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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

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too old to trick or treat (too young to die) // charlotte&lola (penny&jupiter)

Summary: Two Halloween costumes Tommy witnesses the creation of, twenty years apart. His cousin’s, and her daughter’s.

A/N: 4001 words. knocked this out in literally 3 hours. okay so The Road Warrior didn’t come out until December of ‘81, and Supergirl didn’t come out until ‘84, but whatever, the timeline has been massaged for a number of reasons, bare with me, suspend your disbelief abt halloween costumes. ANYWAYS this came to me very suddenly and i had to write it. i’ve had enough angst, so have cute charlie & penny halloween moments now instead please and thank you. @misscharlottelee as always owns my heart w/ her characters. also mild sexual references in the first part bcos of mishearing something/misunderstanding a situation.

[ part of the charlotte&lola au of Run to Paradise ]

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In 1981, Tommy dresses as Mad Max for Halloween; all pulled back hair, and a truly awful attempt at an Australian accent. He’s even butchered a leather jacket he’d found second-hand, much to the rest of the household’s horror. He’s pretty proud, despite Mick telling him to shut up since Tommy refuses to stop using the accent.

Mick’s not wearing a costume, and isn’t going out with the rest of the band and the girls, he’s only here to give his opinions on their costumes, and drink with them until they leave.

Nikki’s made no secret of the fact that he’s going as that guy from A Clockwork Orange, which, okay, is actually surprisingly subdued for his usual going out attire, and Vince would not shut up about the all-white suit he bought to be John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Something about both Vince and Nikki in all white makes Tommy think everyone’s going to ask if they’re both the same character, regardless of their various accessories, and they’re both going to be mad as all hell by the end of the night; if he had to hazard a guess, Tommy’s pretty sure he’s going to find it incredibly funny, and Nikki’s going to chase him down The Strip for laughing.

Lola’s had her hair in rollers all day, and came home the other week with a legally obtained, sparkly, black, singlet, which was kind of a big deal when Lola either lives in the bands’ clothes, or steals herself pants that actually fit. Her actual costume, however, is escaping him, right up until Tommy walks into the bathroom, to see Lola, in said singlet, black underwear, and nothing else, sitting patiently while Charlotte diligently applied dark eyeshadow further up lola’s brow than he’d been expecting.

“Frank N Furter?” Tommy asked, pleased and amused, still in his attempt at an Australian accent. Both Charlotte and Lola made a face at that, but Lola confirmed after a beat, lips overdrawn, shiny, a deep berry red. The idea that Lola had ever seen Rocky Horror Picture Show in cinemas enough to dress up as it’s main character was a strangely humanizing idea for the often-seemingly feral roadie.

After a moment, however, Tommy takes in his cousin’s attire; she looks incredibly pretty, of course Charlie’s naturally pretty, but she’d gone out of her way to highlight it tonight. White dress, little tiara atop her head, makeup understated and still somehow glamorous, her hair’s still dark from where she and Lola had died it a few weeks ago in the wake of her split with Duff. Maybe they’d re-dyed it.

“You look pretty, Charlie, who are you meant to be?”

“You know you sound British, right, not Australian?” Charlotte doesn’t look up from where she’s working on Lola’s face.

“Shut up, you don’t even know anyone British,” Tommy counters, nose in the air, “and you haven’t even seen Mad Max, so shut it, you don’t know what an Australian accent sounds like.” And he’s haughty for all of a minute before he’s coming back with, “but seriously, who are you?”

A wicked grin spreads across his cousin’s lips.

“That’s for me to know -”

“- us to know.” Lola corrects quickly.

“Us to know,” Charlotte agrees, “and you to find out.”

Super ominous. Charlotte’s been cagey about her Halloween costume since they’d decided to hit The Strip on Halloween as a group. Usually, Charlotte’s overflowing with excitement about her costume, back in high school, she’d roped him, Vince, and a few of their friends into being the Scooby Gang. She’s been various animals, movie characters, and last year, she’d spent almost a month putting together a truly gorgeous Cinderella costume. For all that she was detailed about her costumes, he’d always known her to play it safe.

But this year she’s been quiet. It’s unusual. Tommy blames Lola entirely.

The girls allow Tommy to stay in the bathroom until Lola’s face is done, and then, instead of leaving, they both demand he get out, closing the door after him, giggling conspiratorially like teenagers.

“What’s their problem?” Nikki asks, attempting to apply eyeliner, though the only reflective surface he had was Mick’s sunglasses, and Mick looked about ready to throw him through a window for getting so close, and so Tommy moves on instinct, snatching the stub of an eyeliner pencil from Nikki’s grip, beckoning him out of Mick’s personal space.

“Not sure; they’re either hooking up, or plotting to kill us,” Tommy muses, trying his hardest to not poke Nikki in the eye.

“Hot?” Nikki sounds like he’s not quite sure about that sentiment himself.

They can hear Lola and Charlotte talking in low voices, indistinctly in the bathroom, and clattering, and then - Take off your fucking heels! - Charlie, loud and nervous, followed by some begrudging grumbling from Lola. Scuffling, more clattering, and grunting.

“They’re definitely hooking up,” Nikki mutters. Tommy’s turning red. He’s not a prude, Christ, not even close, but... Charlie wouldn’t... right? Not when she knew how thin the walls were... Not with Lola, surely!

“Let go of me, I don’t need you to steady me -!” Lola now, and Nikki’s stepping back, laughing at the look on Tommy’s face. He’s not quite sure how he feels about the idea of him and his cousin both having -

“You’re shaking, you’re going to drop it!”

What?

Silence, a few more indistinct, now muttered words, far quieter, far calmer, then - a loud, strange rush of liquid, like the shower being turned on, but much more immediate and shorter.

“Holy shit, dude!” Lola’s yell radiates through the whole house, followed by a loud clatter, like something empty being dropped on the tiles, and Charlotte’s response is too quiet to hear. It’s followed by what is distinctly the sound of the hair dryer, and by now, all three men in the living room are just confused.

Vince finally surfaces from his and Tommy’s room almost ten minutes later, hair appropriately slicked back, white suit impeccable, making a beeline for the fridge, equally confused.

“What the fuck is happening in there?” He asks, joining the other three, currently cutting up lines of coke on a plate, in the living room.

“I still think they’re hooking up,” Nikki says, frowning down, as if the intensity of his gaze will keep his hand from shaking where he’s trying to cut the coke.

“Wishful thinking,” Mick grumbles, sitting back and taking a long sip of his vodka.

“Pretty sure lesbian sex doesn’t involve hairdryers,” Vince has to agree, and Tommy’s frown deepens.

“They’re not -”

“Fuckin’ semantics, man, sex without guys, you know what I meant,” he headed Tommy’s protests off before he could properly speak them, and Tommy’s own frown deepened. Mick looks like he wants to protest, but also knows all three men far to well to have any illusions about the abhorrent range of pornography they had consumed.

The hair dryer turns off.

“You wouldn’t have half a fuckin’ clue about what real lesbian sex was like,” is what Mick chooses, instead, to say, and Vince flips him off, right as the bathroom door bursts open, and Lola, comically wide-eyed, stumbles out, what looks like blood splattered on her shins and thighs, high heels in one hand.

“Holy shit,” she’s gasping, laughing, disbelieving, “you guys are not fucking ready for this,” she’s looking altogether like a delighted Frank N Furter about to reveal and revel in her latest creation. The guys are so caught up in seeing Lola in her costume, that seeing Charlotte coming out after her is like being hit by a train.

She’s covered in blood. Head to toe, apart from her face, which she must have been covering with her hands. Bright right. Face serious and eyes wide and Tommy knows that expression, that look, that blood -

“Carrie!” He exclaims, “Fucking Hell, Charlie!” He announces at the top of his lungs, and Charlotte’s expression cracks to a bright smile, to delight at being recognized.

“It’s paint!” Charlotte announces, giving a spin, and suddenly the hairdryer, the chatter, the confusion made sense.

“Charlotte, you look fucking killer,” Nikki’s got a look in his eyes that reads as both intimidated and turned on, a look usually reserved for Lola, but Charlotte doesn’t seem to notice.

“Peach and Eileen are going to fucking scream,” Lola was absolutely delighted at this prospect, doing a line of coke when Nikki offered it, before pulling on her heels.

Charlotte is beaming, looking cool as hell, and delighted with how the whole costume turned out.

Only later that night will any of the boys discover the murder-scene the girls had left behind in the bathtub in their excitement to hit The Strip. Tommy feels like he’ll never get the image of the blood splattered tub out of his mind.

Which is why he finds it so baffling that he’s blindsided by it exactly twenty one years later.

In 2002, Charlotte’s daughter, Penny, now all of twenty years old, the exact age Charlie had been that iconic Halloween, and Tommy’s kid, Jupiter, eighteen and a half, the pair raised practically as siblings, had been marathoning mostly-trashy horror movies all through the month of October in anticipation for the night itself, and Johnny Hudson’s Halloween party.

Jupiter had announced their intention to dress as Nancy from The Craft for the third year in a row, which ties it with the costume they’d chosen for the three years prior to that, which was Eric Draven, the main character from The Crow.

“Yes, it’s because I have a thing for Fairuza Balk in that movie,” Jupiter had announced defiantly when they’d made their intentions known at a dinner that Lola fortunately had time enough to attend, in between tours.

“That’s how I picked all my Halloween costumes at your age,” Lola had admitted with a shrug, though that just made Tommy frown as he goes to take a sip of his drink -

“Tim Curry as Frank N Furter -?”

“Lola did you go as Frank N Furter one Halloween?” Penny, delighted at the concept, leans forward over her pasta, eyes alight with mirth at the idea, looking so much like her mother that it almost stings. Lola herself has gone red, trying to suppress a smile.

“Tom, that’s not a discussion I want to have right now, but yes,” she says, slight warning in her voice, and Tommy chokes on his drink, both because he doesn’t quite know what she means by that, and because it’s rare for her to call him Tom, but then she’s looking up at Penny, smiling enough that it creases by her eyes, “and yes,” she deliberates, before adding, “I’m pretty sure that was the year your Auntie Eileen surprised everyone and dressed up as Uncle Mick, top hat and all,” Lola said, voice warm and fond at the memory, “he had no clue how to take it, shocked him enough that he actually came out on the town with us; I think it’ll always surprise him when people think he’d be a cool Halloween costume.” And she looks to Jupiter at that, while Jupiter themselves made direct and unwavering eye contact with their own pasta, while Penny nudged them, voice turning teasing, picking up on Lola’s cue, gently ribbing her cousin about the time they’d dressed up as Mick for Halloween, if only to spite the rest of their family.

The conversation moves on, and Tommy thinks fondly of the memory of how bright Charlotte’s smile had been after she’d come out of their bathroom, looking as thought she was covered in blood.

So this year, Tommy’s hit with a strange sense of deja vu in the lead up to Halloween, with Penny being cagey, and obviously in cahoots with his own child.

“Looking badass, as always,” Tommy grins, showing off his cheap, vampire fangs, as he leans in the doorway of his kid’s bedroom. Penny’s applying lip-gloss atop their black lipstick, but gives pauses as they both turn to him, scrutinizing his party-store vampire costume. With his own kids going away for the night, Tommy had been more than happy to host a Halloween party of his own for friends still in the business.

“I feel like you used to put more effort in,” Jupiter says slowly, looking from the too-small, satin cape, back to his face, and Tommy shrugs.

“I guess I could always put on one of my old eighties stage costumes,” he muses, playing like he’s seriously considering it, acting as though he couldn’t see Jupiter and Penny’s expressions both turn horrified, “I’ve still got them somewhere in the back of my closet -”

“Oh Jesus, dad,” Jupiter hisses, “you know we all know too much about how Lola felt about that weird fetish shit you guys would wear on stage, please don’t -”

“It’s not fetish shit, Jup,” but Tommy’s grinning at how embarrassed they both were, “it’s hair metal, it was hip!”

“It’s a red and black leather harness at best, and tights; I’ve seen more conservative outfits at a BDSM dungeon -”

“Dude!” Penny’s eyebrows shot up, and Tommy’s mouth dropped open. Penny, horrified, looked to her uncle; “it was one time-” she says, trying to make things better, but doing the exact opposite right as Jupiter tries to tell him it was a joke. Penny and Jupiter look to each other, both horrified at what the other had said, how it must look.

“Pen!”

“It was Johnny’s idea!” Penny blurted out, and looked to Tommy, as if realising she was digging herself deeper, “we went there as a joke!”

“That part is true,” Jupiter conceded, but Tommy kept his mouth shut, raising his hands in surrender, as if to say ‘that’s your business, as adults, but I’d rather not know’, and he’s quick to leave them to their mutual, horrified bickering.

He hadn’t even thought to ask what Penny was going as. All he knows is that she and Jupiter had been arguing because ‘it’s a trashy movie, Pen’ - ‘I love it, so shut up; you get witch powers from being an angry loner, I get them from being prom queen’ - ‘did we even watch the same movie? That’s not -” - “then just picture the original, you liked the original!’ - ‘oh, I’m past the movie itself, it’s the - they’re both angry loners, Pen,’ - ‘yeah, okay yeah, but it’s a cool aesthetic, Jup, come on -’. That was a few weeks ago, Tommy still isn’t quite sure what it could be, beyond witchy powers. Usually Penny’s costumes were straightforward, or she’d at the very least announce them in advanced...

Tommy finds himself blaming his own, erratic and mischievous child entirely; just as Lola had been known to be a bad influence on Charlie, so too could their children mirror this dynamic almost uncannily.

It only gets stranger when, an hour after doing Jupiter’s makeup, they both seem to be in full costume, and should be ready to go, they’re nowhere to be found, but they haven’t said goodbye.

Penny comes rushing past Tommy in a whirlwind, carrying something bulky in her arms, making a beeline for the downstairs guest bathroom.

“Pen, whaddya got there?” Tommy calls out, and Penny stops dead. She’s in a pretty, white dress, with her hair all done up, and a tiara sitting on top. It’s... familiar.

“Glue?” Penny’s obvious lie has Tommy frowning.

“Glue?” He asks, with a huff of disbelieving laughter. When she swivels towards him, he can see that she’s holding a large, white, pourable bottle, the label of which, Penny is conveniently covering.

“We’re sniffing it?”

“Penny, what the fuck?” Jupiter calls from the bathroom, and Penny takes off at a run, avoiding Tommy’s further questions, and Tommy himself, who, with a sudden nervousness at whatever the real situation was, follows quickly. All he can see is large, clear plastic sheets covering every single surface and every wall, like the lair of a murderer in a movie, and then Jupiter’s face with all it’s dark makeup and sprayed up hair, as they’re apologizing, and slamming the door in his face. He’s pretty sure he read the word blood on somewhere on the bottle that Penny had put down.

“Jupiter Carlotta Lee, I’ve told you before that we don’t fuck with real witchcraft!” Tommy jiggled the handle, but the door was firmly locked, “not after what happened with Nikki and Lita!”

“It’s not witchcraft!” Jupiter calls back, and Tommy can hear Penny groan about how he’s still going to kill them.

“Don’t murder your fuckin’ cousin in there, you hear me?” He jiggles the door handle again, harder this time, not quite sure of what was happening in there, but concerned nonetheless.

“Hey!” Penny shouts back, “why do you think I’m the one getting murdered in here?”

“I was addressing both of you,” Tommy sighed, leaning his forehead against the door, defeated, “what are you doing? What’s so bad that you have to keep me locked out?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re done -”

“Jupiter!”

“It’s messy,” Jupiter explained, and followed it up with a quiet, “okay, get in the bath, take off your shoes,” clearly not aimed at Tommy, before yelling back to him, “I’d rather do it, clean it up, and then beg for forgiveness in that order before you decide whether or not you want to murder us.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to stand up there?” Comes Penny’s soft question to her cousin, followed by a phrase burned into the back of Tommy’s mind, somehow still there after everything it’s been through.

“Let go of me, I don’t need you to steady me -”

And everything clicks into place, the blood, the outfit, the mess -

“Are you pouring fake blood on your cousin right now?!” Tommy’s tone is disbelieving, and he’s met with silence, and then the slow sound of liquid being poured.

“No?” Penny calls back, before spluttering a little, “it’s in my mouth.” She hisses.

“Then close your mouth!” Jupiter hisses back.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Pennylope; Jup?” Tommy squeezes his eyes shut as he remembers exactly how much scrubbing he and the rest of the occupants of the Motley House had to do over the next week, and even then the bathroom was never quite the same.

But he’s met with silence, and then he starts to hear what can only be the excess fake blood dripping into the tub. And then the sound of a much emptier bottle being put on the bench.

“No, I am not currently pouring fake blood on my cousin,” Jupiter announces; Tommy thinks he can feel a headache forming with each moment that passes. There are moments exactly like this one, in which he is reminded that Jupiter is without a doubt his and Lola’s kid, which is both a blessing and a curse.

“Penny, stay in the tub,” he calls, “make sure you wash your feet off once you’re dry; a hairdryer helps it dry faster.”

Despite their confusion at how he would know such a thing, the pair in the bathroom know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Tommy, for his part, breathes a sigh of relief; this, at least, he knew how to handle. At least they put more thought into it than Charlotte and Lola had back in the day.

Heading upstairs while they let the fake blood dry, he finds the photo Lola had dug up from her archives in her and Nikki’s garage.

Eileen, Charlotte, Lola, and Peach, all in a row outside the Starwood, all grinning from ear to ear. Eileen as Mick, Lola as Frank N Furter, Peach as Supergirl, and Charlotte, beaming, covered in blood red paint, as Carrie.

By the time he resurfaces from the wave of memories that had overwhelmed him, Tommy gets downstairs to see the guest bathroom door open.

“How messy is it?” He calls, concerned. Jupiter sticks their head out. The hairdryer is still going.

“Not as bad as I thought, should all just wash down the drain; the plastic on the walls was probably overkill,” they admit, and Tommy gives a thin-lipped grin, remembering the splatter that came up to knee height on the walls by the bathtub in the Motley House. Though, to be fair, Lola was simply pouring an entire bucket of thinned house-paint over Charlotte’s head - it was neither Lola nor Charlotte’s brightest idea, in hindsight - Jupiter, with a bottle of screen-grade fake blood from the looks of it, would have a much more controlled pour.

And Penny would definitely have a much easier time getting it off.

When Tommy sees Penny, it’s like looking into a window from the past, the way she’s beaming, pleased and bright and covered in blood, she looks so proud to be horrifying.

“What now?” Penny asks, fond but exasperated, and Tommy snaps out of his thoughts, “what exactly about this,” she gestures to her whole self, blood soaked and standing in the tub, being hairdryed by Jupiter, “reminds you of mom?”

“What do you mean?” Tommy asks, playing dumb, and Penny’s expression softens, but she still rolls her eyes, arms out while Jupiter dries her.

“You get a look in your eye when I do something that reminds you too much of mom, and yeah it’s sweet, but this specifically is a really weird thing to get emotional -”

“This is your mom on Halloween, nineteen-eighty-one,” Tommy holds out the photo so she wouldn’t have to touch it, incase the blood on her hands was still wet, interrupting his niece.

“Oh,” Penny’s voice is so quiet, “for real?” She asks, eyes wide and misty when she looks at Tommy, and he gives a fondly amused look, and nod in response. “I didn’t even know,” Penny gave a quiet, disbelieving laugh, her own gaze turning adoring as she takes in the photo once more.

Jupiter twists to look at the photo, still drying Penny, then looks in the mirror, then back at the photo, and scowls, but keeps quiet about how they’ve just realized, at least in terms of makeup and overall pallet, how similar their costume is to their mother’s. But they’re well aware that this isn’t their moment.

“Did Lola own pants?” Jupiter does mutter, more to themselves than expecting a response, and not getting one anyhow.

“Lola poured a bucket of red paint over her head in the apartment we shared, took five of us a full week to clean it all up after,” Tommy explained to Penny, smiling.

“No wonder you were worried about us doing the same thing,” Penny snorted, and leans in, looking at her mother’s smiling face; almost the same face she sees in the mirror, if not for the blue of her eyes.

“Yeah, but I should have known you two would be smarter about it, much as I love your mom, Jup, when we were young, she wasn’t exactly known for her common sense,” and as Tommy says it, even the quietly resentful Jupiter cracks a smile.

“She looked so cool,” Penny muses, “they all do; that’s Aunt Eileen and Peach, right? The other two?” And Tommy confirms as much, also making sure to note that all four women were always better at Halloween than the rest of the band; in a move that Tommy’s seen Charlotte do a thousand times, Penny rolls her eyes, smirks, and says ‘yeah, obviously’ all smug and amused.

Tommy just smiles, asks if he can take a photo once Penny’s all dry, reminds them to call Lola and Nikki if they need a lift home, and waves goodbye to them when their taxi arrives.

The minute the taxi is off the property, Tommy’s cracking open a beer, and dialing Lola’s number in the minutes before his own guests are due to arrive.

“Lols, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what just happened.”

#Tommy Lee #tommy lee imagine #tommy lee & oc #the dirt #the dirt imagine #motley crue #motley crue imagine #charlotte&lola #lola & charlotte #the angry lizard speaks

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hawkland · 3 years

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Dear Fandom5k Author

My AO3 account (sidewinder)

Hello and thank you for writing for me! I’m excited to give this exchange a try for the first time and cannot wait to read what you can come up with for one of my requests. Please note I’d love any of them equally, no matter if I have more prompt ideas for one or the other. Some I seriously would love just about anything about since they are so rare, others I have more specific requests to scratch itches I haven’t seen written before (or that much.)

General Likes:

Soumates with a twist. I love soulmate/soulbond AUs, as long as it’s just not a shortcut to happily-ever, no-conflict fluff. I want there to be some difficulties or angst involved. For instance, I’d love seeing any fusion/inspired-by fics based off the concept of the AMC Soumates series - where there’s a newly-developed scientific test a person can choose to take to find their soulmate (if the other person out there has also taken the test). That way it’s a choice to find out or not. Would an already established couple want to take the test to find out if they’re really “meant” to be together or not? What if they find out other people are their “soulmates”? What about the possibility of platonic soulmates vs romantic? Discussions for the future if/when one partner dies before the other? I’d love to see these questions played out with one of my fave ships in either a happy or somewhat angsty/dark way.

Vacation/travel stories. Being unable to travel this past year+ thanks to covid-19 has me desperate to explore and live vicariously through my favorite characters! So I’d love a story involving travel to somewhere new (to them). It could be a romantic getaway/honeymoon trip to somewhere special - and I love it when an author “takes me” to a favorite city/place of their own. Or two friends just going on an escapade together, maybe one sensing the other needs some time away from a stressful situation or workplace.

Smutty likes: I love extended kissing scenes, frottage, light restraint play, sharing-one-bed-for-~reasons~-ooops-how-did-we-wake-up-cuddling, bathing/caretaking an injured partner-turns-erotic, desperate/reunion sex.

Canon-divergent AUs - I’m always good with fix-its, shifts in canon that only change one thing and see what happens next or instead.

Do Not Wants:

A/B/O dynamics, mating heats. (I do like Supernatural fics that explore Castiel and the angels having bird-like behaviors and instincts, however.)

animal abuse/death

anything related to pregnancy/childbirth/kidfic (except for Jack in SPN)

formalized BDSM relationships

scat/watersports

unrequested alternative-universe scenarios such as high school/mundane/genderswap/coffee shop/fantasy/etc. There are a few ships/groups where I would enjoy specific AUs, and those are outlined below.

Completely sad endings/permanent character death or injury that isn’t part of canon

Rape/non-con between requested characters. Dubious consent is fine in situations like magic spells/possession/fuck-or-die, however.

Supernatural

AU - Canon Divergence, Character Development, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Fix-it fic, Interpersonal Drama, Smut, Angst, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural, Slice of Life, Worldbuilding, Horror

In general for SPN, I love canon-divergence AUs at pretty much any point in time (especially as they kept having so many dumb reasons in canon to keep Dean & Cas apart just when one or the other seriously needed support or TLC!) I’m okay with post-series Heaven fics as well as canon fix-its/completely ignoring the finale, and I like exploring both human!Cas as endgame or Cas keeping/getting his full angelic grace back (which is a slight preference to me, as he repeatedly seemed to genuinely value/want to be an angel? But exploring all possibilities in fic is cool for me.)

I’m a sucker for Castiel Whump/hurt!Cas in general, so long as the author remembers Cas is a bad ass and not just a baby in a trenchcoat. If he’s going to suffer, I want him to suffer stoically until he just cannot keep up the facade any longer.

SPN-specific DNWs: mentions/implications of Wincest, past or present; extreme bashing/characterization of John and Mary Winchester, or Jimmy Nowak, as homophobic.

Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Give me all the finale fix-it fics - no I’m still not over it, I’m still happy to read any new twist on how Cas got out of the Empty and got back together with Dean (and Sam). If Dean still dies early/ends up in Heaven, I’d like a story that explores what happens when one gets bored of peace-and-happiness-ever-after. (Yes, I’m a big fan of The Good Place and as such it makes me wonder if eternity with no conflict and everything you could ever want would just melt your brain and identity after a few millennia.) So what then?

I’m also stealing a Tumblr rant as a prompt I’d love to read, if you want to get into some good dirty smut:

ive had it up to here with fictional gays being like “i love you and if all i can ever have is that knowledge it’s enough for me” we need more “i have been struck down by horny insanity and i beg you to fuck me once. i’ve had three smirnoff ices and i’m gonna be crazy now. we can pretend it didn’t happen i don’t give a shit just gimme daddy’s blunt instrument” it’s more realistic [x]

Um so yeah. I’d love an au where, anywhere along the line when it’s been their/someone’s/the universe’s life on the life, Cas takes the initiative decides they’re gonna have crazy sex even if it’s just once before the end of the world/we die. But then, oops, we’ve survived, now we have to deal with it. ...Please?

For something different, maybe more romantic/fluffy, I’d really love a vacation/getaway story here, since they never really got anything like that of substance on the show. I want to see Cas take Dean somewhere beautiful and amazing in the world he’s never gotten to see before. Show him there’s more than just greasy diners and the landscape of America to enjoy and experience. If you want, they could stumble on a case/haunting/monster from another part of the world while they’re at it...but I just really want to see Dean having some mind-opening and expanding experiences beyond what’s he’s known and seen so far in life.

In specific with Cas/Dean + Sam, I love another tumblr idea I saw recently where Sam totally keeps bringing up the idea of “Sastiel” as a fun joke between him and Cas, and Cas plays along, and it drives Dean up the wall. Cas has to just keep re-assuring Dean that no, he doesn’t see Sam that way...but why does it bother Dean so much? A.k.a. Dean has to finally own up to the fact that it bothers him because he wants Cas to feel that way about him.

Castiel (Supernatural)

I just love Cas, period, end of story, he’s my One True Character of SPN. I love any stories that try to explore him more fully—be it his relationships in the past with other angels and being a BAMF commander/warrior of Heaven, or what specifically it is that keeps him so tied to the Winchesters. I love stories that feature his true-form in some fashion or try to dig into the alien/different nature of angels vs. humans.

Also, another Tumblr-musing-turned-prompt (I lost who posted it, sorry!) I'd love to see explored in a canon divergence fic focused on Cas. Specifically:

"I would have loved an arc for Cas (after he got his grace back) where he wanted to help people, like he was helped. Spending time in soup kitchens or healing people, and through that developing a sense of self purpose, leading to his grace replenishing unexpectedly. Sort of fulfilling the traditional angel role (as we know it nowadays) by replacing his faith in heaven/dean with faith in himself, to redefine himself as a protector of humanity instead of heaven's soldier."

Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester & Jimmy Novak Group: Castiel & Jimmy Novak

We know Cas carried a lot of guilt for what happened to Jimmy and his whole family. So I'm interested in a post-finale, canon-compliant (I guess?) fic where Cas tries to reconcile things with Jimmy in Heaven. Maybe Jimmy & Amelia were one of his first "projects" or test cases in trying to build a new and better Heaven with Jack? (And it's what he was so busy with while Dean was still alive.) Or, is it weird in Heaven with Cas and Jimmy looking so similar? Does Cas still fight doubts as to whether Dean really loves him, or just desires this body/form that isn’t his own?

Otherwise, I've been thinking about Endverse!Cas, who had lost his grace/powers as the angels have all left and abandoned humankind. What happened to/where is Jimmy in all of that? (If we go by the canon that Jimmy was not killed, nor went to Heaven, until the end of Season 5, when Lucifer blew up that vessel and Cas was resurrected by Chuck.) Are they now two "mortal men"/souls trapped sharing one body? Is that why Cas is so messed up/always seeking an escape through drugs and sex? (Besides of course Dean having changed so much.) This is one prompt where I don’t mind a very dark/not-so-happily-ever-after ending.

The Police

Angst, Character Development, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Humor, Interpersonal Drama, Smut

Group: Sting/Stewart Copeland

Yeah I’ll always request these two together even though I know it’s a long shot to find anyone else as obsessed about them as I am. Really anything at all whatsoever would make me happy for this ship: Reunion Tour-era fic, early punk days before they grew successful, soulmate AUs...

I’d also love a spooky story where they’re on tour/on the road somewhere and end up in a haunted hotel. Or their tour bus/van breaks down in the middle of nowhere and they have to seek shelter in an abandoned house or farm or something...and supernatural weirdness ends up affecting them or bringing them together.

If you want to go the crack route: it wasn’t enough for Miles to take them all around the world to tour in “exotic” locations back in the day. He’s arranged for them now to go on the ultimate tour...of outer space and alien worlds.

Crossover Fandom

Action/Adventure, Character Development, Interpersonal Drama, Angst, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural

Group: Abe Morgan (Forever TV) & John Munch (L&O: SVU)

I’ve had a long running headcanon that these two could have been friends back in their respective 60s/early 70s hippie days. I’d love either a story set back then, “pre-canon”, or them running into each other in NYC later in life. Munch ending up in Abe’s antique shop, for instance, while on an investigation?

Group: Dean Winchester (Supernatural) & Ezekiel Stone (Brimstone) Group: Castiel (Supernatural) & Ezekiel Stone (Brimstone)

I’m fascinated by the idea of crossing over these two canons. Even if there’s some conflict in their approach to Hell/Lucifer/demons, there’s still a lot in common. Dean & Ezekiel having both put in their time in Hell and being demon hunters, for instance, and their complicated relationships with (fallen) angels. I’d love to see them bonding over their experiences (Maybe they even meet in Hell? Time DOES work differently there…) Maybe somehow after Ezekiel completed his mission for the Devil, he did get his second chance at “life on Earth”…but the devil’s trick is that it’s not HIS Earth, it’s in a different dimension (Supernatural’s). I’m also curious how Ezekiel might respond to Castiel as an angel–perhaps he mistakes Cas for a demon at first, with his powers, but then they realize they are in fact hunting the same demon? Cas is stuck in an alternative dimension and recognizes Ezekiel as a similar soul to Dean’s, and seeks out his help?

Basically I’d love some kind of casefic/demon hunt here, with the characters bonding over their shared/similar past traumas, taking care of each other when/if injured on a hunt, and/or perhaps helping them sort out their complicated feelings for another (ie, background Cas/Dean and/or Zeke/the Devil are TOTALLY welcome here, as I ship both of those ships.)

Law & Order: SVU

Group: John Munch/Odafin "Fin" Tutuola

Character Development, Established Relationship, Humor, Getting Together, Interpersonal Drama, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural, Slice of Life, AU-Genre shift

Munch/Fin is one of my eternal OTPs so I’m always happy to see something new featuring them! I’m always good for procedural/case-fics. And this is one request where I’d love to read some AU-Genre or setting shift, reimagining the two in some other situations besides police work. I’ve always loved the idea of John hosting a conspiracy/weird news radio show or podcast, and Fin as someone completely skeptical but who gets wrapped up in one of John’s mysteries. Or John as the owner of a bar somewhere that Fin is one of his regulars, and over time their friendship develops/deepens into something more.

Supernatural RPF

Misha Collins/Jensen Ackles Established Relationship, Getting Together, Smut, Fluff, Slice of Life, Humor

It’s odd for me to be into an actor RPF fandom (I usually only fall for music/band-related ones), but what can I say...these two just make it almost impossible not to see the possibilities!

I was thinking I’d love something set post-Supernatural...their first time seeing each other again after a long time apart? (What with the show ending, covid, Misha’s surgery, etc etc.) Could be at a convention or maybe they get to go off on a getaway together somewhere private/romantic and it’s...kind of tense and maybe nervous/angsty at first? Like with doubts about whether they can/should go back to the way things were before.

Or: putting tin-hatty speculation about the “secret/real identity” of Alma Perpetua aside, I love their poetry and I’d love any “Cockles” fic using one of their poems as inspiration.

#fandom5k #dear author #exchange letter

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

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Hollow IV

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Kyrano, Jeff Tracy, John Tracy, Scott Tracy

Part 4 of my contribution @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday: Sixth Sense. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Somehow I’ve managed to find another new character to use. TAG!Kyrano is almost entirely unknown so we’ve got a mix of TOS!Kyrano and Kayo.

He had always been a light sleeper, and the frantic pounding of feet on the stairs followed by an equally panicked rapping on his bedroom door was more than enough to pull Kyrano from his sleep. Instantly alert in the dark room, he slipped from his bed and opened the door to reveal a dishevelled Jeff Tracy.

“What is it, Mr Tracy?” he asked, forgoing the usual customary greeting of his employer. The billionaire, despite an occasional bizarre dress sense, never let himself appear so outwardly distressed. Add in that the visit had occurred in the witching hour, and Kyrano had no doubt that something was very wrong indeed.

“Scott and John are missing,” Mr Tracy told him. “I’ve searched the entire villa; they must have gone out.” The boys had yet to realise that sound travelled very well in their new home – Kyrano may have been tending to his herb garden, but John’s denied request for a stargazing trip had not been particularly quiet. From the look in his employer’s eyes, Mr Tracy believed that the two boys had gone to do so regardless. Kyrano didn’t disagree.

“I will be ready in one minute,” he promised, retreating back into his room to shrug on outdoor clothes and boots over his nightwear. “Do you have everything?” Mr Tracy hesitated, and Kyrano turned to the backpack he kept stocked for his explorations of the terrain. “Fetch your gear, Mr Tracy. I will meet you by the pool.”

He didn’t need to look up to know that Mr Tracy had gone; even panicked and terrified for his sons, the man had a presence that was immediately notable when it left. The fact that his steps on the stairs weren’t at all quiet simply confirmed the fact.

Without Mr Tracy standing in front of him, looking to him to be the security, Kyrano let his mask fall for a moment, drawing in a deep breath to calm himself. The news that the two teenage boys – Scott considered himself a man, but nineteen was still too soon for Kyrano to consider him as such – were missing and presumably wandering around the island in the middle of the night made him afraid, too. He was fond of all of Mr Tracy’s boys. Perhaps they were not quite so close that they were like his own sons, but honorary nephews would not be inaccurate.

He was aware of Scott’s little forays away from the villa. The teenager might have plenty of experience sneaking out from under his father’s nose, and perhaps Kyrano should have informed Mr Tracy that his eldest son was disobeying him, but evading Kyrano was a skill Scott had yet to pick up. He’d trailed the boy several times, watching him learn the paths and tracks in the immediate vicinity of the villa. By this point, he was confident that Scott could handle himself as long as he remained close.

However, it was gone midnight and if they were going stargazing it was highly unlikely they’d want to ruin their night vision with something as basic as torches. Kyrano feared that Scott might have got overconfident, no matter how much he loved and tried to protect his brothers. It was with that fear – the fear that Scott had found himself lulled into a false sense of security in what was a very dangerous terrain for the unwary – riding in his heart that he joined the Tracy patriarch on the patio area outside the villa.

“Where would they have gone?” Mr Tracy asked. “The boys don’t know the paths here yet, and there’s only two of us. We can’t search them all!”

“On the contrary, Mr Tracy, Scott has been familiarising himself with the immediate vicinity,” Kyrano admitted, not facing his employer as the other man bristled. “In particular, he appears to favour two routes, and in the dark he will have taken one he believes he knows well, especially if one of his brothers is with him.”

“Scott is grounded for life when I find him,” Mr Tracy grumbled darkly. “I expressively told him it was too dangerous.”

“Young men often take that as a challenge,” Kyrano couldn’t help but observe, before hurriedly moving on to the task at hand before Mr Tracy addressed the fact that he’d known about the disobedient explorations. “Scott’s preferred routes are those two-” he gestured at them. “Which one would you like to take, Mr Tracy?”

“This one,” the other man said, heading over to the nearer of the two. Kyrano obediently moved to the other. “Keep in touch, Kyrano. If you find them, tell me immediately.”

“Yes, Mr Tracy.” There was no point lingering any longer; turning on his torch – night vision was only so useful, and the stars held no appeal to him tonight – he progressed down the path, hearing Mr Tracy do the same on the other path.

No doubt Mr Tracy had already done so, but as he walked, Kyrano tried first Scott’s phone, and then John’s. Neither boy answered, and when he switched to tracking their GPS signals he found both icons firmly in their bedrooms. Presumably, they hadn’t wanted to be tracked and had taken precautions to prevent their father discovering their little escapade. Clever, but infuriating from a security point of view, and Kyrano resolved to have a quiet word with the pair of them about that. What if they got into trouble? The island might be their home and otherwise uninhabited by humans, but it was also dangerous.

If he was attempting to track any of the other three, it would be much easier. The youngest two would be talking, and in the midnight air the sound would travel. Even Virgil could be drawn into a quiet conversation. John liked absolute silence when studying the sky, and despite his capability of being just as loud as his youngest brothers, Scott could and would respect that, simply sitting in silence alongside John for hours on end.

It never failed to amaze Kyrano when he saw the brothers together. With no full brother of his own, and a half brother he had never seen eye-to-eye with, their easy relationship with each other was breathtakingly precious. He was beyond grateful to Mr Tracy for providing that example to Tanusha and inviting her into the family as he had. She would never grow up with a bully son of a mistress wailing about unfair inheritance because he was older but not considered legitimate. Instead, she would grow up with five brothers to protect her and be protected by her in turn. It was the greatest gift Mr Tracy could ever had given him.

His thankful musings were cut off by a faint shout. He paused in his tracks, shining the torch light in the approximate direction of the noise. It couldn’t be Mr Tracy; it was the wrong direction for that. Only two other people were out and about, and he cautiously advanced to find the ground falling away suddenly – a recent fall of earth, receding the lip of the track just far enough for it to be in the direct path of feet, especially if they were walking two abreast.

Filled with a sense of dread, he approached the edge as much as he dared and shined the torch down over it, leaning over tentatively to catch sight of whatever was illuminated.

Some twenty feet below was the crumpled form of a boy. He wasn’t moving, and the torch highlighted a shock of flame-coloured hair.

John.

Where was Scott? He moved the torch, surveying the area around John, until he found another lip barely past him – more or less passing directly beneath his head. The figure the light found wasn’t crumpled up like John’s, but was equally unmoving. From his perch on top of the cliff, he couldn’t see what injuries they had sustained, but if they’d both fallen twenty feet, Kyrano found himself worried.

“Scott!” he called. “John!” At least one of them had to be conscious if they’d made a noise moments earlier.

“’rano?” It was quiet and filled with pain, but that was John’s voice. “-at oo?”

“I’m coming down to you now!” he confirmed. “Is Scott conscious?”

“-t sure,” John called back. “-t awkin.”

“Keep talking to him!” Kyrano instructed. “I’ll be with you shortly!” He pulled out his phone and called Mr Tracy.

“Kyr-”

“I’ve found them, Mr Tracy,” he said. “Follow the path I took.”

“Are they alright?” the other man demanded. Kyrano held in a sigh, but shook his head despite knowing his employer couldn’t see him.

“They appear to have fallen off the path,” he reported. “John is conscious and responding to me, but Scott is not. I will need assistance getting them back to the villa.”

“I’m on my way.”

Neither man bothered with pleasantries, hanging up without another word. It would take Mr Tracy several minutes to reach him, and Kyrano refused to wait. Retrieving some sturdy rope from his pack, he secured it to a tree before fashioning a harness to abseil down the unstable cliff. It wasn’t ideal, but it sufficed in an emergency, which this definitely qualified as.

A minute later, he was crouched next to John, torch highlighting clumps of dark red in his otherwise bright hair. Turquoise eyes were glazed and struggling to concentrate on him, but Kyrano was simply thankful the boy hadn’t hit his head harder, even if he seemed to have broken most of the bones in his body.

Another foot or so below them, it turned out that Scott was shifting slightly in a movement Kyrano could only describe as a muted writhing. Beyond concerned, he dropped down next to him, eyeing the pool of blood beneath him and the foliage protruding from somewhere around his hip with horror. “Scott?”

Despite the movement his eyes were closed and there was no answer. Kyrano reached for the first aid kit he carried, and prayed it would be enough.

“Please hurry, Mr Tracy.”

Part V

#sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #kyrano #jeff tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #hollow

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sworntoprotect · 4 years

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THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all had witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat. Long post!

MUN NAME: Pie AGE: +25 CONTACT: IM, Ask, Discord (mutuals only, by request)

CHARACTER(S): Cullen

CURRENT FANDOM(S): Dragon Age

FANDOM(S) YOU HAVE AN AU FOR: I have a modern verse for everything not Dragon Age, but I might add some actual alt verses for other fandoms

MY LANGUAGE(S): English (native), Spanish (intermediate), Korean (baby lol beginner), bits and bobs of other languages (namely French and French Patois)

THEMES I’M INTERESTED IN FOR RP: FANTASY / SCIENCE FICTION / HORROR / WESTERN / ROMANCE / THRILLER / MYSTERY / DYSTOPIA / ADVENTURE / MODERN / EROTIC / CRIME / MYTHOLOGY / CLASSIC / HISTORY / RENAISSANCE / MEDIEVAL / ANCIENT / WAR / FAMILY / POLITICS / RELIGION / SCHOOL / ADULTHOOD / CHILDHOOD / APOCALYPTIC / GODS / SPORT / MUSIC / SCIENCE / FIGHTS / ANGST / SMUT / DRAMA / ETC. (I started this and realised I’d be bolding almost everything, so: EVERYTHING)

PREFERRED THREAD LENGTH: ONE-LINER / 1 PARA / 2 PARA / 3+ PARA / NOVELLA. / ALL

ASKS CAN BE SEND BY: MUTUALS / NON-MUTUALS / PERSONALS / ANONS.

CAN ASKS BE CONTINUED?: YES / NO / OCCASIONALLY - only by Mutuals?: YES / NO

PREFERRED THREAD TYPE: CRACK / CASUAL / SERIOUS / DEEP AS HECK. / ALL

IS REALISM / RESEARCH IMPORTANT FOR YOU IN CERTAIN THEMES?: YES / NO.

ARE YOU ATM OPEN FOR NEW PLOTS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. (after my paper is submitted, yeah sure)

DO YOU HANDLE YOUR DRAFT / ASK - COUNT WELL?: YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. (irl makes coping difficult sometimes)

HOW LONG DO YOU USUALLY TAKE TO REPLY?: 24H / 1 WEEK / 2 WEEKS / 3+ WEEKS / MONTHS / YEARS. / DEPENDS ON MOOD AND INSPIRATION, AND IF I’M BUSY

I’M OKAY INTERACTING WITH: ORIGINAL CHARACTERS / A RELATIVE OF MY CHARACTER (AN OC) / DUPLICATES / CROSSOVERS / MULTI-MUSES / SELF-INSERTS / PEOPLE WITH NO AU VERSE FOR MY FANDOM / CANON-DIVERGENT PORTRAYALS / AU-VERSIONS.

DO YOU POST MORE IC OR OOC?: IC / OOC. (I strive for more IC over OOC, but my queue does a lot of work too)

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WITH FOLLOWING OTHERS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

BEST WAYS TO APPROACH YOU FOR RP/PLOTTING: Talk with me over IM, asks, or Disco. I’m down for almost anything as long as I see it’s feasible.

WHAT EXPECTATIONS DO YOU HOLD TOWARDS YOUR PLOTTING PARTNER: Transparency. If you have an idea, let me know! If you’re stuck, let me know! If you want to start something new or scrap something or whatever...LET ME KNOW! I promise I don’t bite and I understand.

WHEN YOU NOTICE THE PLOTTING IS RATHER ONE-SIDED, WHAT DO YOU DO?: I’m not very good with coming up with plots myself, so I’m typically the weak link when it comes to that. Sorry! But you bet I’ll pull up a plot generator and start throwing things down to see what sticks haha.

HOW DO YOU USUALLY PLOT WITH OTHERS, DO YOU GIVE INPUT OR LEAVE MOST WORK TOWARDS YOUR PARTNER?: I’m all about equal opportunity, so I try not to leave the plotting work to my partner. Let’s negotiate and find something that makes both of us happy. That’s the point after all.

WHEN A PARTNER DROPS THE THREAD, DO YOU WISH TO KNOW?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. - AND WHY?: If you want to drop a thread, I’m completely fine with it. I want to know so that I don’t end up replying to something you have no interest in anymore. Saves both of us the time.

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY LEAD YOU TO DROP A THREAD?: If drafts eat it (as they are wont to do these days) or if I feel it has reached a natural conclusion. I rarely, if ever, drop a thread in the middle. I’ll just let you know I’m going to finish it on my side and allow you a chance to finish on yours if you’d like.

WILL YOU TELL YOUR PARTNER?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

IS COMMUNICATION IN THE RPC IMPORTANT TO YOU? YES / NO. - AND WHY?: You don’t need to chat with me every minute of every day, but I like knowing the people I’m writing with. Discerning your personality and your approach to your muse gives me a much stronger understanding of how to write with you, and what vibes between us. Plus, it’s easier to remember different people’s boundaries if I talk with them a lot, too.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH ABSOLUTE HONESTY, EVEN IF IT MAY MEANS HEARING SOMETHING NEGATIVE ABOUT YOU AND/OR PORTRAYAL?: I am all for constructive criticism. Even if you think it’s nitpicky, it’s going to be a great help. Good crit allows us grow as writers and as people in general. However, I am not for baseless accusations, childish name-calling, or outright insults under the name of “constructive crit”. Remember the “constructive” part: we need to build each other up.

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE SUCH SITUATION IN A MATURE WAY? YES / NO.

WHY DO YOU RP AGAIN, IS THERE A GOAL?: I love a good story. While I don’t agree with everything Cullen does (and no one should, for anyone real or imagined), his story is intriguing. He’s a deeply flawed, deeply broken man. I love to take on a character, toss them in every situation I can think of, and watch them evolve and grow.

WISHLIST, BE IT PLOTS OR SCENARIOS: A real redemption arc, for one. A realistic struggle with substance abuse and recovery. A future of happiness.

THEMES I WON’T EVER RP / EXPLORE: Rape or sexual assault, unless being spoken about as a past event (as I truly believe that Cullen was sexually assaulted at Kinloch along with the other psychological and physical torture he endured). In-game racism is baked in, unfortunately, but it’s not something I seek out to roleplay as a PoC myself. Finally, while I play Cullen as canon-straight, I will not play out homophobia and most definitely not transphobia. If he rejects your muse for hitting on him, it’s not because he’s being homophobic: he’s just not interested. That also doesn’t mean he’ll never be interested; people can and do change, and I ship chemistry overall. He doesn’t hate your muse for their gender, orientation, or sexual preferences. I feel like I really have to spell this out for people who don’t understand. If you feel personally insulted by this somehow, feel free to address me directly, off anon. It’s probably an issue of fuzzy wording that I’m 500% willing to fix and talk about.

WHAT TYPE OF STARTERS DO YOU PREFER / DISLIKE, CAN’T WORK WITH?: I love starters that set the scene and provide plenty to work with, be it in terms of interacting with the environment or with the other person. If your muse shows immediate disinterest in communicating (and I don’t mean argumentative, which is perfectly fine), I am not going to respond. I might politely ask for more if I feel like it’s a salvageable interaction.

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE MOST?: Stoic soldier types, bubbly short girls, and semi-mad scientists.

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE LEAST?: Characters that come across as Mary-Sue / Gary-Stu types. No flaws and barely any room to grow.

WHAT ARE YOUR STRONG ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: I'm very easy-going and I have an unearthly level of tolerance for almost everything. I try to provide partners with as much to work with as possible IC, and will pretty much support your very existence OOC. I believe in open communication so you’ll know what’s going on with me and/or our threads. Also, I typically reply within a week or two. Currently I’m tethered to finishing a big paper so I’m not a good example of that right now.

WHAT ARE YOUR WEAK ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: I can get overwhelmed by too much which slows my pace down considerably. I’m also a bit distant and do shut down on occasion; that’s usually no fault of my partners, though. Just my brain being a dick.

DO YOU RP SMUT?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. (the closer we are OOC, the easier getting here will be)

DO YOU PREFER TO GO INTO DETAIL?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. (it’s not going to be XXX but it will be descriptive)

ARE YOU OKAY WITH BLACK CURTAIN, FADE TO BLACK?: YES / NO.

WHEN DO YOU RP SMUT? MORE OUT OF FUN OR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?: I prefer to write smut for character development and to mark a progression in a relationship. Plus Cullen is not a “one and done” guy so getting to the smut stage will take a bit of build-up.

ANYTHING YOU WOULD NOT WANT TO RP THERE?: Hmmm things that he personally wouldn’t go for I guess? Honestly I don’t know. And obviously, no rape/animal abuse/predator nonsense.

ARE SHIPS IMPORTANT TO YOU?: YES / NO Ships are a great way to further explore a character and their motivations. People do not exist in pure isolation, so I don’t believe characters should, either.

WOULD YOU SAY YOUR BLOG IS SHIP-FOCUSED?: YES / NO. I bolded both because the focus of the blog isn’t ships, but this thirst trap guy is really easy to ship with other people I tell ya hwat. I am severely picky with romantic ships for Reasons, but I don’t eschew any other types of ships. I encourage them!

DO YOU USE READ MORE?: YES / NO / SOMETIMES WHEN I WRITE LONG STUFF.

ARE YOU: MULTI-SHIP / SINGLE-SHIP / DUAL-SHIP — MULTIVERSE / SINGLEVERSE.

WHAT DO YOU LOVE TO EXPLORE THE MOST IN YOUR SHIPS?: Characters who challenge Cullen into revising his point of view and force him to be a better person. Also, characters who understand his past and they are in no ways obligated to forgive it, but do recognise that he’s struggling very hard to mend whatever mistakes he can and is willing to pay the price for his decisions.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. - Be a good salesperson and I might buy it.

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- WHAT COULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOUR MUSE INTERESTING TOWARDS OTHERS, WHY SHOULD THEY RP WITH THIS PARTICULAR CHARACTER OF YOURS NOW, WHAT POSSIBLE PLOTS DO THEY OFFER?: Cullen is a massive stick in the mud, which means it’s incredibly easy to taunt him and get him flustered all at the same time. He’s loyal, he’s intelligent, and he’s largely self-aware. He likes swords and using them. Anything your character hates about him, he most likely hates about himself 100 times more.

WITH WHAT TYPE OF MUSES DO YOU USUALLY STRUGGLE TO RP WITH?: Those from the start that show absolutely no interest in speaking with/interacting with him. Mun and muse are going to struggle to stick around. I’m not going to fight for attention and neither is he.

WHAT DO THEY DESIRE, WHAT IS THEIR GOAL?: Redemption. He wants to be a better person and make up for the past as much as he can.

WHAT CATCHES THEIR INTEREST FIRST WHEN MEETING SOMEONE NEW?: He can sniff out a fellow Templar a mile away (or several miles, in the case of Samson).

WHAT DO THEY VALUE IN A PERSON?: Honesty, a strong will, devotion (not necessarily to the Maker or the Chantry, but to a just cause that focuses on protecting others).

WHAT THEMES DO THEY LIKE TALKING ABOUT?: War stuff, chess, books, trebuchets, dogs.

WHICH THEMES BORE THEM?: Lectures about anything. He did his time in Azkaban in the Circles. No more. Please no more.

DID THEY EVER WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TRAUMATIC?: His parents died trying to escape the Blight, he was tortured for weeks/months on end by blood mages, almost all of his friends died because of it, he was manipulated and brainwashed by his superior, he was forced into a near-debilitating substance addiction by his workplace... yeah just a few things.

WHAT COULD LEAD TO AN INSTANT KILL?: Darkspawn and abominations.

IS THERE SOMEONE /-THING THEY HATE?: Darkspawn and abominations. Blood mages on principle. Regular mages (but he’s working hard to remedy this extremely bad and prejudiced thinking). Himself.

IS YOUR MUSE EASY TO APPROACH?: YES / NO. - BEST WAY TO APPROACH THEM?: Just be polite and he won’t turn you away. He’s guarded, yes, but not impossible to talk to.

SOMETHING YOU MAY STILL WANT TO POINT OUT ABOUT YOUR MUSE?: You’ll find out by writing together! ;D

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

tagged by: pirated tagging: anyone who actually read this

#a quiet inquiry (memes)#// long post #// very long post

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cartoonus-maximus · 5 years

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50 "Quick Tricks" drabbles (aka, my crackship of Tommy “Speed” Shepherd with Loki Odinson/Laufeyson)

Ideas were taken from the sentence prompts of this post -> [link]

Fandom: Marvel comics

Genre: romance, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Disclaimer: Loki is not a villain (or not completely, anyway) in any of these stories, since I liked his characterization from “Young Avengers” and “Agent of Asgard” so much.

Tommy remains pretty much the same in each story (I couldn’t picture very many versions of him), but Loki does have six different forms; each of Loki’s faces comes with slightly different behaviors and mannerisms, which was fun to play with.

Loki's forms:

1. hipster (the body Billy made for him) 2. god of stories (first version) 3. goddess of stories 4. god of stories (modern) 5. lady loki 6. jotun (a la "What if Thor were raised by frost giants?")

1. “I’ll protect you.” [6/1/2019, based during "the War of Realms"]

The words were spoken in low tones, almost too quiet, and Tommy was amazed that he'd heard them at all, surrounded as they were by screaming civilians and the booming foosteps of the Frost Giants and the wild laughter that rose from the Angels of Hevn and Demons of Muspelheim and Dark Elves of Svartalfheim; the din of war filled his ears, but he still heard Loki's whisper loud and clear.

He turned to Loki, the traitorous god looking older, so much older than he had ever looked before, and the god just looked back at him, his comforting smile betrayed by the look of fear in his eyes.

"I swear, Thomas, I will do whatever I can to end this War of Realms, and you and I and everyone you love will make it through," the god of lies promises, his voice sad and distant, and Tommy has no doubt that he means every word of it.

2. “You always duck away when you smile.” [6/1/2019, based during "Young Avengers"]

Loki didn't answer the unspoken question that came with Speed's comment, preferring instead to glare out the window of Noh-Varr's ship.

He couldn't very well explain why he didn't want anyone to see his smile, his genuine smile - after all, they were only supposed to see him as a villain, supposed to hate him at the end of all this, and how could that happen if they saw him smile, and saw him behave in ways they sympathized with and understood?

"You have a very handsome smile," came Speed's voice, conflicting with the way Loki saw his own reflection twist into a leer, mouthing the words back at him mockingly: 'Demons don't smile.'

3. “Like I expected, you’re much comfier than my pillow.” [6/1/2019, featuring Loki as the Goddess of Stories]

Tommy had been surprised when the goddess -- a thin, little scrap of a girl with nothing but power and ancient knowledge and understanding of the world rolling off of her -- had suddenly leaned against his shoulder from behind, nuzzling happily against him like a sleepy kitten, fairly cuddling him.

He let out a snort of laughter at her statement, moving to brush Loki off, but then she snuggled closer, her cold chain mail shirt pressing against his back while her equally cold lips found a place against his neck.

She was hard and cold and terrifyingly powerful, with raw energy rolling off her tongue with every word, and if she wanted someone to cuddle with, well... Tommy figured she wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, or that was the excuse he told himself when he turned to pull her closer.

4. “I’m nervous too.” [6/1/2019, based during "Young Avengers"]

Loki was trying to be compassanate in this moment, he really was, but obviously he had failed in some way, his heart sinking when Speed spun around to glare at him, his face angry enough to make the god take a step back.

"That's easy for you to say," Tommy growled. "If this mission goes sideways, you'll only lose your ticket back to your goddamn palace in Asgard - I'll lose my brother!"

The trickster god opened and close his mouth a few times, looking for the right words to say and, for the first time in his very long life, coming up empty; he wanted to say something, anything to get Speed back on his side, but, if the look on the mutant's face was any indication, it didn't look like mere words would do the trick this time around.

5. “Do you like it?” [6/1/2019, featuring Lady Loki]

Tommy looked up at the question, momentarily abandoning his sandwich as he turned to look, and then completely dropping it when his eyes landed on Loki, her soft, supple body on display, wrapped only in the lingerie that was her latest shopping spree aquisition; aside from the so-very-extremely sexy garments, the only other thing Loki wore was her customary helmet, the gold horns arcing gracefully over her head and somehow directing Tommy's gaze back downward.

Tommy felt that his jaw had gone slack, and he closed his mouth on reflex, his eyes still roaming over the beautiful body in front of him.

“... I love it," he finally managed, his throat dry, and was rewarded for his efforts to speak by Loki's tittering and her soft kiss to his forehead, her body angled in a way that made parts of his body come alive in ways he didn't really want to deal with right now.

6. “Let me hug you.” [6/1/2019, featuring Lady Loki]

The phrase wasn't one that would normally come out of Tommy's mouth, and certainly not a phrase that was ever directly at Loki, and yet that was exactly where those words had come from and how they were being used.

Then again, it wasn't often that people caught Loki in a moment where she was broken and vulnerable, her body wracked by sobs of despair, her heart full of grief over her own actions and hatred for herself, the fear and pain and disgust and utter loathing filling her head to the point she thought it would explode, all of her lies and pretty curls of hair and golden horns erupting in one glorious, destructive end of a story.

But, Tommy had seen her, and wasn't judging her or mocking her, but was instead looking at her with earnesty and concern that didn't belong on his face, and should never have been directed at a beast such as Loki the Villain God, but there it was, and, when his arms came to rest in a warm, comforting circle around her, it made her cry anew.

7. “Piggy back ride?” [6/1/2019, based during the current main universe time frame]

Tommy scoffed, sneering when he turned to see Loki's arms outstretched, the god mimicking the act of a child waiting to be picked up, the quirk of his lips indicating that it was a joke, probably in reference to the way Tommy occasionally carried his brother into battle.

"You're too tall for me to carry, you stupid giant," he answered, reaching over and giving the trickster a hard shove, making the god laugh and stumble to the side; Loki's hand grasped at Tommy's, closing around his wrist and pulling the mutant down after him, the pair landing on top of each other on the ground.

"... No one's ever called me tall before - I'm considered short in Asgard, and a runt among my own species," Loki mused aloud, the fingers of his hand tracing along Tommy's face before pulling him in for a kiss that Tommy had no qualms about reciprocating.

8. “I want to kiss all of the freckles on your cute face.” [based during the current main timeline]

Tommy rolled his eyes; he loved Loki, he really did, but sometimes the god tried too hard to be romantic --or whatever that garbage was meant to be-- and he just came off as weird.

"I don't have freckles and I'm not cute, now stop using stupid lines that you read online on me!" the mutant glared at his godly lover, reaching over and tearing Loki's smart phone out of his hands.

Loki only laughed and pulled Tommy flush against himself, pressing kisses across his face, whispering in his ear "The sentiment remains the same, dear one, now hold still."

9. “Can you keep holding my hand, please?” [6/1/2019, featuring Loki, Goddess of Stories]

The words were out of her mouth before she'd even realized she was thinking them, and Loki looked away in shame; she was Loki, Goddess of Stories, the Maker and Breaker of Words and Worlds and Knower of All That Ever Was And Ever Would Be, and the simple touch of a young mutant human shouldn't be something that quiets her fears and calms her concerns.

If Odin or Freyja were here, they would judge her, and call her out on her childish need for someone to support her, to push her to do the right thing and still be there when she inevitably failed.

But her parents weren't here, and Tommy was, and Tommy seemed to have no problems with taking her hand in his once more, his fingers squeezing hers and letting her know that he wasn't going to let go of her, and that knowledge alone was all it took to bring a smile back to her face.

10. “Wait, the tears are good tears?” [6/1/2019, based shortly after "the War of the Realms"]

It had been a week since Loki had come back from the dead, like the god he was, and Tommy had found he couldn't keep the tears in, having not cried since he was in his early teens, and having gone through so many emotions in such a short span - horror, grief, hope, despair, utter sadness... only to come out the other end with shock and nothing else but sheer, utter joy.

Unable to hold them in any more, the mutant man had simply burst into tears, sobs wracking his body as Loki ran to him, clutching him and holding him and trying oh so badly to comfort him, the trickster god being beyond confused and concerned when Tommy smiled up at him through his tears.

"I saw you die, saw it on the news... but you're back, you're really here..." A smile began to quirk at the ends of Loki's lips, and he clasped Tommy to himself as the human finished speaking. "You came back from the dead, and you came back to me."

11. “I think you look cuter with me.” [6/1/2019, featuring Loki the God of Stories as he looks in "Agent of Asgard"]

Loki grinned when he saw Tommy's eyes quirk at the statement, looking both perplexed and put out in the way that only Tommy could look, as if to ask 'what's that supposed to mean?'

"Because," the God of Stories continued, gesturing to his tired eyes and sharp nose and crooked smile and missing teeth, his hand too thin and too pale, with long, black, scraggly fingernails that he so enjoyed chewing on when he was frustrated (and he often was), his gestures inviting Tommy to take in the image of the broken little runt of Jotunheim. "So long as you're standing next to this face, your looks are bound to improve!"

Tommy made a face that may have been mistaken for a grin, and suddenly moved to stand beside Loki, parting his lips in an invitation for a kiss before whispering "I'll think you'll have to be the cute one from now on. I'm too busy being the ruggedly handsome one, obviously!"

12. “I won’t forget this moment.” [6/1/2019, featuring Jotun Loki]

The Jotun's words were strangely sincere, Tommy thought, and they came across as too thoughtful and genuine for someone from a species of mighty warriors; but, then again, it seemed that the small Jotun known as Loki wasn't an average Frost Giant, and the way he smiled at Tommy sure was endearing.

After a second, Tommy returned the smile, pleased for some reason when the blue man's eyes lit up.

"Let's just get back to stargazing, yeah? You can show me where your planet is," Tommy answered, relieved when his new friend took the bait and began eagerly pointing to and naming stars and planets, but doing nothing to distract Tommy from the way his stomach was flipping around.

13. “This is where we first met isn’t it?” [6/1/2019, based in the current main timeline]

Loki waved his hand, gesturing in the direction of where he and Tommy had first encountered each other, each one doing their part in that day's battle.

Tommy sighed half-heartedly, giving Loki a look that was full of both fondness and annoyance. "Does it count as meeting if we were on opposite sides and fighting each other, Mr. Once-a-Villain-and-Sometimes-Still-a-Villain?"

"Absolutely." Loki laughed and threw his arm around Tommy's shoulders, pulling the speedster to his side and kissing the top of his head. "First impressions are important, and your presence on the battlefield simply stole my breath away, dear heart."

"That's because I punched you in the trachea, Lo."

14. “I’ve always wanted to thank you, but was never sure how.” [6/2/2019, featuring Loki, Goddess of Stories]

Tommy opened and closed his mouth, at a complete loss for words; he'd been letting Loki lie low in his apartment for awhile, sure, but he hadn't expected to come home to find Loki in female form, lying sprawled out across Tommy's bed with seemingly nothing over her body but the sheet and her horned helmet.

She looked up at him, biting her lower lip in a way that showed her crooked teeth and her missing tooth but somehow still looked incredibly sexy, and when she spoke it was with a voice full of lust and desire. "... but I was hoping this would suffice, if you were willing?"

Tommy was certain that he'd never made a decision faster in his life; anyone who looked into the bedroom later would have seen a man and a woman lying naked together, asleep and content in one another's arms, with not a single regret or care in the world for possibly the first time in either of their lives.

15. “If you’re happy then okay.” [6/2/2019, featuring Loki, Goddess of Stories]

"Are you sure?" Loki asked, wanting to clarify with the man she had come to love that he was really alright with his partner's gender changing from time to time. "I was a man when we started dating, and I could always change back if that would please you--"

"Lo," Tommy's voice came in a warning hiss, and he grabbed her by a horn on her helmet and pulled her closer to his face, tilting her head back and forcing her to look him in the eye. "You already know I don't care about what gender my partner is, so why the insecurity?" He kissed her then, on her temple. "Besides, you know I love you, right? I just want you to be happy and comfortable."

Loki beamed up at him, reaching up to remove his hand from her helmet and raising her lips to meet his. "Thank you. I love you, too."

16. “Let’s share.” [6/2/2019, based during "Young Avengers"]

Tommy balked at the sentence, and then again when Loki was shoving a milkshake in his face, only one straw sticking out of the frozen treat. "... No."

"Why not?" Since they'd begun dating a week ago, Loki had become a monster, always stealing or demanding direct kisses and trying to weasel indirect kisses, like some weird, attractive leech of smooching. "It's mint/chocolate/vanilla swirl, you're favorite~!"

With a sigh, Tommy gave in, wondering how and why he'd fallen for this dorky, irritating, hipster god of mischief?

17. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.” [6/2/2019, featuring Jotun Loki]

Loki turned around at hearing those words, his feet stopping just at the edge of the Bifrost; Thor had discovered how to open the Bifrost and was summoning Loki back to Jotunheim (and what for exactly terrified him), and when his brother the king called, Loki felt compelled to answer, even if that meant leaving the man of Midgard he had become so fond of.

Hesitantly, he turned back to look at Tommy, the speedster now standing behind him with a sad smile that didn't belong on his face, and was surprised when Tommy suddenly put a hand to his neck, pulling him down far enough for the human to kiss him.

"I understand why you have to go and all, but..." Tommy whispered, pulling away enough that Loki could raise a hand to his lips in surprise, already missing the human's warmth. "... Just know I'll still be here if you ever come back."

18. “Everything ends up being about you somehow.” [6/2/2019, featuring Lady Loki]

The goddess beside him turned to give Tommy an innocent look, as though she were also susprised at being such a publically hated figure, someone who was impossible to go anywhere with because, due to the things she/he had done in the past, she was banned from most places and blatantly ridiculed in others... and everywhere they went, it seemed that someone would always interrupt them, trying to 'save' Tommy from her, acting like she'd put him under a spell of some kind.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about, Thomas," she insisted demurely, pouting at him in a manner that was too cute for a Loki, ignoring the way the restaurant owner was glaring at them as they were ushered out the door. "But it's not like you didn't know who and what I was before you agreed to go out with me."

Tommy sighed defeatedly, but then Loki took his hand in hers and smiled at him apologetically, and gods but he couldn't look at that face without forgiving her entirely. "Maybe we should just go back to my place and order takeout."

"That sounds lovely."

19. “It tastes like…. You tried…. I’ll eat it. It’s a good attempt. Really.” [6/2/2019, based during "Young Avengers"/”Agent of Asgard”]

Tommy's disappointed scowl did not go unnoticed by Loki, but the hipster god chose to ignore it for the moment, prefering instead to fill his mouth with the frozen treat his teammate had attempted to make.

"I shouldn't be allowed to make food," the mutant muttered, putting his head on the table and covering it with his hands, clearly frustrated by his failed attempt.

Loki smiled weakly and took another mouthful of the too-cold, much-too-salted confectionary, admitting "You shouldn't feel too bad, Thomas, I am a god after all - you could probably feed me rat poison and I'd still be capable of eating it," which only served to make Tommy groan in utter defeat.

20. “Why are you hiding against me like this?” [6/2/2019, featuring Jotun Loki]

A lot of the Jotun's actions confused Tommy, but very few things puzzled him as much as this new habit that Loki had developed, the giant hunching his tall frame over and pressing into Tommy's side any time there was a storm outside, all timid and trembling, like a child trying to hide.

Tommy coaxed Loki away from his side, carefully running his warm hands over the Frost Giant's cold face, soothing away the creases of fear that came with a clap of thunder. "What's wrong, Lo?"

"The thunder... the storm..." Loki shuddered, another clap from the sky causing him to yelp and press himself against Tommy, the mutant wrapping around him and comforting him. "My brother is near."

21. “I heard you weren’t having that great of a day… These are your favorite candles, right?” [6/2/2019, featuring Loki as God of Stories from "Agent of Asgard"]

Loki cracked open an eye from where he was sitting in his meditation circle, finding himself facing Speed, the mutant boy carrying an armload of candles from Bath and Body works - six in total, enough to recreate his magic circle with, and each candle labeled with the name of Loki's favorite scent.

Loki was surprised by the gesture, to say the least, but slowly smiled, his chapped lips peeling back to expose the gap where a tooth should have been (freshly knocked out, thanks to a certain thunderous brother), and, with a gesture, levitated the candles out of Tommy's arms, setting them in the circle around him and lighting them all with his own green sparks of magic. "Thank you, Thomas, that was most kind of you. This scent... reminds me of home."

His smile stayed this time, and when Speed asked if he could join him in the circle for a time, the newly reborn God of Stories only nodded, happy to have the company.

* just want to put here that I misread the original prompt for #21 as ‘candles’ with an ‘L,’ when it’s actually ‘candies’ with an ‘I.’

22. “Ah, the puppy dog face. Check mate, huh?” [6/2/2019, featuring Lady Loki]

Tommy rolled his eyes at Teddy's statement, scoffing in disdain at the question; Loki was attractive and good at making that sort of face, but that certainly wasn't the only reason Tommy went along with her whims.

He turned to look at the goddess and she gave him that look again - the look that made his knees weak and ensured that he would do anything she asked of him.

... Yeah, it was check mate, alright.

23. “Quit poking my sides; you know I’m ticklish!” [6/4/2019, based in current main timeline]

Loki chuckled to himself as Tommy moved away a little bit, just out of range of the trickster god's reaching finger, his mutant lover casting him a half-hearted glare with something akin to a pout.

It was adorable, and Loki wanted more than anything to pull that pouting lower lip into his mouth, to tease and lick and suck until he had reduced Tommy to a moaning, whining mess beneath him.

"Of course, dear heart," he teased, stepping closer to ruffle Tommy's white hair, earning himself another glare as he continued. "That's why it's so much fun!"

24. “Your hair is sticking out everywhere. Cute.” [6/4/2019, featuring Lady Loki]

Loki sneered in response to the comment, running her hand tiredly through her bedhead, black strands of hair pointing in every direction, beads and gold decorations clinking against each other as she shifted through the messy braids.

"... shut up."

Tommy grinned, setting down his morning coffee in favor of pulling her closer to steal a quick kiss. "I love it. You should keep it exactly like this forever."

"Hmm..." His goddess lover wrinkled her nose, kissing him on the lips before moving to kiss his cheek, then moving down to nuzzle comfortably into his neck. "Only if you never wear clothes again."

25. “Wait, let me get a picture of you there.” [6/4/2019, based in the current main timeline]

Startled by Tommy's order, Loki pulled his head back, ponytail whipping through the air behind him as he turned to stare at his mutant lover, surprised to find Tommy was holding up Loki's own Stark phone.

Tommy smiled as he snapped the picture. "You needed a new avatar for your Twitter, right? Congratulations, now you have a brand spanking new, startled avatar."

Despite himself, Loki laughed, and soon the pair had devolved into just taking silly pictures of themselves and each other.

26. “If you need my shoulder, or my hand, or a hug-” [6/4/2019, featuring Loki as the God of Stories from "Agent of Asgard"]

Tommy winced at how awkward he sounded, even to himself, and finally fell silent and looked away, reaching up uncomfortably to play with his hair, uncertain of what to do with himself now that he'd sounded like an idiot.

Loki was meditating --as he often did after a particularly rough day of running errands for his mother-- but he cracked open one eye when Tommy fell silent, cooly regarding the mutant who had come to check up on him.

"You're welcome to come sit beside me, Thomas," the newly reborn God of Stories finally said, patting the empty space to his right, and, almost mechanically, Tommy moved to sit beside him, wanting to be there for the man he'd come to admire so much but not truly knowing how.

27. “Kiss me again.” [6/4/2019, featuring Lady Loki]

Loki shifted into his female form while speaking the sentence, his thin lips giving way to her plump, sexy ones, her eyes hidden beneath long lashes that curled in a way that was reminiscent of the horns on her helmet - the helmet was the only thing that didn't change in some manner with the shift, and Tommy wondered why that was.

Tommy grinned, the mortal having no qualms about kissing either (or any) of Loki's forms, and pressed a second kiss to the god's waiting mouth. "Heh, don't have to tell me twice."

Her hands were in his hair, and her soft, cool body was flush against his, and he just knew that neither of them were going to get any sleep tonight at this rate.

28. “I’m sorry, but it was too funny for me to intervene.” [6/4/2019, featuring Jotun Loki]

Loki tried to hide his laughter behind his hand, but to no avail - Tommy's mother, Wanda, had been talking her son and babying the young adult in ways that she clearly intended to be embarrassing, if that wink she'd flashed to Loki was any indication, and Tommy had done nothing but complain.

The human glared up at him, and the Jotun floundered a bit, trying to force his mouth into a straight line.

"Shut up, Elsa," Tommy managed, and Loki chuckled and patted the human on the head in response.

29. “It doesn’t matter what they think, I just care about what you think.” [6/4/2019, featuring Lady Loki]

Tommy swallowed and sunk deeper into the arm chair, tired from trying to explain Loki's genderfluidity to his friends, and he snapped his head up, taken aback by the god's comment. "... What?"

"I said," Loki leaned down over him, the lavishly beaded braids in her hair clinking more than her chain mail shirt did when she moved, and she pressed a strangely soft (for her) kiss to his forehead. "Yours is the only opinion I'm interested in."

"Oh--!" Tommy stuttered, staring up at the powerful creature that stood before him, wondering what he had done to get her attention. "Um, my opinion is that you're hot?"

"Hmm... I suppose that answer is satisfactory."

30. “You can ask me as much as you want, I’ll say I love you each time.” [6/4/2019, based in the current main timeline]

Loki heard Tommy's words echo over and over in his mind, the god's frame sagging tiredly with each echo; Tommy loved him, and the God of Lies and Stories knew it to be the absolute truth, when really the mutant ought to have hated him just as much as everyone else did.

Loki was the monster, the villain, and that wasn't something to be changed over time, as that was the role he'd been given in the story he'd been placed in, the Elder Gods having written the story too long ago for there to be any revision to it, and too recent for the story to be rewritten.

The trickster god sighed and settled deeper into his bar stool, emptying another glass of beer as he listened to the words that doomed him repeating over and over in his head.

31. “I’m glad you were here with me.” [6/4/2019, based during "Young Avengers"]

The words were out of Tommy's mouth before his realized, his mouth moving faster than his brain, and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Loki flinch, the newly recreated god turning to stare at him.

"... Why?"

Tommy shrugged, looking away and carefully training his eyes on the ground, not wanting to admit his crush even to himself. "Your magic is helpful in a pinch. That's all. Don't read anything into it."

There was silence for a moment, then a half-hearted "Alright" from Loki, and Tommy felt like stepping outside of time to punch himself in the face.

32. “That trip looked hilarious– but also kinda painful; you okay?” [6/4/2019, based in the current main timeline]

The speedster growled up at him from where he'd landed on the ground, but Loki only continued to smile mirthfully down at him, amused by how alarmed the mutant had looked by the sudden appearance of the god mere moments ago and even more amused by his displeasure.

"Here," the trickster god reached down, gripping the front of Speed's uniform and pulling the mutant into an upright position, ignoring the glares Speed was sending him. "Up you get~!"

The slap he received to his face was no surprise, and only served to make him laugh harder, but the sudden, impulsive kiss that drew him in took him aback, and he fell silent as Tommy pulled away again, not saying any words as the mutant paused and then swooped in for another equally impulsive kiss.

33. “I called you because I can’t fall asleep.” [6/4/2019, based during "Young Avengers"]

Tommy frowned at the words, tempting to ask what kept gods awake at night but deciding against it, instead settling for a puzzled "Why me?"

"... I didn't want to wake Wiccan," the youthful god answered after a moment, pursing his lips before continuing. "I just need someone to sit with me for a time, and," he cast a look in Tommy's direction. "you're not known for sleeping much, yourself."

Tommy suffered nightmares and was afraid to sleep (but he wasn't going to mention that), so he figured it wouldn't be so bad spending the night with Loki, avoiding sleep and bad thoughts together for a few hours; things would different in the morning light, as they always did, but the night was long and dark and lonely enough to make people clutch at one another in ways they otherwise wouldn't.

34. “I let you win.” [6/4/2019, featuring Loki as the God of Stories from "Agent of Asgard"]

"Of course, dear heart," Loki answered patiently, choosing to focus instead on the water he had boiling for tea instead of the nearly-naked body of the Tickle War loser behind him.

Tommy raised himself up on shaky legs behind him, and soon the tall, gangly, warm body of the human was pressed against Loki's back. "... You're a monster, you know?"

Loki grinned, aware that his mangled teeth probably made him look like a leering troll but deciding to ignore it for now. "Believe me, Thomas -- I am aware of my monstrous nature."

35. “You look good in it.” [6/4/2019, based in the current main timeline]

The compliment seemed genuine, and, after a moment's hesitation, Tommy smiled proudly, striking a heroic pose in his new costume and putting his hands on his hips. "Yeah? You think? I'm a big fan of the new design myself - I think it makes me look pretty damn cool, right?"

The untrustworthy trickster god Loki grinned, setting down his beer bottle as his eyes shifted up and down, appraising Tommy's entire body. "But, I have to say... I think you'd look better without it. Or, without anything on, I should say!"

Tommy frowned and smacked the sometimes-villain on the arm, making Loki laugh aloud.

36. “Don’t look away from me.” [6/4/2019, featuring Lady Loki]

A sharp bark of laughter escaped Loki's throat; that was easy for Tommy to say -- he wasn't the one surrounded by ghosts of his past selves, all standing around and taunting him, loudly reminding him of every sin he'd committed, everything he'd ever done, and how pointless it was to try not to be the villain of every story when that was the entire role she was born for--

Her inner ramblings were cut off, as Tommy grabbed her by the sides of her face, forcing her to look at him --not them-- and holding her still.

He looked at her face, and sighed. "Look, I don't care what they say or whether any of it is true -- this is here and this is now, so just look at me and listen to me and don't you dare pay attention to anyone else!"

37. “I’m not jealous, I’m just practicing my pout.” [6/4/2019, based during "Young Avengers"]

For some reason, that statement made Tommy grin, even as he held the wriggling, angry amphibian in his hands and as he looked straight at the pouting deity in front of him.

"Yeah, clearly," Tommy answered, hoisting up the squirming teammate in his hands. "And you turned David into a frog because...?"

Loki sighed, looking not quite apologetic and not quite proud of himself as he regarded the frog, his eyes narrowing as he met eyes with David, the teammate who had been attempting to steal a kiss from Tommy. "Well... I suppose that was because I was jealous."

38. “I just want to hug you.” [6/4/2019, based during "Young Avengers"/"Agent of Asgard"]

"Oh? Do you really?" Loki asked without looking up from the books he was scouring, each volume held aloft in the air by magic and gently spinning around him.

"Yeah," Tommy answered, and this time Loki really did look at him, and judging from the look on his face Loki would have wagered that Tommy wanted a bit more than a hug.

"Well, come here then," Loki told him, making a beckoning gesture with his hand; he wondered absently if Tommy was turned on by his magical pursuits or if Tommy knew he only pursued them after having a particularly bad day of being, well, Loki, but, as the human's warm body came to wrap around him, he decided not to bother with answering that question.

39. “You’ve kissed me like fifty times today.” [6/4/2019, featuring Loki as the God of Stories from "Agent of Asgard"]

In all honesty, Loki wasn't keeping count, and Tommy had probably actually kissed him at least fifty times in the last second, taking his super speed into account.

Tommy smirked at the comment, knowing that the other wasn't nearly as bothered as he let on. "Oh have I? You wanna make it fifty-one?"

Loki made an affronted grunting sound, but dutifully moved his face to let Tommy get at his mouth, not putting up any sort of fight as Tommy claimed another kiss.

40. “You love me.” [6/4/2019, featuring Loki as the God of Stories from "Agent of Asgard"]

A statement, not a question, and the words ate away at Loki's mind, making him squirm, making his body burn inside and out.

The statement came again, and this time Tommy's voice was more sure of itself, but with an underlying question beneath, as though he knew the facts but still didn't understand the reasoning why.

The god of lies felt his tongue dry up in his mouth, sticking to the roof and unable to loosen, so he nodded instead of speaking, afraid of the reaction he would get; in the end, Tommy didn't react much at all, but his hand moved a little closer, pinky brushing tentatively against Loki's own.

41. “Can we be alone for a bit?” [6/4/2019, based during "Young Avengers"]

Tommy was impulsive as all hell, and anyone who met him knew it in a heartbeat, but he saw even Billy wince in confusion when those words were out of his mouth like a racehorse out of a gate.

Loki lifted an eyebrow as Billy left, but Tommy ignored it, letting his body control itself for a bit instead of taking orders from his mind; he slammed the mischievous god backwards into the wall, pressing against him and kissing him in ways that even Tommy didn't know he was capable of.

When he pulled away, Loki had a look on his face, like a cat preparing to play with a mouse, and Tommy felt his heart skip against his ribcage.

42. “The stars wish they were as bright as you.” [6/5/2019, featuring Jotun Loki]

The words were out of Loki's mouth before he could stop them, and he felt the blush of darker blue that must have crept across his face as soon as he said it, almost distracting him from the surprised way Tommy turned to look at him, both of them forgetting about stargazing entirely.

Tommy opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then closed it again for a moment, growling and shifting closer. "And what exactly do you mean by that, alien?"

Loki was startled by the human's actions and their sudden closeness, and his mouth froze up, almost too scared to even answer... but, after a moment, Tommy looked away from his close scrutiny, and Loki's hand somehow found itself clasped in the much smaller hand of the human, and it seemed like everything was alright.

43. “You make me cliche, but I love it I guess.” [6/5/2019, featuring Lady Loki]

"Do you really?" Loki teased, the gems in her hair tinkling gently as she turned her head, casting him a sexy smile over her shoulder.

Tommy crossed the room to where she was sitting on a stool, scrying bowl in her lap, grinning as he kissed that sexy smile of hers.

"Yeah," he whispered, moving up to kiss her hair, careful to avoid her horns as he listened to her sigh contentedly below him. "I really do."

44. “I’d feel better if you kissed me.” [6/5/2019, based during the current main timeline]

That statement got him an annoyed look from the mutant speedster. "Yeah... After that little stunt you pulled, that's not gonna happen."

"Oh, come on, Thomas!" Loki responded cheerfully, ignoring the glare he received for using the hero's first name on the battlefield. "I just saved your life, didn't I? Don't I deserve a reward for my chivarly?"

Speed sighed, sounding almost amused, and, grumbling, leaned over to kiss the top of Loki's head where the god lay sprawled on the ground. "Only after you endangered my life, you jerk."

"Details."

45. “You’re overthinking– I’m yours. That’s all I want to be.” [based during "Young Avengers"]

Loki snapped his mouth shut, stunned by the declaration; he knew Billy's twin was impulsive, but to just say something like that, like it was no big deal...

But Tommy didn't take his words back, choosing instead to take a step closer, standing beside Loki with nothing but utter conviction in his eyes, and Loki didn't have to do a check to make sure that the young hero was being nothing but honest with him.

"You don't know what you're saying, Thomas," the reborn monster god said quietly, hoping to push the mutant away, and wondering when exactly it had become so hard to betray those he cared about.

46. “You’re my favorite.” [6/5/2019, featuring Loki as the God of Stories from "Agent of Asgard"]

Loki turned to Tommy, seemingly amused by the statement. "Your favorite what, hm? God?"

"Nope!" Tommy grinned at the diety's confusion, laying his head down on Loki's shoulder and wrapping himself around the diety from behind. "Favorite demon!"

Loki's shoulders shook with dry laughter. "Well... I suppose I could be both."

47. “You want to take another selfie?” [6/5/2019, based during the current main timeline]

If anything, Loki was amused by Tommy's inane question. "Of course I do, Thomas! This lighting is perfect, and my worshippers on Instagram demand nothing but the most quality of their god's content!"

"... They're just followers, Lo," Tommy deadpanned, and Loki didn't have to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes. "Nobody worships you in this day and age."

"You worship me," Loki answered, pulling Tommy in for a kiss before he could argue, making sure to snap a picture - oh, those silly fangirls online were going to go balistic over this one!

48. “I’d let you if you asked.” [6/5/2019, featuring Lady Loki]

Tommy rubbed at where his hand had been slapped away, momentarily confused by the almost apologetic look Loki cast him, her own hand still raised in the air from where she'd struck him away from her horns; he didn't know what it was about her horns that she was so defensive of, exactly (it was just a stupid helmet, after all), but every time he tried to grab them while making out with her, she would react angrily like this.

But, this was the first time she had offered him an alternative, so he swallowed his pride for a moment. "... May I please touch your horns?"

She dipped her head in a strangely submissive manner, casting him a soft, trusting smile. "You may. You and no one else."

49. “Since it’s you, I’m gonna let it go.” [6/5/2019, featuring Loki as the Goddess of Stories from "Agent of Asgard"]

Loki grinned at her lover as she carefully placed the lopsided flower crown on his head, her black lips pulling aside to show the gap between her teeth. "Oh, come now. You look adorable! Besides," she continued, ignoring the scoffing sound he made, "I saw these on Instagram and wanted to try them out."

Tommy only grunted, accepting the second crown from her and trying carefully to fit it around the horns of her royal diadem. "Couldn't you just magic one up if you wanted?"

"I could..." She smiled at his complaints, knowing that he must have loved her to put up with her peculiar whims. "But where would be the fun in that?"

50. “My only regret is not telling you I loved you sooner.” [6/5/2019, based during the "War of the Realms"]

Those were the words that whispered through the air, entering Speed's ears from across the battlefield, echoing in his mind like a sad refrain; it filled Speed with sorrow, and made him fall to the ground, his arms mechanically catching him, ignoring the din of war that came from all sides around him.

He didn't have time for Demons or Angels or Dark Elves or Jotuns -- Loki was dead, killed at the hands of Laufey, and that was all that mattered right now.

Taking a shuddering breath, Speed raised himself back to his feet, looking around at the battle around him without really seeing it; he was an Avenger, and he would avenge the god he loved, even if he had to kill Malekith, Laufey, and Cindr by himself.

#read it or ignore it #I just wanted to put them somewhere #crackships #my writing #I'm in too deep and this is where I live now

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slytherhell · 6 years

Note

Send these to your favorite Authors and let them blab! What is your total word count on AO3? How often do you write? Do you have a routine for writing? What’s your favorite kinks/tropes/pairing? Do you have a favorite fic of yours? Your fic with the most kudos? Anything you don’t like about your writing? Now something you do like! Send it to some of your favorite Authors to spread some love

//////

Total word count on AO3 : 60634 ( and this is with the 3/4 of my fics still not updated since being posted. i’m not sure how it’s this much already, the word count, that is. the most amount of words i’ve written - for a total fic - was about 5k words; then it went up to 16k+ after the food fair entry . just think of how big my total word count could be when i get my writing muse back! )

How often I write: I used to update regularly, back in about 2015. Every day, I would have a new chapter for my fics (on Wattpad, because that was my first main writing platform, but Wattpad’s dead now so we’re here.)

In fact, I used to have a full writing plan; I had about ten hp fics on my account. I picked out the top ones I had the most muse for - which was three, two drarry and one wolfstar - and told myself I would update those fics whenever I felt inspired to.

In the end, I ended up updating those fics three times every week for a good two months, and I had about 24ish chapters for the drarry fics, and close to 20ish chapters for the wolfstar ( I started that fic at a later time than the other two. )

I kept this pattern up, and made sure that everyday after school, I would clear a writing space for myself on my bed so I could write. That helped me a lot and I had so many creative juices...it was insane how much I wrote.

Now, however, I write only whenever I feel inspired to and have enough time + energy ( aka, when I don’t pass out from exhausation and not working on too many things in school - I had and still have a lot of /art/ projects. )

I try my best to write all of my ideas down, but I usually don’t have much inspiration to turn them into longer fics, or anything beyond a simple idea, so most of those get chucked and forgotten.

The ones I do manage to keep around, I usually scribble down the idea on a piece of paper, and write a starter line and/or paragraph to see how it would look if I were to continue it as an actual fic, then determine what I do with it when I get home.

There’s no true definition as to how much I write. I would just say I write depending on my current mood and situation.

Writing Routine:

It used to start in either a swivel chair in the corner of my room, or at the wooden dining room table with a hot mug of fruit-flavored tea. ( It now varies from sitting upright on my bed with music blasting out of my headphones, on the living room couch with the low murmur of the t.v. in the background, or laid sprawled out on the floor with a Kubz Scouts video in the background. )

I try to take a few minutes to write the beginning paragraph on paper, or at least attempt to outline the story ( this usually lasts for about five minutes because I CANNOT sit still, and I’ll fidget a lot if I’m required to sit still for a while. )

I’ll usually look up fics of the similarity to whatever I’m writing, and get further story inspiration from them ( I’ll usually keep those fics up in a seperate tab to read back over when I need help and/or a burst of writing inspiration )

If it’s something I‘m not quite sure about, or something I’m not properly educated on, I ALWAYS do a good bit of research before even remotely writing about it. ( This is something I do NOT skip over, like at all. )

I’m almost always blasting music or video audio through my headphones whenever I write ( I search and listen to music when I write, depending on the theme and the feel of the story. If I’m writing fluff, you’ll probably catch me listening to beautiful piano music. If it’s a dark story - gods, I love dark stories - I’ll be listening to dark music, be it dark piano versions of songs, ambient horror music. And lastly, if I’m writing something emotional, I’ll usually stop by songs that made me cry and sad as child, or that cause me to zone out of reality in present day. )

I try to set a timer whenever I write. ( While it intimidates me, it also pushes me to write more because me eyes are constantly flicker over to the timer, and the closer I see it move down to zero, the faster I write and edit. I kick in about a good twenty words at the very start of the countdown. )

( And unless you wanna hear me rant about how much I get off task and procrasinate writing whenever I can’t figure out how to make a scene work or something of the sort, then this is pretty much it. Oh, and I do a few read-overs and editing when I’m done with the first rough draft. )

Kinks in Fics:

I really like a good ‘ol leather kink in a fic ( specifically when the second half of the pairing, *cough, cough* draco in a drarry fic* is pulling on and stretching on leather gloves, and I blame @mzuul for that because the minute I saw her Draco Malfoy Bad Boy series art, that kink was developed and I’ve loved it since. )

Another one, this is gonna sound really gross + suprising for those that know me, but watersport kink. ( This was first developed when I read my very first fanfictions, and I found a few good drarry fics with this in them so this kink is here to stay )

Hair pulling kink. ( It started out with reading fics fics where Draco would either accidentally or deliberately tug on Harry’s hair, and Harry ended up loving it - but now, I read fics were both Draco and Harry have this kink because it’s actually really good. )

Praise Kink ( Started out with only Harry, but I also like fics where Draco has this kink. I blame @goldentruth813 entirely )

Hung! Harry ( Hung! Like! A Horntail! - this, this fic, is all i’m going to say..)

Parseltongue Kink ( When! Draco! has! this! and! Harry! somehow! still! keeps! his! ability! to! speak! Parseltongue! and uGH,, THIS IS SO GOOD. )

Tropes in Fics:

Legitimate! Enemies to Friends to Lovers

sLOW BURN

Sectumsempra angst

Bi Harry

Pansy is a lesbian

Draco finding out how the Durshleys treated Harry and becoming absolutely lIVID at the news

Dark! Drarry

BAMF! Harry

BAMF! Draco

When they cross paths after a few years and get to know each other + proper character developement + when they clash and they have their ups and downs, causing people to wonder how they’re even comptaible but in the end, they make it work and are able to settle down with each other and enjoy the rest of their lives.

wHEN! THEY ANIMOSITY! STAYS!

Long-haired! Draco

Bearded! Harry

aUROR PARTNERS

Raising a kid together ( tEDDY-! )

pINING

mUTUAL PINING

Sassy! (Canon) Harry

Flustered! Draco

When they’re equally sassy and equally ruthless + being able to get their shit done, and staying on top of their game

When their kids become friends and that forces them to become friends as well and hang out with each other more often

When their kids wants their dads (Draco and Harry) to end up together and make it happen

when it’s hella fluffy

when it’s hella aNGSTY ( haha, chaotic neutural )

Top! Harry!

Bottom! Draco ( I can see them both as either or both being versatile but I really love when Harry tops )

Realistic first times

Their friends setting them up ( I love when Draco, Pansy and Blaise are best friends in fics like this !! )

The constant switch of calling each other by first and last names, depending on the(ir) mood

When they are eQUALS

When they still have bANTER AND STILL ARGUE BUT W/O THE PREVIOUS HATE

When their relationship is real and raw that you can pratically feel it

hURT AND COMFORT ( real heavy on the hurt, just a bit on the comfort bc not drarry all fics have to have happy endings )

Anything involving them both working on a case together

Auror! Harry x Unspeakable! ( or even Healer! ) Draco

Jealous! Draco x (Still) Oblivious! Harry

Oblivious! Draco x Jealous! Harry

Protective! Harry ( Protective! Draco as well )

Beauxbatons! Draco x Hogwarts/Gryffindor! Harry

fORCED PROXIMITY

Multilingual! Draco

French speaking! Draco

Wandless magic ( for both )

POC! Harry ( This is my number one things in fics...I just love POC! Harry

Proper mention and represenation of Harry and/or Draco’s PTSD; following the war

Power couple! Drarry

Pairings:

Drarry ( OTP )

Pansmione

Linny

Blaico

+ a few hundred more ( for all of them, but the kinks in general ) , but you’re probably gonna have to ask off anon bc i don’t wanna lose to remainder of friends i still have left on this site, over this post. ( i keep forgetting that not all drarry accounts follow me - i have some rpers, general artists, people following me with their main acounts + multifandom blogs and i feel like every time i get started up about anything drarry, they just...regret their decision to have followed me xD but you can kinda get the gist of my kinks, right? )

Favorite Fic ( of mine ) : While I constantly dog on my own writing skills, I actually do have some of my fics that I love. But my most favorite? I’d have to say ‘(Fuck A) Silver Lining’

It’s a Draco Malfoy redemption fic I began writing earlier this year ( and yes, it was inspired/influenced by the P!ATD song. )

I mean, I haven’t updated it since I posted it - I began writing it on old Wattpad before I left that hellsite, then I later posted it to my ao3.

It’s my favorite because I really got to explore and go more in depth with Draco’s character, unlike J.K. R*wling.

And I basically filled in all the pieces that led up to the part of Draco’s life we witness ( well, y’all, bc I never read it, ha ) in C*rsed Ch*ld

I basically combined in every post-war Draco headcanon I ever thought of into one whole fic and while it takes you into his mind and shows you just how much the war has changed him, it is actually wholesome. I mean, we’ve got angst, hurt/comfort, finding love, and I even had a few scenes that were so fluffy and pure that I was crying as I wrote - which is why I haven’t updated. Other than dealing with shit irl, this story gets me really emotional and I just love it so much..

Fic with most Kudos:

‘just the right addition’ with 65 kudos.

summary :

harry has a leather kink. but draco didn't know that when he showed up on the field in a leather jacket, and suede leather gloves.

What I don’t like about my writing:

I really don’t like how I transition from scene to scene in my fics. I feel like they’re extremely sloppy and really ruin the story; especially if I had a really good idea/path for the story. ( I also don’t like how I constantly compare my writing, then try and force to change my writing style so it sounds half as good as the author’s writing style of the story that I’m reading )

What I DO like about my writing:

Um, I really like how I start most of my fics off with dialogue. I like how I have a lot on the page, but it still blends in well to get its point across. And also, if it’s a one shot, I like how I have a beginning, middle, and end for the story.

Beginning: Introducing the prompt, and what’s going on with it

Middle: What the characters actions lead to, kinda showing you where it’s going to be heading soon

End : the general idea of the ending/aftermath of it + something like an epilogue, wraps things up in a way.

/////

Thank you so much for sending me this, anon!!

Again, thank you so much, and I hope you’re well!

-Teia

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brassfannibal · 6 years

Note

37.“I tried my best to not feel anything for you. Guess what? I failed.”-silverflint

This is light-hearted (probably one of the lightest things I’ve written). There is a bit of angst but it’s mostly light lol so I hope you like it! Takes place between S3-S4 when they are at the maroon camp

Silver attempts to write a love confession to Flint - 1581 words

–

To Fail

The quill could snap between his fingers like a bone if he lets it. He can press until the ink bled into his fingers, staining the palms of his hands. He’d have all the words he can never fit onto parchment marking his skin.

He wasn’t any good at letters or poetry of any fashion. He’s attempted it and couldn’t stop laughing at himself. He had thrown himself into a fit of manic depression afterward that would be blamed on this bout of madness. Why exactly was he attempting to write James Flint a letter when the man resides a few quarters down from his?

Their training sessions had ended abruptly a week ago when Silver had pressed his mouth to Flint’s. He hadn’t known what to expect but the anger he received was not it. Flint had been furious with him as if this was a form of manipulation, a tactic to gain an advantage over the lessons. Perhaps, Silver could be that petty but not with this, not with him.

Although, that sounds too noble. He, of course, thought it would be a distraction but a distraction for them both. From the heat, from the future. He didn’t expect anything but a small reprieve.

That wasn’t true either though. He always expects things from Flint, more with each day. Another glance his way, a possible smile given to him that he can claim. A tired story about myths conjured out of the sea. Silver wanted to read to him, he wanted to hear what he thought of his musing. Where had that come from? What had any of this come from?

Flint had said: ‘I let you crawl around in my skull’ almost with a snarl to match.

The crawling was the easy part, Flint had let him into all those dark spaces and he had thought he’d make a small home there but he hadn’t let Flint into all those spaces of his own mind. He hadn’t.

He writes uselessly with the drying ink: ‘You miserable fuck’

See…he’s not much of a poet. Although, Silver thinks that is addressed more to himself than it is to Flint. He was a miserable fuck. He didn’t allow anyone to examine his history. It was already made by someone else’s hand why mar the sunlight by collapsing it into the space between them.

He’d imagine Flint sifting through the pile of rubbish that is his past and he’d examine each groove as if it’s something worthy to note.

He scratches out the words messily and dips the pen in ink once again. He writes: ‘I’m sorry’

But that wasn’t true either. He wasn’t sorry for attempting to push their dance a little further. He wants to do it again, so that wouldn’t make him sorry. He scribbles out the words, almost tearing the page with the force of it. He writes: ‘Fuck off’ three times in a row and then gently pushes the parchment aside for a new one.

This time he pours himself onto the page, the pen scribbling furiously and scratching out his thoughts, plucking them forward for Flint to read and examine like that twisted iron wreckage of the cage his heart waits in.

He reaches the edge of the parchment and tosses the pen angrily before folding the page. The ink may not have dried properly, but he didn’t wish to reread it. He didn’t need to see it, he just required Flint to.

He spends the better part of an hour pacing around his cot, wobbling on his crutch and mumbling to himself like a gibbering drunk. He’s lost his goddamn mind.

He gathers up the pages after spending far too much time in his head and folds them neatly along the creases. Hadn’t he already folded the page?

He thought about addressing it to ‘James’ but decided not to address it at all. Formalities were never his strong suit. He stalks across the camp, as much stalking his crutch will allow him to do and reaches the open door of Flint’s sleeping quarters. He knocks once on the doorway and steps inside without much announcement. Flint is reading by candlelight on his cot and sits up bewildered by his appearance. Silver watches the moment Flint remembers he’s supposed to be angry and he shuts the book loudly to punctuate it.

“What do you want?” He coolly asks.

“I wrote you a letter.” Silver replies and Flint squints at him with suspicious confusion.

“A letter? Whatever for?”

Silver holds it out to him and states, “If I am to stand here and explain it to you then the whole point of this fucking letter would be void, would it not?”

Flint sighs and stands, padding over to him barefoot. Silver surmises he is the only one that can appear sleepy and enraged all at once. He rips it from Silver’s fingers and unfolds it with indifference.

Silver, however, is slowly regretting his decision and is tempted to limp down to the beach and let the waves carry him away. He observes Flint’s expression as his eyes glide over the parchment as if they are examining Silver’s heart and the look of utter confusion he presents him sinks any growing expectations.

“It says ‘fuck off’ three times…” Flint relays, creasing his brow.

“Jesus Christ…” Silver breathes with stalk-still horror. He had given him the wrong letter.

Flint eyes the page some more as if such a thing were fascinating and continues, “What exactly is this?”

Silver grabs it from his grasp and tears the parchment in two by the effort of it.

“Couldn’t you have told me this, Mr. Silver?” Flint questions and he still appears more confused than angry.

“It wasn’t…I wrote a different letter. I gave..you the wrong one.” Silver replies with the wave of his hand, towards the shredded pieces of what he suspects are now his dignity.

Flint hums and then slowly breaks into a low rumbled chuckle. He was laughing at him.

“I’m so very glad you find it so fucking amusing.” Silver snaps.

“What did the original say?” Flint asks and he’s trying to hide the laughter behind his words.

The original letter was a scribbled mess of thoughts that he is exceptionally glad didn’t reach Flint’s eyes.

“About our last training session…” Silver begins and Flint’s small smile immediately fades from his face.

“I think we’re done here, Mr. Silver. If you can kindly see yourself out. I have a busy day ahead.” Flint replies coldly. He was well practiced with shutting people out, Silver recognizes the disconcerting likeness between them. Such as when chaos meets chaos, it never balances. There is always a scramble to retrieve normalcy but neither of them will ever achieve it between them.

Flint is glaring at him and soon would come the insults, Silver realizes this.

He blurts, “I tried my best to not feel anything for you. Guess what? I failed.”

It wasn’t the chaotic scribble of his letter or the attempt at pulling something free from his heart. It just was. He failed.

Flint’s expression evolves into something resembling fear as if Silver had presented him with a ship killer and perhaps he did.

They stand there in equal heavy silence before Silver finally takes his leave. His thoughts suddenly bursting at the lively busy camp in front of him. The laughter of a far-off conversation grates on his nerves and he limps slowly away from any prying eyes. He finds a secluded spot by the murky lake and dares not lean to view his reflection. He stopped looking at reflective surfaces long ago, for that is the true abyss.

He hears from behind him, “I thought it was a manipulation.”

Silver startles and turns to see Flint, barefoot still and standing in the line of sunlight cradling the lake.

“It wasn’t.” Is all Silver manages.

“I thought after I told you of my past that you were trying to use it against me, to your advantage.” Flint continues and Silver shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t do that…” Silver replies and at least he hopes he wouldn’t do that.

“Tell me why then.” Flint commands and Silver’s lips break out into a bitter grin.

“I believe I already stated how I felt a moment ago. I won’t be repeating it.” Silver replies and he feels as though his chest could open up to shrivel his heart.

Flint walks closer, cringing when he steps on a bundle of acorns. The bitterness in Silver’s expression evolves into hidden adoration.

“I also failed,” Flint replies and Silver’s heart thuds loudly like a drum. The hopeful stillness and quiet chirping of birds is the only background noise.

“How did you fail?” Silver questions and tries to keep the growing hope out of his expression.

Flint sighs in frustration, “You’ve made me into a fool.”

Silver shrugs and grimaces when the throbbing familiar pain wraps around his thigh like a vise.

“Perhaps, you already were one, Captain.” Silver supplies and Flint closes the small distance between the bright dancing light.

Silver’s face breaks into a grin when he notices Flint’s sharp intake of breath, another small acorn patch has been thwarted by Flint’s bare feet. His small rumble of laughter is stolen from him when Flint presses his lips to his.

Silver can’t help but think in inconsistencies, the threading of time and the light as a guiding form between them but one thing is certain, John Silver will never attempt to write another letter again.

#ellelan #silverflint #black sails fic #ficlet #myfic #prompt

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merryfortune · 7 years

Text

Spirited Away

Gift Fic for: @binlar-lover as part of the Fairy Tales, Folklore, and Supernatural @hqexchange

Hello, I’m your gift ficcer and I hope I’ve impressed you with this fic~

Fandom: Haikyuu

Ship: KiyoYachi

AU: Youkai & College Student AU with a hint of Studio Ghibli’s Spirited Away

Word Count: 5959

Links: Ao3 | FF.net | Ko-Fi

Warnings: Angst, implied caracter death(s) potential body horror (skip Kei’s description if necessary), read the ending part 2 if you want that weet, sweet angst

Yachi Hitoka was not a very strong person.

No, she had many, many weaknesses. She loved stationary and couldn’t help but buy anything with big eyed kitties on it and pastels. She always wants new markers and highlighters. And those are her quirky weaknesses; she’s also terrified to death of walking alone, of subways, and a good many more things. And right now, topping the list of her many, many fears was a very, very pretty woman.

She was gorgeous. Divine. Ethereal. Her hair shimmered in the moonlight. Her glasses caught the neon lights of the fast food stalls and made her seem flushed pink but in an alluring way because her eyes glittered. She was tall and slim; her stance accentuated by the tight kimono she wore that drew her upwards and in. It was such a lovely kimono: navy blue with silver and white trims.

And this beauty among mere mortals like Hitoka was talking to her in her soothing, graceful voice with eloquent small talk. She pushed stray strands of her black hair over her ear.

It was terrible.

Hitoka watched her rouged lips open and close but she didn’t hear a coherent thought over the babble of panic and infatuation that was her internal monologue.

‘Would you be willing?’

Her voice finally cut through Hitoka’s drivel.

I would die for you, Hitoka thought but thankfully did not say.

‘Absolutely.’ Hitoka said; enchanted and bobbing her head like a chicken with her eyes open and awed.

‘Fantastic. I hope to see you there then.’ she said. ‘I’m Kiyoko, by the way. How rude of me to not tell you to begin with.’

‘Hitoka!’ she spat out. ‘Yachi Hitoka… first year… college student.’

Kiyoko blinked. ‘College student?’ But she soon composed herself. ‘Well, just like it says on the flyer: next Tuesday evening at that location. I shall see you there.’

‘Heck yeah you’ll see me there.’ Hitoka awkwardly replied.

Kiyoko giggled. ‘I have a feeling you’ll fit right in. Now, I must take my leave.’

‘Y-Yeah, okay, bye.’ Hitoka babbled.

What had she signed herself up for?

The paper was not glossy in her hands. She had expected to be squinting at a flyer that was professional but it wasn’t. It appeared to be completely inked by hand; but by an artist as it was extraordinary. It depicted an old-style bathhouse and there were crow motifs throughout. The eyes of the birds in the pictures seem to follow Hitoka; it was unnerving but another marker of how well-crafted the flyer was.

‘Welcome! Come one, come all: the Karasuno Bathhouse. Help wanted: part-timers and casuals to do cleaning.’ Hitoka read aloud. ‘Meet after hours on the second day of next week… That’s Tuesday. Interviews will take place.’

Hitoka nodded to herself as she mused over the flyer. She didn't think herself much of a cleaner but working in a bathhouse seemed like it would be a fun opportunity. There was something deeply romantic about old style bathhouses; she used to go to them with her parents so nostalgia was begging her to take the opportunity.

With a smile, Hitoka returned to her aunt and uncle's place. She was living with them until she got her feet. She still very much felt like a rural girl lost in the midst of Tokyo. She couldn't believe she used to think Torino was big.

Hitoka was an advertising student and she took great care in her studies. Call her boring but she delights in directing commercials and spam. That was totally why Hitoka pinned up the bathhouse flyer above her bed; even after putting all its dates and details into her various calendars and planners.

That night, as she tucked herself under the covers, she felt oddly giddy. Hitoka was very much looking forward to the job interview. She clutched her sheets, turned over, and whilst the prospect of earning money was very much appealing, her mind was completely on Kiyoko and the hope that they could reunite. She could barely sleep with her mind thinking about everything that could go right!

For once.

How unusual. How completely and utterly rare… and wonderful. Relaxing.

That had been Saturday and the day flew. Hitoka stuffed herself silly on Sunday and Monday with studying just so she could have all of Tuesday to prepare. It was a funny time, ten o’clock but it was the will of the manager, presumably, and therefore should not be questions.

All of Tuesday, Hitoka practised her bows and what she would say and ask. She practised the most-polite way to drink tea and her aunt and uncle, who were getting on in their years, were thrilled to bestow all their traditional knowledge upon their niece. Especially in the absence of their two sons who had gone off the be engineers abroad; they couldn’t be prouder but still, there was something important about learning that which had come before them and yet Hitoka’s cousins had never been interested.

With all this practicing and exercise, the day flew and with each passing hour, more butterflies manifested in Hitoka’s stomach until she was a rickety, fluttery mess. She had tried to ignore it but it worsened.

Hitoka’s Uncle Takeshi drove her to the location on the flyer. It was a fair bit out of the way; bordering close to the outskirts but he was sure the pay would be good. He didn’t seem to mind either. That being said, he had a hard time getting there. He felt like he couldn’t see a thing with all the thick foliage and darkness. They drove into the more spiritual grounds of Tokyo; past many shrines – little and big and into the mountains. There was an eerie vibe; especially given as it was night but then, Hitoka saw it through all the landscape was a building of men; not of the gods.

The Karasuno Bathhouse was huge. It was set upon a small island on a small lake. It was grand and elegant; at least four storeys with huge, dipping roofs with jade tiles. It was of scarlet wood and there was a beautiful, arching bride connecting it and them. With the cover of darkness, against the cobalt sky, it looked exactly like the painting on the flyer save for the grey clouds that shrouded it.

Her Uncle whistled. ‘There’s something about old bathhouses, eh.’

‘Indeed.’ Hitoka replied breathless.

‘Shame about the state it’s in.’ Uncle Takeshi lamented. ‘So old, dilapidated. They must have come into money if they’re hiring new help; maybe they’re doing it up. Bringing you in here for some cheap labour.’ He shrugged. ‘Have a good interview, maybe think twice about accepting it.’

‘Y-Yeah, it is a very long commute.’ Hitoka replied. She glanced at her uncle then at the bathhouse.

Old? Dilapidated? The only other building anything as regal as this one would be the Emperor’s estate.

‘I expect you’ll be done by eleven-thirty, I’m going to go find a ramen stand and grab some dumplings. I’m also going to go to one of the shrines so pay respect to the local gods, I don’t want to offend them with my car. Ring me if you need me, I promise to be close by.’

‘Thank you, Uncle.’ Hitoka replied.

She took her handbag and exited the car. She held firmly onto its white straps and farewelled her Uncle. He stayed put, carefully, protectively. Hitoka crossed the bridge. From the base, it seemed like an impossible walk but it was quite the opposite. Just as scary though, but quite the opposite.

One, two. Her ballet flats conformed to the wood underfoot; Hitoka never realised how thin they were until now. Three, four. Her toes dug into the grass; wood did not dig into her dainty foot. And she was there, at the end of the bridge and being looked down upon by the grandiose bathhouse.

At the bottom of the bathhouse, it felt like morning. Not a sunshiny morning but morning. Like when you wake up three am and expect it to still be yesterday. That feeling of beautiful unreality where time exists… but it doesn’t. Yet the clock still ticks on with daring flicks even though it doesn’t matter.

Hitoka approached the gaping hole with a black-green curtain slung across it with a white emblem: a simplistic bath and some steam; a staple for every bathhouse, Hitoka supposed. She pushed it aside and her heart hammered in her throat. Her ears pricked up: she caught murky halves of conversations, clinks and clunks of metal pans, gushing water, and even music. It felt very familiar and homey which was a comfort to Hitoka. She let go of a breath she didn’t realise she was holding

Nervously, Hitoka attempted to press on. She quaked inside of her ballet flats and she craned her head. The inside of the bathhouse was every bit as gorgeous as the outside. It was of gleaming, light coloured wood and there were intricate artworks and tapestries and all sorts of objects of interest scattered. People – patrons and workers – mingled in between it all.

Hitoka came through. She scanned each way, like she was at a busy road, and tried to cross. Only to be bombarded and pummelled by an unknown from the left.

There are rules, sweetheart…

I know, Grandmother.

Promise to obey them – for me?

I will, Grandmother. Pinkie-swear.

Hitoka was pushed to the ground and dog-piled by two unknown individuals. This is it, she thought to herself, squashed to death. They wriggled around on top of her; calling each other names and insulting each other for what was essentially a joint issue.

Eventually, they coordinated each other and got off of Hitoka. They both bent down and helped her up. Hitoka, with eyes spinning, accepted as many hands as she could grasp. They pulled her to her feet and as Hitoka recovered from her dizzy spell, she was greeted by a broad smile and a sullen scowl. Both just as equally terrifying as the other.

The smile belonged to a short, young man with amber eyes. He had a scruffy mess of orange hair with flicks and curls going everywhere. The scowl belonged to a young man somewhat taller than his companion and Hitoka. He had stunning blue eyes and sleek black hair.

They both wore a black kimono with orange patterns.

‘Was that a car you were just in?!’ the shorter young man asked, eyes going wide as he practically reverberated with excitement.

‘Uh… yes.’ Hitoka mumbled

Rule 1: Never tell them your real name.

‘Dumbass, there are more important things in the world than, um, vehiculars.’ his companion chastised him.

‘Now look who’s the dumbass: you can’t even say “car”!’

The two quickly dissolved in a tiff and Hitoka was powerless to do anything about it, until a frighteningly tall, blonde in a black-and-orange kimono approached. He was a chilly demeanour and Hitoka’s levels of stress continually heightened.

He sighed. ‘I thought you two were goofing off.’

‘We weren’t!’

‘We were asking her very important questions. I’ve never heard anyone using a human car. She must be a rich brat from the heavens. I don’t like her already.’

The blonde turned to Hitoka and appraised her with sharp eyes. He sneered. ‘I can’t believe it, you might be right: she does look like a rich brat.’

‘Aah! She’s wearing western clothing!’ a fourth young man pointed out. He had a lot less presence than everyone else wearing the black-and-orange kimono. He had a freckly, kind face with cute features and almost green hair. ‘I apologise for my friends, your highness, you must have come a long way. I think it is admirable of you to mix with us commoners; get a job among us. You must be used to idling your days away.’

‘No! Not at all! I’m just a normal… girl. Here to get a part time job. I have student fees to pay for. And a mouth to feed. That’s all. I don’t want to be a burden to my aunt and uncle.’ Hitoka explained.

There was a moment wherein everyone stared, baffled as they each other their own unique understanding of what was going. Each understanding a significant degree from the truth of the situation.

‘I’m Kei. Who the fuck are you? You are a new part-timer… right?’

‘Yes. I am. I’m Yachi Hitoka; here to apply for the bath scrubbing-cleaner position… thing.’ Hitoka explained hurriedly. Her cheeks flushed and her heart hammered.

Rule 1: failed.

The orange haired youth shot up in a bound. ‘Woohoo! Just like us! Just like us!’ he chanted.

‘I… am?’ Hitoka mumbled.

‘Well yeah… we were part-timers hired a while back now. I’m Tadashi; it’s great to meet you. I’m the pinch server so if there are problems in the kitchen, I step in. It’s a great job but mostly washing dishes.’

‘Good to meet you… Tadashi.’ Hitoka said, struggling to meet his chirpy eyes.

‘I’m Shouyou and this is my partner Tobio! We do the corridors and rooms; making sure all the beds are made but mostly dusting. We’re really good at getting the hard to reach places.’

‘Again, good to meet you both… Shouyou, Tobio.’

‘So, we should probably take you to see Old Man Ikkei, huh.’ Kei mused.

‘Mm, he’ll want to meet her, yeah. You know, so he can hire her.’ Tadashi agreed.

‘Thank you.’ Hitoka said.

Rule 2: Do not eat what they give you.

As a boisterous group, they navigated the bathhouse. It was like a rabbit warren. Hitoka felt in place though. Normally, she didn’t like big crowds but here, though it was noisy it was like there was no substance to it so it didn’t scare her. Also, being part of a pack of big, tough boys was a comfort because they had some sort of authority. People knew to avoid them but when they did avoid them, there was a tad of disgust upon their faces. Perhaps it is because they were the hired help. How rude.

Although Hitoka thought that, she also thought there was something off about these young men. They had good faces, good charisma, varied personalities and were over all quite nice upon getting to know them and their humour, there was something wrong about them. Beneath the surface. It was like there was a disconnection between what she was hearing and seeing, and what she was processing. It was like getting used to hearing a song mashed-up with another song and trying to listen to the original and waiting for parts that weren’t there

Tadashi tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘Hm… anyone else peckish? We’re going to pass the kitchens soon. I can pinch some fruit, if you guys like.’

‘Oooh, grab us some meat buns!’ Shouyou said.

‘Yeah, meat buns!’ Tobio agreed.

‘Ugh, fine.’ Tadashi said but mumbled under his breath about how much trouble he’ll be in with he got caught.

‘I would prefer some fruit.’ Hitoka said, disjointedly.

‘Same, actually.’ Kei piped up.

‘Okay then.’ Tadashi chirruped.

When the kitchens came up, Tadashi was in and out like a thief. He came back with a plate of fruit for Yachi and Kei and meat buns for the others. Shouyou and Tobio greedily pilfered from the plate. The fruit, of course, was left untouched by them.

‘Carnivores.’ Kei dismissed them under his breath.

‘Here you go, Hitoka-chan.’ Tadashi said.

‘Th-Thank you.’ Hitoka replied, awkwardly, wondering if it was appropriate for him to call her that so fondly. They had just met after all.

Hitoka took an apple from the plate and she bit into it. It was such a crisp colour: a beautiful crimson. And it tasted even better. Wondrously sweet and very firm with a satisfying crunch. Her eyes lit up.

Rule 2: failed.

‘They’re great, aren’t they?’ Tadashi said with a lot of pride.

Kei’s face went red and he huffed, hurried on lest Hitoka saw him. Lest any of his friends saw him actually.

‘Kei and his brother Akiteru manage the orchard.’ Tadashi boasted.

Hitoka threw an impressed look to Kei; ‘They’re really tasty!’

She blinked. Squinted. Hitoka had never worn glasses but she felt as though, she had just taken off a pair. She rubbed her eyes.

‘Is something the matter?’ Tadashi worried; Shouyou stopping in his tracks and showing concern.

‘I – I think I just got dust or something in my eyes.’ Hitoka replied.

She blinked once more; her eyelashes fluttering and she squinted. Then her eyes widened; eyelids flapping back in panic. She screamed.

Tobio had horns. Big horns that looked like drills. Not to mention teeth that were jagged and animalistic and inherently… wrong-looking; inhuman-looking. Kei only had half his face; from his cheekbones, he had bone. His flesh from his jaws down turned to a fleshless skull. His eyes didn’t seem to exist; they were just blackened sockets. His hands were a mix of flesh and bone. Then there was Tadashi. He had skinny, scaled legs and no shoes for his feet were akin to that of a chicken; not to mention his freaking wings; beautiful wings that were blue, red, yellow, and green!

The only normal one was… Shouyou and even then, it was like he was constantly shifting. This form – this human form – was not real. It was a glamour; an illusion. The only thing real about him was that metallic sheen about his eyes; a hint to his true form.

Hitoka backed away from them. She bumped into the wall and felt her skin crawl. She trembled; knees knocking.

‘What’s going on?’ Tobio asked; his fangs gnashing and grinding audibly – or was it only because Hitoka was terrified?

‘Y-Y-Y-You’re monsters!’ she screeched.

The four looked among themselves, confused.

‘You’re… not?’ Shouyou asked; deflating.

‘N-No, why would I be?!’ Yachi shrieked.

‘Because you’re here. At a bathhouse. For. Youkai?’ Tobio said.

‘A what?’ Hitoka murmured; going pale.

‘The Karasuno Bathhouse; a popular stop for youkai from all over!’ Tadashi said.

Hitoka genuinely thought her heart would stop beating there and then. That she would die from a heart attack. Instead, she was pumping blood good and new. As always.

‘What is that racket!?’ a crotchety, old man voice rang out.

‘Crap!’ Shouyou muttered. ‘Old Man Ikkei.’

The four shuddered and moved away from Hitoka. They lined themselves up along the opposite wall and waited. Soon, an old man descended on them. He scuttled along with a pounding cane. He was greying wings and a great nose. He wore the finest garments Hitoka had ever seen. He seemed older than time.

Hitoka swallowed. So, the stories were true then. They had to be. Three rules, Hitoka remember now. There were three rules that her grandmother had drilled into her when she was a child. Everyone thought that dear old Grandmother Reiko was a bit airy and fairy in her old age. Turns out… she was right.

Three rules. And Hitoka had broken two of them. She dropped her apple. It rolled towards the old man. He bent down – grunting and creaking – and picked up the apple. He inspected the bite marks.

‘A small mouth. A girl’s mouth.’ He decided.

He continued to hobble along. One pounding foot after another aided by his cane. He got to the youths and Hitoka. Everyone was terrified.

‘Lads,’ he began, ‘off ya git, you’ve been goofing off far too long. Knew I shouldn’t have put Tobio and Shouyou in charge of greeting the potential part-timers.’

He paused. They started to sneak off, hoping that was the brunt of it.

‘I SAID OFF YA GIT but I’m giving you extra chores tomorrow!’

He was a Tengu, Hitoka realised. He commanded authority. He appeared regal.

His face softened as he happened upon Hitoka.

‘What’s your name, lass?’

‘Hitoka Yachi.’

‘The girl Kiyoko recruited, correct? A… human. I can smell it on you. The filthy half-bloods over there… no wonder they didn’t realise, they thought you smelt normal because you’re like them. Are you a seer?’

‘No. My grandmother was though. I think.’ Hitoka replied.

‘Hitoka… Reiko?’ he asked.

‘Yes… how did you know?’ Hitoka asked, her eyes brimming with curiosity despite the fear.

‘You have her eyes.’ Ikkei lamented. ‘Grandmother… huh? No wonder she hasn’t visited in a while. She was the only seer ballsy enough t’ visit. She – She still hanging on?’

‘No, she passed away two years ago.’ Hitoka replied.

He turned around in a huff. ‘You’re hired. You’ll be Kiyoko’s personal assistant. Yui can get you the women’s kimono first.’

‘Really?! Just like that?!’ Hitoka said.

‘Yep.’ Ikkei said. ‘Come along now, Hitoka.’

Hitoka kept pace with Old Man Ikkei. He seemed like a tempest; powerful, raging but he was actually quite serene. He gave Hitoka the impression that he had seen many, many things in his lifetime. They did not talk. Only walked.

He dropped her off in the private quarters reserved for staff. Hitoka knocked on the door and in that moment, Old Man Ikkei had managed to disappear. It was very quiet here, until there was a hot scramble for the door.

‘In a second!’ voice rang out and then the door pulled back.

A face emerged: a grinning, cute face and Hitoka’s heart skipped a beat. A woman, tall and somewhat masculine, allowed her into the room. She wore a navy-blue kimono with white or silver patterns and trims. It really accentuated her height and figure. The room was strewn with silk and spider web. It smelt of steam and fresh linen.

‘Hello, good to meet you, part-timer. I’m Yui. What’s your name, cutie-pie?’

Yui immediately set to work on understanding Hitoka’s body type and height.

‘Yachi Hitoka.’ Hitoka said. Having remember her previous mistakes, she also added: ‘Human.’

‘Whore.’ Yui muttered, unfazed, as she had pins in her mouth and she put fabric around Hitoka, squeezing her tightly.

‘Sorry?’

‘Sorry? Wait, oh, I’m a Jorōgumo, sorry for the confusion. Human, huh, that’s rare.’

In a matter of seconds, Yui was soon finished making a kimono that was exactly perfect for Hitoka.

‘I’ll make you a back-up kimono in a moment. As well as some sleepwear.’ Yui said.

‘Will I have to be there for the fittings?’ asked Hitoka.

‘Nah, I never forget a cute girl’s measurements.’ Yui said with a wink.

‘Oh…’ Hitoka became flustered.

‘So, where do you need to go. You can get changed if you like, I’m a professional.’ Yui said.

‘Okay.’ Hitoka mumbled.

She explained herself as she got unchanged. Yui took her clothes away from safe keeping. There was a growing feeling of lucidity. It felt unlikely that Hitoka would ever see her faux office worker clothes again. There was a feeling she wasn’t going to see much ever again. It bothered her that that didn’t bother her. She felt like she was slowly forgetting something.

‘Okeydokey, all done.’ Yui said and she admired her handiwork.

Hitoka had never worn a softer or more perfect kimono. She felt like the Emperor’s daughter in this. It was lovely. Just for her. The dark colouring of the kimono was complementary against her fair skin; like the moonlight in the night.

‘You look great. I hope you enjoy working here. The Karasuno Bathhouse is like a big ol’ family. It’s great. You’ll get along so well with the First Years.’

‘The First Years?’ Hitoka echoed.

‘Oh, that’s just what us ancients call the other new part timers.’ Yui chuckled. ‘They’re good kids. You know: Shouyou, Tobio, Kei, Tadashi… just unfortunate. The Community is dying nowadays, they needed a home. One that’ll accept them. Thank goodness for the Bathhouse or they’d be on the streets.’

‘I don’t understand.’ Hitoka said.

‘You’d be on the streets too, I reckon.’ Yui lamented. ‘A human seer who’s been hidden by the monsters…’

‘Three... rules.’ Hitoka said. No wonder she felt like she was dreaming. She was trespassing upon a very thin line.

‘C’mon, I’ll get you down to Kiyoko’s bath. She’s the manager; handles the finances and stocks. She’s so smart, I wish I could be like her. I’m bit of a dunderhead but she tells me that she wishes she could sew like me. So, there’s balance. She’s teaching me complex math on her breaks though!’ Yui babbled.

‘Oi, Twins!’ she yelled. She banged on the wall.

A muffled reply came.

‘The Twins are hosts. They’re not usually busy at this hour so they’ll be right to take you to Kiyoko. They’re waitresses who work with Tadashi sometimes.’ Yui said. ‘Off you go, I’ve got guest laundry to wash.’

‘Thank you, Yui. I feel wonderful in this work kimono.’ Hitoka said as she slid the door across.

‘Don’t mention it, unless you get a rip. Just doing my job.’ Yui said as she composed piles of clothes into baskets.

Hitoka met with the Twins and they soon escorted her to Kiyoko’s bath. They were very sweet gals who curiously had no names. They were a collective: the Twins. A shame as they were fraternal rather than identical and that they had defined invidualistic personalities even as a unison.

They later told Hitoka that once, they were doll and master but deep, dark spiritual power one day corrupted them. Not that they had many memories of what it was like back then. A century or more ago now. They feared the same would happen to Hitoka. The urged her to respect the final rule.

Rule 3: Don’t fall in love.

The Twins took Hitoka through the weaving warren of intricately interconnected rooms and corridors. They were constantly pointing out things that were need-to-know. Those are guest rooms, that’s a closet, we don’t use that, when we do use that it’s a make-out spot… It went on and on and on.

Soon, Hitoka was brought to the ground floor’s furthest room. Moss and flowering vines constricted the walls. It was chilly here but she didn’t mind.

‘Kiyoko is right in there.’ The Twins said and they opened the door for Hitoka.

It scratched along the frame and Hitoka cautiously stepped in. The Twins pounded on her back, encouraging her. She licked her lips. Rule three. Rule three. She reminded herself of it as constantly as she could but it kept slipping from her grasp like wet soap.

The Twins farewelled her and shut the door behind Hitoka. Hitoka wandered into the bath. It appeared to be part of the ground rather than a room as there was no flooring; only a canopy of sorts above them. The bathhouse was becoming more and more architecturally improbable with every room Kiyoko becomes acquainted with.

It was brisk but the thick kimono kept Hitoka warm. She wondered if it really was made of Yui’s spider silk.

Hitoka soon felt lost in Kiyoko’s domain. It was like she had stumbled into a forest without trees; only a lake guarded by rocks. But this was hers to keep clean, what was she to keep clean?

‘Hitoka-chan?’ a voice lifted from nowhere; a beautiful, lilting voice.

‘Kiyoko-san?’ Hitoka replied.

Splish, splash, and soon a glorious head of wet hair emerged from the lake. Long, bare arms sopping wet anchored a body to the rocks and Kiyoko pulled herself up. She glistened in the faint starlight.

‘Where are my glasses…’ she mumbled.

Hitoka drew closer. There was a crisp crunch of grass underfoot and Hitoka’s feet grew soggy with dew.

The lake soon swallowed up Hitoka’s vision. It was as still as a mirror and coloured like the night sky. The lake was burgeoning with lily-pads with vibrant pink, yellow, and white spiky flowers reaching upwards. Bubbles bigger than the flowers gathered here and there alongside pristine, white foam. There was a sweet, mild fragrance in the air that lulled Hitoka into a state of dreaminess with its tempting presence.

Amidst it all was Kiyoko. From the waist, down she was in the tremendous, dark water. From the waist, up she was nude. Her black as ink hair slick and sliding down her bare, alabaster back and showing off the gentle curves of her pale shoulders. Her demure yet sultry eyes searching for Hitoka. Her lips, a soft peach pink, slightly apart and pert like they were about to be kissed.

‘My glasses, can you find them?’

‘Of course… Ki-Ki-Kiyoko.’ Hitoka sputtered; enamoured with the gentle, poetic beauty of Kiyoko.

Hitoka awkwardly toddled off; feeling eyes on her back. She soon found Kiyoko’s glasses on the other side of the pool. Kiyoko followed her through the water; not through the grass. She hefted herself up once more onto one of the rocks. Hitoka handed over her glasses and her eyes became more focused, bigger and Hitoka could see just how lovely a colour her pupils were: eyes as grey as the fog that spirals on a stormy beach. She was positively enchanting.

The third rule. The third rule. Stuff the third rule.

‘Thank you, Hitoka-chan.’

Hitoka swooned every time Kiyoko said her name. She spoke so elegantly and her sweet, mature voice polished every word and turned it into something precious. It rendered Hitoka breathless.

‘I heard you will be my personal cleaner as Ikkei-san hired someone else for general duties.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘I suppose it’s less for you to clean. After all, what is one large bath compared ten-and-four small baths?’

‘See, putting it that sounds like a huge load off. Less hours too, if I can bulk up and clean quick.’

‘Indeed.’

Kiyoko swayed, she continued to hoist herself at the lake. She was graceful, effortless. She did not ask Hitoka for help and Hitoka was too spellbound to even think of asking if she ought to. Kiyoko’s lower half raised from the water; droplets rolling off of lovely grey and blue scales and fins.

A ningyō… she is a ningyō, Hitoka thought idly to herself as her eyes caught on how beautiful, how-fish like Kiyoko was.

‘Once every two weeks, I would like you to clean my bath. If that works for you.’ Kiyoko said as she sat up, twisting around so not to harm any of her raiment-like fins and attachments to her wide, beautiful tail that tapered into lovely, see-through fins that were curly and fluttery.

‘Sounds good.’ Hitoka replied.

‘I hope we get along.’ Kiyoko said with a smile as she played with her hair, placing it into a loose plait. Already she was beginning to dry.

‘Yo-You were wearing a kimono… and shoes. When we met. How?’ Hitoka asked. ‘If you don’t mind me helping.’

‘Every so often, I adopt an illusion and I transform myself. I can’t do it frequently lest it hurts me.’ Kiyoko explained.

‘Oh. How… magical.’ Hitoka replied; struggling to find a reply.

‘Ne, Hitoka-chan, would you like to sit with me?’ Kiyoko asked.

‘Sure.’ Hitoka said.

She removed her wooden clogs and socks. She sat upon a cold, damp rock next to Kiyoko and lets her toes dangle and skirt along the frigid surface of the lake.

‘Is it always this cold?’

‘Only at night. I don’t mind. It’s when it gets too hot though… yes, that can be a pain. The struggles of being cold blooded.’

Hitoka placed her hand close to Kiyoko’s. Kiyoko’s fingers wandered over Hitoka’s. Her digits were long and bony. Cold too but Hitoka didn’t mind. Soon, they were holding hands and watching as streams of silvery moonlight beamed down from high in the starry heavens and unto the lake.

‘I like to believe I am quite blessed here.’ Kiyoko mused, her voice soft, husky, alluring.

This couldn’t be more removed from what Hitoka knew. She found herself thinking about the summer when she was eight. It had been windy and rainy and awful most of it. But the day she went to visit her grandmother, it had been perfect. The skies were clear; not a cloud in sight yet petrichor permeated the plants and earth; encasing Hitoka with its pleasantries. She sat in her grandmother’s lap; watermelon juice dripping over her face as she attempted to eat a slice bigger and thicker than her hand.

“There are rules, sweetheart…”

“I know, Grandmother.”

“Promise to obey them – for me?”

“I will, Grandmother. Pinkie-swear.”

I swear I will, Grandmother or else I shall swallow a thousand needles, Hitoka thought to herself but she could feel her memories growing weak, twisting into dreams.

‘Ne, Hitoka-chan.’ Kiyoko piped up, breaking Hitoka’s reverie.

‘Yes?!’ Hitoka squeaked.

‘Promise me that you’ll stay with me for as long as you can?’ Kiyoko asked, gently.

‘I promise.’ Hitoka replied.

Memories turned to dreams: foggy, uncertain… gone. And to seal the spell with the strongest bind, Kiyoko leaned in.

Rule 3: failed.

Hitoka mimicked. She leaned in. Her skin prickled. Her heart raced.

Their lips connected slowly. Hitoka was embraced by the smell of fresh water and lilies; delicate, light. She was enchanting. Kiyoko’s lips were soft but she was firm, guiding, knew what she was doing and Hitoka allowed her to lead as she was graceful.

It was a relatively long kiss and it made Hitoka’s spirits soar. Truly, the spell had now been wound tightly around her and her heart. She felt unbreakable. She felt like she had forgotten something. Kiyoko’s hand tightened over Hitoka’s. yes, she had forgotten something in the thrill of the kiss.

Yachi Hitoka was not a very strong person.

No, she had many, many weaknesses. She loved stationary and couldn’t help but coddle the big-eyed kitties that wandered around the bathhouse. She loved pastels; always gawking at sunset and sunrise. She always to filch peaches and lychees from the harvest. And those are her quirky weaknesses; she’s also terrified to death of walking alone, of gross looking mess, and a good many more things.

However, right now, topping the list of her many, many fears was not a very, very pretty woman but leaving her. That being said… why would Hitoka ever leave her?

She fears she has forgotten and it is a far more harrowing fear than anything else she has ever encountered.

[The ending part 2: read if you want Extra Angst(tm)]

Yachi Hitoka was not a rule breaker. She was neither a promise breaker, and yet…

Missing College Student’s Remains Found After Sixty years

Harakawa Ayumu [journalist; JNN]

After nearly sixty years, Yachi Hitoka (19) has been returned. Her family can finally have closure.

Yachi Hitoka was a university student belonging to University of Tokyo. She was studying advertisement. She was a bright, young woman beloved by friends and family alike. She was described as well organised and cheerful. People often said her greatest flaw was how easily stressed and anxious she became.

Due to these characteristics, her family immediately found it unusual when she did not return phone calls from them regarding her whereabouts.

Yachi Hitoka was last seen by her Uncle: Katsuragi Takeshi. She had been attending a job interview at a “Karasuno Bathhouse”.

Yachi Hitoka’s remains were found in the area of her job interview but no sight – or superficial record – of a Karasuno Bathhouse has been found. There have been scattered reports of one existing but due to the untrustworthy verdicts of witnesses having found a Karasuno Bathhouse, it is uncertain as to if Yachi Hitoka had even attended an interview or if she had been scanned. It is to our understanding that a mysterious woman gave Yachi a flyer alerting her to the possible job position at the bathhouse. This woman, or her employer, never came forward.

Yachi’s remains were found wearing a navy blue and white kimono made of an unusual substance. Analysis says the fabric is spider silk. She was also aged considerably and showing odd signs of compositions. Foul play is suspected.

Rest in peace, Yachi Hitoka.

#merry writes stuff #hq fantasy exchange #hq ffs 2017 #hq ffs #hq fantasy exchange 2017 #kiyoyachi #yachikiyo #yachi hitoka #kiyoko shimizu #hqexchange #eh i'll add links later #i hope binlar-lover likes it #i spent a lot of time *coughs* one day bc procrastination *coughs* on this #i'm so sorry #i had a shitty week and did a lot of procrastination but i whacked out 4500 words today (probably mre) and edited so i'm p proud

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