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winchesterwild78 · 20 days

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Unexpected Hunter

Chapter Warnings: fear, injury, death, weapons, some fluff, mention of stalking,

18+ Minors DNI

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You didn’t plan to be a hunter. Hell you didn’t even know this life existed until a few years ago. You were in the park on an unseasonably warm day in February when you were attacked. You woke up 3 days later in the hospital with bandages all over, pain coursing through your body and 2 very handsome FBI agents waiting to speak to you. The taller one noticed you were awake and approached your bed. He was tall, had long hair and kind eyes. The shorter one, even though he was tall, had short dirty blonde hair and piercing green eyes. “Good afternoon, Miss y/l/n I’m Agent Smith and this is my partner Agent Smith, no relation. We’d like to ask you some questions about your attack if you’re up for it.

You positioned yourself up and said “yeah of course. I don’t remember much, but I’ll help with what I can.” You told them you were in the park for a few hours sitting on the bench and then you got up to leave. As you walked past a section of trees you felt strong arms grab you and pull you into the tree line. You remember trying to scream but something was covering your mouth. The next thing you remember is a growl that sent chills down your spine and a set of razor sharp teeth bending down to bite your neck. “I’m sorry I don’t remember what happened next. I must have passed out.” You said as tears pricked your eyes. That’s when you noticed the shorter man hadn’t taken his eyes off you. You made eye contact with him and you didn’t look away. The tall man cleared his throat and placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay Miss Y/L/N, we are going to do everything possible to help solve this. Do you recall if you were bitten?” “I don’t think so you” said with wide eyes. “Here’s our card if you think of anything else or need anything.” He said. “Y/n, please call me y/n” you whispered. The other agent stepped forward and for the first time he spoke “y/n, if you need anything even if it’s just to talk please call me.” He said stepping closer to you. You looked up meeting his green eyes and you noticed they looked softer than before.

“Thank you agents. I will” you said taking the card and watching them as they walked out.

“Dean I’m gonna head to the morgue to check on the other bodies.” Sam said as he walked down the hallway. That’s when he noticed Dean standing just staring at your hospital room door. “Dean, did you hear me?” Sam said stepping closer to his brother. “Huh, what. Oh yeah. That’s fine. I’m going back to the scene to see if I can figure this out. I think we are dealing with a werewolf.” Dean said as he walked away.

You sat on your hospital bed trying to remember what happened. A nurse came in to check on you and you asked about your wounds. “It seems like you put up a heck of a fight. Most of the wounds are defensive and not too deep. You’ve got a broken rib and bruising from the punches, but girl I’d hate to see the other person. You hit your head on a rock trying to get away so you’re going to have a headache for a few days. You should be able to go home tomorrow since you’re awake.” She said with a soft smile. “Thank you. I’m ready to go home” you said smiling back. “Get some rest and I’ll bring you some food soon. If you need anything just push the call button.” She said as she walked out.

You grabbed a paper you found on the stand beside the bed and a pen. You started to draw the person who attacked you. Maybe this would help the FBI. You sat drawing and when you stopped you looked at what you drew. A soft gasp left your lips at what you saw on the paper. What started out as a good intention turned into something that took your breath away. Staring back at you from the paper wasn’t what attacked you, it was the green eyed FBI agent. “What in the world y/n. Why did you draw him.” You whispered to yourself as you kept staring at the paper. Pulling you from your thoughts was a soft knock on the door. In walked the green eyed agent. You quickly turned the paper over not wanting him to see it. “Hello y/n, how are you feeling?” He asked as he crossed the room. “I’m good. I have a headache and I’m sore, but they say I might get to bust out of here tomorrow” You said with a smile. “How are you agent? Did you find anything out about my attacker” you asked him. “I’m good and not yet. I did however find this at the scene and wanted to know if it was yours.” He asked holding up a locket on a broken gold chain. “Oh my goodness. Yes, that was my mother’s. Thank you so much for finding it.” You said with tears in your eyes. You took it from him and as your hand brushed against his electricity shot through your body. A single tear slipped down your face as you looked at the locket. It’s been about 10 years since your mother died and you’ve worn her locket ever since. Without thinking Dean thumbed away the tear. Your eyes met and you whispered “thank you” again. Dean nodded and stepped back. He sat in the chair next to your bed. There was a silence that filled the room as you opened the locket looking at your mother’s picture. You were so thankful he found it. “Um Agent Smith, can I ask what’s your name” you asked softly. “My name is Dean” he said looking over at you. “Dean, thank you again for finding this. It’s my most prized possession.” You said reaching out for his hand. “You’re welcome sweetheart” he said.

The silence was broken by his phone ringing. “Hello. Yeah I’m in y/n’s room. I found something at the scene and wanted to see if it was hers. Yep, see you soon.” He said then hung up. “That was my partner we think we have a lead so I need to leave and follow up on it.” He said to you. “Oh yeah, of course. Please be careful.” You said without thinking. He nodded and smiled as he walked out the door. “Dean” you whispered to yourself. The nurse came in a few minutes later with some food and asked if you needed anything. “Do you think you could get me some paper or a notebook. I want to see if I can draw some memories from the attack” you said. “Oh of course I can. I’ll be back in a minute” she said as she left the room. A few minutes later she brought you a spiral notebook, pencils and pens. “Thank you” you said as you opened it to the first page.

You ate your food and then started drawing. Anything you could remember from the day of the attack. You closed your eyes and just let your mind drift back to the day. You don’t know how long you had been drawing but soon you had several pages filled with images. The last image took your breath away. It was him, the guy who attacked you. You realized you had seen him before the attack. He had been around your job, at some of the stores you had frequented. That’s when it hit you. This guy was your bosses son. Your breath caught in your throat and you picked up the phone. You called Dean hoping he would answer. “Hello, this is Agent Smith” you heard him say. “Dean it’s y/n. I know who attacked me. It’s my bosses son. I was drawing and it came to me. He had asked me out several times and I turned him down because something felt off. He’s been stalking me. Showing up at different places I’m at. Please Dean, I’m so scared. What if he comes here.” You said without taking a breath. “Calm down sweetheart, we are on our way.”

He hung up and threw the car in reverse. “Y/n knows her attacker. We’re going back to the hospital Sammy. I can’t lose her” Dean said without hesitation. “Dean, we aren’t going to lose her. She’s safe at the hospital and she’s tougher than she looks.” Sam said looking at his brother. He knew Dean had developed feelings for her already. “I can’t explain it Sammy, I need to protect her. From the moment I saw her that need became primal.” Dean said as he gripped the steering wheel and sped towards the hospital. “I know big brother, I know” Sam said resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

They pulled into the parking lot and Dean took off towards your room. Sam was not far behind him. As they approached the door Dean stopped and tried to compose himself. He knocked and opened the door. The minute you saw him tears streamed down your face and he wrapped you in a hug. He kissed the top of your head and ran his hands on your back. “Shhh it’s okay sweetheart. You’re safe. Sammy and I won’t let anyone hurt you” Dean said as he pulled you tight. Your notebook and paper dropped to the floor. Sam picked them up and looked at them. He smiled when he saw the picture you drew of Dean. He showed Dean the pictures you drew but left that one out. Sam called the local police to tell them you remembered your attacker. They went to arrest him but he got away. He knew you had remembered and he was going to find you and make you pay.

Dean stayed with you at the hospital and when it was time to be discharged he insisted you stay with them at their hotel. “No, Dean. I need to go home. I have all my stuff there and my dog. My neighbor has been taking care of her but I can’t just abandon her. If you’re that worried you come stay with me” you said as you pulled on your shoes. “If you’re sure. I can crash on the couch and Sam can crash on the floor.” He said while helping you up. “Nonsense, I have a guest room and the couch pulls out to a bed. Y’all can figure out who gets what. I just want to go home, shower and change.” You said as you both walked to the elevator. You climbed into his gorgeous car as he walked around to the driver’s seat. You both chatted on the drive, nothing too personal. Just some small talk. As he pulled in your driveway your beautiful light brown terrier mix came bounding out of the house. You dropped to your knees “Lexi” you said as the dog started jumping and smothering you in kisses. You laughed as she knocked you over. Dean laughed and bent down helping you up. Lexi came over and started jumping and licking Dean. “I’ve never seen her warm up instantly to someone” you said. He smiled and petted her head as you two walked to your house.

You walked in the house and thanked your neighbor for her help. She hugged you, looked at Dean and smiled. Once she left you closed and locked the door.

You showed Dean around and told him he was welcome to stay in the guest room if he wanted to. “Make yourself at home, I’m going to go take a shower and get this hospital smell off me. There is food and drinks in the fridge. Help yourself to whatever. I think there are a few beers in there if you’re off duty and can drink.” You said as you walked towards your room. You went in your bedroom and closed the door. You leaned against the door thinking about Dean. “Get yourself together girl. He’s going to be leaving soon. Don’t get attached.” You said to yourself. You got your stuff together and walked into your bathroom starting the shower.

Dean heard the water running and walked in the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and saw his favorite beer in the door and smiled. He grabbed one, popped the top off and sat on the couch. Lexi jumped up next to him and put her head on his lap. He petted her head and drank his beer. As he sat there his mind wandered to thoughts of you. Your smile, laugh, soft lips and your beautiful y/c eyes. He smiled at the thought of you. “Damn Dean, snap out of it. You’re leaving in a few days and you can’t be in a relationship with her.” He thought to himself. Sam called and told him he was a few minutes away and had their belongings from the hotel. When Dean saw Sam pull up in a cab he opened the door and helped him bring in their bags. After they came back inside Dean showed Sam around. Sam said he’d take the couch and set his stuff in the corner. “So where is y/n at?” Sam asked. “Shower” was all Dean said. The brothers were sitting in the living room when you came out. You saw Sam had arrived and you greeted him. He stood up and walked up to you asking how you were feeling. “I’m okay. I just want to feel safe again and I won’t completely until he’s caught. Thank you guys for coming here and staying. The idea of leaving Lexi broke my heart.” “No problem y/n my brother and I will keep you safe.” Dean’s eyes went big and you shot your head around. “Your brother?!?! You asked looking between the two of them. “I thought you were partners.” “Way to go Sammy” Dean said with a grumble. He saw the panic in your eyes. Sam shook his head. “Sorry y/n I thought Dean told you” he said looking a little sad. “No he didn’t. So are you really FBI” you asked with your voice catching in your throat.

They both shook their head no. You stood there for a minute before taking a seat. Panic started to creep up in your chest. You looked between the brothers with tears in your eyes. “I need you to tell me the truth because I’m about to kick you out of my house” you said looking directly at Dean. That’s when Dean explained everything about hunting, monsters and the family business. He also told you that you were attacked by a werewolf and damn lucky to be alive. “He must want you for another reason. Otherwise you’d be dead.” Dean said very bluntly. You shot him a look and Sam slapped his arm. “Way to soften the blow Dean. Damn scare her even more.”

You stood up, causing both men to stand. They towered over you. You didn’t lift your head up you just softly said “um, I need a minute” and walked to your room. You shut the door and leaned against it. You felt your legs give out as you collapsed to the floor. Sobs overwhelmed your body and your tears soaked your face. You felt so alone and so scared. What did this monster want with you if he didn’t want you dead. Then you realized he wanted YOU. To make you like he was, a monster. You felt sick. You ran to your bathroom and fell in front of the toilet throwing up what little you had in your stomach. Sobbing and vomiting over the toilet you felt a hand grab your hair and hold it back. A quiet shushing sound from behind you. “Dean” was the only thought in your head. Once you stopped getting sick you sat back against the tub. Dean grabbed a washcloth and ran cold water on it. He put it on the back of your neck helping calm you down.

“Thank you” was all you managed to whisper out. He sat on the floor in front of you and grabbed your hands. You slowly looked up at him and saw his green eyes soften. You wanted to look away but something stopped you. “Hey, I’m sorry sweetheart. Sometimes my mouth runs before my brain does. I never meant to upset you.” Silent tears fell from your eyes. You had no words or the strength to speak. You just sat there in the bathroom floor with Dean and cried. He pulled you into his arms and held you tight. You could smell him and he smelt like home. He smelled of a mixture of leather, wood, beer and mint. You inhaled deeply and with every breath you relaxed into him.

He placed a soft kiss on your head and you looked up. “Was that okay” he asked. You nodded yes. He swept your hair out of your face and kissed your forehead. You smiled slightly. You both stared at each other and he started to lean in and you stopped him. “Dean as much as I’d like to kiss you I did just get sick. Let me brush my teeth first” you said as you started to get off the floor. He helped you up and let you clean up. When you came out of your bathroom he was standing leaning against the wall. He didn’t give you time to say anything he crossed the room, cupped your face and kissed you. You melted into his kiss. His lips were soft and you felt his tongue swipe your lips asking for entry. You opened your mouth and he deepened the kiss. Your body felt like it was on fire. This man looked like a Greek God and could kiss like one too. You moaned into his mouth and he smiled. He pulled away and took a breath. “You okay y/n” he asked breathlessly. “Yes, Dean I’m okay.” You said looking at him.

As he was pulling you closer Sam yelled from the living room. “Dean, y/n get out here quick.” You could hear the slight panic in his voice and you instantly froze. Dean grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the room saying “I’ve got you sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe.” You swallowed your fear a little and held tightly to his hand. “What’s wrong Sammy?” Dean asked as we walked in the room. “I think we have company” Sam said nodding towards the front door. Dean whispered for you to stay put and he walked toward the window. He saw 2 men on the front porch and they were talking low. “Looks like she’s got company” one of them said. “Yeah I can smell them out here. They better not have touched my girl.” The one closest to the door said. Sam and Dean used hand gestures to talk and Sam grabbed your hand and pulled you to your bathroom. “Y/n stay in here. Lock the door and no matter what don’t open the door. You’ll be safe in here without windows. Here take this. It has silver bullets in it. Shoot whatever comes through this door. I mean it y/n. Whatever comes through.” All you could do is shake your head in acknowledgment. Sam shut the door and you locked it.

The next thing you knew you heard Sam and Dean yelling and there was growling. It sounded like your house was being torn apart. Banging and crashing is all you heard for a few minutes. Followed by muffled shouting. Then you heard gunshots and thuds. Your heart stopped and you listened. The gun Sam gave you aimed at the door. You heard your bedroom door open and footsteps come towards the bathroom. You held your breath. There was a knock and you heard Dean. “Hey sweetheart, you can open the door. It’s safe now.” You stood there for a minute still aiming the gun at the door. “Dean is that really you” you said so low even you couldn’t believe it was your voice. “Yeah darlin it’s me.” He said.

You opened the door and found Dean covered in cuts and blood. Some of which you’re sure wasn’t his. He grabbed the gun from you and put the safety on. You stood there trembling. Dean wrapped his arms around you and just held you. “It’s okay baby. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. Take a deep breath” he said holding you tight. He walked you out into the living room and you looked around. Your house was a wreck and so much was broken. Then you saw boots at the end of the couch. You walked over and saw your bosses son laying lifeless on the floor. You gasped. Sam came over and put his arm around you. “It’s okay y/n he was a monster. If we hadn’t been here he would have hurt you.” He said giving you a big hug.

Once everything was settled with the local police Dean and Sam told you they wanted you to come move in with them. They described the bunker and told you there was plenty of room for you and Lexi. You were sure you didn’t have a job anymore and your landlord was going to be pissed the house was destroyed. So you decided to go with them. They both saved your life and Sam was like a brother to you, Dean was something else. You desperately wanted more with him but you weren’t going to push it. So you grabbed what you could carry, loaded it in baby and climbed in the backseat. Dean and Sam climbed in the front and as Dean pulled away you looked back at your home and sighed. Lexi nuzzled you and you pet her head. “It’s okay girl, we are going to be just fine” you said looking into the rear view mirror you caught Dean’s eyes. He winked at you and you smiled. Settling back you and Lexi drifted off to sleep.

Part 2

#dean winchester #supernatural #family

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purpleanimeturtle · 6 months

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Pretty Boy

Bruv, I am sleeping over at a friends house tonight, and I pulled this out of my ass. Legit 967 words, the last one was over 700 and I told myself that I didn't want to go more than that but here we are.

T.W. Angst , swearing, and Scream.

Donnie P.O.V.

As the night drew on, my family gradually retreated to their rooms. Starting with Splinter, we don’t know when he left, but he did. Next was Leo, she was worried about how everyone would act tomorrow and convinced Mikey to also go around 10pm. Raph stayed until 12ish.

Leaving me with the one and only Casey Jones.

The only light in the lair was the T.V. playing some horror movie that we had seen several times already, in all honesty I think that Casey fell asleep awhile ago from how still and quiet he was.

“So, you got a boyfriend?”

“Why? You wanna ask me out?”

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

I sigh, no matter how many times I see this movie I can’t get over the fact that she lied about not having a boyfriend and then he got killed like, instantly.

“You never told me your name.”

“Why do you want to know my name?”

“Because I want to know who I'm looking at.”

“What did you say?”

“I want to know who I'm talking to.”

“That's not what you said.”

“What do you think I said?”

Click.

The room turned pitch black as the only source of light went out, so did the sounds of the 1996 horror movie, leaving me with the dripping water and sounds of cars above ground.

“Casey?” I whispered harshly only to get a small “hm” in response.

“Dumb ass, get up, I think someone cut the power or something.” I nudged the lump of blankets as I stood up, my knees popping from sitting on the floor for so long. Casey however didn’t make any attempts to move.

So I figured that it would be alright if I took things into my own hands, literally picking him up and placing him in front of me. Only for him to hit the ground with a loud thump.

“Dee?” He muttered, sleep still apparent in his voice. “Wait, why is it so dark?”

I heard him shuffle from his blankets that stayed on top of him even on the floor.

“Something happened to the power.” I explained as Casey stood up fully, “we need to find out what’s up with it.”

The human snickered, “got too scared to go alone huh Don? Needed big ol’ Casey Jones to help ya?”

He reached his arm forward a few times before it made contact with me, when it did he pulled the rest of himself to close the gap, leaning most of his weight on me. His hands were soft. How did he keep his hands so soft? He went on patrol and trained with us while still juggling hockey and basically caring for his little sister.

“Riiight.” I said sarcastically. I had forgotten how he asks when tired, extra. Extra everything. “Let’s get to my lab, then we should be able to see what’s up.” I started walking with my muscle memory guiding the two of us to the place that I spent most of my time.

The door slightly creaked as I pushed it open, I smiled at the familiar smell of my lab. Luckily some of my projects offered an ethereal light to the room and its belongings. Not so luckily however, there was a thin layer of smoke that surrounded the desk with all of my chemicals.

“Sorry Casey, I’ve been working on this project for a few days and-” I looked at the limp boy still wrapped around me. “-And you're asleep. Wonderful. Idiot.” I whispered as I set him down in one of my spare chairs before walking away to go to the breaker.

A few minutes passed with me trying to figure out what was going on before the almost silence was broken.

“Do you really mean it?” Casey’s voice was still exhausted, but now there was something else in it. It sounded raw and harsh, but there was still something softer than normal.

“Idiot, you will have to be more specific.”

“That.” His voice broke. “Do you really think that I’m an idiot?”

I looked in his direction, his face looked softer through the smoke even if it was now red and his eyes were puffy.

“Jones.”

“I don’t mean it whenever I say it, you're really smart and strong and, and-” His voice broke as the unwelcomed tears started flowing. “Do you remember what I said the other day?” A sniff. “During patrol?” He sounded hopeless, told you he was extra when he was tired.

I took a deep breath as I walked closer but stopped to take a sip of coffee that I had left out earlier, it was cold now but still tasted good enough.

“Casey, I think you should go back to sleep.”

“Donnie.” He begged.

My body moved on its own and pulled him into a hug, of which he accepted immediately, holding me tight and stuffing his face into the crook of my neck as he continued to cry. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know what I was doing.

The teen kept crying as I started to run my fingers through his hair, but slowed down as I started the sing. I knew he liked the song but I didn't have the words memorized so I mainly mumbled it.

Leo used to do this for me, but lately she didn’t have the time.

His breathing slowed and I realized he had fallen back asleep. I wanted to get off of the chair to leave him alone but his arms remained tight on me. So, rather than bothering Casey I opted to stay with him, for his comfort of course! Not because he was warm, and I didn’t have enough strength to get up. Of course not.

God, I hate Pretty boys.

Like I said, I pulled this out of my ass at 10pm last night, my laptop was like 9% and we were watching Be Cool Scooby Doo. Still hope you enjoyed it, there will be even spookier chapters soon. Excpect a short chapter next though.

#casey jones #caseytello #donatello #jonatello #named after songs #tmnt 2012 #tmnt raph 2012 #tmnt leo 2012 #tmnt mikey 2012 #tmnt donnie 2012

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soapsilly · 5 months

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Haunted House - Bucky Barnes Halloween Imagine

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Request: Hi can you write a Halloween imagine where Bucky and his girlfriend go on a mission together. Where they are staying at is haunted. Bucky doesn't really care but his girlfriend is scared and when whatever is haunting the house starts hurting her Bucky gets protective.

(L/N) = last name

Requests are closed for the moment!

I know it is way past halloween but this was really hard to write because I’m really not into ghost stories, so I hope this is alright.

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“Mr. Barnes, Ms. (L/N). Have I made myself clear? This mission is simple. In and out. I expect your report on my desk no later than thursday morning”, Fury ended his briefing with a stern look, “and Agents, I don’t wish a repitition of what happened on your last mission”

Bucky and (Y/N) weren’t only mission partners but also in a relationship. (Y/N) was the S.H.I.E.L.D agent responsible for the reintegration of agents that have been missing in action. That included Steve Rogers and also James Buchanan Barnes but both her and Bucky discovered that they had a lot in common and so they fell in love. That love, however, was ground for quite a few distractions on the missions the two of them had together - nothing grave but certainly enough to make Fury keep his eye on them.

The mission itself wasn’t complicated. There was this old shag near a little village in the mountains, S.H.I.E.L.D picked up some spikes of energy coming from it. Fury suspected it to be a cover for Hydra experiments and it was (Y/N)’s and Bucky’s mission to infiltrate the shag and eliminate the threat.

“Do you think I should pack sunglasses?”

“We’re going on a mission, Doll, not on vacation”, Bucky was amused by his lover’s question.

“I knooow”, she drew out her answer, “but to my defense, we never get to go on vacation. There’s always a mission or an alien invasion or whatever... you know the drill”

Bucky was still in awe of how much the world has changed and how casual his girlfriend was about it.

“How about we go on vacation after this mission? Just the two of us, huh?”, Bucky suggested.

“As long as it’s really just the two of us this time... you know, I love Steve but his alter ego should really be Captain Cockbl-”

“Doll!”

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“You’ll take the front, I’ll take the back”, (Y/N) ordered via the intercom.

Neither of them could know what they were to expect once inside, so they prepared for the worst, but once (Y/N) made her way into the first room there was nothing.

“First room is clear”, she informed her partner.

“Clear”

Once both of them met in what looked like it used to be a living room, confusion was written all over their faces.

“There’s nothing here. Are you sure we haven’t missed something?”, (Y/N) inquired but she received nothing but a shrug from Bucky.

“Maybe there’s an underground lab? Or a secret room?”, he suggested but neither was the case.

(Y/N) defeatedly plopped down on an old sofa. Once her body hit the cushions a thick cloud of dust rose into the air, making the female agent cough violently.

“What are we going to do now? There has to be a reason this place radiates energy”, she sniffled.

“I guess, we’ll have a look around town”, her boyfriend shrugged, “maybe the townspeople can tell us a little more”

And so the both of them switched their mission uniforms for undercover clothing and made their way into town. Eventhough, they tried to blend in they stuck out like a sore thumb. It was a little town where everybody knew eachother - so two strangers running around asking questions were bound to raise suspicions with the people living in the village.

“Do you see how they’re looking at us?”, (Y/N) muttered to her partner while walking over the market place, his hand in hers to uphold the picture.

“I guess they don’t get tourists here often...”, he answered back.

“Wait, let me try something”, she walked up to one of the vendors, “Hi! I’m Leigh Ann Smith-Washington”, she held out her hand to the man, who just looked at her but didn’t make any attempt to actually shake it. “Well... My husband, Kai, and I are Podcasters, ya know? Travelbloggers if you will”, she paused to let her words work for her, “We already went to the Grand Canyooon, the Rocky Mountaaains, Mount Rushmoooore...”, she drew out the last syllables counting down on her fingers, “right now we’re thinking about trying something new, ya know?”

Bucky watched his partner trying to conceal his amusement. The air-head role wasn’t something he was used from her. He knew, though, why she chose to play up the ditzy-ness. If she came across as non-threatening, the chance was higher for the other person to give her the information they needed.

“We’re thinking about making some podcast episodes about some lesser known locations, yeah? There’s so much competition in the podcast-scene... Everybody always thinks about true crime but lost places and paranormal sightings are also reaaaaly popular”, Bucky wondered how long she could keep the act up, “Well, since all the super famous places like the Niagara Falls and so on are already covered on the super famous podcasts we decided to look for some not so super famous places. And we found this lovely hut on that little hill just outside of town.. Do you know it?” - There it was! The man reacted. At first it was barely noticeable but enough for (Y/N) to dig deeper.

“Well, anyways, we’ve been staying there last night but we got, like, totally weird vibes from the place... like the Feng Shui was totally off, ya know? And then we tried to do some research online but there’s barely any cell phone reception out here. We do want our listeners to really have a good experience though... so is there anything you could tell us about it?”

She nodded enthusiastically but the vendor just shook his head.

“I’ve got nothing to tell you. And to be honest, you should really leave. It’s for your own good”

With that the vendor just left the two of them standing with a puzzled look on their faces.

“Guess, it’s back to square one now...”, she sighed.

“I enjoyed your performance, Leigh Anne”, Bucky teased, “and we’re married now, huh?”

“Ah shut up. But did you see his reaction. There’s something up with this hut. Something is weird about this place....”

The two didn’t even get the chance to make a new game plan since two children approached them starring at them with their big eyes.

“Excuse me, Lady! Did you just say you stayed in the haunted house?”, one of the little kids asked (Y/N).

“Yes, but - Wait, what? Haunted house?”, the agent wasn’t sure she heard the right.

“Well yeah. Everybody knows it’s haunted. A long long time ago there was a lady in that house and - and”, the little boy was stumbling over his own words, “she was supposed to get married but her fiance cheated on her so-”

“So she killed herself!”, the other child couldn’t hold back and finished the story for her friend.

“Ah I see”, Bucky was amused by the ghost story but didn’t pay children any more mind. He gave them some money so that they could buy themselves some candy but then turned back to his mission partner.

“Guess we’re really back to square one”, he laughed but (Y/N) didn’t join in on the laughter. In fact, she was looking rather pale.

“What’s up with you?”, Bucky furrowed his brows.

“I’m not going back there. In that haunted house”

“You believe those kids? That story about the rejected bride? That was already old in the 40s”

“Okay, even if - and it’s a big if - but even if the house was really haunted, where’s the problem? You fought aliens and mutants... How come you’re scared of ghosts?”

“Aliens are physical. So are mutants. You can touch them, kick and kill them. Ghosts? Metaphysical. Supernatural. How are you supposed to fight a ghost?”

“Well, good thing ghosts aren’t real then”, her partner grinned and threw his arm around her.

*******************************************************************************************

(Y/N) didn't know how he did it but Bucky somehow convinced her to returned to the shag for some further investigation. And so she begrudgingly found herself on the dusty sofa again while her partner was tinkering around with all kinds of tools to maybe pick up those ominous spikes of energy again.

"I really still don't think this is a good -", she stopped abruptly.

"What?", Bucky asked but didn't really listen.

"Didn't you hear that?"

"Don't be ridiculous", Bucky laughed.

"No, no I swear there was a sound... Sort of... a wailing? I'm telling you it's that ghost lady. Let's just go and tell Fury everything was clean. It wouldn't even be a lie... Not completely at least"

Just as Bucky was about to answer a candle holder crashed down from above the fire place, making (Y/N) shriek.

"What? And now you're trying to tell me that's the wind or what?", she gestured towards the broken metal on the floor.

"I must admit, that's a little weird but still no reason to worry"

When the female agent heard that, she had to take a few deep breaths to calm herself from the desire to attack her boyfriend then and there.

As if someone or something had read her mind she was abruptly jerked away and thrown through the room like a ragdoll.

"(Y/N)!", Bucky barely even had time to register what happened before a deafening shreaking sound could be heard all throughout the little hut.

"What is this?", the Winter Soldier screamed over the sound.

"Oh, well. What do you think?", his girlfriend tried to catch her breath but no such luck. She was barely back on her feet as she felt an icy hand on her throat lifting her up from the floor and into the air, making it hard for her to breath.

Bucky felt panic rise in his chest. This didn't make sense... Ghosts? But now believing in anything but a ghosts became less and less rational. Especially now that he could see a grotesque figure floating right before his eyes. A spindly woman in a worn white dress holding up his mission partner by her throat. Her hand looked almost decayed.

He tried to attack the woman from behind but none of his attacks did any damage. As the ghostly woman turned around to defend herself from Bucky's attacks. But as the soldier came face to face with the ghost, what he saw wasn't a corpse but rather a beautiful bride plagued by grief.

"Do you see what I see, (Y/N)?"

"Right now, all I see are stars", she tried to joke as she recovered from the lack of oxygen.

Much to her surprise the spurned bride did not attack the assassine though. In fact, she seemed to have forgotten about the fight momentarily.

"Bucky! You must remind her of her fiance!"

"If I'm her fiance, what does that make you?", he shouted back.

"The homewrecker I guess"

The ghost Lady turned back to (Y/N), her once beautiful face morphed back to a ugly visage, throwing her up against the brittle walls.

"What do I do?", Bucky seemed panicked, now understanding what his girlfriend meant when she said fighting ghosts seemed impossible. His laid-back attitude long gone now that his lover was in danger.

"Find something- AH!", she could feel the bones in her arm start to break, "find something that belongs to her and- I don't know... Burn it!"

"How do you know that?", Bucky he shouted towards her as he tried to get how down from the wall somehow.

"I don't. Saw it on some TV show", she answered, "Buck, does that really matter?"

"The whole house it hers. How the hell should I know what it is I need to burn?"

"I don't care. Burn the whole damn house down if you have to!", she shrieked as the first bone in her arm snapped.

Bucky started to randomly pull things out of their places. Cupboards, drawers, cabinets - but most of the stuff he found was either worthless junk or had turned to dust already. The only good thing was that the ghost let Bucky basically free reign to search whatever he was looking for as it was busy with (Y/N) at the moment.

"Buck", he heard her screaming from the living room. His heart was racing. She was right. He shouldn't have convinced her to return to the damn hut. She knew it. Of course, she did. He mentally cursed himself. How was he supposed to explain that to S.H.I.E.L.D.? How could he live with himself if something serious was going to happen to her?

He whinced when he heard yet another scream of agony from the adjacent room. He had nearly disassembled the whole room - that by the looks of it must've been the bedroom - when he finally found an old box underneath the bed. Inside, the soldier found many letters, a velvet ring box with an engagement band inside and a old and dirty veil. Bucky really had no idea which one of the box's contents it was that bound the soul of the ghost bride between the worlds but considering (Y/N)'s scream from the other room and the growing noise levels, he didn't really want to play a guessing game. Instead he just decided to light the whole damn box on fire and hoped whatever he was looking for was in there.

"I hope you were right, Doll...", he muttered to himself.

Right after the box went up in flames the shrieking sound was back but louder than before and for a moment Bucky thought his eardrums would rupture from the sheer volume of it. He feared that burning the bride's belongings didn't have the desired effect but rather pissed her off even more. He quickly made his way into the living room again, just in time for him to see the ghost set aflame in the middle of the room and his girlfriend lying on the floor - motionless.

He headed over to her, not caring if the ghost could possibly still be dangerous. All that mattered at the moment was that (Y/N) was safe. Once he reached her, he let out a sigh of relief when he saw that she was indeed still breathing. But upon seeing her battered and bruised state, he immediately cursed himself yet again. How could he have let that happen?

"Agent Barnes here, mission accomplished. Agent (L/N) is hurt, please get us out of here ASAP", he spoke into his earpiece.

He tried to lift her as gently as he could so that they could leave this place sooner rather than later. He released a shaky breath he was holding when she whinced as his metal arm touched her bare skin. He took that as a good sign - eventhough she still didn't gain her consciousness back.

He waited for the jet that would bring them both to safety outside of the hut, finally respecting her wish for her to not wanting to be inside the haunted house. Unfortunately a little too late.

"Hey Buck", her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, "I was right by the way". Her voice was weak and raspy but she still tried to smile up at him before whincing in pain.

"Yes, you were, Doll", he chuckled, "but I'm not surprised"

************************************************************************

"What did I tell you?", to say that Fury was a little less than thrilled was an understatement, "What did I tell you, Agents (L/N) and Barnes? I wanted a simple mission. In and out. In and out. Do I look like a man, that likes surprises?"

(Y/N) and Bucky shrunk in their seats. Getting yelled at by Fury strangely reminded them of being reprimanded by their teacher - but worse somehow.

"To be fair, Sir. You don't really look like a man that likes anything", (Y/N) tried to lighten the mood, which seemed to actually have the opposite effect.

"Do you realize what this means? Not only do we have to now investigate aliens and Hydra but also we'll have to open a whole new task force for the paranormal and ghost sightings!"

"And we'll be glad to assist wherever possible", she slowly stood up from her chair, grabbing her boyfriends arm in the process, signaling him to do likewise, "as soon as were back from vacation of course", she quickly added as she pulled Bucky with her out of the room.

"AGENT (Y/N)!!"

"Run, run, runrunrunrun", she laughed.

The both of them finally slowed down several corridors later.

"You know here are cameras everywhere, yes?", Bucky grinned at his girlfriend.

(Y/N) panted still not properly healed from her injuries.

"I don't care", she smiled back at him.

"I'm sorry about our vacation plans", he turned serious for a moment. He knew how much she wanted to finally go on a beach vacation - swimming, sun bathing, cocktails on one of Tony's private beaches but (Y/N) was still pretty bruised up, which was the smaller problem, but the bulky cast around her arm made swimming impossible and sweating in the sun with her arm in a plaster didn't sound appealing to her either.

"Are you kidding? Any vacation right now is like a damn luxury. Granted - a cabin in the woods is rather ironical but how high are the chances of this shit happening twice?"

"I mean... It's more of a lodge but the irony is not lost on me", he chuckled. Her ability to find humour in everything was one of the things he loved about her the most.

"I'm just gonna say goodbye to Steve and then we can head out"

"Bucky, I love you. And you know, I love Steve. But if you offer him to join again, I swear the two of you can go alone and I'll enjoy my time alone here in the spa", she warned her lover.

"Cross my heart and hope to die", he leaned over to peck her on the lips before heading out to his best friend's. For a while she just stood there watching after him, mentally preparing herself for the very real possibility for Captain Cockblock to join them on their vacation - but if she was honest with herself, she wouldn't have it any other way.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan imagine #winter soldier imagine #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #winter soldier x reader #sebastian stan x reader #avengers imagine

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aprocessionofthoughts · 6 months

Text

What We Have in Common

whumptobe23 day 28- bloody knife fandom- dp x dc TW- none summary- Danny helps Jason heal

ao3 whumptober23 maserlist part 7 of DLM

Jason was still out of it by the time they arrived back at his apartment. The kid set him down on the couch and then slipped his helmet off, though Jason’s not sure how since one moment it was on and the next it was off. But now that he thought about it, he didn’t remember opening the window. Does the kid have some kind of density shifting?

But now that the helmet is off Jason can look down at his torso. It’s covered by a thin layer of ice.

“I’m going to need to remove your shirt to take care of your injuries. Is that okay?”

“Sure, kid.” Jason said and took a deep breath. Things are starting to come into better focus, and with the focus comes more pain.

The kid does the same kind of density shifting to Jason’s shirt as he did to the helmet. And then the kid freezes.

Oh. That’s right.

Danny let out a rueful chuckle. “Guess you’re more like me than I thought.”

“I was dead when this happened.'' Jason says, because he’s afraid that the kid wasn’t when he got his own matching scar.

“Ah, so not quite the same, but that still sucks.”

Jason decides that he doesn't want to talk about dissections at the moment. “Why do you look different?”

“I’m a halfa, that means I have two forms.”

“Will I have that?”

“No you don’t have enough ecto.” Danny said examining the wounds on Jason’s torso.

“You’ve mentioned ecto before, but I don’t actually know what that is.”

“Ectoplasm is what ghost’s are made out of. It’s kind of hard to explain since it’s what ghosts are made out of, what they produce, and what the whole Realms is made out of. But think of it like carbon. Here in the Living Realm, carbon is one of the main building blocks. When it comes to ghosts, the main building block is ectoplasm.”

“Huh. What does ectoplasm look like?”

“It’s green and glowy. It’s umm…” Danny bit his lip, “it’s also what I’m going to use to heal you.”

Jason was suddenly feeling more nervous. “What brought me back was a Lazarus Pit which is green and glowy.”

Danny frowned. “Well it may be ectoplasm. But if it is, it must be corrupted because you kind of stink of corrupted ectoplasm.”

“What–”

“Look, I can answer your questions later, but I should really start healing your wounds before they get worse.”

Jason wanted to protest, but the pain in his torso was steadily increasing so he relented.

“Sure.”

“Okay, so don’t be alarmed, this may look strange, but I promise it’s fine.”

Well, now Jason was alarmed.

Then Danny reached into his chest and pulled out a knife.

Yup, Jason was definitely alarmed.

But then, Danny drew the knife across his own hand. Glowy green liquid started to bubble up, and before Jason could say anything Danny had pressed his hand to one of Jason’s wounds.

Jason gasped as a cold sensation began at the wound and slowly started spreading out to the rest of him. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable cold, more like stepping into an air conditioned building after being out in the hot summer sun. Or like taking a drink of cool lemonade on a hot day.

Jason wanted to protest. Danny shouldn’t have to hurt himself for Jason. But he found himself unable to voice his protests as the cool feeling filled him. It felt like it was lulling him to sleep. Like it wanted Jason to sink into the comfort of Danny helping him.

Danny moved his still bleeding hand to Jason’s other wounds, and after a few minutes the pain was gone. Danny removed his hand and stuck the knife back in his own chest.

That was definitely disturbing, and Jason was going to ignore it for now.

Jason was about to ask about Danny’s hand, and reprimand him about hurting himself when he noticed the wound had already knit itself closed.

“You didn’t have to do that. I would have healed just fine.”

“You actually wouldn’t have. Not with your corrupted ecto, which now I definitely think was from whatever Pit you said brought you back. The GIW’s weapons are designed to disrupt the natural flow of ecto, and without access to pure ecto, or without your body's ability to create more, the infection would have spread and caused major damage.”

Jason thought about that for a moment, and then decided he’d think about that later. Maybe after he took a nap. But first he had another question.

“What is the GIW?”

“It literally stands for the Ghost Investigation Ward. But me and my friends call them the Guys in White.”

Jason snorted.

Then Jason’s window creaks open, and Danny disappears.

Shoot. He forgot to contact his siblings.

#whumptober #whumptober 2023 #Jason todd #jason is liminal #Danny fenton #giw #no.28 #bloody knife

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youmakemyhearthowl · 1 year

Text

Punk Princess

And just like that, a tradition was born. Every Tuesday night, when Hopper was out working the late shift (because apparently Steve lived with him and El what? ) Eddie would come over to the Hopper-Harrington residence and host DnD nights.

This was quite literally killing Eddie.

“Gareth, dude you don’t understand, now that he’s more healed up than before he’s started walking around in like tank tops and he has a monster tattooed on his fucking arm. I didn’t think he could get any hotter. And, and he is so fucking soft with his sister El, it’s insane. Like a total mom about her and it’s killing me. Gareth I’m dying, I’m dead, I wanna suck his dick so bad” Jeff groans from somewhere in the back of the garage, setting up a few of the amps.

“Eddie I swear to god, I’m going to kill you if you don’t shut up.” Gareth grumbles, slamming a drum stick down on the symbol for emphasis.

“Yesterday he fucking, just sat in my lap on the throne they have for the game set up, because there wasn’t a chair and it took everything in me not to pop a woody right then and there. Have you seen his ass?” Eddie couldn’t contain the dreamy sigh he let out as Mack cursed him out from somewhere to the left.

“Wait, you said he had a tattoo?” Jeff perks up leaning his arms on the amp in front of him. Gareth groans.

“Jeff, don’t encourage his behavior.”

“Jeff my man, he has two tattoos, the one on his arm is this super sick art work of some creature whose mouth opens like a flower and it’s just covered in teeth. Will told me he drew it for him and they call it a Demogorgon even though it looks nothing like the actual one in DnD. And there's one on his hip, although I don’t know what it is cause I only saw a little bit of it peaking out once but it looked like flowers or something.”

“Wait Steve knows DnD?” Mack is the one to speak up this time, and Gareth just bangs his head on the drums in front of him.

“Yes!” Eddie shouts, hopping up off the couch he’s on to pace out some of the energy just thrumming under his skin. “Sometimes when we play, he’ll be with the girls like braiding Max’s hair while El braids Robins and he will just, fucking chime in with his knowledge of something or other that’s happening in the campaign. Dustin gets unreasonably attached to whatever Steve recommends too, even if it might be a poor play.”

“Huh, maybe you should invite him to Hellfire.” It’s Gareth that speaks up this time, a mischievous glint in his eyes that makes Eddie feel a little nauseous.

“No, absolutely not.”

“Eddie come on, you never shut up about the guy, and this way it’d give you another reason to spend time with him. And we wouldn't have to hear you wax poetic about his ass during a campaign.” Jeff offers out, and actually that’s not a bad idea, even though he can see Gareth and Jeff and Mack exchanging sneaky looks out of the corner of his eyes, he thinks they might actually be on to something, Because if Steve comes to Hellfire, he’ll be on Eddies turf, and maybe for once he’ll have the upper hand and get Steve flustered.

“Alright, yea I’ll do it. I’m gonna ask Steve to join Hellfire.” He nods his head spinning on his heels and scooping up his guitar. “Are we gonna practice or what?”

He just barely misses getting hit in the face by the drum stick Gareth sends flying at him.

Eddie’s absolutely terrified walking into school Thursday morning. He’s got a whole speech planned out to convince Steve to join Hellfire staying up late to prepare and practice it, but he just knows in his gut he’s gonna fumble the execution.

Gareth comes saddling up next to him as he makes his way down the hall towards the outside bleachers where they usually spend Hellfire’s free period. He knows Robin and Steve are usually out there as well so the conversation is sneaking up on him fast.

“You gonna ask him?” Gareth whispers in his ear, a shit eating grin spreading across his face.

“Obviously.” He knows you can hear the nerves in his voice and Gareth just throws his head back and laughs.

“Alright, good luck.” He offers before skip stepping over to where the rest of Hellfire is sat, and Eddie takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as he turns towards where Steve and Robin are.

He fucking flat lines.

Steve's standing on top of the highest part of the bleachers, his battle vest sitting over his black denim jacket open to reveal the soft pastel blue sweater he has underneath, and his arm is outstretched with a long roll of paper, pretending like its a sword or something as he marches back and forth. His hair is spiked slightly today to make it a cross between a traditional mohawk and the fluffy hawk he usually wears it as, and his eyes are lined in a bright blue liner with gray smoke around them. He notices idly that Steve had pierced his other eyebrow to make up for the one Billy had ripped out, and he’d shaved a little extra in the scar where the old one was so he has a slit in his eyebrow now.

Fuck he can’t do this.

Shit why is Steve so fucking hot.

He can hear Gareth and Jeff cackling off to the right as he just stands there, hands in his pockets open mouth gaping at Steve, but he can’t get his feet to move.

“Oi, Munson.” It’s Robin's voice that brings his brain back online, Her hands waving back and forth over her head. “Come here, I need your opinion on something.” And who is Eddie if not too oblige to that demand. So he takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders and saunters his way over to them.

“Okay so Steve thinks he’d be a barbarian in DnD right? But I’m convinced he’s more of a Cleric. What do you think?”

And isn’t this the perfect opening. The universe shinning down on him for the first time in his life, and he’d be stupid if he didn’t grab this opportunity by the balls and run with it.

“Actually, Stevie, I think you’re more of a Paladin.” Steve stumbles slightly on the bench he’s still marching on, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets now, Eddie can see a soft blush rising to his cheeks. “Like okay, you know how Paladins have their belief and their oath right? Well your oath is totally the kids, or in this case The Party you’d play with. And you’re damn loyal too so you’d bend over backwards to make sure your party stays as safe as they possibly can no matter the quest.” As he talks he sees Steve's cheeks steadily grow redder and redder, scratching the back of his neck and turning his face bashfully. Hook, line.

Eddie’s on his own turf now, he’s just gotta see if he can drive it home.

“If you wanna try your hand at it, we are starting a new campaign in Hellfire tonight, and you can join. Robin too.” Robin's face lights up, joy mixed with mischief and he wonders if it’s a good idea to actually have her in the same room as Gareth and Jeff. But Steve's eyes are shining a bit as he ambles down the bleacher bench till he's standing almost nose to nose with Eddie.

“You asking me on a date, Munson?” God fucking damn it, this fuckers smooth . Eddie groans internally, because apparently Steve seems to always have the upper hand, and Eddie can't catch a break. Taking a deep breath, Eddie rolls for charisma and leans a little bit closer to Steve, the tips of their noses brushing.

“See if you can even survive the campaign and maybe I’ll think about taking you to dinner, Princess.” Steve’s eyes grow big and he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, nodding his head slightly.

And sinker . Eddie’s got him right where he wants him.

#Punk Steve #Punk!Steve #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steddie fanfiction #Hexx Drabbles #Gareth is so done #punk princess fic

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spinchip · 10 months

Text

NEVER THE DARK

Chapter 8

Read on Ao3

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

warnings: body horror, grief

GRIEF IS NOT A FEELING// BUT A NEIGHBORHOOD.

Jay wakes up to the smell of something savory wafting to his nose. He sits up slowly, stretching his arms over his head until his joints popped loudly, swallowing against the dry taste in his mouth. He looks over the campfire. A small pot has been strung up over the flames with a series of branches tied together with black lichen, a thick brown soup bubbled away inside and gave off a frankly mouth watering smell.

Lloyd is sitting at attention, stirring the soup every few seconds.

“Morning. You made breakfast?” He asks, running his hands through his hair to de-tangle it.

“Absolutely not.” Lloyd informs him, “Birdy’s the brains of this operation. He went to forage for spoons.”

“Spoons?”

“That’s what he said.” Lloyd shrugs, “He and I caught some fish this morning, and he dug up some beans too. He’s been preparing it for hours.”

Birdy appears a few seconds later holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Are those for me?” Jay jokes, “Or should I wake Cole?” He teases, smiling as Birdy ducks his head in embarrassment.

“They’re for everyone.” He tells him, sitting down and breaking off a petal. It literally snaps free from the stem, “Spoon flower. They get stiff near the end of their season, perfect for make-shift utensils.”

“Huh. That’s pretty cool.” He comments,”You sure know a lot.”

“I have been here a while,” Birdy reminds him, popping off the rest of the petals, “And it was not all my findings. There’s a self-proclaimed polymath high up in Oasis’s hierarchy. Samiras right hand man. He has made a lot of significant discoveries… Hopefully you never get to meet him.”

The smell of food finally rouses Cole, who sits up already drooling, “That smells amazing.” He hums, inhaling deeply.

“I don’t have bowls, so we’ll just have to split the pot.” He says apologetically as Lloyd wakes Nya and Kai.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting anything. I’m not complaining.” Cole says easily, scooping up the first bite of soup and tossing it down the hatch. “Oh, wow! This tastes like pot roast.”

“Fish here is more like a red meat.” Birdy nods, pleased as the others dig in.

“So what’s the plan to avoid Oasis?” Lloyd asks once everyone ate their fill and camp was sufficiently broken down.

Birdy brushes any leftover sand off his pants, “There is no plan. There is only one exit that will not detour our journey by weeks, and it leads directly into Oasis’s territory. We are relying on pure luck that a patrol doesn’t stumble on us coming out of the caves. If we’re caught, they will take us directly to Samira.”

“Luck.” Jay echoes, “I don’t know if you know this, but it was our lousy luck that got us stranded here in the first place. I think we’ll be making an appearance in Oasis’s jail today.”

With a shake of his head, Birdy starts to lead them through the tunnels. The river at the bottom swells and shrinks randomly, to the point where there are times they’re wading through it. Jay drew the short straw of the bunch, which really was just him realizing too late the team was splitting into pairs. Kai and Nya were walking side by side behind Cole and Lloyd, leaving the only empty spot right next to Birdy. His spot. It’s not like he doesn’t like the guy- he’s been nothing but helpful this whole time- but the mask is… well, it’s creepy. And Birdy is awkward. All attempts at conversation outside the oddities of the realm had really fallen flat, and if there’s one thing Jay liked to do it was talk.

He looks around the caves, swiveling his head every which way, trying to find something to catch and keep his attention. He so badly wants something to fidget with. He finds himself rubbing his hands together and caving around the urge to pick at the skin around his nails. His mood darkens as they walk. He can’t help but think that this shouldn’t have happened. The museum fight was just such a mess. She ran right past them for FSM’s sake…

“Are you alright?” Birdy asks near silently, able to speak lowly enough that the others don’t catch on.

Jay feels himself bristle, “Oh, Yeah,” He snorts, “Like i’d spill my heart to you. You won’t even show us your face.” He lashes out. Birdy flinches barely, just enough that you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren't a specially trained ninja with eyes like a hawk.

Birdy moves on quietly and doesn’t say anything else unless it’s a warning about treacherous ground. Despite himself, Jay starts to feel bad. He wasn’t technically in the wrong. Birdy didn’t really have the right to ask about that stuff. He’s a total stranger! Just because he’s leading them through the Realm doesn’t mean Jay has to spill his heart to him! But he can hear his moms voice in the back of his head- You could at least be polite, Jay! We have manners in this house! There’s no need to get snippy.

“We… lost someone a few years ago,” He starts quietly. Birdy turns his head ever so slightly, enough to signal to Jay he’s listening, “He was home. He kept us all together. We’ve just been going through the motions without him, pretending to be this big happy family and no one acknowledges that we’ve been barely hanging on since he died.”

Birdy crosses over a wide branching path from the river, reaching back to grab Jay's hand for stability over the wet stepping stones, “You are not happy here? With your partners?”

“I…” He sighs, “It’s different now. I love Cole and Kai with everything I have, but it’s not right without Zane. We aren’t balanced. Kai moved out of our bedroom. When we argue Cole never has my back anymore.” Jay struggles to find the right words.

Birdy stays quiet so Jay can finish, “I just don’t think we’ll ever have the strength to fight without him. Not for our relationship, and certainly not as Ninjagos greatest heroes. Even this mess here and now is proof. We only ended up in this place because we still haven’t compensated for his loss.” He looks down at his red nails beds, bitten to bleeding, “And then what? Do we die too? What’s the point of that?” he says bitterly.

Long moments pass as Birdy waits. Jay doesn’t go on. He actually thinks Birdy isn’t going to say anything in response- which, well, fair. It was kind of a lot. Pretty heavy stuff. He hadn’t meant to spill like that, but once the ball was rolling he couldn’t stop it and Birdy was just so surprisingly easy to talk to. He opens his mouth to apologize when Birdy finally breaks the silence.

“It is hard,” He begins slowly, “To feel so alone.”

Its Jays turn to flinch. Birdy sliced right down to his core, looking at the things he said and picking out the root of the problem instantly.

“I understand.” He says carefully, “When I was sent here, I lost everything. My family. My home.” He runs his thumb over the handle of his staff, feeling the grooves in the metal, “I spent so much time just surviving, putting one foot in front of the other. I had no one in this world, and I never will. I was truly alone- but there is understanding in loneliness when there is no one around. It is a unique type of pain to feel lonely surrounded by the people you love. Hiding behind grief, Putting up a barrier and pushing them away, it feels better because at least then the loneliness feels justified.”

Jay doesn’t look at him.

“When you saw the beast in the forest, you were ready for a battle.” Birdy says meaningfully, “It did not look like you wanted to run away.”

“I was just surviving.” Jay parrots simply, for once at a loss of words.

“No,” Birdy says immediately. He reaches out and grabs Jays hand, stopping him from picking as his nails, “You were fighting for your family, and you must let them in so they can fight for you too. Do not throw this away, Jay- You do not want that.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Jay reminds him sharply, jerking his hand back defensively.

Birdy pulls away and looks straight ahead, ”I know.” He moves forward several long strides and Jay has to half-jog to catch up.

"What about you?" Jay pivots, "You lost everything. You're basically in hell. Why keep going? Why go through the trouble of helping a bunch of strangers?"

There's another long pause, this time Jay's sure Birdy's not going to respond when he breaks the silence, "This isn't hell." Is all he says, and nothing more.

He jogs forward suddenly, breaking away from Jay fully. In front of them, a wall of vines has grown thick and long, tendrils dragging along the stone floor. Birdy pulls them aside like a curtain to reveal a thin shaft of natural light, and a tall cavern climbing sharply into the sky. A few feet above Birdys head the purple-gray stone transitions to dirt and earth where the walls are covered in deep black holes. Jutting out of the patches of soil between burrows are long, fat tubers. The ends are sliced down flat while still allowing a substantial chunk to poke into the corridor above them. At the very top Jay can see the now-familiar rolling clouds.

“This is our stop.” Birdy announces, craning his head up to the sky.

The others filter in through the vines, the hole wide enough for them all to fit comfortably. “So where’s the elevator?” Jay asks.

Birdy dips his head in a way that implies a courtesy smile before railroading on, “We climb.”

“Oh, this’ll be a piece of cake!” Cole grins, stepping up to the wall and prepping the best pathway up in his mind.

Reaching out to stop Cole's hand from touching the wall, Birdy chokes up on his staff and informs them, “You must not put your hands or feet into the holes.” He says seriously before sticking the tip of his staff into the closest one. Immediately a spray of fire lights up the cave, a slender headed animal darting halfway out before retreating back inside, huge slicing claws leaving gouges on the side of its burrow. “Magma Moles. They do not attack unless threatened, and encroaching on their home is the easiest way to do so.”

Cole gulps, “Noted!” He laughs awkwardly, restarting with a different pathway in mind. After a moment, he nods to himself and leaps up into action, scaling up the wall like he was born for it.

The others go after him. Birdy starts second, using the vegetables as hand and foot holds to haul himself up on the other side of the pit. It’s a slow, arduous process. Jay takes a deep breath and starts up, pacing himself because the climb is a long one. He glances around at the others, all of them in different stages of the climb. They’re all doing as expected despite the slickness of their handholds. Steady progress. Cole leads Kai and Nya up slowly and carefully while Jay skitters up after Birdy.

In the mouth of the burrow right next to him the darkness shifts. There’s half a second of fear before Jay realizes he’s not under attack, “Aw, hi little fella!” He greets, face to face with one of the mole-like rodents. It’s far tinier with any adult with fluffier spotted fur- a puppy!

It’s not one of his smarter moments. He can admit that. He reaches out and pets it.

The little thing allows it for a moment before it gets a good whiff of Jay's human-stink and connects the dots that the loving stroke is not from a beloved family member. At this realization, it lets out a long high pitched squeak, one that makes Jays ears ring- and below them, the cave erupts into fire.

“Climb!” Birdy orders frantically, “They are pack animals, that was a cub's distress call!”

AKA, they just threatened a baby, and now the village was ready to roast them alive. Jay's heart rate jacks up as he begins to scramble up the wall, dodging streams of fire by a hair's width. Despite the panic, he realizes there’s a pattern- about 3 seconds of fire max with a 5 second minimum cool down time. He watches each hole and, in the brief moments after the fire stream stutters out he uses the holes as launch points to haul himself up quicker. Cole grabs him by the hand the moment he’s close enough and yanks him out of the hole hard enough to make his shoulders ache, the others clawing their way up heart beats after.

They scramble away as the moles all synchronize their next blast and a pillar of fire shoots up from the pit, scorching the trees on the edge of the clearing they found themselves in.

Kai groans as the fire putters out and flops on his back, exhausted, “Way to go Jay!”

“No one warned me the babies would be so cute!” He defends where he’s sprawled out in the dirt, trying to breathe.

Birdy on his feet, leaning on his staff. “You forgot the first rule already.” He laments.

Nya and Lloyd huff out a laugh, leaning against each other. The cave entrance is only just now returning to dim darkness, the streams of defensive fire finally dimming as the animals chitter and chirp to each other. The light, however, was a beacon to anyone who might be passing by. It would have been less obvious to shoot off a flare gun and announce I’m over here, come get me! Through a megaphone.

They hear them coming moments before they see them, the thick forest hiding them from sight for a few precious moments. Birdy straightens and adjusts his grip on his staff, but when he glances back, his grip loosens. Jay looks at them- exhausted from the mad scramble, singed or burnt, tired because well, let's face it, sleeping on rocks wasn’t exactly comfortable… they weren’t the strike team they usually were, and the band of warriors approaching them sounded fresh and ready for a fight.

There is a familiar swishing sound that Jay registers half a second too late to warn anyone about. Birdy hisses in pain, dropping his staff. The throwing knife thankfully bounced off his fingers instead of severing any, but Birdy still has to shake out the sting as the patrol group finally emerges from the woods to surround them.

The apparent leader of the little group swaggers forward, “Well well well, what do we have here? Little Birdy's come back to play?” He’s a wolf armed with a huge morning star in one hand, but what sticks out most to Jay is that he sneers at them with teeth that have grown together into chunky blocks of bone. His mouth doesn't close right because of it, the smirk lopsided.

“Wox.” Birdy greets, squaring his shoulders and standing tall, “You’re looking well.”

Wox throws his head back and laughs, the roof of his mouth studded with more rows of flat bone teeth, “Flattery won’t win you any mercy, mate.” He crosses his arms, and it’s only now that Jay realizes that what he initially thought was a flail was just the man’s hand, the bones of his fingers fused and studded with random claws and bits of shattered bone.

This is the first set of people since Maurice that they’ve gotten to see the effects of entropy in action. Wox is not the worst off of the group. Jay has to will himself not to flinch as he continues to notice new and unique ways the people around them have been mutated horrifically. The girls to his left- he can’t look at her hands. He thinks he might be sick. Exposed bone, extra limbs, Cronenberg body horror that will haunt his dreams he’s certain. He’s sweating.

The others in the patrol spread out, and the Ninja get to their feet immediately. They huddle together as the crew herds them into the center of the clearing like sheep. Jay's hand rests on the handle of his weapon, but Birdy glances back and shakes his head minutely.

“We’re just passing through.” Lloyd explains, stepping up beside Birdy.

“Passing through?” The girl at Wox’s side snorts, her jaw hanging on by only a few thin pieces of elastic looped around her head, “You can’t just pass through Oasis, greenie. You gotta talk to the boss, get permission, you see?”

Wox steps forward, “Which Birdy knows, don��t he?” He says pointedly, glaring at the man. “But I suppose that’s where you were heading, weren’t ya- to see Samira. You wasn’t gonna just sneak on by, right?”

Birdy stays quiet, thinking. “…That is correct.” He says tensely.

“Well good. We’ll lead you there, make sure you arrive safely.” Wox uncrosses his arms, the mass of bone that was one his hand dragging across the dirt.

Birdy glances back at them, holding the look like he wants desperately to tell them something but can’t, before turning back, “Lead the way.” He grabs his staff off the ground as they’re wrangled through the woods.

Jay’s close enough that when Lloyd turns his head to Birdy and asks, “What’s the plan?” He can plainly hear when Birdy says nothing at all.

They pass through the trees in tense silence.

Jay squares his shoulders and prepares for the worst. That's how it always goes, after all.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #jay walker #lloyd garmadon #nya ninjago #kai ninjago #cole ninjago #zane julien #spinchip fic #ninjago never the dark #ninjago au #body horror #grief #spinchip posts

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astro-can · 7 months

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Meaning of Life | soukoku | Chapter One

"ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ?"

Nakahara Chuuya’s one wish in life is for Dazai Osamu to disappear forever. Or at least, that’s what he thinks. Dazai Osamu’s one wish in life is to find a beautiful woman to commit double suicide with. Or at last, that’s what he wants Chuuya to think.

a short soukoku fanfiction (around 3-4 chapters) tw: suicide and blood word count: 1.4k

Nakahara Chuuya was at his limit.

He was walking to his favourite bar one late evening after a particularly tiring day. The Boss had putten him in charge of overseeing a suspicious group of ability-users in the north side of the city. The job could’ve easily gone to someone ranked lower than him, like Akutagawa or Tachihara, but Chuuya knew best to not disobey the Boss’s orders. Long story short, he managed to find out the identity and motive of the group, interrogate the members, kill the leader, and dispose of any evidence that the group ever existed. The job was fairly effortless, but then he was sent to pick up all of Elise’s clothes at the tailor. And that was no easy job.

I don’t know why Boss keeps giving me such useless tasks. I’m one of the five executives, for christ’s sake. I should be doing more than hauling fifty pounds of dresses for some young bratty girl.

Just when he thought his day couldn’t get any worse, Dazai Osamu showed up.

A coincidence? Maybe. But for his greatest rival and ex-partner to show up at the same bar at the exact same time as him, he doubted it.

Naturally, Chuuya picked up the nearest object (which happened to be a bottle of wine) and threw it at Dazai.

“Woah, woah, Chuuya-kun! No need to be so aggressive!” Dazai caught the bottle with one hand instead of dodging it and tapped the counter. “Get me a cup, bartender.”

The bartender was a middle-aged woman with short curly hair. She nodded and obliged. Dazai took a seat a few chairs away from Chuuya and poured himself a shot of the wine he had thrown at him.

“What the hell are you doing here, shitty Dazai? Get out of my sight before I pummel you to death!” Chuuya roared, scooting away from his enemy.

“Are you already drunk? It seems like you haven’t even drank anything yet, though.” Dazai flashed his infamous smile at Chuuya. He looked no different than he usually did - shaggy brown hair, a long beige coat, a dark vest over a dress shirt, beige pants, and a bolo tie held together with a turquoise pendant. His eyes were bright under the dim lights hanging above, although Chuuya could see a hint of exhaustion behind them.

“Allow me.” Dazai scooted over and started pouring for Chuuya. However, as he drew his hand back, he hit the cup and knocked it over onto Chuuya’s clothes.

“You bitch–! You did that on purpose!” A vein popped in Chuuya’s forehead as he grabbed a few napkins to clean it up. “I had this vest cleaned yesterday!”

“Well then, you can clean it again! Not that hard, no?” Dazai hummed.

That menace! “What are you even doing here? Doesn’t the President of the Agency get mad when you casually meet up with members of the Port Mafia?” Chuuya gave up on trying to get Dazai to leave, knowing that his efforts would be futile. He did increase the distance between him and Dazai, though. He wanted nothing to do with his former partner.

“I couldn’t care less if Fukuzawa-san found out!” Dazai exclaimed loftily. “It’s Kunikida that would scold me. But I don’t care what he thinks, so all’s good!”

He really doesn't give a fuck, huh? Fucking bastard.

Did he want to see me? Is that why he’s here?

…As if.

“What about you, Chuuya-kun? What are you doing at a bar at this time of day?”

“Why do you care?” Chuuya snapped, tilting his head back and taking a shot. “Found any new suicide methods recently?”

“Why do you care?” Dazai mocked him, making a silly face. Chuuya slammed his cup down angrily and glared at him, activating his Gravity Manipulation to show off a dark red aura. “Calm down, Chuuya-kun, I’m just kidding!”

Chuuya-kun, Chuuya-kun. Tch, he needs to shut up. “I just want you to die already, goddammit!”

“But Chuuya-kun…I need a beautiful woman to commit double suicide with! Otherwise, it won’t be fun or meaningful!” Dazai said, eyeing the bartender. “Like, for instance…”

“H-huh?” The bartender’s face turned bright red when Dazai jumped up and gently grabbed her slender hands.

“Oh, gorgeous maiden, would you have the honor of committing double suicide with me? We could elegantly jump off a tall building together, for example, the Port Mafia headquarters…” Pink roses and golden sparkles were practically emitting off of Dazai, his cunning smirk now changed to a soft smile. He batted his eyelashes and leaned in, only an inch away from the poor woman.

Chuuya stared at Dazai. Normally, he would pull the bastardous boy away and apologize to the woman, but today, a different kind of anger washed over him.

That damn woman did not deserve to hold Dazai’s hands, and she certainly did not deserve Dazai’s proposal of double suicide.

Wait…what?

Am I drunk?

Why am I thinking like this?

He clenched his fists. Is Dazai pulling some trick on me to make me feel jealous?

Why am I jealous?

Since when did I get jealous?

“...Oi, Chuuya. Looking a bit pale there.” Dazai turned around, his left cheek red from the slap the bartender had just given him. “Already wasted?”

She…slapped him.

She slapped him?

Chuuya gritted his teeth and directed his glare towards the woman, who was now awkwardly shuffling away.

Then he realized what he was doing and stopped himself. Why do you care? You hate Dazai. You hate Dazai. You hate Dazai. You wish he would just die already.

While Chuuya struggled with his little internal conflict, Dazai side-eyed him calculatingly. Then the corners of his mouth twitched up, as if he had figured something out. “What’s wrong, Chuuya? Old age finally getting to you? Need me to crack some of those joints?”

“We’re the same age!” Chuuya hissed. He felt his face heat up from Dazai’s second statement. Stop it, dirty mind.

“Ah, but you’re so much shorter! And why do you look so sick?” Dazai showed no sign of stopping until he got an answer. “Is that just a thing that happens with short people when they’re at bars?”

Chuuya clicked his tongue in annoyance and hit Dazai as hard as he could. The latter doubled over in pain and grunted, muttering a few incoherent words under his breath. Chuuya found himself blushing, and immediately hid his face from Dazai. “...I’m the only one who’s allowed to hit you,” he whispered.

“What was that?” Dazai perked up.

“Nothing, go to hell! Why do you want to die so much anyway? If you want to commit suicide, then commit suicide, whether it be with a hot woman or whatever!” Chuuya yelled, annoyed by Dazai’s antics.

Dazai’s playful expression vanished and was replaced by a serious one. “Why do you think I always attempt suicide but I never commit it?”

“Huh…?” Chuuya looked up, startled by Dazai’s sudden change in tone. “Wha…I don’t know. Tell me.”

Dazai’s smile returned. “Wahahaha, it's a secret! You’ll have to find that out for yourself!

“You—!”

The chair screeched back as Dazai stood up. He winked at Chuuya and left the bar after laying some money on the counter. Chuuya grunted, grabbed the wine bottle, and took a long swig. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a piece of paper on the chair Dazai had been sitting in.

“…” Chuuya snatched it up before anybody else could look at it.

Saturday, 11pm, south docks. Just you and me ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ

He scoffed. So shitty Dazai came here for a reason. Some sort of mission? Why would we be doing it together? Twin Dark became no more after he left the Mafia.

Shouldn’t I run this by the Boss?

Just you and me.

Chuuya shoved the paper into his pocket and stood up to leave. He laid money on the counter and strode out of the bar, opening the door and inhaling the fresh air.

He took out a cigarette and pondered on whether to have a smoke before going home or not.

“Chuuya-kuuuuuun, you do know that you’ll die of lung cancer if you keep smoking, right? In that case, I’ll appreciate it if you keep going! You’ll be out of my life sooner, then!”

“Does he really want me to die of lung cancer?” Chuuya twisted the cigarette with his fingers and tossed it into the garbage nearby. The people around him moved away, scared of the scary aura surrounding him. He tugged his hat low to hide his sour expression and downturned lips, his hand trembling from an unknown feeling.

“What a jerk.”

line without a hook - ricky montgomery

chapter two

#bungo stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #chuuya bsd #dazai osamu #dazai bsd #soukoku #ssk #soukoku fanfiction #enemies to lovers #fanfiction #meaning of life #bsd #twin dark #dazai x chuuya #my story

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trashboatprince · 1 year

Text

Normally, I tend to keep quiet here on theories, but sometimes I like to indulge in them. The Henry is a perfect Bendy one is a mixed bag, but I can’t deny I've played around with the concept in the past. (I used to have an au for it, but someone stole my ideas and I left the au alone because it upset me to work on it.)

And since the theory is making the rounds again, I decided to write up an idea that's been rolling about in my skull for a while, well before the release of the new trailer, and now is a good chance to write up the idea.

Warning: mild anxiety attack

Please note that this is all headcanon based, since the game hasn’t been released yet, haha. Also, there’s some art included!

On with the fic!

“It’s amazing how much stuff is down here.” Audrey commented to the little devil that walked alongside her. “I mean, it’s one thing to find art supplies and some equipment, but a whole little community? A car?”

She laughed a bit in disbelief, and Bendy couldn’t help but to laugh with her, his laughter whistles and wheezes, it was all he could do, he wasn’t allowed a voice.

No, he didn’t have one.

Bendy never talked in the cartoons, hence the lack of a voice.

Yes? Yes.

He grinned, whistling a jaunty tune as the two of them continued to walk the halls, on a mission that Bendy hadn’t paid too much attention to. Audrey listened, she’ll know what to do, he’ll help however he can.

“Oh! I recognize this!”

Bendy stopped, blinking, and looked up at something that caught Audrey’s attention on a wall.

Like many of the hallways, there were posters and framed items, drawings, writings, and scattered sheets of paper peppering the wooden boards. This one was no different, though whatever was framed seemed to have the human’s attention. Bendy made a questioning sound and she looked down.

“Ah, well, in my office, in the-the real world, I have this framed animation cell! It’s an original, I don’t think it was ever actually in a cartoon, a special cell as a gift from Mr. Drew.”

Any time Bendy heard Joey’s name, he felt a twinge in his chest, he hated it.

“The cell’s always been in my office, for as long as I can remember. It’s like a little bit of motivation, you know?” She was smiling at whatever was behind the glass, the lights of the hall reflecting off of it, making it hard for Bendy to get a clear look. He didn’t like being short, made it hard to see some stuff.

“I wonder what it’s doing here.” Audrey frowned. “I bet Wilson brought it down here to taunt me or something.” She sighed and Bendy squeaked, reaching for the frame. “Oh, do you want to look?”

He nodded and she removed it from the wall. “Now, be careful, this was a gift to Mr. Drew from an old friend of his.”

Bendy nodded again and carefully took the frame from her, grinning as he finally got a look at what she had been staring at.

Oh.

It was an animation cell, there was no denying that, including a background to go along with it. The cell contained Boris, Alice, and Bendy himself, looking so happy as the trio walked down a path together.

There was writing down in the corner of the inner frame, protecting the cell and background.

The writing was clear, familiar.

Congratulations on your success!

Your Best Pal,

H-

Hen-

Henry S-

Wait, he knew this name. Knows this name.

Why does-

Who am I now?

“Bendy?”

He could hear Audrey’s voice calling from somewhere far away, muffled by what sounded like rushing water ink in his head.

Alright Joey, I’m here...

A hand was on the frame, gently taking it from his own and he looked up, confused, alarmed. “Bendy, are you alright? Your eye is...”

Blinking, he touched at the side of his face, his fingertips came back coated in runny ink.

Why did she call me Bendy?

What’s going-

He blinked again, rubbing at his leaking eye. Huh, Bendy frowned, confused as to what just happened. He looked up at Audrey, smiling at her, why was she looking concerned?

“Right... should we get moving?” She asked, giving him an awkward smile.

He squeaked, his grin wide. He must have spaced out or something, he didn’t remember anything of what just happened. She put a framed image on the wall and took his hand, the two of them continuing down the hall.

It’s not a trashboatprince au without Henry and/or Bendy having a weird eye.

#bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #batim bendy #batdr bendy #henry stein #batdr audrey #john's art #john's drabbles

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ambrossart · 5 months

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I told myself I wasn’t gonna release another Paper Men preview, and I’m not technically, but…

Come on, look at how cute Evelyn and Henry were as kids! 🥺❤️

____________________________________________

“You have a cut on your face,” the girl said quietly. “Does it hurt?”

“Huh?” Henry touched his hand to the apple of his cheek and felt the ghostly twinge of last night’s wound. “Oh… no.”

“Well, it looks like it hurts.” She looked down at her injured hand and flexed it a few times: opening it, closing it, wiggling all of her fingers. She seemed satisfied enough. “You should put a bandaid on that cut. Or else it could get infected.”

“Infected?”

“Mhm, and that would be really bad… like really bad. You might need an amputation.”

“Am-pyuh-tay-shun?” The word was large and ominous. “What’s that?”

“It’s when the doctor cuts off part of your body. My friend Vic told me about it once. It sounds really scary.”

“They would cut off my face?”

“I guess so.”

Henry tried to imagine that, but he couldn’t.

“I think you’re lying,” he said. “You’re trying to trick me.”

“I’m not lying. I never lie.”

“Everyone lies.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“That’s a lie right there.”

Glaring at him, the girl opened her mouth, closed it, then forced a big huff of hot air through her pouted lips. “Well, you should get one anyway.”

“Get what?”

“A bandaid. Just in case.”

Henry frowned. “I don’t have any bandaids.”

“You don’t? Hmm… well, doesn’t your mom have some?”

Henry’s frown deepened. It hurt too much to think about his mom right now. “I guess she does… or she did… but I don’t know where she keeps them.”

“Oh… My mom keeps ours under the sink in her bathroom. She has a whole case of ‘em. I’m not supposed to go in there ‘cause there’s really dangerous stuff under the sink, chemicals and stuff, but…” She went quiet for a minute, lost in deep contemplation. Then she hopped to her feet. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

Back?

That word made Henry’s whole body tense up. He thought of his mother’s kitchen pantry, of that empty shelf where the chicken stock was supposed to sit, and he drew his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “If you wanna go, just go. You don’t have to make up a lie.”

“What? I’m not lying… I’m gonna go get you a bandaid. Then I’ll come right back.” She turned around, took a few steps, and stopped. “Hey, you’re not gonna leave, are you?”

“Huh?”

“If I come back and you’re not here, I’m gonna be really mad.”

Henry couldn’t imagine her mad, not even a little bit.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said anyway.

“You pinky swear?”

“What?”

“Pinky swear.” She came to him with her pinky out. Henry let her hook it around his. He felt like he had no other choice. “Now you better not be lying,” she said, “or else your pinky will fall off.”

“What?”

She giggled. “Just kidding! My dad says that all the time. It probably won’t happen, but you better keep your promise anyway, just in case.” She released his pinky and stepped back again, her warmth lingering on his skin. “I’ll be back in, uhh, five minutes, okay? Wait right here.”

She took off running and was gone. Henry sat on the curb and waited. Five minutes came, then went. Ten minutes came, then went. With each passing second, he felt his disappointment building, burning, rekindling his forgotten hatred.

Everyone lies. Why did he think she would be any different?

Henry considered leaving himself. A couple times he almost did, but then he looked down at his pinky, remembered his promise, and sat back down. He waited for twenty minutes that day, sure that she was never coming back, scared that she was never coming back, and then he heard her cheerful voice in the distance:

“Mission accomplished!”

She was running and panting and lugging a giant plastic case along by the handle. She had gone to get a bandaid and came back with her mother’s first aid kit.

“Why’d you bring the whole thing?” Henry asked, marveling at her.

“I didn’t know what size to get.”

Turns out, the girl wasn’t a liar, after all. She just had no concept of time.

She sat down beside him, caught her breath, popped open the case, and started pulling out bandaids and comparing them against the size of Henry’s cut. “Too big… too big… way too big… hmm…” She held up a tiny yellow bandaid and gasped excitedly, her brown eyes sparkling in the sun. “Yeah, this one! This one’s perfect.” While unwrapping it, she said, “These are my favorite bandaids, but you can have one. I don’t mind.”

She pressed it gently to his cheek. It almost felt like a kiss.

“There,” she said. “You should be okay now.”

Henry felt his face get weirdly hot, but not unpleasantly so. “They won’t cut my face off?”

“I hope not.” The girl smiled at him, a sunny, perfect smile, and Henry’s face got even hotter. “I’m Evelyn, but you can call me Evie if you want. Most people do.”

“Okay.”

Evelyn giggled. It was sweet and disarming. “You’re supposed to say your name now.”

“Oh…” Henry reached down to pick at the dirt on his black sneakers. Hers were white, filthy, and had been doodled all over with colored markers.

“It’s Henry,” he said. “My name’s Henry.”

#okay this is basically a preview #bowers gang #henry bowers #it stephen king #it movie #it 2017 #it fanfiction #paper men #ambrossart

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yyumemika · 2 months

Text

Ougonten: Registry of Dragons Part Six

Registry of Dragons: Part Six

Winter

(Several days later)

Mitsuru: I’m back~! Fresh baked bread is waiting for me!

Aira: Ufufu. There’s a lot of tasty looking bread. I’ve been looking forward to eating it too…♪

The selection in that bakery was so good. I might go again in the future♪

Mitsuru: Ehehe, I’m happy you like it. I’m glad I invited Ai-chan!

Aira: Tenma-senpai bought so much bread, are you sure we can really eat all this?

Mitsuru: Don’t worry! You don’t have to eat a lot. Because this is my reward for working hard on my book report!

Aira: Book report huh. Come to think of it, I handed in my homework today too.

Tenma-senpai, what did you write your report on?

Mitsuru: I read a short story that Hajime-chan picked out for me. He picked something that was easy for me to understand.

Aira: Hmm.. A book Shino-senpai picked out, huh.

I wonder if I should consult Shino-senpai and get him to recommend some books too. Let’s go see him after this♪

Mitsuru: In that case, let’s hurry up and eat this bread. It’ll get cold!

Aira: Okay. Before we eat I’ll brew some tea♪ If it’s bread we’re having I should make black tea.

Mika: Ah, Mitsuru-kun and Shiratori-kun. I’m back~

Mitsuru: Mikanii-chan! Welcome back~!

Aira: Kagehira-senpai, would you like some tea with us? We have some delicious bread too.

Mika: Can I? I’d love some. I got something I want ya two to see.

Mitsuru: Something you want us to see? What is it, I’m curious!

Mika: I thought I’d put it in ma bag but… Oh, found it.

Whaddya both think of this?

Mitsuru: Awesome! This costume design is really great!

Aira: This is a rough costume design, right? Uwah, It’s amazing that I get to see Kagehira-senpai’s brand new design!

This costume is something that hasn’t been seen with “Valkyrie” yet…

Is this costume perhaps going to be used in “Valkyrie”’s next live?

Mika: Ah, sorry fer gettin’ ya hopes up. This costume ain’t fer any lives. I drew this to help me relax.

Ya see, there was somethin’ the other day about a short story. Regardin’ what happened, I thought up a good design and tried drawin’ it.

Aira: Short story? What are you talking about?

Mitsuru: Is that about the story where Mikanii-chan became a God?

Aira: Eh!? What do you mean Kagehira-senpai became a God?

Mika: Ahaha… The truth is, a short story that made me a God kinda went viral on the net.

Aira: There’s really a story like that!? Uwah, I can’t believe I missed it.

Mika: Ahaha. Well, it’s a fanfiction.

Even I read it all the way through. Although, it was real embarrassin’ bein’ treated like a God.

After all, I was given a fancy name like “Ougonten” and made into a golden dragon.

What kinda thoughts did they have to come up with turnin’ me into a dragon?

Aira: Eh, Kagehira-senpai as a golden dragon…

Hm? A golden dragon called “Ougonten”...

Mika: What’s up, Shiratori-kun?

Aira: Umm, just give me a moment, I was able to do a lot of research…

…

Mitsuru: What’s wrong Ai-chan!? You look really pale. Are you feeling sick?

Aira: No, it’s a bit late now but I’ve just realised something bad…

Umm, was the name of the golden dragon that Kagehira-senpai turned into “Ougonten”...?

Mika: Yeah. What’s really the matter?

Aira: —Kagehira-senpai, I’m sorry!

T-The person that started calling Kagehira-senpai “Ougonten”... Was me!

Mika: Eh!? Then, are ya the one that wrote the story about me turnin’ into a God too, Shiratori-kun?

Aira: I didn’t write it! All I did was post my impressions on SNS after watching “The Mechanical God”!

At that time Kagehira-senpai was so Godly. The money that Senpai was scattering looked like dragon scales…

‘He’s like a dragon God~!’ I thought, and so the name “Ougonten” came about.

Mika: I-I see. So, why “Ougonten”? It’s a bit of a flashy name.

Aira: Well, when you think of money and Gods, doesn’t Daikokuten come to mind? So you modify that slightly and you get “Ougonten” *

*T/N: Daikokuten has the literal translation of “great dark sky” and Ougonten “golden sky”. Daikokuten is one of the ‘seven lucky Gods’ and originated from the hindu deity Shiva. The name comes from a translation of the Buddhist name for the God Makahala. Daikokuten is the God of wealth and prosperity.

Aira: At the time, Kagehira was really sparkling and shining with all that money.

Mika: Come to think of it, when I talked to Shiratori-kun about it earlier, ya said somethin’ similar.

That’s right. The comment Shiratori-kun posted back then must’ve been the start of it all.

Aira: Yeah. That’s why… If I made you remember something unpleasant I’m sorry!

Mika: Ya don’t gotta apologise. I don’t really mind anymore.

Aira: R-Really?

Mika: Yup. Because of Shiratori-kun, I was able to make this costume design.

This experience has given me a lotta inspiration, and I’ve come up with a lotta creative ideas~♪

Aira: That’s a relief~ I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d caused trouble for Kagehira-senpai…

Mitsuru: Hey hey, Mikanii-chan. Have you shown that costume design to Anzunee-chan?

Mika: Eh, show this to Anzu-chan? But I just drew this while I was messin’ around to help me relax.

Mitsuru: But this design is especially good, it’d be a waste to leave it like this!

Aira: That’s right! You showed us this design because Kagehira-senpai wanted someone to see it, right?

Mika: …I guess. Honestly, maybe it is good enough t’ show it off.

But, if I’m gonna show it to Anzu-chan there are still parts I wanna clean up. I gotta raise the quality, otherwise I can’t let Oshisan see it.

Mitsuru: Ooh, that’s our Mikanii-chan. The costume is gonna get even cooler, right?

Aira: I wonder what kinda design is going to come out, I’m kinda excited♪ When it’s finished you have to show us.

Mika: ‘Course I will! Thank ya both fer patting me on the back.

When the design’s finished, I’ll come show it to ya, so wait fer me♪

#ensemble stars #enstars #mika kagehira #mitsuru tenma #aira shiratori #translation #english translation

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spartanguard · 2 years

Text

most wanted (11/11) [CSSNS21]

Summary: Killian Jones has been tracking Emma Swan, notorious cat burglar, across the realm as she’s wanted for murder. The sooner he finds her, the faster he gets back to his daughter. But meeting an enchanting lass in a small village—along with Miss Swan’s feline familiar (perhaps too familiar)—definitely affects his plans; this case might not be as open-and-shut as he’d like.

A/N: Ahhh we're finally here! The last chapter! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this adventure and for all your lovely comments!! Hope you enjoy this final part! Forever thanks to the best beta ever @optomisticgirl and to @cssns for putting on the event each year, even if I am so far behind here.

“And then I’m all yours,” Emma purred, putting her arms around Neal’s neck even though her wrists were still cuffed. “I love you, baby.”

“Aww, I love you too,” Neal replied, though it was clear his heart wasn’t fully in it—he just loved that he was getting his way.

Emma, though—for all that Killian had learned to read her, her skills in deceit were expert and he’d obviously been wrong about her before, even when he had all his faculties (which he didn’t have at the moment, pain still blurring his vision).

So he wasn’t sure who she was lying to: Neal…or him.

And the way she was pressing her body against Neal suggested the latter.

But he couldn’t do anything about it kneeling in the dust. However, when he shifted to stand, a couple of Neal’s thugs were immediately on him, grabbing his biceps and forcing him to stay down.

That drew Neal’s attention, even though Emma’s lips had been suspiciously close to his. “So, got any ideas on what to do with him?”

Emma shrugged. “Whatever you want; I don’t care.” She was looking straight at him with a look bordering on contempt. It hurt more than he cared to admit.

Neal stepped back from Emma and guided her shackled wrists over his head—though he held them a moment and pressed a kiss to the back of a hand, to which Emma gave a girlish giggle. It was easy to see how he’d charmed her in the first place, even if it was somewhat performative. (Killian would know; he’d done that move a million times—including to her.)

“We'll have you out of those things soon,” Neal told her, nodding at the cuffs. “But hold onto this in the meantime.” And handed her the gun, which she didn’t hesitate to take, quickly moving her finger to the trigger. Either Neal was an idiot, or Killian had been well and truly duped.

Neal turned his attention back to Killian, pulling out a pocketknife from his trousers before kneeling in front of him. “Who knew I’d get the satisfaction of killing the man who ruined my family twice?” he taunted, making a show of flipping the switchblade open. “I should have known I was off; the other guy went down too easily—had no idea what I was talking about. Figured he just forgot. But you—you look like you’d put up more of a fight. Like you took her as some sort of trophy, I bet; is that it? You just love to tear families apart?”

“No,” Killian snapped back. “I told you—I loved her.”

Neal ignored him. “That guy was pretty, but you’re prettier…I can see why my mom was taken in. It’d be a shame if something happened to that face.” He struck out with the blade at Killian’s cheek, slicing a thin but deep line that made Killian hiss in pain; he could feel warm blood running down his face almost immediately.

“But you probably need your neck more, huh?” Neal went on, pressing the knife against Killian’s jugular. It wasn’t the first time Killian had been in that position, but it had been a while, and the determination in Neal’s eyes made him think he was most likely to actually do it.

“Let me guess—you thought you were gonna take Emma, too? Some knight in shining armor deal?”

“Why would I want someone I was trying to arrest?” he said, feigning disinterest.

“Same reason you took the wife of a man you’d later arrest,” Neal countered, putting more pressure on the blade; Killian tried to move his neck away, but only had so much room to move. “Do you get off on the power or something? And then just toss them aside when you’re done?”

“Is that what your father told you?”

“He said you charmed her away from us, and then let her die when you got bored with her.”

“He lied,” Killian insisted, hoping an emotional plea might get Neal to stand down. “We fell in love, and we ran off together. Your father was too much of a coward to tell you the truth. And she didn’t just die—he killed her. He tore out her heart and crushed it in front of me. I did vow revenge for that, and I achieved it when I arrested him. But believe me, I was just as heartbroken at losing her as you.”

An array of emotions played across Neal’s face at what was apparently a revelation. It was to be expected, really, and the look that finally settled in place was a familiar one—one he’d worn so often as a scared, lonely boy.

“She abandoned me?” he said in a small voice, and for a moment, the scared young boy that he must have been once showed through.

“Not a single day went past where your mother didn't regret leaving you. But you have to understand just how unhappy she was.”

“No!” Neal shouted back, looking away. “You’re still lying! None of this is true! She loved us and you took her!” To emphasize his denial, he pressed even harder with the knife, and Killian could feel the sharp edge start to cut into his skin.

“A person’s not an object, mate; and I’m a bounty hunter, not a kidnapper. Trust me, I have no need to engage in any such deception to get a woman in my bed. Perhaps your father should have taken better care of his partners; perhaps you should, too.”

“Or what—you’ll steal her away, too?” Neal scoffed. “Didn’t you hear, though? She still loves me.”

Killian didn’t have a retort for that. That was beside the point right now, though. He would get over Emma’s double crossing; it might take some time, but he would. But he couldn’t let whatever heartache he was feeling prevent him from fighting to get back to Alice.

However—the blade was still cutting into his neck, blood likely staining his collar by now, and any move he could make to free him from his captors’ hold would only increase his chance at mortal injury.

“Not anymore, asshole.”

Emma’s voice drew the attention of both him and Neal, and before either could truly acknowledge her presence, she took the butt end of the pistol and, with the full force of both hands, smacked it down on Neal’s temple.

He swayed for a moment, dropping his knife, and then collapsed on the ground, unconscious.

Killian stared agape, too stunned to even appreciate the fact that Neal’s cronies had loosened their grip on him, likely equally surprised by the turn of events.

“Sorry,” Emma said, staring right at him. “I just couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

Killian blinked a moment. “Sorry for what? I’m not the one who’ll be waking with a splitting headache,” he replied, nodding at Neal and trying (and failing) to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Oh, Killian—no,” she insisted—though what she meant, he wasn’t sure. She stepped over Neal’s comatose body and dropped to her knees in front of him. “I meant—all of it,” she explained. “I was just doing whatever I could to make sure he didn’t hurt you. Though I guess I didn’t do the best job,” she lamented, then grabbed her skirt and tried to dab the blood off his face.

But that didn’t concern him at the moment, so he stilled her hands with his. “So—you were playing him? About all of that?”

She almost looked angry. “Of course I was! You really think I’d go running back to that dick? Especially after everything that’s happened between us—-after this morning?” she added quietly.

“Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain?”

“No,” she conceded, and blotted up some of the blood on his neck. “Gods, these are gonna leave scars.”

“It’s alright, love,” he assured her. “I’m fine—and I’m so glad you were lying.”

She grinned at him, but it quickly switched to a look of alarm as another voice interrupted. “And I’m glad he was telling the truth—at least, I presume so.”

Killian’s midsection was still incredibly sore, particularly on one side near his ribs, but he managed to sit and turn around to face the newcomer—and smiled. “Nemo.”

The older man wore an equally warm expression as he approached, which was also when Killian realized no one else was with them—Neal’s goons had ran off, clearly showing the (lack of) loyalty their boss inspired.

“Are you alright, my friend?” Nemo asked when he reached them, gingerly placing a hand of comfort on Killian’s shoulder.

“I’ve had worse days,” he replied, attempting to keep things light, even if the ache was settling in more as adrenaline faded.

Nemo patted his shoulder in a paternal move that seemed to say “we’ll talk later” before looking over at Emma. “And this must be the elusive Miss Swan?”

Emma looked somewhat panicked at being identified. “Aye, that she is,” Killian confirmed, reaching over to grab her hand and give a comforting squeeze. “Emma, this is Nemo, my boss.”

“I didn’t kill anyone, I swear,” she quickly blurted out, only to be met with a chuckle from Nemo.

“So I heard,” he answered. “And you can pin this fellow on other crimes?”

“Oh yeah,” Emma confirmed. “If you’re still looking for whoever robbed the bank in Franklintown last year, that’s him right there. Well, and me,” she confessed, “but I don’t care; I’ll tell you everything, even if it’s self-incriminating. I just didn’t do that.”

“In that case, I just might know a sympathetic judge who’ll be receptive to your story,” Nemo replied with a wink.

“You heard that, too?” Killian asked, impressed.

“Aye, almost all of it. I saw what happened outside the office, and followed as quickly as I could. This isn’t the most solid building; there were plenty of spots to spy from.”

“Yeah, Neal’s never been great at picking the best hideouts,” Emma added.

“Nor very original, I gather; we make at least one bust a month here. We knew where you were headed right away.”

Before either of them could ask who “we” was, an officer Killian had worked with on occasion—Billy, he thought was his name—popped his head in the open door. “We’ve got these guys, boss; want help with that one?” he asked, nodding at Neal.

“Yes, please,” Nemo replied, both polite and commanding in a way only he could manage. “I don’t think Jones here is going to be much help. We’d best get you to a surgeon,” he added in a quieter voice.

“Gods, I’m really so sorry, Killian,” Emma said again, trying in vain to staunch the sluggish flow of blood from the cut on his cheek.

“It’s done, love; we’ll both live to fight another day. But could you help me up?”

She nodded and smiled, though tears were brimming at her eyes. It was awkward, with the way her hands were still tied, but she managed to support his left arm enough that he could rise without jostling his painful right side too much. That also gave room for Billy and another officer (Jack, maybe?) to come in for Neal, who roused slightly, but only enough to get his feet under him.

Emma let him continue to lean on her and helped him shuffle outside, where the door was slamming on one prisoner wagon, but another waited, empty; Nemo stood beside the open back end.

“I guess that’s my ride,” she tried to joke, but its presence was anything but a laughing matter. This was it.

“Thank you for believing me,” she continued, turning to face him, “and for everything you’ve done. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to repay you—”

“You don’t have to, love,” he interjected, reaching up to wipe a tear that was starting to track down her cheek. “‘Twas my pleasure—all of it. And thank you for trusting me.”

Emma sniffed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, so—”

“You will.”

“I hope so,” she agreed, more optimistic than he’d yet heard from her. “Send my love to Alice and Belle.”

“I’ll do that.”

“And…gods,” she stammered. Her head fell, but then she stepped closer, closing what little space had remained between them and placing her hands on his chest before looking back up. “I'm not a tearful goodbye kiss person. But maybe just this once.”

Then she rose up on her toes and placed a deep kiss against his lips, one which he didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, despite his injuries. It was bittersweet—filled with the tenderness and sweetness of a new relationship but aching with an air of finality.

He held her as tight against him as he dared, even when they eventually broke apart for air. If this was the last moment they’d have for an unknown amount of time, they were going to savor it.

At least—until she shifted and hit his sore spot, making him suck in a breath in pain.

“Dammit—sorry,” she cursed, and stepped back a bit.

“With any luck, that will be all healed up next time you see me,” he promised her (through strained breaths).

He could see a quip on the edge of her tongue, but she bit it back. “Will you write?” she settled on.

“Absolutely.”

“Although—I don’t know where I’ll end up.”

“Nemo will.”

“Okay.” She glanced over her shoulder at the man in question. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep him waiting any more. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Emma. See you soon.”

She gave him another sad smile, a quick peck on the cheek, and then walked away from him, toward her fate.

Nemo, ever the gentleman, helped her get up into the back of the wagon, closed (and locked) the door, and hit the side of the wagon to let the officers know they were free to drive away.

The wagons started slow, but then began their amble down the dusty alley to the jail a few blocks away. He watched as long as he could, until they turned the corner back to the high street.

He still needed to wrap up his paperwork back at the office, get examined by the local surgeon (and likely get some stitches), and find out if his preferred inn had a bed available; he didn’t have the energy for half the things on that list, let alone the ride back to Meryton.

He also needed to collect the bounty on Emma, which was going to feel like a hollow prize now, considering he’d much rather have her.

But the biggest thing on his mind as he watched the wagon slip out of sight was wondering how much he would regret not telling her he loved her.

Alas. It would have to wait. At least he was a patient man.

He limped over to Roger and mounted him, then headed off to take care of business. And to distract himself from the growing heartache in his chest.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Eleven months later

Killian checked his pocketwatch for the umpteenth time and impatiently shifted his weight from side to side. He was on time—he always was—but would his mark be?

To say he’d thrown himself into work to fill the void Emma had left in his life wouldn’t exactly be accurate, but it wasn’t wholly untrue, either. Once he got home after the events in Longbourn, he spent a few months laying low and recuperating from what ended up being a couple cracked ribs, in addition to the lacerations. It was some much-needed down time with Alice that he hadn’t had in far too long, and they began to plot their big vacation.

They hadn’t gone just yet, though, as work had come calling again, not to mention his own restlessness. To be fair, he only took short assignments that never took him too far from home, but they were more frequent than they had been in the past, though generally simpler (and safer).

That was probably Nemo’s doing as much as anything; the man’s paternal instincts ran deep and he’d fretted about Killian nearly as much as Belle and Alice had, though obviously from afar.

But this—this was his biggest task yet, and he didn’t dare mess it up. Not that he often did, of course, but he was extra careful about being taken by surprise nowadays.

The street was fairly empty, thankfully, so no one paid much notice to him and Roger, waiting by the hitching post and staring at the building across the street. It was one of the quieter corners of town, on the far edge of Longbourn, but he knew his intel was good. He just felt like he’d already been waiting enough, though yet another check of his watch told him that only another minute had passed.

The door of the building he was watching swung open and he stood at attention—but the young man who walked out wasn’t who he was after; not even close.

What was the holdup? He went digging in his bag for the telegram Nemo had sent with the details, wanting to check again that he had the correct hour—that he hadn’t misread—even though he probably had the note memorized by now.

Of course, it said the present time, just like he knew it did. He sighed and shoved it back in the hidden pocket within the saddle bag, next to some other letters.

He turned back towards the street, leaned against Roger, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He was being irrational. He was too mature to act like this; everything would happen when it was supposed to.

Which was apparently now.

“Killian?”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and tilted his head forward. In the back of his mind, he hoped it was a move that looked casual and confident, even though his heart rate suddenly ticked up.

Because Emma stood just across the dirt lane from him, at the bottom of the steps coming from the kingdom’s womens’ prison.

The first thing he noticed was her shocked expression—perhaps not the reaction he’d hoped for, but not entirely unexpected. Otherwise, she looked—well, a bit tired, a bit wan, and her cream dress hung a bit loose on her frame. She’d also cut her hair to about chin length, and it was back to its natural blonde.

But she’d always look beautiful to him, and he couldn’t help but grin.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, taking a tentative step toward him. “Are…are you on a case?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he replied casually (though in tone only; he was actually restraining himself). “I thought you might prefer a ride, versus whatever other transportation plans you may have had upon release.”

She checked both ways before crossing the empty street, but still stopped several feet away from him. “How did you know I was getting out today? I didn’t even know until a few days ago; there’s no way you could have gotten my letter that fast.”

True to his word, he’d kept up communication with her as much as he was able; her replies were infrequent but cherished, and currently stashed in his saddle bag. “Nemo wired me,” he explained.

“That was kind of him,” she replied politely, though she seemed unsure at what that meant. Hopefully she realized that Nemo was the one who kept Killian in the loop and even made it possible for him to contact her while locked up; prisoner locations weren’t generally public knowledge and she certainly didn’t have his home address.

(Nemo had also gently teased Killian any time they met in person about his crush, which Killian took as a stamp of approval.)

“Well, you helped bring down a wanted killer. It was the least he could do.”

Emma blushed and looked down, but it was true: her testimony not only sent Neal away on the aforementioned murder charges, but also a string of other unsolved robberies that she was able to pin on him, and a few other accomplices.

She began to wring her hand around her wrist, which was when he noticed: the magic-blocking cuff was still there. “Oh, love—let me get that,” he said, then held out his hand to her, hoping she’d take it.

She did, albeit hesitantly, and he had to make a point to ignore the spark at contact. He gently guided her hand onto his hook and slipped the cuff off; the skin beneath was even paler than she was and slightly calloused, but she sighed in relief as soon as it was off. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry that it took so long to come off. It’s a clever, albeit cruel, trick of the thing that only the person who puts it on can remove it.”

“And they definitely wouldn’t have let you take it off before I was taken in.”

“Alas, no.”

A slightly awkward silence settled over them as she rolled her newly freed wrist; he tried not to wince at the audible pop it made.

“Oh, I have something that might make that feel better,” he said, and turned back to the saddle bag, digging through for a well-hidden bundle. “This is yours.” He presented the small, but important, package to her.

She untied the string holding it together, and then her eyes went wide when the fabric fell open “What…hold on, is this…?”

“Half of your bounty,” he confirmed.

“No, Killian—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he insisted. “Half is more than enough for me, but I can hardly leave you penniless and fresh out of jail.”

“I’d get by,” she said defiantly.

“I know. I have no doubt you would thrive. But I wanted to help ensure it.”

She worried her bottom lip. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I like the hair,” he went on, hoping to somewhat change the subject from the past to at least the present. “It’s nice to see your natural coloring.”

“Thanks,” she replied, still shyly, and tucked a bit behind her ear. “The brown was looking weird as it grew out, so one of the girls in there just cut it off for me. I’m still getting used to it being so short, though.”

“It frames your face nicely,” he couldn’t help but add.

She smiled up at him through her lashes, but her face suddenly fell and she practically jumped into his space.

“Oh gods—your cheek,” she lamented, reaching up to brush the new scar that crossed his face. “I didn’t realize that cut was so deep; I’m so—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he told her. “It wasn’t your fault. And it’s all healed now. Frankly, I think it makes me look rather dashing,” he only half joked, with a terrible wink.

She giggled and rolled her eyes, but continued to cup his face. “I missed you,” she admitted.

He knew she was taking a risk with that confession—showing her hand, baring part of her heart to him. And he appreciated it more than he knew how to express.

He hoped the fact that he had made the effort to be here expressed how he felt, but in case she hadn’t picked up on that, “I missed you too, love. Quite a lot.”

They were very close—close enough that he could easily pull her into his embrace, find her lips with his, but he didn’t want to push her too far too fast.

She seemed to be thinking about it too, though, if the way her eyes darted back up to his from the vicinity of his mouth was anything to go by. But then her stomach growled exceptionally loud, breaking the moment.

“Come on,” he chuckled. “I’m sure you could use a real meal.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I know a good diner not far from here. It’s not Granny’s, but it’s better than average.”

“Sounds amazing. Do you have to head out after that?”

It was obvious what she was doing: testing the waters to see if he was really there for her or not.

“Depends. Where do you want to go?”

“Well, I was given the address to a halfway house in town, so I had planned on heading there,” she started, and he hoped his face didn’t fall as quickly as his heart descended into his stomach.

“I can take you there, if you wish,” he offered.

“See…my plan, though, was to write and let you know where I was, then see what kind of response I got from you before making any other decisions. So you kind of made me skip that step,” she said with a teasing smirk.

“Are you complaining?”

“No, of course not. You saved me the postage.” Her winks were a lot better than his—but more, it was fun to banter with her again.

“And what kind of response were you hoping for?”

“Something like this,” she shrugged. “Westley coming for Buttercup and stealing her away. Unless…you didn’t…”

“I did,” he confirmed, then swallowed, suddenly nervous again. “It’s just…been a while,” he said, scratching behind his ear. “And I wanted to make sure that’s what you wanted, too. I didn’t want to assume anything.”

“I appreciate that,” she said, then stepped closer to him again and put her hands on his shoulders. “And that’s what I love about you.”

Killian blinked for a moment; he hadn’t expected that. But then he realized she was watching his reaction, and a grin quickly and involuntarily spread across his face. “I love you, too, Emma. I’ve regretted not telling you since the day we parted.”

“Jail cannot stop true love; all it can do is delay it for a while,” she paraphrased. (He may have read their new favorite book with Alice several times over the past year.)

He could probably have come up with a responding quip, but there’d be time for that later; right now, he just really, desperately needed to kiss her—and did so, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pressing his lips against hers firmly.

It somehow felt both new and familiar at the same time, which was probably appropriate—even if he knew Emma and his feelings for her, they actually had a chance now to give things a shot; to take a step forward together.

Eventually, they broke apart to take a breath, but stayed close—as they walked to the diner, while they ate, and as they mounted Roger and headed out; he intentionally took a route out of town that avoided the warehouse where they’d last been together.

“So where are we going?” she asked as they started to leave Longbourn.

He simply answered, “Home.”

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

That night, they stopped in Meryton to rest. He made a point to find a nicer inn than the first time they had been there—but they did continue their train of thought from that night, so perhaps not a lot of rest was had. At least no one seemed to judge their late exit the following morning, or the shy, but knowing grins they continued to exchange through breakfast.

The day’s ride saw them enjoying the late summer sun as well as each other’s presence, Emma almost constantly leaning back against him with a relaxed smile on her face.

At some point, though, she noticed the difference in the amount of time they’d spent on the road versus their last trip, and most likely the difference in surroundings. “Where are we really going?” she asked as they stopped for dinner by another of the many roadside firepits he was familiar with.

“I told you—home.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, but any further concerns fell silent in lieu of kissing (among other things). (This particular fire pit was imbued with a cloaking spell that made it invisible if it was occupied; they definitely took advantage of that fact.)

And after another long day of riding, they approached some familiar surroundings late in the afternoon the following day. When Emma realized where they were, she turned around and grinned at him.

Much like when they left last year, the residents of Storybrooke gaped at them as they rode into town. Killian could only imagine what tall tales the rumor mill had spun after their unceremonious departure—and wondered how much of it Granny and Ruby set to rights.

And he was sure they’d find out shortly; they’d hardly even reached the hitching post outside the inn before Emma was halfway off the horse. It was midafternoon, so thankfully they’d arrived in between meal rushes and had a chance at a proper reunion.

She at least waited for him to tie up Roger before running through the saloon doors ahead of him, and sudden screams and squeals of laughter and joy greeted him once he followed her inside.

Emma and Ruby were wrapped in a tight embrace next to the bar, which looked just the same as it had the last time he was here, though maybe bearing a few more scuffs. And Granny was on her way out of the kitchen to join the group hug, so Killian continued to hang back, not wanting to intrude—and knowing full well that the both of them were likely to fawn and dote on him in a matter of minutes.

He also had a question for them: did—?

“Papa! You’re here!!”

The question couldn’t even finish in his mind before Alice was tackling him about the midsection. He huffed a bit—his ribs were fully healed but still had their tender spots—but didn’t hesitate to return the hug.

“So are you, starfish; I was worried I may have beaten you here.” She’d been growing like a weed the last year and was nearly up to his shoulder now.

“Never! I did all the navigation—all by myself!”

“Is that so?”

“Well…Aunt Belle helped a little.”

“I see.”

“Only a little though,” the woman in question added, coming from the direction of the stairs to the boarding rooms.

“Alice? Belle?” Emma had stepped away from Ruby and was looking at the other reunion. “What are you…?”

“We’re here to see you!” Alice exclaimed, and promptly threw herself at Emma, then started to talk her ear off about…oh, everything.

Granny quickly prepared a feast in a way only she could, and they all sat down to catch up with one another; it turned out Ruby was now engaged and she was quick to announce that Granny had taken a paramour as well—a fact which made the older woman scold her salacious granddaughter…while blushing.

Alice was exceptionally taken with Emma’s natural hair color, especially because “It looks just like mine!” A fact she emphasized with a knowing look in Killian’s direction. Though she’d obviously never lacked for parental figures, the fact that her hair color was so dramatically different from his and Belle’s dark hues he knew occasionally bothered her. So he was pointedly ignoring her implication that she should have someone around she resembled in that department, even if it was far more likely to happen then she realized.

And after several days spent in town, actually on vacation this time, they settled into something resembling a life. There was a cottage for sale just a short walk outside of Storybrooke—right on the water, like the one Alice grew up in—and Emma immediately purchased it with her share of the reward money and insisted they stay any time they wanted. Which ended up being all the time.

Storybrooke wasn’t the most convenient town as far as staying connected with Killian’s office in Longbourn, but there was a village just to the south that was on the telegraph network, so it wasn’t uncommon for he and whichever lady in his life felt like it to take Roger for a bit of a ride to check messages.

Killian also continued to take fewer jobs, so he could spend more time with Alice—who flourished in their new town, attending the local school and making friends. More even than adventure, that was all he wanted for her, so he ended up turning over much of his part of the reward to Belle so she could go on a solo trip. (She tried to refuse, but he wouldn’t hear it; and the postcards she sent back were incredibly gorgeous.)

Emma became Killian’s partner in crime, so to speak��or rather, the opposite of it. Her feline side proved invaluable at times in conducting reconnaissance, and she just had a knack for finding people, to the point that she received the occasional solo assignment; Killian had been correct in his assessment of Nemo’s positive view towards her. (And then he teased Killian for not proposing yet. He did get there, though—in the middlemist meadow, on a date that closely resembled their first.)

Roughly a year after they returned to Storybrooke, they were attending Ruby’s wedding to Dorothy—Emma was the maid of honor, and Alice was the flower girl. It was a raucous party like the town hadn’t seen in ages, but exhilarating, and the best part was the shared looks of pure joy on the newlyweds’ faces.

“Guess that’ll be us next, huh?” Emma asked as they sat on a bench along the wall of Granny’s, catching their breaths after dancing.

“I would assume so,” he replied, taking her left hand in his right and observing the way his mother’s ring sat perfectly upon her finger. “Unless you’re having second thoughts; then I might have to see what Granny’s up to.”

“Don’t even joke—you know she’d take you up on it.” (Doubtful, with the way the old wolf currently was resting her head on her beau’s shoulder.) “You’re stuck with me, Captain.”

“Damn,” he said dryly, clearly not complaining.

They took advantage of the quiet moment to share a cuddle of their own, and he took in his surroundings: Alice was playing with her friends, Belle was dancing with the fellow she’d been seeing, and the woman he loved—despite their strange and almost impossible start—was in his arms.

Though it didn’t follow any path he’d ever expected, he seemed to be living out his own sort of fairy tale adventure, and even if it was unconventional, it was perfect in its own way.

Emma let out a happy sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. “What?” he had to ask.

“I'm just... happy,” she explained. “It still surprises me sometimes.”

“Aye, love. Me, too.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “And that’ll be us soon enough,” he added, nodding at the newlyweds, “and we can spend all our days living out our happy ending.”

Emma hummed and smiled. “I can’t wait. But I’m not sure about that term—happy ending. It’s not really an ending, is it?”

“I suppose not,” he had to agree. “What should we call it then?”

“How about…a happy beginning?”

“As you wish.”

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

thanks for reading! tags: @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @winterbythesea @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa-default @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke @deckerstarblanche

#cs ff #cssns 2021 #cssns21 #wish kj ff #most wanted #my ff

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inkdemonapologist · 2 years

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I was wondering, what are your thoughts and opinions on Thomas Connor? And Scott if you've read TLO?

Oh man. THATS PRETTY BROAD, THIS WILL BE, UH, A LONG ANSWER!! Thomas Connor is REALLY POTENTIALLY INTERESTING in TLO, too… like, he’s being affected by the Ink, right? That’s what’s happening? That’s why he’s still working on this dang machine and can’t seem to articulate the “why” to his girlfriend? ANYWAY,

I’ll start with Scott because: I don’t have a lot of thoughts about Scott! He’s fine. Neat that there’s more GENT folks than just Thomas. I like his horrible driving. He lost his mind pretty generically so that wasn’t really compelling to me. THATS IT, THATS ALL I HAVE FOR SCOTT.

Thomas Connor as a human is the more intriguing version of him to me, though his portrayal is, uh, sort of all over the place? A lot of BatIM interpretation involves taking the things that the different characters say about each other and sort of adding up a cobbled-together picture of what they might’ve been like and how they might’ve interacted with each other, but if you try to add Thomas up this way it’s even more of a mess than Sammy is imo.

There’s a pretty solid characterisation for a bunch of it – he has this great, tired, Tech Support Guy Trying To Explain For The Fifth Time Why An Email Can’t Physically Deliver Cash energy that I love, grumbling about how corners are being cut and Mr. Drew is asking the impossible, but he’s also regretfully complicit as the person who understands best what they’ve done, getting a bad feeling about it all in the BatDR tape, haunted by what he’s created in DCTL, and flipping back and forth between desperately justifying his work on the machine and growling that he really, REALLY ought to destroy it in TLO. I genuinely like his characterisation in the novels; I ran into a comment on tiktok once describing him as “the only valid man” in DCTL and I think about that CONSTANTLY LMAO. Rough and intimidating and demanding but with a sense of… responsibility and duty that few characters in BatIM have, smothered into inaction by his conflicted feelings.

Also, like, Thomas has PTSD, right, from serving in the war? That’s why he gets so tense every time anyone touches him unexpectedly? It never explicitly says this but it was the way I immediately read that detail.

But then when you try to put everything together, it doesn’t add up. The ink seems way more out of control for his BatIM audiologs than it is in DCTL, yet he just grumbles about doing jobs for Joey like he’s casually annoyed at his boss, and his report about creating Bendy doesn’t have any of the recognition or horror of what he’s done, just a sort of a “huh, that’s kinda spooky” vibe, which is strange held up against how much turmoil he’s obviously feeling in DCTL. And then what’s going on with the BatDS audiologs? Are we meant to see Thomas as the toolbelt thief in Shawn’s, because that sure doesn’t match, uh, ANYTHING else we know about him??? Thinking you can just wear the thing you stole to the place you stole it from is either stupidly self-centered or deliberate bullying, and both are so hard to reconcile with what we know of Thomas that “some other Gent employee we’ve never seen did that” honestly makes more sense. Thomas comandeering the coat closet and claiming it’s a “laboratory” is less wildly outlandish but like, still weird to try to mash into everything else we know about him?

It just feels like, while there’s the broad strokes of an interesting character here, the creators have never really nailed down who he is behind the scenes, so with every new piece of information he just becomes whoever they want him to be in that moment, rather than new pieces of info revealing this person’s character.

Thomas Connor as a toon is… I don’t care for him.

On the surface, it seems like he should appeal – gruff guy who knows more than the others but, frustratingly, can’t communicate it? THATS MY KINDA TROPE! But Tom makes so little sense and has so little reason to be here that it’s hard for me to really get invested.

There’s no reason, narratively, for Tom to even be Thomas Connor instead of a random badass Boris. Him remembering his name is potentially interesting, but doesn’t go anywhere; he’s just defined by being Aggressive and Tough and overprotective of Allison in a way that would raise red flags in any human relationship. We don’t know what it is he knows, or what he wants, or what he thinks Henry is. There’s no personal connection to his human self – his knowledge of the Machine or the Demon or any of the things he really should have strong opinions about – but there’s not a strong contrast with him, either; still just grumpy and irritable, but now he’s met with an unfortunate fate. I’m not convinced that there was ever any mystery or motive intended behind the Connors – it seems more like they were added to the last chapter just to make sure we still had a Boris and an Alice in the game after the other ones were killed off, and their main distinguishing quality was “they’re sooooo badass, isn’t that cool and ironic for toons to be?”

Anyway, I've seen fan stuff (New Soul AU, La Vie En Noir) that takes them at face value and makes it compelling, but my favourite take on them is that they’re kind of putting on an act. Both Allison and Tom read as being so, like, tropey in a generic way – the things they say and the way they behave is very shallow, defaulting to cliche, and doesn’t make a lot of sense when examined – and so the idea that Allison and Tom are doing an intentional good cop/bad cop routine with Henry, not telling him the whole truth, playing up what they think he’ll expect them to be, appeals to me a lot more, and feels like it has more connection to their human selves.

DCTL added a lot of humanity to these characters that just didn’t seem to be there – Thomas’ overwhelming guilt and Allison’s flippant charm finally raise the question of… what happened? What did you lose? What are you two up to, really? …And then it also added something more complicated:

Is Thomas Connor black???

I don’t think this is as conclusive in the text as it’s sometimes made out to be. The line that started this whole thing can be read a couple of ways: “I wonder if Sammy just does this, or if it’s only when he’s talking to women (Abby) and black people (Thomas)” or “Sammy did this to a white person (Thomas) so maybe he just does this, but… I wonder if this is the kind of discrimination my friends told me about.” Technically, the second one makes more sense and is a less troubling reading – we already know Sammy calls Mr. Drew “Joey”, but this reading would imply that even if it’s a habit, that doesn’t make THIS instance okay. Based on the rest of DCTL, a book that seems to be genuinely trying to inject humanity and diversity into a franchise that lacks it, I don’t think the author would’ve shied away from having Thomas obliquely imply being black in his final conversation with Buddy if that had been intended – I think there's a good chance the clumsiness here may have been simply leaving “Thomas is white” assumed.

But, I, like a lot of fan creators, still portray him as black, which… was a choice I thought a lot about. The thing is, in the context of the novels, Thomas being black is kind of great – he’s a complex character with a lot of depth, and he’s not just a big angry guy; as much as he’s gruff and prickly, he’s deliberate and thoughtful with his actions and words, and his personality honestly comes across as a bit of a nerd despite the fact that people keep being intimidated by his being physically buff. He’s the genius behind the machine, who’s realised what that means and struggles to know what to do with the unexpected horrible responsibility it brings. His whole backstory – someone who served in the war, presumably was well-regarded for his skill, but then came home to find no one willing to treat him as the brilliant engineer he was until he met Joey Drew, a man who canonically hires quite progressively – fits really nicely with his demand to be respected as a professional. It would be a shame to dump all of that just because it makes Sammy messier. Thomas Connor is INTERESTING, in a way that fits into history but doesn’t slot into stereotypes… until you get to the games, where he’s transformed into a cartoon dog that’s almost exclusively defined by being physically violent, threatening, and possessive of his girl, which ISNT GREAT. And if Shawn’s line in his BatDS audiolog is meant to refer to a black man… it becomes a slur.

That’s way beyond troubling if it’s intended – and if Thomas IS black, canonically, that’s something that the creators really do need to address. This sort of thing is why a content creator can’t just leave it up to fans to headcanon characters however they want and call that diversity – because the creator has to think about the choices they’re making and the consequences they’ll have in context. But for me, person making fan content who didn’t create the character… in the end, I favoured the novel over the game. The game is already steeped in a lot of iffy tropes, and Allison and Tom’s part in it is so uninteresting to me that I much prefer the idea that they were both putting on an act. Ultimately, bending over backwards to headcanon the Shawn audiolog as being about Wally is a small price to pay for keeping this version of Thomas from the novel that I got a lot more attached to.

I share all this because TLO does something… interesting.

Scott specifically mentioning they’ll be meeting Thomas in Northside (which my quick googling identifies as having, historically, a largely African American population), and then calling attention to it by asking Bill if that would make him uncomfortable, creates a weird little arrow pointing at this detail that’s hard to ignore. There’s no other narrative reason for this aside, it never goes anywhere and Bill never puts together what Scott meant. It seems like the sort of thing we’re usually supposed to read into in these novels, but it’s also… hidden.

It’s still absolutely worth critiquing the problems with making Thomas Connor a black man. And it’s impossible to truly know the author’s motives from the text. But after the company has steadfastly refused to give any explicit diversity, hidden behind the claim that they’re just staying neutral about their characters’ race/gender/orientation!! while making plenty of characters explicitly white and implied straight… I have to respect what feels like an attempt to hang onto this, because it accidentally made it through. Maybe it was originally unintentional, maybe not, but a bunch of fans now think of Thomas Connor, a major character of this franchise and "the only valid man" in DCTL, as black – something that JDS, Inc. will probably never allow again – and, unable to address it directly, Adrienne Kress seems to have responded by actually giving the idea more evidence (though still nothing concrete) and giving Thomas more screen time. I can’t know that’s the intention, so this is, just my little conspiracy theory I guess. And it’s still problematic. But at the same time, we’re all just working with what we’ve got. Like….. Norman isn’t a LESS problematic choice…

—-------------

Anyway, TL;DR, I find Thomas surprisingly compelling, to be honest! He’s an interesting character with a lot of conflict and I’m grateful for the depth the novels gave him, even if the content as a whole struggles to add up cohesively. His toon self feels contrived and random, and I don’t really care for him. Scott is fine.

#i know you have questions you always do #we all write on the walls #thomas connor #'do u have any opinions about thomas connor' jafar unrolling the scroll dot gif

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