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mamawasatesttube · 1 year

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Please tell us more about the Selkie au 👀

I wanna know everything. What’s the significance of the pelt being worn by Tim? What are the backstories?

YEAH!!!! okay so a bit of background: selkies are critters from celtic/norse mythos. they are seal-human shapeshifters, who can change form by removing or wearing their sealskins; the most common tales involve fishermen stealing a selkie woman's sealskin cloak to entrap her as his wife, despite her yearning to return to the sea.

SO, with that being said:

kryptonians are selkies!!!

kon is created by cadmus labs and lex luthor. he doesn't even know the significance of his coat; it's kept locked away except for when he gets it for promotional photoshoots. he doesn't realize it has anything to do with why he's always discontented and afflicted with varying bouts of malaise.

when clark finds out - when he can see this physical, material evidence of kon's mistreatment - he's beyond horrified and enraged. they're violating a child, so profoundly that he doesn't even realize he's being violated, and he cannot let that stand.

lois, fully human but VERY protective of her husband and by extension all selkies: LET ME AT HIM. LET ME AT LUTHOR IM GONNA RIP HIS FACE OFF

clark, holding her off the ground: dearest, please. i need you to stay calm... and write the most damning exposé the planet has ever seen.

lois: .......FINE. but then YOU better rip that bald fucker's face off, you hear me?

clark comes home with kon in tow, uncharacteristically quiet and subdued. his eyes are red-rimmed and his cheeks blotchy, but lois doesn't say a word about it. she lets him sit curled up in the corner of the sofa, clutching his pelt around himself tight enough to make himself look small, and thinks he looks more like a child than he ever has before.

fast forward a couple years. kon has found his place in the family; jon in particular adores him. he's gotten kind of jaded and unhappy about his whole history; he's seen clark leave his sealskin around the house, has even seen lois wear it, but he's kept his hidden away in his room ever since that first day, except for when he's wearing it himself. clark, lois, and ma never touch it; the only one allowed to is jon, and even he knows not to push if kon's feeling antsy.

tim is kon's bestie. all the core four are besties. but none of them know the selkie secret - it's very well-guarded. they just know kon is a weirdo who really loves to take long walks on the beach and gaze at the ocean.

one day, he is on a long walk by the marina with tim. tim, somehow or other, falls into the water in january. he gets out quickly, of course, but it's cold and he's wet and kon really doesn't want him to get hypothermia, so--

he shrugs the sealskin coat off his own shoulders and wraps it around tim's, and tells him c'mon, let's get back to the house.

they go back to the house.

they walk in the door.

tim is wearing kon's coat.

tim. is WEARING. KON'S COAT.

kon, who barely even tolerates his beloved baby brother touching his coat, because he was so violated and taken advantage of in his earliest days!!!!

TIM IS WEARING KON'S!!! COAT!!!!!

clark hold her coffee. lois is about to whip out her shotgun.

and that's how we get the scene @cowboysorceror drew <3 clark is extremely concerned; lois is 👌 THIS CLOSE to a mama bear rampage, tim is freezing, and kon is like. well. this sure is happening!

other quick notes, in part brainstormed with beckett and also with my bestie @adjit in various dms:

kon doesn't, like, LOVE this whole scenario, but frankly, he's more worried about tim than he is upset about his coat. he knows tim would never use it to hurt him, to control him, to own him; he trusts tim. simple as that!

it's kind of hard to communicate this to clark and lois in a couple of quick facial expressions over tim's head, but he manages.

they get tim bundled into a hot shower and warm, dry clothes, etc. he's coming back downstairs from kon's room, afterwards, and pauses on his silent feet when he overhears his name in conversation.

"no, it's not--i'm fine, i promise," kon is saying. "tim's not like--tim wouldn't hurt me. i know he wouldn't. you don't gotta worry."

huh, tim thinks. he's pretty observant, not that he needed to be to notice the way clark and lois stared at him and kon earlier. clearly, the jacket is significant; he knows clark and jon have matching ones. maybe it's a family thing?

sounds like kon had some kind of shitty ex, and... they got worried about him getting into a relationship again?

well. no need to worry about that! he immediately resolves that he will put their worries at rest. he Will be the best boyfriend kon has EVER had.

like, they aren't dating (yet), but, uh, you know. semantics. details.

(he doesn't find out the actual secret until later. when he finally realizes what this meant, that kon trusted him with his personhood, he. well, he's not crying, but he does get this funny tug in his chest and he really, really has to go hug kon for a long time.)

#PHEW SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG #the thing is ummmm i fucking love selkie au #answers #selkie au #guess im starting that as a tag. just in case #rimi writes #also putting this there. Just In Case #timkon #kon #clark #lois #tim #adjit #cowboysorceror #collaborative storycrafting with the squad!!!! :D #summerbummin

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peaches2217 · 3 months

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Perhaps some 🤒 for Luisley?

🤒 - Needing to be looked after

Overstimulated

~~~

The click of the front door opening, muffled though it was through the walls of his bedroom, brought Luigi out of his self-induced trance. That would be Mario. Back so soon?

When there was no call of “Weegee, sono tornato!”, the dread fluttering within Luigi’s stomach beat its wings even harder, exacerbated by the perpetual overstimulation that buzzed throughout his limbs and core. A silent Mario was rarely a good thing. That usually meant he was angry or deeply saddened or so thoroughly baffled that he had to retreat into his thoughts to make any sense of his own feelings, and given the context under which he had left the house…

What did he say? Was he upset? Those thoughts tumbled through Luigi’s head in a maddening rush, and as terrified as he was of the answer, he needed to know. As unusually light footsteps padded towards his room, he cocooned himself beneath his blankets, as if their soft fabric could cushion the blow of whatever he was about to hear, and steeled himself.

“Ch-che ha detto?” he called out to his brother. “Era… arrabbiato?”

The voice that responded was not Mario’s.

“Ah! There you are!”

Luigi’s blood froze within his veins.

He tossed the blankets aside and sat up just as the door was thrown open, and the sudden slam of wood against wood sent a jolt through his body that made him clap his hands over his ears. The all too familiar figure in the doorway, his bold chartreuse and white and gold standing in stark contrast to the cottage’s cozy interior, jolted as well.

“Commoners’ abodes,” Peasley muttered beneath his breath, eyeing the door with a mix of contempt and bemusement. “Why must your doors be so ludicrously lightweight?”

The disdain in his eyes might normally draw a chuckle from Luigi — he could practically see Peasley storming into the office of Toad Town’s primary contractor and causing a scene, because how dare the great heroes of the Mushroom Kingdom be given a home constructed of anything less than marble and solid gold — but today he flinched away from it.

This wasn’t happening. Surely this wasn’t happening.

Remembering all too suddenly the state that he was in, Luigi dove beneath the covers once more. Maybe he hadn’t been seen. Maybe he could still save face. Maybe the fabric could swallow him whole and put an end to this nightmare before it began. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing?” Peasley repeated, his tone thick with mock-offense. “My love, what wouldn’t I be doing here? Is it not one’s most sacred duty to tend to their loved ones in times of need?”

His voice came nearer as he spoke, and beneath his shroud of cotton and down, Luigi gulped. His pulse throbbed in his ears, his heart threatening to rip through bone and sinew right out of his chest. “Please don’t worry,” he said, though his voice shook far more than he would’ve liked. “I— I’m sorry I couldn’t make it today! It’s just, y’know—”

“‘Shroom fever’, correct?” Peasley drew the question out, his voice calm, but laced with something that sounded like amusement.

He didn’t buy it. Immediately Luigi’s throat tightened, and he inhaled sharply, willing himself not to start tearing up.

He expected his blankets to be pried away any moment now, for Peasley to expose his unkempt, lying face and see him for the great big mess that he truly was. The mattress dipped beside where he was curled into a pathetic heap, and his muscles tensed, preparing for the worst.

But it never came.

“Yes, that’s what the red one told me.” The amusement was still there, but now it sounded softer, more affectionate than accusatory. “I must say, he’s not too terribly convincing a liar. He would have held no qualms in seeing me to your bedside if you were ill, but he couldn’t give me a good answer for why this time was different.”

Luigi winced. He hasn’t considered that.

“You can’t tell him what’s going on,” he’d pleaded to his brother half an hour earlier, arms hugging his chest tightly in a futile attempt to stave off the effects of sensory overload. “Just, like… tell him I’m sick. Tell him I’ve got shroom fever or something!”

Mario, though sympathetic, had been disapproving. “He’s gonna have to know eventually. Come on, you know as well as I do that it won’t change anything.”

“But what if it does? What if he thinks I’m pathetic?”

“Then he never deserved you in the first place,” was Mario’s response.

Of course, that answer brought Luigi very little comfort. He felt bad enough when this happened, when his oddly-wired brain decided for no good reason that all sensory input was suddenly a thousand times more overwhelming than what he was used to, that getting out of bed was just too great a struggle as a result. For it to happen on a day he was supposed to meet up with the love of his life? The thought that he might lose said love for something so pathetic as this? Luigi couldn’t even begin to comprehend the ease with which Mario suggested that might be okay.

Peasley chuckled now, the sound resonating from deep within his chest. “Your fraternal devotion to one another will never cease to amaze me. No matter my insistence, I couldn’t drag an answer from him. He merely said that my right to know was entirely up to you.”

Frustration and gratitude grappled for superiority in Luigi’s mind. Of course Mario would never go spilling Luigi’s business. But he would have allowed it just this once, just to save himself some heartache.

If he was going to lose Peasley’s respect, he would have preferred it to happen from a distance. He didn’t want this front-row seat to his own undoing. The air beneath his flimsy fortress was hot and stale, and he felt sweat beading at his hairline.

“…It’s nothing,” he finally attempted, meekly.

“Hmm. Well, it’s something to you, and thus it’s something to me.” A rustling of fabric, and then the lightest of indents in the mattress next to his head. Peasley’s hand. “Do you mourn, my love? Might this be the anniversary of some tragedy? Or perhaps you’ve lost something dear to you?”

Not yet. Even thinking as much constricted Luigi’s airway once more, so he shook his head in response.

Peasley hummed again. “Might this have to do with your condition, then? Your anxiety, or your… awe-tee-sum, was it called?”

“Autism,” Luigi corrected automatically, and instantly he flinched at his own haste. “It’s… it’s nothing, I promise. It’s dumb.”

“Ah. So that’s a yes.”

Peasley still didn’t move. He sat perfectly still, his hand never once inching closer, an invitation that Luigi was welcome to accept or decline as he saw fit. He wanted nothing more than to reach out into the still air and take that hand, hold onto it with all his might, have some sort of solid proof that he wouldn’t be abandoned in spite of his brain telling him such an outcome was inevitable.

“…What else did Mario say?” he ventured instead, because Peasley had never been the sort to keep his hands to himself, and he had a sneaking suspicion his elder twin had something to do with that, too.

“He said I would do well to speak quietly and refrain from touching you without your permission,” Peasley confessed, “lest I would have scooped you into my arms the moment I heard your voice.” Another chuckle, and this time Luigi almost had the heart to join in. “I confess, I still don’t quite understand. But I would like to help. Will you acquaint me with your struggles, my dear?”

Acquaint me with your struggles. Now this was the phrase that bounced about Luigi’s skull, because it made no sense whatsoever. They were supposed to be on a date together. They were supposed to be out and about, enjoying food and nature and being a normal couple (as normal a couple as a human nobody and a Beanish prince could be, anyway). But instead Luigi was cooped up at home, too overstimulated to function like a regular personal, and Peasley had every right to be upset with him for balking on their plans and being a waste of oxygen and organic matter.

And for some reason only the Star Spirits could attest to, he wasn’t. Literal royalty sat at Luigi’s side, addressing him with fondness and requesting understanding of his inadequacies.

That was reason enough for Luigi to untangle himself from his blankets and pull them down, just enough to peek up and ensure the creature beside him was, in fact, not some fantastical fabrication from deep within his own fantasies.

“There you are.” Deep brown eyes beamed at him, revered him as a god among men, and for a moment Luigi felt that maybe he really was. “I feared I might not get to see that beautiful visage at all today.”

A swirl of conflicting emotions bubbled up within Luigi: confusion, joy, sadness, shame, filling every crevice of his body and compelling him to act. Hesitantly, he pulled the covers all the way down; the shedding of those protective layers made the buzzing in his limbs intensify, and the fresh air sent a chill through him, but breathing it in felt refreshing, even renewing. He filled his lungs, reached out, and accepted Peasley’s invitation at last.

The prince’s hand was pleasantly cool to the touch, and just as he had hoped, its stable presence calmed his racing heart. He tightened his grasp and tugged in order to pull himself up and scoot into an upright position. His head spun and his mouth was dry, but Peasley was here, and he would at least hear him out, and the loving gaze he fixed Luigi with gave him the courage to explain.

“Sometimes,” he began, “I… I mean, half the time, n-nothing’s wrong, everything’s fine, but for some reason the world is too loud and too bright a-and everything… hurts. It’s all just…” He balled his free hand into a fist and clenched as tightly as he could, and that at least lessened the buzz in the corresponding arm. “...too much.”

“Is that so?” Peasley said. There was genuine curiosity in his tone, sympathy in his eyes. “And today is such a day?”

Luigi nodded. “And I-I promise I tried fighting past it today. I didn’t wanna let you down, but…”

“Let me down? Luigi, I would never ask you to exceed your limitations for my sake.”

“But my limitations are—” He swallowed as well as he could, given his tongue felt woolen in his mouth. “Don’t you think it’s… don’t you think I’m kinda… kinda pathetic?”

The question gave Peasley pause, and where Luigi half-expected a denial, he was given only silence. But this silence wasn’t tense or uncertain; Peasley touched his index finger to his chin and cast his eyes aside, lips puckering and brows furrowing, the charmingly goofy expression of a Bean deep in thought.

He was… he was actually giving it serious consideration. And somehow that made his answer mean so much more than an immediate reassurance would have.

“…Not particularly, no,” he ultimately decided. “There are days where even I, skillful as I am, don’t feel quite up to par, and oftentimes there’s no good reason for it. Would you think less of me for such a thing?”

“Wha—? O-of course not!”

“And I think no less of you in turn.” Drawing Luigi’s hand to his lips, he pressed a tender kiss to his knuckles, his well-moisturized lips soft against the tight and dry skin. “Thank you for teaching me more about yourself, Greenie. I loathe to see you struggle, but I’m grateful that you would share those struggles with me.”

Once more Luigi’s heart raced, but no longer with fearful anxiety. Was this really possible? He was so certain he’d ruined Peasley’s day, so certain the repercussions would haunt him for years to come, and yet here he was, showering him with love and accepting him at one of his lower lows.

This wasn’t happening. Surely it wasn’t happening.

But it was, and the relief and gratitude and affection that flowed through his perpetually overstimulated body made Luigi want to slump forward, fall into Peasley’s arms, wait out the unpleasantness in the safety of his embrace.

At the same time, the thought of so much physical contact… he shuddered and relaxed his balled fist. Maybe holding hands was as much as he could manage today. But suddenly the thought of being alone again terrified him. “Will— will you stay? I-I don’t know where Mario’s at but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind—”

The smile Peasley flashed was both pleased and knowing. “Oh, rest assured, he’s not too far. He said he’d remain in the living room while we spoke.” Leaning in, he added beneath his breath: “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been listening in all this time. You know you have an excellent brother, do you not?”

At that, Luigi laughed, a mousey but authentic laugh. “You have an excellent brother” was Peasley Code for “Your brother has implicitly made threats against me that could have him declared a war criminal in the Beanbean Kingdom because he cares far more for your well being than his own.” Mario trusted Peasley and the two were good friends, sure, but he could get… rather intense when it came to his beloved little brother’s heart.

“Sorry about him,” Luigi whispered back.

“Rest assured, I’m happy for it! The more people looking after you, the better.” Peasley leaned back once more and stood, but he didn’t let go of Luigi’s hand. “Would you like some water?” he asked at his original volume. “And perhaps some lip balm? You’ve been licking and smacking your lips this entire time, you know.”

Luigi’s tongue darted between his lips automatically at that statement, and he realized Peasley was correct; not only were his throat and mouth still dry, but his lips were cracked. A bad habit of his, admittedly, and one he was never conscious of until someone else pointed it out. “Please. But—” He paused then, because making requests of a prince still didn’t feel quite right.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to make the request. Peasley gave his hand one more tight squeeze before dropping it and answering the silent question aloud.

“I’ll be only a moment,” he promised as he backed out of the room. “Nothing in all the world could convince me to leave your side, my love. You have my word.”

And though he still trembled in discomfort as his boyfriend took his leave, Luigi relaxed against the headboard, closing his eyes and sighing softly, because he knew it was the truth. Come hell or high water, full-functioning days or overload days, he knew now more certainly than ever that Peasley had no intention of abandoning him.

And he had to admit, that was a nice feeling.

#phew! this got long #I've got a note on my phone with short blurbs detailing the planned plots for upcoming wips #this one's blurb was literally just 'autistic burnout bitches'#I saw this prompt and knew IMMEDIATELY where I wanted to go with it so thank you so much for this #super mario bros #smb #luigi #prince peasley #mario & luigi superstar saga #m&l rpgs #luisley #luigi x peasley #peaches' fancy fics

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sysig · 7 months

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Gosh, it's almost october already? Time flies! For a Vargas request: its quite a fluffy one for the spooky times (and the source material haha), but I've always found the idea of Edgar from And Also With You sleeping on his wings quite endearing. They're built in blankets! Great for some rest (which this man desperately needs lmao).

Day 5 - Heavenly rest

#My art #Requestober #Vargas #Edgar #But you and I both know he's not gonna Stay asleep for long haha #Phew I feel out of wing practice too! All these reminders! It's good to come back haha #I yet again lined all those chains by hand - who can stop me? Lol #I also think it's a bit funny that I drew his halo like that lol - I've previously just done the super-sharp disc style #This is more on-model! But I'm not used to it! How/why did my brain default to this?? Lol well it works #Imagining him curling up on his lonesome ah it's sweet and sad #A little Edgar-cocoon but he's already got beautiful wings! Would he turn back into a caterpillar?#All his eyes look so strange closed as well! Almost more like scars on his skin #Or the one on his forehead looks like an eyebrow haha #Like he's grimacing in his sleep but no! He's quite restful in the moment <3 #He'll get a rude wake up call in no time ♪

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multicolour-ink · 2 months

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In response to the tags in your answer to the ask about Luigi reacting to Mario’s guilt, how do you think the bros make up if they both think they’ve ruined their relationship with their argument? Would a third party try to step in and help (maybe Yoshi, I feel like he’d be a good emotional support companion for the bros in the sequel)?

referring to this

I think a third party would step in during all this to add moral support (like Yoshi), but I imagining this all playing out while the brother's are adventuring together in the sequel. Another obstacle they have to overcome on the journey.

One of the themes of the sequel that I really hope to see explored is the concept of change. The bros have lived a pretty normal life in Brooklyn, working hard to build a business and become somebodies - all while having each other as their greatest support. However now with the responsibilities of a kingdom on their shoulders, there is a new pressure put on them that they have never experienced before.

All of this added stress and change in their lives causes them to find it harder to lean on each other. They are both experiencing practically the same feelings about the situation, but they want to help each other. And in turn that causes a rift. I don't have a solid idea as to how exactly the journey from A (the start of the tension and argument) to B (the resolution) would play out...but I do like to imagine a moment where they have gone through a very intense battle (perhaps just before the third act) and they have to rest up in a safe spot. All the while they are conscious of the fact that not long before they put each other down in a way they never wanted to in all their lives.

And as they sit there one of them (probably Luigi since he's the more level headed) starts to talk, and then Mario does and all their regret and guilt over the way they have been acting comes spilling out. Mario especially is frustrated because he wants to protect Luigi but also the kingdom. While Luigi is just trying to come into his own and support his older brother. At some point the two come to the realisation that their relationship is changing because of the new life they both decided, and I think Mario would panic and cry about the idea that they're drifting apart. And Luigi would take Mario in his arms and firmly tell him that they'll always support each other, no matter what they do.

Cue all the hugs and tears and the bros saving the day in the final battle ^^

#phew sorry this got a bit long #but hopefully you get the idea as to how badly I want their relationship to be tested #I want there to be emotions and I want the bros to realise that and find a new way to support each other #super mario #mario #luigi #the super mario bros movie #mario movie #super mario movie #mario movie 2 #mario movie sequel ideas #mario movie sequel #multicolour ink answers

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tennessoui · 2 months

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i decided to reread ur foolproof, foolhardy fic, and "“You dropped into my lap about five meters away from both our masters in a very unsoundproofed ship and asked all sultry, Wanna fuck? How could a man say no?”" how WOULD poor master skywalker have responded if baby!obi-wan had done that instead of his long seduction? (maybe not where qui-gon could hear)

fun fact!! one of the original ideas for the last chapter of foolproof foolhardy was to go full-circle with this moment and have them fuck before they talk it out - fuck in the ship "because we should just get it out of our systems" on their way to the mission, a fling obi-wan proposes by dropping into anakin's lap and asking him wanna fuck?

and then after they have rough angry sex, they go do the mission they're assigned and something goes wrong and they talk about their feelings then in a big and dramatic way

but that would have meant like. 3 more chapters at least and the last step of the plan was to "be honest and direct" so i figured i had to make them be honest and direct lol

BUT! obi-wan does the lap sitting and proposition thing twice in the story, both times with vos (the one you quoted and then once in the interlude chapter when vos gently turns him down because he's not going to be a stand-in for anakin skywalker)

and then in the last chapter when he and anakin are kissing, it's referenced again:

He doesn’t think he realized until this moment that there is no need to coax Anakin into anything. He’s already wanted, past all logic and reason. He does not need to play on Anakin’s possessiveness, his anger, his jealousy. All he has to do to be wanted by Anakin Skywalker is to drop into his lap and say please.

so really 'dropping into his lap and saying please' is sort of padawan obi-wan's MO lol i think master skywalker would have turned scarlet and i think he would have caved but it would make their love story even more complicated if they had slept together before they talked about anything

(aka in a stacy's mom au au, let's say instead of master skywalker comming ahsoka to tell her to come back in the first chapter, he goes to get her and decides to personally escort all padawans back to the temple - not vos though as he is a knight and can choke. ahsoka ends up passed out in her bed and obi-wan is really planning to leave but now it's just him and master skywalker and there's something about the man that makes him seem...approachable right now...willing. it may be the exhaustion around his eyes, it may be because this is the first time they've really been alone together since zygerria, it may be because master skywalker had his hand on his lower back the entire time he escorted him and ahsoka back to the temple, it may be because he caught master skywalker looking at his lips at least once tonight, it may be because obi-wan has had way too much to drink really and anakin's pouring a drink of his own because apparently there's important paperwork he must do and and and and it may be a thousand different things that make obi-wan feel just confident enough to drop into master skywalker's lap and ask him if he wants to fuck around - but they have to be quiet because ahsoka is asleep in the next room

and because neither would be able to just do it once, because they're both still in love with each other, they start sneaking around to do it more. there's no bet, just a lot of guilt. quinlan doesn't know, ahsoka doesn't know, and it turns out in the shadows is a good place to kiss and a bad place to have the conversations they need to have....so they don't have them and they don't have them and they don't have them and obi-wan tries to tell himself this is enough this is more than he deserves, more than he ever thought he'd get and anakin tries to tell himself that this is all he deserves and more than he ever thought he'd get)

#asks #phew that got long im sorry #stacy's mom au #obikin #no worries in any iteration of those two characters there would be so much angst and guilt and love #it would be a completely different story tho #which ngl im sort of fascinated by

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valiantstarlights · 10 months

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I am obsessed with your writing especially Demon Dream and the lovely priest he took as his husband

I keep wanting the angst though of Hob getting kidnapped while he is carrying their baby and Dream threatening to unleash the apocalypse until he gets Hob back

Thank you 🖤 I love them too, blasphemous as they are. 🥰

Okay. So while I think it's highly unlikely for priest!Hob to get kidnapped, especially when he gets pregnant, let's say it did happen.

CW: violence and gore, but neither dream nor hob gets hurt so don't worry 😊 strangely fluffy 👀

Maybe the lower demons squatting in Destruction's abandoned territory thought it was a good idea to kidnap Dream's pregnant consort as a hostage. Give us what we want and you'll get your whore and your spawn back.

Maybe they managed to plant a couple of their own agents among Dream's household servants, and they knocked Hob out and carried him out through a hidden passageway in the dead of night while Dream is visiting one of his siblings' territories for some administrative business.

Maybe they even manage to drug Matthew the hellhound's food, knowing that the hellhound never leaves Hob's side, especially with Dream gone with Jessamy.

(Matthew has followed Hob around like a 3 month old puppy since he arrived, always begging for pets and treats. Matthew is as large as a warhorse and he is very spoiled. 🐶)

The lower demons behind the kidnapping plot are very happy that the first phase of their plan succeeded without a hitch.

For the second phase, they write a threatening letter to Dream with their demands. They foolishly mention that they're gonna hurt Hob and their unborn child.

Dream, currently in Desire's territory, goes ballistic when he receives the letter. He goes full Nightmare form, towering over everyone, horns and wings and tail on display, fanged mouth dripping with blood, claws long and sharp, his feet leaving fiery footprints in his wake.

(In short, very scary sexy.)

Desire, Unity, and a pregnant Miranda do their best to calm him down, but every time Dream sees Miranda's stomach, he is reminded of Hob and he wants to tear Hell apart looking for him.

Desire feels for their brother. When Unity had been pregnant with Miranda, they almost had their entire territory on lockdown. So they offer to join forces with Dream to look for whoever is responsible and fashion a new level of Hell just for the culprits. Them and Dream are going to personally torture them all for eternity.

Dream is very grateful and calms down a little. He is still freaking out, thinking the absolute worst scenarios and remembering the last morning he spent with Hob, with the man standing behind him in the vanity, combing his hair and being very careful about his horns, how warm he felt when they embraced, how the baby kicked between them, as if wanting attention as well. Hob had laughed when the baby continued kicking and stretching, with Dream's large hands pressed against his stomach, imploring the child to take it easy on Hob's body.

Did he tell Hob that he loves him before he left? He must have. He remembers kissing him until Hob pushed Dream's face away playfully and told him he's already running late.

Before Dream left, Hob told him that he wants guava jelly donuts and smoked sausages when he comes back from visiting Desire. They had visited together, a long time ago, before Hob got pregnant. Dream remembers being dragged to various food stalls, and Hob chatting with the food vendors, who were happy to serve him and Dream their best creations.

He wants to see Hob's smile again. Feel their child moving in Hob's belly again.

Desire helps him write messages to their other siblings, informing them of the situation, and has their own trusted messengers send the letters.

Dream is glad that Desire is helping him, because he cannot think clearly right now. He wants to storm Destruction's abandoned territory first, and Hob cannot possibly be there.

...Unless the rebellion they quelled years ago have managed to build their forces back up again and they were the ones behind this.

He tells this to Desire, who finds his logic sound. And without another word, they gear up for battle and call upon their armies.

Meanwhile, Hob is being kept in a glass cage. Not like Dream's fishbowl, but kinda like an aquarium. Roomier, and has the amenities of a prison cell, which Hob is actually thankful for, because he pees a lot these days.

No one has touched him yet, but he has heard the things they want to do to him: unpleasant things he'd rather not hear. He hopes his baby is asleep and not listening because he doesn't want them to be traumatized.

He knows that Dream is coming for him and that all these lower demons would pay for what they have done, but he wishes he would come sooner rather than later. He is still a couple months away from giving birth, but he worries about his nutrition. He wants his baby to be healthy, and prison food in Hell is just...not it.

(He's only been here like a day and he hates it.)

And he misses Dream. This is the first time they've been away from each other this long. He wants to lay in bed with him and have him hum lullabies from his own childhood while he presses kisses on Hob's stomach. He wants to read books sitting on Dream's lap, Dream reading his own book, and Matthew and Jessamy napping at their feet. He wants to eat his meals with him which would eventually lead them to fuck in the dining room.

Dream is gentler, these days, torturing Hob sweetly when he goes slow and gentle rather than fast and rough like Hob sometimes craves.

Hob wants his husband.

Hob wants his child to be safe and healthy.

Hob wants to kill every single last one of these motherfuckers who dare lay a hand on him, and would dare harm his child.

As you can see, once Hob enters the anger stage of the five stages of grief, he's as vicious as Dream and his other siblings. He may just be human, and he may be currently pregnant and seemingly helpless, but you have to remember that this is the same man who murdered someone in cold blood when he was still a priest because he wanted to save a convent full of nuns from being the man's victims.

Also, Hell has changed him.

He vows that he's going to survive, and in a couple of months, he'll safely give birth to his and Dream's child in the safety of Dream's castle.

And so he waits.

He waits until the lower demons grow restless, and for them to become stupid enough to want to enter his cage and do what they said they were going to do.

He barely has to wait a full day.

The first batch of demons enter his cage, and they're all smirking, telling him that Dream has abandoned him, and that he's their plaything now.

Hob has his back against the corner, but he is calm and says nothing back. Just caresses his belly complacently.

When the first one brazenly steps closer, Hob opens his mouth and starts reciting scripture.

The demons, almost as one, clap their hands against their ears before they explode in a shower of blood.

Hob continues speaking, projecting his voice louder, the way he used to do when he gave Mass as a priest.

It was an accident, how he found out that scripture can hurt the lower demons.

Back when he was new in Hell, a servant had given him his meal in his rooms. Dream had been across the castle attending to some business, and Hob had begged him for a reprieve after the previous night's activities so he was still in bed.

The servant served him his food, then demurely steps to the side, in case he has a need for anything else.

Unthinkingly, Hob had said grace. And the poor demon girl had shrieked and clapped her hands against her ears, and Hob immediately shut his mouth and apologized profusely.

The servant girl's ears bled a little, but her full recovery time took a week. She was a lovely girl and so Hob sent her gifts every day until she healed, genuinely apologetic about his thoughtless action.

Back then, he had only spoken the first four words of the prayer. Now he is reciting the entire Book of Psalms.

Desire and Dream, along with their combined armies, arrive at Destruction's territory and mercilessly slaughters all the demons they meet. Their bodies will reform later, but they have been marked for torture, and will not be able to escape or hide ever again.

Dream is a monster in the battlefield. Demons actually flee at the sight of him, but he does not let them. He carves a bloody path straight to Destruction's crumbling castle, where his heart is telling him to go.

Once he disintegrates the castle doors, he descends the stairs towards the basement, heart in his throat, fearing the worst.

He is barely halfway down the steps when he sees a massacre.

From how the bodies are positioned, though, they look like they were fleeing something. Some died covering their ears. Others are just a spray of red on the walls and floors.

He walks on.

In the middle of the basement is a glass cage. He snarls at the sight, imagining Hob being caged and treated like an animal, when he should be placed on a throne and dressed in the richest and softest materials, spoiled and well-fed and loved.

The cage's walls are covered in blood, and Dream knows he has to go inside and check, but what if--

He can't bear it if--

He hears humming.

He runs forward and wrenches the cage's door open, and is met with Hob, sitting on the bed that is pushed against one wall, covered in blood but looking unharmed.

Hob's face lights up when he sees Dream, and Dream rushes towards him, falling down on his knees and running his hands all over his love, checking if he's safe. If the baby is safe. Dream is going to start torturing everyone responsible as soon as their bodies reform.

"I'm fine, Dream, honestly," Hob says, laughing and batting his hands away.

It's so good to hear him laugh again. Dream kisses him, unmindful of the blood smearing between their faces.

"And our child?" Dream asks, hands still on Hob's arms, holding him so his mind registers that this is, in fact, real. Hob is alive. Hob is fine. "Are they safe?"

"Of course they are," Hob says. "Although I have to say, they have had enough excitement for a while. No excitement again until they're at least a century old, please."

"You would not let them help me torture the demons who dared to end their life before they're born?"

Hob hums and thinks about it. Finally, he says, "Not if I were there to remind you both to take breaks."

Dream laughs. It's terrible and frightening, but Hob loves it. And oh, how Dream loves his husband back.

"Thank you for rescuing me, by the way," Hob says as he stands. Dream helps him up, and places his hand on Hob's back, gently massaging the area. "Oooh, that feels good, thank you."

"I do not think you needed rescuing at all," Dream remarks, now looking at the scene around them. Only the place where Hob was sitting is free of blood and guts. "Did you do all this?"

Hob looks at him askance. "Of course I did. Have you so little faith in me?"

Dream pulls his beautiful, brilliant husband towards him again, and together they stand in the middle of the carnage that is Hob's doing alone. Between them, their child moves and greets Dream with a gentle nudge against Hob's stomach. Dream presses his hand against the movement, and with the other tilts Hob's lovely face up so he would see just how much Dream means his next statement.

"My love, you are the only one I have unending faith in, and the only one I will gladly spend the rest of my life worshipping." He leans down and gives his love a chaste kiss on the lips. They are both covered in blood, but it doesn't matter. It's irrefutable evidence that they would do everything in their power to get back together and keep their family safe.

Hob hums. "I'm looking forward to this eternal worship by first eating the guava jelly donuts and the smoked sausages I asked you to buy."

"And you shall have them," Dream promises. "For I have not forgotten."

"Carry me home?"

Dream obediently leans down and picks his husband up in his arms. Hob's ankles must be killing him. All the more reason to make these bastards suffer. He is looking forward to showing them just how badly they fucked up.

But that can wait until after his husband is happy and sated and safe behind his castle walls again.

#priest hob AU #phew this got a bit long #ask and you shall receive #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #good job my thumbs #bamf hob gadling #shockingly good husband #dream of the endless

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cannibalizecastiel · 1 year

Video

WHETHER YOU COME AS A LOVER OR AN EXECUTIONER I AM READY TO RECEIVE YOU.

dean & benny // international small arms traffic blues

#YOU GOT THE BEST OF MY LOVE...#ITS ALL ABOUT THE CONSTANT PUSH AND PULL.#the inherent tragedy...#anyway this took so long def the longest and most serious fanvideo ive ever made #PHEW #deanbenny #dean wichester #benny lafitte #dean/benny #my videos

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onlyzhuyilong · 3 months

Text

#please stand by for the queue #when Long Ge saw that crowd of people waiting outside his hotel he got a little frightened until he heard his name being cheered for #he realized it was xlbs but he was kept safe by two bodyguards (phew)#he’s a special guy but ultimately a smol bean and a regular guy who doesn’t like crowds (me neither xD)#zhu yilong #朱一龙 #朱一龍 #주일룡

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fruityfroggy · 2 months

Note

🧠and📖for both characters, perhaps? :3c

YAYYY I’m officially in the game :Dc

Okay, put on your reading hats, here goes nothing

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Lady Clef:

🧠: What was their original character concept? Do they have any specific theming?

Lady Clef was originally just going to be a flirtatious nightclub singer (I was going for that flirty r1999 woman vibe, iykyk). But after a while, I decided to base her off of the femme fatale trope in film noir, with a bit of a twist (kinda like a Bonney situation). So now, she’s a cunning yet alluring nightclub and lounge singer with questionable intentions. But she always gets away with all the mind games she plays with her obsessed “minions”. Though some do mysteriously disappear without a trace……

📖: What would an event/story featuring them be like?

It’s a good thing I’ve actually been thinking about this for a while already! But basically, I was thinking an event based on the film noir genre (similar to 1.2 essentially), since it ties in her theming.

The event is called “Quilted Shadows, Golden Guile” (yes I named it) and the storyline focuses on the layers of deception that can form in the social circles of wealthy/high class people in order for personal goals to be achieved. Lady Clef is seen as the main antagonist of the event, when she’s actually a victim of the true villain too (she’s still not a good person though). Oh and spoilers: Tennant makes a cameo (cuz double the toxic yuri, double the fun)

Since Lady Clef is one of the event 6 stars, she has a character story game called “Smoke and Mirrors”, which is kind of her villain origin story, and a meaningful choices mini game where you try to gain fondness from the right people at a fancy social gathering as Lady Clef. Special cameo characters have special effects too! (Special characters are: Tennant, Centurion, and Ringmaster (the second event 6 star, I just didn’t feel like fleshing him out))

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Verdigris:

🧠: What was their original character concept? Do they have any specific theming?

Oh when I tell you I struggled when creating her. She was kind of a mess of different parts for a while, and I couldn’t figure out how her personality should be (all I could think of was “calm”, as a contrast to a canon character). But I eventually landed on the concept of a steampunk inventor who builds and creates new prosthetic/mechanical limbs for people. Her arcanum can create a special plant fiber that she incorporates into her inventions for elasticity and strength to the mechanical joints. Verdigris has also created these blobby critters called Dendrogues out of the same plant fiber to cure her loneliness.

📖: What would an event/story featuring them be like?

Even though I’ve pondered about this for Verdigris as well, I do have less of a clear concept when it comes to this one. The thought process is that she’s part of a story chapter since I had the thought of a specific angst between her and a childhood friend of hers where the “Storm” needs to be involved.

ANYWAYS, I was thinking maybe the storyline revolves around something to do with the arcanum in the woods near her home? The woods that bring back memories, better left in the depths of brambles. Yet an odd sense of comfort and serenity is felt by Verdigris here.

Though it might make more sense for it to have something to do with a historical event. Idk, I’ll think on that, cuz I don’t have any coherent enough ideas for it yet (there will be yuri tho, that’s all I know for sure).

#phew #this got very long #very fast #it happens every time #maybe read this in more than one sitting if that helps #I’ve held in all of this info that the second I get a chance to share it #it kinda just #*SPLAT*#y’know?#reverse 1999 headcanons #r1999 #r1999 oc #info dump #long post #Lady Clef r1999 #Verdigris r1999 #oc lore

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godlizzza · 8 months

Note

stop me if this is too angsty but. in couple down the street vers. how would dan respond to herbs untimely (and unreversible) death? or vice versa if you think that's more interesting. (unreversible can mean that the reagent fails or the body is damaged beyond use or whatever else you can think of). if you don't wanna write something that sad, how would they manage in the long-term if one of them underwent a successful reanimation?

There had been a time when Herbert had never dreamed he would share a bed with someone. Sleep was already something he abhorred- such a damnable wasted of time that could be better spent elsewhere. The thought of being at his most vulnerable and having another person there for extended hours had made him want to gag.

But that was before Dan.

After fifteen years of marriage, he had grown accustomed to the reassuring weight of Dan's body dipping the mattress, his warmth seeping into Herbert while they peacefully slept in each other's arms.

Now, he felt the absence of it like a severed limb. Their bed seemed impossibly huge without Dan there beside him, the sheets a stiff glacial face without Dan there to warm them. Herbert always found himself waking to find his arm stretched out across the mattress, as though seeking out something that wasn't there. Every day was a numbing blow as he remembered and it crashed down on him all over again.

He had rarely slept in the two weeks since it had happened. It had been years since he'd used the re-agent as a stimulant, but without Dan's disapproving glare to convince him otherwise, it was easy to forgo climbing into his marital bed alone and letting vicious nightmares take him. Besides, he needed the nights to think.

The mornings were the hardest, not just because of waking up alone or going through the motions of getting ready for work when he had no desire to go, but because of the oppressive silence. Usually, Dan's voice would be in his ear, mumbling a sleepy, "Good morning," followed by a kiss. He'd be the one chatting away as he made coffee, cracking awful jokes to try and get Herbert to smile. He always did, much to his annoyance and Dan's delight.

But now Dan's voice was gone, and with it any chance of cheer at a new day. Herbert was left to sit at the cold marble counter alone, forcing himself to eat. He had no appetite but knew he would be useless if he collapsed from lack of energy. A few times he'd tried playing music from the radio but it was no better. Every song reminded him of Dan- a song he liked, a song he'd sing in the car or in the shower, a song he'd play in the operating room and bounce his eyebrows to as he cut into flesh. On one occasion the radio had had the audacity to play Islands in the Stream, causing Herbert to wordlessly cross the room and smash the radio against the hardwood floor.

The days were long. The nights longer. Their house felt like a prison, trapped with memories that threatened to drown Herbert in despair. Herbert had never realised until then his reason for living could be taken away from him. That every breath he drew was in service of being with Dan, and without him there it was a chore to remember.

Life was tedious and pointless, all the daily motions dragging at his feet. He often felt the desire to simply fall to the floor and never get up again. But he couldn't do that. If he did, then Dan would truly be lost to him forever.

It was some weeks after the incident when a knock came at the door, startling Herbert out of the mountain of notes he'd been scribbling. He stood gingerly, his knees and back cracking from being sat, stooped over, for so long. He stepped around the piles of papers he'd haphazardly stacked around the living room and made his way to the front door. He peered through the peephole and sighed when he saw who it was.

"Piper," was all he said when he opened the door on his young protégée.

Piper's huge eyes stared up at him from beneath her fringe of blonde hair. Her chin was bowed to her chest and her hands were clasped tightly in front of her. She looked like a child wearily preparing for a scolding.

"Hi, Dr. West," she said nervously. "Um, how are you?"

Herbert stared at her without blinking. "How do you think?"

Piper flinched though he'd put no venom into the words. "Um...terrible?"

"Correct," he answered and stepped aside. "Come in."

She did and he shut the door behind her. She glanced slowly around the house and Herbert could only imagine how it- and he- must have looked to her. Dan had always insisted on keeping the house clean, but Herbert hadn't been able to muster up the motivation on his own, especially when he was in the middle of something far more important. This disregard for appearances extended to himself as well. He hadn't shaved in weeks, causing his jaw to be speckled with growing stubble. His use of the re-agent as a means of not sleeping had left his skin with an odd, waxy pallor and deep shadows beneath his eyes. It had been days since he'd last showered or brushed his teeth, and he'd been practically living in Dan's old Red Sox jersey.

"What is all of this?" Piper asked, picking up one of the many papers lining the living room and kitchen.

Herbert watched her as she read. She seemed to grow taller every time Herbert saw her. It had been a few years since he'd taken her under his wing, nursing her mind to be capable of things girls her age couldn't even comprehend. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, tucked behind her ears and revealing two sparkling studs in her earlobes. Her body had been stretched taught, her wrists and ankles rail-thin with her latest growth spurt. The sparkly pink unicorn t-shirts and frilly skirts she once wore were replaced with a knitted sweater and denim shorts. She was growing, Herbert realised. Getting older. Soon she would be in middle school.

"Dr. West..."

Her voice was uncertain as she turned back around to face him, her eyebrows knitted with concern. She glanced from the paper in her hands and back up to him before swallowing. "This is- This sounds like a theory to-?"

"Come with me," Herbert told her, instantly starting down the hall. "I have something to show you."

It was a moment before he heard her tentative footsteps following him. When they reached the door leading down to the basement, he whirled on her.

"You haven't told your parents anything about what happened, have you?" he demanded.

"N-No," she stuttered, her shoulders locked up around her ears. "I haven't told anyone, just like you said."

Herbert released a breath, his hand paused on the doorknob. "Good. We can't let anyone know. That would...complicate things."

"But, Dr. West, why? I still don't understand why."

"In a moment you will," Herbert promised and opened the door.

He descended into the misty green glow of the lab, followed by Piper. Once inside, he stepped over to the operating table. He'd placed a billowing white sheet over it, covering the contents beneath. When he turned to face Piper again the girl's eyes were locked onto the lumpy shape under the sheet.

"Piper," he began. "I should apologise to you. The past few weeks have probably been quite confusing for you."

She looked at him with watery eyes, her mouth pressed into a thin, straight line to fight the wobbles in her lip. She had been with him when the re-animation had gone wrong. It was a blur in his mind still, only snatches of memory from that cursed night invading his dreams. But he perfectly remembered the lab in a complete mess, the cadaver's face crushed in by the shovel in his hand, and Dan. Dan lying in the middle of the floor, his body something out of a horror.

Herbert had sworn Piper to secrecy before sending her away, screaming at her to get out. She hadn't returned since, perhaps waiting for Herbert to reach out to her first or even assuming that her apprenticeship was over.

"I'm sorry," she whispered now. "It was all my fault. If Dr. Cain hadn't been trying to protect me, he wouldn't have-"

"Shh," Herbert hissed, and she clamped her mouth shut. "None of that matters now. What matters is me knowing if I can depend on your help."

"Of course," Piper rushed to say. "But with what?"

"With this," Herbert said and pulled the sheet to flutter to the floor.

Piper sucked in a horrified gasp. On the cold slab lay Dan's remains. Herbert had done his best to repair what damage he could; he'd sewn up the gashes along his chest and stomach, he'd reattached Dan's jaw and stitched the skin along his throat back together, and cleaned all the blood (some his own, some not) that had been sprayed across him. There was little he could do about the arm and leg that had been ripped off. The limbs had been destroyed in the struggle, so Herbert had had to settle on pinching off the exposed arteries and veins, leaving the bone protruding from his shoulder and the stump of his thigh on display.

From the neck down, he was a mangled mess, but if Herbert concentrated on his face, he could imagine he was just asleep. That's all it really was anyway, Herbert thought as he stroked Dan's cheek. A long sleep. A coma. One he would wake up from with a little help.

"I- What is-?" Piper fumbled to say, seemingly unable to rip her eyes away from Dan.

Herbert placed two soft kisses over Dan's closed eyelids before straightening up. He ran his thumb along the inside of his fingers, brushing where his and Dan's wedding rings were stacked above his knuckle.

"We're going to bring him back," Herbert told Piper.

Her eyes finally bounced to him, wide and wild. "But that's impossible. His body's too damaged. Besides, he's been dead for too long."

Herbert didn't wince at the word dead. He had long ago learnt that death was not the end, merely a state of being. One that was difficult to come back from, but not impossible.

"I applied a balm to him. It's something Dan tinkered with for quite some time but the end product is remarkable. It'll keep his body from decaying and give us time to find him the parts he needs."

"But Dr. West," Piper stammered. "We've never done anything like this before. I mean, building a new body?"

"Dan and I did it once, half a lifetime ago," Herbert said, his mind flashing back to that house they'd shared in Arkham and the bride they'd built there. He closed his eyes and shook away the memory of her cracked and crying voice melting along with the rest of her. He blinked and focused on Dan's serene face. "With all the knowledge we've gained since then, it'll be simple."

"But his injuries," Piper tried to argue. "His heart was torn."

"And can be easily replaced," Herbert snapped. "Along with the rest. It's his brain that's important. He faced minimal head trauma. A fractured skull but no damage to the brain. He'll be able to be brought back."

When Piper spoke again it was so softly, Herbert nearly didn't hear her. She was looking at the floor, away from Dan's remains, when she said, "But is that what Dr. Cain would want?"

Anger coursed through Herbert's veins, sudden and hot. He slammed his hand down on the operating table, his palm landing beside Dan's grazed ankle with a mighty slap. Piper jumped, shying away from the furious look Herbert turned on her.

"Don't you tell me what he would want!" he yelled, his voice cracking and straining after weeks of silence. "I know him more than you could ever hope to. Everything in this world, we've experienced together. He was mine. You hear me? Mine and no one else's. So don't you dare tell me what he would want." His breath rasped out of him as Piper hid her face in her hands. "What he wants," he corrected.

He blinked and shook his head against the black spots dotting his vision. He'd been awake nearly fifty-two hours and his mind was beginning to slip. He had to grip the edge of the table for a minute, the cold metal biting into his fingertips, before the world swam back into focus and he straightened himself up. He turned once more to Piper, who was watching him from between her fingers.

"Piper," he tried again. "You know, Dan never wanted to take you on. He thought bringing a child into our work was a terrible idea. But he did it anyway, because he had faith in me and I had that same faith in you." He pursed his lips as he considered her. "Are you going to tell me now that that faith was misplaced?"

"No!" Piper cried out, letting go of her face to clamber forward and throw her arms around Herbert. She buried her face in his shoulder, squeezing him tight with her skinny arms. "I'm sorry, Dr. West. You can count on me."

Herbert smiled down at her and patted the top of her head soothingly. She had a brilliant mind for her age, but she was also crushingly predictable. She could hold the secrets of life and death in her hands, but she would also always be a little girl, seeking approval and praise from him.

"I hope so," he said. "I need you, Piper. Dan needs you. He needs both of us."

She tipped her head up to sniffle at him, her eyes red and puffy with tears. "I wanna help."

"Good," Herbert said softly.

Piper released him and stepped back, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "But how? Where are we gonna find new parts for him?"

"Where do you think?"

He swept away from her, approaching the double-door steel freezer shoved against the far wall. He opened one door and reached inside the waft of cool air that hit him until he found what he was looking for and extracted it. He turned, the metal bowl filled with ice cupped neatly in his hands, and showed Piper his prize. She didn't gasp this time as she looked upon the perfectly preserved foot, sawed off at the ankle.

"A foot," she said simply, staring as Herbert slipped on a pair of gloves and placed the foot on the operating table, next to Dan's other foot.

"Yes," Herbert agreed. "A size eleven. It belonged to a thirty-nine-year-old male. A near-perfect fit."

"You got it from the hospital?" Piper inquired, squatting down to blink at the pale soles.

"I did," Herbert said. "The man was brought in with a compound fracture to the tibia he suffered during a multiple-collision car accident. He had nerve damage all along his Achilles tendon and unfortunately, we had to amputate."

Piper frowned as she inspected the amputation site. "Really? The Achilles looks fine to me."

"That's because it is," Herbert told her sharply. "But he doesn't know that. As far as his chart is concerned, the foot was unsalvageable."

It took a moment for his meaning to sink in and her mouth fell open. "You mean you...You stole it?"

He stared at her coolly. He didn't look away, didn't falter. He let her stare into his eyes and see the resolution there. Only when he didn't immediately jump to defend himself did Piper close her mouth.

"Think of it as an organ donation." Herbert said. "Besides, it's not so bad. The amputation was below the knee. With a good prosthetic, he'll walk again." He folded his hands behind his back and rotated so he was looking down at Dan, now with one piece closer to being whole again. "I couldn't take the rest of his leg. He was too short. I won't have Dan coming back as some malformed thing. It has to be perfect. You need to understand, Piper, that this isn't some foolish game. This is the most important thing you or I will ever do."

She stepped up to his side and he glanced down at her. Her gaze was fixed on the foot, exactly the same length as Dan's.

"You'll have to do things you may not want to do," he said, making his voice softer now. "Do you understand?"

She nodded mutely and reached out to grasp his hand. He gripped her hand in return.

"To help Dr. Cain," she said in an odd tone, and Herbert nodded.

"That's right. We have to do everything in our power to help him, then everything can go back to the way it was before."

"Right," Piper said shakily, rapidly blinking her lashes.

"And we'll have to work quickly as well. I wrote into the hospital on Dan's computer, telling them he's suffered a death in the family. They've put him on compassionate leave, but that'll only last so long. It's only a matter of time before someone realises he's gone, and then suspicion will automatically fall on me." He glanced down at their matching wedding rings on his finger and sighed. "It's always the husband."

"Don't worry, Dr. West," Piper said, staring up at him with an expression of determination fixed on her face. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. And we'll fix Dr. Cain."

Herbert smiled for the first time in weeks. It wasn't the same smile that Dan would draw out of him but it was a smile, nonetheless.

"Yes, we will," he said.

He looked at Dan, his husband, his partner in life and death, and felt his resolve steel. Their time on this Earth wasn't over yet. 'Til death do we part, they had said to each other fifteen years ago, but Herbert supposed he had lied. He wasn't going to let an insignificant thing like death come between them.

"I know it."

#this got real long phew #i did enjoy a foray into angst #basically i think if dan died herbert would go full mr freeze/hawk moth and preserve his body in his evil lair #i almost wrote this from dans pov with herbert being the one who died #both would be intense tbh #also this is NOT tcdts canon just to be clear haha #dan is fine #danbert #dan cain #herbert west #piper skrelpton #the couple down the street #my fics #asks #writing prompt #ANGST.

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sunshinediaz · 3 months

Text

some of my personal fav eddie hcs 🫶🏼

he's the oldest cousin and only boy so he doesn't know what it's like to have any older siblings, but when he met hen and chimney, he felt for the first time what it was like to be taken care of as a younger brother and he's never ever going to take it for granted

it took him a while to grieve his wife, but eventually he brings shannon's things out of storage and puts them out all over the house. sometimes it hurts, but it's all worth it when he gets to answer his son's questions about where the eccentric iron armadillo came from

when shannon found out she was pregnant, she told eddie and they decided to run away. it was fun while it lasted, but eventually they ran out of money and had to return home. he'll forever treasure those few weeks they had together; it was their happiest time.

shannon loved music, so when he's missing her he'll put on the songs she liked and dance all over the house with christopher

he LOVES watching movies at the theater and often goes alone in the mornings after he drops chris off at school. he stops at the dollar store first and get snacks and puts them in his boots to sneak them in

he's queer (it's easier than explaining the complexities of being bi and on the ace spectrum) and he's known since he was 20 years old. it wasn't a sudden realization; it hit him slowly, like snow falling one by one. he's comfortable in his queerness and he has support from his family.

he wore his wedding ring even after shannon died. he lost it, though, and he went to a pawn shop to buy another one, and then buried it next to her grave when he finally felt ready to let her go

what sold him on the 118 after graduating the academy was how hard bobby fought for him without even knowing him. he didn't have to prove himself. it was nice.

he doesn't want anymore children. he didn't even want christopher, honestly, but it takes two to tango and shannon was excited and he was, too, even though it took him a while to wrap his head around the idea of being a dad.

bobby and buck are his emergency contacts.

he used to wear his abuelo's boots because the man was a real-life cowboy and eddie wanted to grow up to be just like him

he used to love thunderstorms but after buck's accident he doesn't like them much anymore + listens to music when it's late and the thunder's too loud

he has his childhood dog's name tattooed on his leg

his favorite flower is magnolias. he likes dark chocolate covered strawberries and buys two dozen for himself every valentine's day. he brews his own sweet tea. he leaves his tomatoes on the windowsill to sun and ripen further.

bobby's like a dad to him, the kind he deserved

he had a little crush on linda when he was at dispatch (and buck LOVED it)

he loves buck, like that, but his heart's big enough for more than buck buckley and he's enjoyed every relationship he's had that led him and buck to one another

when buck proposes and they start planning their wedding, he turns into bridezilla. groomzilla?

he is a sassy dude. his mouth gets him in trouble sometimes, but he says stuff so dryly and blandly people look over it. it drives chim up the wall.

he dances with maddie at her and chim's wedding, and jee-yun, too, who stands on his shoes

he tries really hard to be normal when christopher starts dating, but it's hard when it's the kid of abbie jean gentry, pta president and eddie's sworn enemy

he visits shannon's grave often and talks with her. she's dead but he isn't gone, not when he can see her in their son's smile and hear her in their son's laughter, and he likes to tell her what chris is up to even though he's pretty sure she's watching

he loves cartoons. LOVES them, i'm so serious. i can't stress enough how INTO cartoons he is, okay.

buck said kissed him first and decided they were going on a date. eddie went batshit, didn't go to the date because he was making a list of all the reasons why he and buck shouldn't be together, and buck finds him in his kitchen and he's pissy, and eddie shows him in the list, and on it there's 'buck keeps his loft on 68. cold.' and 'buck uses too much onion powder' and 'buck doesn't wear socks to bed and he sticks his cold feet on me' and buck just laughs and laughs and laughs because they're terrible for each other, kinda, but that's what makes them perfect for each other, too. losers.

his favorite color is green and when apple came out with a green iphone he was so excited he squealed

he's a fan of country music. not that new age, jason aldean, toby keith did to country music what pantyhose did to fingerfucking type shit, but the real country music, full of outlaws and rebels and rednecks. it's one of his roman empires.

his favorite movies are twister, titanic, without a paddle, dirty dancing, and dazed and confused

patrick swayze in roadhouse was his Awakening

he enjoys sex, even with the people he had one night stands with, and doesn't care whether he tops or bottoms because it feels good regardless. he does tend to lean toward the (soft) dominant side of things, which his partners respond to beautifully

he was born 31 october 1991

he was held back a grade in middle school to give him another year of eligibility of playing baseball in high school

he was a member of ffa, held office as sentinel all throughout high school, and supports the organization still. chris is in 4h, but the high school he wants to go to has an active ffa program and eddie's really excited about it

he's soft and so full of love he doesn't know what to do with it sometimes. it just spills out of him, splashing at his feet and flooding everybody around him. he doesn't hold it in anymore because he likes the way people respond to him when they realize he's sharing his love, all smiles and acceptance and unconditional love in response

#under a cut because it got LONG #this has been in my drafts for. three months now i believe?#been adding to it every once in a while and there's SO much more i haven't added but phew this is a start #eddie diaz #911 #amanda talks #my hcs

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