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areyoudreaminof · 4 months

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The First Annual Starfall Snipe Hunt: Chapter 1

Nyx is ready for the best Starfall ever! His cousins are coming in from the Day Court for two weeks of fun. But when Papa and Uncle Cass suggest something called a Snipe Hunt, Nyx doesn’t know what to think. Will this be the best Starfall ever? Or the worst?

Nyx gave his room one last look, making sure any loose clothes were safely hidden in the closet. He wasn’t exactly sure why he had to clean his room every single time his cousins visited, but his parents insisted. Scanning the carpet and desk, Nyx thought it looked clean enough. They would all be too busy to hang around in his room anyways.

He flung open the door, checking the clock as he raced down the hall, one minute and thirty seconds until they were scheduled to winnow in. Nyx took the shortcut through the kitchens, skidding out into the garden with fifty nine seconds to spare. Mama was waiting there, a giddy smile on her face.

“It feels like we haven’t seen them in so long.” Mama breathed with excitement as she bounced on her toes. Nyx grinned broadly, “Me too. And it’s Froggy’s first Starfall! She was sick last year, remember?”

Mama laughed, “She’s been to two Starfall’s already, Nyx.”

“Yeah, but she was a baby, Mama. She’s old enough to know what’s going on now!” Nyx scoffed. He did remember when Froggy tried catching the falling stars in her chubby baby fists those first two years. Last year, she got some sort of fever, so Cricket and High Lord Helion came by themselves, and only for the night. Nyx and Cricket had fun, but they felt a bit guilty about it.

“Can the girls and I get our own balcony this year?” Nyx asked, breathless.

“We‘ll see.” Papa said out of nowhere. He seemed to have winnowed in when Nyx wasn’t paying attention. Papa looked at the small pocket watch in his hand. “Thirty seconds.”

The booming flap of wings sounded from above them. A large shadow blocked Nyx’s view as he heard Aunt Nesta’s voice ring out, “Just in time!” Nyx could see she was still dressed in her training leathers as Uncle Cass set her down.

“Sorry we’re late.” she said as she gave Nyx a kiss on his forehead. “We got wrapped up with some training.”

Uncle Cass was breathing hard as he drew his wings in slowly. “I don’t think I’ve flown down that fast in my life.” he whispered to Nyx, exaggerating breaths huffing in his chest.

“Ten seconds.” Papa said with a grin.

It had been two long months since Nyx saw his cousins last, when they visited the Day Court for three whole weeks. Nyx and the girls spent the whole time going to festivals and the beach, and getting into mischief. He got to train with Uncle Lucien and Helion, and got to visit the Lady of Day, who Nyx called Grandmother. He made some friends with some boys his age too, and he had been writing to them frequently.

The Day Court was incredible, but there was always something fun about the girls coming to the Night Court, no matter how often they visited.

He felt a buzzing in the air and in his fingertips. It was time. Nyx held his breath as he blinked. Then, he launched himself forward, crashing into his cousins for a hug.

“Nyxie!”

With a tangle of limbs, Nyx had managed to hug Cricket around her neck, while Froggy had jumped up like a spider monkey and locked her legs around his waist. Giggles and screams sounded out through the garden as the cousins greeted each other.

“How come you’re taller than me now?” Cricket exclaimed, as she stood on her toes. Her short, curly red hair added a good inch to her height, but Nyx had grown a bit since he last saw her.

“All that training I guess.” Nyx hummed.

“You live in the library, but you keep telling yourself that.” She teased brightly, as she ran off to his parents for hugs and kisses.

“I missed you so much, Nyxie!” Froggy squealed as she smacked a big kiss on his cheek. Her sheet of dark golden hair was tied up with a sparkly yellow ribbon. She was tiny, but smarter than Nyx and Cricket combined.

“I missed you too! Are you excited for Starfall?” Nyx asked as he set her down.

“Oh, yes!” she said, bouncing on her toes. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Uncle Cass swooped in and snatched her up. Froggy squealed out another set of giggles. “There’s my little cupcake!” He roared as he threw her into the air.

He gave his Aunt Elain a big hug, savoring her honey and floral scent as she kissed him. He threw his arms around Uncle Lucien. “I’ve been practicing my combat forms!” he said, with excitement, “I’m getting pretty good at close combat.”

Uncle Lucien beamed, “Are you now? Sword or spear?”

“Sword! But only because we don’t have spears at the training ring.” Nyx said, he swooped down into a crouch, extending his arms into a strike. Uncle Lucien dodged but Nyx caught his arm before Uncle Lucien could really block the strike. Uncle Lucien laughed as he ruffled Nyx’s hair and pulled him in for another hug.

Finally reunited, the family made their way into the house. Nyx grabbed Aunt Elain’s bag to help take upstairs to the guest rooms with Uncle Lucien, while his father took the girls by the hand, leading them inside to the living room.

“Are Aunt Mor and Aunt Emerie here? ” Cricket asked without stopping to breathe. “What about Uncle Az and Aunt Gwyn?”

“Aunt Mor and Emerie are finishing up closing the shop in Illyria, Cuddlebug.” Mama said. “And Gwyn and Az will be here tomorrow too. They’re doing some extra work at the camps.” Nyx noticed his parents shooting worried looks at each other. Uncle Azriel and Aunt Gwyn had been keeping a close eye on Illyria, going up for missions frequently.

“Is Amren here too?” Froggy asked, ever the polite little lady who refused to let anyone be left out.

“She’s joining after dinner.” His father said as they all took their places on the sofas and chairs. Turning to Uncle Lucien, he asked. “How was the winnow? Are you feeling alright?”

Uncle Lucien shrugged, “It was fine. I think leaving the dog at home made a difference.”

Nyx now noticed that Cricket’s large smoke hound wasn’t with them. “You left Trajan behind?” he asked Cricket, who had flopped down on the sofa next to him.

“Yeah. It’s hard to winnow with all of us. And he keeps barfing when we take him. So, he’s with Grandmother and Grandpapa. When they come up here, Master Dimitriou will take care of him.” Cricket replied with some sadness.

She was so attached to the hound, that he slept in her bed and followed her everywhere at the Day Court. Her Uncle Eris, the High Lord of Autumn had gifted her the pup a few years ago. Now, Froggy waited patiently for a hound of her own.

“He’ll be okay.” Nyx said, patting her shoulder. Cricket gave a little smirk, before she changed the subject.

“We’re staying two weeks. What’s the plan?” She asked with sneaky grin.

“I think we’ll just hang around until Starfall. Then Uncle Cass and Aunt Nesta are gonna do some training with the Valkyries and we’re allowed to go.” Cricket rubbed her hands together excitedly.

“Mama said she and Aunt Mor are taking us all to the Rainbow too at some point.” He racked his brain, trying to think of what else had been planned. “Froggy, I think Aunt Gwyn wanted to show you some new stuff from the library?”

“You can come with me to class, too.” Mama said.

“We’ll take it all day by day, like we always do.” Aunt Elain hummed, before she excused herself into the kitchen. Probably to see the twins, Nyx guessed.

“Well, in a few nights, Rhys and I will take you children out on a snipe hunt.” Uncle Cass announced loudly.

Cricket and Nyx whipped their heads around, while Froggy, who had been cuddled between Uncle Cass and Aunt Nesta, looked up at him with big, curious eyes.

“A what hunt?” Cricket asked incredulously, her nose wrinkling in utter confusion.

“A snipe hunt.” Papa replied, “It’s something we did in Illyria as boys, and you’re old enough.”

“What’s a snipe?” Nyx asked incredulously.

“Just a nocturnal animal. A little feral, but they’re fun to hunt. Hard to catch.”

“I didn’t know they had snipes this far north.” Uncle Lucien said with a smirk. Aunt Nesta and Mama looked confused, while Uncle Cass and Papa just grinned. “We can talk about it later.” Papa said, turning his attention to the twins, who had glided in to announce dinner.

——————————————————————

“What’s a snipe anyways?” Cricket whispered over the din of the adults. “I’ve never heard of them.”

Nyx shrugged, “I don’t know. Papa said they were in Illyria but I never saw them at the camps the entire time I was there. And I definitely never heard of them. There were lots of owls though.”

“Do you think they’re even real? Or are they just teasing us? Uncle Cass does this all the time.” Cricket grumbled as she tore apart a roll, slapping a thick pad of butter in the middle. “Remember when he told us those kebabs at the Children’s Festival were made of dogmeat after we each ate two?”

“Yeah, but your grandfather was in on it too,” Nyx replied. “and he made it worse by saying they were puppies.”

“You think he’s getting us back for the library prank?” Cricket asked as she eyed Uncle Cass with wariness.

“Maybe. He hasn’t mentioned it since.” Nyx and Cricket may have heard that Cassian was terrified of something that had lived in the library. So they might have lured him down a level or two and jumped out and scared him, and they possibly made Uncle Cass scream.

It was hilarious, but Nyx and Cricket had been punished the rest of the week, cleaning the kitchen and the studio after classes. Even Aunt Elain made them pull weeds for hours in every single house garden.

“If they are planning something, won’t your parents get mad?” Nyx asked, stealing a glance at Aunt Elain and Uncle Lucien who were talking and eating like nothing was wrong.

“Papa will probably think it’s funny, whatever it is.” Cricket hissed. “I fell off Meallan’s back last week and landed in manure and Papa laughed about it for days and told everyone .” Nyx held back a snort, choosing to cough instead, “Were you hurt?” he asked.

“No, but there was poop in my hair and in my ears and all down my clothes! Do you know how many baths I had to take to get the stink off?” she stuffed half of the roll into her mouth as her face reddened with embarrassment. “Four!” she said, her cheeks packed in with bread. “Four baths, Nyx!”

“That’s terrible Cricket. Really.” Nyx promised, trying desperately not to laugh.

“Either way, I smell a rat. They’re up to something and I don’t like it.” Cricket mumbled as she shoved the rest of the roll into her mouth. “Go check their minds.” She ordered as she chewed.

“No! Papa knows when I slip in, plus if they’re planning something their walls will be up.” Nyx hissed. “It can’t be big, Starfall is in two days. It’s probably silly. We just have to be on our guard.”

“Speaking of being on your guard, I wonder what terrible outfit Aunt Mor got us for Starfall.” Cricket snickered. Nyx shuddered.

Last year's ruffled monstrosity was a velvet suit with breeches that cut off above the knee in a jeweled purple color. Cricket got stuck with a frilly pink thing that looked more like a cake than a dress, and clashed horribly with her red hair. Only little Froggy made it out unscathed.

But the children were stuck wearing whatever Aunt Mor got them. She was fun and silly, but she had terrible taste in clothes, Nyx thought.

On his left, Froggy pushed food around her plate in silence. Nyx didn’t need to slip into her mind to tell she was nervous.

“You don’t want your mashed sweet potatoes, Froggy?” he asked her with a little nudge. “I was going to give you mine.”

“I’m not hungry.” she mumbled, not meeting his eyes. “My tummy hurts.”

“Don’t listen to Papa or Uncle Cass. They’re just being stupid.” Nyx said with assurance. “And if there’s ever danger, I’ll fly you away and Cricket will kick their butts!” Cricket gave a little punch to the air to emphasize his point.

Froggy halfheartedly laughed, but didn’t say anything as she pushed her food around her plate.

“We’re getting to the bottom of this,” Cricket hissed, as her russet eyes blazed with that look. The one that meant she was planning something.

“Let’s do it.” Nyx said, but not before he booped his baby cousin on the nose. “We can scare them first,” He whispered as Froggy giggled.

Flesh eating animals didn’t live in the woods, Nyx though. Right?

TAGLIST: @wilde-knight @mossytrashcan @born-to-riot @secret-third-thing @kataravimes-of-the-shire @octobers-veryown @foundress0fnothing @vulpes-fennec @popjunkie42 @xtaketwox @labellefleur-sauvage @pretty-little-blue-sky @reverie-tales @asnowfern @witch-and-her-witcher @iftheshoef1tz @thelovelymadone @itsthedoodle @thesistersarcheron @the-lonelybarricade @chunkypossum

#ACOTAR #next gen #Rhys and Cassian try to beat the kids at their own game #here’s some fluff for your weekend

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soraviie · 1 year

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spending holidays together.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff, some angst if you squint ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: I tried to make this as vague as possible but obviously coming from a country and a family that celebrate Christmas, I was a little bit biased, either way however you celebrate this time or if you're just chilling, I hope you can enjoy this little reaction regardless. Also, there might be a little continuity from previous reactions for some boys

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: “Monie! Come here, boy! Monie!”

Seeing only the rushing colours of the uncaring crowd, you waddled to the side and began to weep uncontrollably. Monie will get lost and die, and Namjoon will hate you forever. This was your first holiday together and you couldn’t even do this one simple thing.

And perhaps, yes, it was the three cups of Svarak talking which you’d drunk while wandering the Christmas market in Prague and perhaps yes, it was the horrid jetlag clouding your emotional state to the point where light inebriation was the least of your worries. Oh, why did you pressure Namjoon into bringing Monie abroad? Who brings a dog to a romantic getaway abroad anyway?

“He’ll get lonely,” you whined, placing your palms against Namjoon’s chest as you adjusted yourself in his lap.

“He doesn’t understand that emotion,” Namjoon had snided, hands reaching up to grab your hips. “Or any emotion for that matter.”

“Dogs can feel emotions!” you pouted in the poor thing’s defence whilst Namjoon brushed his thumb over your lower lip.

“I know, baby,” he affirmed. “I’m just saying he specifically doesn’t have them.”

“You’re so mean.”

Well, this idiot of course. Maybe you should have been meaner too, maybe then Monie wouldn’t think it as funny to rip away from his leash and go running off in between vendors selling gingerbread cookies and hot wine. And now be lost forever.

“Baby?”

Seeing Namjoon, trying to hold onto the thousands of gift bags to send home, running towards you, only made you weep all the harder, snot falling onto your jacket.

Tossing the paper bag into the slushed snow, Namjoon took a hold of your face and fretted, like he always did, a million miles per second.

“Are you hurt? Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you? Are your bones broken?!”

“You’re going to hate me!” you cried, earning nothing but a confused frown and prolonged worrying.

“Why would I hate my baby?” he cooed but you fervently shook your head, evading his kiss.

“I lost Monie! I-I lost him and they’re gonna sell him, Namjoon! Oh god, they’re gonna sell him to some mean kids as a holiday present who are going to pull on his tail and ears! Oh, God, what have I d-done?!”

“You mean this Monie?” Namjoon asked with a smile as he stepped aside and lo' and behold without the slightest hint of shame in the eye stood a white dog, his leash stretching to tie around Namjoon’s wrist.

“Oh my God, you bastard!”

The little dog was rather displeased by the callous and unrefined way of your hugging but you paid it no attention.

“I found him some five minutes ago,” Namjoon explained, more than a little bewildered at your outburst. “Trying to steal some poor guy’s chicken kebab.”

“And all the trip you fondled him more than me. I was but a decoration.”

“Okay, I get it.

“I mean, I bring my wonderful partner halfway across the world to the top 1 spot to celebrate winter holidays in Europe and what do I get? Nothing. They spend the entire time not admiring the splendour of a city with more than a thousand years under the belt, no, they spend that time buying dog treats.”

“Would you shut up?” you pressed a palm against Namjoon’s mouth, feeling the vibrations of his laughter against your skin. “It was our first holiday together, sorry for being emotional about failing you.”

“You could never fail me baby,” he muttered softly, taking your hand away. “Happy holidays. May we spent fifty more together.”

With a kiss against your temples, Namjoon tucked your legs closer into his lap. His apartment might not be a city with a thousand years under its belt and perhaps it did not smell of hot wine, but it was warm and comfortable, standing strong against the harsh weather of this year's winter and you were perfectly content on spending the holidays quietly in your lonesome. Either way just like he did in Prague, Monie slept the night away, only waking when needing to beg for some food.

YOONGI: “So which one is yours?”

And because it made sense, your mother removed her glasses, squinting at the TV.

“The second one on the left.”

“What, broad shoulders with a nice smile?”

“No, mom, that’s Jin! I’m with Yoongi.”

“Is it the little one?”

After a partially amused albeit exhausted sigh, you affirmed.

“Yes, it’s the little one.”

“He looks…nice.”

“He is nice,” you smiled softly to yourself. The broadcast ended and Yoongi’s face was replaced by a soft strumming of generic winter music. Looking out the window with a tangerine twirling between your fingers, you hoped he was at least warm somewhere in Seoul, warm and resting. As it was yesterday and as it will be tomorrow, there was a sunken pang that came when thinking of Yoongi. In times like these you wished nothing more for him to be normal, or at least a little less remarkable, for it to be ordinary enough to sit here with you, awkwardly nodding to whatever your mother said, holding your hand in his and gorging on these tangerines that you subconsciously bought for him.

But well…life was what it was and you had to accept him. All of him.

A ring at the door.

“Oh!” your mother jumped, startled by the jarring sound perturbing the otherwise mellow evening. “It’s probably those damn singers!” she cursed, rolling up the newspaper as if a bunch of mitten-cladded carolers could be thwacked on the nose like a misbehaving dog.

“I’ll get it,” you sprang to your feet, rushing to the door. “Hey, listen,” you yelled at the ringing stranger, battling with the rusty lock. “This is not a festive house so don’t expect any - oh.”

“Oh,” Yoongi echoed softly. His might be freezing red, along with his nose and his hat was perhaps so big it seemed to envelop his head as a whole, and he just might be covered in snow from head to toe as though he’d tripped and dove face down into a big pile, but to you, he was nothing but a vision.

“Happy holidays,” he whispered and stretched out a small parcel towards you which you clutched, head pounding away thoroughly dazed.

“You don’t even celebrate,” you muttered but Yoongi only shrugged.

“I’m here to celebrate you, nothing mo - wow!”

Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck you began to truly ponder if wishes could indeed come true in this harsh and unfair world as someone liked to say.

“You’re choking me here, lil’ heater,” Yoongi gasped for air but you didn’t listen, smelling in his faint cologne and breathing a heavy exhale of relief.

“Deal with it.”

He hummed lowly, with one palm reaching to pat your back. It might have been freezing but you didn’t even notice. Unbeknownst to you neither did he.

JIN: “It’s fine, Jin.”

Nervously, he exhaled, still twiddling with the reindeer print of his singing tie in the front seat of the car.

“I need to be perfect,” he muttered, peering through the dark at your childhood home standing in the distance like a menacing shadow of an oppressive rock face. One he had chosen to smash his head against this night.

“You don’t need to be,” softly, you denied, kissing his cheek. Even with the ring on both of your fingers, he blushed. “But you still are. Don’t worry. As heinous as you are, you're an angel compared to my relatives.”

Because of the panic-filled tremor running up his spine it took a whole two minutes for Jin to truly register your words, during which you’d already climbed out the car, taken the largest bulk of presents in your arm and knocked on the door, fully awaiting to be greeted warmly back home for the holidays.

“Heinous?” Jin muttered absent-mindedly before shaking himself out whatever terrible spell besieged him. It wasn’t your mother he was so afraid of -

“Oh, Seokjinnie! How’s my favourite son-in-law doing?!”

No, it definitely wasn’t your mother, though he would appreciate she’d pinch his cheeks just a tad less.

“So, you’re the fiance that they divorced once already.”

It was your judgmental aunts that had him sweating in consecutive nightmares for many months now.

“Auntie A, please, let’s be civil,” you pushed yourself in front of the slowly brewing conflict. “Not on the holidays.”

“So, Seokjin, we wanted for you to be more included so we…tried to make some of your home foods.”

Jin didn’t know much of this nice woman who spoke kindly to him. She might be your second cousin twice removed on your father’s side, or your aunt thrice removed on your mother’s side… Either way, the spread on the table indeed looked far more eccentric than he was used to. And ever since you’d entered his life, it had been nothing but eccentric.

With bated breaths, the nice lady and your mom waited for his approval and cringing inside, he gave a hollow, polite smile.

“I like it,” he vomited a bit in his mouth.

As soft music travelled from downstairs, muffled multicolour of lights glimmered from the small window of your bedroom behind which stretched vast slopes of snow covered by dark.

“What are they talking about?” Jin whispered, stroking your hair as you laid on top of him. Usually, he’d never liked it but you’d been more of his firsts than he’d ever thought. He could hear just the end of the conversation but the drunken drawl made the words nearly incoherent.

“About how much they love you,” you muttered in reply, tracing absent-minded patterns on his chest.

“Liar, liar, ugly pants on fire.”

“Hey, these pants are not ugly,” you whined and Jin hummed. “And I wouldn’t lie. Not on this season of goodwill.”

“Good will, my ass, are you not grinding against my crotch?”

HOSEOK: “Would you sit still?”

“Sorry, my nose was just itching.”

“Well, do you want it green?”

“No, ma’am.”

You smirked slightly before focusing back on the work at hand. Or should you say on the hand.

Hoseok really shouldn’t be looking this good in nail polish. Especially how immediately much you wanted these fingers up in your…Well, either way the polish would be destroyed then.

With the lights twinkling in the background and the fireplace burning, the night was swimming away into the late night with gracious, almost lulling ease. And while you drew the golden stars one by one, there might still be that treacherous minuscule pang of discontent in the lower pits of your heart, but you pushed it away. Ironically, the first night you painted matching nails it was a time much like this - winter holidays, here in snow-dusted Seoul.

“Just say you’re disappointed,” he had sighed.

“And what would that change?” you mumbled grimly, focusing on dragging the brush with near perfection, coating the nail slowly in all black.

Hoseok didn’t say anything, only drew yet another heavy sigh, before laying his head in your lap.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. You knew this would happen - no couple shirts, no photos, nothing shared in public, nothing to ever prove that this, whatever that even entailed, was real. You knew all that but if only knowing would hurt the hollow ache taking root. You felt the weight of his stare but rather than confronting it you decided to be a coward and focus solely on painting your nails. Because that’s what mattered when the love of your life had to tuck you away in his home like a dirty sock otherwise you’ll be harassed until mental breakdown. You knew he carried that ceaseless guilt all around, so much so, that even his ever-present smile was cracking at the seams like vinyl in a cold room.

“Maybe you can paint my nails?”

That at last had you glancing sparsely towards his side.

“You mean…like matching designs?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, the tone sounding completely casual. Almost too casual. “I don’t mind painting my nails and…

“And I’ve never stopped wanting to have a little bit of you with me everywhere.”

“As cute as it is, I think Baloo just farted.”

Hoseok threw a heavy glare towards your old, over-fattened Grinch of a Birman only to have it returned back tenfold.

“He hates me.”

“Just a bit. All done.”

Blowing on his nails, Hoseok glimpsed outside and you watched as his stare turned wistful, seeing the many rows of families, friends and couples all enjoying outside, trading easy laughter and intoxicated cheer.

“You don’t regret it, do you?” he muttered, almost incoherently. “Being with me?”

You brushed a hand over his knuckles with a sad smile.

“Our family might be small and our home might be a little quiet but it’s a good one. I don’t need anything else.”

For a second, Hoseok almost appeared stunned before his eyes softened in the glimmering lights and he brushed his forehead against yours.

“Happy holidays, baby.”

JIMIN: As the years began to pile up, more and more you began to understand the unceasing back pain all adults seemed to complain about and even more so the sentiment behind Grinch standing on a hilltop and yelling down upon the entire city “I HATE YOU!” The hatred for you came shockingly easy, hey, maybe you were just a bad person but what was not easy was to remember that you’d lost your best friend and the man of your dreams all in one well-coordinated swoop.

Forever didn’t seem so stable when it could be killed by a few petty, anger-driven words. The only forever would be the ceaseless taunting.

If only you would have spoken more; if only he would have listened more. If only you had been brave enough to finally tell your best friend you loved him. If only you were just bold enough to believe that his jealousy was out of fear and not some chauvinistic sign of unspoken ownership. If only you’d have the guts to crawl back and apologise. If only…

If only you’d crashed into him harder and cracked your own skull in the process. Then you wouldn’t have to be standing here, in the middle of a snowing open-air ice rink, with children skating amok, evading the pleads of their exhausted parents; you wouldn’t have to be standing here looking at the stupid face of stupidly endearing Park Jimin, of his stupid red eyes that hinted at not so long before finished crying session, of his stupid mismatched hair, growing dark in the roots and still blond at the tips and most of all you wouldn’t have to be feeling the unmistakable sensation of sheer joy as you were faced with someone whom in anger you swore to hate forever.

Guess that forever didn’t last either.

His hands, red and roughened from the cold, shuttered to a halt, previously occupied with dusting off your coat as he’d bumped into you on the ice, hurtling you painfully through the air.

He wet his dry lips and gently ghosted those dry-ass hands of his over your elbows, wanting to trap you? Hug you?

Either way, you were pissed and the crowd as it turned could be extremely lonely. Snowflakes fell in large clumps from the blackened sky, behind which sprawled the infinite Cosmos. Infinite Cosmos! With planets and galaxies and universes beyond your comprehension so why? Why, oh why, did this man hold so much power over you?!

“Don’t come near me,” you growled. “I don’t want to forgive you!”

Jimin being an obnoxious, catty bastard of an angel leaned into your face, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your nose, his own expression marred with sheer spite.

“So I’m forgiven now?”

There were many things to hate about Jimin. How he made your heart quicken and how well he was aware of that fact. The cocky smile he wore as your face hued in unflattering shades of red. You hated how sad he looked when he was down and how it made you want to ruin the entire world for ever daring to upset him. You were supposed to be unflappable, unapproachable and yet slyly like a creeping cat he had pushed past all those finely built walls to make a home in your heart.

“I’m angry at you!” you curled up your fists only to receive a harsh scowl in return.

“I’m angry at you as well!” Then he smirked because, despite all your talk when his arm wrapped around your waist, you made no effort to remove it.

“Stop doing that!”

“Oh, I’m sorry that my face makes expressions,” he rolled his eyes, pushing you closer.

Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that winter lights were pretty but they were cold, much like the sun at certain longitudes of the Earth, but currently, you couldn’t possibly get any warmer. Your back was positively sweltering acutely aware of his stable touch and the fine line you so inappropriately were skating on. Friends. Not lovers. Friends. Just friends. Not even friends now, ex-friends! Strangers! But the way he was holding you was of no strangers. Of no friends.

Standing here in this stupid, overpriced ice rink with its stupid golden lights, you felt yourself falter, succumbing to weakness. It was all his fault! So why could you not stop the smile blossoming upon your lips?!

“Park Jimin,” you shoved an accusing finger into his chest that definitely hadn’t been getting more toned as of late. “Will you hold yourself responsible when I experience emotional malfunction?”

“Do you mean feelings?” he clarified, eyebrows wrinkling in confusion. “Because if you do, I've been experiencing emotional malfunction for a long time already. I’m the victim here!”

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, but you knew that glint in the eye that had nothing to do with the glimmer of the decorations. “Kiss it better why don’t you.’Tis the season of kisses.”

“It’s not.”

“It is now,” he growled and pushed his lips upon yours.

TAEHYUNG: Honestly, of all the crazy moments within the last year, it was this one that made you fully grasp just how wild one’s life could get. Here you were on this shaking metal box, after much snivelling and snarling to get a little piece of paper, cramped in between two sweaty dudes and travelling hundreds of miles per hour just to see someone’s son. Embarrassing. And yet you were trembling inside.

Catching a taxi, you tried not to get overwhelmed by the bustling of this foreign city and instead focused on perfecting the tied ribbon, praising the heavens that it didn’t get too smushed in your carry-on luggage. Your family were more than a little concerned and more than greatly disheartened by you skipping away across the world on winter holidays of all time but anyone with eyes could see - your heart was already long gone to that stranger in your phone.

Naturally, you didn’t enjoy seeing Taehyung so glum but the miserable reply of “Doubt so” to your misleading little “Happy Holidays, dear!” did grant you a bit of selfish cheer. He was missing you.

As the decorated trees and many overrun shops breezed past the car windows, you smiled to yourself, nuzzling into the red scarf he’d gifted you. Though when the time came to rap at his door, after getting through the apartment security, you found a sudden knot forming in your throat. What if he didn’t want you to see you? The plans after all had been seemingly set in stone - you return back home and spend the time there. What if he’d been preparing to go out with friends? What if he wasn’t even home? You’d look even more foolish after going through all this trouble.

Shaking off the nerves, you gathered yourself and knocked before the sliver of cowardice could nestle once again. You could hear Tannie bark on the other side which was a rather good indication he was home and just a second after were elatedly greeted by the sound of slippers shuffling across the floor. You threw a wink at the camera showing his doorstep, barely having the time to jump out of the way when light speed they were thrust into your face.

“You might get stuck that way,” you teased as Taehyung stood in the doorway, floundering for air like fish out of the water.

“I thought you were going home for holidays.”

“Well, I couldn’t leave you all alone,” you shrugged. “Don’t say that you’re not - oof!”

With the gentleness of a raging rhinoceros, Taehyung yanked you into his arms, swaying around as though he was hearing his favourite song.

“You didn’t even look at your present,” laying on the bed next to him, you pointed at the still-wrapped gift perched on the nearby bedside table. With an elbow braced against his head, he didn’t even glimpse at the gift or attempted to deny the accusations.

“I will tomorrow,” he promised quietly and you hummed, twirling the button of his loose cardigan that truthfully sat too low on his chest for your mental well being.

“I’m sorry this probably wasn’t the best winter holiday -”

“It is,” he interrupted without blinking, tone gaining such a lilt of fierceness, you raised your head in astoundment.

“Did your wish come true or something?”

“Yes, it did,” he answered simply.

JUNGKOOK: Perching the laundry basket on your hip, you tilted your head to the side, curiously inspecting the green thing attached to the ceiling. You knew Jungkook had his fair share of quirks but putting herbs in the doorway… Shaking your head, you gave a resigned sigh and decided to leave your boyfriend be. But the green thing seemed to haunt you like the world’s shittiest ghost. It wasn’t enough for it to be shoved in a random corner of Jungkook’s own home but soon it invaded yours as well. Waking up, with one cheek pressed against his chest, you shook Jungkook awake, pointing concernedly at the vegetable hovering on the lamp above your head.

“What is that for?” you inquired, confused but he merely smirked, wagging his eyebrows in nothing but the most annoying fashion.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“How would I know?” you grumbled, kicking a leg out of the covers, missing the affronted look Jungkook threw your way, when you missed his puckered up lips.

As the month dragged on, you grew increasingly perplexed at how Jungkook’s green celery seemed to simply appear wherever your eyes strayed to. You were growing half convinced he had these things half a dozen shoved down his pants.

“Yes, mom, I got the correct size,” you defended, trying to spot Jungkook’s car in the underground car park of the hellsite that was a shopping centre during the holiday rush. A black car…in a shopping parking lot...like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. Finally, seeing the correct licence plate, you drew a heavy sigh of relief.

“I’ve got to go, talk to you later!”

Upon getting in, you threw the many bags in the backseat, ready to yap Jungkook’s ears off with some overdue complaining only to fall promptly silent when seeing that piece of kale hanging from the car mirror.

“Ehm…I don’t think it’s an air freshener, Koo,” you gently informed him and he scoffed, lips jutting out in a deeply offended pout.

“What did I do?” you whined, receiving a dirty glare as an answer.

“Do you hate me or something?” he glowered after turning his head to the other side and laying his chin on the steering wheel.

“Why would you say that?”

“You’ve not given me any kisses,” he pointed glumly at his spinach.

“Why would…why would a bundle of herbs equal kisses?” you frowned, failing to see his logic. It wasn’t like it was rare but you’ve never been this confused, especially given how resentful he appeared.

“Herbs-?” then all of a sudden he broke out in roaring laughter, startling you immediately. Clutching at his stomach, Jungkook threw his head against the seat. “Oh my god, I’m in love with a dummy.”

“Don’t call me a dummy!” you insisted. “Explain why artichoke equals kisses?”

Whatever you said set him off even further and loudly clapping, it would seem Jungkook would commit suicide by choking himself with laughter.

“ᵃʳᵗᶦᶜʰᵒᵏᵉ,” he gasped, tears streaming down his cheeks and blissfully ignoring your budding irritation.

“Fucking Elmo laughing ass,” you groused, turning up your nose and hissing when Jungkook pressed a wet kiss against your cheek.

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khazadspoon · 5 months

Note

mmyeshello prompt: "Blondie has a kitten in his hat" type scene but with Manco and Mortimer

Sorry it took so long! I had forgotten I had an ask and got caught up 😔 here’s a little cute thing

——

If Colonel Douglas Mortimer is anything, it is a man who knows what to expect in life. Few things surprise him after fifty years of hunting bounties, of taking and sparing lives, of surviving on his wits and skills.

And yet, when he hears the soft mewling and low rumble of a purr from Manco’s poncho, he finds himself surprised. He blinks, lowers his pipe, and leans forward to take a peek.

Sure enough there is a small, content looking kitten curled up in Manco’s lap. It kneads happily at the coarse fabric of the poncho as it purrs, its eyes half closed in a display of pleasure and trust.

“Where’d you find that?” He asks, more perplexed than he wants to admit.

Manco smiles. The expression deepens the lines around his eyes, makes him look younger and less cynical about the world. It’s a good look. Mortimer won’t admit to that, either. “He was under the porch of the hotel, came right out and curled around my foot. Couldn’t resist the little fella.” There is a hint of something nostalgic in his voice that intrigues Mortimer, but he doesn’t know how to ask about it.

Nothing about Manco is clear, he doesn’t talk about his past anymore than Mortimer does, maybe even less. He doesn’t even know the boy’s real name.

Manco smiles again. He fusses the kitten, ruffling its dark fur with long fingers. “Reminds me of the time I found one down in some bombed out town during the war. Scrawny thing, but scrappy.”

Mortimer lights his pipe and watches his companion curiously. “You weren’t a soldier,” he says.

Manco huffs, glances up at him as he scratches lightly at the kitten’s fur. “How’d you know?”

“No discipline, too headstrong. No… you’re not a military man. What did you do in the war?”

Manco’s smile falls away as he looks down at his lap. He chews his lip and shrugs. “Something like what I do now, I guess, but with fewer… rules. I had a partnership at one point, nothing like ours. It- it was untied a couple of times. Kinda messily. I got a few regrets from that time.”

“I see.”

He doesn’t, not entirely, but the barebones of the sketch is there. He can see it in how Manco is holding himself; turned inward and thinking of times gone by. Two people tied together, tighter than men like they are should be, chafing against the closeness but needing it nonetheless. Not entirely unlike how he feels about Manco, if he is honest with himself.

The kitten mewls and the smile drifts back onto Manco’s lips. “I might tell you the whole story one day, Old Man, when we’ve finished here.”

Mortimer reaches out and strokes the kitten’s soft fur, feels the rumble as it purrs. He wonders if Manco’s hair is just as soft. Maybe it is coarse from too much sun and wind. Maybe Manco would purr, too. “I’ll hold you to that.”

#for a few dollars more #colonel douglas mortimer #manco #tmwnn #the dollars trilogy #mantimer #mancomer

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artyandink · 3 months

Text

we could be more | dean winchester | 18

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

WHAT IS AND WHAT SHOULD NEVER BE

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : HOUSE OF MEMORIES - PANIC!AT THE DISCO

I opened my eyes, adjusting to the surroundings. Which was mostly blood. And fire. And more blood. “What the hell-“

“Hello, Ivonne.” I saw a demon in front of me, a short, pudgy man in a suit. He looked like a five year old with a big forehead. I chuckled, smirking.

“Looks like I’m in it.”

“We’re been waiting for you.”

“Flattered.” I sniped. “Who are you?”

“Demon.”

“And you’re wearing a suit like you’re the boss? Keep dreaming.” He was silent, so I laughed again. “Oh, so you are? I was expecting more of an intimidating visage, really. But good on you, I supposed.”

“No-no.” He grunted distastefully, then put on the smirk again. “Lucifer’s… on holiday. My name’s Crowley, the demon who’ meant to handle you, and you’ve got the penthouse here. You’re in Hell, honey, and there’s no escaping.”

Dean woke up in a bed that wasn’t his, looking around in confusion. He got up and walked into the living room of the apartment, then took out his cell and called Sam.

‘Dean?’

“Sam?”

‘What's going on?’

“I don't know. I don't know where I am.”

’What? What happened?’

“Well, the uh, the Djinn. It attacked me.”

‘The gin? You’re drinking gin?’

“No, asshat. The Djinn. The... scary creature. Remember? It put its hand on me and then I woke up... in a weird place.”

Sam chuckled. ‘You mean your apartment, the place you live?’

“And Beanie… oh god, Beanie… she’s dead.”

’Who’s Beanie? Who is she, Dean?’

“Ivy. Our Ivy, don’t you remember her?”

‘Dean, you're drunk. You're drunk-dialing me.’

“I am not drunk. Quit screwing around!”

‘Look, it's late. All right, just get some sleep and, um, I'll ... see you tomorrow. OK?’

“Wait, Sam. Sam!” Sam hung up, so Dean searched his contacts.

No Ivy.

“Dean.” Mary Winchester frowned when she saw her son at the door.

“Mom?” Dean whispered, his voice breaking.

“What are you doing here? Are you all right?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, come inside, then.” She led him inside, concerned. “What’s going on?”

“Let me ask you a question. When I was a kid, what did you always tell me when you put me to bed?”

“I-I don’t understand-“

“Just answer the question.”

“I told you angels were watching over you.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “I don't believe it.” He hugged her tightly, tears threatening to fall down his face.

“Honey, you're scaring me.” Mary murmured. “Now just tell me what's going on.”

“You don't think that wishes can, can really...”

“What?”

“Forget it. I’m just happy you’re here, is all.” He took her shoulders. “You're beautiful.”

“What?”

“Hey, when I was uh... When I was young was there ever a fire here?”

“No, never.”

“I thought there was.” He smiled. “I guess I was wrong. Dad's on a softball team.”

“He loved that stupid team.” Mary chuckled.

“Dad's dead? And the thing that killed him was a...”

“A stroke. He died in his sleep, you know that.”

“Hey, Nate. Nate!” A boy of around eight dashed down the stairs, jumping down the last three. A blonde woman who looked in her early 20s ran after him, while a slightly older guy followed at a slower pace. “Nathan Michael Rainer, get back here! You can play Captain America another time; your bedtime was fifty minutes ago!” The surname struck a chord, and Dean’s eyes widened. Could she…

“Lily!” The guy called, then threw up his hands in exasperation. He then turned to Dean and Mary in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs Winchester, I didn’t know you were having guests around.”

“No, that’s ok, honey, it was a surprise to me too.” Mary laughed, then gestured to Dean. “This is my elder son, Dean.”

“Nice to meet you.” Dean held out a hand, which the boy shook.

“You too, man. I’m Carter.” Carter grinned, then looked behind him. So… that was Carter Rainer.

“Hell of a grip.”

“Back atcha. Excuse me, my brother’s on a sugar high. Shouldn’t have let him eat ice cream after seven. Or eat ice cream at all.” He jogged off, and Mary shook her head with a giggle.

“Who’s…”

“Oh, come on, Dean.” Mary sighed. “Carter’s Sam’s best friend and you definitely know this. You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “‘Course not.”

“Well, Audrey and Michael’s kids are over for Christmas while they’re having their anniversary together in Hawaii. Though it’s hard managing Nate without- oh, speak of the angel.“ The doorbell rang, so Mary rushed to open it, the person behind her masked by the hug they gave each other.

“I hope I’m not late to the party.” The voice broke Dean’s heart, and he had to gulp back tears, heading into the dining room to recover, but still peering through the door. She’s alive. “Is Nate in bed?”

“Too much ice cream.”

“Ok, so he’s a race car by now, got it.” Ivonne Rainer walked in, taking off her beanie and leather jacket, hanging it up. Then, just as Nate ran past, she scooped him up, making him giggle. “Someone’s not sleepy, huh?”

“No!” Nate pouted, folding his arms. “I want to stay up, like the rest of you.”

“Oh, but you’re sleepy, Nate.” She insisted. Then she moved her pointed in a loop around his face, his eyes following as the circle got smaller. “You’re getting sleepier, and sleepier, and boop!” She tapped his nose. “You’re really sleepy.” Nate yawned, and she smiled, kissing his forehead. “There we go.” Then she turned to Quinn, who emerged from the kitchen. “Quinn, you get the honour of putting Sleepy Nate to bed. I’ll help Mrs Winchester out.”

“Sure thing.” Quinn smiled, taking Nate upstairs. Dean blinked; it was hard to look at her the same after seeing her as a dreamwalker, being the cause of Ivy’s death and also being a hardcore psycho. However, it was good to see her, well, normal.

Ivy turned to Carter and Lily. “You two better get some sleep too.”

“We’re 23 and 20, sis, not 15 and 12.” Carter smirked, rolling his eyes. The ages at which they died.

“I’m 27, so I hold the cards.” Ivy retorted, ruffling Carter’s hair. “Head up, short stack.”

“I’m four inches taller.”

“You used to be four inches smaller.”

“Yeah, when I was twelve.”

“Go and I’ll get you a burrito for breakfast.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lily and Carter saluted in sync and headed upstairs, and Ivy turned to Mary with a triumphant grin.

“Madness fixed.” She laughed.

“Thank goodness, I can finally rest.” Mary joked as they went into the dining room. Dean’s eyes instantly fell on Ivy, his breath hitching. She looked the same, except she looked happier. Less worn, and she had a tattoo of three flying birds on her collarbone. The scar on her eyebrow was the same, her freckles were in place, but she had a few more laugh lines, and she had dimples when she smiled.

She looked beautiful to him. Well, she always looked beautiful.

“Should I put on a cup?”

“That would be amazing. Oh!” Mary exclaimed upon seeing Dean. She walked up to him, guiding him by the arm to face Ivy. “Dean, this is Ivonne, you haven’t met her yet. She works in the force in Jersey. Ivy, this is Dean.”

“Dean?” Ivy smiled, giving him a look which made his knees weak. “The Dean? Big brother, Dean?”

“That Dean, yeah.” Dean nodded, and they shook hands, though his hand lingered for a bit longer than he’d intended it to.

“It’s great to meet you, man. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She grinned, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Been dying to see the dude that raised Sammy.”

“Yeah. You’re, uh, you’re lookin’ at him.”

“I’m glad I am.” She turned to Mary, taking her shoulders gently. Is this what she’d be like had her siblings survived? “Mary, I’m gonna set some dinner up for Dean in the kitchen, you relax. Watch some TV.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

“No problem.” She shrugged, then turned to Dean with a crooked, winning grin that mirrored her usual one, making Dean’s heart leap from his chest. “D’you want dinner, or are you gonna keep standing there?” Dean blindly followed her into the kitchen, at a loss for words. “So, the Dean, what d’you do for a living?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Try me, why don’t you?”

“I… I’m a… hunter.”

She grinned, though there was a flicker of something else. “Not that hard, is it? Dad’s hobby was hunting before he married my mom. Taught me how to shoot, so I went in the force. Majored in Criminology and also did a side course in folklore.”

“Shoo in at the academy, I’m guessing.” He chuckled.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“I might.” She didn’t respond, busy cutting a cucumber with surprising accuracy. He stared at her, and at the necklace hanging from her neck, smiling softly and almost breathlessly. “Good with knives too?”

“Perks of havin’ a mom who’s good in the kitchen and a dad who’s good with guns.” She looked up, catching him staring. “Whatcha starin’ at?”

“You.” He blurted, then caught his words. “You, uh, cause you’re… you’re beautiful.”

“Thanks.” She giggled. “And here I thought you were the take it slow type.”

“Oh-“

“I’m just kidding, you’re good. No harm in complimenting a woman.” She passed him a plate of salad and a plate with a burger, both of which he dug into happily. The salad? More reluctantly, but still. “If we’re trading compliments, then I think you’re handsome.”

“Do you?” He chuckled, looking up.

“I do. I say it like I see it.”

“I’m familiar with it.”

“So, Dean, got a special lady where you’re from?” She had a twinkle in her eye, and Dean bit his lip, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah I do. I did.” He nodded.

“You did?” Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, past tense.”

“You don’t have to talk about it-“

“No, I can. It was a while ago.” He gulped, swallowing the tears. “I called her Beanie, cause she was always wearing one, but, uh, her name’s… Hazel.”

“I’d love this Hazel.” Ivy smiled, sitting down with a cup of tea. “My middle name’s Hazel. Tell me more about her.”

”She was… badass.” A goofy grin spread across his features, lighting them up. “Always had a plan, always knew what to say. She’d set me straight if I needed to be set, and her smile…”

“Let me guess, it can light up the room?”

“Nah. It could cause a power outage.”

“That good, huh?”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for y-her.” He caught his words. “If she was still here.”

“Sounds like a lucky girl.” She smiled.

You’re that lucky girl.

“No, I was a lucky man.” She made a face as if she was deducing something for a split second, then it looked like she pushed the thoughts down.

“Do I- Do I know you from… somewhere?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Probably not.”

“You just seem…” She let out a sigh that bordered on nostalgic, “familiar.”

“Like you’ve just met someone but you feel like you’ve known them forever?”

“Pretty much.” She tilted her head. “You’re a strange one, Dean Winchester.”

“And is that a bad thing?”

“I work in the force. Strange is a normal thing.”

The next morning, Dean woke up, and the first thing on his mind was the Djinn. Then he thought of someone who can help. He got up, walking over to where he thought Ivy would be, which was… making Nate eat his breakfast.

“You’ve got it.” She ruffled his hair, then saw Dean. A smile lit up on her face, and she walked over. “Morning, Dean. Whatcha want for breakfast?”

“To talk. To you.” He gulped, and a look of concern crossed her face.

“Yeah, of course. C’mon, Mary gave me John’s study if I ever needed quiet time.” They went into a small room with well kept books on the shelves, and she shrugged. “What’s up?”

“Do you have any books on folklore? Like… creatures and stuff? I’m curious about one.”

She took off a book, the exact book she used to use when she was alive, flicking through it. “Mhmm. Which one?”

“Djinn.”

“Djinn… got it.” She tapped a place on the page. “I can barely read Ancient Greek, but what do you wanna know?”

“If they can really grant wishes.”

“Yeah, they… can.” Ivy furrowed her brow, staring at him weirdly. “Dean, these are mythical creatures. You can’t possibly think they’re real.”

“I do.” He stepped forward, the coil in his head snapping. “And something tells me that you think the same.”

”What-“

“I know more about you than you think. Ivonne Hazel Rainer, born on January 9th, 1979 to Audrey and Michael Rainer. Your favourite colour is the orange the leaves turn in fall. Your favourite band is Led Zeppelin. During high school, you had a phase where you were a blonde babe.”

“How do you-“

“Your leather jacket was your father’s. You stole Carter’s beanie, but that’s fine cause you got him another one for his birthday. Everything you know about fighting came from your dad.”

She took out her gun, aiming it at him, fire blazing in her grey eyes. “Are you some kind of elaborate stalker? If you are, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow your brains out.” She flicked off the safety when the doorbell rang, and she put the gun down, putting the safety on. “You’re safe for now, douche.” She stored the gun in her waistband, hiding it with her shirt, then jogged down to the door and opened it to reveal Sam and Jessica.

“Sam, man!” Carter yelled, and Sam grinned.

“Carter!” They bro hugged, while Ivy hugged Jessica tightly.

“How have you been?” She asked Jessica, who then started gushing about her day. Dean started talking to Sam, but found that their relationship wasn’t what it used to be. “Hey, Sammy.” She smiled.

“Ivy!” Sam hugged her, but Ivy had to stand on her toes. “How’s work? Catch any bad guys?”

“Loads. Now come on, I’ve made breakfast.” She looked up at him. “Am I shrinking or are you getting taller?”

“Neither.” When they got inside and everyone headed to the kitchen, Ivy pressed her forearm to Dean’s collarbone and shoved him into a side room, pinning him to the wall.

“How do you know so much about me, huh?!” She interrogated. “What are you, a psychic? Shapeshifter? Demon?”

Dean’s eyes widened upon hearing it. “You don’t work in the force, do you-“

”Answer the question!”

“I know all that because I knew you. In a place where you had a much worse life.”

”You’re lying.”

”Would I have your gun if I was?” Dean took out Ivy’s - his Ivy’s - gun, showing it to her.

“My gun.” She breathed. “What… how?”

“Girl called Hazel? That’s you. I somehow got into this reality where everything’s great, but it isn’t. There were newspapers in your office of incidents that I was meant to stop. With Sam and you. And you’re not meant to be alive.”

“What are you talking about?”

”In my, uh, reality, you’re a lot rougher around the edges. That’s cause Quinn? She dies of cancer because your dad took her on a hunting trip that got her turned, and he OD’d her with dead man’s blood and made it look like cancer, so she died. Your dad dies because a dreamwalker carved his heart out. Then the dreamwalker, who you found out much later was Quinn, possesses Carter and makes him murder your mom, your then unborn brother Nate and Lily. Then you shoot him in self defence. All of this happened when you were nineteen, and you went on a monster killing spree until you were twenty six, which is when you met me. A year later, the dreamwalker comes back, and you reveal the truth. It forces you to kill your boyfriend and almost kills your dad. Now, you also had a rune preventing you from using sorcery that was meant to go to your brother. That could only be broken by a love sacrifice, and to break it you pushed me out of the way of Quinn’s attack and…” He paused, gritting his teeth, “you made me kill you.”

“And why?”

“So she couldn’t get to you again.”

“You’re made of bull, you know that, right?” She scoffed, taking out her gun. “I don’t believe you. I really don’t.”

“Look at me.” He ordered, “Look me in the eye, Beanie, and tell me if I’m lying.”

“I don’t need to look you in the eye to tell.”

“I loved you!” Dean burst out, breathing heavily. “Hell, more than I’d like to admit. I’ve tried to get over you, but I… I can’t.”

“Still full of-“

“Just take one look at me and tell me whether I’m lying. Please, Beanie.”

She sighed in defeat, then gave him a long, hard look. “You’re not, are you?”

”That’s what I was tryna tell you.” She let him go, biting her lip.

“You better be telling the truth. Otherwise I’d skin you alive. In the meantime, we’ve got your mom’s dinner party.”

A plate of asparagus was set in front of Dean, making Ivy chuckle. “Wow, that... looks awesome.”

“To Mary.” Ivy raised her glass. “Happy birthday.”

“To Mary.” Everyone clinked their glasses together, sipping. Sam and Jessica shared a kiss, and Dean smirked.

“What do you say, later we get you a cheeseburger?” She grinned, leaning closer to him.

“You’re an angel.” Dean whispered.

“I know.”

“How’d you become such a cool chick?”

“Ask my dad, not me.”

“All right. Jess and I actually have another surprise for Mom's birthday.” Sam announced, turning to Jessica. “Ah... You wanna tell 'em?”

“They’re your family.” Jessica insisted.

“Alright.”

“What?” Mary asked excitedly. “Tell me what?” Sam held up Jessica’s hand, entwined with his, a ring flashing on it. “Oh my God! That's so wonderful.” We all stood up sans Dean, hugging each other.

“Don’t forget the boys, Sam.” Carter grinned, clapping Sam on the shoulder.

“Oh, come on, Carter.” Quinn chastised with a smile incredibly similar to Carter’s. What is he thinking? They’re twins, of course they’d be similar. “We’re so happy for you.”

“And come to think of it,” Ivy teased, hugging Jessica, “you were both shyer than Carter in his teens when you met each other.”

“Oh, shut up.” Sam rolled his eyes playfully.

“That’s no way to talk to your marriage planner. Now, c’mon, we need to break out the champagne! And no, Lily, you’re underage.”

“Come on!” Lily complained.

“Lily, just one year.”

“One year’s too long.”

“Sorry, bite size.” Carter smirked, sipping champagne. “You’ve gotta wait.”

“You ok?” Ivy asked, sitting down on the sofa beside Dean and offering him a beer. He gladly took it, sipping it.

“Sammy and I don’t get along.” Dean lamented, and she shrugged.

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“I can fix things with Sam. I can make it up to him. To everyone.”

”Doesn’t make a lick of sense, dude.” She took a sip. “My alternate version, what did she say to you before she died?”

“She called me a dumbass.” He grinned, then faltered. “Said that she didn’t want to die so soon, but she had no option. She made me promise that I wouldn’t blame myself for her death, even though I’m the one that did it.”

“She asked you to do it, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then don’t blame yourself.” She shrugged, then laughed. “She sounds like a smart girl.” Ivy turned, seeing him staring with the same look as yesterday. “What?”

“You’re so much more happier here.” He chuckled. “It’s relieving. To know that if all that crazy shtick hadn’t happened, you might be… who you are now. You wouldn’t be so hard set, so averse to new opportunities-“

“What new opportunities?”

“This.” With that, he cupped her cheek, kissing her. He pulled back almost instantly running a hand through his hair as he internally cursed himself for kissing someone who was a stranger to him in this world. “Damn, Ivy, I’m so sorry-“ He was pulled back in for another kiss, Ivy holding his shirt but then cupping the nape of his neck. Then something seemed to switch, and she pulled back, standing up.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but… no.” Ivy let out a breathless chuckle, shaking her head as she ran a hand through her hair. “Whatever this is? It comes from your love for your Ivy, not me. I can’t replace her, Dean. I’m not rough around the edges like she is. My family’s alive, Dean, and i’d very much like it to stay that way, but we need to get you back. To your family.”

“I’ve only got Sammy left in my world.” He frowned, “I’m not sure I want to go back.”

“Well, you need to, buddy.” She clapped his shoulder. “C‘mon, let’s get you to wherever the Djinn was.”

“First…” He held a finger up, “I need a silver knife.”

“You kidding me?! It’s 12 in the morning!”

“I still need it!”

“Fine, but get the largest one, yeah? I’m waiting in the Impala.”

“You don’t have the-“ She held up the keys. “Yeah, should’ve known you’d swipe ‘em from my pocket.”

“Mhmm. Meet me in the car.”

Ivy was tapping the steering wheel impatiently when Dean got in, holding up the knife. Then after him came Sam.

“Sam?!” She hissed to Dean.

“Wha…” He turned to see Sam. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m coming with you.” He panted.

”No, he’s not.” Ivy refused.

“You're just gonna slow us down.” Dean grimaced.

“Us?!” Sam exclaimed indignantly. “What, is Dean some undercover cop?”

“You could say that.” Ivy huffed. “Sam, this is dangerous and you could get seriously hurt.”

“Well, tough.”

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

”Nope.”

“Ok, but don’t blame me and go crying to Jessica if you get hurt.” She floored it, driving off.

“What's in the bag?” Sam asked, spotting the bag in between Dean and I.

“Nothin’.” Dean sighed.

“Nothin’?”

“Nothin’.”

“Fine.” He grabbed the bag, starting to open it.

“Sam, you don’t wanna know what’s inside.” Ivy groaned.

“Oh really?” He took out the container of blood, making her shake her head. “Blood?”

“We needed a knife dipped in lamb’s blood.”

”You needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood, why?”

“There’s this thing, a Djinn. We need to hunt it.” Dean explained.

“Stop the car.” Sam ordered.

“This is why I said you shouldn’t come along.” Ivy snapped. Sam pulled out his phone, dialling a number.

“I mean, you guys are obviously having a psychotic breakdown, and-“ She grabbed his phone, throwing it out the window.

“We’re not psychotic. This here? It’s real.”

”My phone-“

“Tough, kid.” She sighed. “Listen to me and listen to me carefully, Sam. I’m not a police officer. I’m what people like me call a hunter. And I hunt demons, ghosts, you name the supernatural creature, I hunt it. Dean does too. A Djinn grants wishes, and Dean here seems to be stuck in one. Got it?”

“What about Carter? Lily, Quinn, Nate, do they know this?”

“Nope. They don’t know a thing, and you’re not gonna tell anyone, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good. Now sleep.”

“But-“

“Sleep.”

They pulled up at the Djinn’s hideout, and Sam woke up with a jerk. “Where are we?”

“Not in Kansas.” Ivy quipped, getting out of the car. “We’re in Illinois.”

”And you think there’s something in there?”

“Yeah.” She nodded exasperatedly. “Yeah, he does. Let’s go.” They headed inside, but found nothing. Yet.

“See? There’s nothing. C’mon, l-let’s just go.” There was a sound, and Sam yelped. “What the hell is that?”

”Stay behind me and keep your mouth shut.” Dean ordered. They stalked through the halls, then they split. Ivy checked on the bodies hanging from the stands, muttering under her breath. “What if that's what the Djinn does? It doesn't grant you a wish, it just makes you think it has.” Dean wondered, making her join them.

“Listen, it might come back-“

”What if I'm like her? What if I'm tied up in here some place? What if all this is in my head? I mean it could, you know, maybe it gives us some kind of supernatural acid, and then just feeds on us slow.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

”It's - it's like more and more like I'm catching flashes of reality. You know, like I'm in here somewhere, and I'm - I'm catatonic, and I'm taking all this stuff in but I, but I can't snap out of it.”

”Yeah, OK, look. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're right. I was wrong. You're not crazy but we – we – we need to get out of here. Fast.” Sam tried to pull Dean with him, but Dean detached himself.

“I don’t think you’re real.”

Sam took Dean’s arms, gripping them tight. “Dude, you feel that? You feel this? I'm real. This is not an acid trip. I'm real, and that thing is gonna come down here and kill us for real. Now, please—“

”There’s one way to be sure.” Dean pulled out the knife.

”Woah, what are you doing?”

“It’s an old wives’ tale. If you’re about to die in a dream, you wake up.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no. That's crazy. All right?”

“Do it, Dean.” Ivy urged, stepping forward.

“You stay back!” Sam snapped harshly. Everyone appeared, surrounding him. “Why did you keep digging? Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone, Dean?”

“Because this isn’t real.” Dean shook his head. “Ivy’s meant to be dead.”

“She’s alive here.” Carter insisted. “You love her. Don’t lose her.”

“It's everything you want. We're a family again. Let’s go home.” Mary pleaded.

“I'll die.” Dean whispered. “The Djinn'll... drain the life out of me in a couple of days.”

“But in here, with us, it'll feel like years. Like a lifetime. I promise. No more pain. Or fear. Just love and comfort. And safety. Dean, stay with us. Get some rest.”

“You don't have to worry about Sam anymore.” Jessica smiled. “You get to watch him live a full life.”

”Don’t listen.” Ivy begged. “What’s dead should stay dead, Dean. You’re not going to get anything out of this.”

”Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven't we done enough? I'm begging you.” Sam stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Give me the knife.”

“Do it.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean lifted the knife, plunging it into himself-

I gasped, my eyes flying open as I tried to sit up, but my head collided with wood. Straight wood.

“What’s going..?” I panted, looking around, but meeting the boring sight of oak each time. “Am I in a coffin?”

I started banging on the ceiling, yelling out.

“HELLO?!”

”IS ANYONE THERE?!”

”I’M BURIED ALIVE!”

Oh boy.

A/N Time!

I feel like I should explain this episode. Dean loves Ivy, as he revealed, but his idea of a dream world with Ivy is her living the life she was supposed to, where her family’s alive. It’s also where she’s getting with him on HER terms (my sweet boy’s a gentleman) and not because it’s what he wants. And she encourages him to stab his elf because the Djinn made a mistake when interpreting that Ivy’s ‘always on Dean’s side’ because she encouraged him to break free.

Anyway, that’s enough wafflin’ from me.

Love y’all, and feel free to comment, reblog and like!

Arty :)

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#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x oc #spn masterlist #dean winchester x you #supernatural oc

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

Text

If You’re Ready (Like I’m Ready)

Keith & Coran (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Fluff, 1.2k Words

Summary: After he impulse-proposes to Lance, Keith asks for Coran’s blessing.

---

“Hey, Coran? Can I talk to you for a second?”

Coran pauses, turning to face an uncharacteristically nervous Keith.

“Absolutely, my boy! What can I do for you?”

Keith wrings his hands together, staring at the floor. He takes a deep breath, visibly steeling himself, and when he looks at Coran his eyes are steady and determined.

“There’s this… human custom,” he starts. “When you intend to marry someone.” Keith pauses a moment, staring hard at Coran. Perhaps he’s expecting surprise, or shock. Maybe he’s even expecting a scolding or a lecture.

He is not going to get it.

Coran always knew about Keith and Lance. Always. He was never fooled by their rivalry, and noticed the second Lance realised he had feelings for Keith (Keith, bless his soul, took much longer to realise, although to his credit he did act on those feelings immediately. His impulsivity reminded Keith so heavily of Alfor that he felt as if the man was in the room. He supposes the fiery nature of the Red Paladin is a permanent feature, lion change or no). He watched the two of them fall in love, and slowly build their relationship, as oblivious as Keith may have been to it. He’s truly grateful to have witnessed such a devoted and endless bond.

So unlike the rest of the team, who likely believe Keith’s proposal in the common room earlier this evening was a joke, Coran knows better. He recognised the sincerity in Keith’s voice, and the quiet joy in Lance’s teasing response. He knew Keith fully intends to marry Lance, and Lance fully intends to marry Keith.

“Walk with me,” Coran says, gesturing down the hallway. “Tell me about this custom.”

Keith jogs forward a few steps to stand next to Coran, and the two begin their stroll around the castle.

“It’s an older tradition, called asking for a blessing,” Keith explains, “and many people dislike it. And they’re right to dislike it, honestly. It was invented in a period where women were the property of their families and were sold off to husbands. But the meaning behind the tradition has changed, over time. Hundreds of years ago, it was a request for a transference of ownership. Now, it’s more of a promise to the parents and family of your betrothed. A promise that you’ll love and care for them when they start their new life with you.”

“I see,” Coran responds. “There was a similar occasion on Altea, called the Ahinikov. It was a celebration of the change of households.”

“Did it have the same dark history?”

“Much of Altea’s history has been lost, and the history behind this tradition is no exception. Our species has been around for over fifty million decapheobes – not including cryosleep – and at one point there was more history than there was space to record it. If there is a reason for the tradition, it has long since faded into the stream of time.”

Keith is silent for a moment, as he always is when he’s contemplating information. “I’m sorry,” he offers eventually. “I know a thing or two about lost history. It sucks.”

“It does, my dear,” Coran agrees softly. “But you did not come to see me to mourn.”

“No, I didn’t.” Keith takes another deep breath, clenching his shaking hands into tight fists. When he releases them, they’re still. “I came to ask you for your blessing. To marry Lance.”

Coran smiles. “Lance is not mine, child. The blessing is not for me to give. His family is on Earth.”

“One of his families is on Earth,” Keith corrects. “His other family is here. And you are as much of a parent to him as his parents on Earth, he told me that himself.”

Coran closes his eyes as they begin to water, mind flashing to a young boy with curly pink hair, holding his hand and calling him father, lost long before the rest of his people. An old pain, a wound that has been scabbed over, but that is painful nonetheless. He thinks of the daughter he’s found in Allura, and all the other children he’s found in the human paladins of Voltron. He thinks of their relentless hope and optimism, their determination to end this war and to avenge its victims. He thinks further of their pain and exhaustion, of their struggles, because war is never without pain and casualties.

He thinks that these soldiers, only children compared to Coran’s many decades of life, and thinks that he would do anything to bring them all the happiness they can get.

He reaches forward and grabs Keith’s hands, which have tensed again, and holds them gently. “You do not need my permission. Not now, not ever. But you have it, dear Keith. I know you will be everything Lance deserves in a husband, because you already are. Your love for him is evident in everything you do, child, because you love so strongly. Your heart is filled with strength and softness, and there is no man I would choose more than you to be the husband for our Lance.”

Keith’s hands grip Coran’s tightly, and Coran can feel tears drip onto his skin. He’s not sure whose they are.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I will do right by him. I will.”

Coran squeezes his hands again, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “I know you will, Keith. I don’t doubt you for a second.”

—

Coran sees Keith again the next morning, far before anyone else has awoken for the day. This is not uncommon – the two of them are the only early risers on the ship (stars know that the rest of them would sleep for a week should they have the chance), and often sit and chat together in the kitchens as they wait for the everyone else to greet the day.

“I don’t think I can wait very long to marry him,” Keith confesses, swirling a spoon through his tea. “I kind of want to be married yesterday, actually. If I married him right this second it wouldn’t be soon enough.”

Laughing, Coran nudges Keith in the shoulder, who smiles sheepishly. “Trying to make up for all the years you made Lance wait?” he asks teasingly.

Keith scowls, going a little red around the ears. “I didn’t mean to make him wait. I didn’t know!”

“I know, my boy, I know. I’m only joking.”

Keith huffs, but he’s smiling. They sit in a comfortable silence, sipping their tea and enjoying the early morning quiet.

“You know,” Coran says eventually, “Olkarion marriage certificates are recognised nearly everywhere in the universe. And several marriage offices are always open, regardless of the late hour.”

This makes Keith perk up, looking at Coran with wide eyes.

“Oh?”

Coran nods, smiling. “Yes.”

There’s another silence, as Keith stares at the wall in front of them, fingers tapping rapidly as he considers the information.

“Are we busy today?”

“We have training until noon, but there’s nothing scheduled after. Although,” Coran grins at Keith conspiratorially, “I could arrange for Lance’s help with some chores, if you needed to step out of the castle unattended for a few hours.”

Keith grins back. “I would appreciate that.”

—

Coran notices the rings before anyone else, as he is wont to do. He sees them as Lance and Keith enter training together, giddy and whispering. He catches Keith’s eye and winks, and the boy winks back.

Coran smiles to himself. Devoted and endless bond, indeed.

---

part one part two part three

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super-unpredictable98 · 1 year

Text

Comes in Waves (The Clinic AU)

Pairing: Shane x Reader

Word Count: 990

Warning: Strong language, needles

a/n: NEW CHARACTER ALERT! It took me a while to bring you guys someone new, but here he is. Keeping my promise to write for all of Rob's characters at least once, here's Shane who stole our hearts in only a little over 6 minutes.

(Masterlist)

"Hey, do you have zinc left?" A voice behind you called.

"Yeah, pick a colour," you chuckled, pointing at your backpack while you carefully waxed your board.

Shane wasn't a stranger, but he also wasn't exactly your friend. He was more like an acquaintance, you bumped into each other sometimes at the Aileens and maybe talked for a minute or two, but so far that was it.

He was a nice guy, weirdly strong for how skinny he looked, and although his hair was definitely influenced by 2000s emo boy bands, he wasn't bad looking. In fact, you caught yourself looking forward to seeing him at times, not that you ever said anything.

"Oh shit…" Shane muttered, seeing the time on your phone when he tried to find the zinc.

"Everything okay?" You asked, suddenly worried he saw something you didn't even know you had in your bag. Your mind went through the endless possibilities from used condoms to dead rat, from bloody pads to human remains, maybe drugs or a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey.

"I forgot to take my insulin," he sighed, grabbing his own backpack to check if he even brought it.

"You're diabetic?" You mused. You felt stupid for not knowing, but it's not like the subject would've come up in conversation between you two.

"Mmhm," he nodded, taking the pen injector out and smiling. "Oh thank God I don't have to go all the way back home."

Although he seemed relieved to have found the medication, his face also clearly let his worry show. Even after a couple years of his diagnosis, Shane still wasn't so good at injecting himself and he was still quite scared of needles, which left him embarrassed whenever he had to do it in public.

He scrunched up his nose and looked at the applicator as if considering if that was a good idea or if he should just go home and ask for his mother's help again. On a good day, it took him about fifteen minutes just to get the nerve to do it, but he was already past his time and truly didn't wanna seem like a wimp in front of you.

"What is it?" You finally asked.

"Um… nothing."

"Are you scared?"

"I'm just not a fan of needles, that's all," Shane chuckled nervously, trying to sound as chill as possible.

You wanted to smile, it was adorable the way his voice faltered a little and how he tried to seem so nonchalant about the whole thing when he was clearly shaking like a leaf.

"You know, my little sister is diabetic, I've done this for her a few times, do you want me to try?" You offered without even thinking first. You were not that intimate, but somehow you just couldn't watch him struggle and do nothing about it.

"Really? Would you?" His face lit up.

"Yeah, no problem," you assured.

When he turned around for you to unzip his suit though, then you realized what you were doing and all the blood rushed to your face. You reached for the zipper and slowly pulled it down, exposing his back and his (quite nice) shoulders.

He pulled the suit off and you were able to see the lean muscles on his arms, the discreet treasure trail that started on his navel, and the adorable mole he had near his collarbone.

"Everything alright?" He asked this time noticing how you were paralyzed just staring.

"S-sure, sorry, I was just trying to remember if I locked the door when I left," you spewed the first bullshit excuse that popped into your head. "Can I do it?"

"Please," he set the right dosage and handed you the injector along with the little disinfectant tissue to clean the area before.

"Alright, look at me, don't focus on that," you instructed as you carefully wiped a spot on the side of his stomach. "When did you start surfing, Shane?"

"Well, I-" he flinched when he felt the needle approaching his skin, pulling away from you and almost making you laugh. "Sorry, I'll stay still."

"It's okay, just focus on the story," you encouraged, moving as fast as you could while still trying to do things swiftly enough for him not to notice.

"I started when I was ten, I saw Green Iguana and really wanted to do it myself," Shane started, not even realizing as you punctured his skin and pressed the top. "I didn't have lessons or anything, I just borrowed my mate's board and watched lots of videos for beginners, he helped me a little too…"

"All done," you put the cover back on the pen and gave it back to him. "But I'd love to hear more about how you started."

"Jesus, you really are good at that!" He gasped, looking down at his stomach in awe. "How did you do it so fast?"

"A magician never reveals their tricks," you teased. "Besides, if I tell you, you'll never ask me to do it again."

"Do it again?" Shane repeated, a little puzzled by the suggestion.

"Come on, the waves are looking great right now," you took your board before he could think more about the implications of what you just said.

"Wait! Wait, you really don't mind doing this for me?" Shane asked, taking his board as well and following you to the ocean.

You shook your head, involuntarily letting your eyes linger a little too long on his naked chest, which certainly made you blush once again.

"How about I thank you?" He finally seemed to understand why you were so flustered every time you two met and he had to admit he also felt that way. "We can grab something to eat on the way back, my treat."

"I'll think about it," you smirked before taking off and jumping in the water. "But you'll have to catch me first!"

Tag List: @elliethesuperfruitlover @salvador-daley @seanfalco @firstpersonnarrator

#fanfic #the clinic fanfic #shane #shane x reader #robert sheehan character fic #robert sheehan fanfic

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aquietwritingcorner · 7 months

Text

It's Okay Just to Say I'm Not Okay

Title: It’s Okay Just to Say I’m Not Okay Day: Whumptober 2023, Day 30 Prompt: “It’s okay just to say ‘I’m not okay’,” Borrowed Clothing/Bridal Carry/ “Not much longer” Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist Word Count: 1526 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: K/G Characters: Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye Warning: NA Summary: A young Roy and Riza get caught out in the rain while traveling back to Riza’s house through the woods. They take refuge in a hunting cabin, but Riza is mad at Roy for getting them lost—and might have hurt her ankle. Somehow, they’ll make it home. Notes: AO3 || ff.net

___________________________________

It's Okay Just to Say I’m Not Okay

Riza Hawkeye was mad. She was mad, she was drenched, she was cold, and her ankle hurt. And none of it would have happened if stupid Roy Mustang had just listened to her. She should have just walked away and let him get lost in the woods or something. Then he could be drenched and cold and probably still wandering around outside, and she would be in her house warm, dry, and without a hurt ankle.

She turned around to glare at him, being careful of her ankle, as he did his best to secure the door of the small hunting cabin they had broken into. It likely belonged to Old Man Earnst, and it was a fifty-fifty shot on whether he would be angry with them for being here or not. His wife, though, wouldn’t mind. But either way, for the moment, they were stuck here, and it was Roy Mustang’s fault.

He turned back around and froze for a second at her glare. Then he let out a sigh, and his shoulders dropped a little. “I’m sorry, alright?” he said. Riza continued to glare at him. “How was I supposed to know it was going to pour rain that quickly!” he said.

“Maybe by listening to me!” Riza shot back. “I told you those clouds looked like rain, and I told you they looked heavy with it!”

“That doesn’t mean it’s going to suddenly pour rain from the sky!” Roy shot back. “You’re twelve! You haven’t even studied meteorology at your school! Why would I believe you?”

“Maybe because I’ve got lived experience with this sort of thing where you don’t, city boy!” she mocked. “You might be sixteen, and you might have been here three years, but you still don’t know anything about how to live out here!”

“I know more than you think!” he shot back at her.

“Oh yeah?” she challenged, bringing her arms around herself again as she shivered. “Then tell me what we do now and see if it’ll get us out of this situation!”

Roy opened his mouth, still glaring at her, but quickly closed it again. He looked around the cabin, and then pulled a shirt and a pair of pants off of a wall. He threw them at her. “Here. Change out of your wet clothes at least. I’ll change after I get a fire going. Neither of us need to catch cold out here.”

Riza blinked at him, a little taken aback at the sudden change. Still, though, she took the clothes, and turned her back on Roy. “Fine,” she said. “But you face the other way while I change!”

“I will,” Roy said, and turned to the small pot-bellied stove in the corner.

Riza quickly divested herself of her wet clothes, having to peel her soaked stockings off of her legs, wincing when she peeled them off of her ankle. She was still a little wet, but the clothes, at least, were dry. She had to roll up the sleeves and the pants legs and grab a rope that was nearby to cinch the pants around her waist, but the dry clothes did make her feel warmer.

“I’m finished,” she said, keeping her tone firm as she turned around.

“Good,” Roy said, still not turning around. “I’ve got the fire going. I’ll change too, and then we’ll figure out what to do with our clothes.”

“Fine,” Riza said. She made her way over to the stove, doing her best to pretend that her ankle didn’t hurt.

She apparently did a good job, because Roy didn’t say anything about it. He took clothes and went back to where she had been while Riza settled herself down next to the stove. It felt warm and she closed her eyes, leaning into the heat. It didn’t take Roy long to change, and Riza heard him moving about the small cabin. She didn’t turn around to look, though, stretching out her leg and rotating her ankle around. She winced. Yeah, that hurt. That wasn’t good.

“I found a string,” Roy said, coming back towards her. “If we can get our clothes on it and put it up, they might dry faster.”

Riza eyed the string, and then their clothes. It was, she had to admit, a good idea. “I suppose so,” she said reluctantly. Roy looked at her oddly for her reluctance, but he didn’t comment. Riza pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the way her ankle felt, and helped. Once they got the clothes strung up, they both sat back down again, near the fire. Outside they could still hear the rain pouring in droves. For a while that, and the sound of the fire, were the only sounds that they heard. Finally, though, Roy spoke up.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. You’re right, you do have more experience. But I honestly thought that we had enough time,” he said.

Riza was silent for a moment. “…I shouldn’t have yelled at you. We probably would have gotten wet either way.” She glanced at him. “But I’m not apologizing for taking over the lead. You had no idea where we were.”

Roy grimaced. “I thought I did,” he said. “But I guess I didn’t.”

Riza huffed. “I’m out here hunting in these woods all the time. I don’t get lost out here.”

“I know, I know,” Roy said with an embarrassed grin. “But I just wanted to be able to do it.”

Riza frowned and turned her nose up. “You’ll have to do a lot more galivanting around the woods before you can do that, Mr. Mustang.”

Roy drew back a little and gave a mock bow. “Oh, forgive me, Miss Hawkeye. I didn’t know I had to gain so many hours of experience. I’ll add it to my regimen.”

There was a pause, before both of them relaxed and laughed a little.

“How long do you think the rain will last?” Riza asked.

“Hopefully, not much longer, but apparently I’m not very good with weather,” Roy said, slightly teasing.

Unfortunately, their hopes were dashed, and the rain lasted several more hours. By the time it let up, it was already dark outside. Neither of them was thrilled about the idea of walking through the woods in the dark, especially out in the rain, but they saw that there was very little choice. They put their own clothes—now mostly dry, although Riza skirts were a little damp—back on and headed out.

The one good thing about the dark, as far as Riza was concerned, was that it was good cover for her hurt ankle. She could limp around, and Roy didn’t take much notice of it, thinking she was being careful of branches and slick leaves. That was, until she found some of those branches and leaves.

In the dark, she didn’t see the raised root and tripped over it. The wet leaves on the ground gave her feet no purchase and she tumbled to the ground, her ankle twisting painfully.

“Riza!”

Roy stumbled to her side, trying to help her up. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m—I’m fine,” she said. “Help me up.”

Roy wrapped his hands around her arms and helped her to stand—only to catch her as she tried to put weight on her ankle and fell again. “You’re hurt!” he said.

“I’m fine,” Riza insisted.

Roy frowned and shook his head. “No, you’re not.” He sighed. “Riza, it’s okay just to say ‘I’m not okay’ you know. No one is going to think less of you.”

Riza stubbornly didn’t say anything, and Roy sighed again.

“How far are we from the house?” he asked.

“It’s not much longer,” Riza said. “I’d say another fifteen or twenty minutes?” Maybe slower now that she had really twisted her ankle. “I think I can make it—”

Riza was cut off as she was suddenly lifted up into Roy’s arms, giving a little squeak of surprise.

“Alright. I can do fifteen or twenty minutes of carrying you,” Roy said. “It’s not like you weigh much.”

Riza smacked his arm. “I weigh just fine, thank you!” she said. “And it would be easier for you to carry me on your back, then in your arms!”

Roy grinned. “I know. But this has better optics.”

Riza just stared at him. “You are. So weird. No one is going to see you out here.”

Roy shrugged. “You never know. Now—settle in and tell me where to go.”

Riza sighed and pointed out the direction they needed to go in, looping her arms around Roy’s neck to hopefully take some of the strain off of his arms.

It was still his fault that they were in this mess. But Riza wasn’t mad at him anymore. He was too silly to be mad at for too long, and this whole thing just proved it. Hopefully her father wouldn’t be mad at them, but if he was, he was. In the meantime, she’d let this silly city boy carry her home—and this time, she’d provide the directions from the get-go, so they wouldn’t get lost.

#Whumptober 2023 #no.30 #lyric #FMA #fullmetal alchemist #fanfic #young roy #young riza #roy mustang #riza hawkeye

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breaniebree · 2 years

Text

SNEAK PEEK

ASC Chapter 347 -- The One Where This Is Our Life, This Is Our Home

Seamus and Dean were standing guard over the North Tower.

They had eight archers with them, all third years, who were sending arrows down at the approaching army very successfully. Kellan Cork had arrived with another fae from the Royal Guard that they didn’t know and the fae were working alongside of the students, their bows ready. Two magizoologists had appeared ten minutes earlier with a large trunk between them. Dean and Seamus hadn’t had a chance to do more than nod in their direction as they gave orders to the archers and listened to Cork explain where they were going to fire the arrows in the first volley.

When the first few Death Eaters managed to make it pass the bridge, Seamus’ eyes met Dean’s.

Dean tapped his wand over the record player and the moment they attempted to reach the front doors, the charm on the music activated, blaring it out at them as the loud honking took over.

No!

We’re not gonna take it!

Oh no, we ain’t gonna take it!

We’re not gonna take it, anymore!

“Now!” Seamus yelled.

Flaming arrows sailed down into the front courtyard as fireworks erupted overhead to the beat of the drums; the lights bright enough to blind someone.

Seamus’ eyes widened in shock as fifty long necked birds sprung out of the trunk and dove down in front of the castle, honking obnoxiously. Their wings flapped loudly and Dean’s mouth hung open in surprise as they dive bombed the Death Eaters and the army below.

“What the fuck are those things?” Dean demanded.

“Those would be geese,” the woman said. “Canadian geese to be exact, but the locals like to call them Cobra Chickens.”

The honking grew louder and someone screamed.

Dean looked down, angling his omnioculars in time to see two geese chasing a Death Eater down the bridge. Its long neck stretching in its attempt to beak the chased. The robed figure tripped and fell on the cobblestone, the birds pecking at his robes, tearing into his hair and into his robes with such ferocity, it surprised him.

“Fuck! Vicious little bastards, aren’t they?” Seamus exclaimed.

“Yeah, no, for sure,” the woman said. “I’m Reagan, by the way, and let me tell you, their bite is more like a pinch, but it’ll draw blood well enough. Those suckers have wings that hit harder than a body check into the boards, bud. Trust me, it’s more of a shock than anything, eh.”

Dean snorted. “I’ll say.”

Seamus raised his arm as the Canadian geese flew off back towards the tower. “Fire!”

Another wave of flaming arrows landed below, leaving a fiery path preventing entrance into the castle.

Reagan whistled and the man on the tower across the way sent blue sparks into the air. Suddenly the geese were circling back and diving back down towards Voldemort’s army.

Seamus shot a sheepish look over at Reagan. “You know, I thought Canadians were supposed to be nice.”

“We are,” Reagan said with a smile. “The rumour is that all of our animosity went into our geese.”

The loud honking was followed by more screams as five geese took a troll down.

“Hey, St Louis!” Ouellette called out. “Let’s send half towards the forest. There’s another set of hosers coming in from the back. We can have them do it like the drills we practiced out on Boblo!”

“Yeah, no, for sure!” Reagan agreed.

“What’s a Boblo?” Dean asked.

Reagan chuckled. “Abandoned Muggle amusement park on Bois Blanc Island. We trained the Cobra Chickens there. Didn’t we, Raph?”

“Yeah, no, for sure,” Ouellette exclaimed. “We sent pucks flying as bait. They hit those biscuits harder than a slap shot into the net and let me tell you, they were right pissed off when they found out we’d tricked them. Eh, Reagan?”

She laughed. “You don’t want to mess with the Cobra Chickens.”

“I thought they were called geese?” Seamus asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Sorry, it’s a nickname we call them,” Ouellette said. “And let me tell you, it suits those fuckers.”

Dean looked over at Seamus, shaking his head in amusement. “Next wave, mate?”

Seamus nodded. “Next wave. Fire!”

More arrows rained down as fireworks cracked in the sky, blinding those below from seeing where the arrows were coming from and the music kept playing.

NO!

We’re not gonna take it!

Oh no, we ain’t gonna take it!

We’re not gonna take it, anymore!

Then there was a load roar.

Dean’s eyes widened in amazement as a huge dragon sailed down from the sky. A man with flaming red hair sat astride it; fire shooting from the large jaws of the dragon, and burning a path in the stone. Dragon fire burned so hot that it made a flaming wall, blocking off the entrance to the front of castle.

Seamus grinned. “Looks like the cobra chickens aren’t the only weapon we’ve got. Reload, babe!”

Dean ordered his unit to turn towards the back of the castle to let the next volley of arrows loose and the castle shook from the roar of the dragon.

No, it looked like they had a few more tricks up their sleeves after all.

#sneak peek asc #harry potter fanfiction #breanie #a second chance #a second chance by breanie #chapter sneak peek

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rexismycopilot · 1 year

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Rex I’m literally about to cry I’m so angry and frustrated. I’m a manager at my work and this new team lead is literally making my life hell tonight (a huge sales night like just second to Black Friday) like we’re all in our twenties and she’s causing so much drama I’m literally shaking

I’m just imagining Anakin and Obi wan curled up on the couch watching Christmas movies

Aw, Snow I'm so sorry you're having a hard day. I don' t know what it is about retail or customer service in general, but it can really bring out the worst in people.

If it helps, Anakin and Obi-Wan are definitely curled up watching cheesy Christmas movies because Anakin insisted that they do. Obi-Wan teases a little bit, but how can he say no? And it's not like he's not at all getting into them. Definitely not.

I really need to get that silly Christmas fic published that I wrote last year. I just feel like it's missing something... 🤔

But in the meantime! Have the teensiest little wip from the next chapter of Fifty Shades!

Anakin was more than a little glad that there wasn’t anyone else in the quiet space at the moment so that he could sit right next to Obi-Wan and snuggle close to him, but the clothespin was getting in the way.

He took it off and clipped it to the bottom of his skirt and snuggled in again. “I like this room,” Anakin whispered as Obi-Wan took a drink. He draped his legs over Obi-Wan’s lap and got as close as he could.

“Me too,” Obi-Wan replied, his voice maintaining a calm and even tone.

“Is this going to be too much for you?” Anakin asked quietly.

Obi-Wan chuckled softly and took another drink from his glass. “I just need to take a moment to acclimate myself, I think.” He set the glass down on a side table and wrapped his arms around Anakin. “And somebody already touched my baby boy and what am I supposed to do about that, hm?” he teased. Anakin grinned. “You’re not jealous are you?” he asked sweetly.

#ask #lielullabye #fifty shades au #obikin

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darbiebot · 2 years

Text

DWC August 2022 day 3- Sentimental

@daily-writing-challenge

Holden grunted in exertion as they crested the hill, his feet more accustomed to paved roads, he'd never really taken to the outdoors like his father, much to his chagrin. Unfortunately, his mother was far more used to travel as well, and there she was, waiting down the path on the other side, waiting for him. "Mom... slow down..." he complained catching his breath, the tone a bit more whiny than he'd intended, his mother's smirk was a bit embarrassing, made him feel like a child.

"Oh, i'm sorry, just exited! Peaks just down the way from 'ere, look!" she pointed eastward, and the young dwarf looked upon the large Gryphon statue overlooking the vast valley below. Hill dwarves were an apt descriptor, there were rolling roads going up and down hills all over, and little smokestacks and windows signifying several hundred homes within them.

"Why are you so excited, anyway?" he asked, again. "I dont think you mentioned any relatives that still lived here?"

Darlain sighed as she turned and headed down the path once more, "Now now, this was my 'ome, and this is me clan, and yer part o' that. Tradition's important lad, and you 'ave a choice tae make, just like all my children."

That peaked his curiosity. "You took Lorelei 'ere?"

His mother nodded. "Aye... though uhh... she made a surprisin' choice." His eyebrow raised at that, and he hurried to match her pace.

His answer would come as they met with clan elders, had a hearty meal at the inn, and finally met with the local shaman, dressing him up in simple robes adorned with gryphon downs.

He was led up the pathways carved into the mountains to the north, and he saw them, perched within carved out holes in the mountain, at least fifty large gryphons, some watchful, some enjoying naps, some messily tearing into prey they had brought back to their roosts.

An elderly man, his beard long and grey, adorned in a feathered headband, his face and arms painted in elaborate blue tattoos. His mother bowed before him, and Holden mirrored his movements. "Come, boy, we'll let her take a look at you." Holden eyed his mother curiously as he was lead into the main Aerie, and his mother simply smiled and encouraged him onward.

"We wild'ammer," the man spoke as they walked. "'ave an understandin' with these majestic creatures, lad. And though you 'ave nae been raised in the 'interlands, yer blood still speaks our covenant with them."

"What do y'mean?" Holden inquired, nervously.

"Gryphons require a lot o' food tae keep goin, mothers kin wear themselves out feeding themselves, much less their children. Used tae be a time where entire clutches would be lost, even in prosperous times. They used tae 'unt us, though meager was out meat compared to larger game.... so tae save ourselves, far and long ago, we lived under 'ills, and shared our kills, till they learned we were better alive."

The two stopped at a large nest, a proud, gold and brown feathered Gryphon looked up in anticipation eying three eggs still nestled in what was a much larger nest, her head cocked curiously seemingly sizing up Holden with an unnerving intelligence behind her eyes.

"Over time, we were permitted in their spaces, just as they joined us in ours. They 'unted the wyverns that plagued the skies and still 'unted us, we made spaces, aeries, for them to roost. And when the mothers were forced tae abandon some of their clutch... we took them. And we raised 'em tae bear our warriors. This 'as been the way of things fer thousands o' years. Tae the point where... that is what is done."

He held out a shaky hand to the gryphon's beak, petting her affectionately. "This'll be the last egg of 'er clutch she'll be giving to us tae care fer. And as a child o' one of our clan, you'll be 'aving a choice. Which o' the eggs will yeh be taking... if ya be taking on the charge at all?"

Holden smiled to himself, now knowing why his mother had brought him here. How she had once been given this choice, how much finding Patience alive had affected her, he remembered seeing her cry when she'd taken him on his first flight with the old Gryphon. How exhilarating it had been for him to soar above the clouds.

As he approached the mother, she lowered her head, and instinctually, he raised his hand to press against her forehead. She pressed towards him affectionately, but with enough force to catch him offguard, sending him off his feet, eliciting a worried coo from her. laughing a bit at his lack of constitution, Holden got to his feet... and chose his egg. He picked the smallest of the three. walking out to show his mother.

Her smile was infectious, he couldn't help but share in her joy.

#augustdwc2022 #augustday32022

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starman-rat · 2 years

Text

Not As It Seems: Chapter 4

Thomas, after a long day of working on projects assigned by Mr. Agrawal, let out a breath as he leaned back in his office chair. This is another routine he could get lost in too, he thinks. Typing on his keyboard, headphones on, music playing-- it’s nice. This is easy, this is okay. Monotony and something to get lost in.

Which makes the chaos of his life all the more exhausting when the peace is broken, his phone buzzing on the desk next to his mousepad. Fumbling, he threw his headphones down off of his head and picked up his phone, lifting it to his ear as he stood to walk into one of the small privacy offices.

“Tom? It’s Sally. Nicholas-- We’re on our way to the hospital.” The panic in the nurses’ voice makes Thomas’ eye twitch and his fingertips crackle. He shoves them into his pocket, pushing his back against the wall.

“What’s happened?” Despite the fact that he felt like he was going to throw up, Thomas managed a calm facade.

“They think it’s a stroke, hon. Can you get off work early? It doesn’t look good.”

Fuck. Shit. No, this can’t be happening. Three years of moving around and changing scenery and trying to make things work only to lose the thing he was so desperately trying to hang on to. This can’t happen. Anything but this.

“I’ll--” The crack in his voice makes him flinch, another flicker at his fingertips, the fresh smell of rain fills the office as his control slips on his magic.. God, he has to keep it together. “I’ll call a taxi. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“Alright, lad. I’ll keep you updated, yeah?”

The phone stays in its place by his ear for the next few minutes as Thomas takes deep breaths and tries to calm his nerves. Father would be okay. Nicholas Monroe was one tough man, and he would stick around. He’d promised Thomas he’d be there. He’d be okay. “You alright, Thomas?” David poked his head into the room, knuckles rapping against the door. His posh accent made his tone soft, and it took everything in Thomas to muster a small nod. “Yeah-- I-- My father is being taken to the hospital. Is-- Can I?”

“Say no more, mate. Family comes first. Let me know if you need tomorrow too, yeah?”

“Thanks, Mr.-- Ah, sorry, David. I appreciate you.”

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

David had originally wanted to confront the boy.

After hours of researching who the real Thomas McCormick was, He had chewed the end of a pencil to hell trying to figure out how this kid-- a perfect carbon copy of a dead teen-- was currently working in the computer lab in his section.

Apparently, Allah had other plans.

It was now three hours later, and after puzzling over newspaper articles and police reports, David thought he had earned himself a drink.

“Ivanka, I have had quite the day! One of the new interns is doing my head in.” David slid into his normal booth, opening his menu and looking up to see…. Not Ivanka.

“Sorry, Mate, Ivanka called in. I thought you’d heard…” Richard, a pudgy fifty-some year old waiter who’d been working this joint since the late 80s, frowned down at him. “Something about ‘her kid?”

“Oh, shit! I’ll have to text her later. Do you know what happened?”

“Not much. Her nanny took ‘im to the hospital and she said she couldn’t come in.”

David leaned back in the booth, brows furrowed. Crazy coincidence. David shook his head slowly, looking back up at Richard. “I’ll start with the strongest shot of whiskey you have, mate.”

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

Well, the magic certainly wasn’t new, as they had previously thought. No, the magic had always been there. Like a subtle buzz of a fluorescent light, it had flown under the radar until it either got louder or stopped altogether.

And this incessant buzzing had gotten louder.

What Aurelias had been picking up on was overexertion. Exhaustion from an elongated game of hide and seek. From what Viktor could tell with the strong smell of bergamot and the soft smell of fresh rain was that the witch he was looking for was wearing a protection spell, masking themself and hiding among the pale-blooded humans. But a scent was not enough, and this temporary exhaustion would pass when their little lion had the chance to cover themself once more.

That meant Viktor had to act quickly. He had to play chess with a ghost, one who knew he lurked in the shadows. For such a clever little witch, he would need a clever spell and a very clever plan.

The circle was set against the hardwood floors of the chapel-- a repurposed building in the college campus-turned-coven. Dark lambs' blood made up the circle, with two eye-shaped rings that made a smaller circle in the middle where they overlapped. In the center, a dark splotch of black paint represented the pupil of Aurelias’ eye. Where the two eyes’ corners touched the circle, a candle burned, the only light by which the disciples worked as they laid sand outside the entirety of the circle. Viktor knelt in the center of the circle, taking the knife in his hand and cutting into his palm. As the blood dripped onto the pupil, gestured for one of his attendants to bring in the last piece of the ritual; A pet of the Fae.

Aurelias had a few pets, but Noah was favored among them. Sweet, soft-spoken and ruthlessly clever, the boy had been a very good find. He had traded his freedom in for a friend, one who had been the original target of Aurelias’ collection. He was the perfect vessel between worlds, and his skin and blood sang with earth magic so powerful it was truly as though he was meant to be a faepet.

The ginger-headed boy was led into the center of the circle, where he was guided to kneel facing Viktor. He was blindfolded, using his hands to find Viktor’s. With one hand he touched the floorboards where the pupil was etched, and with the other he gently grazed over Viktor’s bloody palm, his fingers tingling. He gasped as his vision came into view, guided by fae magic and letting himself be possessed by Aurelias.

A woman, Viktor. His fae whispered, the deep voice unnatural through a boy of barely twenty. You’ll find her in a pub. Milton’s. Middle-aged, dark hair and gray eyes. Noah will know the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST!! @pigeonwhumps, @emmettnet, @serenitydusk, @winedark-whump

#this took two weeks!! im sorry!#college is hard :/#hope you enjoy! last chapter before i go nuts hehe #thomas mccormick #david agrawal #viktor pearce #ivanka popov #not as it seems #anderson drabbles :)

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lindyloosims · 2 years

Text

“It’s okay to miss her, I know you love her!”

“You’ve been so good to me, I don’t want to...hurt you!”

“Shawn...”

“I just feel I have to make it clear that...”

“...Lizette, there can never be anything between us other than mentor and student, I do love Hallie and only Hallie, I hope I...” Lizette let out an unexpected laugh, “...what?”

“Shawn baby, oh! You’re not my type!”

“I’m...” I shook my head in confusion.

“If you hadn’t noticed by the art work around my home, I don’t swing that way baby boy!”

“Oh!” I felt so stupid, there was something between us, but obviously like me, Lizette felt that our bond was merely platonic.

“You see I too pine for someone who is unreachable to me, I see her every night but I don’t even know if she actually sees me!”

“Toni?” I asked her quietly, and she nodded.

“After we rescued her from the werewolves, I nursed her back to health. Werewolf bites are deadly to vampires, they poison us slowly and excruciatingly. Vikram is old friends with L. Faba, the Sage of Mischief Magic, she created a cure made from the blood of a very old werewolf who only appears once every fifty years...we were very lucky. It took months for Toni to recover, but I sat by her bedside until she did!”

Lizette smiled sadly, “She never noticed, or at least she never said thank you or that she owed me her life. Not that I did it for that but...” She squeezed my hand, “...oh you know what I mean!”

“I do, and I’m sorry I assumed...it’s just that Elena wanted something from me and I just...why are you helping me?”

“You remind me of my brother, Hector, your heart is as pure as his! You are a good and kind boy, just like him! I do love you Shawnie, like a brother, and since we were made by the same vampire, as far as I’m concerned that’s exactly what you are to me...my brother!”

“So that’s what this is!”

“What baby boy?”

“This feeling, this thing between us, it’s love but...like sibling love! I get it now!”

“We are bonded you and I, I’ve never felt this close to anyone before! I was robbed of my beautiful Hector and it left a hole inside of me, but you fill that hole, my beautiful Shawnie! My baby boy!”

“I’ve never had a sister, just big dumb Lance who’d die for me! Now I have you both!”

“Yes you do, and I promise you will get Hallie back! You’re making such good progress and you’re almost ready to go back out there and use the skills I’ve taught you, I’m so proud of you!” She no longer referred to Hallie as Gennie, spending so much time with me she now saw her for who she really was, Hallie Campbell not Genevieve Chambers!

“Thanks, that means a lot, sis!”

She talked me through what she wanted me to do in the next few days, I was to find a donor and feed from them without going too far. She wanted to know if I could handle it, if not the blood bags would sustain me for the rest of my unlife, but she said it would be beneficial if I could safely drink straight from the vein. I stood a better chance against Grayson if I could. She was also going to take me to Forgotten Hollow to meet the elusive Count Vladislaus Straud, something that scared me and had my stomach doing knots!

<Previous_Next>

#TheTartosaVampire #ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4

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rancidmeat09 · 2 years

Text

Faces - Clio, Roberto Ferrante

Glimmering lights. Darkness of the blue stage. Peppered sparkles and wall string decorations bought for fifty-five cents. The scent of my crush’s cologne wafting into my nose as we hold one another. He’s looking into my eyes tenderly, holding my waist, my itty-bitty waist with his strong hands. His smile is so gentle. And he’s looking right into me, so much and so hard that all I want to do is look away and into the crowd around us. The faces of my classmates whom I’ve known for years, the giggles of the girls on my elementary school softball team and the smirks of the boys who go to my church and they’re all looking at each other and hugging and dancing and holding hands and kissing and Robert’s hazel eyes turn to mud and his perfectly-fluffed up hair looks a nappy mess and he’s getting closer, closing his eyes, his face angling and his lips poking towards mine and I’m going to be sick. I say sorry Robert, or sorry mom and dad, or I’m so disgusting and I rush away from him and maybe trip over my foot a little bit and rush to the girls’ bathroom with staling yellow lights and chipping tiles off the walls with maroon and teal stripes and I throw up into the sink. I taste nothing but the savory flavor of the beef steak I just had with Trisha and Jackson and Robert at our fancy pre-prom dinner, the Coca-Cola acid burning the back of my tongue, and the aftertaste of the stale marijuana brownie that Trisha and I thought would be funny to take while we were doing each other’s makeup.

I fucked up her eyebrows so bad but she thought they looked great. I gave her an awesome smokey eye though and her lips only took one try for me to apply the red lipstick perfectly, but I kept wiping at it and trying over and over and over and over again because the contour of the shape of her lips was mesmerizing and I kept theorizing about how the shape of her lips would feel in between mine as I traced them over. I want to see her now. The red of her lipstick is just as red as the goop running down the sink drain. I’m going to die aren’t I? I blink and the vomit-stream is actually a healthy shade of orange, just lit weird by the bathroom lights. I’m sweating cold and my head feels like it’s going to fall off its socket.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no. Keep it together. I love Robert. I’m so, so in love with Robert it hurts. I want to marry him. I want to kiss his mustached lips and touch his touchable penis and sit on it until I have his children. I want to have his children and his grandchildren and his great-great-great-great grandchildren. I want my mom and dad to love me and I want my tight-lipped grandmother to love me and I want to love myself. Another round of bile rises from my stomach, this time all-acid, paddling my esophagus in slow motion and folding my throat in on itself. Trisha held my hair back the last time this happened. No. I use every ounce of strength in my body to keep it together. I swallow it down, feeling the fire drip back into my system through fractioned streams of denial.

I exit the bathroom. Robert is standing just outside of the doorway patiently. He asks if I’m okay. I stare. Then I smile at him.

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ladybugout-au · 3 years

Note

Dear. GOD. After seeing Furious Fu, I would honestly love to see LBO!Marinette just chewing out Su-Han for all his canon-to-fic BULLSHIT. Like, I know you’ve already got a plan to incorporate Feast into LBO, which I’m super excited for, so this asshole showing up with all his nonsense after the new Team Miraculous is set, hell maybe even after they’ve already retrieved the Butterfly and the Peacock, and watching Marinette (and possibly Fu since he has the memories to stand up for himself) tear this dude a new one would really be the cherry on top of an already awesome fic. Sorry to rant in your inbox lol but the new episode just made me so. ANGRY.

In the lounge room of the Liberty, everyone jumped as they heard a noise from up above deck, as if something heavy had fallen or been dropped. Marinette briefly pulled away from Luka’s hold, staring up at the ceiling and wondering aloud, “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Juleka admitted, exchanging concerned looks with Rose.

“That definitely wasn’t Mom,” Luka noted with a tilt of his head.

Pounding footsteps followed, making it clear that a person had clearly gotten on the houseboat without the gangplank being there.

Nino jolted on alert, turning to Duusu with a hushed whisper. “Hide!”

“All of you,” Kagami began, standing up and looking around vaguely at every kwami. “get out of sight.”

The kwami, breaking out of their trance after the brief scare, scattered in every direction to find their own individual hiding places, some choosing to hide with their respective holder and others preferring to hide behind or inside objects. Ivan went into his usual protective mode, wrapping an arm around Mylene while she clung to him.

Marinette stood up, rushing over to the table and picking up the Miracle Box to stow it away. She looked around, then dashed for the microwave and stored the box inside.

She shut the door just in time for the intruder to descend from the staircase: an old man, dressed in Chinese garb and carrying a strange mystical-looking staff. He had a stern expression, his brows knitted together as he scanned the room like none of them were even there. He raised his staff, his gaze eventually locking on the microwave the Marinette was standing near.

Without a word, he pushed Marinette aside, earning an offended, “Excuse me—hey!” from her as he grabbed the microwave door and tugged it. When that did little more than jostle the microwave itself, he tried blindly tampering with the buttons to no avail.

Marinette slapped his wrist away, standing with all her pride as guardian as she asked, “What do you think you’re doing?!”

He glared at her in response. “Young lady, I demand you open your magical sealing chamber and return what’s rightfully mine!”

She blanked, the words catching her completely off-guard. This guy thought their microwave was a magical sealing chamber?

In response, Marinette gave a brief glance to the others, who were all looking back at her with equally puzzled expressions, any tension from before completely gone.

An unspoken question echoed throughout the room: Is he for real?

Before Marinette could ask any further, Tikki emerged from her hiding spot, flying over and explaining, “Marinette, I know who this is! This is great master Su-Han, the guardian of the Miracle Box!”

Marinette raised a brow skeptically. “But I’m the guardian?”

“He was responsible for the box before the incident that Master Fu caused,” she corrected.

Su-Han looked down at Marinette condescendingly. “So you are the current holder of the box.”

“That’s right,” she confirmed unapologetically. She gave a side-glance to Luka and the others, seeing that they were prepared to stand up and fight for her, but she gave a subtle gesture to let them know that it wasn’t necessary. Resolving to deal with Su-Han herself, she faced him again. “How did you find us?”

He held out his staff, the jewel on it mere centimeters from her face. “Guardian scepters are equipped with compasses that can find their Miracle Box at any given time.”

“In case you lose it?” Marinette blurted out, but didn’t apologize or try to take it back.

“Insolent!” Su-Han gasped. “You are not even a proper guardian. I can tell that this box hasn’t even been properly passed down to you!”

“Because Master Fu gave it to me,” she explained, “and we agreed that he should keep his memories.”

“Fu?” Su-Han echoed. “You mean Wang Fu? Chicken legs?”

Is this guy five? Marinette wondered.

Orikko popped out from their hiding place, waving a paw at Su-Han as if in warning. “I take offense to that!”

Su-Han glared at Orikko at the comment, and Orikko quickly ducked back down. Turning his attention back to Marinette, he continued, “Wang Fu is a student who wasn’t even able to fast for a day, nor do a thousand finger-pushups. He was never a rightful guardian, and he failed to fulfill the hope we’d seen in him.”

“Master Fu may have made mistakes, but he’s done his best to make up for all of them!” she argued. “He protected the box for over one hundred years and it’s because of his choices that our team was able to defeat Hawk Moth!”

“Team?” Su-Han asked, his face scrunching up as if he were piecing something together.

“Yes!”

Marinette gestured to her boyfriend and friends for emphasis. Luka, Ivan, Kagami, and Juleka stood while Rose and Nino pinched and stretched their shirts to show off their respective miraculouses.

“Children?” Su-Han gaped. Glaring at Marinette, as if she had personally given out the miraculouses herself, he declared, “Children are never meant to hold miraculouses, especially from the first and most powerful Miracle Box! Kwami are extremely powerful, cosmic creatures!”

A voice piped up from across the room. “Y-you say that, but—!”

Marinette and Su-Han turned to look at Nooroo, who had peeked out from behind Rose’s shoulder. He breathed up, seeming to gain some confidence, then floated out to the center of the room.

“They saved me and Duusu from the hands of evil! We would still be in Gabriel’s clutches if not for them!”

“What?” Su-Han asked. Just when Marinette thought they might be getting somewhere, he turned back to her and accused, “The peacock and butterfly were lost?!”

“Fu lost them when he was escaping the temple,” Marinette explained, a mixture between unphased and annoyed at the man’s outbursts, “but we got them back and everything’s okay now.”

Luka chimed in from his place near the couch, “Marinette has been an incredible leader, as both Ladybug and the guardian.”

She smiled at him in thanks, but Su-Han was clearly focused on anything but the positives.

“Ladybug? You’re even wearing a miraculous?! Guardians aren’t meant to hold miraculouses!” he said, throwing his arms out for effect.

“What—why?” she asked, genuinely confused.

Instead of answering her, Su-Han pulled out a book, shoving it pointedly towards her with the cover facing downwards in his palm. “Let me remind you of a few important rules you’ve violated.” He flipped through a few pages, then pointed at one of them. “Rule fourteen: Kwami must not live outside of the box.” He flipped through a few more. “Rule fifty-two: Guardians must never lose a miraculous. “He flipped to a page near the end. “Rule one hundred and thirty-three: Guardians must never, under any circumstances, wear a miraculous.”

“Master Fu wore a miraculous,” she argued, having never heard of any such rule from him.

“And that proves exactly what I’m talking about!” Su-Han retorted. “Neither you nor Fu are capable guardians because neither of you have respected the rules of the order!”

“...”

When Marinette initially imagined the Order of the Guardians and the people who ran it, this was not what she’d pictured. She had pictured zen and calm, not belligerent and immovable. She was reminded vaguely of her grandfather when she first met him, and that wasn’t a good thing.

She tossed another gaze at everyone, who gave her the same look and nod in response: let him have it.

“Young lady, I’ll repeat myself once,” Su-Han warned. “Return the Miracle Box and the miraculouses to me before--”

Marinette grabbed the book out of his hand, shut it with a satisfying “clap,” then set it back in his hand. “No.“

“What did you say?” he asked, aghast that she would speak to him that way.

“I said no.” Marinette advanced on him, the sheer force of her presence making him take a step back. “Now let me remind you about everything you must’ve missed this whole time.”

She raised a finger at him, raising additional fingers as she went on. “One: You intruded on my boyfriend’s house without any sort of permission. If you’d actually called out to us, we might’ve actually been willing to come out and listen to what you had to say. Two: You wouldn’t have even been able to be here in the first place if not for me using Miraculous Ladybug after our team took down Feast, which you weren’t able to do. Three: We aren’t children, we’re teenagers, and the fact that you can’t tell the difference or bother learning what technology is shows that I shouldn’t trust you with the Miracle Box even if you had a right to it. Four: You didn’t bother to listen and blamed me for losing miraculouses when it was you and your order who didn’t keep an eye on a poor boy who didn’t want to be there. Five, last but not least: I say the kwami are allowed out of the Miracle Box because I am the guardian. You and your order have been gone for over one hundred years and you can’t go making demands after I brought you back. You told me rules I didn’t even know about and didn’t explain why you have those rules in the first place. The kwami are my friends and they have feelings and I’m not going to shut them in a box because you told me to.”

Silence filled the room, no one saying a word and Su-Han’s face contorting between shock and outrage.

Marinette took a step back, standing at the ready and gesturing to herself. “So if you want the Miracle Box, you’re going to have to go through us first.”

She tossed a look at her team, all of them doing a synchronized, confrontational motion to face Su-Han.

“Tikki!”

“Plagg!”

“Wayzz!”

“Pollen!”

“Trixx!”

“Nooroo!”

“Duusu!”

They then shouted in unison, “Transform me!”

Several individual flashes meshed together, overtaking the room and then fading to leave several heroes behind, their weapons equipped for battle.

Su-Han looked amongst them, a flicker in his eyes that hinted that he knew he would be outmatched, but also wasn’t willing to admit it. He retreated a few steps back, hands out to show that he was prepared to defend himself.

It was at that moment that Ladybug heard and noticed movement from behind him, realization striking and a smile overtaking her face. Pulling back from her fighting pose, she placed a hand on her hip and stated confidently, “Captain Anarka will escort you out.”

He looked confused, and he was only able to let out a, “What—?” before a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Su-Han wasn’t even able to turn around before he was pulled backward, a jewelry-adorned fist decking him in the face and sending him flying into the staircase. His scepter fell to the floor and he could only gape at the woman standing there, cracking her knuckles while he was sprawled out on the stairs with all air having been knocked out of him.

“A trespasser on my ship, eh?” Anarka asked, a grin on her face but her eyes glinting with malice. “I don’t take kindly to ship rats who threaten my crew and think they’re too good to walk the plank.”

Su-Han hurried to get up, only for Anarka to grab him by his shirt and haul him up the stairs, a rapid shuffling noise following as Ladybug went over and shut the door.

A few seconds passed and the atmosphere shifted to peace, everyone mutually releasing their transformations and relaxing. Marinette smiled reassuringly at everyone, letting them know that things were okay, but then jumped as she heard a resounding, “Marinette!”

The kwami all emerged from their hiding places, Marinette having no time to react as they all charged at her, their tiny bodies clinging affectionately to whatever they could grab of her.

“You’re amazing!”

“Thank you so much!”

“You stood up for us!”

“You’re the best guardian ever!”

Marinette gasped, finding it hard to move without disturbing any of them. Trying hard not to laugh, she protested, “Aha—hey! Stop, you’re all tickling me!”

She blushed, looking over at her teammates who were only staring at her with pride, which just made the pink on her cheeks turn red. “This is so embarrassing!”

Once the kwami had their fill of thanking her, they finally obeyed and flew away, each giving her smiles of approval. She covered her face with a hand, waiting for the shyness to die down, then noticed the guardian scepter out of the corner of her eye, still lying on the ground.

She approached, touching the scepter at first to make sure it was safe, then properly picking it up and letting it stand next to her. She tapped the gem on top, eyeing the compass that Su-Han had been talking to her about, then followed its direction back to the microwave. She walked over, opening it up, then took out the Miracle Box and held it in her free hand.

Looking back and forth between the two clearly ancient objects, she couldn’t help chuckling. “They don’t really suit me.”

Her friends giggled in response, Luka in particular shooting her a warm smile and approaching. One of his hands went to the scepter and the other went to rest on the Miracle Box.

“I think you make them work, actually,” he replied.

Marinette beamed at him, thoroughly warmed by the compliment. It didn’t feel like that long ago when her support was lacking and defeating Hawk Moth seemed like a pipe dream.

Now, holding the Miracle Box and scepter in her hands, she didn’t know why she’d ever doubted herself.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Then, looking at the Su-Han-less room, she gave a shrug and walked back with Luka to the couch. “So, where were we?”

#((Technically spoilers for post-Hawk Moth stuff but nothing you guys don't already know.))#((For the record anon I'm still debating on doing ''Feast''))#((because it's a direct episode rewrite which LadyBugOut doesn't have so I'm nervous about it))#((I figured this might be a good start though.))#((I imagine Team Miraculous would have everything resolved by the time S4E6 hits))#((so hence the time jump.))#collab: LadyBugOut AU #canonicity: all #canonicity: canon compliant #writing: all #writing: canon compliant #writing: salt #character: marinette dupain cheng #group: team miraculous #salt: all #salt: other

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