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persnicketypomelo · 1 year

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Yoooooo!!!U are too sweet to me, @persnicketykumquat ! And my week went well, thank you!♡ I do hope your week is wonderful too, and if not, that's okay. A new week is coming in with more adventures and joy!^^ . I am greedy again, dear... hehehe... I uh would like to see ur perspective of an unrequited love of yn with our Severus Snape.. Since his love for Lily is so deep... like the bottom of the ocean deep, lol. If not, it's cool, yo! I am happy with anything u have! THANK YOU!!! With love ~~☁️

Yet again, you've managed to pick one of my favorite characters to request. It truly is a miracle, haha. I hope you like this one too :)

spoilers, kidnap, obsession

Yandere Snape Headcanons

Snape is a cold and decidedly unfriendly individual

The parental neglect and bullying he experienced as a child forever shaped him

Depending on what time you meet him in his life, how he might form an obsession with you would alter

During his adolescence, I think it would be unlikely he would grow such a strong attachment to anyone other than Lily

Doing so would be a betrayal to his childhood love, even though his feelings were not reciprocated

I think the most interesting scenario would be if you were a muggle, wholly separated from the wizarding world, unaware of the dark conflict brewing in the realm of wizards and witches

Although he undoubtedly has a certain disdain for muggles, he is not such a pureblood fanatic as the people he associates with

Perhaps he sees you in public, and some resemblance you bear to his long lost love makes him falter in his tracks

Your wide, doe-like eyes, your hair, your smile...

Regardless of what it is, he feels some stirrings in his heart

He would very much try to resist his feelings

Emotional impulses are a weakness, he has always believed, and he won't dare fall to the ranks of dunces that are slaves to the whims of their hearts

But he can't seem to get your image out of your head

Even in his sleep, nightmares of you and Lily haunt him

Maybe that's why he finds himself tailing you, trying to observe your daily activities

Snape finds knowledge to be a form of power, and knowing all the minute details about you puts him more at ease…both through stalking and Legilimency

He wouldn't even be conscious that he is developing a powerful obsession with you, as his emotional awareness leaves much to be desired

Severus isn't sure what he expects to find--maybe evidence of you casting some sort of curse on him that haunts his mind

Unsurprisingly, he finds nothing—only your complete oblivion of the wizarding world

Even knowing you can't possibly be a threat, he still finds himself tracing your steps and watching you from afar

I see his obsessive tendencies manifesting in two vastly different ways

Firstly, he could continue watching over you from afar, keeping you out of the wizarding world

He's already lost someone he loved during the First Wizarding War, and he doesn't want to lose to another

You might only notice his presence by the fortunate luck you seem to be having

It's like you have a guardian angel protecting you

Well, more like a sallow-skinned, greasy-haired man, but there's no way you could know that

Alternatively, he might feel the urge to meet you, to bask himself in the presence of someone so reminiscent of his first love

He convinces himself that you are a second chance: a reconciliation gift from the world for all the suffering its put him through

There's no way he'll let you go now

You might be confused to wake up in an unfamiliar room with a strange, sour looking man

But when he speaks, although with a rather quiet voice, it is with such authority that it doesn’t even cross your mind to interrupt him

“Listen carefully, as I am not inclined to repeat myself. I have taken you here for your own safety. There are many in my world who wish for the destruction of your kind. Therefore, if you have any sense at all, you will comply with my orders and remain here. I will know if you attempt to escape, and I am a man with little patience for such theatrics.”

Even though he loves you, he still expects cooperation and discipline from you

Snape has little tolerance for your defiance, and should it wear out, he will simply feed you a potion to make you passive and sluggish

Or perhaps he will brew you Amortentia

Picturing you besotted and trailing around him with such adoring eyes is thrilling. The thought alone is enough to accelerate his heart rate

Severus’s primary goal is to keep you safe, but the bonus of seeing you so compliant with his word, whether forcibly or not, is something he will never tire of

Although he might seem cold and standoffish, he truly does care for you beyond measure

Emotional expression has just never been his forte

It is best for your own sake, however, that you do not test the limits of his tolerance

After all, this is a man that would do the unspeakable to maintain the fantasy of mutual love

#reader insert #x reader #yandere #harry potter #severus snape #snape #obsession #obsessive #headcanons #yandere harry potter #yandere snape

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glitteronadumpsterfire · 1 month

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Touch starved/cuddle curse

This with Terror Twins. I would be cool if like Nikki can't be touched for whatever reason (superpowers, curse, non supernatural reasons) and Tommy seems the only one to care or break it

[i feel like this isnt exactly what you asked for but here you go bestie <3]

It all started when Nikki was trying to summon a demon. The reason why he would do that is unknown even to him, probably because he thought it would've been cool or funny, for shits and giggles as one would say.

Nikki didn't manage to bring a beast from the underworld in the kingdom of the living, as in he didn't see the monster in flesh and bone, but it must've disturbed some dark presence or energy, since strange things began happening after he started his demon summoning shenanigans. Forks and knives were raising from the cutlery drawer and flying towards him, to name one; black cats seemed to have taken a liking to him, following him everywhere; but the strangest thing was definitely the fact that whoever Nikki tried to touch, even by mistake, those who had contact with him fell sick.

As soon as Nikki realized what was happening, he started getting very nervous and paranoid about human contact, becoming more and more aggressive towards others in order to keep them a good distance away from him, bringing great tension between him and his band mates and the girls they would take to home sometimes. Little did they know, he was trying to protect them.

But there was one person who was brave and careless enough to go past Nikki's hostility: Tommy. The drummer, very attached to the bassist and always looking for an excuse to snuggle him, knew that something was up: Nikki has never been the cuddly type, but whenever Tommy offered him a hug Nikki wouldn't say no either; lately, though, Nikki seemed to be very unfriendly even to him, which was very suspicious to say the least.

On the latest attempt of Tommy to get a hug from Nikki, to which he responded with a “Don't touch me!”, Tommy had enough of that behavior.

“Can you tell me what the hell is your deal, man? You've been avoiding me for weeks now!” Said Tommy.

Nikki turned his gaze up from the smutty magazine he was reading and raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about, dude?”

Tommy came closer. “Don't play dumb with me, Nik! Did I do something to you?”

Nikki sighed, visibly annoyed, and returned to read.

Tommy teared the magazine out of his hands.

“Hey, give it back – !”

“Not until you tell me what is wrong with you!”

Nikki frowned, throwing his arms in the air. “Do you want a list or what?”

“I didn't mean in general!” Exclaimed Tommy, rolling his eyes. “You've been acting super weird lately, and I know something's up.” He added.

Nikki hesitated. “Fine.” He said in the end, “But don't tell anyone, okay? Especially Mick, he'll be all like I told you so for the rest of my life.”

Tommy nodded.

“Do you remember when we tried to summon Satan?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Well... I think I've been cursed.”

Tommy widened his eyes.

“You gotta believe me, man! Everyone I touch seems to get sick, or become very unlucky all of a sudden. And I don't want this to happen to you...”

“Alright, that makes sense.” Said Tommy pensively, sitting down on the couch next to Nikki. “But I feel like I've touched you many times since then, and I'm fine!”

“You almost burned the house down three times.”

“That's because I can't cook!”

“How do you burn cereal?!”

Tommy inclined his head to the side, as to think about it, then he raised his index finger: “Okay, that one was an outlier, for sure.”

A pause.

“Do you think... Do you think that I am immune because I was with you when you did the summoning?” Asked Tommy after a while, turning towards Nikki.

The bassist shrugged. “Probably. You're still alive, so that has to count for something. Although...” He brought a finger to his chin.

“What?”

“Maybe you've been cursed as well but with the opposite. A cuddle curse, if you will.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don't think I haven't noticed. You crave affection all the time, hugging Vince and Mick whenever you can.”

“Well, uhm...” Tommy hesitated. “Maybe.”

“So I'm not the only one who got cursed, huh!” Nikki sneered. “You lied to me!”

“I didn't lie! I just didn't tell you!”

“That's even worse!”

“Whatever!” Tommy was sick of arguing, and his skin was itching for human contact. “How do we break the curse?”

Nikki shook his head. “I have no idea...”

“Well, I have one, but I don't know if it's gonna work.”

“I'm all ears.”

“What if we kissed?”

Nikki raised an eyebrow. “A kiss...?”

“If you think about it, every fairy tale ends with like, the curse being lifted by a kiss. What if it's the same for us?”

Nikki raised both eyebrows.

“Just hear me out for a second, dude!”

“Alright, alright, I'm willing to try. Hell, I'll try anything at this point.”

Tommy came closer to Nikki and cupped Nikki's face with his trembling hands. Their lips touched, and the world around them seemed to dissipate.

Nikki recalled that they already kissed maybe once, while drunk and emotional, so it wasn't as shocking. Tommy's lips were warm and soft, like a summer breeze. Then, they quickly separated and exchanged gazes.

“Felt anything? Like a curse leaving your body?” Tommy asked in between breaths, as if he ran a marathon.

“Don't think so.” Replied Nikki, his heart racing. “Have you?”

Tommy shook his head. “Well... Apart from the fact that now I feel... Like a weight on my shoulders has been lifted.”

“Yeah, me too... Maybe that was it, but I expected something more striking and obvious, like the heavens would open up above us or something.”

Tommy looked at Nikki and shrugged. “I dunno man, I have never been cursed before. I don't know what's supposed to –”

“We should try again.” Suggested the bassist, all of a sudden.

“Wait are you sure –” Tommy didn't have the time to finish the sentence that Nikki pulled him closer and planted a kiss on him. As soon as their lips came into contact again, a warm rush ran through their bodies, as if they were made of fire, feeling their lips burn to the touch of one another.

They distanced themselves and looked at each other.

“Dude...” Whispered Tommy. “Have you felt it too?”

Nikki nodded. “It was like...”

“Like a fire coming out of our bodies?”

“Exactly!”

Tommy looked at his hands, then back at Nikki. “I don't feel the urge to touch everyone anymore. Y'know, I always felt like an itch going through my body before, but now it's gone.”

“That's a good sign.” Said Nikki, pensively. “I, too, feel like the dark presence that was following has disappeared.” He added, instinctively looking around.

Tommy could finally hug his best friend. “We did it, dude!”

Nikki hugged him back, squeezing tightly, realizing how good it felt being touched again.

Put That Guy in a SituationTM Ask Game/Prompt!

#witchy's ask booth #tommy lee #nikki sixx #terror twins #mötley crüe #witchy writings #still fighting for my life against writers block #i feel like i couldve wrote this a million other ways and i chose the worst one #especially bc i didnt know how to finish it so its kinda. there #i hope things get better ive been losing the will to live recently bc of my job and my creativity is what suffers the most #sigh #anyway #i hope you like it!! the dialogue was fun. reminded me of russ and dyl #which makes sense bc them and the terror twins are the same people but different fonts

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obsidiancreates · 4 months

Text

One Undead To Another (Chapter 14)

(Trigger warning for... I guess mental breakdown? Death, grief, complicated feelings surrounding grief)

“Thanks.” Juliet smiles at the officer, and then turns and walks up to her partner.

“So?”

“Checks out.” Juliet doesn’t even try to hide the relief in her voice. “The mom tried to kidnap her daughter and Shawn caught them, the mom confessed to everything and the little girl is already home safe.”

“And no bite marks on the perp?”

“Not a scratch.” The relief she feels is enough to make her melt. “She described Shawn as quote, ‘rude and offputtingly cavalier with a strangely calm approach to everything’.”

Lassiter scoffs, not without slight fondness, and with much mocking. “Sounds like Spencer.”

“Yeah.” Juliet can hear the dreamy relief in her own voice. “Yeah, it does. Even through all that. … Maybe we’ve been a little too hard on him, Carlton.”

“Too hard on him? O’Hara, he’s a vampire.”

“But he’s still Shawn.”

“The last time we used the ‘It’s still Spencer’ excuse to relax about him, someone ended up dead.”

The tension returns to her in a crashing tidal wave with that sobering reminder. “Right.”

“Right. Yes, it’s Spencer’s personality, his behavior, even his soul. Doesn’t matter. We need to keep an eye on him and keep him in check. Even if that means being a little unfriendly.”

“Easier for you to do than for me.”

“I know. So I’ll be doubly cautious for both of us.”

“Thank you, Carlton. … What now?”

“We’ll have to go back and get Guster, then decide on how we handle the rest of tonight.”

“... Or… call Gus to check in, then go get coffee and late-night pancakes before switching off?”

“... I would kill for a good cup of joe right about now.”

Juliet smiles and pulls out her phone, finding the contact. “Gus?”

“Juliet?”

“Just checking in. How is everything so far?”

“Good, actually. We’re making a list of uh… changes to Shawn’s psychic abilities. Like Mary said, they’re all out of whack now.”

“And he hasn’t…”

“I’m fine. I put the cross on a paperclip necklace, he can’t get near my arteries.”

“Smart. Okay, well, Lassiter and I are going to take care of a few things and we’ll be back to relieve you soon.”

“Cool.”

She hangs up. “Are we splitting the bill tonight?”

“I was thinking I’ll watch Spencer tonight.”

“... So?”

“So, you should pay.”

“Oh, my god.”

“What?! It’s fair, O’Hara.”

“You’re seriously trying to use this to get me to pay for pancakes.”

“It’s a perfectly valid reasoning.”

“You just want to annoy me into not fighting you on watching Shawn.”

“Right. I want to make absolutely sure I’m the one stuck with him for hours.”

“You don’t want me in danger.”

“You owe me.”

“I do. Alright, I’ll buy. But that means we’re both getting the kind with the strawberries and bananas.”

“Fine. Doctor says I need to eat more fruit anyway.”

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

“Alright.” Gus has the list of psychic attributes laid out in front of him, and beside it a new list of vampire attributes. The psychic list is much longer, including lots of little moments they now both realize were actual psychic instances in past cases. “So we both agree that the Nigel St Nigel cigarette case thing was psychic.”

“The first stop was. After that I just actually noticed the danger.”

“Still counts.” Gus writes it down. “Okay, vampire thing next. Can you fly?”

“Pretty sure that’s a no.” Shawn isn’t even sure how he’d go about trying that except for jumping off a cliff– which he considered, before getting a vision of his body floating in the water and Lassie and Jules watching it be hauled up. He’s not sure if he was dead-dead in the vision, or just unconscious, but it doesn’t matter because Lassie and Jules looked pale and stricken and they’ve already had to see his corpse once.

“Psychic sure or regular sure?”

Shawn considers it for a moment, taking the time to eat a cheese puff. “Regular sure,” he decides.

“Fine. Then… how do those cheese puffs taste? Like ash?”

“Like artificial cheese.” Shawn eats another. “I think food tastes the same.”

“Does it feel the same?”

Shawn shakes his head and has another puff. “I had a smoothie earlier and it didn’t quench anything. That might be the biggest loss in all this.”

“You mean besides your eternal soul?”

“Pretty sure I still have my soul. … That one was definitely psychic.”

Gus notes that and the food thing down on their respective pages. “I think we’re making good progress here.”

“Me too, man. I knew we’d be able to figure this all out together.” He hadn’t intended on that at all. He still catches himself looking at Gus’s neck, as does Gus. It’s why Gus made the makeshift rosary in the first place. It’s risky, and difficult, and it makes him hungry.

Hence the cheese puffs. Which aren’t taking the edge off at all, but maybe if he pretends they do he can trick himself into it actually working.

“How about shapeshifting?”

“Gus, I’ve been a vampire for like, a day. Even if I could do that, it probably won’t happen before speed.”

“You said you super-sped at that lady’s car.”

“Yeah, on accident.”

“Fine. What about hypnosis?”

Shawn crunches a puff.

Yes. Yes, he has hypnosis. Strong, potent hypnosis. Some kind of power over someone’s very soul, compelling them to do what he says without even knowing he’s done anything. He can feel the phantom sensation of doing it to Gus, twice now, the way it tied them together for a moment in an otherworldly snare where Shawn was the trap and Gus the prey. And he hadn’t even meant to do it at all.

“I haven’t tried yet.” Not a lie. He hasn’t. But it’s not an answer. But how can he answer? ‘Sorry buddy, I’ve already hypnotized you, Lassie, Jules, and some random other person. You, Lassie, and Jules more than once, by the way.’ He’s still on thin ice, and he’s still figuring this out, and he’s sca–

“You haven’t tried?” “To be honest, man, I’m not super hyped about the powers stuff. They kind of suck so far.” He motions to Gus’s chest.

Gus rubs the bruise. Shawn tilts his head and tries to parse if there’s any tip-offs for ‘bruise’. He’s pretty sure there isn’t– but it’s also just a normal, logical conclusion. He files that away as a ‘Maybe Psychic’ moment and crunches another puff. “So uh… how’re you planning on tricking out the office?”

“Hmm? Oh, that. Well, I talked with Father Wesley earlier–”

Shawn grits his teeth. A resentment he knows isn’t his bubbles up inside of him. He bites the next puff harder than he has to. Gus doesn’t seem to notice, now opening his laptop and looking something up.

“– and got some advice. I found Bible passage wallpaper in an online specialty shop, I’ll put whatever I have leftover from my apartment in here.”

Crunch. Is he scowling?

“I also ordered some actual crosses to hang around my desk. Just, you know, in case.”

Crunch. Shawn hopes his nod doesn’t look too stiff.

“I’m probably going to keep a spray bottle of holy water around too.”

Crunch.

Gus jumps in chair. Shawn looks down at his hand. He’s crushed the entire bag of puffs.

“Whoops.” It’s all he can muster up. It’s nothing. It’s chips. It’s so much more.

“... Maybe I shouldn’t tell you all the stuff I have planned.”

“Yeah. … I’ll probably figure it out anyway.”

“Probably.”

“It was kind of impossible to hide anything from me even before all this.”

“Not that impossible. You didn’t know about Ruby.”

“Oh yeah.” He probably would now. It feels a little like his brain is a poster, folded up so that whatever the focal point of the design is was on full display. He could pick apart the details, admire the intricacies, hang it up and be satisfied with just that. But now he’s unfolded it for the first time, and it’s so much bigger than he ever imagined it’d be, and it’s almost difficult to take in the whole complicated piece. He can hone in on little aspects, specific sections, he can separate it by the leftover impressions of the folding, but trying to see it all as one leaves him unable to see any of it. He could probably know everything, if he could just back up far enough to take it all in…

‘Don’t.’ His grandma’s voice drifts through his head softly. ‘You won’t be able to get back.’

“Shawn? Shawn!” He blinks and Gus is standing in front of him, pencil-cross tucked into his shirt so it’s not waving in Shawn’s face as Gus leans over and lightly slaps his cheek. The warmth of Gus’s hand enriches the smell-taste hovering around him. Shawn jerks away and tries to cover the seize of panic with an exaggerated flop and shout of surprise. He falls off the chair in his fervor.

Gus just tsks and watches Shawn flop around for a second through half-lidded, done-with-you eyes. Shawn sits up, now covered in the dusty remains of the puff bag.

“What was that?” Gus puts his hands on his hips. “You completely blanked out.”

“Gus, please. I don’t blank out.”

“Your eyes glazed over, Shawn.”

“Now I want doughnuts.” He doesn’t. He wishes he does. He should.

“I’m serious, Shawn! That was–” Shawn zeros in on Gus’s hands, highlighted as they tremble slightly. His eyes go up to Gus’s lip, also trembling, and the way Gus keeps looking at his neck before quickly looking away.

“Oh, buddy.” Shawn stands, putting a hand on Gus’s shoulder. Warm, pulsing with Life, easy to take. He crumbles up the chip bag in his other hand, keeping the one on Gus’s shoulder loose and casual. “Look, man, if you need to…”

“No, it’s– I’m fine.”

“You were having flashbacks, weren’t you?”

“... Maybe.”

“I’m sorry, man. I-I can’t imagine… I mean if I found you like…”

“Shawn, seriously. I’m fine.”

The turmoil in Shawn’s guts is different right now. It’s not hunger, not searing pain, not uncertainty and confusion twisting his stomach into knots. It’s a deep pit of dread, a rolling cycle of regret and grief, a tight line of If Only that…

… Isn’t… his.

…

“Gus?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you need to go back home.”

“I’m supposed to keep an eye on you until Lassie gets back, remember?”

“Dude, looking at me is just hurting you right now.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. No wonder you keep throwing up, man. This feels awful.”

“Feels aw- you can feel my feelings right now?”

“Kind of, I– it’s complicated.”

“... I don’t want to leave right now, Shawn.”

The grief sharpens. The almost gentle roll of the grief cycle becomes a tear. Shawn sucks in a breath at the same time Gus pulls in a shaky sob.

“Gus, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You already did.”

“But I’m back! I’m right here, man!”

“You know it’s not the same, Shawn.”

“But it can be! After we figure all this weird new stuff out! Nothing has to change, man. I won’t let it, we’ve got a good thing going and nothing is taking that away from us.”

“You died.”

“Only for a little while.”

“No, Shawn.” Gus brushes the hand off his shoulder, putting both of his hands on Shawn. “You died. You– we saw–”

“But it’s okay now! We can move on from it, buddy, just like we always do.”

“Not just like we always do! Don’t you–”

“... Don’t I what?”

“... Don’t you feel off?”

“Don’t I feel off?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because you died!” Gus shakes him. “Because we didn’t believe you! You died surrounded by freaky monsters, alone, in a basement! It’s not normal to just move on from that, Shawn!”

“What are you– are you mad that I’m not upset enough or something?!”

“YES!” Gus pushes Shawn away– or tries to. Shawn isn’t even wobbled by all the force Gus puts into it, and instead Gus is the one who ends up pushed back and stumbling away. “YOU’RE DEAD, SHAWN! YOU’RE DEAD AND YOU’RE STILL WALKING AROUND MAKING JOKES AND ACTING LIKE IT’S JUST SOME EVERY DAY THING!”

“What do you want me to do, Gus?! Sit on my bathroom floor and mope?! Hang around my apartment thinking about what it felt like to die?! I don’t work like that!”

“No, you just run away when it’s something you can’t brush off!”

“Run– that was years ago! I haven’t run away from something huge since I was eighteen, Gus! I’m here, I’m here to stay, I’m not going anywhere!”

“YOU DID!”

“And I’m back!”

“You’re NOT! Not the same Shawn who left, and we both know it, so stop trying to pretend otherwise!” Tears are streaming down Gus’s face. There’s a frantic look in his eye and Shawn can feel the confusing tangle of emotions taking up his best friend’s chest, the grief and the anger and the disbelief and the fear all twisting into each other to make something just ugly and painful.

“What do you want from me, Gus?!”

“I DON’T KNOW! JUST– JUST STOP PRETENDING IT’S NOT DIFFERENT!”

“I CAN’T!”

“WHY NOT?!”

“I JUST CAN’T!”

“YOU HAVE TO!”

“I WON’T!”

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE I’M SCARED!”

Silence.

Gus stands, crying and huffing and panting. Shawn is frozen, not daring to breath, blink, even move to run. He misses his heart hammering in his chest in moments like these. He misses feeling it jump into his throat, hearing blood roaring in his ears, feeling his pulse speed up and not Gus’s, he misses–

Oh.

He’s crying.

He’s crying, and Gus is moving towards him with a tissue. He offers it to Shawn. Shawn still can’t move. This doesn’t feel real. None of it has felt real, except for when it has, and then it felt too real to be real. He feels like the admission popped his Shamu pool floatie and now he’s sinking, sinking into shark-infested waters with weights strapped around his ankles and no don’t think about Mary choking on blood in his arms right now on top of all of it–

Gus wipes Shawn’s cheek for him. He’s still crying too. “I’m scared,” Gus says, voice wobbling.

“Yeah.” Shawn’s voice comes out a watery croak. He motions weakly at Gus’s fake rosary.

“Not like that.” Gus swallows. “I’m not scared of you, Shawn.”

“Yeah you are.”

“A little bit. But I’m scared for you.”

“... Why?”

“I didn’t just see my best friend die. My best friend died, and now he’s trying to ignore that.”

“Gus–”

“We need to talk about it, Shawn.”

“... I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

“... It might not even help.”

“We still have to.”

“It’s never helped anything before.”

“Have we ever tried?”

“... I don’t… want… to have died, Gus.” His voice catches. He’s trembling now. “That can’t have actually happened.”

“It doesn’t seem possible.”

“It doesn’t, right? I don’t– things work out for me.”

“They always have.”

“They always have. They always do. It can’t have just… not, this time.”

“But it did. Not, did not.”

“... What if I did die? … For real? And I’m not…”

“You?”

“... Yeah.” Shawn wipes his own eyes this time. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. He’s never heard it like this. Clogged up, shaky, weak. “Gus, I’m… I’m scared. I’m sc–”

The last word doesn’t make it out. He sobs.

Gus pulls him into a hug, also sobbing. Shawn feels Gus’s heartbeat in his entire body, in his bones and deeper, but for the moment the hunger and temptation don’t come with it. As Shawn hugs back, taking in the warmth and feelings and Life, he doesn’t feel any of the painful tension of before. He feels Gus’s whole self, body and soul and all, and feels comfort.

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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dnangelic · 7 months

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She saw it; the tag sticking out of his pocket with the words ‘Happy Birthday Daisuke’ written on it. And from that, she can only make one assumption. “Niwa Daisuke.” Ah, that sounds too unfriendly. “…Niwa-san. Is it your birthday?”

She does not wait for an answer she's already sure of. She pats at her pockets. Once…twice before deciding there’s nothing in there that would make a proper ‘birthday gift’. Thinking. Thinking. Eyes look around ‘til they settle on a flier behind her and the idea for a surely acceptable, impromptu gift crosses her mind. She pulls the flier free of its pins, inspecting it a moment before folding it over and over until it becomes something of an envelope in her hands. Then, with her back turned to Daisuke, she squats to dig in her purse and pulls out several items. Among these, her wallet, from which she pulls out several bills. She looks over her shoulder, as if to make sure Daisuke wasn’t peeking, then turns back to her hands, straightening the bills and slipping them into her improvised envelope. A couple of seconds–minutes pass before she’s standing and facing him again. She holds out to him his gift: a money envelope decorated with stickers, his name written as neatly as she could manage (which was not very neat by standards), and her name stamped onto the bottom corner, all accompanied with a chocolate bar. “Congratulations on your birthday.” And of course, a blessing as is etiquette. “To your health, happiness, and prosperity. May this be a wonderful year.” //types this real quick b4 the clock strikes midnite (sor ily i hope theres no typos )

' wha --- ?! ' he stiffens in the street the instant he hears the sound of his full name . even for a boy like himself , to hear its entirety was a rarity --- was he in trouble ? no , wait . that was just ...

' o-oh , eto-san ... ! my birthday ? yeah , but how did you ... ' hand brushes against the tag practically falling out from his pocket , and the perpetual red of his cheeks deepens a little as he flails and flounders in a graceless , hurried attempt to remove-then-stuff-it back in . the clumsy act of his goes on for about as long as the other spends patting herself down , creating what must have seemed like a strange miming session between the two of them to any passerby . ' --- ah , s-sorry ! i should've been more careful ... '

not that the exact date of birthday was any sort of secret compared to what exactly had happened on his fourteenth , but wasn't it a little careless to be running around with a tag like this sticking out ? it could have seemed arrogant and demanding , but his company has already started seemingly scavenging around for ... who knew what , really --- and without any sort of goading . daisuke thinks to say something at first , but it might have been rude to interrupt and ask potentially stupid questions , right ? an idea that morphs from a possibility to a certainty in nothing more than the brief span of her glance back at him --- shoulders high , back straightened , body stiff as a plank once more , until finally ...

don't tell me she just did all of this for me ?! ' uh , i ... ' a few seconds pass until daisuke snaps out of it . everything ... the stickers and the envelope were so cute ! how had she folded it ?! if he asked her , would she tell him as an extra gift of sorts , too ? or maybe that was too much to ask of her after he had watched ( tried not to watch ) her slip a few bills into the envelope . he's still never met anyone who would go as far as to practically handcraft a birthday gift like this for him , and so quickly , at that ! both of his hands can't help but tremble a little as they lift . wow ... ! ' u-um , i mean --- is it really okay for me to accept something like this ? '

anyone might have said of course , it's your birthday , after all --- but he had never been entirely certain whether or not the other and himself had been exceptionally close . the sort of person he had seen on occasion through dark's eyes had been puzzling ; distant and whimsical , but not quite cold . there had always been this sort of thoughtfulness and generous sentiment that reassured him . when the envelope is finally accepted into his hands , the boy's lips have already lifted into a bright , flattered smile . simple as the gift was , it felt so gracious . some part of him felt inspired .

' eto-san , um ... thank you ! ' was there anything more that he could say ? a bow demonstrates itself to her , completing every formality . ' i'll enjoy the chocolate ... and --- ' maybe he could buy some new paints , or a new canvas , and show her something of his own creation ... ! ' if it's okay ... in a few days , i'd like if you could show me how to make this envelope , too ! '

#kirakiras #*･ﾟ⊰ ANSWERED. ⊱#CANON.#KIMI THIS IS SO COOL #odhakdjkdjgkj i love her sm... that glance behind electrocuting dai for all of .5 seconds #he wouldve said its ok but nobody dissuades anybody when they fire u the 'im stuffing the envelope. dont look' look backwards #shes so nice giving him actual cash ?!?!?#the way he is she couldve given him just the empty envelope #and he'd've been like ✨✨✨✨#nyway. TYSM LITA #U R SO KIND TO MY BOY.... DESPITE THE BIG PERSISTENT PURPLE FLEA ATTACHED 2 HIM.....

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pkg4mumtown · 2 years

Text

Through Glass (Ch. 1)

Chapter 1: Sitting All Alone Inside Your Head

Rating: M

Summary: When Stephen lost you, he never thought he’d get another chance to have you. Until now, that is.

Alternatively: You’re convinced that your house is haunted in some way and recruit some help from your local wizard.

A/N: Hi all! This is a weird one. I kind of had a weird fever dream about it and started writing it out. It’s also loosely based off of Through Glass by Stone Sour. It’s going to be a few chapters long and I might do art for each chapter. We’ll see. Enjoy!

Warnings: Feelings of being watched, Multiversal Stalking, Possessive!Stephen, Eventual body horror, Gender Neutral Pronouns for Reader, No Y/N, First Person POV, What If AU where Reader dies instead of Christine, Strange-Supreme just needs a hug honestly, Stephen in Reader’s universe is a big dummy

Cause I'm looking at you through the glass

Don't know how much time has passed

All I know is that it feels like forever

When no one ever tells you that forever feels like home

Sitting all alone inside your head

-Through Glass by Stone Sour

The hustle and bustle of New York was almost immediately muffled as my attention was pulled to my phone. Nearly stumbling over the uneven cement, I dodged people as best as I could out of my peripheral vision while pulling my phone out and reading a short text.

“Can we hang out soon?? I miss you ☹️,” the text read from a good friend of mine, Oscar.

I smiled softly and nodded to myself, thinking quickly about when I’d be free this coming weekend, “Sure! Miss you, too! How about—"

The text remained unfinished and unsent as my phone tumbled from my fingers as I collided with a solid figure. Scalding liquid sloshed onto my hands, making me hiss quietly. I managed to catch my phone in wet hands before it could have an untimely meeting with the cement, wiping it and my hands onto dark parts of my clothing to avoid stains.

“Shit! I’m so sorry I—,” I paused, not really expecting to see a man in a…cape?

I also expected him to be more irritated—given our current location in New York—but he simply smiled tightly and righted the cups, “It’s okay, it’s mostly all here,” he gestured to his two to-go cups of, presumably, tea since my hands didn’t reek of coffee. “Are your hands okay?”

“I’m fine, really. Um, I can go grab you another?”

“I promise, it’s fine,” his warm, soothing chuckle drifted through the noisy crowd around us.

I inspected him closer, from his graying temples to his neatly trimmed goatee, to the cape around his shoulders, and the robes—did the cape just wave to me?

Then, it dawned on me.

The Wizard of Greenwich Village I’d heard about on social media and the news, with his orange sparkles, his part in the Blip, and constant battles with creatures in the streets of New York. Yes, the get-up finally made sense.

“Is there a—uh—cult meeting in town or something?” I asked, with a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips.

"Oh, yeah,” he droned sarcastically, “Specially laced tea and all,” he laughed again. “Doctor Stephen Strange,” he offered.

“The wizard guy, right?” The words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them. Of course, he’s not called a “wizard”, that’s probably extremely offensive. He probably thought I was a complete dumbass by now.

“Or, the Wizard guy,” he pursed his lips awkwardly.

An unfriendly shoulder slammed into me, reminding both of us that we were hogging a decent portion of the sidewalk.

“I’m gonna…” I pointed the direction I’d been walking, wanting desperately to leave before I could say anything else that could make me look like an idiot.

“Right,” he nodded and stepped forward with the crowd, both of us walking in different directions. “Nice to meet you…” I heard my name fall from his lips as his voice drifted away.

I shook my head, my brows knitting together as I stopped again, Funny, I didn’t tell him my name. By the time I turned to look at his retreating form, all trace of him was gone.

Returning home that evening, I set about making dinner and ignoring the hairs standing up on the back of my neck. The feeling of being watched was stronger today, but considering I lived alone, that feeling came and went often as I let my imagination take control. Shaking off the feeling as best as I could, I turned on some music so I wouldn’t feel so alone.

With a final stir in my pan and a flick of the knob for the burner, I reached up to my cabinets for a plate only to stop mid-air as I swore I saw something slither across my floor in the reflection of my microwave. For a second—I paused—blinking and trying to rationalize with myself that it was caused by something outside or that my hand blocked light—casting shadow over the surface. When that didn’t work, I turned around sharply, feeling around behind me for a knife. I held it down to my side as I crept around the corner, gulping as I mustered up the courage to turn the corner aggressively. However, when I did, the living room was empty. My eyes passed to the adjacent hallway, also empty. My rapidly beating heart pulled me out of my search, the thumping having grown so loud in my ears that I started to panic.

There’s nothing here, you’re just being paranoid.

But resigning the shadow as my imagination the first time, only made me expect to see something the rest of the night. Like turning and expecting to see another shadow disappear out of the corner of my eye, scaring myself more and probably making myself see things as a result.

I figured a cold shower was in order, as if it could reset my brain for fifteen minutes and shake these feelings away. I dressed for bed and tried to keep the lights on for as long as I could before shutting them off and passing out for the night.

The same feeling continued growing stronger every day after that, but only within the confines of my own house did I feel the true weight of the uncomfortable, piercing gaze. It got to the point that I spoke to the gaze like its own entity in my house, obviously not expecting or even wanting an answer, but acknowledging nonchalantly that something was there made it somehow less scary.

Reaching for my microwave to take out the warmed-up leftovers from a couple days ago, I once again saw the darkness slithering away, my brain trying so hard to rationalize it as a trick of the light on the reflective surface.

“What? Not in the mood for leftovers?” I murmured while slamming the microwave shut.

I hesitated as I saw the darkness peek back from the edge of the reflection as if it acknowledged me talking to it. I’m not fucking crazy. I looked closer as it paused and retreated quickly as if something pulled it away, focusing in on one crucial aspect: This tentacle-like shape didn’t go behind my wall at all. It rested on top of the reflection of my living room and kitchen, even my own face. If this was really in my house, I should be able to see it floating in the space in front of me. Therefore, it couldn’t be real, right?

Right?

I stared at my reflection, the burning plate in my hands long forgotten as I hoped to catch another glimpse of the shadowy appendage, but nothing came back. Maybe I needed to move up that eye doctor appointment.

So, like every other night, I stayed up with the lights on as long as I could—hoping my electricity bill and sleep wouldn’t suffer for it—before eventually passing out. Unlike every other night, though, I woke with a start and discovered it to only be three in the morning. I gulped, listening for what could have woken me up.

Neighbors?

Sirens?

Nothing.

The heavy gaze was back in full force, but as I squinted around my room, all the blinds were closed. It should have put me at ease, but not when I knew the issue was coming from inside and not outside. I glared harder into the shadows, hoping to finally see something but dreading to see a figure there all the same.

It wasn’t until I fixed my eyes on three glowing yellow orbs in my mirror, that I felt chills run along my skin in fear. I couldn’t place what they were at first, but my question was soon answered as they seemed to blink and focus in on me. I wished my blankets and mattress would smother and swallow me whole as the eyes just stared. I was awarded no such thing. All the bravery I mustered earlier to sass the shadow had left my quaking body in an instant and I had no smart-ass quips to hurl.

After a few tense minutes, the eyes blinked once more and seemed to follow the figure they belonged to as it turned around in the mirror until the eyes were no longer visible.

Strange-Supreme POV

Stephen. Couldn’t. Believe it.

He’d finally found you in a universe where you had no one else. Or, at least, it seemed that way. He watched you for a few days to make sure you really lived alone, his excitement bubbling to the point where he got sloppy and let you see parts of him. Once he saw that you warily began to welcome and acknowledge his timid presence, he showed you a little more but never all of him. He didn’t want to scare you, after all, considering his version of you hadn’t reacted so well to this monstrous form and he didn’t blame you. He was nervous, though, because sometimes this horrifying form was just easier to let out instead of keeping the monsters in him at bay. But, just like his version of you, he was reminded of just how brilliant you were as he watched you piece together the mystery he was laying out for you day by day, and it only made him fall harder for you.

As he watched you nervously shift in your bed under his watchful eye, he hoped you would come to accept him, love him even. So many times he’d looked across the multiverse only to find universes where you were already happy with him, happy with someone else, or dead because of him—just as he suffered now. And while he might look like a monster, he wouldn’t hurt you or destroy your happiness like that. No, he'd want you to come to him of your own will.

But if he had to suffer without his version of you and your version of him was too stupid to claim you…then this you—this you—was just for him.

Chapter 2

Bonus: A little close up of Strange-Supreme without all the overlays to simulate night:

#stephen strange x reader #gender neutral reader #doctor strange x reader #marvel fanfiction #my art #strange supreme x reader #ThroughGlassFic #series: through glass

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glacierbash · 8 months

Note

10 14 16 for kharae!!

waow... hi b'rshtie... so many fun little things for kharae today...

-10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments? -A: Nope! Kharae would probably set a lute on fire if she played it. Not to say she hasn't tried, she's definitely attempted a couple times, but she's much more proficient in singing than she is playing any instrument. She tries. She fails.

-14: What hobbies does your Tav have? -A: Ohh... Fantastic question... Honestly, I don't think she has many, as when with Sornolu she didn't get many opportunities, and after escaping, she was almost immediately tadpoled. However, I think during downtime, she'd pick up scrimshaw! There's no shortage of bones, and she has nothing but spare time during camp, so she'd just start teaching herself! Does it look good? No! But she enjoys it! It helps soothe her, and I think that helps in turn with calming down any magic that's going strange :]

-16: Do they have a favorite creature in the Faerûn? -A: Flumphs. Seeing as she spent, uh, many-a-years in the underdark, Kharae never really got to learn much about what creatures are above ground, save for the rare occasion Sornolu had something outright imported and showed to Kharae. As a result, she got real well acquainted with Minotaurs and other, similarly unfriendly wildlife. However? Flumphs were always nice! And they didn't try to kill her!

#i like talking about Kharae's. nicer side.#cause she definitely has her. well. *mean*streak.#sometimes she's a durge. other times she's *true* neutral and willing to do anything anybody asks.#but she's still Just A Guy! She likes her little crafts and her little animals. so very much.#oc: Kharae Mlezzoryn

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thetarttfuldickhead · 6 months

Text

A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.

Masterpost / AO3

15.

Jamie stood outside Keeley’s door and pressed the bell exactly one hour and seven minutes after training ended on Tuesday. He’d have come sooner, but he’d stopped to pick up coffee for them both on the way. Seemed rude to show up empty-handed when Keeley was taking the time to help him with his brand, even if it’d been her idea.

“Hi, Jamie,” she said as she opened the door, and Jamie frowned. Keeley looked as lovely as ever in her pink Versace and with the blonde hair done up, but there was a strange edge to her smile.

“Hi, Keeley. You good, yeah?” he asked, but she just nodded and gestured for him to move into the sitting room.

The sitting room where Roy was standing by the large windows, turning around as Jamie walked in.

Jamie paused on the threshold. He hadn’t expected Roy to be here. Which, perhaps, he should have, considering how things had gone the last time Keeley invited him over to her place.

Seeing him brought a curious flutter to Jamie’s stomach. Following their encounter at the kebab shop, he’d have sworn he’d rather never say another word to Roy Kent, but spending the past week and a half doing his damnedest to secretly cheer the man up had seemingly shifted the resentment into something else and softer. After all that sneaking around and staying hidden while keeping an eye on Roy, being in the same room as him and having Roy see him made Jamie feel weird. Exposed. Charged. Little jittery.

“Hi,” Jamie decided to try, opting for cool but not unfriendly.

Roy didn’t say anything at all. He just stared at Jamie with an intensity that was kind of extreme, even for Roy.

“Okay then,” Jamie muttered, moving to sit down at the table.

He paused again, raising an eyebrow. On the table before him was the jigsaw puzzle, the bottle of whisky, and the gift card envelope. There was quite a bit missing from the bottle, Jamie noticed with a small thrill. Roy had better enjoy it; tracking it down hadn’t been easy, and it had cost more than any liquor rightly should. Jamie could probably have gotten a thousand bottles of vanilla vodka for the same price.

“Nice,” he said, nodding towards the things. So what if he was angling for some small confirmation that the gifts had been appreciated; he fucking deserved it, after all he’d been through for this grumpy twat.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Roy said, his gruff voice disbelieving to the point of near-reverence. “It was you.”

“Eh?” Jamie looked up and found Roy still staring at him, but his expression had morphed into one of incredulity warring with simmering anger.

Oh. Uh. Jamie had a bad feeling about this. He hurriedly turned to Keeley, who’d followed him into the sitting room and was standing behind him, that small frown still on her face. “You wanna get started?” he asked, hoping to shift the situation away from whatever it was that Roy was so ominously on about.

“It was him the whole time.” Roy sounded like he was slowly convincing himself of the fact, and getting increasingly pissed about it. “I can’t fucking believe— “

“Keeley?” Jamie said, a little desperately. “We should get started, yeah? So, about me brand, I was thinking—“

But Keeley was shaking her head slowly, and Jamie fell silent. Fuck. This had never been about his brand, had it?

He bit his lip. He didn’t look at Roy.

Gesturing to the gifts on the table, Keeley asked softly, “Jamie, did you get these for Roy? And had his porch decorated and all the other stuff?”

He scoffed. “What? No.” He made a face, too, for good measure, because that was just a fucking ridiculous idea, wasn’t it?

Even if it was true.

Keeley fixed him with a stare he was only too familiar with. “Jamie,” she said, edging close enough to stern that it took him some effort not to shuffle his feet.

He wasn’t any good at lying to her when she looked at him like that. Besides, he knew that she wouldn’t believe him even if he tried. Neither of them would. Storming off in a huff wouldn’t help either, because they’d still know.

Nothing for it but to do what could be done to save whatever his dignity he had left.

“Fine,” he snapped. “It was me. I got Roy for Secret Santa, all right? Gone and ruined the surprise now, didn’t you.” Quick thinking, that. Jamie still felt right proud of himself. He’d always been great at coping under pressure. One of the things which made him such a brilliant penalty taker.

Roy and Keeley exchanged a look. Frustratingly and unreasonably, neither of them looked convinced.

“Jamie,” Keeley said slowly, sounding like she was trying very hard to be patient. “I helped Isaac put together the Secret Santa, yeah? Roy wasn’t even in it, ‘cause he’s not with the club anymore.”

“Yeah, you idiot,” Roy said. “So would you kindly tell me what the fuck is going on?”

He didn’t yell, but sounded like he was about two seconds away from it. Overdramatic wanker. Jamie crossed his arms over his chest, and looked away. “So I got you a gift,” he muttered. “What’s the big deal?”

“Gifts! You got me gifts! And the fucking carollers and my car, and then when Keeley and I went to the restaurant… You’ve been following me around like some kind of psycho stalker, haven’t you, you little prick, but yeah, of course you don’t see what the big deal is, because you’re too— ”

Keeley had walked over to Roy, and now put a hand on his arm, quietly urging him to calm down. He pressed his lips shut, thunderous scowl still in place.

“Yeah, Jamie,” Keeley said. “I get that you probably meant well, but it’s been a bit intense, yeah? And it’s not like you and Roy are friends, you know? So guess we just wondered what… well, what brought this on?”

Unexpectedly, Jamie felt his chest tighten. Something about the two of them, standing together on the other side of the room, and looking at him like that, Keeley with hesitant concern and Roy with derision and barely restrained anger… it hurt.

It was all just fucking shit, wasn’t it, because Jamie had tried, yeah? And sure, it’d been mostly to see his mum again, but he really had made an effort to come up with stuff Roy would actually like, and he’d spent every fucking spare minute and so much money pulling it all off and it’d all been so fucking stressful, but maybe it had been a little bit fun too, like maybe Jamie had started to get excited about doing this stuff for Roy, only now Roy was staring at him like that and Jamie’s stupid eyes were beginning to burn and fuck.

“Cat got your fucking tongue?” Roy demanded. “The hell is going on with you, Tartt? First you fuck over City to be a twat on telly, then you worm your way back into Richmond and suddenly try to make it like you haven’t just proved to the whole fucking world that you’re the prickiest prick who ever lived.”

“Roy,” Keeley said. But she didn’t say anything else.

Jamie swallowed. Looked away, and took a deep breath. Another, and felt his face fall into something familiar and safe.

When he looked back to them, it was with lifted chin and a disdainful sneer firmly in place.

“If we’re not here to talk about me brand, I’m out,” he said coolly. “Need to prepare for the game tomorrow, ‘cause even if I am a prick and even if I did fuck over City to go on a reality show, I’m still fucking playing.” He let his voice curl into cruelty; let his eyes slowly wander over Roy to make his meaning clear. I’m playing. You are not.

Roy got the message, loud and clear, and Jamie didn’t doubt for a second the man would have lunged for him, hadn’t Keeley strategically stepped in to block his path. “Boys—“ she began, but Roy cut her off, his voice an icy snarl as he began call Jamie every vile name under the sun and detail the many, many imaginative ways he’d like to hurt him.

Jamie didn’t stay to listen. The door slamming shut behind him echoed like the sound of a bullet ripping through his chest.

#roy and jamie's stellar communication and conflict resolution skills #but roy doesn't deal well with feeling like he's been made a fool of #and jamie doesn't deal well with perceived rejection #poor keeley is great at sorting other people's problems out #but starts fumbling a bit when she feels like she's directly involved and confused about what's going on #so #here we are #but fairytales neither start nor end in the dark forest #royjamiekeeley #jamie's christmas carol #fic #my stuff

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emily-chant · 6 months

Text

Entry V - Chant

The way I saw it, I had two options in that situation. The first was to turn around and back onto the unfriendly streets of the Major American City on the East Coast. I could wander until I found a police officer, and then reach out to Lieutenant Hill to keep working the mystery of my own existence. Barring that, I could always pursue an exciting career as a homeless person.

The second avenue available to me was to walk into the unfamiliar house of a foul-mouthed beer snob with apparent connections to vanishing attorneys.

Being the sensible amnesiac that i was, this was the option I chose.

I stepped through the threshold and immediately felt a strange pressure settle in around me. Each of my senses felt muffled somehow, like someone had turned the volume of reality down. The air felt heavier, the light shone little dimmer. Even my sense of touch faded slightly, with my bare feet barely registering the texture of the floor beneath me. Nevertheless, I persisted.

The building was old, it wasn’t in the best condition. Hardwood creaked beneath my weight and the white-washed walls screamed for a fresh coat. A set of stairs ascended to an unlit second floor to the left of the main hallway, which my host had already exited from into another room. I followed him, and emerged through an arched entrance to a living room.

It was nice, all things considered. Despite the mild decrepitude of the townhouse, the furniture and appliances were all relatively new. Artwork decorated the walls, and several lamps strained against the strange, persistent dimness. The far wall was dominated by an imperious bookshelf, itself laden with books of varying levels of monstrous size. Flames crackled in a fireplace, their warmth muted slightly.

The man was in the nearby kitchen, which was divided from the living space by a counter-top bar. He took another pull on his beer and tossed it into a recycling bin. Then he opened the fridge - revealing an impressive combination of take-out containers and alcohol - and stooped to retrieve another bottle before turning his attention back to me.

“A fucking Acheran, Chant.” His voice was exasperated as he spoke, clearly making an effort to be heard over the strange, oppressive aura that covered his home. “I had to call in a fucking Acheran to find you. What the shit?”

He looked at me expectantly. I, of course, had no idea what he was talking about and so I said nothing.

“And what’s with the scrubs?” He asked after a few beats of my gormless staring.

I swallowed, trying to get my bearings. I don’t know what I expected when I stepped through that door, but an angry series of questions wasn’t it. I felt myself start to shake. The man only stared at me in a state of irritated incredulity, and then made an impatient gesture with his beer bottle. I started to cry.

I had woken up to trauma, endured hours of police questioning, and sat in the presence of someone that might not even exist. But this is what broke me. Standing there, in a strange house, wearing ill-fitting hospital scrubs, with no memory of who I really was or what I was supposed to do, I cried.

The change that came over the man was instant and drastic. The anger on his face faded to something approaching concern, and then to an expression of immense confusion.

“Oh, uh,” stammered the man, setting his beer down and walking forward cautiously, like he was approaching a startled deer. “Shit. I didn’t want...”

He seemed as shocked by my reaction as I was by my whole situation.

“Shit. Fuck,” he continued unsteadily, reaching out as though to calm me but then drawing his hands back, clearly out of his depth with my outpouring of emotion. “Um. Shit. Uh, sit down.”

He gestured towards an overstuffed leather couch behind me and turned around, stooping down beneath his bar. When he emerged, he was holding a bottle of whiskey, along with two glasses.

Hot tears still trickling down my face and snuffling like a preschooler, I sat. The couch, for its part, was comfortable - the first comfortable thing I experienced since I woke up.

“Sorry,” said the man as he settled on the armchair perpendicular to the couch. He set down the glasses on the shared coffee table and poured each of us a few fingers of amber whiskey.

“Sorry,” he repeated, taking a generous sip from his whiskey before pressing my glass into my hands, “It’s just... I’ve never seen you... like that.” He gestured towards my face with his free hand and took another drink.

I took a cautious sip from my glass. The whiskey burned as it went down, but its warmth allowed me to take the first steady breath I’d taken in hours. After a few moments, I stopped shaking.

“I don’t,” I said, and then coughed, clearing my throat. “I don’t remember anything.”

The man’s eyes were wide with confusion and concern. He took another drink.

“Anything about what?” he asked.

I made a hopeless gesture with my whiskey glass, a jerky motion that threatened to spill the liquor onto the leather of the couch.

“Anything, anything?” he asked, something approaching horror dawning on his face.

“Anything,” I confirmed, and tears still on my face, I felt a mad giggle threaten to overwhelm me. “I mean, I know I’m Emily Chant. I know I’m in [Major American City on the East Coast]. I know Donald Trump is the president.” The man’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer at that last one. “But that’s about it. I don’t know where I live. I don’t know my family. I don’t know who you are.”

I set my glass down on the coffee table with an emphasis afforded only to the desperate. The man stared at me blankly for a few moments. Then he threw back his whiskey, poured himself another dram, and threw that one back as well.

“Well shit,” he replied numbly. “Well, I’m Sebastian Moore...”

I nodded. The name rang exactly zero bells, but he continued.

“...and I’m a sorcerer.”

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jasleh · 9 months

Text

FFxivWrite2023 Prompt 28: Blunt

character: Rrahna (indirectly) time period: post-6.4/Pandaemonium warnings for: being mean to G'raha (Rrahna doesn't like him much, sorry)

...

Openly dating the Warrior of Light, it seemed, came with inevitable interruptions. Claudien had but recently returned from his short trip to La Noscea and was just getting back into the flow of his research when a red-haired miqo'te wandered in, trying a bit too hard to seem casual about it. He put down the instrument he had been working with and sighed, turning to face the unwelcome visitor.

"Can I help you, Archon?" From the corner of his eyes, he saw Ruissenaud and Nemjiji look up in surprise at the unusual iciness of his tone. He could have been more polite, true, but if this was who he thought it was… well. He'd quite recently been subjected to a rather long rant about this man and the effect he had on Rrahna from someone with very strong opinions on the matter.

"G'raha Tia at your service! I hope I'm not interrupting anything…" Well, that removed all doubt.

"You are, actually," Claudien replied bluntly, once more astonishing his research assistants. "I am very busy. Was there something you needed?"

"Well… I.. uh…" G'raha fidgeted under his unfriendly gaze. "I… had heard you… worked with the Warrior of Light on some project! And I was hoping to learn more about it. As she is a good friend of mine, I follow her adventures very closely, you see."

Yes, I'm sure you do, but I happen to know that 'good friend' is a stretch, thought Claudien. But more than that, I expect you are here to see the competition. And another bit of that earlier conversation floated up from his memory. 'As you are not a secret, perhaps you may protect her in ways that I cannot.' It had sounded strange at the time, but far less so now. Rrahna was polyamorous, but G'raha didn't need to know that.

"As I said, I am very busy," Claudien told him. "I suggest you read the reports." Not that Claudien especially wanted him to read the reports, but there was only so much he could do as a Professor when G'raha was an Archon.

"They're restricted to the Forum still," the miqo'te replied glumly. "I'd ask Rrahna, but she's hard to track down, especially when I have too much work with the Students of Baldesion to leave Sharlayan." Claudien only just managed to suppress a smile. Good news on both counts, so far as he was concerned. "And when she is around, there's rarely time to stand around and talk."

In the background, Nemjiji perked up. "I could…" she trailed off as they both looked at her and Claudien gave a sharp shake of the head behind G'raha's back. "… tell you who to ask?" she continued, clearly trying to find an alternate but plausible path for that sentence. It was an unfortunate path, as Fourchenault was unlikely to turn down such a request from a former Scion, but better than Nemjiji regaling G'raha with the whole story, at least.

"Oh, could you?" G'raha took up the offer eagerly, and was at least soon out of Claudien's lab. Once he was safely away, both of his assistants looked to him for an explanation.

"Professor…" Nemjiji started, "were you jealous?"

Claudien actually felt rather insulted at that. "Hardly. But Rrahna suffers enough from his hero worship. We didn't need to feed it."

"I've never seen you like that before, Professor." It was Ruissenaud who spoke up now. "You almost reminded me of Lahabrea."

"What, really?" Claudien was taken aback by the comparison, but not entirely unpleased.

"Well, you don't have the same air of authority," Ruissenaud admitted, "but the judgement was spot on."

"Hmm… In this case, I think I can live with that."

#FFxiv #FFxivWrite2023 #miqo'te #Rrahna #references an earlier write that didn't get cross-posted to tumblr >.>

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ironunderoos · 2 years

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Dare part 6

Prompt: badboy Tony tries to seduce nerd Peter because of a bet and dalls for him.

Find part one... part five

Thursday rolled around and Tony was way too early at school. Jarvis had looked at him as if he was fearing for his sanity when Tony announced to leave at such a time in the morning after getting up without being prompted several times. Now he was leaning on his locker, his excited mood fading. He pouted.

It was still early, Justin and Quentin hadn't arrived yet. And if he was honest with himself, he didn't care to meet them. He longed for someone else entirely and that was a strange and somewhat unsettling feeling.

Tony frowned what made the small middle schoolers on the other side of the hallway almost hide in their lockers.

Only one day left to fulfill his bet. But somehow it didn't feel right anymore. Not because he was struggling with getting closer to Peter, the opposite was true. The boy opened up to him more and more and had even allowed Tony to drive him home yesterday.

But it didn't seem such a fun idea anymore to seduce him just because he could. Maybe he should stop it, tell Justin to fuck himself. Even if that meant that he would be completely alone and without allies. But maybe he should do what's right. And stop spending time with Peter.

Tony frowned. No. That didn't seem a good idea either. Even if he hesitated to admit it, he started to like the boy with the big brown eyes that shone like stars when he was happy or excited. And who could recite the speed of light from memory.

Tony kicked against his locker softly.

Maybe he should talk to him, come clean. But how?

'Hey, I was a total jerk and wanted to seduce you for a bet but then I found out you're kind of nice and funny so no hard feelings, yeah?'

No. Not an option!

As if called by Tony's thoughts, Peter came into sight. But this time he wasn't with his chubby friend, but in the company of another boy his age. Tony recognized him as the guy from decathlon, what's his name again!

Whoever-he-was-called had his arm around Peter's shoulders keeping him close and talking in his ear. Flash, his name was Flash!

Peter however, was obviously miserable. Tony stepped forward but then hesitated. If his friend was consoling Peter he shouldn't intrude, shouldn't he?

Everything went quick from there. The two boys arrived at Peter's locker and he tried to get the other to let go of him. That very second, the friendly behaviour fell from Flash and he pushed Peter against the metal doors with enough force to make them clang loudly.

Peter winced and tried to shield his face with his arm. "Get off me, Flash! I didn't mean to-...!" Peter tried, but the other was in his face immediately.

"But you did, Penis! And you're going to make it right!" He raised his arm as if to slapp Peter's face.

Now Tony knew why Peter so often flinched when someone moved suddenly!

Having found a perfect target for his growing anger Tony pushed himself off his locker and sauntered over. "What's going on here?" he asked in an not unfriendly tone, but the edge was audible.

Both boys jumped and Flash almost fell over himself when he turned to Tony.

"Stark!" He looked back at Peter as if he expected him to do something but nothing came. He turned back to Tony. "Parker and me.. we're … uh…"

Peter's eyes were big and wet and frightened. Tony could not decipher if he was more afraid of Flash, or ashamed to be caught in such a vulnerable position, or if he simply was afraid of Tony jumping in on the fun of slapping Peter around. It made something in Tony's chest sting that he hadn't even known was there.

Tony leaned against Peter's locker, close to him and making him tense even further

But his eyes rested on Flash.

"How about you fuck off, hm?" he asked with a dark smile.

"What do you want? This is none of your business! Like yesterday… do you think you can just butt in and everything goes the way you want?!" Flash glared at him, but Tony just returned his look, cool as ice.

"It usually does."

They stared at each other a couple of moments until Tony straightened himself to his usual height.

Flash looked away, defeated. He didn't dare to say anything else, but gritted his teeth and gave Peter an odd look. Then turned to leave.

"And Fleshlight…" Tony called after him. Flash stopped, his shoulders tense, but he didn't turn.

"This…" he gestured between Flash and Peter, "... doesn't happen again. Got me?"

Flash hesitated, his frame tense and angry. But then he nodded and ran away.

Tony looked down on Peter and pointed at the retreating asshole at the end of the hallway. "That prick bothering you often?"

Peter was in shock. He stared at Tony as if seeing him for the first time at all. Slowly he nodded. He didn't seem to fully grasp what had happened right now. He was tense and shaking and reminded Tony of himself after one of the confrontations with his dad. Somehow Tony wanted to hug him.

He didn't of course.

"Well, not anymore. If he tries something, you'll come to me and I'll talk to him. Okay?"

Peter frowned. "Why are you doing this?"

Tony pulled back a little.

"Hey, I helped you out, didn't I? How about a little gratitude?"

Peter bit his lip but he seemed upset.

"Thank you. But Flash is my problem. And he didn't do anything to cross you."

Tony straightened up and crossed his arms. "Well maybe being an asshole is enough of a reason to be told off."

Peter stull struggled with it so Tony relented. "Next time i'll ask first before i'll help you out okay? Come on, I'll bring you to your class."

Peter stared at him but then he seemed to come to a conclusion. He nodded. "Okay."

Peter ran looking for Tony as soon as lunch break rolled around. Flash had acted angry all morning, shooting glares at Peter and making gestures. This wasn't a good sign.

As soon as the bell rang Peter slipped out of the classroom, leaving a confused Ned behind. Somehow he knew that something bad was about to happen.

He found Tony by his locker in company of his two friends. They were quite intimidating and Peter hesitated a moment to approach him, but he had to! So he soldiered on.

"Hey, uhm… Tony?"

The three boys turned to him. Tony was surprised, his blonde friend raised his eyebrows in confused disdain and the last one… he smiled, but his eyes were weird. Creepy.

"What's up?" Tony asked, frowning. Peter felt his courage dwindle.

"Yeah what's up, kiddo?" the blonde one sneered.

"Leave him alone."

"Dhu, Stark-..."

"Com'on Justin, let's leave the lovebirds alone." The creepy one pulled his friend along, ignoring his muttering about annoying kids.

Peter felt his trademark blush starting to spread at the height of his knees, marching upwards at the mention of 'love'. Tony seemed a little flustered too, but there was no time for that!

"Something's happening!"

"What do you mean-...?"

"Flash's up to something, I know it!"

Tony looked over his shoulder.

"Yeah? Well… what can he do?"

"You're on probation, right? I heard Mr. Coulson talking to you. And I bet Flash knows it too. He'll try to give you trouble, I know it!"

Tony looked down on him and Peter wanted to shake him by the shoulders. Before he could say anything else however, a harsh male voice thundered through the hallway.

"STARK!"

It was Mr. Coulson!

Part 7

#starker #tony stark #peter parker #ironunderooswriting #highschool au

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imagineimpact · 3 years

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hi !! is it ok if i request a one-shot kaeya x reader? i've had this phrase in my mind for a bit and i just dont know what to do with it. "uh.. kaeya? you can stop holding my hand now..."

Yes, of course it is! I may or may not have written this when I saw it and it may or may not have been really early in the morning when I did, but I love getting prompts like this!

Enjoy!

No Hurry To Let You Go

Kaeya x Reader

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Happy Windblume Festival!” You greet another guest to Mondstadt, one who had just asked you for directions and was now on their way up to see the church of Barbatos. Quite the crowd had seemed to amass on this particular day, and it was hard to even see the usual faces around - Marjorie would be making a lot of sales today, as would Flora, but the sheer amount of people stopped you from witnessing the sight.

Yeah, you weren’t too good with crowds. The thought of stepping into this, where you would be pushed around and have to say 'excuse me' a hundred or so times was rather offputting, for many reasons. So, instead, you hovered by the blacksmith’s forgery, waiting for the crowd to disperse ever so slightly into the festivities.

The problem was, though, that you had been waiting for three hours.

Your eyes wander through the crowd to seek out a familiar face - any would do. Why did there have to be just so, so many guests here today?

“Hey, fancy joining me at the tavern for a bit?” A voice beside you - a familiar presence indeed - appears out of nowhere. You startle slightly, much to his amusement.

“Ah, good afternoon Kaeya.” You smile, your eyes meeting his. “Aren’t you busy with, you know, the festivities?”

He scans over you, a light smile on his face as his eyes twinkle with interest. “As a knight, it is my duty to ensure that each individual enjoys their time during the festivities.” He chuckles to himself. “You seem oblivious to the fact that you’ve been standing there for hours now.”

“You noticed, huh?” You're slightly unamused by the teasing. “Well, you know I don’t really, uh...”

“Oh, you’re afraid of getting lost in the crowd?” He asks, reading you with such ease that it’s almost frustrating.

In a way, though, it’s the cause for that smile spreading across your expression. “Well, not exactly. I was just, um, waiting for there to be a bit less people.”

He chuckles. “Right.” You might as well have told him you could fly with how much he had seen through your words.

“I really am.”

“Oh, I believe that you are, but it’s because you lack fondness of such crowds.” He leans closer. “I believe you still haven’t answered my request, by the way.”

“You’re request? Oh! Right.” Your eyes wander away to look at the crowd for a moment. It was about time that you had something to eat anyway, so there was no real fear in going. Plus, it would give you an excuse to get through all these people. “Sure, I’ll join you.”

“Lovely.” He straightens back up, but leans back down for just a moment. You feel his hand take yours, adjusting itself slightly to your palm.

A heat rises to your face. “Kaeya?”

“We don’t want to get separated now, do we?” He chuckles to himself, stealing a quick glance your way before turning and taking the chance to guide you to his side.

No arguing with that logic. You release a deep breath, relieved that your friend had approached you. His presence beside you is a welcome warmth, and due to his status and stature, he has much more ease navigating the crowds than you would have if you were alone.

It takes about twenty minutes of walking before you find fresh air, the crowd not surrounding Angel’s Share. Usually this walk would take half that time, but with your slow pace navigating the crowds, it was far more tedious than expected.

Kaeya still grips your hand when you reach the tavern door. “Uh, Kaeya?” You hold up your clasped hands. “You can stop holding my hand now.”

“Hmm?” His eyes linger over the hands as he opened the door with his other. “Oh, I know.” He looks away as if mindlessly returning back to a task.

Instead, he grips your hand tighter and leads you into the tavern ahead of him.

“Wh- Wait-“ You stutter out, flustered at the notion.

“There’s no hurry.” He spoke simply, very much to avoid you mentioning it again.

“Kaeya-“

“Are you two going to keep blocking the doorway?” A tired voice rings out from behind the counter.

“Oh, Diluc, I didn’t know you would be working today.” You pipe up, trying to avoid the typical tense conversation between the two brothers.

“Festivities are typical cause for me to work. It’s due to be quite busy in here soon.” His eyes rest on Kaeya. “Of course, when people have a proper job to do, they haven’t the opportunity to rest during such occasions.”

“As always, Diluc, taking a chance to slander the Knights of Favonius.” Kaeya’s voice is unusually disinterested in the typical unfriendly banter. “We’re just taking a break before the crowds get any worse. A certain someone was near about to pass out from exhaustion.”

That’s when Diluc’s eyes flicker to your clasped hands. His expression shifts slightly as if he is rather amused by such a development. Still being polite, however, he doesn’t mention it. “If you’re that exhausted, then take a seat. I assume you won’t enjoy drowning in wine like your present company.” He says to you, turning his head to look into the interior of the tavern. “Find a seat somewhere. Away from me.”

Your hand is being squeezed - near suffocation - by Kaeya, who scoffs at his brother, “As always, you-“

“Thanks, Diluc.” You interrupt Kaeya and quickly pull him away from a potentially endless argument.

He’s indignant for a moment, then takes stride in front of you and leads you up the stairs for the utmost privacy.

Kaeya is unusually quiet as he leads you to a table in the corner, away from the few other people who are in the bar. Diluc is right; In a few hours, this entire tavern would be overfilling with guests.

Still, Kaeya leads you to a table and you both sit down, his hand still grasping yours. Was it overkill at this point? Most certainly.

“Hey, Kaeya?” You call again to grab his attention. He meets your gaze with a slight reluctance, as if pulled from a strange thought. It's unusual for him to be so reserved. You squeeze his hand. “Everything alright?”

“Why, of course it is.” He leans forward slightly, pulling your hand as if to have you do the same. “I’m right in front of my favourite person.”

Your cheeks tinge a light pink and he chuckles at the change. Your eyes narrow slightly - He’s doing this on purpose. “Is that why you’re insisting on holding my hand so tightly?”

“Hmm.” He hums quietly. “Well, perhaps I just want your attention.” He stares across at you. “Perhaps I wouldn’t want you to be thinking about anyone else right now, or want you to get lost in either your thoughts or the crowds.” His eyes scan yours, a delay for testing your acceptance of his words. “And perhaps, of course, I don’t want any other man to take your hand away from me.”

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise at his words. Though not unusually bold, they are certainly more, well, direct than usual.

He held your hand under the table, the two of your quiet as footsteps came approached from the stairwell. “Some wine and food for the table.” Diluc announces haphazardly, though delicately he does place the items onto the table. You look up toward him, and feel your hand being squeezed again.

The unusual action comes across more possessive than you had seen Kaeya before. It’s incredibly flustering for your thoughts.

Diluc notices how quickly you look away from him, and his eyes flicker to Kaeya. He notices something, but wanders away from the table regardless at the sound of your quiet 'thanks'. Perhaps he believed himself to be interrupting a moment - which, perhaps he was.

Finally, he lets your hand go, leaning back in his chair. “Now, my dear, let’s enjoy our time together while it’s still quiet enough for you.” He smiles delicately, as if moments ago he hadn’t spoken strangely.

You decide to play along with it, not certain how to deal with the stirring in your heart as you both lift your glasses and let the clink resound in the air when they meet, pushing away any other emotions you might be feeling.

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keity-devil · 3 years

Text

Another one, I know. (Destinyshipping fic, spoil 'my not my never' child/teen @breathlessmorro.). But is more a fluff one. I think. Enjoy.

Powers, my love? - Part 1.

Morro and Kai have been in a relationship for a year and a few months already. They were happy with each other. The days together were amazing for them. Kai had met Morro for the first time because of Lloyd's help. They told everyone one day that his cousin was moving to town and he was excited about it. (Especially since they hadn't seen each other in years, Morro not knowing about the Garmadon family's problems until a few days after he came to town.) When he first saw him, he saw an emo and slightly shy boy, but with a tough personality, dreaded if you touched a blond hair of Lloyd's. Kai couldn't believe Morro was really Lloyd's cousin. They were so different from each other. Hair color skin, language, that's what he think until he find out it's actually adopted. They began to meet more often (because Lloyd wanted his best friend and cousin to get along), and the flame ignited. When Lloyd found out about Kai's relationship with Morro, he didn't expect his plan to have such a great result. He had agreed to their relationship, even pleased with it. Kai didn't expect that either, not to mention Morro who was confused at the beginning of their relationship, he thought it was all just a dream, a fiction, he didn't think anyone would love him and yet.. he found someone. They had kept this relationship a secret until they were quite comfortable with the idea of the rest knowing about it.

But they both kept a secret from each other. Elemental Powers. Kai kept his firepower hidden from Morro, and Morro kept his windpower from Kai. They both kept it a secret, and to this day, everything has gone well with this secret concealment of power.

Kai opened his eyes slowly. The light coming from the sun came straight into his eyes. He turned his heavy head to the seat next to it. Morro slept soundly, a few strands of hair hanging down his slightly pale face. Kai turned completely to his lover, staring at him. He could feel the fire in him wanting to come out. It was hard to control himself not to create a heart of fire for his love every time he did something adorable or felt that he did not know how to show/express his love for him. But he couldn't do it. He risked his identity as a Fire Ninja, Red, Flame, he risked endangering both of them.. and he didn't want that.

Morro felt his dream slowly crumble, his eyes hard to open. When he opened them a little, he could already see a smile on someone face.

"Morning..." He said softly, feeling his throat dry.

"Morning mi corazón." Kai approached Morro's face, kissing his forehead softly.

Morro in response, approached him to warm up a little, maybe he will fell asleep. It seemed strange to him how Kai was much warmer at times, but when he asked him about it, he had received the answer that it was only because he is cold.

"Don't fall asleep again. You just woke up." He said with a smile.

Morro couldn't stop an innocent grin. "And what if I fall asleep again?~"

"I'll be forced to throw cold water at you to really wake up."

"Oh no, not at all. I'm sick of it. Do you want me to be sick?"

"N-no..?"

"Exactly. Just another five minutes..."

"Okay. Just five minutes." He had begun to stroke his thick, black hair.

------

Ninjas had to patrol the city every night. Just two. And tonight, Wu put Wind and Flame.

"Your serious now?" Wind said, rolling his eyes.

"This is the truth." Flame said, looking at the starry sky outside before he left.

"Why did Wu put me with you?" He said unfriendly.

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"Maybe it is."

Flame said nothing more, wishing this patrol would end quickly so he could go home. He missed someone and thought of a good excuse for being late. The patrol went fast. Nothing new for the two of them. Wind and Flame were good at fighting, but in conversation and socializing, they needed work.

"Well, end of patrolling for tonight. It's late, I should run home quickly."

Wind looked at him. "Why? Parents, brother, sister?"

"Beloved boyfriend." He said calmly.

"Oh." He lowered his head. He didn't know why, but hearing him say that word, he had done it... "Mhm. Go then. Don't let him wait for you." He said in a tone with a little venom in it, disappearing from Kai's vision like the wind.

"What's with him? No, you know something Kai? It doesn't matter what's with him. I still wonder who's under the mask. Who could Wu trust to have these powers...?"

------

Morro arrived home first. The last conversation with Flame had left him in a bad mood. He wanted to make coffee, but that wouldn't calm him down, so he resorted to his father's method of tea. He went into the bedroom first, no sign of Kai. He could feel the bizarre state in him growing. He left a cold wind behind him, filling the room with a restless cold air.

Kai reached the front door of the apartment. He repeated his apology in his mind.

"Okay Kai. You can do it. Calm down, you know the words." He pressed the doorknob. When he entered, a strong mint smell struck him, with a cold wind as well. "Uh... tea?" He closed the door, rushed inside. At the kitchen table was the brunette, with a cup in his hand, frequently hitting it with his nails painted light blue and black. "Morro? Uh... are you okay?"

"Mhm.. Yes. Why? Problems? " Morro didn't want it to sound so harsh, but he was still on needles.

"Nope. None." He approached him, placing one of his hands on Morro's back. "¿Disgustado?"

"¡No entiendo cuál es SU problema!" Morro started. Not realizing what language he was in. "¡Incluso estaba tratando de tener una conversación normal con Él! Y comienza con eso y- ugh..!" He threw his head on the table, but he had hit the cup of tea with his forehead, overturned the cup, letting the mint liquid run down the tablecloth, which flowed slowly on the edge and on the floor. "Fuck this!!" He screamed, feeling like he was about to throw the cup against the wall. Instead, he picked it up, placing it violently on the table. He rose from his chair, taking a few steps that swirled in a circle walk, his fingers gripped by his disheveled, disheveled black hair.

Kai was just looking at him. Morro had rare moments like this. When he had the first one, it was from an old frustration that happens again. Then he managed to calm him down because he knew the reason, but now he didn't understand him.

"Hey, hey.. it's okay. It doesn't matter that you spilled it and stained the tablecloth. It can be washed. Calm down." Kai try to calm him down with the tea problem.

Morro wanted to scream, but he was holding him in. He didn't know how he could do that, knowing that in moments like this he would throw almost everything out of his soul. The brunette looked at him, his nails still in his scalp. He had taken a few breaths.

"Okay.. Okay.. I'm calm. I'm calm." Morro had taken a few steps to where they kept the water, putting it in a cup and drink it all in one go. "Can we.. forget about it, please? And just sit in bed, fall asleep in each other's arms...?" He said softly, feeling his hands tremble.

Kai smiled slowly. He did not want to insist on the reason for the crisis, because of the emotional state Morro was in now. "Of course. Come here."

Kai reached for the brunette's waist, coming down for a kiss that had greedily returned him.

------

The Ninjas were urgently call by Wu. Morro had not received the call, nor could he.

"Ninja, you've arrived. ... Where's Wind?" Wu knew their identities in each and every Ninja, and Ninja between them, except Wind. They didn't know who Wind was under the mask, nor Wind who they were under the mask. And they agreed with that. One day they will know about each other.

"I don't know, Master Wu." Zane replied calmly.

"Are you feeling well, Kai?" Wu asked, seeing his restless state.

Kai had muted a little, surprised by the question. "No, no. I'm fine, Sensei."

"You don't look good, Master of- "

"I'm worried!" He interrupted his Sensei. "Morro should have called me or sent me a text an hour ago and he didn't..! What if something happened to him??" They had an agreement with the call or the messages. Morro had a telecaster class after school and told him he would let him know when he went out to see him, but nothing.

"Something to happend to Morro? I think you're kidding Kai." Cole said, knowing the personality of Lloyd's cousin, Wu's son.

"I'm not kidding. It's possible. Morro doesn't know how to fight. He's not like us." That had frightened Lloyd. If he knew the truth, he would have been calm.

"I'm sure my son is fine, Kai." Wu reassured him. He was not afraid that Morro was in any danger, he knew his son. If he was in danger, he would have already announced it. "I say to- " The 'Garmadon' alarm sounds in the room.

"Attack in Ninjago by Lord Garmadon. He now seems to be attacking random places." Nya said, looking at the new target of evil.

"That's... that's where I live!" Kai said quickly, recognizing the place. "When I get Garmadon, I'll- "

"Kai... If Morro is there and that's why he didn't contact you?!" Jay suspected agitatedly.

"Oh no... we have to hurry."

------

Morro didn't care if anyone could see him. The world was in danger, and his instincts came first. When he removed the last person from the building, he turned inside, slamming the doors behind him with a strong wind, blocking them.

"Heh, now let's take care of the rats."

He was walking in the white dust with all his senses on alert. He couldn't see well, but he could hear. Suddenly Morro felt a hand grip his shoulder. He quickly reached for the stranger and knocked him to the ground. From the rising smoke, three Garmadon generals had appeared.

'Looks like I'm going to have some fun today.'

He held out his hands wide, after hitting them against each other. The wind that formed next to the three of them pushed them violently together as he clapped his hands against each other. All that was left in the air was his right hand, which had begun to control the wind that was now above the enemies, pressing against them. Sounds of pain were heard. Dust roamed the room uncontrollably. One of them managed to open his eyes despite the strong wind.

"Who are you?! A monster!? Surely a monster!" He spoke agitatedly, closing his eyes again, feeling the pressure even stronger now.

Morro's eyes gleamed in shock at the generals pressed by his wind.

"Monster! You destroyed everything! The houses, the vegetation, EVERYTHING!!"

Words from the past resound in his head. His hand had begun to tremble and his breath was short of breath.

"I'm not a monster." His tone had become harsh, both hands rising, putting them in a cage pressed by the cold wind. He was about to stop their right to breathe- "Monster!" Everything stood still for a few seconds, leaving his trembling hands to fall past his limp body.

The generals were breathing a lot, telling each other to get out of here as soon as possible, that the guy is crazy, a monster. Morro felt his legs begin to tremble, clinging to the wall with his hand.

"Everything is fine.. is fine.. What was in the past is gone..." He looked around disfigured. The white dust fell slowly to the ground. "I'd better go..."

"Morro!" A voice called his name out of nowhere.

"What the..?" Morro was amazed to hear someone call his name from afar, behind him.

"Morro!" Kai stopped running when he saw his lover. He would have arrived sooner if the door had not been locked. He was too agitated to remember what he was wearing at the moment.

"Kai..?" Morro froze in shock, feeling himself tremble much harder. Now it made sense in his head why it was always so hot and warm..

"I thought something happened to you!" He reached in front of him, taking both Morro's pale hands. Kai looked at him intently to see if he had any scratches or injures. He didn't, it was just filled with white dust and shaking body. He looked into his eyes, which were full of shock and... fear? "Morro, mi corazón, are you okay?"

Morro sat for a while, processing the words spoken by the person who had made him nervous the night before. "You're.. Fire Ninja.. Flame.. Kai, are-are you Him?"

This hit Kai directly in the soul. Only then did he realize what was happening. He knew it made no sense to deny it, it was just a waste of time and words.

"Uh.. yes. Yes I am." He remembered the fighting moves and supernatural powers the generals had feared when they left the building. "How do you know how to fight so well?" If they put the card on the table, put them all on.

The brunette, now with white dust on his head, stared blankly. "Wind. I'm Wind, Kai."

"You're kidding.."

"Not at all." He had created a small tornado with both hands. "See?"

"That explains why- Omg... Were you talking about me last night?"

Morro nodded slowly. His heart was pounding inside him. He didn't know if it was from anxiety, fear, emotions, or even all three or more, but he knew it was starting to hurt. Oh, and those damn memories. Morro now expected Kai to yell at him, even leave him. He expected the worst. He was too afraid to think of a good script. But.. Kai had started laughing.

"No.. I don't.. I don't understand.. Why.. why are you laughing?" He was confused.

"Oh! That explains MUCH better your condition last night." He slowly laughed, slowly squeezing his lover's pale hands. "You just didn't think I'd leave you for that, did you?" Morro looked down guilty. "Omg.. come here." He took him in his arms. "I hid that from you too. And you. We're even. It's nothing serious, mi corazón. On the contrary, I'm much calmer now. Calm that you'll be fine.. I had to think that Wind is Wu's son. It was obvious!"

Morro slammed his fist into his chest, looking him in the eye afterwards. "No. It wasn't. I was behaving completely differently."

"Maybe, but not always." He gripped his face in his fingers.

"I say I played theater well at times- " He had been interrupted by someone's lips on his. The kiss hadn't been a long one, but it had been a calm one for the brunette. "You'd better fly, colorful Ninja.~ You don't want the rest to suspect anything. I can feel them approaching the entrance to look for you."

Kai looke behind him, then glanced back at his boyfriend. "After you know what, I'll be back, okay?"

"Mhm.. Just kiss me already."

"Your wish is my command.~" Kai kissed him again, this time it was a longer one.

T r a n s l a t e :

Kai: "Upset?"

Morro: "I just- I don't understand what HIS problem is! I was even trying to have a normal conversation with Him! And he starts with that and- ugh..!"

#ninjago #morro #ninjago morro #destinyshipping ninjago #kai #ninjago kai #kai smith #kai x morro #my written #mini fic #wu #morro wu #lloyd #green cousins #wind #flame #fluff

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little-mad · 3 years

Text

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 4

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

After the scolding he issued, Rael felt fairly confident that he would be hearing no more disturbances from his human prisoner. Despite Gavin Stone seeming to have gained a bit of confidence recently, Rael still remembered the way he had trembled and squirmed in his hand. Surely that fear would be easily re-instilled by Rael’s sharp warning.

Unfortunately, Rael’s prediction proved incorrect, an occurrence that was quite unusual and quite hated. “Hey, how are you speaking our language?” Rael’s jaw tightened as he heard the human’s words. When he glanced down he could see the man looking up expectantly through the bars of the cage.

The answer to the human’s question was relatively simple. Rael, along with everyone that worked in or around the palace, had been required to learn several human languages. The idea was that if a human visitor ever somehow got lost in the palace, any staff member they may stumble across would be able to assist them.

The process of studying languages was made much easier by imbibing potions that aided in quick learning, which explained how Rael had managed to become fluent in four human languages in a matter of weeks. Not that he really wanted the ability to communicate with humans. Perhaps his prisoner wouldn’t be pestering him so much if they couldn’t understand one another.

Now Rael needed to decide whether to answer Gavin Stone’s question or ignore it. Obviously, he didn’t know the human well enough to know which option would be most effective in getting him to shut up.

He sighed, deciding to go with a third option. “That is not crucial and therefore does not warrant a response,” Rael said in the most formal and rigid tone he could manage. He would behave as unapproachable and unfriendly as possible to deter any future interaction from the human.

“Come on, it’s boring just sitting in this cage,” the human complained, sounding far more like a child than the adult he was meant to be.

A mischievous thought popped into Rael’s mind. Ordinarily, he would ignore these kinds of thoughts while he was working. Rael was never one to fool around on the job. However, there were no alteons around, meaning there was no one to judge him or get him into any kind of trouble. The only witness was the human prisoner, who had no voice among alteon society.

After coming to an abrupt stop, Rael reached down towards his hips and unattached the small cage from his belt. “Hey, what are you--” The human’s words were cut off and replaced with a startled yelp as Rael swiftly pulled the cage, along with its occupant, up into the air.

Rael held the cage mere inches from his own face. The proximity was so close that he could see the miniscule details of Gavin Stone’s face, like the fact that the man had a little freckle near his jaw.

“If you would like some excitement, I could always remove you from your cage and carry you in my hands instead,” Rael offered smoothly, a sly smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Although, I can’t guarantee I’ll be particularly gentle. People always say I have a firm grip.”

The way the human’s hazel eyes went wide as he sat sprawled out in the middle of the cage brought Rael a sense of satisfaction. The little man’s recent actions had proven him to be nothing but trouble, if the fact that he stole from a diplomat wasn’t evidence enough. Rael was more than happy to set the human straight.

For the second time in a day, Gavin found himself being held directly in front of an alteon’s face. And man, did he not like it. Being so comparatively small, trapped in the gaze of such a massive person--it was unbelievably intimidating. It made him feel like he was a specimen under a microscope or something.

The fact that Gavin had iron bars separating him from his captor didn’t really make him feel any safer, especially considering the threat Rael had just made. The alteon’s words had sent an icy chill down his spine, and the smirk on the giant face hovering in front of him did not help him feel any better.

It was startling how Rael had gone from irritated, but mostly indifferent, to intentionally intimidating. Gavin had had the guy pegged for a tight laced no nonsense type, but apparently he had a roguish side to him. Were Gavin’s heart not hammering wildly from adrenaline and fear, he might have been able to appreciate the fact that the alteon had a hidden, less boring side to him.

“Uh--that’s not really what I had in mind,” Gavin awkwardly responded as he clambered up to his feet. “I kind of just wanted to talk…” he trailed off with an uncomfortable laugh. It was nigh on impossible to maintain any composure while a jumbo elf guy stared at you so intensely.

Rael lifted a single dark eyebrow. “Oh? But I’m quite certain you wouldn’t be so bored if I carried you in my hands.” A shiver ran across Gavin’s skin at the memory of being trapped in the giant’s hand. As much as he didn’t like to be stuck in the cage, he’d choose that over a fist anyday. At least the iron bars of the cage couldn’t spontaneously contract around him and squeeze his poor, fragile body--or at least, he hoped they couldn’t.

“No, that’s okay. I...I’ll stay here,” Gavin replied.

A smug look took form on Rael’s face. “Very well then. There should be no need for further interruptions then,” he stated.

With no warning, the hand holding the cage moved down towards Rael’s belt. Of course, Gavin was once again thrown to the floor. “Would it kill him to at least give me a little heads up?” he griped internally.

In a matter of moments, Gavin’s cage was reattached to his captor’s belt and they were on their way again. Gavin resumed his previous “withstand the giant leg bumping into you” position and, for the moment, he remained silent.

It wasn’t as though Gavin was planning on doing what Rael wanted. The giant man may have essentially threatened him and effectively scared the shit out of him, but that didn’t mean he was ready to fold. Now that he knew Rael had this whole other side to him, it made Gavin want to push him even more.

And while there was no doubt that Rael could easily crush him if he wanted to, Gavin had a feeling that doing so would get him in big trouble with his boss. Of course, the alteon could always make Gavin’s trip to the palace more uncomfortable, as he had threatened. However, that was something Gavin was willing to risk if it meant he could satisfy his inexplicable need to disobey orders.

Gavin granted the alteon a couple minutes of quiet, almost as if to lull him into a false sense of security. During this downtime, Gavin pondered what exactly he should say next. As he was thinking, he noticed his bladder beginning to complain. He was suddenly keenly aware of the fact that he hadn’t gone to the bathroom since the morning. Honestly it was a miracle he hadn’t wet himself from fear yet.

“Hey, Rael? How much longer till we get there?” Gavin asked. He looked upward to carefully watch for the alteon’s reaction.

Even from the awkward angle Gavin was looking from, he could tell that Rael’s nostrils flared, and his lips pressed into a thin, angry line. Unsurprisingly, he appeared to be displeased with Gavin’s outburst.

“Unfortunately, we still have around half an hour left,” Rael said through clenched teeth.

“That’s too loooong,” Gavin’s mind whined. There was no way he was going to make it that long without his bladder exploding. Plus, who even knew if there would be somewhere he could go to the bathroom at the palace. “Do they even have indoor plumbing here???”

“Uh--do you think we could maybe take a little pit stop?” Gavin asked hopefully. Honestly, he wasn’t even purposefully trying to be annoying this time. He was just genuinely in need of a bathroom break.

“‘Pit stop’?” Rael inquired. Apparently his fluency in English didn’t cover all of the little phrases.

“Allow me to rephrase,” Gavin said. “Can we stop so I can go pee in a bush?” Being so blunt about the subject felt strange when talking to the likes of Rael. The guy spoke so formally that Gavin had to wonder whether he’d wound his sensibilities with this kind of talk.

Sure enough, Rael’s eyes widened slightly at Gavin’s request. The fact that he was taken aback by something Gavin had done was more than a little satisfying. Ruffling those carefully arranged metaphorical feathers of his always counted as a win to Gavin.

After recovering from the initial surprise, Rael’s expression returned to its usual annoyed glower. “Can you not hold it?” he questioned, a tightness in his voice.

Gavin shook his head, though after remembering Rael probably wouldn’t catch the movement, he said, “Not likely.” The constant bouncing movement of his cage would make it all the more difficult to keep his bladder under control.

A long, growly sigh sounded from above. Gavin looked up to see Rael wearing a dark scowl on his face. “Fine,” the alteon relented as his walking came to an abrupt stop.

For once, Gavin was actually prepared for the massive movements of his giant captor. He clung tightly onto the iron bars as Rael unhooked the cage from his belt and carried it into the air.

A flurry of disorienting motion later and Rael was sitting on a log with Gavin’s cage resting on one of his legs. As Gavin looked up at the alteon, he couldn’t help but notice he was basically in the giant man’s lap. “Oh god, it’s like I’m his little pet,” Gavin’s brain moaned as his face began to heat up slightly.

Seemingly oblivious to Gavin’s embarrassment, Rael looked down on his captive sternly. “I will let you out of this cage and you can...do your business,” the alteon stated, a bit of awkwardness tinging his voice at the end of the sentence. He cleared his throat, as if to regain his composure, and continued. “If you make any attempt to flee, I can assure you that recapturing you will be nearly effortless.” Yeah, he’d proven that when Gavin had tried to run from him on the roof.

Pushing down the intimidation, Gavin waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” As if running away would do him any good at this point. He had nowhere to go in this dimension. And as much of a hardass as Rael was, he’d much rather take his chances with him than risk an encounter with some random alteon.

Rael narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized Gavin for a moment. Then, after he was apparently satisfied, he took a hold of the cage and relocated it to the ground in front of his feet.

Gavin watched as Rael’s large fingers easily managed the latch on the cage that no human would ever be able to handle. As soon as the door was unlocked, Rael pulled away and sat back up straight.

Tentatively, Gavin approached the now open cage door. Ever since arriving in the alteon dimension, he had been enclosed in his little prison. It had almost become like a little safety bubble. A shitty, no fun safety bubble, but still a safety bubble.

A part of Gavin didn’t want to leave the cage, as crazy as that seemed. Being completely exposed to the giant world of the alteon dimension was...freaky as hell. “What if a bird grabs me? Or a stiff wind just blows me away?” Gavin’s mind was racing through potential hazards he could face. But then he felt his bladder clench as the need to relieve himself grew ever more urgent.

When nature called, you had to pick up. And so, Gavin walked forward and took his first steps onto alteon soil.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael

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adhdeancas · 3 years

Text

Dean Winchester (and the script leaks last night) possessed me to write this.

Dean happens upon Chuck's latest book: Carry On. Except it ends differently than it really went, and the ending? It's really fucking bad.

tw: suicide mention, transphobia (quickly shut the fuck down)

Dean doesn’t make a habit of going to bookstores. Not because he hates books, contrary to what Sam might think; he just prefers to buy used books. There’s something comforting about a book that has already been worn and read over and over, that already shows how much the previous owner loved it. Plus, y’know, big corporations are evil and all that. And Dean only allows himself to overlook that when his stomach or his wallet wins over his hatred of the shitty mass-produced products.

This time it was Jack who won; he’s obsessed with this new fantasy series and the new book just came out, so there’s no way he can hunt it down on Ebay. He makes his way to the fantasy and sci-fi section, eyes roaming over the displays of new releases, and his eye catches on something that turns his blood cold.

“Supernatural: Carry On, The Final Book of the Winchesters’ Epic Journey” takes up a whole table, the generic and overly serious cover jeering out at him.

He storms over to the display, anger covering up for the way his body feels light as a feather and like lead all at once, and picks up a book. “Why is Sam always fucking shirtless?” he mutters, the only thought that allows itself from the mess inside his head to his mouth.

“Book sales.” A voice behind him says. He turns to see a teenager with their arms crossed over their work polo, pierced lip fixed into a customer-unfriendly frown.

“People want to see that?”

They snort, a small grin turning up the corner of their lips. It reminds Dean of Cas. “No. But that’s what advertisers think all ‘women’ want,” They use air quotes.

He raises an eyebrow and asks. “Women?”

They shrug and uncross their arms, leaning back against the display table behind them. Their nametag says Jadyn. “Supernatural’s biggest block of readers is queer. I’d go out on a limb and say a lot of those the marketers think of as ‘women’ aren’t, or if they are, they aren’t itching to see Sam’s six pack.” Jadyn smirks.

Dean takes a second to digest that, then grins down at the book, thinking past Sam’s apparently badly-received nudity now. “So how’d they like it?” he asks, waving the book a bit and looking up at Jadyn. Apparently they know a lot about the fans of the books, and for once, he’s proud of the way the story ended.

Jadyn’s face sets into all hard lines. “Most people fucking hated it.” they say bluntly, then, probably remembering that he’s a customer, correct. “Sorry. I mean, it got some good reviews, mostly from people who like Wincest, but beyond that, it had some problematic plot points.”

Dean winces at the reminder of the ship between him and his brother, then scrunches his whole face together in confusion. “Wait, what? Why?” Why would Wincest fans like it? What was problematic about their end?

Jadyn shifts from foot to foot. “I don’t wanna spoil anything for you-”

“I don’t care about spoilers, just give me the short version.” Dean says quickly. A quiet panic is rising in him, and suddenly he has a horrible feeling that he’s not holding the truth in his hands anymore.

“Uh, okay… Well, the most obvious thing is the bury-your-gays thing, then there’s the fact that it completely contradicted the rest of the lore. And it was ableist, misogynistic, and messed up, like, every character’s arc.” they take a breath, clearly worked up by it. “Even if they changed any of the details too, it was all built on Dean’s death, and that’s just bullshit. Sorry.” they apologize again, apparently mistaking Dean’s stricken expression to be in reaction to their rant and swearing.

“No, nah, you’re… you’re okay. Uh, thanks.” he waves a hand and wanders away from them, only remembering Jack’s book when he’s almost to the register. He manages to make his way back and find the damn thing, but he’s still in a fog when he gets to the register.

“Did anyone help you in the store today?”

“Huh?” he looks up and meets the middle-aged cashier’s gaze for the first time. Brent, from the nametag, looks at him impatiently. “Oh, yeah, uh… Jadyn. Jadyn helped me.” Brent scoffs and starts typing with a shake of the head. “Uh, is there a problem?” Dean asks, a little annoyed at this cashier’s unnecessary attitude. He usually doesn’t care if an employee’s rude, because they have to deal with assholes all the time and honestly Dean isn’t much better, but this one gives him a bad feeling.

“No, no, sorry. It’s just - “Jadyn’s” got this idea that he’s a girl. Makes everybody call him that name now too. Just-” Brent shakes his head. “I mean, you get it. Their generation, everybody wants to be special.”

Dean glares. “No, I don’t get it, Brent.” He says through gritted teeth. “Seems to me like Jadyn probably deals with enough assholes like you that her asking for a little basic decency is the exact opposite of special. Sounds pretty normal, actually.” He can see the fear creep into Brent’s eyes, and he knows the cashier is reacting to the murderous look in his eyes more than his actual words.

Brent hands Dean his bag of books with a quiet, “Here you go.”

Dean snatches it away. “Oh, Brent?” he checks over his shoulder to make sure they’re alone and then leans across the counter into Brent’s space. “You should find a new job, one where you don’t have to interact with other people. At least until you learn how to stop being a piece of shit.” He starts to ease away but thinks better about it. “And if you think that’s a suggestion, it’s not. My husband likes this book coming out next month that I’ll need to buy, and if I see you here when I come, well… it would be really embarrassing for you to tell all your little friends that you got your ass beat by a ‘special’ guy, huh?” He pats Brent on the cheek condescendingly and leaves with a huff.

Damn transphobes.

He only remembers the book once he’s back in Baby, and he takes the time to drive out of town before he pulls over to read it. It’s an old abandoned church, the cross long since fallen from the roof and the doors hanging off their hinges. He sits on the steps just because being in Baby seems claustrophobic for once in his life, and going back to the bunker to look at this is just… not happening.

Dean only skims the beginning to see that it starts the same. The ground erupting with bodies, hell spitting out its most-conveniently placed nasties, Rowena sacrificing herself, Cas leaving. His throat closes up at that, at Chuck’s description of Cas’s heartbroken expression as he climbs the stairs of the bunker. He clears his throat and skips to the end, right past Cas’s death that he doesn’t have the time to think about right now, past them defeating Chuck and then stops. He goes back a few pages, trying to find the disconnect.

The story’s different.

After Jack takes on God’s power, in the book, he’s totally fine. Not almost vibrating out of his skin or anything, not crying like the three year old he is because he’s scared. Not like it really happened. He just smiles and leaves him and Sam, and they let him go.

Dean scoffs, skimming over the story as it just gets more ridiculous.

In the book, he doesn’t even try to save Cas. They barely even mention him. And they never mention Eileen, either. In fact, Dean notes disbelievingly, practically the only characters in the last few chapters are him and Sam. They’re hunting again.

“What, is Chuck trying to keep the series going?” he whispers to himself, anger flaring through him. They let Chuck live, and he decided to write obnoxious fanfiction about them? He’s gonna kill that shameless little fucker. For real, this time. He deserves it.

In the book, Sam and Dean torture some vampire mime, and they enjoy it. Dean cringes; this is really what Chuck thinks of them. Then they tussle with more vamps in a barn and-

Dean’s brain stops working. He rereads the scene again and again.

“There’s something in my… something in my back. It feels like it’s right through me.”

Dean Winchester dies in a dirty barn, on a piece of freaking rebar.

More than that, Dean realizes on his fourth read-through. This Dean? He tried to drag out his speech, Dean can tell by the way he pauses for fucking drama. He would never do that. He would never talk to Sam for fifteen hellish minutes when he could be trying. Trying to live, so he can actually get his life back on track, get his family back. No, he made that speech stalling. He made that speech so Sam wouldn’t try to save him.

“You gotta admit, I had one helluva ride.” He was strangely calm.

Chuck made him kill himself.

Dean reads the rest of the book through blurry eyes, reading an ambiguous and nothing-ending, one where he’s somehow happy to be dead and driving around in heaven alone while Sam raises a kid into hunting and cries about Dean decades after he’s died. Eileen isn’t mentioned. Cas is mentioned once, and Bizzarro-Dean doesn’t even think about seeing him, apparently. The whole book ends with a hug between him and Sam, both dead. Both alone.

Dean rips the ending up. He tears through the stupid paper covering and keeps ripping the pages up until they’re the size of confetti. His lower lip wobbles. He throws the whole thing against the side of the building, and it tumbles through the broken doorway and drops into a pile of dust and dirt. “That isn’t the fucking ending.” he grounds out, knocking his hand against the flimsy handrail. It gives a little under his fist and he kicks at it. “That isn’t the fucking ending!”

He’s having a panic attack. Again. He tries to take deep breaths, but they’re gulping, too big, they’re making him panic more. He scrambles back to Baby and grabs his phone, presses the first number on his favorites list and waits for him to answer on speaker phone.

“Hey Dean, what’s up?” Sam sounds like he’s been laughing. There are voices in the background, and Dean tries to convince himself one of them is Eileen.

“Hey Sammy.” he chokes out, trying to sound normal. “You busy?”

There’s a pause, and then the sounds in the background. “Nah, Rowena’s just over.” he says casually.

“So those voices in the background were-”

“Rowena and Eileen, yeah. They’re trying to convince me we need to go to Mexico. For the beaches.” A smile in his voice. Dean lets out a sigh of relief. What’s up, Dean? You need something?” The smile drops, and Sam’s worried.

Sam’s okay. Sam’s okay. “No, nah. Hey, you heard from Donna lately?” Dean just needs to triple-check.

“Uh, no, not since Sunday dinner… Dean, you okay?”

“Yeah, she just- she hasn’t been answering my texts. Just wanted to make sure.” Dean lies quickly. His breathing is still uneven, but his body is settling into uneven shakes.

Sam sounds skeptical. “Yeah, well, she did tell us it’s been pretty busy at work lately. Y’know, everybody going out for the first time with COVID, getting stupid. Plus, y’know, nowhere’s drowning in EMTs right now.”

“Right. Yeah.” Dean takes a deep breath, a distant memory of Donna talking about that coming back to him.

“Pretty sure you were setting up a D&D session with Charlie while she was talking about that,” Sam laughs. Dean knows he means it as a subtle jab, but there’s too much relief flooding through him to care. Still, a string is pulled taut in him, and Sam can’t fix that completely.

“Gotta go, Sam,” Dean hangs up before Sam can say anything else, and goes to his next contact. It rings for far too long, and Dean’s heartbeat picks back up to thundering.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean breathes out. “Cas, you know I love you, right?” He needs to test all the bounds of this, to make sure, just to make sure. Make sure Chuck isn’t still fucking with him. Because apparently, Chuck won’t let him be queer. Not in his story. Not out loud.

He can hear Cas’s eyebrow raise through the phone, and his chest is overcome with stupid fondness. “I would be a little worried if you didn’t.”

Dean grins widely. “Like, romantically. I’m in love with you. Because you’re the love of my life and I’m bisexual.” He says it all like it’s a checklist, like he expects some cosmic being to slap a hand over his mouth before he gets each next phrase out.

“Yes, Dean. We’ve been married almost two months.” Cas is smiling. It happens everytime he talks about their wedding. Dean adores it. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, now it is.” His whole body relaxes, still vibrating with leftover panic, but satisfied. “I got Jack’s book.”

“Oh, good. He’ll be so pleased.” Cas pauses. “Dean, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean eases off the ground and sends a last look at the dilapidated church before climbing into Baby. “Just- read a bad book. I’ll tell you about it later. When I get home.”

#i fixed it #god fucking damn it #dean winchester #destiel #saileen #saileena #sam winchester #castiel #eileen leahy #castiel winchester #jack kline #roweena #my writing #ficlet #deancas #trans dean #trans woman OC #tw: transphobia #tw: suicide mention

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

1. Siren Indruck NSFW, Duck is hauling supplies for the small town of Kepler on a tiny boat. Due to dangerous storms, Duck takes a longer but safer and less traversed route. He doesn’t know he’ll be passing through a Siren’s territory. A siren who is looking for a strong and sturdy mate

Here you go!

Duck never tells anyone what he finds on the beach that day.

He’s fourteen, looking for useful flotsam and jetsam tossed onto the sand by an ongoing storm. What he finds is an empty boat and a merman, silvery tail impaled with a spear in a piece of driftwood. Each time he tries to free himself, he winces and is unable to pull the weapon from his body. When he sees Duck, his red eyes widen and he bares sharp teeth in a hiss.

“It’s okay” the boy kneels in the bloody sand, “I ain’t gonna hurt you. Or, uh, this’ll hurt for a sec, but it’ll be better than tryin to ease it out bit by bit.” He grabs the end of the fishing spear and pulls. The merman shrieks, quickly clamping his hands across his mouth as Duck pulls his handkerchief from his pocket to bandage the wound.

“There, you should be able to-”

The creature is gone with a whip of his tail, sliding down the sand and into the waves. As Duck stands, a strange song floats from the foam for the briefest instant. A seasoned sailor can tell a siren from a normal mer on sight; Duck has never been to sea. It’s weeks later that he wonders what events resulted in the wounded siren and an empty boat.

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

Any other day, Duck would put off this run until the black clouds no longer hung over the horizon. But the supply run last week didn’t come, so the isolated, coastal town of Kepler is running low on, among other things, the medicine needed to treat an illness spreading from house to house. He could put this off until tomorrow, but he won’t sleep well tonight if he does.

The boat loaded, he starts out to sea under unfriendly skies. Today is a day to follow the coastline and then circle Greenbriar Island to reach Kepler, rather than trying for a straight shot. It’ll double his travel time, but it’s far safer in a storm and no one but a few locals know how to navigate it. Duck takes this route once or twice most years. This summer alone he’s had to take it six times, with today making a seventh. The abnormal number of storms weighs on the minds of coastal residents. Duck tries not to obsess over it, given that it’s solidly out of his control and there’s no use fussing over wind and rain; there’s only getting through them.

Halfway through his journey, a rogue swell catches the underside of the boat and drags it along a rock, springing a leak in the hull. He ties off on a thin spire of stone, clambering onto a rock to try and repair the damage. It’s not a big leak, but it’ll be trouble if he lets it go.

As he’s laying awkwardly with water lapping up his legs, a human head rises from the water a few feet from him. Silver hair, red eyes and, when it smiles, very sharp teeth. Harmless mermaids have teeth much like his own, which means he’s alone in the ocean with a fucking siren.

Duck’s learned many things since that day on the beach; how a song can paralyze a man better than poison, how the bite marks on the skin of certain bodies that wash ashore are called siren kisses

The siren begins swimming closer. Duck sighs, “If you’re gonna drown and eat me, can you do it on the way back?”

Red eyes blink, confused, but the siren stays where he is.

“If I don’t make it to Kepler, lotta folks’ll get sick, some will even die. And I don’t think you got much use for medicine and canned food.”

The siren shakes his head.

“Glad you understand.” Duck finishes his repairs under watchful eyes. At one point, the siren swims all the way to the rock Duck is perched on, resting his chin on his hands, as if enjoying the view.

Duck scrambles back into the boat the moment he’s done, but no cold fingers try for his ankles and no splash announces something lunging upwards after him. A cautious glance as he starts the engine finds the siren sitting on the rock, silver-blue tail still half in the water. When he notices Duck looking, he waves.

The rest of the journey goes as planned, the relief on folks faces when Duck docks worth the peril. When he reaches the siren’s territory on his return, no song tempts him. A lithe shape keeps pace with the boat, fin breaking the surface now and then. When he hits open water, the siren turns back, disappearing from view.

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

There are sex dreams, and then there’s whatever the fuck Duck is having right now. Fingers stroke his hair, cling to his shoulders. Kisses coat his face and a voice whispers his name as the speaker offers themself to him again and again. He sees himself tangled with a man, face always just out of focus, who spreads his legs and lips so Duck can sink himself into the heat of his body. The dream is endless and he doesn’t care, doesn’t ever want to wake up.

Saltwater in his lungs renders that desire useless. He snaps back to consciousness as another wave hits him; he’s up to his neck in the cove below his house.

“The fuck?” It’s only his footprints visible in the moonlight in the sand, so no one dumped him here.

“Oh dear.”

“Jesus!” Duck stumbles back as glowing eyes peer around a rock. It’s the siren from yesterday, swimming purposefully as Duck wades backwards.

“Look, uh, when I said I wanted you to wait to eat me, I wasn’t bein serious. Or, uh, I was, but I meant I didn’t want to be eaten ever, not just then. It was a, uh, a joke.”

“I am aware.” The siren stops as Duck topples on his ass in the shallow water, “and I am sorry. I, ah, I did not mean to lure you from your bed. I was not aware my mindless singing was enough to wake you. In most futures, you slept until dawn.”

“Uh huh, sure, because sirens are known to just serenade folks without wanting to drown ‘em.”

“We do it more often than you might think.” The siren sighs, “I came here to keep you safe, and succeeded only in making you afraid.”

Duck, having scooted inelegantly onto dry land, watches the tan upper body of the siren sag. It’s awkward, a word not associated with this kind of mer. That suggests he’s telling the truth.

“You gonna tell me why you’re playin watchdog at my house?”

The siren chirps, intrigued, “In all but one future you told me to go away.”

“That’d just leave me with more questions. And so far, you ain’t done anythin other’n watch me; if you say this was an accident, I’m willin to hear you out.”

“Wonderful!” The siren claps his hands together and the tip of his tail flips out of the water. Then he clears his throat and recites, “I am known as Indrid Cold. As you noticed, I am a siren. I am also a gifted seer, artist, and lifeguard when humans are unconscious and thus will not try to kill me for rescuing them. I am an excellent fisher, and well-liked and/or feared by the larger creatures of this coastline. This is why I think I would be an excellent mate.”

“O-kay. Did you call me out here to practice your personals ad?” Duck smirks, charmed by Indrids earnest tone.

“This is not practice. I did a great deal of that earlier today. This is my formal declaration that I would very much like you to be my mate.”

“Ma--hold on.” The images from his near-fatal dream return, “were you singin’ to hit on me?”

Indrid crosses his arms, “For the last time, that song was not for you. It was about you, because I was daydreaming and my formless melody unintentionally conveyed the contents of said daydream into your mind.”

“So everythin in it, all that wild fuckin stuff, that’s stuff you wanna do with me?”

A nod, accompanied by a flash of white light under the water.

“Why?”

“Because you are strong, and handsome, and capable on the water. I watched your futures yesterday and today and saw you are kind as well, well-liked by other humans but a little lonely at night. You are very nice to that small land-otter that lives in your house.”

“You mean the cat?”

“That’s the word! Yes, you are nice to your cat. You are not brash or cruel, and you look so very nice without a shirt. I...I like you, Duck. You are everything I want in a mate.”

“Feel like I might be missin’ some gills and fins.” He jokes to cover the fact he’s scanning his mind and body for the same dreamy lull he felt during the song. What he finds in it’s place is his ego purring from praise and wondering exactly what a siren would do for his mate.

“There is no rule that says I must choose only my own kind for such activities. I, ah, I know it is strange, given how little we know of each other, but I thought that, ah, since humans will have casual sex with each other maybe we could, or, ah, that is…” He’s watching Duck with such unconcealed hope that the human almost joins him in the water.

“Indrid, I’m real flattered. But I’d be a damn fool if I didn’t point out this feels like a fuckin trap. Pretty easy for you to drag me to my death once we’re, uh, in the middle of things. Not that I’m sayin you would.” He adds when the sirens smile dims.

“A sensible concern. May I join you on land for a moment? There is something I want to show you.”

Duck pats the sand beside him, eyes following the ripples of Indrid’s tail as he swims, slithers, and slides onto the beach. It reminds Duck of an oarfish, though when Indrid spies him looking the scales flash deep purple.

“Look there” Indrid points toward the end of the silver ribbon of scales; a round, white scar stares up at Duck. The details of a day over two decades in the past return to him.

“You’re the siren I found when I was a kid.”

“Indeed. I remember you by your eyes, though your face has some echoes of that day in it’s curves. You saved my life, showed me mercy when I expected none. Sirens do not forget a favor, and we do not kill those who once spared us. I will never harm you, even if you turn me away tonight. You will be safe, whether that is in my arms or merely in my territory.”

Duck avoids the stranger sides of life by the sea, citing a lifelong incompatibility with the weird. Turns out all he needed to find his exception to that rule is a handsome siren looking at him like he set the tides in motion.

The human runs a finger up the sirens tail, sparks of purple and pale blue light igniting in it’s wake.

“Didn’t know y’all changed colors.” He pets Indrid’s hip and the whole tail lights up this time.

“I am a deep-sea siren by birth, we use light to communicate emotions.”

“Mind, uh, loopin me in on the conversation?”

“Purple means desire. It’s a common color in mating displays.” Indrid watches Duck’s hand glide along his scales, and a burst of pale blue reflects across their faces.

“And that one?”

“Submission.” Indrid murmurs, “it is, ah, not the most desirable color to show. My kind value strength and power; enjoying the opposite is an invitation to mockery.” The siren’s eyes stay downcast, even when Duck smooths silver hair from his face.

“Now, I like to joke as much as the next fella, but that don’t seem like somethin to tease about.”

“No?” Indrid’s gaze flicks onto Duck the instant before the man straddles him. Duck doesn’t even have to push him onto his back; he goes instantly, hands flat on the sand and tail twitching excitedly in the shallows.

“No. Seems to me a sweet thing like you oughta be takin care of.”

Indrid snickers, “That is not usually an adjective one uses for meAHahnn” he arches as Duck tugs his hair.

“Let’s get one thing straight, sugar; I decide what you get called. I wanna call you the most perfect creature in the sea, I will. And if I wanna call you a needy little mer who’s good for nothin but gettin fucked into the sand, you’re gonna nod and say ‘yes.’ Understood?”

The blue light flashing up his tail brightens, “Y-yes but, but why do you call me sugar? That is a food.”

Duck giggles, leans down to brush their noses together, “It’s a nickname, call you it because you’re sweet and I can’t wait to get my fill of you.”

“Ohhhh, I see.”

“You wanna see somethin else?”

“Very much soOH, oh goodness.” Indrid gasps as Duck forces his gaze towards his cock attempting to free itself from his boxers. He grinds on the supple muscle of his tail to take the pressure off, chuckles when the siren whines and tries to kiss his chest.

“Since you’re the only siren I’d ever even consider fuckin-” Duck pauses as Indrid moans loudly, digging his fingers into the sand, “you gotta show me how to go about it.”

“If, if you just continue as you are a little higher upyes, yes right there” He rolls his hips, purrs with such a blissful expression that Duck is powerless to do anything but kiss him. His affection grows when he notices Indrid clearly restraining his kisses so as not to catch Duck’s mouth or tongue with his sharp teeth. The last guy he fucked shoved his tongue down his throat without any build-up or finesse, and now all he can think is if only Indrid had made his feelings know sooner, Duck could have done away with shitty human dates and had an obedient, eager mer instead.

“Mmmmm” Indrid licks his lips, runs his fingers up Duck’s sides, “kissing is nice. It is not something sirens often indulge in, so my chances to do it are few and far between.”

“Ain’t that a shame” Duck kisses the corners of his mouth, “lips like these were made to be kissed sore.”

Indrid purrs, wiggling his tail, and Duck looks down to see a slit opening where his clothed cock has been rubbing.

“Huh. Kinda figured you had-”

“-I have both this and an appendage below it much like your own.”

“Handy.” Duck, in no mood to climb off the purring, otherworldly man, eases the waistband of his damp boxers just under his balls.

“This, uh, this ain’t gonna actually create a, I mean, I don’t wanna accidentally-”

“Nono, there is no chance of procreation”

“And you’ll be okay with so little of you in the water?”

“Yesyes I will be fine.” Indrid tugs at his hips, bucks his own into the air in frustration.

“Just checkin’ oh, oh fuck” Indrid is tight and ridged around his dick as it slides in, “fuckin christ, no wonder sailors’ll crash into rocks at the offerin of fuckin a siren, wait, fuck, that was probably rude.”

“I will let it slide” Indrid teases, the end of his tail curling around Duck’s left ankle, “on account of your body is so lovely I would beach myself and die gasping on your doorstep for a chance to touch it.”

“No need for that. All you gotta do is wait here like a good little mer and I’ll fuck you as much as you want.” The slit pulses as Duck slowly fucks in and out, and he knows he’ll have to throw out all his fleshlights after this because nothing will ever compare to the deliciously alien feeling of Indrid around his dick.

“Do, do not joke about such things.” Indrid whimpers, clinging to his shoulders.

“I ain’t. You wanted a mate, right?”

“Yes, you, so very badly.”

“Well, you got one, and you feel so goddamn good on my cock I ain’t inclined to let you swim off and be someone else’s.”

“I do not want to, I only want you, please, please let me stay.”

Duck stills his hims and the siren writhes as he leans down. The human cups his cheek, “I want you to stay, ‘Drid. I wanna get to know you. Long as you promise you ain’t gonna fuck me unless you want to, and not because you’re scared I’ll turn you loose.”

“I promise.” Indrid initiates the kiss this time, purring when Duck takes his time kissing back.

“Good. Now that we got that cleared up” Duck sits up, “be a good mate and take what I give you.” He fucks in as hard as he dares, dives back down to kiss Indrid’s lips and throat as the mer’s cock emerges. Duck finds he can grind his ass along the twisting shaft at the same time he drives his own into Indrid’s body, resulting in a wail of pleasure and teeth sinking into his shoulder.

“Fuck!”

“Sorry!” Indrid squeaks, hiding his face in Duck’s neck, “it, it is a reflex-”

Duck yanks his head back to his shoulder, near the first mark, and holds it down, “Do it again.”

Indrid trills and pain lights up Duck’s body, the perfect counterpoint to the pleasure coursing through him with each roll of their bodies. The siren chirps and moans, nips his arms and ears, slides his tail along his legs as his cock pumps frantically against his ass.

“That’s it sweet thing, cum for me while I fuck you. Show me just what my mate is for.” Duck bites Indrid’s neck and cum splatters the backs of his thighs as Indrid’s repetitions of his name drown out the noise of the waves. Duck’s orgasm follows fast, sweeps through him like the crescendo of a song carried on the night air.

Duck stays buried in him well after he’s finished, mind already conjuring images of tying Indrid down in shallow water and keeping his cock warm all day.

“Duck?”

“Yeah, sugar?”

“I, ah, I need to get back in the water.”

“Oh shit, yeah, sure.” He pulls out, tosses his sea-soaked boxers up the beach as Indrid slides into the sea. Duck wades in, stopping where it’s waist deep as the siren swims lazily circles around him.

“Such a perfect mate.”

“Glad you still think so.”

Indrid curls up to him, rubbing their cheeks together, “Thank you for indulging me. Do...do you wish me to come back tomorrow? Or to stay tonight? There are no other mers between here and my territory, so there is no reason I cannot count this stretch as mine.”

Duck kisses one of the hickeys blooming on tan skin, “How’s about you stay the night. We got some things to talk about. And, if you’re real good, I might let you fuck me when we’re done.”

Indrid grins, “My dearest one, I believe we have a deal.”

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

Nowadays, if you ever go near Kepler and the surrounding islands, you may hear people talk about Duck Newton, beloved native son, skilled park ranger, and the only man receive siren kisses and live to tell the tale.

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermaid au #siren au #monster march #monster boyfriend

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