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thebest-medicine · 11 months

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Really Cool Rings & Magic Things

Summary: Essek gives Jester a fantastic gift with Caleb in mind. She enlists Molly to help her test it out on him. Something, something, ticklish!Caleb >:3

Characters: Jester Lavorre, Mollymauk Tealeaf, Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss (mentioned)

Words: 8,029 (huh? how did that happen?)

[AO3 link]

…

“Cay-leb!” Jester’s voice, bubbling with excitement, comes from the doorway. “Essek is such a good friend! I have to show you this really, really cool gift he got me!”

A slight smile curves on Caleb’s lips as Jester bounds into the room. She dances over to where he is sitting at his desk, placing hands on his shoulders.

Caleb moves to set his quill down on the desk and turns his head, tilting his chin to look up at her wide, ever-mischievous tiefling grin. He sighs, unable to fight off the smile she often brings to him and the other members of their party, and turns to better face her.

“And what did you get, hmm?” Caleb asks.

“Come on, come on. I have to show you!” Jester insists happily.

“You are not just trying to distract me from studying, are you?” Caleb squints at her. It goes unsaid that he does not mind the interruption.

He pauses, takes the quill back in his hand, and moves faster than Jester expects him to, and—

—he runs the fluffy end under her chin. (What is he thinking?) He expects a giggle and perhaps a move or two in revenge. Another distraction that would not be unwelcome.

Jester just lets out a little chirp, rounded off at the end with a little giggle. She catches Caleb’s eye, giving him her best faux-scandalized stare. “CALEB!” She squeals, shaking her head away from the feather. “Come on, this is serious!”

This, he isn’t expecting. Jester is a tiefling, after all, and a particularly tricky one at that. She would generally be stirred to action the instant someone brought up feathers or laughing or—

She squeezes his shoulder — Caleb flinches just slightly at the contact — as she continues sincerely with a little wink. “You can tickle me later if you want to though!”

Caleb flushes a bit at her unabashed enjoyment of being tickled, he can’t help but feel a little jealous at her sincerity. He struggles not to connect the feeling of um, that — with a flustering embarrassment and flare of shame. Oh, to enjoy so genuinely, love so openly. He was learning, with them, slowly.

“You’re gonna think this is so cool, I promise.” She gives him her best puppy-dog eyes.

“Ja, fine, alright. Let’s go.” He puts on a good little show of looking put-out and annoyed as he cleans up his notes and closes his book, leaving the quill on the table. For a half a second, he wonders if he should bring it—

Her hand slides down his shoulder and into his palm, and she leads him out of the study with a skip in her step toward her room.

“So what is this mysterious magical item, hm?” Caleb asks as he follows, his hand warm in hers.

“Oh, Caleb, it is so, so cool, seriously! Essek gave me this really pretty magic thing and taught me this super cool magic stuff!” Jester teeters toward her door, gesticulating excitedly with her other hand as she explains. She is wearing a few rings, which catch his eye as they sparkle in the torch light.

“Hmm… How specific.” Caleb teases as he listens, following her to the doorway—

—to see Mollymauk sitting on her bed, casually holding Tusk Love and apparently reading (pretending to read?) comfortably against the headboard.

Caleb freezes at the threshold of the room. “Mr. Mollymauk.” He nods to the purple tiefling, then turns back to Jester. “I see… And what are you two planning then?” He tries to feign annoyance but has a familiar, friendly sparkle in his eye and half smile he can’t fully hide.

“I just want to show both of you the cool gift from Essek, no scheming!” Jester insists, tugging him into the room.

Mollymauk closes the book, setting it down. He turns to regard Caleb with his best innocent smile. “Don’t you trust us?”

“Not even a little bit.” Caleb huffs out with a laugh, a fond smile starting to form.

“Come now, Jester, what have you got to show us?” Mollymauk shifts and pats the bed. Jester plops down near the foot of the bed, leaving a space between them for Caleb.

He walks over slowly, eyeing them both. Molly gestures to the seat next to him. Caleb lets out a surprised little laugh, raising his eyebrow at them. “I think not.” Caleb gestures to the spot, then to Jester, looking at her and waving his hand a little. “You should sit in the middle so we can both see.” He suggests firmly.

She rolls her eyes at him but scoots over into the middle seat. Caleb, looking a bit smug, takes his seat beside her toward the foot of the bed.

Jester settles in with a wriggle and begins to recount the tale. Walking by Essek’s home earlier in the week, stopping in to ask him questions about spells that could be useful for pranks, shenanigans, and general trickery. She had gone back to his house earlier today after sending him a message to check in and him replying that he had something that could be really super cool (a direct quote here, Caleb was sure) and helpful for her.

“Wait, wait I—“ Caleb speaks up. “I still have some work to finish with the books before you start doing magic tricks and pulling pranks.” He makes a move to get up. “This seems awfully like a scheme.”

Molly and Jester share a brief look that Caleb catches.

“Nothing gets past you.” Molly says, rolling his head to one side, then the other, stretching his neck muscles. “Why are you always so suspicious of us anyway?”

“Because,” Caleb stands carefully, slowing his pace to not trigger their instinct to chase. He continues. “Like now, I am usually correct in my suspicions.”

“No no no, you are to-tally going to love this. You have to stay!” Jester reaches out for Caleb’s sleeve, trying to reach for his hand with a finger or two. Her eyes shine so sweetly for someone up to so much mischief.

Molly is soon standing as well, he makes a move to walk toward the door. “Oh, are we leaving already?” He exudes a calm indifference, but Caleb knows him better than that.

Eyes wide like a prey animal, Caleb moves to do the same.

Then, the tiefling is spinning around, facing him, his exit cut off. “We’ll make it quick.” He winks and pushes a slightly panicked-looking Caleb back without much resistance, knocking him onto the bed. “We insist, dear.”

Caleb laughs a little as he is thrown softly back. Jester is already starting to curl around him with teasing, poking claws.

“Nooo.” He mewls as Molly hops onto the bed after them. Caleb weakly crawls back from Molly, further into Jester’s arms.

“May-be,” Mollymauk starts brainstorming aloud, “We need to make you a little more agreeable.”

Jester makes a noise in agreement. She squeezes his sides and Caleb chokes on a yelp. He’s shivering as she moves to sit in Caleb’s lap and Mollymauk moves next to him. She takes his hands and rubs her thumbs over his wrists gently. “Come on, you wouldn’t have come hang out with us if you didn’t want to have fun.” She hands his wrists to Molly. He shifts up behind Caleb.

Caleb fails to be nearly strong enough to resist being pushed fully onto his back by Jester; he finds himself looking up right into the soft, teasing gaze of the purple tiefling. Caleb blinks a few times before shifting his gaze to Jester, who is adjusting her seat over his upper thighs.

“Alright, you know the drill.” Mollymauk grins. Caleb whines. “Up we go!” And he gently pulls on Caleb’s wrists, not meeting much resistance, bringing his arms from near his face to up over his head and pinning them on the bed.

A few giggles start to fall out as Caleb squirms, thoroughly stretched out on his back before two hungry tieflings.

“Awww, Caleb, you are so cute like this!” Jester begins, leaning down to bring her face close to his stomach. He shakes with anticipatory laughter. “But, I really wish you weren’t always so suspicious of me and Molly. It’s not very nice.”

Blue fingers pinch at the edges of his shirt, lifting the fabric slowly. She brings it up to the bottom edge of his ribs. Caleb curls his toes in anticipation, making a desperate noise. “I— I don’t.” Caleb closes his eyes and makes a frustrated little sigh. “You literally just lured me in here to— to…” He trails off, squirming in their hold.

When no one speaks, he peeks with one eye to find Mollymauk watching him curiously. Molly leans in a bit. “Mmm. To do what?”

Caleb makes a strangled noise, closes his eyes again, takes a shaky breath. “Y-You—“ Caleb whines, shaking his head and mumbling out a few Zemnian curses. “I cannot—“

“I’ll help!” Jester nearly sings. “We’re gonna tickle youuuuuu!” She wiggles her claws menacingly; they reach out for his stomach, stopping a few inches short.

Caleb gasps and recoils as much as his body will allow. His legs scramble for purchase on the bed behind her.

“Oh!” Molly coos fondly. “You are too cute when you’re all wound up.”

Jester grins down at Caleb, then up at the other tiefling. “Oh Molly! When I went to get him, did I tell you?” Caleb winces at what he knows she is about to say. “He tried to tickle me!” She continues digging Caleb’s grave for him. Mollymauk makes a pleased little sound and fixes the wizard with a knowing look.

“I- I didn’t mean— well I…” Caleb feels the heat in his face rushing down his neck and over to his ears and stops talking.

“Oh you are just asking for it.” Mollymauk grins. He takes one finger from each hand, tracing it lightly over his captive wrists. Caleb shivers.

“Aw, you totally wanted to start a tickle fight with me so you didn’t have to do anymore of your stinky, boring work.” Jester concludes. “Well, we have something a little different in mind but I still think you’re gonna like it!”

Part of Caleb wishes he could sink into the mattress, or use his hands for somatics, or that he wasn’t so partial to his friends that he would leave his work to follow them. The other part of Caleb is fluttering with an excitement deep in his belly at the prospect of the attention and affection from his friends, even if it can be a little unbearable at times. Caleb takes a moment to gather his will with his eyes closed. He draws an anticipatory deep breath that comes out shaky with giggles. “Okahahay, okay, whahahat is it?” Perhaps knowing your fate can help you… better prepare for it? Or feel better about suffering it?

“You’re gonna seeeeeee.” Jester assures him as she pokes a few places along his stomach and ribs. Caleb wheezes out a snicker, squirming under her touch and their gaze.

“Okay, okay, let’s try it already! Do a spell — I need to get in on this.” Mollymauk says with an insincere impatience, an eager grin on his face. “He’s too cute to not tickle.” Molly whines to Jester. He watches Caleb change from pink to red and laugh below him. It’s almost too easy for Mollymauk to tease, especially when he’s being truthful — and Caleb really is unfairly adorable when he’s being tickled. Jester’s fingers tease sporadically around his sides, his stomach, making him tremble.

“S-Spehehell?” Caleb questions through his giggles, trying to follow. “W-what?” He feels two dexterous blue tiefling hands finally give him a respite, and Caleb tries his best to ignore the swoop of disappointment when her hands and attention leave him. He takes a few seconds to recover.

Jester starts fidgeting with the wide golden ring on her right hand. An itch of panic grows in his stomach. “Y-you said Essek… He gave you something?”

“Yes!” The blue fingers move up near his face, making him jump. “Guess what it is!” Jester can barely contain her excitement. She wiggles her eyebrows at him, making a theatrical show of pulling off her — or Essek’s — ring, a beautiful gold double fingered ring, with two little heart shaped jewels added on the top. (Customized, perhaps?) It shimmers with a spark of gray energy and magic.

A moment of silence goes by before Caleb opens his mouth again. “Oh, no.” Molly can feel Caleb reflexively try to pull his elbows inward to cover his face. “Fuck, it’s- it’s a ring of spell storing?”

“You are so clever!” Jester reaches out to boop his nose and he flinches. “Now I can do some crazy cool wizard spells too, Caleb!” She tells him in a silly voice.

“D-Don’t tell mehehehe he found sohohome kind of — Ich weiß nicht — like a, a tickle spell?” He flushes at the thought, stumbling over the words.

“No — but, oh my gosh what a good idea though! I’ll ask him about that next time! You have the best ideas, you should come with me!” Jester replied sincerely, making Caleb let out a whine. “I do get to try out some new spells though. I’m so excited, aren’t you?”

Caleb whimpers beneath her, letting his head fall back. “Maybe more so in another circumstance..” He catches Molly rolling his eyes above him.

“Oh, it won’t be that bad.” Mollymauk says, only to laugh just after the statement leaves his mouth. He watches Caleb’s pouting face, a soft smile forming. “Okay, okay— it’s probably going to be quite bad. Hmmm.” Molly leans down close to Caleb’s ear, making him flinch to the side. “Want to make a deal, Mr. Caleb?” He stays there, breath tickling against Caleb’s ear.

Caleb swallows. “What.. What kind of deal?” He asks slowly.

“If you cooperate with us while we try out Essek’s fabulous gift— .“

“—Yes! And we HAVE to thank him after this.” Jester butts in.

“Then, we’ll make it worth your while.” Molly continues with a wink.

“It will be so much fun if you are good and cooperative!” Jester beams. “And I promise we’ll be really, really nice if the spell is extra mean!” She agrees.

Caleb, fidgeting and red-faced, looks from a purple tiefling to a blue. He sighs, somewhat defeated. “I… don’t suppose I want to make this any worse on myself.”

“Don’t you?” Molly whispers quietly before lifting his head back up, noting the red hue of Caleb’s ears as he stubbornly avoids eye contact with the tieflings.

Jester squeals with glee. “Okay, so… For this one…” Jester scrunches up her face in thought. “It’s gonna be kinda quick.” She assesses Caleb, looking him up and down. She turns behind her to regard his wiggling feet. “Hmmm. I know! We are gonna need you to spread your toes out.”

Caleb looks as though he’s swallowed a frog. “Was? Nein! What? You— you cannot be serious—“

“You heard her.” Molly sing-songs above him, making Caleb shiver.

“And… If I don’t?” He replies slowly.

Jester waggles her eyebrows down at him. “Well, then we’ll have to convince you! But remember we’ll be a lot nicer if you just listen.” She looks back to his feet expectantly.

His toes remain scrunched in anticipation. Jester shrugs, turning back to face him. “Alright, well, just let me know when you’re ready to spread your cute little toesies!” She dives forward and starts tickling his ribs, this time precise, cruel, deadly.

Caleb shrieks and shakes his head back and forth between Molly’s legs. His arms struggle weakly against the tiefling’s hold and his legs drum against the bed behind Jester.

“If you don’t want to listen… We can keep being meaner— remember, I haven’t even started helping yet.” Molly informs him with a tease. “Or, is that exactly what you want, Mr. Widogast?”

Caleb’s face grows even more red as laughter punches out of him. Jester is moving up his rib cage at a dangerous speed. “N-No! HAHA— ah no hehe I-I okay, I will— Ihihihihi I just-Ah I CAHAHAN’T!”

“Yes you can, come on silly!” Jester says as though it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Ah, Jes, let’s give him a chance...” Mollymauk smiles with a bit of pity. Jester obligingly slows down her vicious rib tickling to a few faintly wiggling fingers.

“Ahaha— Ok okay, just— just a moment, plehehehase.” Caleb pleads, sucking in air. Jester changes tactics to lightly run one finger up and down Caleb’s sides, from his upper ribs down to his hips and back. He squirms, taking a good minute to stop laughing so hard.

“Are you reaaaaady, Caleb?” Jester asks the wriggling wizard. She brings her hands up in front of him and flexes her fingers, spreading them out. “Let’s see those toes!”

Caleb can’t help the whine that trips out of him as he tosses his head back, defeated. Jester and Molly look down to his feet expectantly.

With a trembling sigh, Caleb slowly flexes his feet, spreading his toes.

Jester begins to fiddle with the ring, unfamiliar with casting another’s spells through a conduit, and places the hand briefly on Caleb’s heaving chest. “Okayyyy!“ She claps her hands. “Hold Person, Go!” She says in a silly voice. A gray-white light passes from the ring and spreads quickly over Caleb before dissipating. He freezes with a look of panic in his eyes.

The purple hands above release Caleb’s wrists. “Did it work?” Molly tilts his head to the side curiously.

No! What did you—? Caleb realizes he can only think it, but not actually speak. He is stuck, held in this position. He can still breathe, and perhaps make a bit of sound, but no squirming away, no scrunching his— Oh no. At least the tieflings had stopped t— focusing on his ribs for now. They promised to be nicer if he listened… But, to Caleb’s dismay, they then both start scrambling down toward his feet.

Caleb lets out a semblance of a shriek from his paralyzed position on the bed.

Weight settles on each of his shins. “Oh don’t worry. We’re gonna be so nice, just like I said, okay?” Jester turns to look at Caleb over her shoulder, smiling sweetly. “Even though you took some convincing. And it only lasts for a minute! And the minute already started!”

Mollymauk curls into position around his other ankle. “We’ll be nice and gentle, don’t you believe your friends?”

Caleb sees Molly’s head lean down and a panicked sound comes out of his throat.

Soft lips press against his big toe from above, and he would give about anything to be able to scrunch his toes. He waits for the nibbling, the tongue, the claws scribbling over the feet he can’t move. But then the lips are gone.

“See?” Another kiss to his second toe, teasing, gentle— and indeed though not horribly, still in fact ticklish.

Little whimpers and joyful almost-giggles start to pour from Caleb when Jester joins in the fun, tracing a few fingers over the top of his foot. “Tickle, tickle, Caleb!” She sings as she takes one hand and wiggles her fingers gently over the tops of his toes, her other hand coming up beneath them, mirroring the other hand’s dexterous ministrations. Caleb knows Jester can be much more cruel, and for now, her touch remains slow and light, but gods does it tickle. And he can’t even flinch away…

“Oh my gosh Caleb, I bet you really wish you could move your cute little toes!” Jester says, reading his mind without the use of any magic. “This probably tickles so much!” Jester grins proudly and looks over at her partner in tickling. “Look- Molly, I made a tickly toe sandwich!” She’s drawing her fingers from the tops of his toes, over and under them, tracing ten unbearable ticklish lines down the top and bottom of his foot.

Mollymauk looks over from where he’s been focused, scritching softly with one finger beneath the wizard’s toes. “Well, that looks delicious. In fact…” He plants another peck on Caleb’s toes. “It looks good enough to eat.” The words slide out of his mouth like silk, warm and teasing, the sound almost a comfort to Caleb before his brain catches up with what Molly just said.

“Oooh yummy!” Caleb catches Jester saying before—

“MMMMPH- N—“ Comes an alarmed wail just as Jester’s mouth slides — warm, slick, devastatingly ticklish — over his toes, her tongue flicking lightly between them.

Molly soon realizes he’s been wasting valuable seconds watching Jester work. The part of Caleb that isn’t completely lost in laughter catches a wink from Mollymauk before he feels the lithe finger on his right foot return to a more deliberate track. The finger pad lifts to leave only a nail pressed against the ball of his foot. Then, more nails. One hand claws gently along the upper ball of the foot, curling under his toes, while the other tickles along where the ball meets the arch. Slow, calculated, nice— well, nice enough anyway.

As his hands work in tandem, Molly feels a pleasant shiver at the thought of his own foot being stuck like this and subjected to endless teasing. Maybe they didn’t have to try ALL the spells on Caleb…

Just when it starts to feel like his chest is going to burst with laughter - so maybe a few seconds later - Jester pulls her mouth away from Caleb’s toes with a pop. “Mmmm. That was so good!” Jester loudly licks her lips. “I think we’re almost out of time, though Molly. We were pretty nice, I think…” She gives Molly a pointed look.

“Yeah,” Molly shrugs. “We can be a little mean.”

Caleb tries to scream as best he can when ten tiefling nails touch down on each foot, twenty claws scribbling ever so lightly around and under his toes. Caleb can not move, can not kick, can not do anything to stop the intrusion. It’s still not nearly the most devastating they can dole out, but not even being able to flinch away… Gods.

Mercifully, the spell comes to an end about 8 seconds later.

Caleb’s toes finally curl, and he tries to unsuccessfully dislodge the tieflings from his legs as soon as the spell ends. “P-Please— no, this ihihis not fair— bitte! Nein, Jester— AH MollYEEHEHEEHEHE!”

They continue tickling, fighting to follow his wiggling feet. “Aww, does it work more than once?” Jester muses. “I wanna try that last part again!”

“No!” Caleb swings his body upright into a sitting position to push on the tieflings’ shoulders, they keep scribbling around his soles. “P-Please— HAHA-ahaha!”

“Please what?” Mollymauk turns his head over his shoulder to meet the wizard’s wild blue eyes with a smirk. “Please cast Hold Person on me again so you can keep tickling my toes?” Molly wiggles an eyebrow at him.

Caleb’s breath leaves him with a whoosh. He tries to take a deep breath. “No! Naahahaha Aha bitte— a breheheheak— I hehehe I- I can’t—“ Caleb wheezes as he struggles to fight off the persistent fingers searching for sensitive spots on his now scrambling soles.

The hands stop briefly, and then Jester grabs Caleb’s foot in both of her hands and lowers her head again.

Caleb squeaks at the motion, but she just kisses the top of his foot and releases it. Molly sneaks in a few more scribbling nail tickles before giving Caleb a well-deserved break.

Caleb feels the weight of them lift off of his legs and cannot fight the instinct to curl up. Jester backs off of him for a moment, giving him some space to create his best impression of a ball, and looks in her notebook for the list of the spells stored in the very practical jewelry.

Molly sidles up behind where he’s hunched over his legs, hugging them to his chest, and places a firm hand on his back; of course Caleb still jumps. The hand begins tracing soothing circles around his back, firm enough not to tickle. Caleb closes his eyes, leaning slightly into the touch, and feels the residual tingling tickles become less notable.

A minute goes by, and Caleb feels a pleasant floating feeling overtake him. “So.. What did you two do to Essek to get this ring?” He asks as he finally catches his breath.

“What do you mean?” Jester tilts her head as she plops down next to the bundle of limbs curled up that is Caleb. “I just asked him!”

Caleb opens his eyes and gives her a look. “What? Did he, hehe— did he know what it was for?”

“Oh, yes dear, she explained just why we needed each of these spells to study with you.“ Mollymauk assures him. Caleb whines faintly. Molly hooks his jaw over Caleb’s shoulder. They stay like this until Caleb’s breathing is even. He first senses his impending doom when he notices two tails swishing impatiently in the air, like Frumpkin wanting attention.

“Are you ready to try the next spell?” Mollymauk nips at his ear, making him scrunch up a bit.

“You’re still going to be nice, ja?” Caleb says into his hands. “Since I have been so forthcoming?”

“We‘ll be so so so so so nice!” Jester giggles. “But you have to keep being cooperative!”

He mumbles a little Zemnian curse into his hands, and then, “Okay, okay. Let’s get this over with...” Caleb says sheepishly.

“Don’t worry, there’s still plenty to go. I can’t believe this ring holds FIVE spell levels! That was just two of them — plus it doesn’t even cost ME a spell slot. It’s using Essek’s — isn’t he so sweet?” Jester exclaims.

“W-Was? How many spells did he—?” Caleb shivers.

“Let’s find out.” Molly makes a show of cracking his knuckles. “But, after we go back to Essek to recharge this, I’m the one attuning to the ring next time.”

Jester stretches her arms, wiggles her fingers, and fixes Caleb with a grin. “What would you like to try next, Caleb?”

Caleb can’t stop the desperate sound that starts at the back of his throat at her mention of him having to make a choice.

She looks back at her notes. “Immovable Object? Or Tasha’s Hideous Laughter?”

Caleb hides behind his hands.

“Do you want me to pick?” Jester asks.

“The next one I want to try,” Mollymauk starts to explain in a calm tone, “Is one we are rather curious about.”

Caleb listens and melts into their touch, not that he can do much else.

“Oh yes.” Jester rubs up Caleb’s shins, using her palms in a way that he can tell is actively trying not to tickle. It must be hard for her to restrain herself even for a few moments, he thinks with a smile. “You see Essek said that Tasha’s Hideous Laughter is supposed to incapacitate you with hysterical laughter— keeps ya from spell casting and fighting and anything else you might wanna do!”

“Which works quite well, as we know.” Mollymauk adds.

Caleb giggles a little, still very aware of his position, trapped between the two tiefling bodies, unsure of when their touch would start to shift.

“So I asked him, how does it make you laugh? Could someone die from laughing too much? Does it tickle at all? Essek said he didn’t think so.” Jester’s voice starts to pick up speed as she gets excited wondering about the workings of the spell. The wizards must really be rubbing off on her. “Does it tell you a funny joke? Does it just make everything funny?”

“So, we’re gonna test that spell out, but not tickle you, and see how hard it makes you laugh.” Molly explains. “Then, we’re gonna see if we can beat it.”

Caleb lets out a little “Ah! Fuck—“ and curls his toes in anticipation. “B-but the spell will not tickle?”

“It shouldn’t.” Mollymauk shrugs at him.

“I wonder if you and Essek could tinker around with it though, it can’t be that hard to get it to add tickles too!” Jester adds with a giggle.

Caleb tucks that away for later. Perhaps he could use it to help get some guaranteed revenge on these two.

“Okay.” Caleb swallows, draws in a deep breath. “Okay. Do it.”

Jester once again wields the ring, pointing at Caleb.

His eyes go wide for a half a second before every single thing in the room and in Caleb’s mind and in Caleb’s chest is suddenly the funniest thing he has ever heard. A wide smile stretches across Caleb’s face. He would be blushing more if he had the wherewithal to notice two sets of tiefling eyes studying him. Instead, all he can do, all he can think about, is laughing. Within a few seconds, it’s a little hard to breathe.

There is some part of it, he realizes briefly, that does remind him of the tension and energy that builds up and bursts out of you when being tickled nonstop in a really bad spot. The tingling, electric feeling isn’t present anywhere on his skin, but he can’t stop laughing, can’t get the energy out fast enough. He cackles until he is red in the face.

Caleb blinks when he realizes the spell ended. There are tears in his eyes again, and a few streaking down his cheek. His breath comes out in heaves. A few seconds after he stops laughing, he notices a blue and purple face on either side of him, watching him.

“What did that feel like?” Jester asks. “It looked like you were having fun.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“I can… see how that would incapacitate in combat.” Caleb stumbles over the words, breathing heavily. He realizes as he comes down from the high of laughter that he has curled himself into an even tighter, squirming ball.

“Want some water?” Molly asks sweetly, petting Caleb’s hair.

A slight nod as Caleb leans into the touch. Much more pliable and cooperative like this indeed.

The touch leaving his head makes Caleb let out a little indignant sound as he tries to follow. Molly takes a cup from the nearby table.

He takes a sip when Molly brings the glass to him. Molly doesn’t let go of the cup as it trembles in Caleb’s hands. He drinks in a long breath of air, looking from the water to Jester, who was watching him sweetly from just a few inches away.

“Are you ready to try the last one?” Jester asks when Mollymauk takes the cup away from Caleb’s face and moves to put it back.

Caleb whines, pulling his hands up to cover his face.

He hears Molly make a contemplative sound and looks over at him. He makes an indiscernible noise behind his hands just as Mollymauk moves to grab a large, comfortable chair near the table in Jester’s room. “Will this do?” He asks, and she smiles back at the other tiefling with a nod.

He lifts it sideways in the air, and pulls out 4 soft silks from his pockets. He holds the chair in the air leaning all the way back, watching as Jester activates the spell. Another slightly gray crackle of magic envelops the chair for a second and it stays in place, tilted at a 90 degree angle to the floor with the feet of the chair facing the bedside.

“Alright.” Molly looks at Caleb, looks at the floating chair, looks back at Caleb. “C’mon.” He pats the seat.

“W-What? So you want me to…?”

Molly grins. “Up we go!” He repeats from earlier. Jester tugs on the side of the chair and it doesn’t budge. Her smile widens to match Mollymauk’s.

For a moment, Caleb winces, mentally kicking himself for allowing him to be so distracted from his studies… and for being so willing to go along with said distraction. “I—“ Caleb stops talking under the eyes of both tieflings. He opens his mouth, unsure of what to say.

“Here, I’ll help!” Mollymauk starts to reach out for him. Jester moves under the chair to where the boys are.

Caleb squeaks as Molly grabs under his arms, moving to lift him up while allowing a small window to tickle. Jester pushes his legs, squeezing his knees a few times. He laughs but allows himself to be hoisted up by two tricksters and sat, or rather, laid, in the chair several feet off of the ground. Caleb lays his head back against the chair, resigned to his fate and already giggling.

“Oh, you are cute.” Mollymauk clicks his teeth. He grins and watches Caleb avoid looking at him while he lets him tie his arms to the sides of the chair with the silks Molly grabbed.

Molly starts to move down to secure Caleb’s ankles while Jester passes back under the chair, pausing for a moment to reach up and squeeze once, twice on Caleb’s sides.

“Ah! Nein!” Caleb’s legs shoot up at the unexpected tickle, and he squawks in protest. His knees curl toward his chest protectively.

“Give me those back, if you have any sense of self preservation.” Mollymauk threatens with a smile.

Caleb’s leaning his head to the side trying to get a visual on Jester. “I-I’m trying!”

A blue hand appears near the side of the chair, squeezing once on his thigh. Caleb squeaks.

He schools his features best he can, takes a deep breath, and shoves his ankles down into Mollymauk’s waiting arms. “Hurry up.”

The smile Molly gives him at his petulance makes butterflies form in his stomach. “So eager to start?” He teases with a few tickles to each foot as he secures them in place.

He jolts when Jester pokes his side one more time before popping up next to him. Caleb strains against the bindings, but knows the chair is not going anywhere for an hour.

“So, are you ready, hmm?” Molly purrs as he secures the final limb to the floating chair. “I won’t keep you waiting, don’t worry.” He winks, taking a seat on the bed and wriggling into the mattress comfortably, nearly eye level with Caleb’s suspended right foot.

“Scheiße, what did I get myself into?” Caleb muses anxiously at the ceiling, mostly to himself.

He finds the answer rather quickly, when Jester, having joined the other tiefling on her bed, and he feels rather than sees her and Molly both start trailing fingers up and down his feet. Why did they have to go for his feet again?

They soon begin a sort of little competition, who can get Caleb to squirm more, laugh harder, which foot is more ticklish? Caleb’s slowly ratcheting up to lose his mind in the meantime.

“I wonder if we could find a way to make Hold Person work on just part of someone? Like it was cool but I love to see him squirm and laugh when he gets tickled, you know?” Jester wonders aloud as she scrapes several fingers against the ball of Caleb’s foot.

Caleb just catches Molly humming in agreement.

“Hey Caleb! Imagine if we could do that again, but just to your toes.” Jester says, though Caleb can barely tell she is addressing him.

“We were pretty nice to his toes that time.” Molly reminds her, scribbling his fingers up to wiggle between Caleb’s toes. “Hey. Is it worse when you can’t wiggle at all? Or when I do this?” And Mollymauk is pulling back Caleb’s toes, using his other hand to scrape, scribble, and mercilessly tickle all over the area between the bottoms of his toes and the ball of his foot. Caleb shrieks, cursing as he fights, instinctive yet futile, against the hold.

“Oooh that’s a good substitute!” Jester agrees, pulling his toes back tight on his left foot to match and holding them steady.

Caleb wails in response to the escalating sensation and increased vulnerability, gasping for breath in the two-fronted tiefling tickle attack. “AI AHA HHHA— NO— AHAHA WAIT! BITTE— HEHAHA PLEHEHEASE!” Caleb all but shouts through his laughter.

“This was such a good idea!” Jester proclaims.

Caleb can sense Jester wiggling excitedly on the bed. He catches her leaning her head forward toward where he knows his toes are. A sob comes out between laughs. He anticipates it won’t be the last by the time they’re done with him. “No- no, hahaha nein!” He cries. His view is obstructed at this angle by his own legs — not that his head has much maneuverability anyway.

Warm and wet, all at once Jester’s tongue is on his toes again. Caleb feels his body jolt at the contact. Her tongue flickers between his toes and Caleb sobs again.

Meanwhile, Mollymauk’s fingers continue a trek up from heel to toe and back again on his other foot. Again, it’s still definitely not the worst they’ve dished out to him, but he feels particularly helpless at their unmoving mercy. The chair, the silks, and the tieflings’s points of ticklish contact all hold steady. Jester sucks on one toe at a time while she wiggles her fingers up and down Caleb’s soles. Tears fall from the corners of his eyes as Mollymauk begins spidering his fingers gently over the sides of his feet, the tops, his ankles, and back around his heel to the bottoms. His feet wriggle helplessly, as much as they can, at the dual onslaught.

Several minutes go by with Caleb squeaking and giggling and scrunching his toes as much as he can manage. “Hmm. Let’s give him a little break, shall we?” Mollymauk ponders after looking up to gauge how red Caleb’s face is. “We did tell him we would be nice.”

Caleb draws in a ragged breath when they stop. Jester starts rubbing his feet and Caleb jumps at first, then relaxes more into the touch when he realizes she isn’t trying to tickle. “Mmm-“ Caleb groans.

“Feels good, huh?” Jester asks.

“Mmhmm.” He closes his eyes and drinks in the feeling. Again, he’s so much more pliable like this, accepting of love and positive touch.

“See how nice we can be when you aren’t a brat.” Mollymauk’s voice comes from unexpectedly next to Caleb’s side. He jumps a little and opens his eyes, narrowing them at Molly. He opens his mouth to retort something petulant, but falls short when he feels Jester pushing into his arches. Probably not the smartest idea to mouth off while your feet are literally in a tiefling’s hands. Though, that hasn’t stopped him before.

“Want some more water?” Molly asks him.

“Bitte, ja.” Caleb wheezes.

Molly moves away from him and over to a desk. He comes back with a gentle smile and uses one hand to help lift Caleb’s head so he can take a few sips of water. It can be draining getting the life tickled out of you, he knows, and Mollymauk prides himself in taking good care of those he takes apart. He puts the water down and starts rubbing Caleb’s temples, brushes a hand through his hair. Caleb moves into the touch like Frumpkin receiving pets. He takes more than a few sips this time as Mollymauk helps him. He sighs. “Did.. one of you note the time that you set up the chair? I would prefer not to fall on my arse after all this.”

Molly smirks at him. “You can’t tell how long it’s been?”

Caleb huffs out a little sigh, blushing. “Obviously less than an hour.” He looks up at the ceiling.

Molly’s smirk turns to a full grin.

“I know we said we were gonna be nice…” Molly says. “But…”

“I really really really want to see if we can make him laugh harder than that silly spell.” Jester rushes out, bouncing in place. Seems they are of the same mind. “We’ll be mean for a few minutes, and then we’ll be really nice all night, okay?”

“And Jester already said you could tickle her later, right? I can help!” Molly winks, poking Jester’s side.

Caleb squints at them, hitting them each with a stare. “You will both get what is coming to you.”

“That doesn’t sound like a no…” Molly smiles.

Caleb flushes pink. “As long as you stop before this fucking chair falls from the air.”

“Well we did just spend a little time tickling your little feets.” She pinches a toe between her fingers and wiggles it, making Caleb flinch. “And a little time for breaks. It can’t have been more than 15, maybe 20 minutes.” Jester adds up aloud. “How about we tickle you reeaaaaally good for just 5 minutes?”

“Just 5 minutes?” Caleb squeaks out, a little incredulous.

“Maybe ten?” Molly raises an eyebrow at Jester. “The chair will definitely still be up there for 10 more minutes.”

Caleb’s eyes shut as his giggling starts up again at Molly’s words. He squirms in his seat. Warmth rushes to his cheeks. “Was mache ich? Fine. Would you just— just ehehe get it over with?” Caleb whines as they begin to chatter amongst themselves, discussing timing, methods, technique, placement.

Molly turns to catch Caleb’s eye. “Aww, can’t wait?”

Caleb makes a face, one that looks quite silly with his blush. His eyes flicker away from Molly’s and fixate on the ceiling above him.

Mollymauk’s presence grows closer, and suddenly Caleb’s ceiling view is blocked by a smirking purple face above him. He closes his eyes to avoid looking directly at Molly, giggles falling sporadically from his lips.

Jester, standing to the side of the floating chair, slowly begins walking two fingers over the top of his foot, along his ankle, up over his shin. She pauses when she gets to his knee, pointing all her fingers together at the center of his knee and splaying them outward slowly. Caleb shudders as a laugh tumbles out of his lips.

He can feel Molly watching him; he can’t see him but he knows well the smug, confident smirk slightly soft with fondness. He shakes his head, trying to shoo away the image in his mind. What good is closing his eyes if he knows exactly what’s beyond his eyelids?

Caleb trembles when Jester gets bored of his knee and starts walking her fingers again, up his thigh. He trembles, an “Ah, no—“ escaping his lips when Jester gets up to his hip and pinches lightly.

“So. Where do you think we need to tickle you to get you to laugh as hard as that spell?” Molly’s voice comes from closer to his ear than Caleb anticipates. “Because I think I have a couple of pretty good ideas.”

A finger traces the shell of Caleb’s ear and his whole body shudders, just in time for Jester to start walking her fingers up his side. Pitchy, soft little giggles begin to pour out more consistently. He doesn’t answer, but squirms away from the blue hand at his side.

“EE— ahaha NO hehe J-Jester!” Caleb lets out a squeal when she gets to his ribs, and instead of the familiar lazy finger-walk, she starts pinching each rib individually, wiggling her fingers around to find them through his shirt. He’s full on laughing now.

As much as Mollymauk is enjoying watching Caleb slowly lose his composure, he knows they are on a time limit. A fluttering of fingers appears on either side of Caleb’s neck, and he tries to scrunch. It’s adorable, Mollymauk thinks.

“Eheheehee— dohohohon’t!”

“Don’t what?” Molly teases.

Caleb makes a slightly frustrated noise in response, but then he opens an eye, looking up at Molly with such a joyous spark in his eye, one makes something deep in Molly’s stomach flip pleasantly. For a moment, he thinks about exchanging his hands with his lips and kissing Caleb until he’s just as breathless as he is after a thorough tickling.

To keep from getting too distracted, Molly crawls his hands lower, tracing over Caleb’s collar bone, which has his shoulders and head squirming madly. Just then, Jester pinches his top rib and he squeals.

Then, there’s fingers under his arm and he’s full on laughing. Ah, Molly notices, it seems Jester has given up on her gentle walking and pinching in favor of spidering her nails quickly under his arm. Five fingers splay out toward the edges and move inward. She pokes a few times in the middle. Then, she starts repeating the changing techniques.

“Ehehehehe! Jesteheheher!” Caleb’s eye shuts again as he shakes in the unmoving seat. Something crosses his mind about the contrast between the seat that will not move an inch and wiggling tiefling fingers that won’t stop moving. But he doesn’t really get the chance to dwell on it before Molly spiders his hands down to Caleb’s other armpit.

Caleb squawks, trying to pull his elbows in to protect himself.

“Nothing you can do!” Jester teases from the side. “It’s so funny how you try though!”

Caleb’s laughter dissolves into little shrieks when Molly’s hands start pinching down to the upper parts of his ribs. “Nein!” He cries desperately, vaguely remembering his holsters sitting back in the study. “N-Not there!”

“I bet we can get him to scream if we both pick a bad spot and focus.” Molly thinks aloud. He shifts underneath the chair and reaches one hand around to squeeze either side of his rib cage.

Caleb’s eyes are already welling with tears when Jester exclaims. “Okay!” She grins, clapping her hands together. “I’ll get his feet!”

“Nein!” Caleb squeals as she does just that.

…

All of the energy building up in Caleb’s system, all of the overwhelming sensory input, can once again find no real escape but his laughter. It punches out of Caleb desperately, a few attempts at begging interspersed between. His head shakes as he forgets about everything except for fingers and tongues and teeth on his feet and ribs.

What feels like 3 hours goes by, though he’s still floating in the chair so of course it has been less than an hour. Caleb’s laughter has gone silent by the time they finally ease up.

“This— this, what—“ Caleb can’t quite string his words together. “You— mmm.“ He stops trying, laying his head back with his eyes closed. A pathetic sound wheezes out of him.

“We need to make a spell that does this.” Jester beams, gesturing to the puddle of Caleb between them, regarding his disheveled state. “Maybe we could show Essek a little demonstration so you guys can tweak the spell.”

“N-No..” Caleb whimpers, giggling.

“Ah, I don’t know — it’s so much fun getting him like this the old fashioned way.” Molly says as he begins loosening the ties on Caleb’s wrists. “Alright, help me Jes.” He turns to Caleb. “You were very cooperative, thank you. I would apologize for being so mean at the end there but...” He presses a kiss to his temple, catching Caleb’s eye with a knowing look. “Anyway, I don’t know how much studying you’re going to get done in this state, but I definitely learned something about magic.” He rubs Caleb’s shoulders, squeezes soothingly down his arms. “Think we can study more magic this way? You might just get me into the arcane.”

Jester undoes the last lower silk. Caleb mumbles something unclear in response as the two of them haul Caleb out of the chair and onto the bed.

“You were both very mean.” Caleb says with warm affection and a smile on his face. He wraps his arms around both tieflings as they snuggle up to either side of him on the bed, practically floating in their warmth. There’s a few light nails tracing along his arm, giving him pleasant shivers, while another hand cards through his hair. Caleb’s thoughts — what’s left of them — drift back to his study, the books and quill and notes abandoned for the evening; they will be there in the morning. Yes, he thinks as he yawns, it would have been a good idea to bring the quill.

…

About a quarter of an hour passes when the chair drops from its hold, startling the trio. Mmm, Caleb thinks, they could’ve gone a little longer.

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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euphoricfilter · 1 year

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hi honeybun i’m back!! i’ve been on depression shit and i fucked up ny sleeping schedule again (only bc i’ve been getting high every day which i normally don’t to sigh) but just wanted to say hi to my fav<3 recently it became colder where i am and it’s just making me wanna cuddle with all seven gorgeous men, but hobi just would be the coziest <3 i saw a lil video promo for his doc and he just looked so fluffy and cute. wanna hold him !! you probs have already answered this but i’m a bit new so i wanna know, who’s ur bias in the group? for me it’s namjoonie but the rap line has my entire heart<333 ofc i luv all of them evenly but my babies :((( also i declared tae to be my twin flame only bc we are literally born a day apart (on a calendar basis he’s like a few years older than me lmao) but i just luv capricorn men so much and we have some sort of the same personality we r basically the same!!!! jk and jimin are my babygirls they r so cute :,))) and as for jin, the man is too beautiful i would just stare at him he intimidates me sm i would be like pls have mercy on me. i would literally be this emoji 😦 if i ever saw him !!!! gonna go dive into some fluff bc im feeling a bit down and then head to sleep soon bc it’s 5:20 am for me and i haven’t slept so gn/gm bae <333 luv u sm :D-🌙

omg you’re back!!!!! honestly me too 😭 since i’ve been visiting my friend i think my sleep schedule has been wonky but alas i’m still alive, i was slowly teetering on the edge of a depressive episode a couple of weeks and and i just 🧍‍♀️somehow pulled through and i’ve been doing okay recently

fave? babes you’ll give me a massive ego, i’m simply existing

koreas been colder than shanghai has been recently but it’s not unbearable so i don’t mind it, yesterday was pretty nice considering how cold it was when i first got here

i saw the documentary video teaser, hobi’s so cool i wanna levitate 🫶 i’m really excited to his creative process, and how he like organized the album, kept up with the schedules for it, just like a deeper dive into jack in the box and what happened behind the scenes, i always find stuff like that really interesting

noo it’s okay, i think i’ve only mentioned it once like ages ago, idk if it’s obvious by everything i reblog but i’m jungkook biased 🫶 that man can get it, there’s no way a man should be that pretty and get away with it, like i want to be him. i could write a whole thesis about why i love that man and why everyone in the world should love him too and he’s so pretty star cutie 🫶

namjoon is 100% my comfort person, i see him and i just ☹️ words aren’t enough to explain how much i adore his existence, if namjoon had to be an emotion then it would either be comfort or reassurance, simply having him there is reassuring enough that you’re doing okay, that simply living is enough and by some weird miracle, he doesn’t know what we all look like but you feel seen 🫶 anyways i love joonie too i just 🫶🫶🫶🫶 if i could only ever say one thing to him i think it would be thank you

idk which members count as compatible? is that the right word, with my star sign. i know me and hobi are both born in february but that’s it 😭

jungkook is the personification of the word baby girl, you can’t tell me otherwise, there’s just something in the way he holds himself that screams baby girl and i love him so much 😭

me if i ever happened to be in the same room as jin 🧍‍♀️

i literally wouldn’t even know what to do with myself except run in the opposite direction

i hope you feel a little better later!!! and have a good day <3

MWAH 🫂🫂 ily <3

#ask #🌙anon #HONEYBUN 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶#IM GONNA SELF IMPLODE #secrets out #im a sucker for cute petnames #like whyd you have me giggling and kicking my legs 😟

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mercyxkilling · 2 years

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i wrote a drabble for @emptyvictory because i had mentioned that i’ve never really wanted to introduce the most important ‘npcs’ in mercy’s life to a whole lot of people, but niko is very much the exception. (i’d happily let others meet them, too, of course, but only once i feel that the relationships mercy has would lead there, and only if the circumstances were just so.) i have another that i still want to do, but this one took a few hours of non-stop writing, so i may... wait for it, unless it haunts me so much that i have to get it out sooner. idk if anyone else would have an interest in this, or in seeing how mercy behaves with her family and how unafraid she is to be a nerd and vulnerable and human, rather than what she always tries to act like otherwise, but it’s here, under the cut if you’d like. i also don’t know if it’ll read as well as i want it to, or if you’ll enjoy it as much as i hope that you do, and i hope that you don’t mind how rambley i can get or the length... and i hope it’s not disjointed and hard to follow or understand why i went into this fact or that, it was all just... out of me before i knew it. i should edit it, but i also want to share what it looks like now in its rawest form, when the emotions were all there and ready to go to spur me into this. not sure if that makes sense, but. i’m doin’ it. i wanted to do something more wholesome and fun and sweet but not without a touch of sad because that’s just the way it works, yo. that’s the life. anyway i’m just all words because i’m finally feeling better and i’m finding more excitement and muse and i’m a;lskdfj okay i’ll stop here IT ACTUALLY IS NOW I HOPE YOU LIKE IT MERRY CHRYSTLER

mercy had always been good with kids. maybe it was because she was, essentially, just a big kid herself. and after finding out she couldn’t have her own, she would often be heard saying that sometimes… she just had to be one herself. it was why she got along so well with her brother’s children, why many would ask her to babysit their own kids, or why sometimes the men in her crew or their girlfriends or wives would come to her and ask her for advice. it wasn’t a thing that she minded so much, though there was something there that occasionally left a heaviness in her chest, or a tightness, too, that at times could feel as if someone had a vice-like grip around her throat. it was a constant reminder of what she wanted but could never have, just one more thing that had been ripped away from her before ever having the opportunity to say yes or no to, the chance to have a family, to be normal. at the time she’d discovered this mercy had lacked the emotional maturity to look at her options, to understand that she could have still had a normal life, could still marry and eventually adopt, but she had been too angry and felt that it had all been so unfair that she didn’t take the time to consider anything of the sort. instead, like always, she let that negativity fester and spread, her rage like a disease for which there was no cure. she had thought back then… why try when every time she had, each thing she would ever want would be taken away from her? what was the point of trying to have the things she wanted if they weren’t attainable from the start? always there would be something. something that would take it all away from her, either before she had it or before she could even start to work her way towards obtaining it.

her mother had never loved her. she’d taught mercy that instead of being able to look to those you trusted the most, the ones that were supposed to care about you and love you unconditionally, the ones that were supposed to protect you could not be counted on. her brother had taught her essentially the same. their combined disdain for her made her realize a long time ago that she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself and that she’d have to learn to do that quickly, or she wasn’t going to be able to survive.

her father… well. he was gone. and she’d spent years being angry at him for leaving her alone with them, even though she knew that it wasn’t his fault. but grief did funny things to people, especially when you were young and didn’t understand how life worked. not completely, anyway. he’d been her only support, the only one that made her think that she could be capable of doing anything good. he taught her all that he could, tried to keep her on a path that would take her to better places than the neighborhood she’d grown up in, away from the crime and violence and death. away from the drugs or the women who sold their bodies. he taught her that, while he didn’t want that life for her, that she also shouldn’t look down on them either. some of them didn’t have the choice to do anything else. in their neighborhood, the options were limited. he was a cop. he knew how the system worked. he had known who the city took care of and where the patrols went, where the calls came from, and the treatment the people from each borough got. some of those people didn’t have the education to get themselves out and had to feed their families one way or another, no matter how the law was concerned. mercy knew that he wanted to help them but couldn’t do anything other than react. back then, he’d inspired her to try and change things for everyone for the better. to learn the law, to learn how to fight for those people, and to make the changes they needed so her father could be proud, proud that she could do the things that he had tried so hard to change but couldn’t.

but it had been hard to stay motivated to live a different life when all mercy saw every day and was surrounded by were men and boys that told different stories. they were all successful but never seemed to work. and her mother encouraged her that she didn’t have to work so hard for anything when she was as pretty as she was. why bother? there were other ways to do things for people that could still help them. she could make her money, she could earn, and funnel that back into the neighborhood without having to put so much work into going to school and fighting that fight. mercy wished that she’d understood what it was her mother was doing back then and how she was trying to influence her, but she’d been so young, and all she’d known was that her mother was finally taking notice of her.

she’d still went to school, though. mercy just wanted to learn. she liked it. and she needed to know things if she were going to operate efficiently in her life. she needed to know the streets, but also how things worked outside of where she grew up, if she were going to make some kind of mark on the world.

it had all been so confusing, though. her mother still beat her, still seemed to hate her, never gave her enough to eat or supported her, and always favored her brother. but she would, on occasion, show an interest when it meant she could utilize her daughter’s skills in some way. mercy’s quick hands, her lithe frame, her skill at charming others or negotiating, her indomitable will… they were all things that marie had found useful in some way, or just enough that she’d ask mercy to do things for her or some of her many ‘uncles’ or ‘cousins.’ bring this bag here, take this message there, go get that for me, don’t leave without a ‘yes.’ she’d follow orders without question, hoping for love and acceptance, only to be asked to do something else. it was a vicious cycle and a pattern that just would never seem to be broken. when mercy was old enough to finally see it, and grow tired of it, she became defiant.

it was then that she saw just how terrible the wrath of her mother could be, and why she no longer spent any time at home. if mercy did, it was to sleep long enough for a bit of rest and she would sneak out before morning, before marie was up for the day. by then her father was always gone. the city was always in need of the police, organized crime rampant with each family digging their fingers into something and always there were arrests to be made. because her dad was just a patrolman, he worked the streets for petty crimes, constantly pulled to all parts of the city, while his fellow officers were asked to do the more important jobs. because of his marriage to marie, he’d never been given the chance to move up. corrupt cops weren’t new, and some of them were even barring his way from making rank, while the legitimate ones were afraid of what his connections could do to their agency. while he hated that he wasn’t doing more to help, it gave mercy a sense of relief to know he wouldn’t be out there in the thick of it, risking his life like the way his friends were. but again, as always, there were other forces at work, and again, what she wanted, cared for, or loved would always be torn out of her grasp before she could ever truly find a way to appreciate it or know how much anything mattered until it was gone.

her father had been killed. and she was angry. she was angry at him for leaving, angry that their last conversation had ended in an argument, hated herself for her last words being ‘you know what? fuck you, dad.’ the one person that loved her, took an interest in what she liked or supported her in her endeavors on pursuing those passions, the one person that did protect and love her despite all the horrible things she was getting involved in… was gone. and she couldn’t do anything. she didn’t know where to start looking or who to go to. she lost herself in her grief and her rage, and spiraled into very dark times. she wasn’t any good to anyone back then, least of all herself.

it took time to rebuild herself. mercy knew that she hadn’t done a very good job of it, either. she was barely functioning but always doing something, trying to earn, trying to establish herself, trying to keep moving so she didn’t have to think about anything other than what she wanted. she wanted influence, enough to find answers. she wanted wealth, enough to entice others to work with her. she wanted to make her life better and than the shithole that she crawled out of, and if anyone tried to get in the way of that she’d crush them beneath her heel. her methods weren’t the best, and she knew she wasn’t doing this the right way, not the way that would make her father proud, or in a way that would bring the change she wanted back to those she once thought to help, but the further she went along the path, the harder it was to remember a lot of her reasoning. not much else mattered to her.

perhaps that was why, when all four of her nieces and nephews had come to stay for a few days during their break from school, it seemed so shocking to watch mercy’s hardened exterior melt and morph into something much softer. she was an entirely different person, someone that almost seemed… normal. a normal ‘cool aunt’ that built pillow forts or made janky microwave s’mores and played video games with all of them. she listened to each of them when they would talk, though haruka and minato were more focused on their phones most of their time there. but they were older than junko and keiji, moving on and growing up, interests shifting to other things. it broke mercy’s heart to know that she’d not been there enough to see them grow or watch that transition from child into teen, but they were still there, and they still wanted to be there. all of them told her as such. that she listened to them and that she made them happy or feel special, perhaps in ways that their own father did not. it hurt to know that mercy’s brother wasn’t present enough for them, and was appalled to hear of some of the things he would do or say, or the things he wasn’t doing, to keep his children happy. it only motivated her to be the influence that they needed, or the source of joy that they couldn’t seem to find back in their own home. himiko, mercy’s sister-in-law, was a good woman, but she had no backbone. she didn’t stand up to jimmy and his bullshit, and while she loved all of her kids, she wasn’t giving them the aid they needed.

mercy had to step in. but there were actions to take, laws to follow, paperwork needed to be filled out. it was going to be a process. and at that current point in her life, mercy knew that staying with her wasn’t safe enough for them, either. it brought her a new kind of pain, but one that was also a little familiar. it was the feeling that, try as she might, and no matter how badly she might have wanted something, she just wasn’t enough. something had to change, and it had to happen fast. these kids needed her. but she wasn’t even sure how to start.

lost. she was lost. again.

but she would hide that, and hide it well, until she could address it properly. right now they needed her to be what she had always been. someone to make them feel loved and cherished.

it was a little weird, though, that niko was there while she was doing it. he was free to come and go as he pleased, and she would always offer that to him, but mercy didn’t know if she was ready to show him every side of her or introduce him to every aspect of her life. it would be a danger to them both, and to all of the children, and it might have been too much too soon. she knew she loved him. she knew she wanted him around and that she was happier when he was there. but was he ready to know all of this? did he want to? kids were difficult to deal with, even the best-behaved ones. having four of them to entertain all at the same time was an affair, to put it mildly.

the fact that he hadn’t just left seemed to tell her that he was at least trying to know more about her, but she didn’t know how to read him. he looked as lost as she felt, but also awkward and unsure. before she could make her way over to him and whisper in his ear a reminder that he didn’t have to stay, junko had snuck her way over to him and slapped a paper on the coffee table in front of him. she and keiji had been finger painting with mercy’s help and it appeared the little girl had taken enough of a shine to him that she’d made something she wanted him to have.

“for you, uncle niko.”

and she shyly hurried to make her way back to her aunt and hide behind her, while still peering around the older woman’s side to see niko’s reaction to what she’d given him. she was embarrassed yet excited, still not quite old enough to the point that she could actually really talk about what she wanted to convey or to want to talk at all. mercy was curious to know how this would work out herself, but she also didn’t want to just gawk and make him feel even more awkward than he probably already felt. and while everyone was ‘uncle’ to her nieces and nephews, she worried that the implications of ‘aunt mer-mer and uncle niko’ would hit harder than anyone had ever meant it to. (ugh. mer-mer. now niko had heard them call her that, too. how embarrassing.)

she needed to shift the attention away from him somehow, so he wouldn’t panic and feel stared at, or to hide any reaction that he might have that would have been seen as somehow unfavorable. junko wasn’t the best artist, and she didn’t want niko to force himself to act in a way that suggested he knew just what the fuck she’d attempted to actually create. (a dog that looked like a banana with legs that bent in weird places, then a group of stick figures next to it that—judging by how many figures there were—had all been meant to represent each person in the apartment as a happy family, if anyone was curious.) now that he’d been pulled into the night’s activities, mercy didn’t know if she could tell him he had the chance to escape anymore. not right then, anyway. she couldn’t blame him if he did still give them all the irish good-bye because it was just too much, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t cause her some bit of annoyance. she’d have to explain it to junko in a way that didn’t hurt her feelings and in a way that made sense, not watered- or dumbed-down, but in a way that would make her understand. it wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have.

so she reached up and, her fingers still wet with finger paint, rubbed at her forehead, pretending to have an itch. which prompted keiji to let her know she had something on her face.

“what? i do? where?”

“right here,” he answered her and touched his own forehead, not realizing he’d just gotten paint on himself in his attempt to help her.

“oh word? ya sure? ‘cause i feel like i got somethin’ over here, though.”

mercy ran her thumb down her right cheek, leaving a smear of purple behind. junko and keiji were pointing, giggling, and the tension seemed to lift from her shoulders.

“no, it’s there!”

junko was pointing, and mercy was keeping a strangely straight face as she swiped more color on her other cheek, then across her nose, shrugging as if she had no idea what she was doing.

“i can’t get it. can’t see it. what am i gonna do?” in a faux display of disbelief and stress, mercy put both palms on the sides of her face, thus making even more of a mess than she’d started with.

from nearby haruka rolled her eyes but moved to grab paper towels from the counter to slide over to her aunt. the older girl could act however she wanted, the slight smile on her lips revealed much about how she felt.

mercy was just like a big kid.

but so the fuck what? she could even see minato smirking out of the corner of her eye, so she knew she’d made them all at least a little happier. that was worth more to her than she could say, so she didn’t give much of a damn about how anyone else saw her.

before reaching for the paper towels, though, mercy turned to face niko with a slight grin.

“so, scale of one to ten. how beautiful do i look right now? be honest. ‘cause i don’t think i’ve ever looked this good in my entire life.”

she hadn’t expected an actual answer, but by the way he returned her smile, maybe he wasn’t feeling quite so tightly wound as he might have initially. at least she hoped as much. the woman proceeded to wipe her face clean before helping keiji do the same, then after she was satisfied everyone was entertained enough to pull away, she moved to niko’s side and joined him on the sofa.

“if ya don’t wanna stay ya really don’t have to, okay? i know this is a lot, and they’re gonna hang out with me for a few days while they can. i don’t wanna put ya in a weird place, y’know? but if ya stick around, we’re gonna play dinosaurs.” she leaned in, eyebrows raised, her voice a loud whisper to put emphasis on how clearly awesome that was and how happy it made her. but she quickly sat back up straight to give him room again if he needed it. “i’ll even let ya be a raptor. ‘cause i’m just that nice. but for real. i know they’d love for ya to be here, but if ya don’t—”

she frowned, wondering why he was looking at her the way he was. he looked amused, and almost like he was ready to laugh at her.

“fu—” she stopped herself before she could finish the curse, having made it a point not to drop any foul language in front of the kids a long time ago. “friggin’ what? what’s so funny?”

was he making fun of her? laughing at the way she behaved with these children, the kids she loved with her entire heart? was he making a mockery of something so fucking private and personal? it didn’t seem like something he’d do, not out loud anyway. she’d known him to sometimes be downright cruel, but never to her, and never like this.

but then niko reached out and ran a few rough fingers over the bridge of her nose and pulled his hand back. she watched him lift it to show her his fingertips. they’d come back streaked with blues and purples.

oh. oh god. she’d missed a spot.

she felt like such a fucking idiot.

“l-look, do ya wanna be a raptor or not? it’s a very important question.”

that he did silently chuckle at, and mercy turned away to cover her face with her hands out of embarrassment, probably adding even more to the mess that was still on her face.

foolish as she might have felt, though, this was the happiest she’d been in a very long time.

#emptyvictory #meRRY CRISIS #i wanted to do SOMETHING and i know we talked about my writing something like this for you before so #i thought maybe this might be #a nice little thing to read #a little christmas-y gift thing because i can't do much more than this and i wish i could and i'm sorry that i can't #you're such a good friend and a wonderful person and i'm so proud of you for getting through finals while having to deal with so much #it wasn't fair and it still isn't and i'm sorry you had to and are still going through some stuff #but you're so strong and i'm so happy for you and to have you in my life #and i know you're going to do such good things once you're done with school and i hope all your dreams come true #you deserve to have all that you want and all the best things in this life #i'm so proud of you #i knew you could do it!!!#BUT ANYWAY SORRY UH #i hope this isn't too off beat for niko but i didn't know if he'd teeter on staying or going or would have even stayed as long as he did #but i also just #y'know #ya already know we talked about it ok i'll stop ily sm #i'm hungry for whatever comes next ( niko x mercy )

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marginalias · 2 years

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relistened to the album a few times and i actually love skinz - it’s probably my favorite track, but that’s because i’ve been on an industrial/noise kick for the past year - and thematically ip2 does feel like ip1′s evil twin (skinz>libido, suit dance>instinct, gaslighting>byredo, ult bliss>tog, it even has the same progression lol)

some thoughts (music, performance, mv, lore), maybe too many thoughts

ip2 is a really good album but absolutely feels like it’s gone through a massive transformation from whatever the initial concept was - i feel like i can hear a few points where the lines have been redistributed, it might just be confirmation bias and presumably a lot of this stuff has been rearranged/restructured/rewritten to better fit a group without... their... lead... vocalist...... brb have to go smash my head through a cinderblock

ANYWAY

thoughts on the music: oh they’ve done it again my god. skinz/gaslighting genuinely addictive, put ult bliss in the MOMA, suit dance just genuinely nice and fun. all their performances are incredible and their repertoire of vocal techniques has expanded unbelievably in the past year. extremely extremely impressed with kyubin in particular, especially because they autotuned the shit out of that man in asoiaf and now they’ve figured out how to use more of his natural vocal color/his technique has improved so much! love hearing mill get more lines, killing the rap verses even though they should have perhaps rewritten the gaslighting verse to not contain the word “teetering” just my opinion. they’re really playing with texture and dynamics as well - whispering, growling, belting, falsetto, WHOEVER WAS SINGING AT 2:09 IN SKINZ I WILL --dialup noises-- like i almost ascended.

i still think ip1 is the stronger album in terms of unity of concept - suit dance my beloved i am still not entirely sure where you fit in this album of toxic possessive sm anthems but you’re doing great mwah

thoughts on the stage performances: genuinely if not for the skinship bits, it’s just a solid sexy bg performance. it’s kind of down there with sage in terms of coherency - there are a lot of disparate parts interspersed with cool points. i think the “death drive” concept behind ip2 (restoring earlier states of being with the end goal being nonexistence) explains the repetition of a lot of previous choreo (i counted designer, dora maar, asoiaf, savanna, libido, maaaybe angel? and love’s characteristic power gesture that he likes to do while belting ok cry break). i think if the original lore was intact all of this would make so much more sense as a death drive concept (starts with libido, ends with savanna) and tie into the time travel narrative from dpj/lsg.

based on that, if you held a gun to my head and made me guess, i would say the skinz choreo has been in the works at least since the end of libido promos and they didn’t have the budget to create something out of whole cloth after aug 2, so we’re seeing them change up the formations slightly to disguise the fact that there’s an even number of members. the first stage had some holes in formations that probably only showed up because of comeback nerves. kpop performances lend themselves better to odd numbers of performers --gritting my teeth-- but astro and oneus make 6 work, and i think shinhwa was a 6 member group, so it’s not impossible, just not the most convenient number to work with. but i think this was pretty clearly originally designed for 7.

also oh my god i had forgotten how much i LOOOOOVE popping and locking bless them for giving mill that little spotlight.

thoughts on the skinz mv/lore: booooo it was funded by thoughts and prayers. would not be surprised if they blew their actual funds on an mv shoot with all 7 members in july and then had to reshoot this in nov/dec after delaying their fall comeback long enough to revise the whole album and oh i will stop there before going full doomer about 8d’s financial ruination.

the mv itself is pretty but feels like a really weak refrain to libido, where you have these intimate shots and innuendos representing the ego/conscious in color (junji-rie lollipop scene is highly underrated as one of the most shockingly sexual parts of the libido mv btw and i haven’t seen anyone talk about this) and then sink the viewer into the black and white realm of the id and subconscious desire. it does a really good job of highlighting the point choreography too.

if libido is about the entanglement of repressed sexual desire and divinity and creation, then we would expect the title track of ip2 to be destrudo or mortido and for the album to talk about monstrous/consuming sexuality and gross mortality and destruction. and the MUSIC!!!! DOES THAT!!

but the mv is sort of a flat sketch of the music - skinz is about the death drive (destrudo/mortido) as repetition and restaging of scenes from earlier in life, the eruption of the past into the present, the desire for destruction at the hand of a romantic/sexual partner - and the mv is about, um, a fan’s desire to be accepted and possessed by their idols in the most G-rated way possible, i guess? there’s not really a way to y/n your way into a choreography without a backup dancer which they absolutely cannot afford right now, so i’m seriously wondering what the id (b/w) portions are supposed to be representing. a fan’s sexual appetite for their idols underlying benign fantasies? if we were going to go this route i think we should have also gotten voyeuristic handicam aspect ratio from inside the choreography, as if someone was inserting themselves into both the id and ego of the video and “possessing”/restaging the full experience of the libido mv.

also it’s cool that they literally “restaged” the mv on the black platform! not entirely sure what the glitch/artifacting effects are meant to indicate - maybe artificiality and simulation - but they do remind me of this brian eno quote:

Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit - all of these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided. It’s the sound of failure: so much modern art is the sound of things going out of control, of a medium pushing to its limits and breaking apart. The distorted guitar sound is the sound of something too loud for the medium supposed to carry it. The blues singer with the cracked voice is the sound of an emotional cry too powerful for the throat that releases it. The excitement of grainy film, of bleached-out black and white, is the excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the medium assigned to record them. (from A Year With Swollen Appendices)

speaking of aspect ratio why were the color/ego shots pillarboxed so inconsistently? are we actually communicating different things when the color shots are letterboxed vs pillarboxed? because the taped footage from the practice studio in the beginning has the same aspect ratio as the shots that are supposed to be a fan’s y/n fantasy, but seems to communicate that someone is observing? am i looking too hard into an mv that clearly has a budget of whatever mom had in her wallet at the moment? the answer is probably yes but i just want to believe in competence so bad.

i wonder if the original mv concept was more grimy? i know a lot of people were theorizing that someone would die, and i was ready for a kind of dc deja vu/oneus tbontb thing where people are killing each other offscreen, but from the skinz mv teaser i was expecting “smack my bitch up” by the prodigy, and it has echoes of that - initial scene with the car as the hit and run, the ktv room as the bar, the beach as the strip club - without the misogyny (thankfully), recreational drugs (would probably get them banned in korea), or violence (boo). again, might be confirmation bias, especially since the first person shooting style was probably chosen for budgetary reasons, but i would have loved to see that sort of destructive/self-destructive all-night bender rampage, especially because the “smack my bitch up” mv was incredibly controversial and highly censored and i know jaden jeong is probably into that kind of thing.

anyway i will update this if the suit dance mv has anything to say but i have no idea at this point so i will conclude my thoughts after saying that i hope they haven’t actually ditched the lore. doesn’t seem like it at least music-wise but holy smokes this mv was dire. maybe i’m missing something! who knows! someone else figure out the aspect ratio thing please and perhaps this will all make sense.

#onlyoneof #m #can't believe this group has me talking about my nemesis: psychoanalytic theory #i did my time! i read lacan and kristeva and everything! jaden jeong stop challenge!

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bumbleberrysky · 4 years

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alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 04

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3k rating: sfw warnings: none really

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It’s something you’re destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you’d thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you’re suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you’d been brought here in the first place? Maybe… Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

prev. || next

“Alright, Jack, I’m going to show you something really important, something you can’t tell anyone about. Not even Dean. Alright?”

The blonde before you hastily nods, eyes wide as he gives you his whole attention. It’s almost childlike, the way he puts everything he has into every activity he does—even nodding to show you he’s listening to what you’re saying.

You know that he is being truthful, and that if you ask him he won’t tell a soul, but for effect you keep your eyes trapping his own, just for a few moments longer. When you’ve ‘deemed’ him trustworthy enough, you let your expression drop into a smile and you smack your hand affectionately against his bicep.

“Great! I knew I could trust you. To be honest, you can maybe tell the others, but definitely not Dean. If Dean finds out…” you make a solemn face. “This whole operation will go down in flames. Got it?”

“Yes, I understand.” Jack says, fidgeting on the spot—he’s curious about what you’re going to show him, you can tell from the way every so often his eyes will flit about, searching the room behind you for something that might give away what you’re talking about. He gives you a bright grin, as though to show that he is ready.

“Excellent,” you say, clasping your hands together. “Follow me.”

You turn and begin moving over to the corner of the room, knowing without even having to check that Jack is following you—like a little duckling, if memory serves you right. You’ve only known him a few days but you know for sure that if anything happened to him you would be killing everyone in this bunker and then yourself. Rosa Diaz has it right.

“Alright, pass me that chair.” As soon as you come to a stop in the corner of the room, you instruct the young Nephilim following you. Without question, he does as you say and retrieves the chair sitting against the wall by a shelf loaded with obscure occult ‘weapons’. The armory is always something that amazes and confuses you with its contents.

The chair drags with a light squeak across concrete floor as you position it where you need it, wasting no time in hiking a leg up and climbing onto the seat. You know what you’re doing, but Jack doesn’t and your sudden movement must startle him a little because you feel him grip your legs by your knees and exclaim loudly.

“Ah, y/n! Be careful!”

You look down at him, unable to help the trickle of fondness that curls into your smile.

“Thanks for spotting me, Jack—don’t worry though, I’m a professional. I do this often.” You lean down to pat his hand and after giving you a slightly concerned look, he slowly releases his supporting grip.

“It’s up here,” you continue, before he gets too distracted. Your hands reach for the grate of the vent that sits high on the wall, almost touching the corner and the ceiling. It’s only around medium size, big enough for you to fit most body parts in but definitely not your body as a whole. It’s only really tacked in, the screws barely securing the metal to the wall. It takes almost no effort to remove it and pass it down to Jack to hold.

“Behold, sweet boy,” you say with a certain air of grandeur and flair, “My personal stash of sweets and goodies.”

Whatever was left of Jack’s concerned look from earlier is quickly wiped clean off his face to make room for the excitement that rises at your words. His brows unfurrow, shooting high as he attempts to peer into the vent.

“You have a stash of sweets?” He asks, almost in awe. “How did you build it so quickly? Haven’t you only been here a little over a week?”

“I’ve had this here for years,” you say, pretending that your words don’t make you cringe a little. Some of the stuff in there… might be a little out-of-date. “Say, you ever tried a kinder surprise? Or a Bueno bar? Or Tim Tams?”

Jack shakes his head, still clutching the grate in his hands. “Are they very good?”

“Very good?!” you echo, letting out a noise that even to your ears sounds a little crazy. “Dude, they’re amazing. Delicious. Fantastic. They’ll change your life.”

With each word that escapes your mouth, you sell Jack a little more on the idea. He’s almost vibrating on the spot by the time you’re done, hands fidgeting as he bounces on the balls of his feet every few seconds. “Do you have some, y/n? May… may I try some?”

“Of course, Jack— mi casa es su casa. Except, this is more of a top-secret stash than a house. Gimme a sec, I’ll fish some out for you.”

You turn then, careful not to wobble the chair, and go on your tippy-toes to reach your arm into the vent, the other bracing you against the wall. A part of you was worried after hearing Sam’s account of what happened to his own stash of sweets, but to your complete and utter relief there is still a hefty pile sitting half a foot back from the opening of the vent. You dig around a bit, searching for an egg shape or even a bar. The chocolates you mentioned to him should be safe, since you’d only added them somewhat recently. No risk of poisoning the half-angel today!

“Damn it, where are those stupid eggs,” you mutter to yourself as you search the pile, almost grasping something you think might be what you’re looking for only for it to slip away from your fingertips. You let out a huff, but freeze a moment later in delight as you grab a handful of something familiar. Your arm retracts before you can lose it again in your pile.

“Alright, here we a—woAH JESUS! Oh my god!”

As you’d turned around, expecting to see Jack standing in anticipation by the side of the chair, your eyes caught on something that most definitely wasn’t there before. In the split-second it takes for you to recognise the figure leaning against the shelf of weapons, you get so badly startled that before you know it your balance is compromised and you’re teetering on the verge of falling off the chair.

“y/n!” Jack exclaims in worry, lurching forward to grab your legs and stabilise you again. “Are you okay?”

“G-Gabriel,” you manage to choke out around the heart that leapt into your throat from the fright of nearly falling, looking over the nephilim’s shoulder. “Hello, didn’t—didn’t see you there. Holy shit.”

His face is somewhat blank, but if you look closer you swear you can see a hint of amusement cross his features. He is still in the rags and still somewhat dirty, since he won’t let anyone come near him and he still hasn’t got enough juice to clean himself. It makes something in your chest twinge but you refuse to give it the mental screentime it demands.

“Oh, Uncle Gabriel,” Jack turns and greets, pleasantly surprised to see his uncle out and about. Nowhere near as surprised as you, however, who honestly didn’t think Gabriel would be leaving his room for a few weeks at least. “I am glad to see you are well enough to walk about. What brings you here?”

As expected, Gabriel says nothing—his eyes do, however, betray him when they flit in a squirrely manner from Jack to the overflowing handful of chocolates you have in your hand.

“You came for the sweets?” you query, brows drawing together in confusion. “But how did you—”

You stop yourself mid-sentence, realisation washing over you. “Ah… the vents. You probably heard us.”

Not a word, but the archangel does shrug slightly, gaze flitting away, and you know you must be correct. Jack turns his head back to you, expression confused but mixed in with something else—does he want you to do something? You catch on quickly to the imploring glint in his eyes.

“Here, there’s more than enough—Jack, take one of each and then pass the rest to Gabriel. And if either of you hear Dean, tell me or else this hiding spot will be compromised. If Dean finds out I have a stash of chocolate, it’s game over.”

Jack, as he had done before, nods seriously and carefully takes the handful of chocolates from you. He picks out one of each and places it on the chair by your feet, before tentatively passing the rest to Gabriel.

You hadn’t been sure whether he was actually going to take the sweets or not, but to your surprise he does. With hands that shake ever so slightly, he moves the wrapped goodies from his nephew’s hands to his own, offering the briefest smile to the two of you. And then he is bringing his hands to his chest and turning, making his exit from the room at a pace that is somewhere between hasty and cautious. By the time of your next blink, he is gone and you’re left reeling at the experience.

“I’m not going crazy, right?” you turn your gaze down to Jack, continuing when he meets your eyes. “Gabriel was just here?”

“He was,” Jack confirms, simultaneously relieving and confusing you. “He wanted some sweets, I think.”

“Huh,” you say, because you can’t think of anything else. After a moment, you blink yourself out of your thoughts and return to the original reason you’d brought the young man here.

“Anyway, go ahead and try those! Tell me which one you like most, and I’ll get more out for you.”

Jack doesn’t need to be told twice; he’s diving for the sweets he’d stored on the chair and tearing into the first one he can get his hands on before you’re even finished talking. Within split-seconds he has it in his mouth and he’s giving you a wide-eyed look.

“y/n, this is so good!”

He is definitely not wrong. Smiling, you reach up and attempt to retrieve more of the one in his hand to restock him.

“I know right?! Just wait until you try the other ones.”

x x

You’d thought it earlier, but it becomes more apparent now that just as you’d figured, something had changed in Gabriel the other day.

Now, don’t get it wrong—he is still quiet and refuses to speak most of the time, and most of his day is spent within the confines of his room, but lately… he’s begun to sneak out a bit more.

Well, sneak maybe has a little bit of a negative connotation. He’s allowed to be out of his room, of course. It’s just that he’s so quiet and quick that sneaking is the only fitting term you can think of for the way he slinks silently through the bunker.

The idle thought crossed your mind at some point that maybe he just wants to be a part of it all, even for a brief moment, and even if it just means he hovers on the outskirts of the room instead of actually joining in.

Sometimes you’ll come out in the morning and find him curled on one of the plush chairs in the library, hidden behind one of the bookshelves. Other times he might wander into a room when the occupants are in the middle of something, whether that be researching, playing a game, watching something, or even arguing. Actually, he probably shows up most often for the latter. Stirring the pot was his specialty back when, and it seems a pot ready to bubble over is something he is naturally drawn back to as he starts to feel a little more like himself.

Most of the times you've spotted him at the periphery of the room, it's been bickering that has, admittedly, more often than not started at your hands. It’s not your fault! For two brother’s who have literally survived several almost-apocalypses, the Winchesters are awfully easy to tease. Sometimes you give Jack or Mary a few proverbial pokes, but you don’t really have the heart to follow through for very long. The guilt you feel when you rile up Sam and Dean is minimal, but when you start to stir up anyone else in the bunker you feel guilty after about five seconds of it.

Today’s victim is, as often happens to be the case, Dean. Sometimes you seek him out if you’re in a particularly bastardous mood, but today he happened to walk in front of your crosshairs of his own accord. Wrong place, wrong time.

“I’m just saying,” you struggle to keep a straight face as you speak. You can see the red beginning to colour the tips of Dean’s ears and know that you’re getting to him, as much as he is trying not to let it show. “The bacon that you used for that burger… I think it was the one that was out of date.”

“No way,” Dean denies immediately. “I checked the dates, this was from the good packet.”

“Where was it?” you ask him, raising a brow and crossing your arms. He stills for a moment as he attempts to recall which portion of the fridge the bacon was residing in.

“Left side, towards the front.” He finally informs you, looking proud of himself. You lean back in your chair, wincing at him.

“Dude… that was the out-of-date one.” You shake your head, giving him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry to tell you, but you’re gonna be super sick later.”

Now, the thing about this argument is that there was no out-of-date bacon that he could have used. You threw it out the other day. But, he doesn’t know that. And if you can convince him that the burger he is more than halfway through was made with funky meat, then you bet his reaction is gonna be really funny.

Dean throws an accusing finger in your direction, scowling. His ears tinge a little more red. “Stop gaslighting me, twinkletoes! I know which bacon I used!”

“Yeah,” you say, gesturing vaguely. “The out-of-date one.”

Dean doesn’t believe you, of course, but you do catch him giving the burger in his hold a cursory glance. He huffs a breath out of his nose.

“If it’s out of date, then why does it still taste so good?” Dean says, with all the gusto of someone who’d just said something worthy of a mic drop. His free hand even moves to his hip, and one of his brows raises at you while his lips purse.

You shrug, resting your legs on the corner of the table and crossing one over the other. The corner stabs into you when you slip slightly and prompts a readjustment. “I don’t know, man. You eat a lot of shit so it could just be that you’re accustomed to funky-tasting food.”

For a moment he appears like he wants to refute what you said, but he seems to think better of it as he, presumably, recalls the meals he’d had as of late. His lips are still pursed as he stares at you for a second with narrowed eyes, the cogs visibly turning in his head.

“You know what,” he begins, sounding a little testy. You pause for a moment, though, as you detect something else in his tone. “Why don’t we bet on it if you’re so sure? Loser has to do the other’s chores for a week.”

“Deal,” you say immediately, without even entertaining the possibility of losing. You presume that he’s just going to judge this on whether or not he gets food poisoning later (which you can easily interfere with; there are a number of things in the bunker that are good for upsetting a stomach), and aren’t too worried. That changes in the next second when you see him turn and make his way to the bin where the bacon packaging no doubt resides. You scramble into a sitting position, dread already creeping into your bones as you realise you’re about to be found out. Damn it, you already hate the chores you have when you’re here, you don’t want to do Dean’s as well!

You make a face as he finally reaches the bin, reaching in to procure the packaging from the top.

“HAH, see! Best by—”

You blink as he halts suddenly in his reading, the red fading from his ears and making way for a green hue to wash over his face.

“Oh. Oh god.” He says, much softer than his earlier proclamation. He drops the packaging back in the bin, and the remains of his burger follow suit in the next heartbeat. He straightens, but doesn’t meet your eyes.

One of his hands comes to place over his stomach, his features twisting. “I’ll… be right back.”

And then he is using his long legs to his advantage and striding out of the room faster than you can comment. You’re left there reeling, alone in the kitchen.

“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself, confused beyond belief. By all means, he should have read a date that was still safe. Unless you threw out the wrong bacon. But you’d been sure to check which you were throwing out when you did it, so there’s no way—

Your frantic inner monologue is cut off by the soft sound of shuffling on the outskirts of the room. You turn to investigate, and to your surprise catch sight of Gabriel quietly slinking to the door from the corner of the kitchen. He pauses like he feels the weight of your gaze on him, and turns to face you just slightly.

You’re too surprised to even say anything in greeting, and that proves to be the case especially in the next moment when the archangel offers you a brief wink and then turns back the way he is facing, disappearing from the kitchen and leaving you truly alone this time.

It takes a second for the dots to connect in your head, but when they do you can’t help the surprised laugh that leaps from you.

Gabriel had just saved your ass from doing extra chores for a week.

You’d have to slip him some of your stash as a thanks.

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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docholligay · 4 years

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PHARAH TRACER BODY SWAP FREAKY FRIDAY STYLE

I’m going to move on from this since I know some people want SM stuff and I’m already to 2600 words on this but I am having a GREAT time and please let me know if you want me to continue this!

Lena Oxton was used to having an unusual life. She had been the world’s top fighter pilot, she had seen herself as a child, not knowing it meant, she was a medical miracle who by all theories and standards shouldn’t have been able to be sitting there next to Pharah when it happened. No, she was very used to life being just a little strange, just a little off-key, and mostly, she appreciated that she would never be bored, or boring.

None of which truly prepared her for waking up on a hardwood floor, twenty centimeters taller.

“Bloody…” she rolled over, her head pounding, and looked over to her right.

Her body was lying there, next to her. Her eyes widened, and her heart leapt into her throat, the tight panic of knowing that it had happened again, oh no, it had happened again, and she was out of time, and her whole body began to tremble as she thought of the pain of it–she couldn’t do it again, she’d die, it had nearly killed her the last time–but there was no cold at all. No pain. Just a strange tingling at her shoulder, which was offputting, but not painful. This wasn’t being lost in time at all.

She was so surprised for a moment, that she forgot to be afraid, and sat up.

“Am I dead?” Her voice echoed off the walls, but it was wrong, it was deep and rich and nice enough, but it wasn’t hers, was it?

Her body began to moan next to her, and pinched its fingers at the bridge of its nose.

Tracer looked at herself. “Uh..you alright…me?”

Her body mumbled something in Arabic.

Tracer looked down at her hands, one metal, a gold ring welded to it, and one so much darker than she’d fallen unconscious with. Her hands, or at least, the ones she was currently processing, flew to her hair, a small low ponytail fixed to the back of her head, a gold bead wrapped around a strand. She looked back to her body, and crawled over next to it.

“Fareeha?”

Her body’s eyes opened, and blinked a few times. “Nothing, I only must have…” Pharah’s bright brown eyes looked into Tracer’s dark ones, “Ahhh!”

Tracer yelled back, and jumped away from Pharah, who was also Tracer, trying to twist her arm behind her and finding that the body she was inhabiting wasn’t quite as flexible as her own, and she fell back to the ground for a moment.

Pharah rolled to the side, and made to grab the knife from her pants, only to discover that there was no cargo pocket at all. She took in the scene for a moment, and sat back on her heels. Her body folded easily in the position Pharah had stretched herself for so many times. It was painless. Easy. She looked down at her chest, at the blue light there. ANd then glowered back at Tracer.

“What did you do?”

“Right,” Tracer said, laughing, “I’s like, God but I’d love to steal Fareeha’s body, and me with all me science knowledge, be nothing but a bit of a lark to do, just going to take me–”

“I did not mean,” Pharah growled, in a voice that was much too high to bring across the frustration she felt, “That you meant to.”

Tracer slowly stood up, a little dizzy from the strangeness of her body. She reached out a hand to the desk, feeling at it with the hand Winston had created. It felt mechanical, in a way she struggled to describe even to herself, like the information was being delivered, and was simply that. She touched the hand back to her chest. She didn’t care for the sensation.

Pharah rose to her feet. “You have to be used to it.”

Tracer walked over to the tiny closet, so much more quickly than she was accustomed, and opened the door, looking at the small mirror inside it. She felt at her face, tracing the tattoo below her eye, the sharp carved edges of her chin and her nose, her commanding jawline.

“I’m you.” She said, the mystery and strangeness in it permeating the space.

“No,” Pharah pulled at the sweater on her body, “you are in my body.”

Tracer whirled around and looked down at Pharah, which Pharah disliked immediately.

“Bloody ‘ell Fareeha, you know exactly what it is I meant, no need to get so specific over it.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, both of them attempting to wrangle with the strangeness of the situation, both of them wondering how this could possibly have happened, and if it had been borne of ill intention, or a mistake, or just one of those things that seemed to befall only those who live storied lives. Neither of them came up with much. The day had begun like any other, right up until a blinding headache and a dash into the darkness.

Tracer sat cross-legged on her desk, pulling her legs into position. “Well,” she said, chin in her hands, “Now what?”

Pharah sat down in her chair, immediately noted the desk was too high for her to comfortably type, and and pressed her lips together in annoyance, eyes closed. There was no protocol for this, no answer she knew. As far as she was aware, there was no precedent for this sort of thing, no case study or treatment Mercy could even consider.

But it would have to be Mercy, because there was no better option.

“We will ask Angela.” Pharah nodded her head, determined.

“Mmmm,” Tracer was looking at her own body more closely now, pulling up her sleeve to look at the muscles there, “Fareeha, do you ever eat a carb? Drink a beer? I’m plenty strong meself and that’s the truth, but it takes a good deal more deprivation than I care for to get this sort of definition, and–”

“Tracer! Pay attention!”

Tracer looked at her, and scowled. “Well,” she slowly dismounted from the desk, “We’ll ask Ang later, as I’m off to actually use these looks. You never bloody ‘ave, and someone ought to–”

Pharah leapt to her feet. “Are you saying you will make me cheat on my wife?”

Tracer giggled. “I’m not you, just in your body, right?”

Fareeha Amari considered herself a patient person, most of the time, and over the years, she had found a particular level of patience with Tracer, who she even, sometimes, could admit to herself, although never anyone else, she quite loved, and found charming in her own way. But Tracer knew how to needle her, and sometimes simply did it as her own sort of stress response, and Pharah was in no mood.

Well, she thought, Tracer is an excellent fighter, and I have always been curious what fighting as her might be like.

With that thought, she exploded toward her own body. But old habits die hard, and she went to throw Tracer into the wall, forgetting that she was much smaller than Tracer now, until Tracer grabbed her by the collar and tossed her back across the room. But Tracer herself was locked in her ways, and as Pharah came back for another round, Tracer tripped over herself–her balance was not nearly as keen or even as it had been–and she was staggered to find that jumping up out of the way was a near impossibility with all the stone she’d gained in the last half hour.

Whatever they had imagined fighting as the other might look like, and well they might manage a body with strengths they could not possibly know, it ended up looking quite a bit more like two toddlers on the playground. Pharah could feel that her body was one firm muscle, but she did not know how to use it, still throwing punches that could not possibly land with the force she wanted, lacking any knowledge in how to use speed and momentum. Tracer was ready for the sheer power of Pharah’s body, but not the slow planning it required to use it, born a creature of impulse and quickness. She was a hummingbird in the body of an eagle, and just as awkward.

Then Pharah tried to blink.

She had seen Tracer do it a hundred times before, even in this casual CA where she wasn’t supposed to be able to at all. It was a small advantage–half a second perhaps, maybe one in an outside chance–but it was still there, and she had used it to best Pharah on a handful of occasions. Perhaps in a wiser moment, Pharah would have recognized that knowing it could be done and knowing how to do something were cousins, but not twins, and so she should ask and practice, and be sure of herself. She was so often careful, and wise in this way. But she was frustrated, and she was angry, and she knew it was a great tactical advantage, and so, she thought about where she wanted to be, and tried to move there.

She fell to the ground immediately, not by any force of Tracer’s, who was still figuring out how to aim with the cannon that was her new body, but with a fierce contraction that went through her whole being, something that reached into her brain and fired, and she gasped with the pain of it. She crumpled to the ground, her stomach turning, heart pounding, barely able to breathe.

She heard her own voice in Tracer’s patter, and hand rubbing her back as the haze cleared. “It’ll pass love, I promise, it’ll pass. Just a moment, is all. Shouldn’t ‘ave tried it, ‘arder than it looks, in this kit, but it’ll pass.”

Pharah looked at her. “Does that happen often?”

“Nah,” Tracer smiled and shook her head, “But I do remember it. Not any fun at all. Deep breath, love, come on then.”

She helped Pharah sit up and lean against the wall. Pharah had often wondered, what it was like living in Tracer’s body, if it caused her pain, and had always thought it would be too rude to ask. Tracer avoided speaking about anything that teetered on the medical, and had expressed multiple times that while they could do what they liked if she was killed, during her lifetime she had no interest in being a scientific subject.

Pharah had not known how to make it clear she was asking as a concerned friend, and so had never asked at all.

But now she had Tracer’s body in hand, and so she felt justified to ask a short question. “Is it like that when it works?”

“Oh no, oh no,” Tracer sat beside her, “bit of nausea, sometimes, but nothing like that, love. That’s only when I don’t manage it,” she laughed, “beside all that, we’ll go to Ang, and she’ll fix us up, and so it won’t be your worry at all.”

The phone on the other end of the room went off, and Tracer reached into Pharah’s pocket and pulled out three candy wrappers and a small, blue, three sectioned box with a cheerful cartoon frog on it. She popped open the middle compartment, and handed a small yellow pill to Pharah.

“Do take this though, and I’ll thank you later when I’m back in me own body.”

She handed Pharah a glass of water, and Pharah did what she was told, the dizziness and pain beginning to subside.

“Sorry, Fareeha.” She sat next to her. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Pushed you a bit far.”

“You were only playing,” she sighed, “I…am anxious, to solve this.”

“Well,” Tracer shoved herself against the wall and stood up, “Let’s go find Ang.”

_________

Mercy was pleased with the quality of her life, since they’d moved to London. There was a temple she liked, not too far from their brand new apartment, and a pastry shop down the road, and she enjoyed sitting out on their tiny little plot of cement and reading a book in the inconsistent sunshine. Maybe they could stay, she thought. Maybe she could stop living her life as a tumbleweed, and find a place to settle, with her Pharah, and be still and happy.

It seemed more and more possible every day. Pharah complained, but she mostly did it in that way where nothing in life was perfection, or as organized as it might be, and she had long since given up the idea of moving back to Cairo, ever since a beach vacation in Spain had resulted in Mercy nearly getting heatstroke. Pharah would never want to be in a place where Mercy was unhappy, because, she had said, in that sweet and tender way Pharah herself never recognized as tenderness, then Pharah would be unhappy. They had kicked around Zurich, but Mercy never missed Switzerland, it was simply a place she had been born, and where her childhood had died. She had liked Boston, she hadn’t cared for Alberta, but London seemed like it could be home, if Mercy was ever allowed such a thing.

She was thinking on all of this, gazing out the window at the clear, humid day, when she heard the door open, and the familiar clunk of Pharah’s boots on the floor. She wasn’t normally home this early, but Mercy’s heart leapt at the thought that maybe she had finished with work, and since Mercy had finished with hers, they could go have lunch together at one of the little restaurants nearby. There was such a cute patio at the little brasserie, and Mercy had been wanting to try it–Pharah usually indulged her with a smile–so the timing seemed nearly perfect.

“Angela,” Pharah’s voice rang out into the kitchen, “I was so much hoping you would be here, I was wondering.”

Mercy’s body tensed. It was all wrong. Everything was wrong. She knew Pharah, knew her like she knew few people on this earth, and this was not her Pharah. Her voice was wrong, her movements were wrong, this imposter knew Pharah so little that her boots were still on, on the floor Pharah had waxed only yesterday. She was trapped here, with something pretending to be Pharah, and her phone was at the other end of the room.

The creature grinned at her, too wide and too bright.

Mercy grabbed for a knife from the block, eyes wide, and faced back at the thing. She would fight. She may lose, but she would fight hard.

“You are not my Fareeha.” She growled, as frighteningly as she could.

“Ang! Ang!” The monster put its hands up. “It’s me! It’s Lena! Fuck’s sake, love, just thought it would be a bit of fun.”

It was Pharah’s voice, but it was Tracer’s, too, and Mercy set the knife down, confused. Tracer came through the door, looked at Mercy with with great concern, and then glared at the strange Tracer-voiced Pharah.

“It was a terrible idea, which I told you it would be.”

Pharah! Mercy sighed relief, just for one moment, before the horror of the moment set in, as she stared across her small kitchen. There was Pharah. Same warm, dark eyes that Mercy always lost herself in, same wide shoulders, same soft mouth. But she was altogether different, too, her eyes darting around, looking this way and that, as if trying to take all of life in by snippets. She hadn’t stopped moving since she came into the room, fiddling with her hair, rocking up on her toes. And Tracer, too, was right, and wrong. A smattering of freckles, chestnut hair, chirp of a voice. But still, and solid, hair combed down and neat.

But this was impossible.

#sailorsunspot #HON HON HON

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