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to-thelakes · 1 month

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exhausted

pairing; frank castle x fem!reader (mentions of matt murdock)

summary; after you lose your cool at matt and frank, frank comes to see you and helps you get some much-needed rest

warnings; initial angst, a smidge of hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic frank castle, soft frank castle, exhausted reader, insomniac reader, discussion of nightmares

notes; this one-shot is an oldie but a goodie, i keep reading back and looking at some one-shots i've previously written and i think this one is good enough that i can share it with the world, i wrote it initially with sharing it in mind so i might as well do it! also this one-shot thingie was inspired by a one-shot i saw here on tumblr, the beginning of this is pretty similar to the one i read so if anyone knows what fic i'm referencing, i'd love to be able to credit who inspired this! otherwise, this is just some comforting frank content because i am an avid insomniac and sometimes you just need the big scary punisher to help you fall asleep

masterlist

You weren’t entirely sure how it had happened but at some point between knowing Matt and Frank, you had become their nurse. Of course, you didn’t particularly mind. Matt had always been kind to you and you enjoyed his company. He was a little flirty but you were used to it and you could lament in your misery with him.

With Frank, he had saved you from some criminals months ago and you had been freaking out. He did his best to calm you down before walking you home and after a particularly bad night, Matt brought Frank to you to patch up. Honestly, you didn’t mind their company and you didn’t mind patching them up.

Ever since you’d moved on from being a Nurse, you’d refound your passion for caring for people but only if it was Frank or Matt. But you also hated taking care of them. Despite having a relatively normal life and sleep schedule compared to when you were a nurse, you were still woken up in the middle of the night by them.

It had been a quiet night for you. You’d finished work and curled up on your bed to drift off and you had. It had been a blissful sleep until you were rudely awoken by your phone ringing. You wanted to tell whoever it was to leave you the fuck alone but when you saw it was Matt, you answered. He asked if you could come over and help patch Frank and him up.

You - reluctantly - agreed since he was only a block over. You didn’t want them bloody up your apartment and so with a great huff, you got out of bed. You changed into comfortable clothes and then grabbed your kit for nights like these and headed to Matt’s place.

Getting in wasn’t hard even in your exhausted and sleepy daze. You managed to find your way up to the fire escape where the two men were sitting. Well, Frank was sat, leaning against the vent, cradling a wound while Matt stood. He was pacing in his Daredevil costume and he looked frustrated. It was practically radiating off of him.

They both looked pretty bruised and yet, they were still arguing. It took you a minute to catch on to the conversation but the second you did you sighed.

“You gotta let me do my shit, altar boy. I don’t give a shit what you can sense, I know what I’m doing and we would have been fine if you hadn’t stopped me from doing my goddamn job,” Frank raged as he stared up at Matt. His hand was pressed against the wound on his side and yet his jaw still flexed with obvious annoyance.

“If you had just listened to me then we would have been fine! You never listen, I can hear more than you can. I can hear their guns, Frank. If you had just shut your damn mouth for one goddamn second, it would have been fine!” Matt snapped in response. His annoyance was radiating off of him and you just looked between them. You weren’t entirely convinced that even of them had realised you were there but you knew Matt could smell you.

“I listen fucking plenty. I knew what I was getting my sorry ass into but you just have to be the fucking saviour, don’t you Red? Always a hero,” Frank scoffed. His tone was scathing and he winced when the pain only seemed to get worse. The irritation that Matt waking you up had began only seemed to grow as you listened to them continue to bicker back and forth about who was right and who was responsible for Frank’s wound. And why Red just couldn’t have listened to Frank for one goddamn minute.

It was probably five minutes of bickering and you had finally had enough. You dropped your kit bag onto the floor and suddenly, both of their attentions snapped to you.

“You are both so insufferable!” You snapped suddenly, glaring between the two men, “I get my ass out of bed after working all fucking day for you two to be bickering like three-year-olds over something that doesn’t fucking matter anymore. Take my shit and patch yourself up. I’m done with this.” Your anger only seemed to grow and you watched as both Matt and Frank’s face fell. You stepped back from the pair of them, “Ungrateful bastards,” You muttered as you headed back to the fire escape and towards Matt’s apartment.

“Hey(!), sweetheart,” Frank’s voice made you pause in your steps. If his next words weren’t an apology, you were going to scream, “Don’t gotta be so fucking moody. Didn’t even see ya.” That was it and you turned on your heel to face them again.

“I couldn’t give a shit if you didn’t see me Frank. I know sure as hell that Matt could smell me before I even got onto the fucking roof. And I’m sure his senses will tell him that I haven’t showered in three days because I’ve been so busy with my new fucking workload that I have barely had the chance to take care of myself. This is the first evening that I haven’t had to work late for my asshole boss and I finally managed to get some sleep until you assholes had to wake me up because you can never work together! I honestly don’t care what happens to you next time. If one of you gets bloody and bruised, don’t fucking call me. Lose my number, both of you.” And with that final word, you walked off the roof and down to Matt’s apartment. You felt like crying, the irritation had seeped into frustration and the tears were blurring your vision as you pulled the apartment door open.

“Sweetheart,” Matt’s voice was so soft as he rushed over to you in the doorway. Your head snapped up so that he could look at you or you assumed he was, you could tell where he was looking with that stupid mask on, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called,” Matt’s voice had softened significantly as he was looking at you.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” You bit back. Matt’s lips turned down into a frown. He suddenly had no idea what to say. He had never seen you like this. Even when you were stressed and overworked as a nurse, you always had this sunny disposition to everything that you did. This was new, he hated it because he knew it was his fault.

“Please, how can I fix this?” Matt asked and you rolled your eyes. The apartment door still open in front of you.

“I told you, lose my number,” You snapped. Matt frowned but before he could even say anything, you were gone. He let out a frustrated huff and he listened as you walked to the elevator and disappeared down to street-level. He didn’t know what to do now.

The weekend eventually rolled around and you were relaxing for the first time in a very long time. You were curled up on the couch, watching trash TV with a pizza from your favourite take-out on the coffee table. It was the ideal day.

Well, that was until you heard a knock at your apartment door. A soft huff escaped your lips and you unfurled yourself from your cocoon of blankets to answer it. When you pulled the door open, the last person you expected stood on the other side. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in Frank Castle in all his broad glory with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your favourite flowers no doubt. You didn’t even know what to say.

“Ya said don’t call,” Frank began and then he held out the flowers, “So I came over instead.” There was a slight softness to his words and it made you let out a soft chuckle. You shook your head but took the bouquet from his hands.

“Thank you,” You mumbled before gesturing for him to come in. The trashy TV show you had on was playing as you grabbed a vase from under the sink and ripped the wrapping from around the flowers. You then grabbed some scissors from the drawer and Frank watched as you snipped the ends at a diagonal and placed them into the water before adding the packet of food.

“M’sorry about the other night,” Frank said after a few beats of silence. You shrugged and rearranged the flowers and when you were happy enough with them, you took them over to the windowsill to replace the faux flowers you had put there weeks ago, “I really appreciate everything’ ya do for me,” He said as he watched you move. You shrugged and wrapped your arms around yourself, moving to sit down on your sofa. You didn’t want to have this conversation.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You said firmly. Frank sighed and he glanced at the door, not sure whether you wanted him to leave or stay. You glanced back at him expectantly and so he walked over, sitting down on the couch beside you. You grabbed a slice of pizza and offered it to him. He found himself smiling as he took it from your hands.

“M’really sorry, I didn’t-” But before Frank could get any further you put your hand up to silence him. Then your gaze turned on him and he looked back at you.

“Frank, I seriously don’t wanna think about it. Just eat your pizza and shut up,” You told him as you reached out for another slice for yourself. He grunted in response and you seemed pleased with that. You shuffled back, pulling blankets over your shoulder with your free hand before you took a bite out of the pizza. Frank was sitting on one of the blankets on the sofa but you didn’t bother to say anything as you ate.

Your gaze was fixed on the TV. There was about to be an elimination from the show and although you didn’t care for many of the contestants, there was one guy that you wanted to get kicked out. He had the most infuriating personality and had treated every girl like an object since he had been introduced. He rubbed you the wrong way and so, you watched with bated breath to see if he would finally be kicked out.

And he was. Frank noticed the victorious grin on your face as he leaned over for another slice of pizza. You let him grab it as you finished your slice off. Then you shuffled on the sofa and adjusted the blankets around your shoulder again.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You broke the silence between the pair of you. The sound of the TV was the only thing that was filling the air until that.

He glanced over at you before he shook his head, letting out a grunt of disagreement. You nodded and then pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulder, “I’ve had a really stressful week at work, I’ve not been sleeping well and I thought that when I quit my job at Metro General my late nights would end. That I would be able to sleep properly again. But you and Matt changed that and I don’t mind. I usually don’t mind at all but this week, I just- I couldn’t do it. I had dragged myself out of sleep which I had barely been able to get into and then you both just bickered. And I really don’t mind helping either of you. I like helping you both but I just can’t do it right now.”

You were rambling, you knew you were rambling but you felt like Frank deserved an explanation. He was injured and you had left him to be stitched up by Matt. It felt cruel but you were also exhausted. Not even by them, just by life.

“You don’t gotta explain,” Frank said after a beat. You looked up at him, he had a sorrowful look on his face. It was almost guilty-looking and you didn’t want him to feel guilty. A soft huff escaped your lips as you ran your fingers across your face.

“No, I do because I didn’t have to blow up at you guys. I didn’t have to be so rude. I could have just left but I made a scene and it wa-” Frank cut you off before you got a chance to finish your sentence.

“Ya had every right to shout. We dragged you outta bed for somethin’ that we coulda handled on our own. You were angry and shit, I woulda said worse. You can’t bottle that shit up, you know?” He responded as he looked down at you. You let out a soft sigh, running your fingers through your hair. You didn’t know what to even say.

“I’m just so tired, Frank,” You mumbled. It had been weighing on you all week and it was the first time you had let yourself admit it. You were so exhausted. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. The tension in the room seemed to increase tenfold at the submission and Frank was silently observing you as you reached for a pizza slice, hoping to distract your exhaustion-addled mind. It was too much.

“Lie down for a bit, yeah?” He said and you looked up at him, confusion etched across your features. Almost bemused by his words.

“I’ve tried that Frank. Plus, it’s too early,” You mumbled before you took a bite of your pizza. He shook his head and closed the pizza box on the coffee table. He then reached for the TV remote and he switched it off.

“Nah, enough of this shit. We’re gonna lie down and I’ll make sure you get some goddamn sleep. alright?” There was no room to argue with him and as he stood up, looming above you, you weren’t entirely sure you had the bravery to. So, you simply nodded your head. You placed the half-eaten pizza slice into the box and then got to your feet, leaving your cocoon of blankets on the sofa so you could go to bed, “You gonna brush your teeth?” He asked. You nodded your head. Even though you had just eaten, you had to make sure that they were brushed before you went to bed and so, Frank lingered in the doorway as you brushed your teeth, “Red’s gonna give you shit when he finds out about this, sweetheart,” Frank commented off-handedly. You spat some toothpaste into the sink before you glanced over at him.

“He can smell when I last showered, I think he already knows,” You muttered before you finished brushing your teeth. You grabbed the towel and washed the toothpaste off your mouth, washing your mouth out with water before you stepped back. You were already in pyjamas so you were ready for bed.

“Yeah, that’s what he tells ya,” Frank mumbled as you headed towards your bedroom. Frank slipped his boots off at the foot of your bed and discarded his jacket on top of your dresser before he glanced over at you.

“Are you sleeping in the bed too?” You asked tentatively. Frank turned to look at you, cocking an eyebrow.

“That a problem?” He asked curiously. You shook your head and he nodded, “You been gettin’ nightmares?” His question caught you completely off-guard and you just stared at him, dumb-founded from the side of your bed. He huffed out in mild amusement, “You were an ER nurse, gives its own scars,” He shrugged. You sighed and rubbed your hands across your face.

“It’s not nightmares. It’s just not dreams either. I can just hear flatlining and feel blood and I’m running down corridors, plagued by the clean smell of the hospital. It’s sterile and I wake up and I swear I can smell it,” You mumbled, trying your best to explain the experiences. You hated calling them nightmares because nothing scary happened. It was just your feelings and memories of the place you used to love.

“You wake up scared?” He asked as he walked over to the opposite side of the bed. You nodded your head, “Then it’s a nightmare. When did your dirtbag ex break up with you?” You didn’t seem to understand how that correlated but it had been only a month ago. It coincided with the exact time you began to have issues sleeping.

“A month ago. I’ve not been a nurse for months. Why is that relevant?” You asked as you decided to pull the covers back but you didn’t get in.

“You’re sleeping alone, sweetheart. Does things to you especially when you’re not used to,” He stated blankly. It seemed to dawn on you why he knew this and you just stared at him for a moment, not sure whether to apologise or offer sympathy but he didn’t give you a chance, “Now let’s get you some sleep, hm?” You smiled thankfully and slipped under the covers. Frank slipped under them beside you and you pulled them up to your shoulder.

Then you grabbed onto the pillow, adjusting it under your head. Frank was facing you, his hands resting in front of him as yours rested under your head. He watched you adjust and get comfortable before you let out a sigh.

“I always hated sleeping alone,” You mumbled after a moment of silence, “When I was a kid, my little brother would always get nightmares and so we’d sleep in the same bed. Then, by the time he had grown out of that habit, I was old enough that I was going to high school and my parents began to - reluctantly - let my partner stay over. Then, I went to college and I basically spent every night with someone in my bed whether that was a friend or someone I was dating. I never really got used to sleeping alone, I guess.” Although Frank didn’t have the exact same feeling as you as he had slept alone plenty of times while he was on tours, he understood what you meant. After he lost Maria, he found it impossible to sleep alone. The nightmares tormented him. It got better with time but never really truly better. It’s the main reason why he pushed his body to the point of collapse. Then he didn’t have to worry about trying to fall asleep alone. It just happened because his body didn’t give him a choice. You had started to do the same.

“Just try and get some sleep tonight, yeah?” He suggested. You nodded and you let your eyes fall closed. He shifted on the bed before he let his eyes close as well. You sighed and felt your eyes forcing themselves back open. They didn’t want to stay closed and after a few more minutes of desperately trying to keep them closed, you rolled onto your back.

And you stared at the ceiling like you had for so many nights over the past few months. You were never able to sleep, when you woke up from sleep, you just stared. You had memorised every crack in the shitty ceiling and now there was nothing new to look at. You didn’t know what was wrong with you but you hated it.

“Hey,” Frank said softly. It was so quiet that you almost missed it and then you turned your head to the side to look at him, “You gotta tell me what ya need if I’m gonna help,” You knew what you needed but you weren’t about to ask Frank for it. This was already crossing the bounds of your friendship and you felt almost disrespectful even doing this but he seemed insistent. His eyes were burning into the side of your head.

“My ex used to…” You trailed off, not sure whether to say it. Frank grunted in a somewhat encouraging way as he shuffled towards you, “They used to cuddle with me when I couldn’t sleep and they’d… God I can’t ask this of you.” You cut yourself off before you could finish your sentence. Your hands pressed over your face, embarrassment flooding your face in the form of heat crawling up your neck and across your cheeks. This was too much.

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” He brought your hands away from your face and you turned to look at him, meeting his soft gaze, “I don’t give a shit if it’s embarrassing, tell me.” His words were firm and you sighed, taking a deep breath before you turned over onto your side so that you could look at him properly again.

“They’d like hold me against their chest, like my forehead against their chest and then they’d run their fingers across my arm. It just always relaxed me,” You finally admitted. Frank smiled softly, not even caring what you were asking of him. Instead, he shuffled forward on the bed and brought you towards him.

“Come ‘ere,” He mumbled. You shuffled into him and with a tentative breath, you rested your forehead against his chest. One of his hands rested under his head while the other moved to rest against the back of your arm. He drew you closer and you gave in, letting your body mold against his. His fingers slowly began to trace along the skin on the back of your arm.

A soft breath of relief escaped your lips, the familiar touch cooled your nervous system in seconds. Your eyes fell closed, tension releasing at the movements as you moved your arms around Frank. Your hand draped over his hip as you felt exhaustion return to your body after you had fought it away all day.

“Thank you,” You muttered under your breath. Your voice was slower than before, sleep ready to take you as you relaxed into his hold.

“Sleep well, sweetheart,” He mumbled against your hair as he rested against you. His touch against your skin was the last thing you remembered before the bliss of sleep took you in.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x you #frank castle fluff #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x female reader #the punisher fluff #the punisher x reader #reader-insert #matt murdock #daredevil

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faeriekit · 1 year

Text

The Firstborn Son

dp x dc | Batman 👻 tw for: dead body, brief reference to human trafficking

(Part II available now!)

****

Once upon a time, there is a boy who dies forever...mostly.

****

Once upon a time, there is a man who wants to live forever.

He does.

****

Once upon a time, there is a daughter born to an immortal man.

"I need an heir," her father commands.

She gives him one.

****

Once upon a time, there is a King.

(He is a dead boy.)

(Most do not know that.)

"My heir, for a hundred years of your power," the immortal offers; the King accepts.

****

Once upon a time, there was a family of acrobats.

There isn't, not anymore, but the son still loves his mother and father, and gravity cannot steal his wings forever.

He sleeps restlessly, and rarely in his own bed. The allure of flying is too much to resist. At night, when the world is quiet, the acrobat joins the black darkness of an endless sky, and claims it as his own.

His guardian is one with the night.

The petit Robin is bright light and spectacle, no matter how well he hides his colors. He is spotted first.

****

Dick didn't really remember waking up from his nap. Alfred had put him down for a cold; his head hurt, and he was sleepy all the time, so B was out without him and Dick was stuck in a too-big bed in a giant, dark mansion, all alone.

Except. At some point, Dick must have gotten out of bed. Because now he's in the chandelier.

Dick doesn't remember jumping to the chandelier. And jumping to the chandelier is hard work; it's not something he could have done in his sleep. It requires weight, heft; the shirking of gravity. The night is dark around him; there are no street lights outside of their windows to light up the hallway. The darkness makes the grand persian carpet so much farther away than it is in the daytime-- entirely, unfathomably far below him. Pale moonlight flickers across cut shards of crystal. It's Dick's own little bird's nest.

Dick and the chandelier gently sway. He doesn't notice the-- the ghost, the illusion-- for a whole minute. It just looks like moonlight, until it doesn't.

It's a body. A boy's body-- not much older than Dick. Suspended, midair.

His heart drops. But Dick doesn't scream.

For a second, there are two boys midair, silent and still in the morning moonlight.

The body raises its head. Hello, Richard.

Dick doesn't move.

I have a question for you. The body blinks sightless eyes. Does your guardian treat you well?

Dick...doesn't know what that means. He rolls his weight forward, careful, so careful not to tip himself over the edge and send him plummeting.

"...Why are you asking?"

I need something looked after, the body says. Its limbs sway in wind that isn't here. It is very precious to me.

"Oh." Well, B is Batman, sometimes. And when he's not Batman, he's Bruce Wayne, and he is in charge of a lot of people. "Yeah, he's respons- reponsbile- he does a good job. Can I see it?" Dick's interest is piqued.

The body stills. And then-- like a zombie clawing its way out of its grave, it reaches through the rotting skin of its own stomach and removes. Something.

It's a baby.

Dick leans so far forward that he almost does go toppling but he's gripping the silver of the chandelier so that he doesn't, and, look! It's a baby! It's so small and tiny and it's still purple!

"He's so new!" Dick gasps, and releases one arm from its death grip to make a grabby hand. The body only floats close enough that Dick can pet the baby's cheek with a careful finger, can feel the softness of the baby's hair.

He is my charge, the body explains. As such, he is precious to me.

The baby is so small. Dick wants to bounce him, like he's seen mamas and papas do with their little ones. "Can I hold him?"

The baby disappears back into the body. It looks like a maggot burrowing back into the corpse it's eating, and Dick is heartbroken and sick about it. No. Not until I know it's safe.

Dick pouts. Also, he needs to know how to get the baby away from the...body. Babies need a lot of light and warmth. A dead body monster can't give him that.

Your guardian played his part in making the little heir, the body says. This baby was given to me by his grandfather. His mother passed him onto her own father, and her father sold him to me.

"Oh no!" Dick gasps. That is one of the things B has had to explain to Dick, one of hundreds of terrible things that happens to people in Gotham. And it happened to B's baby?

Yes. The body floats sightlessly, thin skin sliding over too-pale eyes. I must know if he is safe before I leave the baby in his care. Will you help me?

Dick...doesn't know what that means. He bites down on the soft presence of his lip. (He tastes blood.) "How?"

The body and the baby inside it are still. Quiet. Dick is two stories off the ground, midair, and any wrong motion could be his-- his-- Dick can't even see the ground. It would hurt so much. He's so high up from the distant hardwood floor and with only ghosts to keep him company.

...It would be very scary.

Dick swallows.

Do you trust that he would come get you, if you were in danger?

Dick knows so. He nods.

Do you trust he would be smart enough to find you? Mean enough to defend you? Care enough to comfort you? the body asks.

Dick nods.

The body floats closer. Closer. Until they are almost touching-- limp limbs entangling on the crystalline arms of the chandelier. It would be very scary, if you said yes, the body admits, as heavily weighted as any corpse that cannot help you hold it. But you would be in no danger. Should your guardian succeed, I will entrust him with this precious thing.

One circus boy's fears for the safety of B's baby. It's an easy choice. Dick is Robin. He is always going to pick helping people over maybe getting hurt.

His pinky touches the cold, dead flesh of the body's.

And then Dick wakes up sweating and heaving in bed.

#ooo spooky ooky #idk kid maybe ask your dad about this before you agree to anything??#this is why I can never finish anything #I always have like ten things in reserve #contracts signed by minors without consent are illegal DANNY #dp x dc #Danny Phantom #DC #DCU crossover

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year

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Hello I like the concept of reader in impostor sagau au, but what if the impostor who wants to kill the reader has power to dominate the will of the pepoles but he manily did to archons like venti and nahida becoese impostor knows that those two wodul help the reader. And those are prisoners in thier own body and trys to take back control of thier body even for few secends just to help reader escape, and that true impostor on the public acts on the public like good god but on the private. Where there is no acolaytes only thier dominated puppets they will shows true colors of cruler person that wodul like to punish all of acolaytes for leting reader run away but they can punish only those characters who are under thier control.

(Sorry for my bad english that not my first language)

This. Pure Gold.

Anon, true words cannot express how much I want to hug you right now. I legit could not have come up with this idea myself LOL. Honestly, ik my writing is terrible, but I might make a angst oneshot out of this idea! Tysm for the idea, Anon!

But I really do love this idea! The Imposter being smart this time, bois. Poor Venti and Nahida, they're being held against their will—quite literally. But still, this is a super cool concept! Imposter being able to take control over people's wills, mainly the archons, along with every other character that seems to hold a deep loyalty to them.

So! Allow me to introduce...Imposter Headcanons!

When Imposter takes control, it is done by mind entirely. → Now, you might be asking "isn't that obvious?" Let me explain why I point this out. Think of this as a light switch. When Imposter wants to, they can simply slip into their own consciousness once this "switch" is turned on, and they can decide who's minds they can possess/take control/spectate.

Often times, characters would not be able to notice the Imposter's presence within their mind, but people who are keen or have been dealing with spirits in some way (Examples: Shenhe, Chongyun, Yae Miko, Cyno, etc.) would be able to feel that presence. This causes the feeling of the "Creator's presence" being placed everywhere, causing everyone to believe that the Reader is, in fact, the "imposter," when it should be the other way around.

To the Imposter, choosing who to have a constant control over is basically like choosing which characters you want to have on the party, except with one catch: it goes up to at least several hundreds of people. Imposter can literally have like- a fourth of the world possessed if they wanted to at this rate—

Imposter's actions don't always influence their puppet's actions, as there is a certain command these puppets would follow. For example, the Imposter could be feeling hungry and want something to eat, thus they cannot spectate their puppet's actions. They leave this final command in their heads: "Search for the traitor. Don't stop until you bring them to me. ALIVE." and then leave to have their lunch or something.

The Imposter's Actions May Sometimes influence the character's they possess and their actions. → The best way to explain this is an example: Let's say the Imposter feels sleepy, and they decide to go to sleep after giving the final command to their current puppets to continuing searching for the traitor (for context, this "traitor" is someone who didn't believe in their "creator" aka imposter). They would do it, it's just...sometimes, the puppets may also feel fatigue. This causes their actions to be more sluggish, some of the puppets are less keen than they usually are.

Just think of Al-Haitham except his mind is being clouded by 2 weeks worth of no sleep to the point he has to have taken one cup too many of coffee to function.

The Imposter can speak through their puppets. → This is very helpful. From physical appearance, it just seems like they're the same, but their voice? Oh no, that's a entirely new story yet to be discovered.

The Imposter's voice is overlaid on the character's voice. Think of it like playing two songs at once at the same time. Except, Imposter's voice would come out stronger than the character's voice.

For example, imagine Reader bumping into Nahida, right? They're basically having a Goose Chase, since Reader is trying to get away from Nahida, thinking (correctly) that she'll kill them. And then she taunts, "Come out, imposter. You can't hide forever!" Nahida's voice is entirely overpowered by the Imposter's voice.

This is also beneficial for the Imposter's hunting army. Why? Because, if several hundreds of people begin storming a place, and people are panicking, the Imposter can have all of their puppets speak at once, saying something like "Don't fret, my people. It is I, your Creator." Which immediately calms down the citizens, before the Imposter commands to their army "Search for the Imposter!"

Yes, that means the commands the Imposter gives could be both a verbal order or a mental one.

Imposter Cannot search in people's memories. → While in control, the Imposter cannot look through their puppet's memories. This is probably the easiest loophole the Imposter gets, seeing that they seem to have a close eye on the Archons, having their presence on them sub-consciously at this point. They can simply order Nahida to read someone's mind, or just straight up take over her body to do it if she refuses.

The Imposter doesn't have to worry about their puppet's consciousness, because they're usually in a daze or in a sleepy state whenever the Imposter is in control. It gives them easy access to do whatever they want to their physical bodies.

However, once Nahida and/or Venti decide to break through it once to let the Reader escape? Oh no, Imposter will, first of all, punish those two severely, and, second of all, be worried if that were to happen ever again.

Imposter will legit throw them in a cage, probably both mentally and physically. They're taking absolute precautions to make sure it doesn't happen ever to those who seem more interested in escaping their grasp.

You can basically say goodbye to Nahida and Venti—Imposter will not let go of their control over them. They'll be in their heads day in and day out. No excuses, and no escapes.

Legit Imposter is a straight up tyrant. And tbh, Idk if Reader will be making out alive on this sagau au concept, lads.

And that's all I got! Sorry if it's confusing lol—feel free to ask any questions. I'll try to answer them if I can. See you around!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: Thanks so much for sending this into my inbox, anon! Feel free to drop by again when my mailbox is open! And I wasn't kidding—I might actually make a small oneshot or two based off of this idea. It won't be beta read though sobbing. But I'll try writing again lol-

Check the Ghost Rebel's Blog Description to See if Their Inbox is Open!

#sagau genshin #sagau #genshin impact sagau #yandere sagau #genshin sagau #sagau brainrot #sagau idea #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #sagau angst #sagau au #sagau impostor au #imposter sagau

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andiwriteordie · 11 months

Note

HIIII i have a prompt for u,

have mike get a vecna vision where will dies in his arms. 🤭🤭🤭

this is not a want its a NEED.

im in the mood for angst rn and i love ur art style so...... 😊😊

oh this was a cruel cruel prompt 😈

here's a ficlet that turned into a fic because i combined it with another prompt lol 🫡

—

holding hands, while the walls come tumbling down

It starts like this.

The steady yet nervous thump, thump, thump of a heartbeat that Mike can hear as loud as his own. A body nestled right beside him; an artist’s hands, smooth and soft and ever gentle, intertwined with Mike’s; a boy he has known for nearly his entire life and loved in some way for just as long who is here, here, here lying next to him—all Mike’s for the taking, just like Mike is all his.

It’s quiet in the room, save for the soft sound of their breathing. That, too, moves in time with each other—the gentle rise and fall of their chests as they breathe in and out, in and out, in and out.

Mike would stay here forever if he could. And he thinks—no, no, no; he knows, without a shadow of a doubt in his mind and in his heart—that Will feels the same.

Mike has always prided himself on being the type of person to give everything to what he does. Sometimes (oftentimes), everything isn’t enough, but that doesn’t stop him from giving it his all anyways. He’s never been the type of person to do something halfway; no, for Mike, it’s always been a deep dive into whatever it is he’s set his mind out to. An all or nothing kind of deal.

Will’s different from him. That’s something Mike’s known since their very first conversation, when his excitable, overeager “Hi! Do you want to be my friend?” was met with a quieter, shyer, but no less enthusiastic, “Yes; I – I do!” from Will. He’s not the type of first to run headfirst into something, which is probably good for Mike. It probably keeps them both out of trouble. But when Will does commit to something, when he chooses what he wants, when he decides that Yes, yes, yes, this is something I’m willing to fight for, then he’s every bit as passionate as Mike is.

All or nothing.

There’s no turning back for the two of them, and Mike couldn’t care less. This path they’ve stumbled down on is one they’ve been walking down for quite some time now—together, even though they were both a little too blind and far too stubborn to see it. Now that they can finally see each other, now that everything is out in the light, now that Will knows Mike loves him and Mike knows that Will loves him too, there’s no going back from here. They’ve passed the point of no return, and Mike will be damned if they ever go back to what they used to be.

It’s been a longtime coming for the two of them, and as Will nestles closer to Mike’s side, resting his head on Mike’s chest and letting out another soft, content sigh, Mike can’t help but smile.

The world around them might literally be on the brink of ending—constantly shrouded in darkness, plagued by monsters from the Upside Down, cold and always on the brink of another terrifying, disastrous storm that will threaten to rip Hawkins apart—but Mike has never been happier than he is in this moment, here with Will.

“What’re you thinking about?” comes Will’s quiet, sleepy voice, and Mike glances down at his boyfriend (Boyfriend? Right? Is that what we are now?) and meets Will’s gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, mixed in with the sleepiness that’s not surprising for how late it must be now, as well as a familiar curiosity.

What’s wrong? Will’s expression also seems to say. Are you okay? Was… was this okay?

Mike just smiles, leaning forward and kissing Will, soft and slow. Immediately, the butterflies in his stomach come back to life, more excited and awake than they’ve ever been before today. “Just about how happy I am,” Mike admits, once he’s pulled away. “I… I never really thought this would happen to me… To us.”

The curiosity melts away from Will’s face, morphing into something softer and something a bit hesitant and shy. He pulls away, ever so slightly, and lies on his side, and Mike does the same, so the two of them are looking directly at one another now. The dim glow of the old lamp that’d made it with Mike all these years—somehow surviving the move from his childhood home to Hawkins Lab and making it through the literal apocalypse—shines down on them, illuminating Will’s face just enough for Mike to see him clearly.

Beautiful is the only word that comes to Mike’s mind.

“I never thought this would happen either,” Will whispers back. There’s a smile tugging at his lips, small and a bit shy, and he reaches forward, tucking some of Mike’s hair back behind his ears. “Part of me thinks I’m just… gonna wake up, and this is all going to have been a dream. Or worse. A trance.”

“Pretty sure it’s not a dream,” Mike says with a laugh, and just for good measure, he kisses Will again, relishing in the way Will’s face immediately brightens. “Or a trance. Unless we’re… both dreaming. Or stuck in a trance.”

“Stranger things have happened to us,” Will points out, just to be difficult.

Mike rolls his eyes, before pulling Will close to him and kissing him again, slower this time and with more intention. Will moves easily in his embrace, following where Mike leads the two of them until their bodies are flush against each other again, filling Mike with that familiar sense of warmth and giddiness. And because it’s Will and because he wants this as much as Mike does, and because they’re both the type of people to go all in—all or nothing—Will kisses him back without any hesitation, his tongue exploring Mike’s mouth like this is the first and last time they’ll ever get to do this and his hands carding through Mike’s hair to pull him close, close, close but not close enough.

“I love you,” Mike breathes. The words come naturally, and though they’ve gone unspoken all night, Mike knows they haven’t gone unsaid. Every single kiss and every single glance and every single touch shared between the two of them has been a whisper of those three words over and over and over again: I love you, I love you, I love you.

And there’s not a single doubt in Mike’s mind that he means it.

A smile forms on Will’s face as he leans away, resting his forehead against Mike’s own. He looks absolutely radiant like this, face illuminated by the soft glow of that old lamp, smile stretching from ear to ear, eyes sparkling with a warmth that screams back to Mike, I love you, I love you, I love you, with just as much enthusiasm and excitement that Mike feels in his own heart.

“I love you too,” Will whispers back, and he reaches forward, cupping Mike’s face gently. “I love you so much.”

Then, without another word, Will closes the space between the two of them once more.

Mike wakes the next morning to the sound of screaming.

The sound startles him right out of whatever dream he’d been having, and Mike flinches sharply, sitting up and looking around the room. His heart pounds inside his chest, and an unsettled, terrified feeling grows inside his stomach as everything inside him switches from a sleepy, even idyllic state to DANGER, DANGER, DANGER mode in a matter of seconds.

Save for the dim light of his desk lamp, the room is relatively dark, and there’s no one else in the room except for Mike and—

And Will.

There’s a terrified look on Will’s face, and much like Mike, he’s looking around the room, eyes darting back and forth nervously like he has no idea where he is or what’s real or whether or not they’re safe. He’s trembling too, hands clenched tightly around Mike’s old blanket, and he seems like he’s just another few moments away from a complete breakdown.

And instantly, Mike’s mind switches from the DANGER, DANGER, DANGER mode to his Will needs me mode.

“Hey,” Mike whispers, scooting close to Will and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Will immediately flinches, startled by the touch, and Mike winces, running his hand up and down Will’s army gently. “Hey, it’s just me, Will. You’re okay. You’re okay. It was just a dream. Whatever you saw… it’s not real.”

That promise – it’s not a new one. After all, the last two-and-a-half years have been full of sleepless nights brought on by otherworldly nightmares. Nobody has been spared from them, but of everyone in the Party, Will has probably suffered the most, thanks to his deeper connection to One. These nightmares are nothing new, and yet, every single time Will suffers from one of them, it feels like a knife in Mike’s heart.

He can’t make the nightmares go away, but he can be there for Will. He can sit with Will until the darkness fades away, back into a vague memory, and he can hold Will and make promises that It’ll be okay; you’ll be okay; I’m not going anywhere; we’ll get through this. That’s really all Mike can do, and so God damn it, that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

Usually, it helps. It takes time, but usually, Will is receptive to the comfort, always leaning in close and allowing Mike to hold him until the terror subsides.

But for some reason, this time, Will isn’t so receptive.

It takes a moment, but out of nowhere, Will pushes Mike away, that terrified look still remaining on his face. He’s even paler than he was just a second ago, causing confusion to grow in Mike’s heart and mind. Before Mike can say anything though, Will whispers, “Mike… we have to go. Now.”

There’s an urgency in his voice unlike anything Mike has ever heard before, and that, coupled with the look of pure fear in Will’s eyes, is enough for Mike to understand exactly what’s going on, even before Will says anything about it. After all, there’s only one thing that would scare Will this much, and really, it’s just their shared, awful luck that this would happen today of all days.

They just got together—finally, after years and years of dancing around each other and hiding from themselves and one another and never fully knowing if their feelings would be reciprocated. They just crossed that line from just friends into something more, and now…

Now, the world is actually, quite literally about to end. Now, the two of them stand on the precipice of something that could change everything and could ultimately decide the fate of the rest of the world. Now, the past five years of having their lives uprooted by the Upside Down will come to an end, one way or another.

Mike swallows the lump in the back of his throat, and he turns, meeting Will’s eyes. “It’s him, isn’t it?” he asks quietly, though he already knows the answer.

A grim expression forms on Will’s face, and he takes another slow, shuddered breath, before nodding. “Yeah,” Will whispers back. “It’s him. One’s back, and we… we have to go. Now.”

The words before it’s too late hang on the end of Will’s sentence—unspoken, but not unsaid. He doesn’t have to say anything else or give any other details. Not yet at least. Those will come in time, as soon as they wake up the others and fill them in on what’s happening. But for right now, just between the two of them, all that Will has said is enough.

And Mike gets the awful feeling that… that one way or another, today is going to be the end.

“Okay,” Mike whispers. He takes a deep breath. In and out. In and out. In and out. Then, a bit more confident, “We’ll go wake the others up, and we’ll put an end to this. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Those words aren’t ones that he has any business promising, and both of them know it. Still, Will’s shoulders do relax just a little bit, and he scoots close to Mike once more, taking Mike’s hand in his own. “It’s going to be okay,” Will echoes faintly. “We’ll make it through this.”

There’s a slight tremble in his voice, like he doesn’t know if he believes those words, and truthfully, Mike doesn’t know if he does either. But he forces himself to smile anyways and leans forward, kissing Will’s forehead. “Whatever happens today,” Mike says, his voice quiet, “I want you to know I love you.”

For a moment, it’s quiet in the room—the only sound the faint inhale and exhale from Will and from Mike himself. Then, in a voice that’s impossibly soft but still full of so much certainty, Will replies, “I know… and I love you too. Always.”

He glances back up at Mike with a bittersweet look in his eyes. The words are true, and Mike has no doubt about that in his mind… But both of them know that the words are a bit of a goodbye too—the last chance they might get to say things like this to one another, in case today doesn’t go the way any of them plan for it to.

Best case scenario?

El manages to defeat One. None of their friends or family die. Hawkins and the rest of the world are saved. Somehow, some way, they figure out how to go back to being normal, stupid teenagers, and they put all of this behind them.

Worst case scenario?

Well… Mike doesn’t really want to think about that. Best not to deal in what ifs and best not to let himself become too terrified of the outcome. What matters most is right now and finding the others, so they can actually stand a fighting chance.

What comes later will come later.

“Always,” Mike echoes, just as soft as Will, and because he can—he can now—he leans forward and steals a quick kiss. “Come on. We should go wake the others.”

Downtown Hawkins is a complete wreck.

There’s no other way to describe it. This place has been a ghost town for over two years now, run down and battered and destroyed by the monsters that come up out of the rifts from the Upside Down. That’s no surprise at all, but what is a surprise is just how quickly a ghost town can become a battlefield.

There are monsters everywhere, and large, black vines sprout up from the middle of the town—what used to be the library but has been a massive gate leading to the Upside Down since March 1986. The monsters just keep on coming, hundreds of them crawling, flying, stumbling out of the gate with roars and snarls so loud it’s a miracle Mike’s eardrums don’t burst.

The Party—which now unfortunately includes more than just the close friends Mike’s known since his childhood—has been training for this the entire time. Over three years of preparation have led them to this moment, but even all that time spent training and learning how to fight and how not to immediately die in battle can only get them so far. There’s only a small handful of them, and there are hundreds of monsters.

If El can’t beat One, then there’s no way this doesn’t end with every single last one of them dead at the hands of some twisted, demo-creature.

Still, Mike keeps fighting, operating on nothing but pure adrenaline now. There’s definitely a nasty cut and a bump on his head from a tussle with some mutated demodog of sorts, but Mike barely pays any attention to that. All he can do is keep fighting, shooting down demo-creature after creature and praying to whatever fucking deity may or may not be listening that he doesn’t run out of bullets before this is all said and done.

He’s long since lost track of nearly all the other Party members. El’s off somewhere fighting One. Lucas and Dustin are nowhere to be found but hopefully still alive and hopefully with someone else in their little group. The only person Mike’s managed to keep an eye on this whole time has been Will—and only because he and Will refuse to leave one another’s side. They’ve spent the better part of this battle fighting back-to-back with one another, barrages of well-aimed bullets flying out from their rifles and into the bodies of the monsters threatening to rip them into shreds.

If this is how it ends, then all Mike knows is that he wants to be close to Will.

The battle feels like it goes on forever—or at least long enough that the adrenaline begins to wear off, and the rifle in Mike’s hands begins to feel too heavy, and his limbs start to feel like they’re made out of jello. The exhaustion settles in, but there’s no time for that. Not when monster after monster keeps coming through the massive gate by the old library. So, despite the fact that everything begins to become a blur around him and it feels a bit like Mike is swimming underwater, trying his damnedest just to stay afloat, Mike keeps going and going and going in this hazy state until—

Until a scream pulls him right out of the haze.

That scream is the gravity that takes Mike’s hand and pulls, pulls, pulls until Mike is crashing back down to earth in a crumpled heap. Suddenly, Mike feels more awake and more attuned to his surroundings and filled with a newfound strength that wasn’t there before.

It comes too little, too late though.

Because as Mike turns around, looking in the direction that the scream had just come from, he feels his heart drop all the way to the bottom of his stomach. Pure panic and terror settle into his heart and mind, replacing the exhaustion from before, and in an instant, it’s like everything within Mike has been reoriented, only able to focus on one thing.

On one person.

“Will!”

The scream tears itself from Mike’s throat, and before he can even process it, Mike is sprinting to where his boyfriend now lies on the ground, bright red blood pooling around him. The two of them must’ve gotten separated only moments ago, because Will’s a few feet away from him, and there’s a whimpering, half-dead demo-creature lying halfway between the two of them. The blood from the creature flows down the street, joining the pool of Will’s blood, and Mike fights the urge to gag as he throws himself down onto the pavement beside him.

The battle rages on all around the two of them, monstrous roars still echoing in the streets of their hometown—the horrific soundtrack to what is easily the worst moment of Mike’s life.

Because up close, it becomes even more clear just how bad Will’s injuries are. What’s left of his shirt is soaked in blood, and the tattered remains of the shirt barely cover the open wounds in Will’s chest and stomach. Every single breath he takes is labored and trembling, and already, his eyes have become glassy and distant.

He’s dying.

Will is dying, and if Mike doesn’t do anything about it, he’s going to lose him, he’s going to lose Will, oh God, he’s going to lose Will, oh God, oh God, oh God—

“M-Mike?”

It’s Will’s wheezy, strained voice that snaps Mike out of the panic, and Mike flinches sharply, looking down at his boyfriend. Will’s eyes flutter open and closed, open and closed, and he struggles to keep them open as he looks up at Mike. He’s even paler than he was just mere moments again.

He’s fading. Quickly. Faster than Mike can even keep up with, let alone do something about.

Will is dying.

And Mike is going to lose him.

“J-just hold on, Will,” Mike manages to say, except that it comes out as more of a hoarse croak. His own chest feels tight, like someone is squeezing all the air right out from his lungs, and Mike chokes back a sob, weakly reaching for Will and pulling him into his arms. “Just hold on, okay? Okay, just hold on; you’re going to be okay; just hold on—HELP! Someone please! HELP! HELP US!”

Somehow, there’s no one around. Nobody can hear the strangled, desperate screams that are coming out of Mike’s mouth; nobody is around to see him sobbing and hugging Will tighter, as if somehow holding on to him will keep him here and keep him alive. Not even the demo-creatures, who were just surrounding them and threatening their lives, are around.

It’s just Mike and Will here.

Nobody is coming to help them.

Will is dying.

And Mike is going to lose him.

“I’m sorry,” Mike gasps, looking back down at Will through the blurry tears in his eyes. “Will, I… I don’t think… I don’t know if—”

“Shh,” Will whispers, and he reaches up weakly, placing a trembling hand on Mike’s cheek. Somehow, he manages a smile, though his lips and teeth are stained red with blood. “Shh… Mike… ‘s okay… ‘s okay.”

Every single word out of his mouth sounds strained, as if it hurts to say anything, and Mike bites back a sob, holding Will closer. “It’s not okay,” he whispers back, shaking his head. “I – I don’t… I don’t want to lose you, Will. You can’t go; please, you can’t—”

Again, Will offers him a smile, and he runs his thumb carefully, gently across Mike’s cheek. “You… you’ll be okay,” he murmurs and takes another quiet, labored breath. Then: “I… I’m glad you’re… here with me.”

The words feel like a knife in Mike’s already wounded heart, twisting deeper and deeper and delivering the final blow. That familiar feeling of desperation crawls back up to the surface as Mike tries to think of something—anything—he can do to save Will. There has to be something that can be done, some way to save Will, some solution that will keep them from the ending they’re quickly approaching.

But without anyone nearby, there’s nothing that can be done. There’s no solution, no way to save Will at this point, nothing that Mike can do.

Nothing except for sit here and stay with Will until the very end.

So, that’s exactly what Mike does.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mike promises softly, and he tilts his head, pressing a kiss against Will’s palm. The tears won’t stop now; they just keep coming and coming, dripping down Mike’s cheeks and onto the bloody ground. “I’ll stay here with you, Will… until… until…��

His voice trails off, dissolving into another sob, but Will gets exactly what Mike is trying to say. He always does, and though he looks exhausted and barely able to hold on any longer, Will smiles up at Mike and takes his other hand, interlacing their fingers.

Time, the strange thing that it is, seems to slow down around them. It’s as if Mike is having an out-of-body experience, watching all this happen in slow motion around them—a mere observer to the worst moment of his life and the end of Will’s.

“I love you,” Will murmurs, breathless and barely audible now.

“I love you too,” Mike whispers back, and he squeezes Will’s hand tightly, afraid to let go. The world shrinks and shrinks and shrinks until it’s just the two of them, frozen in this slow motion reality, and he watches as Will’s eyes flutter open and closed, open and closed, open… and closed.

He doesn’t open his eyes again.

And Mike’s world comes crashing down.

All at once, it’s as if the dam has burst, and another desperate, broken sob rips itself from Mike’s throat: “Will!”

Whatever sense of peace or at least acceptance that he might have found lulled into during Will’s last moments has all but disappeared now—replaced by a gut-wrenching, all-consuming, grief that washes over him like a flood. The rest of the world still feels far away, as if nothing else in the world matters but Will, Will, Will.

Will is gone.

He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s lying here and is dead in Mike’s arms, he isn’t breathing anymore, and his blood is all over the ground and all over Mike, and he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone—

“I’m sorry,” Mike whispers brokenly, and he holds onto Will’s lifeless body, rocking back and forth in some desperate attempt to wake him up or to do something, anything, to fix this. “P-please come back, Will; please, please, please don’t go, please come back, don’t leave me, please don’t go, please, Will, please come back, please, Will—”

Time passes in its ever strange, inconsistent movement. It’s hard something that Mike can’t keep track of—not when his focus is solely on Will.

But then, out of nowhere, something pulls Mike’s focus away from Will.

The air grows colder around the two of them; a pervasive, terrifying feeling of evil and darkness settles over downtown Hawkins. It’s familiar but jarring all at once, and Mike can’t help but shudder, holding Will’s body closer to his own. Slowly but surely, reality begins to settle back in, trickling in little by little through the cracks of Mike’s broken heart and mind.

The world around him is eerily quiet and terrifyingly still. Unlike the battlefield from before, downtown Hawkins has once again been reduced to nothing but a near silent ghost town. Gone are the vicious snarls and growls of monsters. Gone is the sound of bullets ricocheting through the air. Gone are the screams and furious cries of his friends and family.

In place of all of that is the simple sound of footsteps approaching him.

The footsteps are quickly approaching. Each step taken is one made with intention, and the movement brings that pervasive feeling of darkness closer and closer to Mike until the air around him feels near suffocating. All the while, Mike’s heart pounds in a nervous thumpthumpthump as the realization settles back in.

The battle is over.

There is no one left—no one but Mike.

All of his family, his friends, Will… they’re all gone.

And One has done it. He’s finally succeeded.

This is it.

This is the end.

As the footsteps approach, Mike takes a deep breath, and he leans down, pressing one last kiss to Will’s forehead. If this is it, if this is the end, if somehow Mike is the last person left of the Party, then he won’t go down without a fight. It doesn’t matter how futile it is. Mike has to at least try.

So, he gathers up all the courage left inside of him, and Mike lifts his head, daring to look One in the eye.

Icy blue eyes meet Mike’s own for the first time as something akin to a smile forms on One’s face. He looks pleased—amused even—and stops, just a few feet away from Mike and Will. “Michael Wheeler,” One says, voice low and gravelly, “we meet at last.”

Mike swallows the lump in his throat, doing the best to ignore the way his stomach is twisted into knots. It feels impossible—that he would be the last person standing here after all this fighting and bloodshed. Mike’s never been much of a hero, and God knows that he barely stands a fighting chance against One.

Still, his friends died trying to fight One and the monsters of the Upside Down. Will died trying to fight One and the monsters of the Upside Down. And if Mike is going to die too, then… so be it.

“Rot in hell,” Mike spits, his own voice full of venom. His rifle’s long since gone, tossed aside somewhere in the desperation to save Will, so all he’s got left to fight with now are his words. Those will just have to do.

One just chuckles and takes another step towards Mike, gesturing to the ruins of downtown Hawkins. “Look around you, Michael,” he says coldly, and against his own better judgment, Mike does so, his breath hitching as he takes in the carnage from the battle. “Do you see what I have done? Do you see what I am capable of? Do you see how futile fighting back is?”

Suddenly, it feels as though some invisible force is wrapped around Mike, and it pulls him all the way to his feet with a terrified yelp. The force squeezes him so tightly Mike feels like he can barely breathe, and it brings him forward until Mike finds himself barely inches away from One.

Another twisted smile forms on One’s face. He reaches forward, running his large, clawed hand down Mike’s cheek, and whispers, “You’re going to send a message for me, Michael Wheeler.”

Barely a moment after the words have left his mouth, the visions begin.

The visions are familiar—some moments that Mike has lived through and seen with his own two eyes and others that he’s only heard about from his friends and family. They flash across his eyes at dizzying, overwhelming speeds, one right after another after another.

At first, the visions are moments from today. Glimpses of the battle they all have just fought and lost, the screams of his friends and family, the snarls and growls of hundreds of demo-creatures coming out from the gates. But then, the visions work their way backwards, moving through moments in time from patrols over these past two years, Upside Down storms that began to cover Hawkins, and sporadic monster attacks that they almost didn’t survive.

The day at the meadow flashes through Mike’s line of sight too, before it quickly melts away into memories not belonging to himself. A jarring CRACK resonates through his mind as he watches Max’s bones snap and sees the gates ripping across all of Hawkins during that spring. Then, even before that, he sees Eddie’s death, sees his friends fighting for their lives against demobats and against vines, sees El and Max struggling against One’s power over them.

Suddenly, it’s the summer before, with the Mind Flayer and the Flayed and Billy. Starcourt Mall, going up in flames as the Mind Flayer’s fleshy form towered over and chased all of them. Black tendrils tracing up and down Billy’s face as an otherworldly horror controlled his actions. Will’s haunted whisper that the Mind Flayer was back, that this wasn’t over, that they still hadn’t escaped this.

Then, it’s the fall before that. The tunnels and the massive gate to the Upside Down. The night at the lab, with demodogs tearing through flesh and bone and with people screaming and crying for help. The Mind Flayer’s shadowy form, descending on Will, choking him, filling him up, and taking over his mind and body.

Finally, the visions end with that very first fall. The demogorgon, feasting on Brenner’s men at Hawkins Middle School. Hopper and Joyce finding Will in Upside Down. Will hiding and running for his life in the Upside Down, all alone with no one to help him. Barb screaming for help as the demogorgon rips her to shreds, and then—

Will.

Riding his bike through Hawkins, that very first night when this all began.

“Tell Will,” One’s voice whispers into the silence of Will’s bike ride through Hawkins, “that I am coming. The end is near, Michael. And there is nothing any of you can do to stop what I have been planning all along.”

One last vision flickers across Mike’s line of sight.

A memory that he still remembers, clear as day.

“It was a seven,” Will’s twelve year-old self says to Mike’s own younger self.

“Huh?”

“The roll,” Will explains. “It was a seven. The demogorgon – it got me. Well, see you tomorrow!”

And just like that, Will’s younger self rides away, leaving Mike’s younger self standing just outside his garage.

Mike watches as the garage light flickers above his younger self.

Then, in the next instant, he finds himself falling into the darkness.

The darkness seems to last for an eternity.

There’s an inky black void surrounding him as Mike falls, and he can’t help but scream, reaching out for something, anything to pull himself back up. But there’s absolutely nothing there to hold onto, so Mike just continues to fall and fall and fall, further and further into the darkness.

Then, suddenly, the darkness dissipates. The fog clears just a little bit, enough for Mike to hear someone call out his name: “MIKE!”

Will?

“MIKE!” the person—that’s Will, it has to be Will—calls again, more desperate this time, and Mike reaches back up, trying to grasp onto anything that will pull him out of the darkness. The way out seems just a little bit closer now, getting easier to reach out to as Will calls his name again, “MIKE! MIKE! MI—”

And with a gasp, Mike opens his eyes.

Light floods his line of sight, replacing the never-ending darkness at an overwhelmingly fast pace. Mike’s mind feels like it’s racing at a million miles an hour, and his heart is pounding inside his chest, so hard that it almost hurts to breathe. All the while, the room spins around and around and around and around and—

Suddenly, Mike’s knees buckle, nearly sending him crashing to the ground. Fortunately, someone—Will—is there to catch him, and though the two of them both stumble, Will manages to break his fall. “Mike?” he asks, voice full of concern. “Mike, hey, are you okay?”

There are tears in Will’s eyes, and his face looks blotchy, like he’s been crying. Still, even with the worry written all over his expression, there’s relief there too, and Mike takes a shuddered breath, choosing to focus on Will.

Will’s here. Will’s here, and he – he’s alive. He’s alive. Mike didn’t lose him. He’s not dead. Will isn’t dead.

Which means…

That entire battle must have been a vision from One. An opportunity for One to pass along a message that he’d been waiting to send. And… a warning for what’s still to come.

“Shit,” Mike whispers. “Shit. Will, we have to – he… One… I—”

“Hey, just take a deep breath,” Will says worriedly, and he hesitates, before reaching for Mike’s hand. “Just breathe, okay? Mike, you – you were in that trance for a while. We couldn’t snap you out of it, and I… I thought I was going to lose you.”

Will’s voice breaks on those last few words, breaking Mike’s heart with it. “I’m still here,” Mike reassures, reaching up and cupping Will’s cheek as gently as he can. “I’m still here, Will.”

A bright rosy blush spreads across Will’s face as his eyes widen and glance at Mike’s hand. “I know you are,” he replies quietly, “but I… I still could’ve lost you. I – I mean… we all could have.”

The memories of seeing Will’s mangled body on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood, come back to the forefront of Mike’s mind, and he can’t help but shudder. Without giving it another thought, he wraps his arms around Will, hugging him as tight as he possibly can.

Mike… he still has no idea how much of the past two days have actually been part of his vision from One versus how much was real. There’s no doubt in his mind that the battle itself and his encounter with One were all a result of being held in a trance, but as for… as for everything that came before that—confessing his love for Will and learning about Will’s feelings in return—Mike isn’t honestly sure.

There’s a part of him that thinks… maybe that stuff was just too good to be true. Maybe Mike did make that all up in his mind, or maybe it was just a trick from One, designed to taunt him before delivering the final blow. Maybe what happened with Will the night before that battle was nothing more than just a dream.

Mike swallows the lump in his throat, and he tries not to think about that as Will hugs him tighter and buries his head in Mike’s shoulder. “I’m still here,” Mike repeats, softer now than before. “We’re both still here… We’re not going to lose each other, Will.”

“The end is near, Michael,” One’s voice echoes through his mind—the cruel threat solidified in his mind now as a promise. This isn’t over. What Mike saw in his vision… it may very well come to pass.

And just like Will once said to him, One isn’t going to stop until he takes everything and everyone.

“And there is nothing any of you can do to stop what I have been planning all along,” One had told him, as the visions of Will leaving Mike’s house on that fateful night had played out for him like a twisted home video.

More importantly, One isn’t going to stop until takes Will.

Mike can’t let that happen. He can’t lose Will.

Will takes a shaky breath of his own, and he pulls away, just enough for the two of them to look at each other, and offers Mike a tiny smile. “We won’t,” he agrees softly. He hesitates, then carefully lifts his hand, resting it against Mike’s cheek. “Are you… are you okay?”

Will’s hand is warm against Mike’s face, and his touch feels like electricity. There’s something so genuine and so tender about the way that he’s looking at Mike and the way he gently runs his thumb across Mike’s cheek, over and over again. He’s here—warm and firm and solid, close enough that Mike is able to take his hand and hold on and never let go.

Will’s here. He’s okay. He’s safe.

And for now, that’s all that matters.

So, even in spite of One’s haunting message and the visions from their past and the warnings of the future, Mike finds the ability to smile. He reaches up, putting his hand over Will’s, and he nods. “I’m okay. You’re here, so… I’m okay.”

Those words cause Will’s face to turn an even brighter shade of red, but he smiles regardless, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Mike’s own. He takes Mike’s other free hand in his own and doesn’t say anything else—not that Mike needs him to. They’ve always been able to communicate without words, and this time is no different.

Sure, the future might be bleak, and there’s no telling whether One’s visions will come to pass, even in spite of their best efforts to fight back. But right here, right now, he and Will are together. They’re both safe, and they’re both here.

All they can do is take this moment for what it's worth and hold onto each other while they still can.

And for now, it ends in very much the same way that Mike thinks it began.

The steady yet nervous thump, thump, thump of a heartbeat that Mike can hear as loud as his own. A body nestled close beside him; an artist’s hands, smooth and soft and ever gentle, intertwined with Mike’s; a boy he has known for nearly his entire life and loved in some way for just as long who is here, here, here right in front—all Mike’s for the taking, just like Mike is all his.

#byler #byler fanfic #andi writes not dies #byler ficlet

110 notes · View notes

quietlyimplode · 6 months

Text

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 31 - take it easy

Warnings: nightmares

Word Count: 3.4K(picture from the amazing @oceanspirit9 )

Summary: the wedding of Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff

A/N: well shit. I don’t even know where to begin with this. @broken--bow this is yours, without you this wouldn’t be here - from the bottom of my heart thank you so much. @oceanspirit9 I’m still in awe of your art, thank you for it and your entire encouragement this month.

Fic is about community - whumptober gives me a chance to set my mind to something in a month where, there are difficulties and hardships. It gives a whole other place to exist in. Without the communities of fic; life becomes a lot more convoluted and grey. Thank you all for being on this journey - if you’ve liked multiple chapters and followed (even at a distance) - I see you, and thank you. All your commented and likes and reblogs matter to me.

Long live this community. It’s so very dear to me.

(Oh and if we want an epilogue, let me know. It wouldn’t be part of whumptober but may be a nice ending.)

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

2014

NEW YORK

AVENGERS TOWER

CLINT AND NATASHA’S WEDDING DAY

Dreykov circles her.

Sitting tied to a chair Natasha is powerless to move.

Fear paralyzes her.

A gun in hand as he points it at her face.

“You think you belong anywhere else but here?”

He places it under her chin.

“I would rather die than let anyone else have you.”

He presses in further, causing her to lift her head, unable to swallow.

“No one will ever love you, not when I’m through with you.”

He bends down and kisses her cheek.

Then stands and backhands her.

“You’ll never escape the Red Room, not even if you tried.”

She wakes alone.

Her chin sore as she touches it gently, trying to wipe away the sensation.

The room is dark and the world still.

The ghosts that haunt her still feeling present.

The dream dissipates as time presses forward.

She turns for Clint to find his side of the bed empty, and she pads out of bed to the bathroom.

Natasha looks at herself in the mirror, her reflection pale.

She did escape.

In the ways that matter.

She thinks of Isla, trapped and alone; fulfilling Dreykov’s prophecy and wonders how to help her. Tomorrow, she thinks, she’ll ask Clint tomorrow.

Glancing at the time, she realises it is the next day.

Her wedding day.

A day that was supposed to be by the beach, in the sun, a day that given the last 3 years grew less likely.

To have it here, Natasha supposes she feels apprehensive, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Something will go wrong.

She feels it.

All this good doesn’t come without bad.

Yelena sits on a chair staring at her.

It takes a moment for Natasha to orient to the time and space but when she does; she grins.

The night had continued to be rocky, but the spate of sleep she’d got from 6-7am would have to be enough.

Clint was staying in his own floor, surrounded by the other boys, whilst she was getting ready with the girls.

Maria, as she was officiating had the luxury of passing in between to keep everyone on time.

“Stop watching,” Natasha mumbles, throwing a pillow at her.

Yelena catches it and throws it back.

“Get up,” she commands, “you’re getting married today.”

She smiles menacingly.

“I’ve also been tasked with getting you dressed.”

Natasha sits up, still sleepy, growing more aware of the tasks ahead and pushing down the apprehension that grows.

Yelena does nothing to help it, except push her into the bathroom and tells her to shower.

The whole scene is surreal.

She wonders if Clint is faring any better.

Pepper greets him in the kitchen, and he’s momentarily confused.

“Yelena is with Natasha,” she tells him, “I’m just finishing up on some details upstairs then I’ll go help them. Where’s Tony?”

Steve enters after him and he holds up the coffee pot, questioning.

Steve shrugs and nods.

“It’s your wedding day, man!”

Clint sucks down the cup of coffee, not waiting to breathe, until he’s finished instead giving Steve a thumbs up with his other hand.

Pepper rolls her eyes and laughs.

“I’ll see you later,” she tells them.

“Make sure you’re here by 10.”

She looks directly at Steve.

“Okay?”

He nods and salutes mockingly.

“Come on. Bring that with you,” he ushers, pushing him towards the workshop.

Clint follows, dragging his feet as the time flashing of 8am feeling mocking on the microwave.

If only he got more sleep.

He doesn’t want to think about what it means that sleeping beside Natasha gives him much better sleep than sleeping alone.

The dreams, the overthinking, she just has a way of soothing it, and making it better.

Tony, half dressed in a tuxedo, greets him with a drink and a smile.

“Happy wedding day,” he says, handing him an arrow.

Clint takes it unconsciously, and then hands it back confused.

Tony presses the bottom collapsing it and it opens at the point, revealing a purple flower.

“To sit in your pocket,” he nods, he then pulls on the end and it turns back into an arrow. Handing it back, Clint, he gives it a go, marveling at the weapon turned flower.

“Thanks,” he says, playing with it like a fidget toy.

“You should start getting ready,” Steve prompts responsibility.

Tony laughs.

“He just needs to get dressed, how long do you think it’s going to take him?”

“Yeah, but Pepper has asked him to look at the roof, in like an hour, make sure it’s all okay for Nat, then make any changes. Plus, she’ll be there at like 11 for the ceremony to start at 11.10.”

He looks pointedly at Tony.

“What time do you need to be there?”

Tony waves him off.

“I’ll be there on time, I have alarms.”

Clint shakes his head and walks off arrow in hand feeling nervous at the pressure being placed.

He doesn’t like it.

Instead of heading to his room, he sends a message and heads for the elevator.

She gets a message, a slight code on it, and realises it’s from Clint almost immediately.

“Meet me in the elevator,” it says, “I need to see you.”

Halfway through her make up, she stands and heads for the door.

“I’ll be back,” she tells Yelena and Maria, who are also finishing their make up.

She hasn’t seen Pepper yet, and misses her no nonsense calmness of organisation.

“When you’re back, I’ll do your hair,” Yelena offers, and Natasha nods.

“Wait,” Maria calls, throwing two cupcakes at her.

“Eat something.”

Natasha catches them and makes it a show to take a bite, before backing out and heading to the elevator.

It opens to reveal Clint, still in a tshirt and pajama pants.

There’s a look of relief on his face as he sees her and he pulls her in, kissing her and hugging her close.

“I missed you,” he says, sappily.

She’d call him out on it, but she feels the same. The comfort of each other regulating, Natasha handing him a cupcake and he hands her the pot of coffee he’d taken from the kitchen.

They sit in the stationary elevator, not talking as they eat the cupcakes and drink the coffee.

“Pepper has me looking at the roof to make sure it’s at your standards,” he admits.

“Do you want me to text you photos?”

Natasha nods.

“Yeah, no surprises would be good.”

He nods.

“You’ll be standing ready to walk together right?”

He nods again.

“Everything else is ready, right?”

She nods.

“Only Yelena knows, she won’t tell anyone.”

Clint sighs and checks the time.

“We should go,” he says with a shallow smile.

“Yeah.”

Slowly they stand.

The elevator opening as if commanded and then, kissing each other, they go their separate ways.

The ribbon is gently braided in.

Both Natasha and Yelena don’t talk, the moment feeling sacred as the tie that bound them in childhood and helped to bring them back together.

There’s nothing really to say.

Shallow smiles and gentle touches as they both seem to understand the significance of the moment.

They’re both alive, against all odds.

Something maybe neither of their mothers expected.

“Thank you for being here, today,” Natasha says quietly.

Yelena doesn’t reply.

“I didn’t think…”

Yelena places a hand on Natasha shoulder.

“The past, I think will always play a part for us. But I am glad to be here with you too.”

It’s not an absolution.

It could never be, neither of them would accept it.

But it’s enough.

The wedding dress fits perfectly.

Pepper and Yelena help.

Pepper shed tears and Yelena just looks pleased. Natasha that leaves for the bathroom, feeling too many emotions and overwhelmed with them.

She needs time to centre herself.

Time is moving too quickly, and she feels almost dissociated and disconnected from the moments that keep happening.

It’s like it’s happening to someone else, or that she’s watching it happen to herself.

She should be happy, not apprehensive and anxious.

The time with Clint was the most centred she’d been since waking, and it just felt compounded.

“Nat?”

Pepper knocks on the door.

“I’ve got to go meet Clint, are you okay to meet us on the roof in about 11? It’s about an hour?”

Natasha squeaks out a response, and then keeps staring at herself.

She just needs a moment.

The rooftop is beautiful.

Chairs are placed in a semi circle around an arbour. The archway decorated with blue forget-me-nots as the litter the aisle and decorate all the chairs.

There’s pictures, of Barney and Coulson. There’s not just one of each but multiples, pictures of them Clint and Barney that Gus had given, of Natasha and Coulson, pictures he hadn’t seen before. He stops and sees the tiny one of Natasha’s mother holding her, and feels his breath catch in his throat.

“Pepper.”

He wanders around and takes a few photos of all of it, before sending it off.

“You did all this? In two days?”

Pepper shrugs.

“Some of you have super powers…”

“You have super powers,” Clint cuts her off, leaving no room for argument.

There’s blue ribbons on the chairs and tiny purple arrows in the bouquets.

He wanders for a moment, taking it all in and gathering himself.

“I didn’t know if you wanted that…” she gestures to the pictures of the people no longer here, “but I wanted to a acknowledge them, in some way I guess.”

He walks back over and stares at Coulson, and nods.

“No, it’s perfect.”

Pepper stands back and looks around.

“Is there anything else, or something more you need?”

Clint shakes his head.

“No, but can you keep a secret?”

He feels it’s only right in telling her after she had put so much effort into this moment.

She nods.

After Clint leaves to get Tony, he messages Natasha.

“Anything else needed? I told Pepper, too.”

A message comes, moments later.

Just one word that makes his heart stop.

“Red.”

Yelena stands at the bathroom door, and shrugs at Clint.

“She was fine.”

There’s a tone of worry he doesn’t think he has ever heard. Always so self assured or matter of fact, Yelena doesn’t seem easily put out.

Now, it’s a worry that bleeds through.

“Can you tell Pepper to get everyone seated and we’ll come together?”

He glances at the time, 10.55.

She doesn’t move, perhaps concerned with this part of Natasha that she’s never seen before.

He tries to dampen down the urgency, reassure her and get her out, he nods and smiles.

“Don’t worry. She’ll be fine, just cold feet maybe. Go, I’ll call you if we need anything, or Jarvis will let you know, okay?”

Yelena looks at Clint, a hard look that tells him she’s trusting him with this.

Backing up, she leaves and Clint knocks.

A secret knock that they use often.

The door unlocks.

He opens it and suddenly can’t breathe.

“You look beautiful.”

It’s an understatement.

Her hair braided, with small wisps coming down, make up done and in a dress that fits her perfectly.

He takes her hand, kisses it and guides her to sit on the side of the bath.

She’s not crying, she just looks sad.

“What happened?” he asks.

He draws circles on her hand, then starts tracing over her fingers.

“It’s going to go wrong. Good things can’t happen to me. If we do this,” she pauses.

“It’ll we do this, you’ll die. Something will happen to you. I’m the Black Widow.”

He shakes his head.

“Nat.”

She sighs.

“Tell me what you think will happen.”

“I don’t know. I just know it’s too good. You’re too good. You deserve someone who isn’t a void of bad.”

His heart is angry, and he doesn’t know how to dispute it in a way she’ll accept.

“What happened?”

Natasha glances at him.

“I was looking in the mirror, and nothing had happened. No one had broken in, no one had kidnapped one of us, and I kept thinking, what’s going to happen next?”

He stops the tracing and encourages her to do the same to him.

He sighs.

“Nat.”

“I know,” she sighs.

“I know it sounds stupid and we've made it this far, but I can’t help but think it. If you marry me, I’m dooming you.”

He laughs at that.

It seems to shake her.

“It is stupid,” he says seriously.

“Do you want to be with me?”

She looks at him and frowns.

“Of course.”

“Are you willing to risk doom for it?”

She hears her words repeated back at her.

Biting her lip, she looks to him.

“Yes,” she says, with a watery grin.

“I have you, and you have me. You know those stupid vows? You make me brave,” he tells her, “so doom is nothing with you by my side. You deserve good things.

I promise, okay?”

“I’m better because of you,” she thinks, the words of vows they spoke in what seems like a lifetime ago.

“We can do this, yeah? We can do this, and when we do, then…”

“I know… I know.”

Natasha stands.

“ I don’t want you to die.”

Clint smiles, taking her hand.

“If I die Nat, you can say I told you so, okay?”

Natasha nods.

“Are you ready?”

Yelena watches Clint and Natasha walk down the aisle.

Overcome with emotion, she cries openly.

She doesn’t care.

Half the people here she doesn’t know, and the other half look as teary as she does.

Pepper had admitted to her that all of them needed some happiness. That since 2012 every one of the Avengers had been flailing.

Since Clint and Natasha had admitted about being engaged, the wedding had been something they’d planned, kept tabs on, supported and gossiped about. It had provided hope for the future, and sometimes had supported grounding.

They couldn’t die, or break apart because they all had something to live for, to look forward to.

Yelena understood it.

Without hope, without that something to look towards, life became so much more difficult.

The words Maria speaks don’t feel rehearsed, and even Natasha cries as she talks.

Clint wipes away her tear, dabbing gently with a tissue.

Yelena sniffs.

She hadn’t expected to be emotional.

Offered tissues from Pepper (who always seems to know what to do), Yelena takes them and sighs.

She’s never been invited to a wedding.

Crashed them, sure.

Been on missions where they’d fabricated an invite.

But not this.

Natasha is the only family she has, and so this is likely the only wedding she’ll ever be invited to.

She dabs her eyes and takes a moment to look around.

The man with the eye patch, keeps looking at her and she ignores it hoping it’s just because he feels uncomfortable with public displays of emotion.

Steve sits next to Sam, both of them watching on in awe.

Bruce fiddles in his chair and she wonders if other emotions bring out the Hulk.

She turns back to the wedding, taking some candid pictures, even though she’s sure Pepper’s photographer has it handled.

Yelena feels that even though the wedding is small, everyone is here because they want to be.

Friends, found family, it’s a strange group of people.

She wonders if one day she’ll have this.

She hopes.

Natasha stands in front of her family and friends and tells Clint that she’ll be with him til death. He returns the words and finally Maria tells them to kiss.

Amongst the whoops and cheers and throwing of petals at them, Natasha can’t help but smile with Clint at the commitment they’ve just made.

He hugs her and kisses her again, to everyone’s delight and they walk out towards their friends leading the way to the grand room where they’d had Christmas lunch days earlier.

Now transformed, into a room fit for celebration, Natasha has no idea how Pepper did it.

Despite all the anxiety and fear to get to this point, she’s happy.

Glad they did it.

It’s the other shoe, finally dropping.

Except it’s not bad.

It’s good.

Clint glances at Natasha, taking her hand and leading her to the hallway.

“We did it!”

He picks her up and hugs her, relief evident on her face as he spins her and kisses her smiling face.

“You tell me when you’re ready,” he grins, and she nods.

“I want to check on Yelena and Tony, and we need to thank Pepper,” she tells him.

“Okay, I need to just tell Fury a few things, and we should thank Maria for doing such a good job.”

Natasha nods.

“She did. Maybe you can check on Gus too, he’s heading home tonight, I think Tony organised a car; maybe just make sure he’s aware.”

Clint looks past her down the hall.

“We’re so close Nat, just a little longer.”

They kiss again and split up, each with their own little list of things today.

She finds Yelena talking to Tony, and wonders when and how they became talking friends. Maybe being in an ordeal just makes it that way.

She talks to them for a bit, the pulls Yelena away.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Yelena tells her.

“It’s okay, it’s not goodbye,” she smiles.

Natasha shakes her head.

“Now I’ve found you, you’re stuck with me,” she replies.

“Plus, we need to talk about Isla.”

Yelena’s face turns serious.

“Yeah. I was talking to Tony about a weapon, and the trackers.”

Natasha nods, “that’s good.”

She hugs her again.

“Not too long, okay?”

Yelena bumps her head into Natashas.

“No, not too long.”

Clint approaches them, and Yelena spontaneously hugs him too.

“Congratulations, I guess,” she smiles.

“You’ll stick around for a bit?”

Yelena shrugs, “maybe a little.”

It’s a lie but they don’t call her on it.

Clint turns to Natasha.

“Ready?”

Natasha smiles.

“Ready.”

2014

OKINAWA

Okinawa is just as she remembered.

Beautiful beaches, lovely people and a relaxation that felt strange at first.

Her large oversized hat sits just over her head and she smiles as Clint runs in from the water.

Her husband.

What a concept.

“Next, you’re going to tell me that it’s time to build a sand castle,” she goads, handing him a towel.

He laughs ringing his hair out and laying next to her.

“What do you want for dinner?”

She shrugs.

“Whatever you want?”

Clint smiles, the sun shining as it sets.

He looks over to his wife.

He married the black widow.

“Sushi,” he decides.

Natasha nods.

“Perfect.”

They stand together, Clint holding out his hand and envelopes hers into it, bringing to his lips and kissing it gently.

“After you,” he grins.

45 notes · View notes

mochiimadness · 2 years

Note

W-what if the the rottmnt boys reacted to their s/o as a cat girl??

This…I like this.

Nyah!

Neon Leon

So so so many cat puns

“My s/o is the most purrfect person in the world!”

He calls you “kitten” “kitty” “kit-cat”

Yes, he’s cheesy like that.

He does get a bit nervous after realizing the puns might be a bit much

But you assure him it’s fine.

If you’re a hairless cat, he loves to get you warm sweaters

If you have fur, he absolutely adores your fur

Early on in your relationship, he would nervously give you a quick pet

And immediately back away in case you didn’t like it

If you did, he gives you the brightest grin you’ve ever seen

Loves to run his fingers through your fur

If you purr, he’ll freeze at first from shock before wrapping his arms around you and rubbing his cheek against yours

“You can purr?! I mean it makes sense but- that was so cute!”

He’ll try to get you to purr more often.

He also likes to try pranking you

You know the cucumber meme?

He will sneak cucumbers behind you to see if you get scared once you see them.

If you do, he’s caught it on video- and no he won’t delete it

“Leo!”

“But it’s funny!”

Likes to replicate cat memes with you

You agree but only if he replicates turtle memes too

“Deal.”

If you help the guys out in battle, he will jump aside

You’re clawing the life outta a paper ninja

Literally shredded them with your claws

Every ninja in the vicinity sprints away

“Kitty’s got claws! Reow!”

Most villains fear getting scratched by you

Leo’s so proud.

Aside from battles,

Leo loves to cuddle up on the couch with you

You two can and have taken up the whole couch.

“Leo not again!”

“Shhh, cuddle hours are in session.”

Don Tron

I see Donnie as a cat person

So when his s/o is a literal cat person???

He’s going to combust on the spot

Absolutely adores you

Sets up an area in his lab for you

Scratching posts and climbing towers built to your height

Plenty of comfy pillows and blankets

And of course-

✨boxes✨

“This is kinda stereotypical.”

Cue Donnie deflating

“Buuut….”

It’s honestly pretty fun????

Donnie is so glad you actually enjoy it

Was worried he may have offended you

He also loves to run his fingers through your fur

The texture of it just makes him feel so relaxed and happy

Feel free to sit on his lap every now and then, he’ll run his hand through your fur while working on his inventions

He makes you a laser at one point

Not just a light laser no no-

An actual laser

If you fight along side the turtles, you definitely bring your laser with you

Donnie will cackle like a mad scientist when you use it

“BEHOLD- MY LATEST MASTERPIECE FOR MY GLORIOUS S/O!!”

So proud.

One of his favorite things to do is watch movies/shows in bed with you

You two curl up in the covers and doze with the TVs playing in the background.

Will let you use his heat lamp

It’s very relaxing to just curl up under the heat lamp with him

Sleepy vibes very cozy 10/10

You two can also be found at ungodly hours of the night going through the kitchen

Leo just flips on the kitchens switch and sees you on the counter

Donnie's brewing a fresh pot of coffee in the back

You both hiss at the light

Leo screams

Fully believes you two are possessed.

You and Donnie end up making it a habit to spook his brothers every now and then.

Mystic Mike

Thinks you’re the most adorable cat person ever

He absolutely makes sweaters for you and lets you steal his own

Thinks you’re so cute in them

“Awww!!!”

He likes to make you little yarn bracelets to fidget with

Buys you a basket of yarn balls for you to play with

He’ll toss them for you

You two also sit and make bracelets together.

Loves to prank his brothers with you

You know how cats will slowly push a cup towards the edge of the table???

Yeah, y’all do that

“Mikey- you and your s/o better not knock over my cup again!”

“We would never!”

Cue you and Mikey shoving the cup off the counter and sprinting away

Don’t worry, y’all only do it with non breakable items

…at least now you do-

You two once covered the entire lair in yarn

Took an hour for the fam to even make it to the living room without tripping or getting tangled

You know that one meme with the cat making a smug face while having knifes pointed at it???

That’s y’all.

Aside from pranks and general hijinks-

Mikey loves to cuddle with you

You two steal nearly every pillow and blanket in the lair and find the coziest spot of the day to cuddle in

The couch? His room? Right in front of the TV? Donnie's lab? On the skate ramp?

If you two fits, you two sits.

In battle, Mikey once made a joke that his weapon is kinda like a yo-yo or a yarn ball- but more deadly

Since then, you two always make cat jokes whenever you team up together

He has thrown you (with your consent ofc) at enemies

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

He says, as you claw the villains face repeatedly

Villains avoid you two.

After a long day, Mikey loves to just bury his face in your fur and stay there for a good 30 minutes to a few hours

“Mikey.”

“Yes, my fuzz ball?”

“Fuzzball-? Mikey I can’t feel my legs.”

“Sorry!”

Don’t worry, once you get feeling back in your legs, you two can properly cuddle.

Big Red

Will coo over how adorable you are

He absolutely just picks you up and carries you everywhere

He can and has held you like the long cat meme

Loves to pet your ears if you let him

“They’re just so fuzzy!”

Will not mind if you just chill on his shoulder

Whenever you two cuddle, you somehow find a way to rest on his shell

He panicked the first time you did

“Aren’t my spikes hurting ya!?”

“Nah.”

Cats are like liquid

You literally just sink into the spaces between his spikes and chill there

After the first time, he’s chill with you using his shell as a bed.

After a long hard day, you’ll kneed his shoulders to help him relax

He thinks you give the best massages in the world

Has fallen asleep during this.

He’s so grateful that you don’t try to claw his face like the regular cats he’s met

Also enjoys petting you, but doesn’t do it often since he doesn’t want to offend or bother you

Very considerate

Does give you a lot of head pats though

Also adores your tail

Thinks it’s adorable

Loves how expressive you get since your ears and tail help display your emotions

Finds it especially adorable whenever you get excited

Takes photos of you when you’re really happy

He does think it’s hilarious when you get so startled, you literally jump a couple feet in the air

Will check on you ofc but still finds it funny

Has you as his background

He’s very worried about making sure he doesn’t offend you with anything

Doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s treating you as a pet

“Raph, you could never make me feel like I’m not a person too.”

Very sweet

You two often fall asleep with you either on his shell, or resting on his plastron with his arms around you.

In battle, he gets pretty worried about you

Until he sees you slicing away with your claws-

Villains fleeing in terror-

If you’ve been scratched by a cat, you know.

From then on, he knows you can hold your own

Still watches out for you ofc.

✨Bonus!✨

Splinter shrieks sometimes when you pop out of nowhere

In his years as a rat, cats have terrorized him rip

He may faint

Don’t worry though, he loves you like his own kid

You’re part of the fam now

April also loves to join in on pranks with you

You two have a compilation of pranking Splinter

I hope you enjoyed!! Sorry for the wait!

Oh to be a cat person s/o

Cat claws hurt rip

Reblogs appreciated! :3

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no-m4gic · 1 year

Note

Love the layout of your blog- anyway, could I request a character of your choice with an S/O whos scared of the dark and or has nightmares frequently?

thank yyyoouuu anon both for the compliment and this request, it's a really cute prompt AND I CAN FINALLY WRITE FOR MY FAVORITE BOY KOREKIYO :)) honestly i was never scared of the dark is that normal lol

was deciding to do one character per game but like i'm lazy... so you guys enjoy korekiyo for now! (i love him)

this is a GN s/o btw!

~ mod sitaya

KOREKIYO W/ A S/O WHO'S SCARED OF THE DARK

no because like he's literally the worse person to be around if you're scared of ghosts and the dark.

yeah he'll try to not talk about spirits and japanese legends around you at night.

he'll even flip his creepy ass paintings around or move them to a different room aww.

if you nightmares and you guys don't sleep in the same bed, you can go look for him in his room and he'll give you huggies and cuddles.

extra points for the above if it's raining heavily.

if you still can't fall asleep he'll get up just to make you hot cocoa... with marshmallows mm, lucky you i'm jealous.

he'll also make sure his hair doesn't like smack or poke you. he's more considerate than other long haired folk like izuru.

oh you need white noise? fear not, he'll just bring like a white noise machine or a fan in, whichever you prefer.

well since he doesn't want to disturb you while you're sleeping your full 8 hours, he'll turn his alarm off.

still can't sleep since you're a very light sleeper as light as a cloud? or you just wanna sleep in the day time? yeah no problem, kiyo's just gonna bring you on a late night drive in the rain.

maybe even stop by a open-24-hours convenient store to get like cup noodles or something.

kiyo likes his cup noodles alright.

once you finally start feeling sleepy, he'll tuck you in and turn the temperature colder or warmer, whichever you like, before leaving to do his own business.

so he'll stay up the entire night till early morning so you can have a good night's or i guess morning's, rest.

i found this picture while searching up danganronpa memes so enjoy kiyo, rantaro and shuichi exploring the vast lands of pocoyo's world.

i found this off pinterest... if you're the artist lmk so i can credit <3

#danganronpa x reader #danganronpa #korekiyo shinguuji x reader #korekiyo x reader #ily kiyooo <33 #thanks anon for giving me this opportunity #ILYSM KIYOO MARRY ME

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ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm · 1 year

Text

wip something somewhere

more from my draco in mundane apocalypses universe. draco works as ground crew at vienna airport. please imagine him in a little red suit. this draco really likes droney post punk

4:45pm, Mazur Parking Lot

All disasters start a little bit before the moment they occur on paper, not in the sense of a chain of misfortunes and oversights that lead to some offending spark, but at the atomic level, as some unspeakable but tangible ghostly drawback of energy, trailing ahead of the wave that will inevitably surge up and cover the shore. The air really does crackle, birds do fly the other way. Draco's little Citroen, which had been brought to some mundane level of sentience as a byproduct of his magical core, felt the change inside its little banged up french-made chassis, something tightening, something bracing. The Vienna sky hung gray and perpetually unimpressed overhead, the smokestacks from the refinery reaching up to meet the thick, pillowy mesh of contrails and exhaust fumes and mist. Draco dug around the cupholder for the other end of the aux cord, thumbed at the wheel of his iPod until Godspeed joined the rumble of the engine, a chorus of real and recorded mechanical sounds at war with the silent world. The rear view mirror catches his eye, a flock of black birds surging up from the field and over the highway signs.

7:56am, G gates, Vienna Airport

The days Draco has to work the G gates are the hardest. Being part of the ground airline staff at any airport is a swift and effective way to take the magic out of air travel, particularly when one is doomed to a uniform so bright red it messes with the sensors on the automatic doors. But there's just something particularly dreary about this corner of Vienna Airport, hidden behind three sets of escalators and passport control, reserved for budget lines to non-European countries and extreme long haul flights. The sleepy passengers who needed to be nudged into action are enough to deal with, as are the secondary document checks and nonsensical codes he's forced to scribble on boarding passes, but when supplemented with an immeasurable range of national particularities and quirks, the entire experience becomes unbearably meaningless. From the impotent divination of picking a seat in advance, to the arbitrary membership cards and priority lines that get people to the same nowhere fast, the tyranny of this muggle, modern world weighs on Draco like a mountain on his chest while he rattles off the boarding script. There, too, lies more tyranny - his melodic, nasaly German, his precise, aristocratic English, both of which he is instructed to use as a kind of impenetrable and impatient barrier against passengers who more often than not consist of foreign workers and elderly immigrants and refugees, when they aren't diplomats and backpacking kids. He spends his G gate days turning away grandmothers with misspelled names on their documents, wrenching his arm out of the grip of elderly passengers in wheelchairs sent off to go home from various hospitals on their own. He's not entirely clear on the math, but he's fairly sure that when the Ministry banished him to the continent and snapped his wand in half, the idea wasn't that he should ever find himself in any position of power again, not in the least one so mundane. The airport safety alert chimes for the third time this hour - they play it more often up here. A teenage boy dressed in dirty clothes sits next to an armed federal policeman on the black plastic bench by the giant glass window facing the direction of the Danube. The sky is always hazy on this side, the smoke from the refinery by the airport rolling lazily both downstream and up into the sky.

7:56am, OMV Schwechat Refinery, Vienna

Crude Oil Distillation Unit Operations Log

Status: Normal

Output: 8333.333 barrels per hour

Steam (kg/h): 700

Kerosene Boiling Point: 207

Date and Rating of Most Recent Water Pressure Test: 23/11, Satisfactory

#drarry #joyful fic #wip

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the-book-gnome · 2 years

Text

ACOTAR Husband Headcanons

Warnings: Just lots of fluff, some are a little suggestive but overall not to bad, pet names: sweetheart, darling, princess😽

Lucien

My boy Lucien would be the biggest cuddle lover in the world, he would literally trap you underneath his massive body just for a few extra minutes with you.

You're his favorite person in the entire world and he would prove that to you, he would buy you so many presents and he would always have a cute smile on his face when he watched you open them.

He would never let you wear a nightgown, the only thing in bed you get to wear are his shirts or nothing at all there’s no compromise

Every morning you would wake up by being showered in his kisses, he loves every inch of your body and he worships you like the goddess you are

He loves showing you off, he’ll brag to everyone about how lucky he is to have a mate/wife as beautiful and perfect as you. It would get to the point where people would have to tell him to shut up about you

He knows you love being called sweetheart and darling and he’s the type to say it in a sensual way every single time just to tease you

He often brings you breakfast in bed because he doesn't want you to have to do a lot of work ever

Cassian

He is the definition of a blanket hog, if he’s feeling generous he’ll give you a corner of the blanket

He likes to mess with you a lot so he’ll tell you he prepared you a warm bath and then when he drops you in the water it’s ice cold. He won’t help you get out or anything he’ll just be dying of laughter while you yell at him

When you’re reading a book or doing anything besides paying attention to him, he’ll bother you until you give up and talk to him

He will beat the shit out of anyone who takes bad about you or disrespects you without any hesitation (he’s very protective)

At night when he’s sleepy he is super clingy and will bear hug you on his massive bed so you can’t get away from him and half the time he ends up falling asleep on top of you so you can hardly breath

He loves you more than anything, cassian's the type to tell you that repeatedly until you truly believe him and even then he will never stop telling you that

Azriel

He always wakes up before you do, he likes to watch you sleep, you always look so calm and peaceful in your sleep and he doesn't want to do anything that will disrupt you

Whenever he is reading you will lay your head in his lap and curl your body into a ball, he always drapes one of his wings over, it coves you completely and hides you from the rest of the world. He loves knowing that he’s keeping you safe and protected

He often reads to you when you have trouble sleeping or have had a bad day, it puts you asleep very quickly

His shadows love you, every time you walk into the same room as him a few go straight to you and wrap around your body, keeping you safe

Azriel has a tendency to keep you from everyone, he likes having you all to himself

When he has to go away for a few days he leaves some shadows with you just so he knows you're safe, when he gets back he always finds you right away no matter how tired or hungry he is. He’ll scoop you in his arms and sit down somewhere, holding you as tightly as possible

Rhysand

Rhys will always wake up with you if you have a bad dream, he’ll hold you and go inside your head to comfort your mind as well as your body, he won’t go back asleep until he’s sure you’re okay

He always wants to be touching you in anyways he can, even if it’s just his hand on your back

Rhys will pinch or flick you every time you say something snarky to him, but he always leaves a kiss on your forehead

If you’re feeling sick he will not let you off of your bed, if you want a bath then he’ll carry you, if you want something to eat, he will bring it to you, he will will pester you to figure out what’s wrong

Rhys loves watching you bathe, it’s not always in a sexual way he just likes to watch you for some reason

At family dinners he’ll talk to you in your head and make you laugh, you two have very similar humor and if someone says something stupid all he has to do is look at you and you both burst out laughing

Helion

Helion loves to show you off, he’ll buy the most expensive outfits just so he can see you in them, he will talk about you all the time telling everyone how perfect you are( he’s worse then Lucien)

He’s very big on pda, he likes to show people that your his and he’s yours, if anyone says anything about it he’ll prove it to them 😏

He loves sitting out on his balcony with you even if your you two are wearing is a bed sheet, he’ll hold you in his lap and stroke your hair until you fall asleep while he whispers sweet words to you

He loves calling you princess or his love, he knows you like it when he calls you that too so he does it a lot

He has no problem sharing you as long as you and the other person know that you belong to him and no one else, if you ever get overwhelmed from things like that he’ll be there every second calming you down and assuring you

Helion would take you on rides with his Pegasus, as many times as you want because your wish is his command, he’ll do anything to hear you laugh or see you smile

#azriel #rhysand #cassian #lucien vanserra #helion #fluff

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vinegar-on-main · 16 days

Note

fynn thoughts. now.

I ASSUME YOU MEAN FLYNN FROM SMT IV AND HELLO YES HI I am going to be talking major spoilers for SMT IV and by extension Apocalypse during this.

If you have any desire to play or watch me play the game (@beantothemax and by extension @meme-boys-blog you have clearance) I suggest you do not engage.

For the record, i haven't beaten SMT IV Apocalypse yet, so most of my opinions will come from SMT IV and the few glimpses I got of him during gameplay so far.

Favorite thing about them Almost every single NPC in Tokyo talks about how polite he is, almost unbearably so if you refuse healing from Hunters Associations. Every dialogue option is so very polite and formal.

Least favorite thing about them GOOD LORD I wish we got to see more of Past!Flynn in the Neutral route. I mean I got a couple more scraps of info from Apocalypse, but I need to know the kid's relationship with Masakado and/or Skins and Fujiwara.

Favorite line Hes a bit of a silent protagonist, but he does say stuff about Relics that you find around Tokyo. They're so silly. Try guessing which one is which!

"Could it be to protect one from feces?"

"Bizarre-smelling sand."

"Could it be a uniform for some sort of ritual?"

"A very bouncy object."

"Could it be seaweed?"

"....."

"A squishy carpet"

brOTP Mentioned this in the Isabeau writeup, but yeah. Isabeau. They've gone through so much, they're basically besties at this point.

OTP HEY GUYS YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE SO TRAGIC??? I love Flynn/Issachar. I love the inherent tragedy in it. I can see them going off and being Samurai together like they dreamed but alas, the world is not so kind... In fact it is so much Crueler than they think! nOTP Shipping Flynn with Walter or Jonathan. Like sure I can see it, but I think those two are more in love with Chaos or Law respectively. Again, please change my mind! I love hearing different opinions to mine!

Random Headcanon Flynn never really talked to people when he was a kid. Issachar approached him one time at like a town meeting and Issachar made it his mission to be friends with him. Flynn immediately opened up as soon as Issachar brought him out into the woods to hunt for Cool Bugs.

Unpopular opinion If you say any other ending is canon you CLEARLY haven't played neutral. And yeah i mean i get you neutral ending is hard to get and a bit of a slog, but new game plus is RIGHT THERE. And there's a BILLION guides on how to get neutral.

Song I associate with them

Just... Lets just say i drafted out an entire animatic to this song.

Favorite Picture of them

Sleepy... Having dreams about Things Screaming in his face... In all seriousness i think you know what is my fav picture:

Yes, i had to hunt through my files to see my darling boy smile again. He deserves it. Look at him, Hes so happy. About .5 seconds later he is beaten within an inch of his life. :(

#ask game answers #smtiv #Flynn smt #smt #shin megami tensei #megaten #smt iv #asks

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infiniteelsinore · 2 months

Text

> You're at Roxy's, snuggled up with her in her extremely plush and pink bed, no lights on except the dull twinkling of RGB strips set to deep blues. You'd had a nightmare and showed up at her window, she'd hugged you into her tits until your fight or flight brain fucked off, and neither of you had bothered to move more than a few inches since. Why bother, when she can un-Void anything the two of you would need anyways?

Right now you're propped up on pillows and she's curled up against your side. At some point one of you would bite the bullet and pick something to actually fucking do, be that vidya or watching one of your comfort things for the billionth time, but for the time being you're idly cuddling and small-talking, letting her sleepy lovey dovey affections turn your brain into mush.

Her hand wanders over your stomach at some point, and squishes it appreciatively. The brain mushening is already strong enough that it does nothing but make you hum a gay little noise. You can pratically feel the way she perks up at that, and she immediately doubles down on the attention, nuzzling up to you with a smile, batting her lashes and everything.

"Aww, my sweet Dirky boy's getting a lil' chubby, isn't he?"

That's. Really fucking hot, actually. Why is that so fucking hot.

Because like. Objectively no, you're not. You're still entirely slim, your abdomen is just relaxed enough for everything to be pokeable. Sub-jectively, though, you've put on a little winter weight and have been actively trying to keep it. You fucking love how its filled you out- the way your arms look stronger and how it balances out the extra curve on your hips and ass, your thighs getting the best of both worlds. It's heady and euphoric when you notice the difference in the mirror, a weird new kind of turn-on to the tune of actually liking yourself.

But that still doesn't mean you know how to respond to that.

It kind of doesn't matter. While you were rolling shit around in your mind palace, Roxy apparently decided to sneak up the hem of your shirt, and then bite down on the most pinchable part of your belly.

Fuck.

#🟠[d].#did i ever make a tag for this shit. i forgor

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creoterative · 2 years

Text

20 Incorrect Pokemon Quotes

Info: These are not mine, I just altered the characters in them, I got them from tumgir.com. Still, was a lot of fun making these, and especially because I could put a lot of Paul into it, am so hyped right now for 10th of June. Maybe I’ll even push myself to get the next chapter for the Lambda Core ready a little bit earlier.

Ash: I lost my girlfriend, Misty. Can you help me find them?

Random stranger: What do they look like?

Ash: bEAUTIFUL!?

---

Ash, Banging on the door: Paul, open up!

Paul: It all started when I was a little boy...

Ash: No, I meant-

Dawn: Let him finish.

---

Paul: I've never been in a snowball fight before.

Dawn: Really?

Paul: So is there a point system or is it to the death?

---

*Paul walks into the house, covered in mud and probably blood, has some small cuts and bruises on his body and face*

Maylene: *Stops talking with Reggie and looks at Paul* What did you do?

Paul: Ok you have to promise me you won't get mad.

Reggie: Paul, what. Did. You. Do.

Paul: So I was minding my own business-

Reggie, Slams hands down onto the table: BULLSHIT!

Paul: I WAS!?

---

Barry: Hey did it hurt?

Dawn: ...? When I fell from heaven?

Barry: No, when you fell from the vending machine.

Dawn, Confused: ...

Barry: Cause you're a snacc~

---

Reggie: You're awfully quiet today.

Paul: No one plans a murder out loud.

---

Dawn, Eating a cinnamon roll: *Munch*

Conway: Cannibalism.

Dawn: *Confused chewing noises*

---

Paul: wHO AtE mY gODDaMN FrIeS?! You wanna go-

Dawn: I did.

Paul: -On a date with me? We can get more fries if you want?

---

Paul: Do you have the time?

Reggie: For you, Paul? Are you joking? Paul, I would always make time for you. My time is precious but you are more so. Paul, you... are a shining pearl in a sea of mediocrity. I would do anything for you. *Wipes tear*

Paul: Thanks, but like what time is it?

---

Paul: I'm really into dark humour.

Ash, Turning off the light: Hey, do you wanna hear a joke?

---

Ash: *SLAPS the whiteboard*

Whiteboard: Cockle.

Ash: Cockle.

Paul: Mhm.

Paul: Gee, Ash, I wonder why that could possibly be your favourite word?

Gary: IT'S GOT 'COCK' RIGHT IN THE FRONT. RIGHT AT THE BEGINNING!

Ash: It means-

Barry: IT'S GOT COCK!

Barry: U do NOT care about the meaning. It's got cock in it.

Ash: IT MEANS!

Ash: ...

Ash:'To bugle out in certain places'.

Paul: *Puts his head in his hands*

Barry: ...

Gary: ...

Gary: Like a COCK-

Ash: Like a COCK-

---

Ash: You think just because you ask for my attention that I'm going to give it to you?

Misty: Damn straight!

---

Ash: 'Sleepy' is so much better & cuter than 'Tired' everyone needs to stop using 'Tired' and start saying 'Sleepy' instead.

Paul: I'm sleepy of your shit.

---

Reggie: *Knock knock*

Maylene, sniffing: Who is it?

Reggie: Uh *Looks back at Paul* Who is it?

Paul: Say it's the tax people.

Reggie: The taxes.

Maylene: You can't come in.

Paul: Tell them we gonna fucking kill their entire family if they don't let us in!

Reggie: We have cookies~

---

Conway: What's the time?

Ash: Lemme check.

Ash: *Pulls out saxophone*

Ash: *REALLY LOUD SAXOPHONE NOISE*

Paul: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING A SAXOPHONE AT 2 IN THE MORNING!!??

Ash: It's 2!

Conway: Uhh... Thanks Ash!

Ash: No problem~

---

Reggie: Ask me why I love you.

Maylene: Why do you love me?

Reggie, Opening a 200 slide Powerpoint: I'm glad you asked.

---

Dawn: Is there a word that's a mix between sad and mad?

Ash: ...Smad?

Paul: Malcontented, disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Brock: No, It's smad!?

---

Paul: I invited you back to the living world because I crave the deadliest game.

Ash: Knife monopoly?

Paul: I was actually gonna hunt you down for sport, but now I'm really interested in whatever knife monopoly is.

---

Reggie: Paul, I know you think you're helping but stop it.

Paul: I don't think I'm helping.

---

Barry: Rules are made to be broken.

Paul: Rules are made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken.

Ash: Uh, pinatas?

Conway: Glow sticks.

Dawn: Karate boards!

Misty: Spaghetti when you have a small pot.

Barry: Rules!

#pokemon paul #pokemon ash #Ash Ketchum #pokemon conway #Pokemon Dawn #pokemon barry #pokemon brock #pokemon journeys #pokemon anime #incorrect quotes

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andromedaexists · 1 year

Text

WUPDATE: CALL ME ICARUS

𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟸𝚝𝚑 || 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜?

aaaaaaaaaa I am so tired this week, y'all. Idk why the universe has decided to make me a sleepy boy but it did lol

I've also been sucked back into the world of Bungou Stray Dogs this week for no reason other than the fact that I just love a certain character with my entire being

So not a lot of new writing happened, but we did get introduced to the last 2 of the main characters! Which means we're getting close to the end of book one...

Anyways, snippet as always under the cut!

"Holy shit, we’re dead,” that explained so much. Why Icarus had run into so much trouble trying to acquire any form of ID. Why Dimetor told him to lay low and try not to be noticed. It wasn’t just because ATLAS was looking for him, no, but because he was a dead man walking the streets.

For a brief moment, Icarus felt an overwhelming sensation of relief. If they were legally dead, that meant they could just leave. That was why Apollon never came looking for him, and at this point he never would. He, and Andromeda if they so wished, could just leave the city. Make a life somewhere new where no one knew their past. Make a humble life for themselves instead of risking everything to abolish the systems that harmed them.

He took in a shuttering breath, allowing himself that fantasy before reminding himself that a life like that wasn’t possible for him. He would be riddled with guilt if he were to leave Achilles behind. Especially since he had made an attempt to reach out to someone he believed was long dead.

“We’re dead. But that doesn’t matter,” he started focusing in on the letter. In the grand scheme of things, being legally dead might actually help them. Being dead meant that even if they left DNA behind while breaking Achilles out, it would be useless. After all, how would a dead kid leave DNA?

“What matters is getting the kid out,” he said and looked up at Andromeda. They looked sad, as if their train of thought went in the same direction his did when they realized they were legally dead. “I can’t leave him behind. We have to get him out.”

Taglist:

@/flowerprose @/isherwoodj @/cream-and-tea @/touchingmadness @/lockejhaven @/marinesocks @/wildswrites @/the-finch-address @/writingpotato07 @/leighvalentin @/inkspellangel @/cljordan-imperium @/outpost51 @/alleahgrinnon

Please fill out this form to be added or ask to be removed!

#call me icarus #wip update #writing #writeblr #wip excerpt #dark fantasy #wupdate #andi writes

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arwenkenobi48 · 1 year

Text

“My poor baby boy…” Amsel murmured, holding me close as I shivered from the menstrual cramps. “It feels disgusting,” I whispered, feeling horribly lethargic. “I know, sweetheart. There there, it’s going to be ok, little one.” Amsel gently kissed my forehead. “I really wanted to be able to pray on the last ten days.” I sniffled. “Well, even if you can’t read the salat, I’m sure you’ll still be able to make some du’a.” Amsel pointed out. “Don’t despair, my dearest. This isn’t as bad as it seems.”

“It feels pretty bad.” I admitted, curling up in his arms to the best of my ability. “Aww, I know, baby boy. Don’t you fret. Daddy’s here for you. We’ll get through this together, I’m sure we will.” “Thank you, Amsel,” I whispered, nuzzling him gently. “You still got that copy of The Pit And The Pendulum?” “Ja, I have. Shall I read it to you, my love?” I smiled, hugging him. “Yes please, songbird.”

With that, Amsel began reading to me, his soft, deep voice caressing my ears, tucking a blanket around my mind and gently soothing me into a calm, sleepy state. I’d always found the works of Edgar Allan Poe fascinating and chilling, but having my husband read them to me always made me feel safe and relaxed. It was like I didn’t have to be afraid of the scary stories because he was there to protect me.

I smiled, my head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. As he continued reading, I felt my eyes fluttering shut. Some time passed as my mind drifted in a peaceful haze, before I felt Amsel gently caress my cheek. Telepathically, he asked: “Are you asleep, baby boy?” Smiling sleepily, I mentally replied: “Almost.”

Amsel chuckled softly, kissing my forehead. “It’s alright, sweetie. You can sleep for me. Goodnight, little one.” He began humming Storybook Love from The Princess Bride, gently cuddling me close until I dozed off entirely, safe and sound in his loving arms, ready to awaken once I was fully rested and face the world again.

#romantic f/o #oc: Amsel #my songbird #wholesome #comfort #I need this #*spooning with Amsel as he softly sings to me*

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goldkirk · 1 year

Text

Legend Has It - Chapter 3

[ Read on ao3 ]

run, boy, run

He’s happy here. He’s happier than he’s ever been before, happier than he’s ever felt in his life, he didn’t know it was even possible to feel like this. Everything is so, so good.

-----

It was admittedly a bit of a shock when he reached the end of the tunnel, portal, whatever you want to call it, and stepped right into his own hallway all over again. And a bit more of a shock when he’d followed the smell of something good cooking to the normally dark kitchen and found his mother flying between the oven, the stove, the island, actually cooking.

And he admits without shame the noise that came out of his throat when he asked, Mom?, and Janet had turned around with soft wispy flyaways, a warm smile, and enormous, pitch-black buttons where her eyes should have been.

But that was before.

Tim had rallied quickly, and realized--

Is this an alternate universe, he’d asked, dazed, after Janet--if she was Janet--had smiled even wider and come to hug him after she turned around, and gone so far as to say you’re here at last, my baby boy, I’ve been waiting for so long!

She hummed at his question and patted him on the shoulder, pushing him gently into one of the nearby chairs, and said, something like that.

Who are you, he’d asked.

I’m your mother, dear heart, she’d replied, and pulled a batch of banana bread muffins out of the oven in one smooth motion. Tim’s mouth watered.

You’re not my mother, he said, staring at the pan. My mother is out of the country. And doesn’t cook. And doesn’t have--

Buttons? Janet had finished for him, turning back around again with a grin and tapping one long, bright red nail against one of hers.

...Buttons, Tim agreed.

Well of course I’m not her, Janet said. I’m your Other Mother. Everyone has one.

And so it began.

-----

Janet--Other Janet--teaches Tim to do more than just talk to the ghosts, since there aren’t actually any here that he’s found so far. She tells him about the magic creatures he’s never noticed before until she points them out for the first time. She tells him about crystals and how he can use them to store away a little bit of his own light each day so he has extra if he needs it for something big. She even keeps those crystals safe for him, tucked somewhere he won’t lose them on accident. She teaches him about animals, more, the rules for resurrection, equivalent exchanges of energy, that the whole world has a price.

Except her love, of course. She loves him so very, very much.

Other Jack welcomes Tim every time the boy knocks on his study door. He plays tag with Tim in the garden, they wash up together for meals with Other Janet, they read books and talk about movies and go see the mountains, even, and Tim spares just a single thought for his father, back home, over in Turkey, he thinks, and wonders if--if--

It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. Tim can stay here as long as he likes, with his Other Mother and Other Father and beautiful days and a real birthday cake with ten whole candles, and shells on the edges, and careful piping that reads Happy Birthday, Tim! with just the tiniest smudge on the curl of the second y where Tim had laughed too hard at a story and accidentally bumped Other Mother’s arm earlier.

Tim has birthday cake and parents who want to talk to him and a world that’s just like his, in all the ways that matter, and he runs after Other Batman and Other Robin at night and takes the best photos of his entire life. And they save people even better than they did back in his old home.

Tim eats Other Janet’s cooking and lets it fill him up, looks forward to how warm and sleepy and content he always feels after her real, home-cooked dishes. Looks forward to the times when he’s so sleepy afterwards that Other Jack scoops him up sometimes and carries him off for a nap or bedtime without Tim even having to learn to ask.

No one has carried Tim to bed in a long, long time.

He’s got good parents, now, and he can’t believe he didn’t realize he didn’t have them before. Having this, now, these things, this life, this happy dream, here--Tim tells Other Mother that he never wants it to end.

I’m so glad, she tells him. Serves him a second slice of rich pudding cake, and he sleepily picks up his fork and takes another bite, humming with contentment.

I’ve waited so long to get to have you here, she says, stroking his hair with long fingers and sharp nails and a caress of his cheekbone. You don’t have to go back. You can stay here with us forever. We want you. You’re perfect, Timothy. My dear one.

Tim can’t even describe what it feels like, to hear those words, from her mouth, in this kind of place.

He’s wanted. He’s wanted . She wants him.

Good, he mumbles, slumping in his seat, eyes already at half mast.

There’s just one thing you have to do, Janet says. And then you can stay here forever, just like the rest of us.

What is it, he asks, and Other Father is stepping closer, ready to carry Tim off to bed the second Other Mother says so.

Other Mother pulls a small box out of some pocket Tim didn’t notice before, and slides it across the space between them, and smiles.

He opens the wooden lid, stares down at the two black circles nestled against white satin, and something--something somewhere deep, deep inside his brain makes one small, quiet attempt at an alarm bell. The rest of him is too warm and sleepy to light the rest of the beacons of Minas Tirith, and the alarm remains nothing more than a small niggle, just a tiny bit of discomfort.

You just need to join us properly, Other Mother murmurs, leaning forward till she’s just inches away from his face. You just need to let me sew in your buttons, baby. They’ve been waiting for you for a long, long time. I hand-picked them for you myself.

Tim stares hazily at the buttons, seeing them start to flicker with colors, as she explains she can make them any color he wants, reaches for the spool of thread nestled between them, smiles and moves to thread a needle--and Tim says--Tim says--

Wait, Tim slurs. Other Janet freezes, and the smile slides off her face like something slimy slithering down a rock.

I just--I’m tired, tonight, Tim tries. I do want to stay, I do, but--could I sleep first, and think about it? I want to make sure I pick the right color, and--and spend a day or two with my old eyes before I say goodbye all of a sudden. Is that--

Other Mother stares at him with her button eyes that he can’t read, and he’s much more aware of Other Father inches behind him than he was a few minutes ago.

Tim swallows.

Is that okay? he asks, in a very small voice.

Other Mother smiles again, but there’s something--a little sharper, about it this time, he thinks, something with an edge, because he knows Janet Drake’s faces back home and he knows that this one means he’s done something wrong, but not quite wrong enough to require correction in front of company .

Of course, she tells him, though. That’s perfectly understandable. Let your father take you up to bed, now, and sleep well, Timothy. You’ll need your rest, you’re a growing boy with lots of energy to replenish.

Yes, mother, he says, limp in Other Father’s arms as they turn towards the door.

For just a brief second, he could almost swear he sees a many-legged shadow flicker past on the dining room walls. But then he blinks, and turns his head, and if there was anything there at all, it’s already gone.

That night there are the rocket ships flying through his bedroom air as usual, twinkling their little trails of sparks, and the fireflies at the edges. And there are the rats, in all the shadows, with their glowing red eyes like laser pointers, scratching and scraping and hissing quietly under his dresser, his bed, by the baseboard, within his walls. Tim sleeps on with a frown.

-----

That night there is the sleepy haze of Other Mother’s comfort food, and the tiny bit of his mind that shouted danger, danger, you have to run, and a nagging question of where are all the ghosts, he thought he’d meet them by now, and if Batman and Robin were here, too, just like home--

Why do they not shine like suns?

Tim jerks awake out of his half-doze and sits up, over-thick duvet bunching under his arms and around his waist, damp with his sweat, and he yanks his hands up over his ears trying to block out the sound of the rats, the scratching and the whispering and the rats rats rats, he doesn’t even like rats--why are they in his room--

How did he not notice. How did he not notice that Other Batman and Other Robin don’t glow. This whole time, he never noticed, never saw...because he never looked.

Tim stops breathing. He fights against the cottony fog in his head that suddenly feels anything but warm and comforting now, and he thinks, what have I not seen.

“Get out,” Tim whispers, so hoarse it’s almost inaudible. He glares at the glowing eyes he can see in the darkness, starts waving his arms in jerky motions. “Get out,” he repeats, stronger. “Get out, get out, get out!”

The hissing is louder, and Tim huddles in the center of his too-soft mattress while the awful, wheezing, high-pitched voices rise up around him again, how did he never notice how horrible they are--

We have eyes and we have nerveses,

We have tails and we have teeth.

You will get what you deserveses,

When we rise from underneath.

Tim chokes on his breath and flings off the duvet. He stands on the bed on shaking legs, fighting the haze, fighting his vague terror, and forces himself to keep his eyes open and keep that extra sort-of-sense online and stare around his room and look .

It’s all--it’s all--

Tim’s on his bare feet, sprinting, flying, fleeing, his sweaty hair stinging as it slaps into his eyes, he’s gasping, heaving for air, and behind him there’s the sound of snicking, clicking, clacking--

Something metal, something insect, something fast and large and laughing--

Tim sprints down the hallways, the fake hallways, the tangled, ugly messes of rotted wood and draped moldy fabric and a hundred thousand things that smell like death and don’t glow, nothing glows at all, here, it sucks and sucks and sucks.

He sprints and he gasps and behind him he hears the rushing monster, finally, after all this time, when he was blind--blind as he would have been if the buttons had already been installed, isn’t that a joke--

“Don’t run from your mother, Timothy,” he hears, in the voice that is nothing like his mother’s, after all.

(But isn’t that what he wanted . Isn’t that why he fell .)

“I love you,” the monster sing-songs. “I love you so much. Come let me show you how much I love you--everything is so much clearer with nice, simple buttons instead of pesky, nasty eyes.”

-----

Tim tries, at least. He hopes it counts. Matters, somehow. That he tried to run. He did.

He made it partway through, before Other Mother started shifting reality too much and he found himself sliding down strands of a web, running straight off the edge of a Gotham roof, and he still kept running, but even Tim with his sight couldn’t outrun Other Batman and Other Robin.

He escapes one time before Other Robin pins him down, with black empty buttons and no grin or snappy words on his lips. Tim stares up with watering eyes as his body aches and his head bleeds and Other Mother raises a threaded needle, while Other Robin pins him down, while Other Batman watches from the side, face blank, head empty, soul--soul not there at all, is it, never was, not one second of all these days and nights--

-----

Tim almost wishes he didn’t remember, tonight, to look for the first time in too long, wishes that he didn’t realize that everyone here, Other Father and Other Batman and Other Robin and all the other Others he’s met--everyone is empty.

There are no colors. Not in anyone. Not even just one or two. They’re just sacks, husks, the opposite of alive, and not even having the good grace to be dead, because they never were real in the first place, not at all.

-----

Tim’s pinned under Other Robin’s weight, and Other Batman’s off to the side, silently watching, mouth sewn shut and button eyes looking pained, somehow, under the spots where the cowl’s been turned into tattered rags, and Tim looks up at Other Robin, Robin, a Robin he believed in, a Robin he loved.

He looks up at his Robin that he followed and admired and was so proud of, this whole time, and he looks at Other Robin who is sand and cloth and buttons for eyes and nothing inside him but black, black black, the Beldam’s tool of the moment, the one she knows will hurt Tim the most, and Tim is so sorry for him. And for Batman. And for everyone else in this horrible nightmare world of a spiderweb, everyone brought to not-life just to serve the Beldam whether they want to or not, whether they agree or not, because in the end, Batman had tried to stop, hadn’t he, Tim could swear it.

Everyone brought to not-life here for nothing but pain, all because of Tim--it’s not their faults Tim was stupid, that they were brought into a cursed half-life as nothing but puppets to feel and cause pain--

Tim looks up as Other Robin stares down, black and buttoned and empty all over, and he’s sad and he’s sorry and he loves them all so much that he feels something snap .

And something funny happens, then.

Robin and Batman--they come to life.

-----

The needle has pierced in and out of the skin above Tim’s left eye, burning, jabbing, punching, and he’s squeezed his eyes shut with ragged breaths and just a vague hope that it won’t hurt too much, in the end, which is coming rather a lot sooner than he’d hoped.

But there’s a gasp, suddenly, and then a very loud thud, and the sound of a lot of metal clattering together all at once. And then suddenly the needle has slid right back out the way it came.

Tim snaps his eyes open, and he’s--he’s looking up at Robin’s teal eyes, his real eyes, eyes that Tim has seen at galas and school and on newspaper stands, and Robin’s mask is still missing, but his eyes--he has eyes--

And Batman, he’s got all his skin back where it belongs, not sagging all over anymore like melted candle wax, and his eyes are so, so ice blue, it almost hurts--

“Up,” hisses Robin, frantic and rushed, reaching out with his gloved hands and yanking Tim up before he can even say a word. “She’s only down for a moment. She’s coming, she’s coming, we have to get you out.”

-----

They run and they dodge and Tim hears the rats, hears Other Mother and the sound of dying puppets and horrible laughter and horrible screeching, feels his heart beating out of his ribs.

They run, Robin and Batman and Tim, all in a little unit, linked together, ducking and dodging and leaping. And they fight Her, they fight like the cornered animals they are, for life and for freedom and for a chance at not this hell, and there’s the door.

There’s the door, but it’s too far--

Robin locks eyes with Tim for just a moment, while the web shakes and shudders beneath them, both of them clinging for dear life. And Jason Todd smiles a very small, very human smile, shouts thank you over the ringing chaos of Other Mother’s screeches as she comes one strand nearer, then nods with a glance over Tim’s shoulder.

And then he flings himself, screaming like a banshee, straight at the Other Mother’s head.

Tim’s swept up the next second into warm arms, like a child, hears a gravelly, whispered run, and then there’s a grunt and he’s hurtling towards the door, into the moldy, rotting tunnel full of cobwebs, sliding sliding sliding falling until he crashes out the other side, filthy and panting and slamming into the opposite hallway wall.

The door slams itself shut, and he scrambles on all fours to reach its knob, to jam the key in the lock and turn so hard with his hands and his swirling, screaming extra sense that the key snaps at the handle.

And suddenly it all vanishes, even the key in Tim’s fingers, and he falls over against the wall, sick and panting and unsure what time it is, what day it is, how long it’s been and how much of that was real, even though he knows the answer is all of it.

He thinks, she used them, she knew they were my heroes and she used them, and they couldn’t even fight. And then he thinks, I brought them to life, I didn’t know I could do that, I brought them--I think I brought them to life, and they just sacrificed themselves, and they didn’t get the chance to live--

Tim thinks, I killed them. I killed them I killed them I killed them. And he tips over onto his side on the hallway floor, takes in a shuddering, gasping breath, and begins to finally sob.

-----

Tim gets the worst fever of his entire life after that, alone in the Drake estate with ripped, filthy clothes and dried blood by his eyebrow, and he drags himself to bed alone and shakes violently on top of the pristine duvet.

He thinks, I killed them, he thinks, I was happy, he thinks I should never have gone, I should have listened to Mother, I should have stopped it all that day and never touched any of the things again, I can’t do this, I can’t, not ever again--I have to stop, make it stop, make it stop, make it STOP--

Martha flies through the wall of his bedroom, with Thomas just a half-second behind, and they kneel beside Tim, speaking, pleading, trying to cool him as best they can with their icy hands and ask again and again, what happened, what happened, Timmy, where were you, no one could feel you at all for a few hours, Timmy, where are you hurt--

He doesn’t open his eyes, never answers, never sees them that night.

-----

They sit vigil anyway, curled around him, one on each side, trying to help the only way they can. Even though he’s not their son, even though he’s not one of them, they can at least do this much and try to make sure he keeps breathing through the night.

-----

Make it stop, he mumbles, over and over and over in his fever haze, until he finally falls asleep after sunrise starts to lighten the air at the very edges of his curtains.

-----

Timothy Jackson Drake, age ten years, parents overseas, homework not quite done, wakes up the next morning a perfectly ordinary boy. He has no memory of a key or a door or a dead bird in the garden, and he follows Batman and Robin and he turns in his homework on time and when things flicker, some days, at the corner of his sight, he tells himself it’s just the light playing tricks on him, that’s all, and goes on that way for the better part of the next few years.

And then Batman vanishes. And Robin vanishes. And the news says that Jason Todd, second son of famous billionaire Bruce Wayne, was killed this week in a tragic explosion over in Ethiopia, so tragic, how terribly, terribly sad.

-----

Tim goes to bed grieving, every night before the funeral. He doesn’t sleep at all on the day itself. And then for two nights afterward, he cries himself to sleep and doesn’t dream much while he lies curled up under an old quilt in the center of his just-right bed.

Until his self-made blockade slips, just a fraction, while he’s too deep in sleep, just enough to let his soul say oh, hello, there’s someone here, I think I know you--I think I need to hear--

A ghost is in his room for the fourth day in a row, since Martha brought him there and told him to wait. And Tim’s dimmed-down glow flares back up, at last, and the ghost stands from where he’d curled up by the wall and comes over to join Tim on the bed, watching him breathe slow in his sleep.

“Tim?” the ghost asks, hesitantly. “You don’t know me, but--well, I guess you do know me, kind of, which is really weird, by the way, you’re such a little stalker--but, um. Martha said you’re a good kid, and you do a lot of good for people like us, and that I could trust you, and that I ought to tell you thanks for caring all these years, so--so here I am. I guess.” He takes a breath, then slowly reaches out one hand, and hovers it just above Tim’s heart, the brightest glowing spot in the center of his chest.

“Tim,” the ghost says. “Please. I really need your help.”

#tim drake #magic tim drake #dc #haunted houses

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