It’s been a year since Lisa’s death, and Castiel is struggling to help his grieving children. Claire has taken moody teenager to a whole new level, while Ben has retreated into silence. Claire might not share his DNA, but he raised her from birth, meeting Lisa when she was already pregnant. He doesn’t know anything about Claire’s birth father, apart from his name, and that he was in prison when Claire was born. He doesn’t want to know anything else about the man. Until Claire disappears in search of Dean Winchester.

Dean faintly hears the doorbell chime of someone entering the front office, but since he’s buried elbow-deep in the engine bay of a 1970 El Camino, he ignores it. The college kid who works the front desk was in today, and Krissy might be small, but she’s fierce, and would run interference on any customers. Happily. With a rifle, if he let her.

Usually, Dean doesn’t mind the customer service side of his business. He likes talking to people about cars, and he’s good at it, but today was a day he didn’t want to face the public He would have stayed home, only he’d probably end up day drinking until he passed out. The five-year anniversary of Benny’s death wasn’t a day he should be spending alone at home.

So, he’d come into work, told Krissy he didn’t want to be disturbed, and went to work on the recalcitrant El Camino Bobby had dropped off, that’d been taking up real estate in his garage for the last few weeks.

With AC/DC blasting on the stereo in the corner, head under the hood of the El Camino, he doesn’t hear Krissy’s footsteps until she’s standing by his elbow.

“Boss?”

Swearing, he jumps and barely avoids colliding his elbow with the engine block. “Jesus fuck Krissy!” Reaching for a dirty rag, he wipes his hands as clean as he can. “What are you doing sneaking up on me?”

Fixing him with a level stare, she doesn’t even flinch. Any other day, he’d respect it. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Tell them I’m not here.”

“Don’t know if I can do that, boss.” Krissy goes from glaring at him to studying her fingernails with their fancy manicure, the kind that’s never been seen in the garage before she started working there. “It’s a girl.”

He rolls his eyes, turning back to the El Camino and throwing over his shoulder “You’re a girl, you talk to her.” Maybe if he ignored her she’d go away, and he could go back to diagnosing what exactly the hell is wrong with the piece of junk Bobby dumped on him.

She’s undeterred though, opening her phone and doing something with it that ends with the music in the stereo cutting out.

“Boss. She asked for ‘that asshole Dean Winchester’.” Her face is serious, even with the ridiculous air quotes. She stares him down, and its Dean who blinks first.

“Shit. Okay.” He wipes his hands again on the already dirty rag. “Lead the way.”

They stop by the sink for Dean to scrub his hands as clean as they’re probably ever going to get. His mind briefly flashes back to his dad – coming home with engine grease under his fingernails and on his coveralls.

He scrubs harder, trying to shake the image away. He doesn’t need any more memories today. He’d already run the full gauntlet when he woke up.

Krissy isn’t wrong. There is a girl in the front office. Waiting by the desk, wearing a school uniform he doesn’t recognise from any of the kids he sees in the neighbourhood. Her head buried in her phone, radiating teenage attitude even at this distance.

She looks up when he opens the door, and he sees the flash of uncertainty cross her face before she schools it back into disinterest. But there’s tension there, Dean can feel it. She isn’t here looking for a job, and she isn’t a rich teenager wanting a custom upgrade to the first car their daddy bought them.

Dean doesn’t know what this is, but he’s got a bad feeling. And his bad feelings are usually right.

Krissy barrels straight through the tension, snorting and folding her arms to lean up against the door frame. “You wanted to see the boss. I found him for you.”

“Yeah, thanks Veronica Mars, I’ll put my check in the mail for you.”

Dean reaches out an arm as Krissy bristles and takes a step forward, shaking his head at her. “Krissy, why don’t you go out to lunch? Charge it to petty cash.”

Again, with the staring competition, but this time it’s Krissy who breaks away first. “Sure thing, boss. But if you need anything, I’ll be right next door at Beth’s.”

She leaves, nearly shoulder-checking the teenager on the way out. The girl flips her the bird. He doesn’t know what went down before he arrived in from out the back, but he’ll quiz Krissy later. He’ll probably get an earful off Beth as well, knowing Krissy she’s next door telling on him to the café owner.

The girl leans back against the counter, sizing him up. She doesn’t appear to like what she sees. “You’re Dean Winchester?”

He pastes an easy smile on his face, going for the charm that usually wins over his female customers. “Yeah, apparently. What’s with the attitude, Miley Cyrus?”

“Eat me, Hasselhoff.”

Charm doesn’t work, so he tries a new tactic. “Okay, cool it. Yes, I’m Dean Winchester. I don’t know who you are though, where the attitude is coming from, or what you’re doing in my garage when we’ve got a big old closed sign on the door.”

She dodges the questions. He sees that uncertainty creeping back under the bluff and bluster. “Why are you closed on a random Thursday, if you and the receptionist are here?”

He can play the avoidance game, too. He’s probably been playing it since before she was born, god help him. “Look. You’re clearly here for a reason. Let’s start over. I’m Dean Winchester, and you are…?” He stretches out his hand for her to shake.

After a heartbeat of hesitation, she shakes it. “I’m Claire Braeden-Novak, and I’m 15 years old and an Aquarius.”

Oh. Maths was never his strong suit, but the numbers fall into place quicker than he’d like them to.

“My mom was Lisa Braeden.”

Oh shit.

“And you’re that asshole Dean Winchester who bailed on his pregnant girlfriend 16 years ago.”

Fuck.

#supernatural #ao3 author #fanfic #casdean #macamadamia's fanfics #destiel #spn fanfic #ongoing story

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