#ill get like a flash of an image in my head and then i gotta draw it
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Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 1610! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader
Summary ೃ⁀➷ Based off of Conan Gray’s song, Heather.
Genre ೃ⁀➷ Unrequited love, one shot
Tags ೃ⁀➷ Unrequited Love, Really rushed, It’s like twelve here damn, short one shot, Reader is a hopeless romantic idk anymore, not proofread, it’s mostly just poetic shit idk
Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ ill design it tomorrow goddamn it i just wanted to write, might wake up and rewrite idfk
“𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫,”
Suddenly, all of what was left of November passed, with the dead, scarlet leaves the only homage remaining of the autumn that’s escaped your grasps. Autumn left as quick as it came, you couldn’t even bid a proper adieu.
When you think of December, you think of this icy wonderland— a winter that’d leave you huddling in the comfort of thick coats and hot chocolate, while patiently waiting on the nearing holiday that was prancing around the corner. Instead, what poured was not the icy flare of snow, but rain heavy enough to send you and Miles bolting off for cover.
In the thick downpour, your giggles emanated throughout the dim alleyways as the two of you sought sanctuary beneath a bus stop, somehow able to shield yourselves from the pitter-patters that raged on in a sideway fall.
“Oh my God, your hair.” You pointed at his drenched curls, a low laugh following along. Miles shook his head, running his fingers through the fluff of his waves when it poofs up again after a few turns. “It’s got magic, don’t worry.”
You brush your hands over the drenched skirt of your uniform, cursing to yourself. “Kinda need that magic for my clothes too.”
“That’s ‘cause you ain’t a magical being like me,” He huffs while wiping his hoodie. “You’s a mere mortal.”
“Okay, extraterrestrial being, control the damn weather then.”
“Hell yeah I will,” He snaps his fingers up to the skies. “Rain harder f’me, clouds!”
And the rain oh-so-gracious heeds his command. After a short while of cursing him out, you and Miles sat by the bench with your laughs easing down— replacing the excitement with a shared sort of exhaustion. With your heads pressed against the graffiti-covered glass wall behind you, you take a moment to subtly angle your head and look at Miles. He doesn’t notice it at first, but when he catches on, he turns and exchanges the stare with his own, a subtle “What?” escaping his lips.
From the chill of your spine, you mumbled.
“Nothing.”
You sheepishly looked away. “I’m just.. So exhausted, God. I need to work on my cardio.” A small fit of coughs exit your lips, covered up by the block of your wet sleeve. “I don’t understand how you get to run so quick— I couldn’t even see anything.”
“You still caught up pretty quick,” He beams. “Gotta admit, you’re a quick runner.”
“Thanks, I practice by running away from my problems.” A heft chuckle followed. “M’just kidding.”
Miles takes notice of your quivering hand— a frail shiver emanating ‘til the tips of your fingers. For a moment, the short idea of wrapping his hand over yours crosses his mind, but he shoots it down as soon as it came. It inches only a tad bit closer, but the image of someone else flashes in his mind when he looks at you like this.
“What a mood.”
“Running away from problems?”
“Yeah.”
You raised a brow. “You? You run away from your problems?”
He lazily shrugged with a hum. “Everybody runs away from their problems every now and then. It’s aight.”
“In a way, I guess,” You lean a little closer, but your shoulders never touching. “But in the end, no matter how much we run away, it’s all gonna end up catching up to us.”
Miles shoots you an amused look. “You been paying attention to philosophy class lately?”
“Prof Martha and I are besties, y’know.” A tint of sarcasm colored your words, redefining your connection to the strict teacher. “She likes me so much, she calls my name first during every fucking recitation.”
“It’s cause you’s always on that damn phone.”
“With or without my damn phone, nothing can make me sit still throughout her lecture.” A gruff huff escaped your mouth.
“Damn, not even me?”
You looked at him, wondering if he was flirting with you or if it was just your delusional brain whispering sweet theories into your ear. But even then, you admit.
“Ionno, maybe.”
You couldn’t even look him in the hazel of his pretty eyes.
“Maybe?”
He sounded half-disappointed, but you didn’t want to plant a presumptive seed inside your overly creative brain. That word alone’s enough to craft you a million what-ifs later on when you’re fading into the world of your dreams.
A chill runs down your spine.
“… I think I’m definitely gonna get sick tomorrow.”
“Oh, shit,” He sits up. “We definitely can’t have that happening.” Immediately after, he starts taking off his sweater. You flush, rambling on with the same question; “What the fuck are you doing!?”
“Our presentation’s tomorrow, and if anybody’s gonna be presenting the damn thing, it ain’t me— so you,” He tosses it over to you. “You wear this for now.”
You hesitate for a moment, dragging your hands towards the red polyester with a raised brow.
“How about you?”
Miles shrugged. “I can make do. My system’s made out of steel.”
“Made out of steel but you can’t perform for shit?” You pull the sweater over your head, the fluffy thing engulfing you into warmth. It was still somewhat damp from the rain, but it was better than earlier.
“Huh,” Miles sat back as you looked up to meet his gaze. “.. Would you look at that. It looks better on you than it does on me.”
Your eyes glanced down at the crimson, your hands smoothing out the creases of the cloth. “Really? I don’t usually wear this shade.”
“You don’t?”
“I’m more of a.. Less saturated kinda gal.”
“.. I mean, you can have it if you want.”
You shot him a look of disbelief. “.. Does this sweater have a hole because if you’re giving this away I—“
“It doesn’t have a hole, [Y/n].”
And your name rolled off his tongue so gently, it caught you off guard.
“I just think it looks better on you.”
Upon that murmur, he crossed his arms over his chest and sunk deep into the comfort of his seat. You’re stuck contemplating with an open palm, straightening the creases of his sweater. “Are you really giving this to me? ‘Cause I can give it back to you after laundry day.”
He shook his head. “Just.. Think of it as an early Christmas gift.”
“.. Thank you, then.” A smile crossed your lips. “I’ll keep it forever.”
When you see the way he looks at you— like a sort of guilt laced in hesitation, but a certain sort of awe. At that moment, a sense of hope lingered inside you like a dream. You think, maybe, just maybe, that helpless look in his eyes— that sort of gut wrenching longing— was crafted entirely and solely, exclusively for you.
But you knew that gaze of his wasn’t for you.
And you knew exactly who he was pretending you to be.
Oh, if only I was her.
Feelings, your feelings— erratic, volatile, and erupting out of you like a bird unwilling to be caged. You wanted to speak, say it— just say it.
But your hair wasn’t as golden as hers, your cheeks weren’t as rosy as hers. You wanted her effortless pixie hair cut, her ballerina grace. She reminded you of those flowers fleeting in the wind, like the purple heaths they called ‘Heathers’. You wanted to smell like her sweet perfume, do everything the way she does, just so Miles could look at you the way you imagined he’d look at her.
His doe-eyed sweetness. You wished you could own it, you wished he’d spare at least a part of it for you.
Rather, you wanted all of him for yourself.
You wanted a glimpse of this girl beyond the confines of Miles’ dabbles in watercolor and markers. You’d much rather prefer the object of your jealousy walk across your sights, smile with the bunny teeth he likes so much, and make your stomach churn rather than have you dwell over a 2D image you couldn’t help but gauntly skim past.
What is it about you that I can’t make Miles look at me?
Maybe if you’d meet her beyond his sketchpad and recollections, then maybe you’d understand why he can’t get her out of his mind.
At that moment, she was just someone you wished to be.
The bright red of this polyester which you deemed unfitting of your skin. You wondered if Miles truly meant it when he said it suits you— or if what he truly meant was that the shade would’ve looked great on her.
As the sweater was yours, but Miles was hers.
Your arms meet with a tiny press, and you feel his shiver. It was only so subtle, but at the ease of his shoulders, you couldn’t help but think as he looked onto the empty space with a blank stare.
Wish I were Heather.
#miles morales#miles morales 1610#1610 miles x reader#earth 1610 miles morales x reader#spiderman 1610#earth 1610 miles fluff#earth 1610 miles morales x you#earth 1610 miles x you#miles morales fluff#miles morales x y/n#miles morales x you#miles morales x reader#atsv#spiderman atsv#atsv x reader#spider man: across the spider verse
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Inheritance
This is my first time using AI images let me know what you think
The deceased farmer could only morn as he spent year after year watching the land he had worked so hard for crumble to time. He had lived a full life to the ripe old age of 92, had six kids who in turn had kids, who they themselves had kids of their own.
None of these descendants though had visited the farm in the 79 years since he had passed, so the ghost could only watch as his lives work slowly disintegrated.
That was until she came along. The old specter could feel his blood in her veins and became excited to see her on his land. She had been coming for just over 2 years now but she did nothing but take sketches and wonder the old property. The farmer wanting to know what her plans were got closer then he ever had before only to discover she was drawing rows and rows of ugly little homes! He tried everything in his power to knock the sketch book from her hands. Growing more and more frustrated at his impotence the normally calm ghost let loose all of his anger and rushed at the young woman.
Claire's POV
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It was another hot day on this god forsaken piece of shit land, my grand inheritance from my Great Uncle.
ugh..... Shivers
That was weird its been hot and dry all day long, where did that frigged blast of cold air come from? I crossed my arms as I became aware that I might not be alone out here.
"Hello?" I called out into the summer void
Mine!
Was the last thing I heard before my body spasmed.
It was just a moment and then I was picking myself up off the dusty ground. I stumbled as I tried to find my balance, my body seemed heavy and bloated.
I called out again. "hello? who are you? show yourself"
Mine! It's Mine, and you will not have it!
I doubled over as wave after wave of pain washed over me. I scrambled to find my cell phone in the dusty earth.
There!!!
It was hidden underneath the fallen sketches. I grabbed it and hit redial so it would call my fiancé Trevor. After the 3rd ring I hear a deep male voice say hey babe.
"Trevor you gotta come here now. Somethings wron....wrong... wi... wit.... with me!" My voice was cracking under the strain of the pain.
"Babe ill be ri" click
I look in horror as my finger hits the end call button.
Then something controlled my arm and threw the phone into the nearby bushes.
It's Mine, not yours! You will not take it!
Oh My Fucking God. The Voice Was In My Head!!!!!
Who the fuck are you? I thought at (it/him?)
No girl is gonna curse at me on my own land!
Oh I can now feel him invading me, changing me.
Get the hell out of me you fucking piece of shit.
I could feel him moving around stretching me from the inside. No mattered what I tried nothing seemed to stop him.
I was helpless as my body grew more masculine. Hair sprouted on my boobs which in turn were quickly changed into an impressive set of pecs. My torso widened and my arms got heavy with the added muscles.
Mine, I want it all, You'll never take my land
I could see him now! He's just an old man.
I use my will to push at him, but nothing seems to work!
In fact the more I push the less like myself I feel.
Get out of me you old codger.
My body kept changing as I could feel him taking me over piece by piece.
Most of what was me is fading fast. He was winning. Hell even if I could somehow remove him would i be stuck like this or return to normal?
These questions danced in my head as the last of me was being consumed.
Yes!! Mine It's all Mine, They will never take away our land again!
With the last of what's me I could feel the old bastard be consumed by someone else. No this was something new. No Someone new!
My bodies last bit of femineity died as my clit sealed up and reformed into a cock worthy of the man I'd become.
Everything was on fire as a bright flash.
Clive's POV
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Fuck, I'm gettin old, I know 45 is not that old but when you've been working to restore your families farm for the last 25 years it sure takes a toll. What started it as a dilapidated farm is now one of the richest ranches in the state
It would have been harder without my husband Trevor, he has been my rock, and my right hand ever his folks kicked him out and he came to me to be my farm hand.
Now 17 years later we've adopted 6 kids and life couldn't be more hectic or fun. I owe it all to my Inheritance.
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[Image description: A tall yellow poster announcing an upcoming comic series. The texture of the drawing and lettering is scratchy, like dense pastel or graphite. The header is a brown banner with ragged orange letters that reads “RAGS” in all capitals. The dark yellow sub-header banner beneath that reads “a comic book by Carlie Hughes / rainbowchewynuggets. Coming 2024” in yellow letters.
The body of the image is a close-up view of a masked figure in robes riding into the wind, drawn with brown outlines. Their body is spindly with oversized gloves and clothes. These clothes are orange, with shading that implies the sun is ahead of them. The figure is accented with yellow on the details of their mask and the trim of their robe, buttoned down the middle. The animal they’re riding on is rendered as a shadow. The negative space of the poster is occupied by song lyrics. The yellow lettering is the same color as the background, but they stand out because they’re written on darker yellow blocks of color. It makes the lettering look like part of the negative space. Each line of the song has the number of syllables next to it to make it easier to interpret the rhythm in your head.
The lyrics read:
9 Build your tower out of stones, they say
9 The poison pool felt like home to me
7 Cus I was busy drowning
Pause
9 I learned to see with my eyes turned in
9 And blindness to the kill–that is
7 Until I heard you drowning
Pause
7 Your hand reached mine to pull
8 But when I saw that you’d saved me
7 At last I felt the burning
Pause
7 They’re sending out their hounds to
8 Tear with jaws of steel and break you
7 Along the stones that I’ve earned
Pause
9 Time ain’t on our side, how long it takes
7 Burns an ache to break the day
9 When the illness in them turns fatal
Pause
9 These filthy hands stain my heart and bones
7 I’ll throw off the shame I lived
9 And grow new in a sandy cradle
Pause
8 I’ll peel the dead leaves from your face
7 Mend your stolen pieces and
7 Give you every breath I have
Pause
8 Crickets sing with no sympathy
7 As the sunlight stretches out
7 On our land of broken glass
Pause
5 Give me no doubt
5 Give me no proof
5 I’ll scale the walls
5 And shatter the roof
9 Let the rain fall, break down the tower
Pause
5 Lightning will flash
5 And thunder will shout
5 You’ll gather them up
5 And wash it all out
9 Let the rain fall, break down the poison
Pause
5 Break down the poison
Pause
5 Break down the poison
End description.]
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Note: Probably not actually coming in 2024. This is conceptual art.
P.S. The song is written to the tune of Gotta Knock A Little Harder.
INDEX
(I’m trying to play with formatting the description vs commentary section since I can’t seem to get the alt text function to work on mobile--and it seems to not work for everyone anyway. Let me know if having the header of the commentary section helps and what else I can do.)
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pleeease can we have more teacher barry au? or kidfic? my crops are dying
Alright, sorry for the slight delay on this one, but please know that you're a menace and I kept thinking about it and then I wrote this for you all in one sitting.
It's both teacher!Barry (though still set in the canon universe!) and coldflash kidfic. <3 I just put it up as a prequel to "good cop, bad cop" on ao3, since I guess it technically is that? Although, if you guys have opinions about what order the series should be in, I'd interested to hear it!
“Barry?”
“Hm?”
“You’ve got something in your hair.”
Barry hid a wry grin, and glanced over at Len—at least, glanced as far in his direction as he could manage. Two small hands were holding his head still, though Henry did let go of one handful of Barry’s hair to reach out when Len stepped around the coffee table and stood in front of them.
“Alright, kid.” Len bent down and hoisted Henry off Barry’s shoulders, and both of them ignored Barry’s indignant yelp when Henry didn’t quite remember to let go of Barry with his other hand in time. “I like the hair too, but he’s gotta move his head to”—Len propped Henry on his hip and reached out to steal the top page from the stack of papers in front of Barry—“grade pop quizzes.”
“Those are midterms.” Barry stretched, then tipped his head to one side with a muffled crack.
“Then you’re going easy on them.” Len took advantage of his distraction to hand the paper to Henry, who scrunched it in his hand with a broad smile.
[read on ao3, or continue reading below the cut]
“Len!” Barry recovered the paper in a sweep of yellow lightning, and Len traced his trajectory from the fading after-image even as Barry tried to smooth out the test on the arm of the couch.
“So feet on the coffee table are allowed when the Flash does it?”
“Language,” Barry reminded him, without looking up.
Henry, ever the trooper, was taking the loss of his prize in stride, and Len rewarded him by bending his knees to let him reach for the next paper in the stack.
“Leonard.”
“He’s working on his reading.”
“He’s eighteen months old.”
Len read the upside-down paper Henry was offering to him. “Another year for whoever’s test this was, they might be at his level.”
Barry got the same ruffled look he always did when he was torn between defending his students and agreeing with every hyperbolic praise Len had for their son. Eventually, he landed on, “You’re not helping.”
“I disagree.” Len accepted the paper from Henry, turned it right-side up, and finished skimming it. “You’ve got a typo in question three. That’s why they’re all putting ‘hydrogen.’”
Barry yanked the exam back, despite having a stack of identical ones on the table in front of him. His eyes went wide as he looked over it at Flash speed, and then he said a word that made Len cover one of Henry’s ears with his free hand and tut.
“You shape the minds of the next generation with that mouth?”
Barry wasn’t listening, too busy dragging his hand down his face, his fingers ending up in an annoyed fist over his mouth.
“Can you please,” he said slowly, evenly, with the couples-shrink-approved, conflict-management voice that always made Len smirk, “give Henry his snack.”
“With pleasure.”
Barry leveled him a glare, but it was without heat, and he tilted his chin up in a clear request for a kiss when Len passed behind the couch again.
Len obliged. He could feel some of the stress drain out of Barry’s shoulders when he drew his fingertips over the edge of Barry’s jaw with the hand not still supporting Henry.
“Hi,” Barry murmured when Len pulled back, at least a full minute later than he’d intended. “Missed you.”
“I was gone an hour.”
Barry’s answering smile was crooked, with an unabashed dimple that Len refrained from tracing his thumb over; he had a reputation to protect. “You know, you could just say it back sometimes.”
“Fine.” Len smirked as he tweaked a cowlick that Henry had left in Barry’s hair. Then he met Barry’s gaze, all false sincerity, and drawled, “Hi.”
Barry rolled his eyes. He couldn’t hide the wry smile even when he turned his head away for a second, though, and he gave Len a playful glare. “You know I meant—“
“Hi!”
For a second, neither of them moved. Then Barry reeled back with something like panic in his eyes, alarmingly contagious, based on the way Len’s heart tripped into fourth gear. “Did he just—“
Len hoisted Henry up to sit on the edge of the couch, and they both stared at him. He ignored them both for a few moments, small hand squishing the cushion before he watched it slowly expand back to its original shape. Then he noticed their eyes on him, and looked up with a beatific smile. “Hi!”
Barry was off the couch in a bolt of lightning, then back a heartbeat later with his phone out, talking so fast he was nearly incomprehensible. “Twice, Joe, I swear, he looked right at us—“
Len got a glimpse of Detective West’s patient expression on the phone screen as Barry waved it toward Henry. “Barr, you said that the last three times. I told you, kids talk when they’re ready. Iris didn’t say a word until she was—“
Barry turned the phone and held the screen out to Henry. Len bit back a reflexive objection; they’d agreed, no screens until he was five (and it’d be eighteen if Len had his way).
Henry reached out for the phone, all Barry’s reckless confidence when confronted with anything new.
Tinny over the speakerphone, West’s voice said, weary but unflaggingly affectionate, “Hi, Henry.”
Barry let Henry have the phone—and that time, Len did shoot him a look—and Henry flattened a tiny palm over West’s face on the screen. Then he tilted his head thoughtfully, lifted his hand, and chirped a delighted, “Hi!”
Barry swept him up with a rush of static that made Henry shriek with laughter, phone forgotten in an instant. Barry deposited them both at Len’s side with a breathless grin, and Len didn’t quite manage to disguise his own smile as a smirk when they looked up at him in unison. West’s voice was still coming from somewhere nearby, but Barry could fish the phone out from between the cushions later. For now, Barry was getting suspiciously bright-eyed, and Len lifted Henry out his arms before Barry could set the kid off crying, too.
“Who had ‘hi?’” he asked. He ruffled Henry’s hair, already overdue for a cut, dark and curling up at the ends. Henry only allowed it a moment before he started to fuss, his snack clearly not forgotten despite the excitement.
“Iris,” Barry hiccuped. He wiped the heel of his hand over both cheeks, then said, “She had ‘hi’ and ‘bye.’ She’s gonna be insufferable.”
“She’s gonna be rich,” Len countered. “Mick put ten grand on ‘Flash.’”
Barry shook his head on a laugh. “You did explain to him that we’re specifically not letting people say that in front of him? Given the whole”—he gestured, with a glimmer of lightning that distracted Henry into a fresh smile—”child’s grasp of a secret identity?”
“And deprive the pool of his ill-gotten gains?” He passed Henry back to Barry and tapped him on the tip of his nose. “Never.”
“She’s just gonna put it in a college fund.”
Len hummed, and didn’t mention the account he’d already placed a quarter mil into at the credit union downtown.
Barry’s eyes narrowed all the same. “What was that?”
“What was what, dear?” Len leaned hard on the pet name, flat and sarcastic, but he knew even before Barry straightened up that it wouldn’t work.
“That ‘hmmm.’ That was an I’m-not-telling-you-something ‘hmmm.’”
Len was saved by the bell, literally.
Someone leaned hard on the buzzer to the front door. A second later—and utterly predictably, given the number of metas in the family Len had married into—Wally West phased through the door, bouncing on his toes and looking around the room before he even finished setting Iris on her feet.
“Joe says Iris won,” he said.
Barry tore his suspicious gaze away from Len to blink over at the new arrivals. “Joe knew about the pool?”
“People on six different earths knew about the pool, Barr,” Iris said. She leaned on Wally as she toed out of her work heels. “Now, give me my favorite nephew. Can you say, ‘journalism school,’ Henry?”
Barry let her scoop Henry out of his arms, his brow still furrowed. “Wait, six different earths? How much was in the pool?”
He sounded a hair indignant, and Len took the opportunity to snake an arm around his waist and pull him back against his chest.
“Say the word,” he murmured against Barry’s ear, smiling when he felt him shiver. “I’ll get you triple by dinner.”
He felt Barry’s heart speed up where his back was pressed against him, and Len nipped the shell of his ear to cement his victory.
“No felonies,” Barry reminded him, but his voice was breathless, and he didn’t disentangle himself from Len’s arms.
“Mm, forgot again,” Len lied. “How about we send Iris and Wally to show Henry’s first word to Joe in person, and I make it up to you?”
A blush was climbing steadily up Barry’s neck, and he’d already shown his hand when he said, “The midterms. Progress reports go out Friday, I have to—“
“Telling me the fastest man alive can’t grade a stack of ninth grade chemistry tests before third period tomorrow?”
“They’re for my AP class,” Barry gasped, and he caught Len’s hand where he’d been tracing his fingers down Barry’s stomach. But he cleared his throat, then said, “Iris? Maybe you wanna bring Henry to the station? It would make Joe’s day.”
Iris gave him a knowing look, but her eyes were warm when she shared her smile with Len. “Mm. I bet it’ll make someone’s day.”
“Singh’s, probably,” Wally said, where he’d been drawing increasingly elaborate flowers of static out of the speed force for Henry’s fickle amusement. Then he glanced up. “Oh. Oh, you meant—yeah. Alright. I’ll grab the diaper bag. And congrats, you guys. On the first word, not the—“
Iris patted his arm and interrupted with, “The station, Wally?”
Wally ducked his head on a nod and gave them both a sheepish grin.
“Make sure your father doesn’t arrest my sister,” Len said. “She’ll show up as soon as she gets the intel out of Cisco.”
“No promises,” Iris said. “But I’ll give him the heads up. Bye, boys.”
The after-image of Wally’s lightning hadn’t even dissipated when Barry dropped his back against Len’s shoulder, one foot tapping rapidly. “Are we bad parents?”
Len nosed at the corner of Barry’s jaw and slid his fingers under the hem of his shirt. “No.”
“Maybe we should—should’ve, uh, reinforced it, more. He might get—confused. He said ‘hi,’ but we—oh my god, did we even say ‘bye?’ Len—“
Len spun Barry and pushed him back against the couch, then kissed him to distract him from looking anxiously at the front door. “You’re overthinking this.”
“I’m overthinking this,” Barry agreed. “No, I’m not. Len, his snack—“
“There are snacks at the station. Joe has a drawer full of Cheerios.”
Barry slid a hand through his hair, gave one last jittery look toward the door, and then slumped back against the couch with a laugh. “You’re better at this than me.”
“Already did it once,” Len said, smoothing the worry out of Barry’s brow with the pad of his thumb. “And look how Lisa turned out.”
It didn’t land the way Len had aimed it to. Barry gave him a warm smile instead of an alarmed look, and Len had to tick his gaze away for a break from the earnestness in that expression.
“Yeah,” Barry said. “Yeah, okay. Now maybe we could, uh, stop saying our family members’ names for a little while?”
Len rolled his eyes, but he allowed Barry a brief smile as he hooked his fingers in the front of his belt. “I thought you’d never ask.”
*
*
[❤️ Link to Ao3 ❤️]
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Hello! I recently read your azul's ficlet and i'm close to crying at how beautiful it is (its 4am emo hours). If its okay, may I request a ficlet of Jade with a gn!reader with the word 'sleep' or 'rest' (pick whichever suits better!). Thank you in advance! 💖
CW: Spoilers for the movie Your Name (Kimi no na wa), character death, body switching, angst with a happy ending, and slow burn (sort of)
Feedback in greatly appreciated!
Thank you to @opalmaplehibiscus , @jellyfishstuckinwonderland , and @raven-at-the-writing-desk for the input in the making of this fic. I greatly appreciate your help.
The Possibilities are Endless
“My name is..”
“Please remember me...!”
The crowds on the train pushed them apart, a braided bracelet was tossed towards Jade. A lifeline connecting both of them together, a connection between two souls; the face of one that was desperate to keep holding on, they yelled one last time just as the doors of the train closed and their grip on the bracelet wrap loosened.
“My name is—!”
Jade opened his eyes and he was in his room, his very dark room. To his side was his closet and to the other a white wall. The sound of bubbling water churned behind the window of his dorm room and with one slow blink, he pulled himself up and hunched over.
The same dream, the same voice, the same bracelet tossed to him.
He craned his head to his lamp stand where the colorful wrap lay next to his earring, he doesn’t remember where he got it nor does he remember why he wanted to keep it for so long. He took the bracelet and looked at it and thought back to the voice in his dream.
“Please remember me...!”
Pushing himself off he moved to the mirror to fix his appearance, with his brush and hair gel in hand he let out a gasp when the lights of vanity shined light on a note. A note written on his cheek with a marker, a message he didn’t remember writing.
“Who are you?”
It was during breakfast that Jade began to notice the strange happenings around him, how Azul asked if he was feeling better or how Floyd said he was wearing his earring again. “What do you mean,” Jade questioned. “I always wear it.”
“You weren’t yesterday. And you looked so lost like some little guppy, you even forget how to get to class yesterday morning.” Floyd complained, eating his breakfast with a huff. “Was it a prank? Cuz’ you got me good.”
What was he doing yesterday?
He woke up, went to school...No. That wasn’t what happened. He didn’t recall anything from the previous day. In fact, he remembered being at a different place.
In a city full of buildings and faraway from the sea, the familiar smell of white roses, the smile of an unfamiliar fellow and a bento box he had no recollection of him cooking or making.
His uniform wasn’t black but a cream with a tint of yellow, his magical pen was nowhere to be seen and was instead replaced with a pen nib brooch. He touches his cheek, remembering the message written on his cheek. “Who are you?”
“C’mon, you gotta tell me.” Floyd pestered, his arm over Jade’s neck “Was it a prank?”
“Perhaps.” The twins laughed, Floyd pulling close but in his mind he thought of the message, his incapability to remember the previous day. He needed more answers but only questions filled his head.
His notes were a mess and full of sketches. There were sketches of Night Raven’s facade and the students, his classmates. A slew of messy messages on paper, the handwriting worrying as if the person writing was stressed beyond belief.
“The uniforms are black, the gems are pens.”
“Nothing but roses for miles.”
“Wishing well???”
“Where am I?”
“Mr Leech, please read the next line.”
“Yes, sir.”
Trein’s brow raised and he blinked. “Well, today you actually remember your name. Perhaps you were just feeling ill.” A hum of laughter passed through the class. “And your hair is fixed as well; I was beginning to think you and your brother switched places when you came into class with a messy bed head.”
Jade blinked, tilting his head. “I...see. I’ll make sure to not make that mistake again, professor.”
“Good. Continue on reading.”
“Magic transcends all meaning when twilight occurs, when the sun and the moon share the sky for a single moment.” Trein explained, using a magical pointer. “The word twilight means ‘half-light’ when the light of the sun glows and causes refraction in the atmosphere and signaling the end of the morning and welcoming of night or visa versa. At times like this does magic become unpredictable and free-forming and when realities begin to overlap each other for the time twilight occurs. This was used to the advantage of the earliest magician in recorded history.”
Trein faced his students. “Nowadays, these times of day are known as dusk and dawn as the world twilight has fallen out of favor in recent years.”
“It’s probably because of that one book.” A student yelled from the rows behind and Trein nodded his head. “Ah, yes, ten years ago was an odd time for the word ‘twilight’.” Trein blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Who would have thought the human body produced so much diamonds but that is beside the point.” The bell rang and the students began taking their books. “Be sure to read up on your lesson today, we will be having a quiz tomorrow on the topic.”
Jade stayed in his seat for some time and stared at the diagram on the board.
Twilight.
In the back of his mind, a flash of a memory comes to him. He remembers a train stopping by and the droves of people coming in and out. Jade was alone that time, buying something some seeds or fungi. The sun was setting at the time, the yellow sun turning orange and the sky dimming to a nightly violet.
“Jade.”
He didn’t know the person who called out his name nor did he remember what they looked like but he did remember the smile they had, as if they were looking for him for a long time, it was a face relief.
“It’s me.”
He didn’t know who this person was nor did he ever remember their face and yet, at that instant he seemed to have known them his entire life. In his heart was a feeling of warmth, of glee, of content and relief; he was confused by it all. A strike of panic pierced his heart when that smile turned into a confused and upset frown. “You don’t...remember me..?”
The next stop came and people began filing out, pushing the two of them away from each other. “Jade, please remember me!” They said as they were pushed out by the crowd. Reaching up, they pulled the braided tie from their hair and threw it out of him. “Please remember me..!”
He caught the braided tie just as the other let go and doors began to close.
“My name is—!”
“Is there something wrong, Mr Leech?” He blinked, looking to Trein with confusion. He had missed the door and stood by the wall of the classroom. “Ah—I’m sorry.” There was a hissy laugh from Lucius as Trein set him down on the table to collect his papers. “You seem to be in deep thought, is there something on your mind?”
“No, professor, I was just thinking about our topic today.” Jade lied through his teeth and Trein took it with a huff. “I know twilight is a regular phenomenon but I didn’t know that it was an important time of day for mages and magicians.” A nod came from his professor. “Many people nowadays don’t see its importance as magical materials and magic itself have grown and changed over time. With the new technology and the new breakthroughs we have, the archaic practices of the past have since then been abandoned.”
Trein looked to the window and Jade followed his gaze, the sun began to set and the color of orange and violet painted the sky. “Twilight has begun.” Picking up his beloved cat, Trein stretched his back and moved to face the student in front of him. “It’s best to get back to your dorm, you might miss the curfew.”
“Professor, have you ever experienced anything during twilight? Like the way you’ve explained it during class?” Jade asked suddenly, his professor’s eyes widened then looking to the side to think for a moment. “I have but they were more of dreams than the otherworldly claims of recording happenings. I would often see myself in another person’s shoes, seeing a world I did not know about, it wasn’t a pleasant experience but...It was interesting, for a dream at least.”
“I see. Thank you very much, professor. I’ll be on my way.”
He stared at his messy notebook unblinking, the messy handwriting and the sketches were foreign to him. He drew a few doodles but he never put any detail to it nor was he able to do sketches of his peers in movement.
“Where am I?”
Taking his pen, Jade wrote a message. What had happened to him wasn’t a dream, he knew that and he knew that what he was about to do wasn’t a sure fire guarantee that whoever wrote this will see it but the unpredictability of the situation allowed him to push through with an eagerness to see the end results.
“You are in Night Raven College. My name is Jade.”
The night loomed over the dorm, the once blue waters a dark purple and tinge of black. Twilight has ended. Jade closes his eyes for a moment and sighed, thinking back about the lesson and to the confused glances of his peers.
“Please remember me...!” The voice begged, the image of a braided bracelet flowing through the air as it flew towards him. Tugging his sleeve, the bracelet was wrapped around his wrist snugly; its design was simple and bright mix of blue, yellow, and red.
“Please remember me...!”
Jade tugs his sleeves back down, only stepping out of to his bed when he felt tired. The bracelet was removed from his wrist and sat next to him.
“My name is—!”
The voice echoed through his mind, he felt that he should remember it, he felt like he should know who it was, and all he felt was frustration and eagerness to see this unpredictable situation through. He closed his eyes wanting to rest his eyes rather than sleep.
“So this is what Night Raven College looks like. It’s very pretty, your uniforms are very pretty too but I’m not used to the environment there. It’s probably because of the walls or the silence.”
It had been a few days since the messaging through the notebook began with Jade and his pen pal, of sorts. It seemed that his new pen pal had been observing weird happenings to them too. Their classmates telling them of their weird behaviors, one time all they ate were mushrooms.
“I don’t even like mushrooms and because of you I ate a whole lot of them in just one day!”
It seemed that his odd dreams of seeing another world unlike his own weren’t dreams after all. The white and yellow uniforms, the sweet smell of lilies, and the pen nib brooch all pointed to Royal Swords Academy. Apparently the person he switched bodies with studied there.
“And I was told that I ate eel for lunch and it upset my brother. It seems both of us are even on this regard.”
He always wrote messages on his notebook the moment he got home and he preferred it that way rather than waking up to writings on his face and arms. The marker ink was hard to wash off, even with large amounts of sudsy soaps.
“We have a notebook to communicate for a reason, please use that.”
“I like writing on your hand, Jade.”
There were moments that he expressed frustration with them, even anger but that soon dissipated into childish antics of messages written on skin, eating disgusting foods they came to like, and a bond that transcended physical reality. They were from two different worlds and yet, here they were being friends.
All this was just like a dream to him.
“Hey, about that braided bracelet...Where did you get it? I had one just like it before it disappeared; I used to wear it on my hair.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer to that. It just came with me, I suppose. I couldn’t part with it for some reason so I’ve been wearing it ever since.”
“I guess we just so happened to have the same braided tie, huh? Hehehe!”
After class, Jade went to experience the twilight hour for once and see the students filter out of school and run about. It was the end of the week and it was a time for fun, brooms flew overhead and magical swirls of dust were thrown about by fun-loving students.
“What I like about your school is that none of you are afraid to get dirty and have fun.” He remembered his pen pal writing. “I love RSA but the uniforms and the rules we live by stop us from having fun like all of you there in NRC.”
He couldn’t blame them, RSA had some rules to go by and the uniforms really stopped them from having fun too. The chaos that he saw in RSA wasn’t like those in NRC, not by a long shot but he could see the charm it had in it despite the difference in school life.
Jade wanted them to experience this first hand one day. In their own body, of course.
He went back to his room when the sun had disappeared and the moon stood in its place. Sitting by the notebook, he took his magical pen from his pocket and began writing his response to his pen pal’s recent message.
“RSA has beautiful scenery, there’s no doubt about it. It’s a nice change of pace from the gothic feel NRC has, I find it rather peaceful. Though the sudden music lessons do tend to throw me off but that is something I will eventually come to get used to.
He tapped his pen on his desk, humming at his short reply. He looked at his wrist; the braid coiled around his wrist and was vibrant under the yellow light of his lamp. Unlike them, he never really gave hints of what his school life was about nor did he give details of what it was like to spend a day in RSA.
“We had a lesson about the magical phenomena known as Twilight. Apparently around that time, magic becomes different and realities begin to overlap...Do you think that’s what’s causing us to switch bodies?”
“Twilight...I’ve heard of that phenomenon too! It actually makes sense, maybe that’s what's causing it but if it’s really true then that’s some real strong magic!”
Jade slept that late that night, the braided tie next to his forehead. For once, he didn’t dream of the train station but of a hand coming up to take his own. No, it wasn’t his hand, it was his pen pal’s hand, and it grasped softly then tugged for him to follow.
He was on a mountain, the sky glittering with millions upon millions of stars. It was a beautiful sight, his eyes widening as the stars grew closer and closer, the heat around him rising and rising; burning his skin and singing his hair. The world around him was destroyed and the last thing he heard was the terrified scream of someone he was beginning to hold dear.
He awoke with a gasp, his eyes tearful and his lungs out of breath. Next to him were a concerned Azul and his brother Floyd. “We could hear you gasping from the hallway.” Azul explained but Jade kicked off his covers and ran to his desk, his notebook, their means of communication was empty. The messages he had collected with them were gone and only his own remained.
His brother tugged at his shoulder. “Look at me.” He was whirled around, their foreheads touching. “Breathe. You’re gonna give yourself an attack if you don’t breathe.”
He closed his eyes, leaning against his brother to breathe harshly. A pair of hands pats his back, Azul’s and Floyd’s, in an act of comfort but none of their touches reached Jade. He was too confused, too shaken up, too anxious. “It was just a bad dream.”
A dream...
What he had seen in the eyes of his pen pal was all a dream...?
Pen pal?
“It’s best that you get some more rest.” Azul said, pulling Jade back to his bed. “I’ll explain to the teachers what happened to you.” Floyd nudged him down and pulled the covers up until his brother’s chin. “We need you well rested, Jade. We’ll have the others check on you every once in a while.”
He forced himself to breathe slowly and carefully, his eyes screwed shut and thoughts in a whirlwind. His memories scrambling and confusing, he tries to remember the train station, the lake that was on RSA’s sloping hills and the falling meteorite.
Had there been a meteor shower? There was no news of it, no indication.
A hand caressed his head, shushing his sounds to silence.
“Sleep, Jade.”
The next day, Jade spent all his time in the library with books about stars and meteors and sleep being the furthest thing from his mind. He poured through the articles about meteor showers, checking online news sites, and pouring through scientific documents.
Nothing.
No recent reports of a meteor shower anywhere near the area of RSA or NRC.
A frustrated sigh left Jade’s lips and he held his head with a huff, burying his fingers into his hair when a fluffy tail rubbed and pawed against his arm. “Good to see you’re up and about, Mr Leech.” Trein stood over him as Lucius stepped over the articles to sit on one of the books.
“I didn’t know you were taking a liking to astronomy.” The professor commented, taking an article and reading through it. “Meteor showers, eh? I haven’t seen those for some time. The last one was beautiful but also very tragic.”
“What do you mean, professor?” Jade stared up at his teacher, slightly surprised.
“You weren’t in NRC at the time this happened but there was a meteor shower that passed by Twisted Wonderland, it was a festive time...But that soon became a tragedy when a fragment broke off from one of the passing meteorites.” He sighed, closing his eyes and setting the paper down. “Though NRC and RSA have been rivals for a long time, I can’t bear to think such a catastrophic event would happen to them.”
His heart skipped a beat, eyes wide in surprise. “You mean to say...”
“A meteorite fragment fell on RSA three years ago, specifically on the field just outside the school where some students were watching the shower. Those poor children...”
The white crystal of his magical pen glowed bright and Jade pushed himself off his chair, figure hunched forward and head hung low. Lucius let out a meow as he scrambled away from the student. “Mr Leech, what are you doing?” Trein demanded but his voice fell on deaf ears, Jade remembers his last dream, the last time he switched bodies. He remembers the falling meteorite, the scream that wasn’t his own, he remembers them.
His pen pal.
In a burst of magic, Jade disappeared from his position leaving a scared Lucius and a confused and upset Mozus Trein.
The landscape around him was heavy, the crater left by the meteorite was massive and no traces of life were seen within the impact zone. The memory of the meteorite fragment falling right on top of his pen pal, killing them instantly played again and again in his head. Jade, normally so aloof and calm, fell to his knees.
They died.
They died where he stood.
For the first time in a long while, Jade screamed his heart out. A wail of agony loud enough to echo through the empty void that was essentially his pen pal resting place. He sunk to his knees and continued crying until his throat became hoarse and painful.
He laid on his side as the sun went down, the braided tie peeked out of his blazer.
“Please remember me—!”
The train station...Was that a dream too? What had he been doing when he was in there? What was he there for?
Who was calling out his name.
“Jade...?”
The sun set over him, the sky turning orange and violet. It was twilight hour.
“Jade..”
“Jade.”
There was a touch to his shoulder and a soft shake. His head turned, his eyes widened. A student from RSA stood over him. They smelled of white lilies, uniform a mix of white and yellow, and their magical crystal a pen nib brooch. There was a familiar gleam in their eyes, a smile he came to know from the many days they had switched bodies.
His pen pal smiled at him, offering their hand for him to take. “It’s really you, Jade. It’s actually you.”
They laughed, pulling Jade into a hug; his tall figure dwarfing them easily as they hugged his chest. Jade sighed, returning the hug soon after and rocking each other back and forth for a few moments the sun shined in the horizon.
“I thought I lost you, y’know?” They said, looking up at him. “I just...I suddenly couldn’t reach you.”
“I thought you had died. I saw the meteor fall on you.”
They looked at each other for a moment and a laugh was shared, their foreheads linked together soon after. “I know but...somehow, maybe...I don’t really know what happened to me. I just couldn’t reach you to tell you what happened on that day. I nearly forgot about you and I cried for days wondering why.”
Pulling away, they looked down to Jade’s wrist. “Hey, that bracelet...”
“You gave it to me in the train station.”
It was all coming back to him now. This person, his pen pal, was someone he held dear for a long time.
He felt comfort.
“Oh yeah! I did, didn’t I?”
“Do you want it back?”
“No. Keep it.”
The two held hands for some time but were immediately thwarted by them pulling out a marker. “Hey, why don’t we write our names? That way, if we ever forget each other there’ll always be a reminder. Ah, but I don’t have any paper with me...”
Jade offered his palm, his smile teasing and knowing. “You always liked writing on my skin.”
They shared another laugh and the marker’s cap was pulled off, Jade looking over the horizon as they wrote their name on his palm. “Your turn.”
He took the pen from them and as soon as he wrote the starting strokes of his name, the marker fell from his grasp.
The twilight hour had ended and the moon took over the sky.
“Eh...? What am I...doing...?”
Jade was found by his peers not long after, taking him in and letting him rest as they descended the crater near RSA. Mozus Trein was their chaperone, explaining to the staff of the rival school and covering his own students.
“Someone he knew died here,” He explained, looking at Jade being covered with a blanket by his brother. Jade’s eyes were closed and he leaned against him, clearly exhausted from the ordeal and exposure to the elements.
“I’m very sorry to hear that, professor.” Said one RSA’s employees, brows upturned and frowning deep. “The meteorite crash was a very tragic event for all schools. I can’t imagine how much grief that young boy has gone through knowing that a friend of his died that day.”
“I hope you can look the other way on this. I know we shouldn’t come into each other’s premises without proper—“
“It’s quite alright. I’ll explain the situation to the headmaster once everything has settled.”
Floyd pulled his brother to his chest and stood up, Azul placing a hand on his back.
“Let’s go home, Jade.”
Jade wasn’t alone that night, Floyd and Azul wouldn’t allow him to be alone. They slept next to him, keeping him company but while the two slept, he couldn’t. The moon shone against his window and gave his room a very soft blue glow. He raised his hand to his face, the message from someone he held dear was still visible but slightly smudged.
“Thank you.”
Bitterness rose in his chest and to his throat, his brows furrowed in frustration. The tears forming stung his eyes.
“You idiot,” he brought his palm to his face, sniffling. “I can’t remember you this way.”
A year had passed and the dreams stopped coming after that night. Jade had picked up the habit of sitting outside during twilight hour, watching the set and holding the bracelet that never left his wrist for more than a second. He wore it everywhere he went but when asked; he never had a proper reason for it.
“I feel complete wearing it.”
The yearly magical shift festival brought troves of customers and onlookers, Jade and his brother sat on a bench and let their legs rest after a long day. “I’m gonna go get something to eat. You want anything?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll buy some myself.”
“’Kay.”
Jade was left alone after that and he closed his eyes for a moment, his nose taking in the different smells of food and perfumes.
There was a familiar smell of white lilies.
“Excuse me.”
A person stood in front of him, holding a brochure. They were a uniform of white and yellow and a pen nib brooch. They smiled at him and familiar warmth bloomed in his chest. “I don’t mean to disturb you or anything.”
Their smile was sheepish but it felt as if he’d seen it somewhere before.
“Do we know each other by any chance?”
“I think so.” Jade’s smile was easy and suddenly their eyes began to water. “I had a feeling we did.”
“Hey,” Jade reached over and intertwined their hands, the bracelet’s colors were vibrant against his skin and theirs.
“May I…”
“Can I…”
“...Know your name?”
#works from the typewriter#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#jade leech x reader#jade leech#twst jade leech#twst jade x reader#angst#jade ficlets#this took me so long to write oml#twst#twst x reader#gender neutral reader#gn reader
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Nightmares and Angels
Requested by anonymous
Summary: The littlest Winchester has been experiencing hallucinations and nightmares of her brothers covered in blood. Can a certain whiskey eyed angel come to the rescue?
Words: 2,123
Warnings: Blood, Hallucinations, Nightmares. Reader has PTSD. Possible misrepresentation of mental illness. (I personally don’t have many experiences with PTSD or hallucinations so take everything here with a grain of salt.)
It was late. And you found yourself milling around the bunker. Again. Trying to find anything to occupy your time with in order to avoid going back to your room. You were positive that if you went to bed you’d have nightmares. You’d been having them a lot recently. Along with some other... issues that you’d yet to address. Today had been especially difficult for you in that regard. Your older brother Dean had been in the kitchen making dinner when you had another one of your ‘attacks’ as you called them.
“You want bacon on your burger?” Dean turned away from the veggies he’d been chopping to face you. You were seated at the kitchen table, nose buried in a book and just enjoying your brother's company when he had asked. Being caught off guard by the question, you let out a little ‘huh?’ “The burger.” Dean repeated. “You want bacon on it or- Ah shit!” He exclaimed suddenly. You stood from your chair to check on your brother when you saw it. A steady trail of red streamed from his thumb onto the cutting board. Apparently Dean had nicked his finger while he was distracted. You froze in place. Images flashed rapidly before you as Dean grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding. You watched in horror as the blood seeped through the towel. Slowly, it continued to spread until it was running as a steady steam down his arm pooling around his shoes. You took an unsteady step back, priming yourself to run out the door when a pair of fingers snapped in front of you. Dean was staring at you with concern. Hand wrapped in a towel completely devoid of blood. “I said can you get me a bandaid?” Dean asked. Watching you curiously as you stood there. Shaking off your latest trance, you gave Dean a sharp nod before turning to locate your first aid kit.
It wasn’t always like this. Some days were just worse than others. You had gotten so accustomed to seeing your brothers steeped in blood that you had started to see it even when it wasn’t there. Your brothers didn’t know about this. No one did. And you intended to keep it that way. They always looked as though they had the weight of the world on their shoulders and you couldn't bear to stress them out more with your personal problems. You sighed as you wandered into the kitchen. It was empty now. Your brothers had gone to bed hours ago, meaning you could roam around freely without your brothers worrying about why you were up so late. Knowing you’d be awake for a while longer, you decided to brew some coffee. You were pouring yourself a steaming cup of coffee when you heard wings flap behind you.
“Is that for me? Oh sweetheart, you shouldn’t have.” Gabriel speaks in your ear as his arms wrap around you to pull the cup out of your hand. You roll your eyes as you turn to face him. You cross your arms as you stare at the angel who has been your best friend since he’d been ‘brought back to life’. A smug smirk graced his lips as he kept your beverage from you.
“Gabe, that drink does not have nearly enough sugar for it to be for you.” You sass him as you reach out to take your cup back, but he continues to withhold it from you.
“I’ll tell you what, you give me a little sugar right now and you’ll get this drink back.” You cross your arms and groan in annoyance as the mischievous angel taps a finger to his cheek. “Come on hon, one little kiss and I’ll stop buggin’ ya. Besides, I’ve been gone for weeks! Don’t you wanna welcome me home?” It is true that he had been gone for quite a while. He and Cas had been working overtime in heaven trying to keep the lights on. Uncrossing your arms, you sigh in mock defeat as you step closer to give your favorite angel a kiss on the cheek. He lets out a dramatic gasp as you give him a quick peck. You turn your face slightly to hide the blush spreading on your cheeks. If Gabriel notices your sudden bashfulness, he doesn’t say anything.
“You only get a kiss because I did miss you.” You mutter quietly. Gabe gives you a soft, genuine smile. “Now can I have my drink back?” You raise your arms and make little grabby motions with your hands as you wait for Gabe to give your drink back.
“Hell no!” He basically shouts, showing no concern for the other sleeping tenants of the bunker. He swiftly raises his right hand and snaps the coffee out of existence. Your arms fall to your sides as you regard your friend with a look of betrayal. You open your mouth to whine at him before being quickly cut off. “You have any idea what time it is, sugar? You don’t need coffee. You need sleep.”
“You promised you’d give it back.” You said, giving Gabriel your best pout. Maybe your patented Winchester puppy dog eyes would distract the angel from the lateness of the hour.
“Honey.” Gabriel’s voice was suddenly lacking that playful tone from before. “I know you and the rest of the mystery gang are used to burning the midnight oil, but you need to take care of yourself. Are you guys even on a case right now?”
“No.” You muttered quietly. “But!”
“But nothin’ sweetheart. You gotta go to bed. Unless there's something you’re not telling me?” Gabriel had suspected that something had been up with you for a while, but damn if you weren’t a tough cookie to crack. You just huffed out a little sigh before saying goodnight to Gabriel and heading to your room. You were certainly not interested in explaining your lack of sleep to Gabe. You figured that you could probably get away with loading up Netflix on your laptop and staying up a bit longer, but Gabe was right. You desperately needed sleep. Chuck knows you’d been lacking it for the past couple weeks. You resign yourself to your fate as you get ready for bed. Maybe with Gabe in the bunker, the dreams won’t be so bad you think to yourself as your eyes slide closed.
-
Sam was suddenly woken to the sound of your screams. His bedroom being situated directly across from yours gave him the benefit of being the first one to hear your destress. In less than a second, your brother sprung up from his bed, blankets violently tossed to the side as he rushed toward your room. Once he was in the hall, he shouted once for Dean, but didn’t linger to wait for him. Instead, Sam burst into your room, shotgun in hand. Expecting some sort of intruder, Sam was caught off guard when all he found was you screaming and writhing blindly on your mattress.
“Y/N!” Sam shouted your name as he rushed to your side. Jostling your shoulder in order to wake you, your brother watched in horror as your eyes opened suddenly, falling upon his face. Instead of his presence soothing you as he thought it would, you instead jerked away from his touch and let out a scream of what he could only describe as haunting despair. From your perspective, you weren’t seeing your sweet brother Sammy as you normally would. Instead, you watched as your brother’s face was covered in blood and contorted in anguish. Desperate to get away from this haunting image, you pulled away from his grasp and pinned yourself to the headboard of the bed. As far away from your concerned brother as possible. Vaguely you recognized that he was speaking to you, but you couldn’t pull away from your panic long enough to hear him. All you could do was stare at the blood pouring down his face, repeatedly jerking away from him each time he tried to touch you or otherwise get near you. A few moments later, you were curled into a ball on your bed when the door swung open once more. It was Dean. He stood there staring at you with a worried expression similar to Sam’s, apparently having heard the ruckus you’d made. But you couldn’t focus on that. All you could see was the copious amounts of blood dripping from what appeared to be a stab wound right where his heart was. Just like when Sam approached, you jerked away from Dean when he got near you. You were unable to do anything in this moment other than tremble and sob at the horrific images of your bloodied brothers before you. You truly tried to calm yourself, but nothing seemed to soothe you. And the presence of your brothers were just making your stress worse. You couldn’t get the picture of your blood soaked brothers out of your head. Subconsciously, you desperately cried out to the only being you thought might be able to save you. You didn’t even register the new presence in your room until you felt the bed dip. Your head jerked up, frantically searching for the new intruder when you saw Gabe. He wasn’t covered in blood or half dead. He was just your Gabriel. You let out a little cry of relief when you saw him. Instantly moving to crawl into his lap for comfort.
“Hey hon, what’s going on?” You hear him whisper as he wraps his arms around you. From your spot in his lap, you couldn’t see the confusion and worry on his face as he tried to figure out what was happening.
“I can’t- I can’t make them stop!” Your voice sounds pathetic to you as you speak frantically. Gabe runs his hand through his hair, not entirely sure what to do.
“What’re you talking about? What won’t stop?” His hand falls to your head and he lets his fingers card through your hair as you whimper into his chest.
“The hallucinations! I can’t make them go away.” With your head buried in his chest, you don’t see the grim look Gabriel sends your brothers. Your brothers turn to share a look as if to say ‘Did you know about this?’
“What’re you seeing?” He turns his attention back to you. He kept his voice gentle as he spoke to you, not wanting to spook you more than you already are.
“Sam and Dean. Covered in blood. Oh God make it stop.” The trickster was positive he felt his heart break when you said this. He knew you’d been having some sort of problem that you weren’t sharing with him, but he never imagined it was anything this severe. And according to the shocked looks on your brother’s faces, they hadn’t known either. He sucks in a breath and steadies himself, wanting to be confident for you.
“Look again.” He speaks calmly. And you pull away to look him in the eyes for the first time since he arrived. You let out a little ‘what?’ He’s patient as he speaks to you. “Look at your brothers again. It’ll be okay. I promise.” Hesitantly you do as he says. You turn your head to look at Sam and Dean as they stand helplessly in the corner of your room. Clearly unsure how to help you. To your shock, they looked completely normal. A little ruffled from getting out of bed so suddenly, but they didn’t have a speck of blood on them.
“Ho-how?” You can’t wrap your head around the sudden change.
“A little angel magic. As long as I’m here, you won’t have to worry about those pesky images.” You let out a little sob as you hugged him with renewed vigor. Gabe cuddled into bed with you and when you seemed calm enough, your brothers left the two of you alone. Dean was grumbling a bit about leaving his little sister alone with the trickster but Sam just shoved him out of the room. You were sure that they were going to have a long talk with you tomorrow, but for now they seemed content to just let you relax.
“Gabriel?” He let out a distracted ‘hmm?’ as his fingers continued to comb through your hair.
“Stay with me tonight?” You spoke so quietly that if Gabe hadn’t been an angel, he wasn’t sure he would’ve heard you.
“Anything for you, sweets.” The two of you made your way under the covers. You laid your head on Gabriel’s chest and slowly allowed yourself to succumb to sleep. Knowing that for the first time in months, you would be getting a peaceful sleep.
#spn#spn gabriel#gabriel#gabriel x reader#gabriel imagine#spn gabriel x reader#supernatural#supernatural fic#supernatural reader insert#reader insert#fanfic
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Talking to the Moon (Billy Hargrove)
Another songfic. This one is based on "Talking to the Moon" by Bruno Mars
Word count: 2049 words
Warnings: a swear word I think?, mentions of death, description of death, this is basically fueled by angst, sad, mental illness I guess (I think that's it), allusions to sex
I may or may not have made myself cry while writing this
"I know you're somewhere out there" you whispered as you were seated in your driveway, leaning against a car, long abandoned. His car.
Denial. That's what one could call your situation. Struck with grief and pain, yet still not recognizing it.
"Somewhere far away, but that's okay I'll find you or maybe you'll find me." A sad smile traced your lips as your eyes began to water. You gazed at the starry night sky, the moon, shining as bright as ever, illuminating your frame.
You couldn't accept it. And why would you? Just to have your world shutter to pieces before your feet? No thanks!
"I want you back,"
It never happened. Not as long as you refused to believe it. It just had to be some cruel joke. IT HAD TO BE!
Slowly flashes of memories invaded your thoughts and unfolded before your eyes. The way he sacrificed himself in order to save all of you. The way he was impaled from all directions by the beast and how his blood soaked the white tank top he had been wearing that evening. The way his limp body dropped to the floor. How he just laid there unconscious in a puddle of of his own blood. How they had to drag you and Max away from his body, but you wouldn't budge. "No Billy! BILLY! Come on! D-don't do this to me! You can't just leave me here like that!" In that moment you either wanted him to wake up or to just lie down and leave this place with him, but you couldn't do that to your family and friends. And to think that fateful day was your anniversary as well. You quickly pushed your thoughts and trauma to the back of your mind.
"I want you back Billy, please just come back home." Slowly the silent tears started escaping your eyes.
A hand pat your shoulder causing your features to flash with hope. Yet, it wasn't him. "Come on you gotta go back inside" It was just your little brother. The hopeful glimmer in your eyes vanished as you slowly got up. "I know... I know" You muttered and when you had made it to the front door you glanced at the old car again, wiping at your face to dry the tears.
"(Y/n) do you wanna watch a movie or maybe meet up with the gang? They miss you." Your face contorted to one of agony and you flinched at the mention of the kids and some of your friends. However, you quickly tried to mask it up and flashed your brother a smile "Sorry Dustin, those are your friends I'm just your babysitter. Have fun though." You ruffled his hair and just like that you left your little brother standing in the hallway as you made a beeline for your bedroom.
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My neighbors think I'm crazy. But they don't understand
Whenever you left the house you got weird or pitiful looks thrown in your direction. It was no wonder you stopped leaving the house. And quite honestly, you were beginning to feel better. You felt better, not because you finally accepted the decision fate had made, but rather because you started to drift off. Reminiscing about the good times and creating your own little world in your head where everything was just fine. Or maybe you were just feeling numb by now...
"You're all I had, you're all I had and you're all I'd ever need" you mumbled to yourself and to the night sky.
At night, when the stars light up my room. I sit by myself. Talking to the moon
You often sat on your windowsill as you told him all that happened on each day. Sometimes you'd rant about your job. Other times you'd ask him questions and beg him to come back to you.
Trying to get to you. In hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too
Could he even hear you? See you? Know you were trying to contact him somehow? If the upside down was real, then so was the chance he might be out there somewhere, right? It was a desparate last glimmer of hope you had left.
"Or am I a fool, who sits alone, talking to the moon? Maybe I am..."
Oh
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I'm feeling like I'm famous, the talk of the town.
Of course you noticed the people watching you and talking about you behind your back. They say I've gone mad. Apparently they had nothing better to do than talk about you.
Yeah, I've gone mad. But they don't know what I know
One night when you were rambling into the night you heard his voice.
'Cause when the sun goes down, someone's talking back.
It was faint at first, but it got louder and steadier and sounded more like him.
Yeah, they're talking back, oh. At night, when the stars light up my room
And that was when hope returned to you. You left your room less and less, your family and friends growing more worried with each passing day. They barely got to see you.
I sit by myself. Talking to the moon
You didn't even notice how you neglected your needs.
Trying to get to you
You were too busy talking to him. Too busy to eat or sleep. To anxious that he'd be gone again if you left for too long.
In hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too
Your family was at their wits end. They didn't know how they could help you. But you didn't think you needed help. You had Billy and that was all that mattered to you.
Or am I a fool, who sits alone, talking to the moon?
Slowly your brain had repressed the trauma, leaving it on the threshold between consciousness and unconsciousness. The images of the distressing and traumatizing memories only appearing in your sleep. In your nightmare plagued sleep.
Do you ever hear me calling?
(Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah) Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh. 'Cause every night, I'm talking to the moon
They were just nightmares, nothing more. After all he was here. What did you need sleep for when you could be awake and talk to Billy
Still trying to get to you
You had gotten lost in your own fantasy. A different reality where your boyfriend was still alive. Where he was still his usual cocky, jealous overprotective, but loving self, the one you fell in love with.
In hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too
Today was your anniversary. You dressed up nicely and left your room for the first time in forever. Describing your family as shocked when you left your room, went to grab a shopping basket and put on your shoes was an understatement. You flashed a bright smile at them when you saw them. "(Y/n)? What's got you in such a good mood? Are you going out?" Your mother was a little worried about your sudden change in demeanor, but quickly pushed those doubts aside. She was delighted at how happy you seemed. She didn't want to see in what bad shape you were, didn't want to notice how weird that smile looked on your exhausted posture or how that smile didn't actually reach your glassed over, dull (e/c) eyes. Eyes that shone bright with love, hope and life once. She didn't want to realize that you were just a shell of yourself.
What she did notice though, was the effort you put into looking nice today and that you actually wanted to leave your room and even the house.
"Yes mum, of course I'm in a good mood!" you exclaimed, you almost seemed like you were in some kind of trance. "It's our anniversary today. I'll go buy a few things to surprise Billy with his favourite dish for when he comes over later" and just like that you were out the door. Leaving your mother with confusion and worry written all over her face. Dustin had noticed the whole ordeal, however he did not choose to blatantly ignore your change in behaviour. "I have an idea, I know someone who might be able to help." Just like that your brother had left through the front door, sprinting to his friend's home.
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Or am I a fool, who sits alone,
You had spent your afternoon cooking and baking for your boyfriend. You prepared everything, now all you had to do was wait for him.
talking to the moon?
Oh
A grin made itself prominent on your face as you thought about your favourite anniversary, the one three years ago. The weather was nice and Billy took you to the fun fair that just happened to be in town. He kept you close to him and would've punched anyone who laid their eyes on you for too long if you hadn't stopped him. "Don't worry, I'm only yours Hargrove" you beamed at him with delight in your eyes as you pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. After that he won you a stuffed animal and you got some cotton candy together.
"I love you, you know that right? I'll stay by your side forever you'll see. And I'll never leave you, like my asshole of a father left my mum, I promise. The two of us, we'll stay together for eternity" The blonde told you that evening when you were in bed, snuggled up cozily together after he had shown you just how much he loved you in every possible way. You moved your head which was resting on his naked chest slightly so you could properly look at him. His eyes held so much love, passion, adoration and tenderness for you in them and you knew yours did too "Forever huh?" you grinned as he brushed a strand of hair out of your face. You could feel his fingers trace patterns on your back and arms as his strong arms pulled you impossibly closer to his body, the scent of his cologne engulfing you. "You better keep that promise then because I love you too." A cocky smirk appeared on his face and there was a short pause, a comfortable silence, as you pondered "Billy?" The boy hummed in response, his fingers still caressing your soft skin. "Can you promise to show me the beaches in Cali someday as well?" You felt your boyfriends chest vibrating as he chuckled softly "I think that I can manage (Y/n)" That's how you drifted off to sleep that night.
"(Y/n)..." a soft voice cautiously brought you back to your reality. "It's been three years." Your eyes were wide as you found yourself face to face with Maxine Mayfield, Billy's half-sister. He always acted like he hated it when someone called them siblings, when in reality he didn't mind at all. He loved his sister, he just had a special way of showing it. "What are you doing here? And what are you even talking about?" A smile was on your face. "As much as I love our silly little talks Max, I must advice you leave. Billy will come home any minute now and you know how he can get when he has plans and you appear out of nowhere." a giggle left your throat. As you spoke your eyes started swimming with tears. Why? You didn't know.
"(Y/n) listen to me. Billy died three years ago today, he's not gonna come to your anniversary. You just made up that he's still here with you because you couldn't handle his death. Not with how brutal it was." Tears were now pouring from your eyes as you shook your head. Realization dawning on you. "No...that-that's not true" you said, your voice cracking halfway. "Three-three years ago he took me to the funfair and-" you stopped mid sentence as the images from your nightmares unraveled before you. Max pulled you into her embrace and you hugged her back immediately, your whole body racking with sobs. The redhead also shed a few tears, not only because of her dead brother but also because of the state you were in. "I know, I know..." she soothed you
I know you're somewhere out there.
Somewhere far away...
#stranger things#billy hargrove imagine#stranger things imagine#billy hargrove#billy#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove x y/n#dacre montgomery#talking to the moon#bruno mars#stranger things billy#x reader#reader insert#sad#angst#songfic#song fic#song imagines#soulmate
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THE WALTEN FILES: my jumbled notes on my blind run-in with this web series
first off this is gonna be long and unorganized, also this is my second time writing this as i had lost literally half of my progress and im This (imagine two fingers almost touching with a 0.0000000001mm distance between them) close to ripping all of the fucking hair out of my goddamn head. but now this will be extra long and yes, i will lose some accuracy to my first writing but thats okay ill probably edit this a kajillion times over
which brings me to my next tangent; im literally braindumping here. so to have a smidge of organization all afterthoughts, edits and corrections will be boldened, i forgot what im gonna do with italicized text but ill probably bolden it here yeah im pretty sure its for side tangents, separate from Corrections, which are in bold. also theyre for emphasis too.
so in general, this post right here is all of my notes i wrote down on my grid-patterned sticky notes (which i used WAYYYY too much of) about the first 3 uploaded walten files youtube videos transferred onto my handy dandy digital notebook, this b(l)og. yeppers peppers. you know im serious about this shit when i typed probably over like a thousand fucking words including boldened shit, italicized shit and motherfucking links, lost it ALL, and im sitting here re-typing it again.
i feel bad about this but im not gonna trigger warn right here, but this is technically a warning. if you want a list of triggers as to what this post (and the walten files in general) i will link a little list to that here
without further a doo doo, (mama mia) here the fucking fuck we go again.
THE WALTEN FILES - VIDEO #1
clarifying this now, im gonna put some useless shit which i thought was code onto this because even though it was useless it was part of my notes and im physically going to combust if i dont put down every single thing i wrote on my papers. so what i thought was code was in the closed captions, i started writing it down when i got to the second video but came back to my first videos notes to include them. i wrote down the first letter to every word that was capitalized in the closed captions, which i had on as a default because number one i knew going into this id need them because most web horror things like args and cryptic shit like that has some of the most crucial shits in the closed captions. number two i am autistic and have auditory processing issues and have most closed captioning on as a default if theyre available.
firstly jotted, i wrote down the closed captions “code” so im gonna put the rest here too: HYWITB(BSI)Y A(BSI)BJWFKWITW ILHHFSBBSBTLBWI USOISTBNBSFIRBCAWHSHCBWHTAIGRNB*C*BTWLTSFA(20)MCFP ILITIIACPH(1978, 1979)SA(4)YTSCH*C*OGSSU SFTGRPATDBBUTFBNLLCHMIHLBRALLCLAYTUKB*LC*WHATWASTHATTHING
the numbers in parenthesis are there because i wasnt sure they should be included in the “code” or not. i also thought of this with the BSI - bunny smiles incorporated and also the years 1978 and 1979. the shits in asterisks are coughs and light coughs, which were capitalized in the closed captions so i included them too just in case
i then jotted, in parenthesis of course, the names of the animatronics when they were listed in the animation section of the video; bon aka the blue bunny, sha aka the sheep one, boozoo aka the clown<3 honk<33, and banny aka the purpled eyelashed up one who is also a bunny btw. also i got boozoo the clown and boozoo the mustache guy confused because apparently the clowns name is billy???? but they named “boozoo” in bons sleepover and showed the clown? idk maybe im an idiot and theyre the same or just an idiot and theyre different or a super mega (matt and ryan?!?!??) idiot in general which is probably the case
i started drawing little stars to write down things i thought would be super important or to 100% look at again. the first subject of this pointy torture was the part of the video where at 3:00, i marked it down to make sure to reverse the audio as it was most definitely a weird audio that has that signature warp-y effect that makes sure you KNOW its in reverse. i then listened back to it Very carefully (still got it wrong) and got this: “you finally start to remember. that old doll. they will look out for you soon” im also pretty sure i heard “sophie” at the end of that audio but im not entirely sure and dont remember and i dont wanna go back to check lmfao but anyways it didnt matter because i was wrong anyway. after i had finished all 3 walten files i watched the film theory video on the walten files (which didnt cover all 3 but was dece.) out of curiosity and to hear matpats signature silly little voice explain some stuff i already knew, and click some shit in my brain that i couldve thought up of if i was a bit more... i dont know honestly. anyways yeah so the actual audio is “you finally start to remember. that old day. they will look out for you soon.” so yeah. day, not doll.
i then wrote down “sarah evelyn”, the name on the bons sleepover animation (i dont remember if she created it or animated it or whatnot) and scribbled will she matter? under her name. turns out no, as i didnt see her name in the rest of the series, let alone the first video. this is also a great time to mention how matpat theory helped me realize that the walten files are collections of videos, uploaded onto youtube by anthony. (i already knew about anthony as he signed his name in the descriptions of the youtube videos, making me categorize this overall web series more into an arg type genre.) but yes, the tapes, recorded “irl” footage, animated clips, vhs tape recordings and other audio-visual content is all collected and labeled the walten files, as i had mistaken each video to be a tape. stupid me. alrighty, onward!
i starred this one, good for me; MISSING: Jack Walten LAST SEEN: 06/11/1974
i jotted down with an arrow that; sophie was a nightguard? she was wearing the uniform explained in tape 2 i dont know why but i went back into my video 1 notes after i had watched video 2. organization purposes. i guess.??
i then paused the video when the screen flickered a date, the beginning of video footage dated 10/10/1982 (Brian Stells?) god my little genius ass assuming the videographer was brian stells, based on the id card i saw earlier.
i then wrote down what text i saw on the dead, mangled, bloody body in the purple security suit; “i cant feel anything” “he thought i was her” then drew a little arrow pointing to; thought brian was sophie? or ashley? i also starred the name Brian Stells this is totally out of order LMFAOOOOOOOO also i wrote down ashley because, again, my little pea brain went back on my video 1 notes after watching video 2. but yep thats all i wrote for The Walten Files 1 - Company Introductory Tape
THE WALTEN FILES - VIDEO #2
Tape #1 - created 07/02/1978
awesome how thats first and foremost in the captions. god. so sexy of you martin walls. /j /nsx
this pack of notes is chunkier because again, like i have mentioned before i am an absolute goober and thought the capitalized letters of the words would actually mean something. I MEAN MAYBE THEY DO AND IM JUST DOING IT WRONG but i stopped doing it after this video because holy shit it was exhausting and my stupid little fingers couldnt take the writing anymore becasue i am WEAK.
so write off the bat (squeak) i wrote down 197[] the blacked out rectangle over the last digit of that year and everything im also now assuming its probably 1978 or 1974 because lore reasons but whos to say but yeah i also wrote down this;
Tape #2 - created 08/13/1978
then, straight up in the beginning of the video i caught it, the flash of text, as i had by now realized i gotta be SUPER stupid focused on the screen in case i miss anything, i wanted to be crazy precise on my theorizing and mental notes, among other things. but yes i saw it, the first half of a youtube link;
“https://youtu”
claps hands together and rubs them evilly. oh yeah baby. thats the hot lunch. this shit right here? the cats pajamas. lets fucking go.
i wrote down this goofy shit i pasued to inspect when i saw bon sorting through a file cabinet and naturally scribbled down the labels and other written things i could see on the files;
relocate X/X/75 felix
storage K-9 07/23/1975 felix k(ranken)
Bons Burgers 06/28/1974 Jack Walten
Shipping Service 1975
New Location -> 1982
i also wrote down more goofy shit, like when banny was created for some reason; in 1974
starred, i noted to go back and reverse the audio at 5:09, when played back, i didnt write it down so i dont remember. lmao.
i also marked to screenshot and brighten the darkened image i saw at 5:20, i was going to do it on my phone then realized i can just do it on my computer so i quickly took a screenshot, brightened it and wrote down what i saw; a missing person poster that read MISSING: SUSAN WOODINGS(?) Last seen: 1974 i was very unsure of the spelling of her last name because the image was so goddamn low quality and grainy but its what i saw. this is where tape #3 gets thrown in, which im gonna type again because i like how the formatting looks;
Tape #3 - created 07/09/1978 (BEFORE tape 2?!//1/1??? its more likely than you think)
i wrote down more dates, any dates i saw, i jotted down. i wrote;
Technical Support 1978
then,
Brian Stells (for some reason i dont remember right now)
alrighty this is where the stupid capitalized letters come in, but before it looks like i vomit a keysmash time infinity on this, ill put down the little inbetween things i wrote in the midst of the caps lockalypse like timestamps and stuff, so here you go;
- Reverse at 8:16 which i did but of course didnt write down what i heard. i think it was too warbled to hear anything clear out of it, or it was just the good ol auditory processing issues fucking me over yet again. WAIT yep yes i did here it is: “rosemary would go to the restaurant every night hoping that [her] beloved husband would reappear after being missing for weeks but no response until one day [s]he heard a voice [saying] ‘i know where he is rosie’ coming from the back stage” the bracketed stuff is the corrections, i misheard the audio and thought the audio said “his”, “he” and “singing” like a nimrod
- Brighten at 10:14 which was another missing person poster, but i dont think it had any information on it because i didnt write it down, just;
- Sophie again (pic at 9:08?) (dismemberd and put in Sha) i was stupid and wrong haha idiot it was rosemary who was put in sha but anywho
i starred and underlined a huge thing i discovered which was;
- Walten had 3 kids which i dont remember how i found out but it doesnt matter, its good important info i uncovered.
- Tape #4 - Unkown Date
- recorded 07/12-07/14 1978
- Hilary B, Ashley P & Kevin W i made sure to get these names down as soon as i saw them on screen but then realized shortly after i wouldnt really need to have it as the closed captions made sure i knew which person was talking by using their first initial (capitalized of course) before each line of text. this is the perfect time to announce the arrival of the clusterfuck of capital letters, which is going to include colons which will indicate that the letter before it is the initial of the person talking. without further aedue, here comes another chinese earthquake;
TCWTSTATO(K-9)TBSSFWFCNEHAWBSUBIUC(BSIIDC)OWHISF INBIJTILNSPL(K-9)LCSCKCCCWTTLTLITTTYROTFAJAMHPYYSTCSPMBBWSBIB H:NTPPCCK:DA:HH:YCPRPMWTCBCRAWK:JH:SYYTCPBACPSTBAWCA:TK(?):FMTTCMK:TCPNOA:DTOFK:ITNPPRA:YBUTIRRFH:HKIBESRAIA:TCK:WA:WPCCFTRRIDPEH:GGK:GPA:LKK:WA:HNCGTKMK:YH:IGKA:ESK:MFH:RK:HILRLBNTRPPUWHITRRTPEIFEPH:YWBEBPK:MAHPBTRPTRPEL(LN)HTACPKLIKHPFITSKLTKLB(LB?)ISIBSUBIPRW AEBATHSPUAICTPURTWBBRPHTRTIIIILTCITCUCCP S(bpe, be)WA”IDCPBPSIB
holy shit its finally over okay now onto some MORE of what i wrote down in between and also after that keysmash attack;
12 doors? (backrooms) 27? 26? i was unsure because ashley was unsure too lmfao
found cassette (6/11/78) <- says “discard”? yeah it did
Tape in clown audio, speaking voice; jack, susan, charles(?), rosemary, sophie, last word sounds like “walrus” it was walten lmfao
Ashley died? yeah she did lmfao OR AT LEAST I THINK SO??
starred this one, Reverse @ 17:06, then got this;
“they left the next day, they thought ashley left early, but she was in the backdoors, screaming as much as she could, but no one heard the screams, the following days the caretakers would complain about an awful smell coming from the backdoors, company decided to shut down facility until new advice, the relocate project was unsuccessful. ashley is still there, but she is not screaming anymore, she saw something she wasnt supposed to see and now shes beautiful” the phrase “shes beautiful” was repeating like a bajillion times in that wall of text. then, god motherfuckng bless:
at 17:23 i found the other half of the youtube link, “.be/k07QqEDOfQ” i pieced that bad boy together as instant as i think any form of ramen could never be, but remained ever patient. because i made sure to jot down this before moving onto my next segment;
@ end of vid 2, “shadow man sees* me when lights go off” im an idiot *it was actually “feeds” not “sees”, which AGAIN, i only found out after watching the stupid little film theory video *begins snarling and foaming at the mouth*
okay im not proud to admit im editing this to post it and realized ive lost my notes. well.
might as well post what ive got! if i find my shit ill add onto this, i suppose.
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Red Lines, Blue Hearts
hi friends! remember how i keep saying i’m going to write something, and then i do anything but? today’s “anything but” is brought to you by this epic and emotionally laboring art by matt (@accesscodex), as well as his chaos!fitzroy au which injures my soul. i don’t feel like putting this on ao3 but!! my ao3 is always available if you would like to see my other graduation crimes.
reblogs > likes and i hope y’all enjoy!!!
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The first thing Fitzroy sees when his body is released from Chaos’ grasp is red.
Pinkish-red scars litter nearly every inch of his body, permanent reminders of the power he let consume him. Some follow the pathway of his veins, like the ones on his legs. Others are large patches that once revealed the pearlescent skin Chaos manifested underneath, like on his face and back. There are a few that look to be a result from fighting, puncture marks or slashes in odd spots across every plane of skin. Along with the dull pain that persists for weeks after, they leave Fitzroy feeling mangled and ugly. Like a porcelain doll shattered by a rowdy child, glued back together but never looking quite the way it once did.
His friends have done a good job keeping his mind off the changes. Rainer comes over every week to repaint his nails and catch him up on what’s happening outside the safety of his room. She always extends the offer for him to meet at her place, but he always refuses. The wounds of what he did under the control of Chaos are still too fresh, and he’d rather spend months in solitude than force the people around him to relive through any of the destruction he caused.
Buckminster and Leon (now restored to his human form) also visit with new cloaks and waistcoats for Fitzroy to try on; the excuse being they accidentally bought a size too small or large, even when the garments look ill-fitting for the pair at a glance. The brothers will then sit on Fitzroy’s bed and demand a fashion show, Leon politely clapping as Buckminster narrates each outfit with overabundant dramatics. They never ask for anything in return, nor will they accept the gold Fitzroy shoves into their hand each time.
“It’s what friends are for!” Buckminster will say, patting Fitzroy on the back heartily (yet gently, so as to prevent any flare-ups of pain).
Althea Song stopped by once, meekly peeking into Fitzroy’s room with a large bag in hand. He later found out the bag contained a number of hair and skin products for people with sensitivities. They spent the next hour smelling lotion scents and talking self-care. Admittedly, Fitzroy had pretty much stopped both his hair and skin routine after his faculties returned to him; the thought of even staring at himself in the mirror for that long gave him the shivers. So it was nice to have an excuse to start trying to mend the damages done to his body, even if he had to cover his mirror for the time being. At the end of her visit, Althea nervously extended her arms for a hug, which Fitzroy hesitantly allowed. The moment was a little tense, but overall nice. Althea murmured some encouragement that was lost to Fitzroy, who was too in his head to hear.
Althea smelled of maple and charcoal. Just like his mother.
It is a few days after this visit that Fitzroy sees something else, something he lost in all the constant red lines and marks.
Blue roses, delicately painted along the skin of his left wrist. Marred by two lines of red, crossing out the pristine image permanently.
The sight broke Fitzroy’s heart in twain.
The tattoo was, admittedly, a bit of an impulsive decision. After spending nearly every day with the other two Thundermen, the roses on Argo’s right arm became a bit of a focal point for Fitzroy’s dazed stares. There were...quite a few reasons why his gaze always seemed to drift to the genasi, as loathe as Fitzroy was to admit to that, at first. But the roses were different; they were beautiful, matching Argo’s complexion perfectly and complimenting the rest of the art painted up that arm. After a while, the flower became synonymous with Argo. Fitzroy would pass by a rosebush and suddenly images of Argo’s sharp-toothed smile would flash through his head. He would smell rosewater and hear Argo’s boisterous laugh echo through his skull. The two became intertwined--land and sea, beauty and beauty.
So, when Rhodes invited him to New Hope to touch up one of her forearm tattoos, he felt compelled to get the roses. It was only after the deed was done--artist paid, skin wrapped in a tight plastic, and instructions handed to him on how to care for the new ink--that Fitzroy realized how weird this was. Him and Argo weren’t even an item, yet!
Not that they would be, or that Fitzroy even wanted them to, but--
You know what? Never mind.
He couldn’t hide the tattoo forever, at the very least. The topic would have to be breached. Would Argo be offended that Fitzroy copied his tattoo without asking? Would he feel weird that they technically have matching tattoos? Would he...like it? Would he find it sweet or endearing that Fitzroy thought of him so much he wanted a tattoo to match?
After two weeks of hiding it and a week of teasing from Rainer (after she saw it during one of their study sessions), Fitzroy randomly showed it to Argo. He attempted to not be weird about it--simply rolling up his sleeves while he did homework with Argo in their common area--but Argo only noticed after a handful of dramatic coughs and awkward arm movements on Fitzroy’s end. Once he saw it, though, his eyes lit up with delight. He immediately reached out to grab Fitzroy’s wrist, leaning across the table to admire the artistry on his skin. The contact lit a fire in the pit of Fitzroy’s gut; a fire that continued to burn for months after.
A fire that doused in the wake of seeing his roses ruined.
Instinct overrides rational thought as Fitzroy stands up from his bed, maimed wrist planted firmly at his side to hide the truth from his eyes. His legs carry him to Argo’s room, who was in bed studying. Argo’s head shoots up just as Fitzroy’s body leans and collapses into the embrace of the genasi. The tears unconsciously streaming down his face continue to fall as Argo’s arms come to envelop him.
“F-Fitz? What’s goin’ on?” Argo asks, his voice gentle but concerned. Fitzroy hiccups a few sobs, feeling weak and helpless and utterly broken, as he leans back to show Argo his wrist. It takes a second for Argo to pinpoint the problem, but once he does he lets out a soft, “Oh.”
“I-It’s broken,” Fitzroy whimpers, leaning his head onto Argo’s right shoulder. “I-I ruin--ruined i-it!”
“Aw, no, hey,” Argo says, gently carding through Fitzroy’s platinum locks. “This isn’t your fault.” Fitzroy stubbornly shakes his head, face still pressed into Argo’s shoulder.
“Y-Yes it is because I a-allowed them to do this to m-me.” Fitzroy’s voice warbles with his cries. “I-I wanted p-power, and they knew that, and th-they used me to g-get what they wanted because I didn’t stop them. A-And then they hurt you, and Master Firbolg, a-and Rainer, and the school, and the town, a-and nearly the world if--if you hadn't stopped them.” Every point of contact with the rogue is both a soothing salve and a knife to his skin. He burns with the broken, defeated rage of man with nothing. “A-And they’ve broken me, Argo! I--I can never return to normal, I can never be who I o-once was, I-I’m ruined!”
“Hey!” Argo’s voice is stern, yet his touch is gentle as he pulls Fitzroy’s head off his shoulder to look him in the eye. It’s then Fitzroy can see the glimmer of tears in Argo’s eyes, along with the scattered lines of light-blue permanently streaked across his face. He moves the hand holding Fitzroy’s head to gently rub along his wrist, the other still firmly wrapped around his waist. Fitzroy’s mind unhelpfully provides only one thought: He’s beautiful.
“���M not gonna sit here and let ya kick yourself while yer already down, alright?” he continues. “I know this is all really...really hard for you t’handle. You spent--gods, felt like years, but was really only a couple’a months under Chaos’s control. And, yeah, things did get massively fucked because of that. But...But that wasn’t you!”
“I-It was, though--”
“--Will you let me finish?” Argo stares at Fitzroy until he sheepishly nods. “Thank you. What I was sayin’ was that the destruction wasn’t you! It was Chaos--they had most of the control of yer body during that time! And, sure, maybe you did allow them a little access in the beginning because y’wanted power. I-I get that, though! You...You didn’t have the nicest childhood. You’ve been constantly pushed down and made to feel lesser--so have I, if I’ll be honest. It’s a natural reaction to wanna get some power in return, to finally get what’s yours, as the saying goes. B-But you didn’t ask to be hurt like this. You didn’t ask to hurt me! Or anyone else! It just...it just happened. And we gotta just start...tryin’ to move beyond it, I guess. Not really a ‘live and let live’ situation, but more of a… ‘you got hurt and so did I, so let’s just try and move on together’ sorta thing...Y’get what I’m saying to ya, Fitzroy?” He carefully pulls Fitzroy’s wrist up and closer to his face so Fitzroy can see.
“Yer not broken, Fitz. This,” he gently shakes Fitzroy’s arm to emphasize, “isn’t ruined. It’s just...new! A different take on life! A different take on art! But yer still you, Fitzroy, even with all the new. I still...I-I still think you’re gorgeous, if I’m, uh, bein’ honest. You, uh, always have been...to me…” The genasi’s cheeks flush as he breaks eye contact, bashfully looking towards the floor as the words flood Fitzroy’s head. It seems so silly--the smallest, most asinine fact out of Argo’s whole speech--but hearing Argo call him gorgeous makes the burning rage within turn to a melty, gooey, warm mass of fondness.
“I...Thank you, Argo.” Fitzroy mutters, feeling his own blush start to climb up his face. “You, uh, you’ve always been...there for me. H-Helping me. And I, uh...truthfully, I do not know where I’d be if it was not for you and your kindness, and humor, and cunning...ness. And...you’re, uh...I-I think you’re handsome, as well.” The last part he’s barely able to get out of his mouth, but Argo still hears it because he looks back to Fitzroy. The half-elf smiles nervously and shrugs. “I...thought I made that obvious on several occasions, but, uh. I’ve always thought you were handsome.”
Fitzroy and Argo’s relationship has been difficult to understand, to say the least. The two have been dancing intricate circles around the truth of their feelings for so long it feels almost like instinct. Yet, despite their hesitations, the pair have been drawing ever closer in their rotations. Now, in this moment--their bodies pressed close together, their hearts beating in unison--it’s natural what happens next.
Argo smiles, full and big, and leans down to press a kiss to Fitzroy’s wrist. And Fitzroy, lost in the sensation, makes no move to pull away.
They spend the rest of the day in this embrace, sharing few words and even fewer kisses. When the Firbolg finds them later that night, he smiles softly at the two wrapped in each other’s arms and quietly heads to his leaf bed.
And when Fitzroy wakes that next morning, the first thing he sees is blue. Beautiful, beautiful blue.
#taz graduation#maplekeene#taz grad#taz fitzroy#taz argo#sir fitzroy maplecourt#argonaut keene#taz sir fitzroy maplecourt#taz argo keene#ignorance cloud on#chaos!fitzroy au#accesscodex
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This little ficlet doesn’t really have a name. It’s set in the world of The Importance of Ramen and occurs sometime between Chapter One and Two. Not quite angst I don’t think, but not very happy either. Because not everyone gets their happy ending. It was just something I needed to write today. The image below is of Yanaka Cemetery in Tokyo.
“This really cannot continue Higurashi-san”, droned the school Principal’s voice over the phone. “I understand you have concerns about your daughter’s health, but we can no longer accept phone calls and sick notes signed by you for her absences. Unless you start providing medical certificates, signed by a medical professional, we will have to alert the proper authorities. She may even face expulsion over her non-attendance, and we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”
The man’s tone was critical, condescending, his disbelief regarding Kagome’s illnesses barely concealed, and Mama swallowed the sharp retort that wanted to slip past her teeth. Deep breath. She needed to stay calm.
“No, of course not, Yamato-san”, she said, enunciating clearly, her voice dripping with feigned politeness. “Thank you for taking the time to speak to me today. We all have Kagome’s best interests at heart.”
“I hope we will not have to repeat this conversation again, Higurashi-san. Good day.”
Mama placed down the receiver on the phone with a deep sigh. She really couldn’t blame the man for his skepticism though. It had been a mistake on her part to ask ojiichan to provide the excuses for Kagome’s constant absences from school. Varicose veins for a sixteen year old? She had recently taken over, providing much more credible excuses, much to Kagome’s relief. She had to admit though, it was hard to keep up the constant pretense of Kagome’s illness, although she had no problems in playing the role of concerned mother. That wasn’t an act.
She’d bid a cheerful goodbye to Kagome and Inuyasha early this morning after they’d eaten breakfast, waiting for the flash of light that signalled their disappearance down the well to let the fake smile fall from her face.
Every time her daughter left, she had to swallow the panic that rose up, imagining all the gruesome and horrific ways it was possible to die in that time period, even without the addition of battling the supernatural. Every time she said goodbye, she worried it would be the last. She’d taken to reading medical books in the evenings when Kagome was away, just in case the knowledge might be needed someday.
She sometimes wondered if Inuyasha could sense her fear – he’d been looking at with a very serious expression this morning before they departed. But her Toshi had always said that fear was something that should be faced, that it was something that should not stop you living life the way that you wished to, and she was doing her best to support Kagome in what the fates had chosen for her. Her daughter was working so hard to train and learn and keep up with her school work. She was inordinately proud of her. But it was hard.
Eri’s mother had called yesterday, wanting to know if she could assist in any way with Kagome’s health. She had clucked sympathetically over the phone, but Mama had immediately recognised the call for what it was. Questions must be circulating again about Kagome’s continual absences through the parent’s grape vine, and Eri’s mother was fishing for gossip. The line being cast became even more obvious when she’d commented on Kagome’s ‘boyfriend’, a topic Mama refused to either confirm or deny. She’d managed to fob her off this time with a vague excuse saying they were waiting for results from a clinic, but that woman was persistent, the thin edge of a very large wedge of parents who were all ready to judge at the slightest sign of weakness.
After making ojiichan his lunch, she decided the monthly accounts could be put off no longer. She sat at her desk, the hot cup of tea she’d made herself neglected until it turned cold and bitter while she struggled to make the figures stretch as far as she needed them to. The government allowance for keeping the shrine running was not huge. The Sunset Shrine was only small, visited by faithful locals, rather than large crowds of city dwellers and tourists ready to spend money on omamori and fortunes that the more popular shrines attracted. She would have to think about ways to bring in extra money. Ojiichan was getting older, and she wanted to be able to look after him and provide all the comforts he deserved in his old age. And then there was schooling for Kagome and Souta.
She was startled out of her calculations when Souta burst in through the back door like a whirlwind, kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag with a thump in the genkan. School was over already?
“Hi Mama! Can’t stay, I’ve got kendo practice! Sensei said last week that my gi is getting too small and I need a new one. And the competition fees for next weekend are overdue! I gotta go get changed or I’ll be late!”
“Souta! Your bag does not belong in the entryway where everyone will trip over it young man!” Mama called out, but he’d already flung himself up the stairs. She looked over the figures again worriedly. Maybe they might have to sell some of the family ‘treasures’ out in the shrine store room. If she could pry them out of ojiichan’s reluctant fingers that is.
Her head was thumping, and the figures seemed to be making even less sense than they did when she’d first sat down more than an hour ago. She finally gave up, shuffling the paperwork back together to file it away in her desk, then reached up to the small box that sat on the top of the fridge filled with more regularly used medications, to get herself some paracetamol. But the box was empty. Kagome had obviously raided it again, taking all the paracetomol and ibruprofen to restock her medical kit. Right. She took a slow deep breath in, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. It wasn’t that she minded Kagome taking them, they were obviously needed, but she could at least inform her that they needed to be replaced.
There was a hollow feeling in her chest. An empty ache. All day long, there had been a nagging feeling that she was forgetting something important. It was dragging at her memory, wanting her to concentrate on it, but everyone seemed to need something different from her, and she’d not been able to concentrate. Maybe it was a shrine anniversary of some sort? She checked the calendar, and her heart dropped into her shoes.
Oh Toshi. It was their wedding anniversary. She’d got through more than half of the day without even thinking about him on a day which had once been so important. Her throat felt thick, and she bit her lip hard, trying to force back the tears that wanted to spring to her eyes. Don’t cry. You can’t cry when Souta is home. She pinched hard on the inside of her wrist, a trick she’d learned over the years to help push back the grief when it surfaced at inappropriate times. Deep breath. She heard Souta’s heavy steps as he thundered back down the steps, wearing his gi and hakama with his kendo gear bag over his shoulder. She was ready to greet her son with a bright smile as he headed out the door.
“Straight back home after practice okay? I’m making curry, seeing Inuyasha-kun isn’t here!”
“Okay Mama. See you later!”
The door slammed as he took off, and Grandpa grumbled as he re-appeared in the kitchen carrying his empty plate, complaining about the noise.
“He’s just young, ojiichan – he didn’t mean any disrespect. How is your back feeling?”
“Not too bad. At least Inuyasha-kun didn’t break anything this time”, he said, rubbing down low on his spine. He’d been taking an inventory yesterday, and had made Inuyasha help him with the heavier boxes.
“He’s actually a very helpful boy you know, when you let him get on with things, and don’t hover over him with sutras”, Mama remarked, teasing him a little. Grandpa snorted.
“That ‘boy’ is probably older than you and me put together”, he huffed. “Plenty of time to have learned the good sense he doesn’t display that often. The kitchen has never been the same since he took a swing at that cockroach with his sword.” He looked carefully at his daughter-in-law, taking in her overly bright smile. “Are you okay Kaori-chan?”
“I’m fine”, she smiled. He gave her a hard stare and her smile faltered. “Alright, I will be fine. But I might go and to the family haka by myself for a little while, if that’s okay ojiichan? I promise I will be back in time to make dinner.”
The old man reached out and took one of his daughter in law’s hands in his, the look on his face sombre but understanding.
“I probably don’t say this enough Kaori-chan, but my son chose well. I could not have asked for a better daughter.”
“Thank you ojiichan”, she smiled, patting his hand. “I feel the same way about you.” She dropped a kiss onto the old man’s balding head, then went to genkan to put on her jacket and shoes., letting her mind wander as she walked down the steep shrine steps to the bus stop, waiting for the familiar bus that would take her to the family plot at the cemetery.
Her own family had turned their back on her when she’d refused a marriage offer by an older, much wealthier man to marry Toshinori, her high school sweetheart. Her parents had not spoken to her since she’d left home, but thankfully Toshi’s family had welcomed her with open arms as the daughter they’d never had.
She loved Toshi’s parents, and had come to think of them as her own. She’d been there for Toshi’s mother Hana, nursing her at home when she was diagnosed with cancer. She’d done her best to ease her growing pain with all the love and care she could until she’d died a year later, surrounded by family. Then Kagome was born, a few weeks after Hana’s death. It had helped to have a baby to focus on, even though it was a hard time. Kagome had been the apple of her grandfather’s eye, she still was, and he had spoilt her rotten.
After years of trying, when Kagome was nearly eight, she’d become pregnant again, a boy this time. Toshi had been overjoyed. They were so happy, so in love. It didn’t seem fair that not everyone could have a life like theirs, and she pitied those whose marriages were not a true meeting of hearts like hers was. They knew each other inside and out. Teased each other constantly, laughed at ridiculous things, loved their baby daughter with all that they had. And now they would have a son too. It felt like the kami were smiling down on their little family. Right up until that night that the police came to the door, to inform her about the car accident.
Toshi had never woken from his coma. She had been the one to make the decision to turn off his life support, with ojiichan’s blessing. Toshi had been a man full of life, full of joy, and she knew that he would not have wanted to continue in the state that he was. She had wept beside him, gripping his hand and repeating ‘I love you’ constantly, as if trying to complete the next forty years of being unable to say it to him in person into the short time left. And then she had left the room, knowing she would never see him again. If it had not been for Kagome waiting for her at home with ojiichan, and their son still growing in her womb, she would have left the hospital and gladly walked straight into the oncoming traffic so she wouldn’t have to live in a world without him in it.
The sound of the bus pulling up alongside her stop startled her out of her thoughts, and the bus driver nodded politely at her when she mounted the steps – he’d been driving this route for many years, and knew where she was going.
“It’s a little later in the day than you usually go Higurashi-san”, he remarked as she tapped her bus pass. “Make sure you don’t miss the last bus back.”
Mama smiled politely. “I’ll remember. Thank you.” She made sure to keep the mask of politeness set on her face as she moved to her seat. Being part of a shrine family meant being recognised on sight by everyone in the area. Expectations must be upheld.
It was a twenty minute trip to the cemetery, which she spent silently, her eyes gazing out the window but focused internally on the many happy memories replaying in her mind. She paused to buy a bunch of rust coloured chrysanthemums from the flower stall at the gate, then followed the path down through the maze of family graves, the tall markers reaching up towards the sky like a well ordered stone forest. Finally she arrived at the Higurashi marker.
Kneeling down, she washed her hands, then arranged the flowers carefully in the vase, straightening bent stalks. She lit the sandalwood incense stick, watching the swirling ribbons of smoke disippate through the crisp breeze, then clapped her hands.
‘Hello Toshi. I’m sorry I’m late dear heart. Happy Anniversary.” She leaned forwards, pulling out a stray weed that had grown up through the pebbles around the marble. “Were you waiting for me? I can’t stay very long this time. I promised Souta I would make curry for dinner this evening; he always works up such an appetite after kendo practice. And he’s a growing boy, your son. His kendo hakama and gi are getting too small for him.”
Her fingers traced over the graceful incisions in the marble that marked her husband’s name, the gold inlay glinting in the afternoon sunlight. The thought of Souta’s hakama sparked a memory.
“Do you remember all those photos we had to sit through, after the ceremony?” she smiled. “We kept giggling, and your mother scolded us, because she wanted some serious photos. You looked so handsome in those traditional striped hakama. Our wedding day was one of the happiest days of my life.”
Without warning, her bottom lip trembled, and the hot tears that she’d put aside earlier in the day returned with a vengeance, falling thick and fast. “Why did you have to go my Toshi? I miss you. I still miss you. You were such a good good man, how could all that disappear in an instant? Why did you have to leave?” she sobbed, her fists clenched in her lap, gripping the fabric of her skirt tightly as she bent forward to rest her forehead against the cool stone. It took her a moment to calm her sobs, breathing deeply, letting the coolness of the stone soothe her aching head.
“I’m sorry for the tears on what should be a happy day”, she whispered, “I’m just so tired Toshi, so very tired. I’m always worried about Kagome. She works so very hard, trying to do her best for everyone. I know Inuyasha is there to protect her, but I’m her mother. I’m always wondering if I’m doing the right thing, letting her do this. Your father was against her going through the well at first, but you always told me to trust what my heart said, and my heart says this is right, even though my head is terrified.” A small breeze swirled around her, lifting the chrysanthemum petals and wafting the incense towards the grave in a steady stream. She smiled a small teary smile. “I’m glad you think so too. I’m still not quite sure what to do about her schooling, but I will figure it out, I’m sure.”
She spent the next half hour sitting silently, listening to the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the muted sounds of Tokyo traffic. It was such a peaceful place. A place where she could sit quietly and regroup, try and regain her strength. She checked her watch, and realised that it was time to leave, if she were to make the next bus.
“Thank you for letting me ramble on koishii. I will come again, as soon as I can. I might bring your father with me next time. I’m sure he would love to visit with you and obaachan.” She got to her feet slowly, hissing a little as the blood rushed back into cramped feet.
It was a slow walk back to the bus stop, then a winding route back, but she didn’t mind. It was nice to be alone with her own thoughts once in a while, without the constant needs of others crowding in. By the time she’d climbed back up the steep stone steps and walked back into the kitchen to cook dinner, she was ready to tackle the world again. For a while at least.
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the first breath [p.parker x reader]
notes: hi! i... actually love this. i’m a sucker for soulmate! au’s, so naturally this was somewhat easy to write. this is just a small break from my tempest series, ill continue posting tomorrow (bc it’s my birthday!). tomorrow as in the eleventh, just in case it’s already daytime wherever you’re reading this!
contains: soulmate! au, some swearing
pairing: peter parker + reader
word count: 3.6k
“Hey!”
Peter’s heart thumped hard in his chest. Looking around for the person, he saw a girl greeting a friend, and Peter sighed, unconsciously massaging the band covering his left wrist.
No matter how many times Peter had heard the word, it never failed to send a spike of panic in him. It was just a word, an unfairly common greeting phrase in America, but to Peter, it meant infinitely more.
“Stupid Soulmark,” Peter grumbled to himself as he walked the halls of Midtown High.
For as long as humans could tell, each individual was born with a word or phrase inked into the skin of their nondominant forearm. The Marks could say anything, but they belonged to the first words spoken to you by your soulmate.
Soulmarks were considered sacred by most of the world, and like most sacred things, they were hidden from public view. Soulbands were a staple in almost every culture, meant to only be taken off in front of your soulmate. Although modern times saw the general acceptance of most controversial topics that were shunned in the past, Soulbands seemed to never grow out of popularity. It was also a sense of security, to make sure that they couldn’t be said by the wrong person.
Some had easily-identifiable Marks. Where there was little room for doubt that the words spoken belonged to your soulmate. Others, like Peter, had simple, one-word Marks.
For as long as he could remember, Peter lived in a near-constant state of anxiety over the word. What would normally be an off-hand remark or a polite greeting made Peter’s heart skip and his knees grow weak.
Whenever greeted with the word, Peter would tense, and respond with a stiff, “Um, hi?” and watch as the person gave him a weird or blank look in return. There had been several instances - none of which he was particularly proud of - where Peter ran away rather than face the sting of false hope.
Most religions viewed Soulmarks as divine intervention, a sign that humans were blessed by the gods. A lot of the time, Peter wanted to curse whatever gods forced them into the arranged couplings.
Failing at keeping the scowl at bay, Peter stopped at his locker, twisting the lock and opening it to return his books.
“Hey, Peter,” a voice said from behind, and he instantly recognized it as Ned Leeds, his best (and only, really) friend. Peter turned only his head, unsurprised to find Betty Brant, Ned’s soulmate, at his side.
Like most matched individuals, Ned seemed to glow with happiness in the presence of their soulmate. Sometimes the dopey smile on Ned’s face was too much for Peter. Whether it was from envy or discomfort, feeling the never-ending, unadulterated joy exuding from him made Peter’s stomach turn and twist uncomfortably.
“Hey, Ned. Betty,” Peter nodded as a greeting, stacking his textbooks in his locker.
“Are you planning on going to the... internship, today?” Ned whispered, his inability for subtly flaring to life. Though Betty had been Ned’s match long enough to know Peter’s secret, it was a good thing the halls had pretty much been deserted at that point, as the school day had been over for more than ten minutes.
“Yeah,” Peter shut his locker, heaving his significantly lighter backpack over his shoulder. “Just neighborhood stuff, though.”
Ned nodded enthusiastically. Despite how preoccupied he was with Betty, Ned had always been Peter’s go-to Spider-Man guy. Ned called himself “The Guy in The Chair”, but Peter refused to say it out loud unless absolutely necessary.
They parted ways at the train station, where Peter went to find a secluded alley to change into his suit.
-
You had no idea what possessed your parents to up and move the family to New York.
You’d lived your entire life in a small, cozy town in the middle of nowhere. You’d enjoyed that life. Then suddenly, your father called you down one day earlier that summer to announce that in a few months, you’d be packing and moving to the heart of Queens.
Despite having been in the bustling city for weeks now, you still hadn’t gotten used to walking through the crowded streets. People were rude here; though, with the craziness of the city, you weren’t really sure you could blame them. Still, it filled you with frustration when you tried to weave through the streets, only to be knocked roughly in the shoulder and subsequently cursed out for no damn reason.
On the bright side - the only bright side, if you were being honest - was the exponential increase in the possibility that you would finally meet your soulmate.
Your hometown was lovely and quaint, but the general teenage population left a lot to be desired. It didn’t help that there were only fifty other people in your graduating class, or that you’d met and exchanged first words with every single of them already.
That being said, of all the people you’d met at Midtown so far, none of them had said the words branded on your right wrist. But to be fair, there weren’t many opportunities where someone had to yell, “I swear I wasn’t aiming at you!”
You didn’t have to worry about the possibility of danger in your old town, but in New York, you were vaguely concerned that the words would be uttered during a mugging.
Unfortunately, you were quite right to be concerned.
-
“All right, Karen, what do we got?”
Peter watched as the screen flashed, images of satellite footage and recordings of police radio calls popping up and disappearing again as Karen flipped through potential threats.
“The city is quiet today,” Karen’s robotic voice remarked. Distantly, Peter wondered how the voice was created, and if it was recorded, who the person was behind the voice. It was distinctly human, after all, without the awkward pauses and emphases that Siri usually had. “There have been no reports of any robberies or shootings.”
Peter sighed, bored and disappointed. He’d long gotten over the guilt of wanting some danger in the city.
Suddenly, before Karen could notify him, he heard a voice cry, “Stop that guy!”
Immediately swinging into action, Peter noticed a man in his mid-twenties sprinting down the sidewalk, shoving himself through the crowd. The woman who’d yelled for help was young, in her thirties, but still wasn’t fast enough to keep up.
Peter swung overhead, gaining distance and landing directly in the guy’s path. The thief skidded to a halt, his eyes widening in obvious fear at the sight of Spider-Man. He clutched a purse to his chest.
“It’s not nice to steal!” Peter yelled, moving to shoot a web at the purse. But the thief was quick, and he ducked under his web, making a run for it.
Peter was faster though and lunged to bodyslam him, sending him into the wall of a nearby building. The impact knocked the purse from his grasp, and it spilled to the ground as the man struggled to get back up. Peter webbed him to the wall and notified Karen to call the police.
Satisfied with his handiwork, Peter was about to leap onto the roof when an aggravated noise caught his attention instead.
He turned to see you growling, your splayed hand webbed to a streetlamp. The web the thief dodged must’ve hit you instead. Catching sight of him noticing you, you yelled out, “Hey!”
For once in his life, the word didn’t seem to register. He was, for lack of a better word, enchanted by you. Even with furious indignation twisting your face, he couldn’t stop staring at the depth of your eyes and the slope of your nose. Blinking, he said without thinking, “I swear I wasn’t aiming for you!”
It was a stupid response, admittedly. Of course, he wasn’t aiming for you. You’d probably noticed the thief and could probably make the connection.
However, Peter didn’t have time to think about the pointlessness of the protest, because he was too busy registering what you’d said. The word. His word.
Cheeks flaming under his mask, Peter braced himself for the rejection. But it never came.
Your eyes went impossibly wide, and you immediately stopped yanking against the web. Peter watched as you gaped at him, and thanks to the mechanics of the suit, he noticed that your heart rate increased significantly.
Almost in a trance, Peter stepped toward you. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
Your mouth closed, and you visibly swallowed. “Depends,” your voice was tight, anxious. “How often do you accidentally shoot your webs at innocent bystanders?”
You flushed as you registered the double meaning behind the words. Peter watched in amusement as your cheeks flushed and you stammered to correct yourself.
“I-I just mean that -”
“It’s okay, I -”
Peter started to placate you, feeling the blood rushing through his veins like soda, popping and fizzing under his skin. But he was cut off by the sound of Karen’s voice, though distant, but urgent enough to draw his attention away from you.
“Peter, there’s a hostage situation that was just called in happening thirteen blocks away,” the AI announced, causing Peter to falter in his steps.
“I-I gotta go,” he told you, hurrying to free your trapped hand from the lamppost, and backing away reluctantly. “I’ll find you, I promise!”
He could see the disappointment on your face as you watched him scuttle off, and every cell in his body protested the distance he forced between him and his soulmate, but he knew he had to go.
“If you were anyone else, that’d be super creepy!” You yelled as Peter swung away. He smiled widely under his mask.
-
Your skin was still tingling and your cheeks were sore from smiling so much when you finally reached your apartment.
All you had to do was look at your mother for her to tell that you had met your soulmate. After spending an hour at the kitchen table being interrogated by your parents, you were finally released to your room to process.
You closed the door gently behind you and slid your back against the wood until your bottom rested on the ground. You tilted your head back, barely feeling the thunk as it collided with the door. Every time you tried to relax your face into a neutral expression, you remembered the way Spider-Man’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of you, and how your heart skipped several beats as he said the words you knew so well, and your lips crawled back into a giddy smile once more.
Even in your hometown in the middle of nowhere, you had known about Spider-Man. The superhero wasn’t nearly as popular as he seemed to be in the city he protected, but you still remembered the passing of phones and newspapers whenever Spider-Man saved another day or stopped another robbery. Even your high school had a day dedicated to him after a particularly miraculous defeat of the notorious Green Goblin, who’d terrorized the borough for weeks before he was stopped.
Spider-Man was a national - if not global - phenomenon. And he just so happened to be your soulmate.
You’d just reached for your phone to call your best friend from home when a knock on your window startled you.
You jumped, scrambling to your feet. Your apartment was on the eighth story, there was no way a burglar would have climbed all this way to rob you. A burglar wouldn’t knock either, you scoffed internally.
Tiptoeing to the window, you peered through the glass. Even under the dark cover of the late hour, you could distinctly make out the identity of the figure. You hurried to unlatch and open the pane, stepping back nervously when the figure climbed through, rather clumsily for how graceful he normally was.
Spider-Man was polite enough to close the window behind him, cutting off the brisk gust of wind that caused goosebumps to appear on your arms. You crossed them, rubbing them to warm yourself up.
When he straightened and faced you once more, you couldn’t help but stare back. You bit your lip anxiously, suddenly very aware of how messy your room was. You had, after all, just moved in, and most of your stuff was either still in boxes or strewn haphazardly about the room.
“I’m sorry for the mess,” you blurted, unable to help yourself. “We just moved here a couple weeks ago, and... well, y’know.” You gestured unhelpfully around the room.
Every cell in your body seemed as though they were vibrating. The muscles in your chest twitched and your bones ached to close the distance between the two of you. It was as though you and your soulmate were opposite ends of a magnet, and the field around you was pulling your bodies together.
“It-It’s okay,” Spider-Man stuttered, and you realized that he’d turned off his voice modulator. You hadn’t even realized earlier that he was using one, but you now recognized the difference. His voice was higher than before, not as robotic and crackly. “I don’t mind.”
You nodded awkwardly. Spider-Man shifted his balance between his feet, as if he too was fighting the urge to get closer.
“Uh, how did you find me, anyway?” You couldn’t help but ask.
“Well, there’s this intelligence system installed in my suit, and I had her look up your address,” the eyes of his suit narrowed sharply as if he was wincing, probably at how creepy it sounded. “I hope that’s not too creepy, because it sounds pretty creepy. I didn’t - I mean, I wasn’t stalking you or anything.”
You smiled. Spider-Man rambled adorably, and though the thought of him looking up your address should have been terrifying, you found that you didn’t mind at all. You weren’t sure if it was because he was your soulmate, or if it was because he was a superhero. Either way, you placated him. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”
Despite your insistence that it was fine, Spider-Man still held himself back, hesitant to move forward with the conversation. To cut through the awkward tension, you said the first thing that came to mind.
“I like your suit,” you said, cringing immediately after. While true, that wasn’t exactly what you meant to say.
With the mask, you couldn’t decipher Spider-Man’s reaction. Though, after a brief moment, he chuckled.
“Thanks,” he giggled. You felt yourself relax. “I like your shirt.”
You looked down. It was an old band shirt that you bought at a thrift store a few years ago and was well-worn, the ink faded and several holes stretching the neck out. “Uh, thanks.” You smiled nonetheless because it seemed that Spider-Man was just as nervous as you were, which inexplicably made you feel much better.
“My name’s Y/N, by the way,” you smiled, holding out your hand. “But if you know my address, you probably know my name, too.”
You thought you could see Spider-Man smiling under the mask. It shifted over his face as he accepted the handshake, wrapping his hand around yours. Even through the fabric of his suit, his skin burned like a furnace. From anyone else, it may have been stifling. But from him, the warmth was cozy, a calming heat rushing through your hand and up your arm, wrapping around your heart like a security blanket.
“I do,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. It took you a second to connect what he meant.
The seconds passed and your hands were no longer shaking, but neither of you dropped the hold. You found yourself drifting closer toward Spider-Man, and it took all of your energy not to fall into his chest and wrap your arms around his waist.
“I’m guessing that your real name’s not Spider-Man,” you cocked your head. “And I feel like it’s only fair that I know my soulmate’s name, too.”
Your breath hitched. You heard him inhale sharply, too. It was the first time you’d directly acknowledged to each other what you were, and it suddenly was too real for you.
You jerked your hand back, embarrassed. Your hand was startlingly cold now, suddenly bereft of Spider-Man’s touch. You flexed it subconsciously, yearning to reach out and grab his hand again.
“I - I...” you tried to explain yourself, but the wide, questioning eyes of his suit made you falter. You averted your eyes as you took an anxious step back, fighting against an overwhelming urge to flee.
“No, wait -” Spider-Man said, and reached up and yanked his mask off in one swift motion.
Your eyes immediately found his, as if they were pulled instinctively to each other. His soft almond-shaped eyes were filled with worry and caution, the warm brown irises gleaming in the darkness of your room. The lights of the ever-glowing city were the only light filtering in your room, and the shadows cut angles against Spider-Man’s cheekbones, carving his jowls and accentuating his slim mouth. Even in the darkness, you could make out the light smattering of freckles across the slightly crooked bridge of his nose, and the endearing flick of his left eyebrow, emphasized by their worried arch.
The chestnut curls piled on top of his head were tousled from the mask and flipped haphazardly over his forehead. His ears stuck out from his head, but instead of looking awkward, they fit his face nicely, softening the sharp edges of his high cheekbones. They were what made his already stunning face heartbreakingly adorable, and you fought the need to run your fingers over the shell of them.
Though the shadowy bags under his eyes conveyed a sense of exhaustion too severe for his apparent age, Spider-Man was younger than you thought. If you were to hazard a guess, Spider-Man was about your age, give or take a couple years.
“My name’s Peter,” he breathed, looking slightly panicked as you studied him. “Peter Parker.”
“Peter Parker,” you whispered, testing out the name on your tongue. The words were gentle but the pounding in your chest was overwhelming. The tension that grew since being in his presence while pulling yourself away made you feel as if you were drowning, gasping for breath. There was a bursting sensation in your stomach, then a warm, satisfying weight that spoke of absolute certainty that Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man, was your soulmate.
You felt your body inch toward his, and the relief flooding his face was palpable. You stepped closer to him, relishing in the way your body hummed in delight at the closeness.
Peter looked down at you, his gaze sweet and caring as he searched your face. There was a moment of content examination spent in comfortable silence as you both memorized every little detail of each other’s faces.
It should have been awkward, looking and saying nothing, but the longer you spent staring into each other’s eyes, the farther you seemed to fall. It was completely ridiculous and entirely premature, but you were certain that Peter was someone you could fall madly in love with.
“Hi,” you whispered, grinning shyly.
“Hi,” Peter responded just as softly, a mirroring smile stretching his lips.
Suddenly realizing something, you moved back just enough to bring your hand up. Peter backed away slightly, though it seemed to pain him.
You grabbed at the band covering your forearm, watching Peter’s expression as you unwound it. His eyes went wide, shifting from your arm to your eyes, then back to your arm as the band fell away and exposed your Mark.
Eyes meeting yours for permission, he tenderly took your proffered arm. His eyes roved over the Mark, before he brought his own hand to his mouth, grabbing the middle finger of his glove and yanking it off.
With his bared hand, he reverently ghosted his fingers over the inked letters. The look on his face was pure awe. “I really wasn’t aiming for you.”
He winced as though the words weren’t meant to escape. You chuckled. “I know.”
The light caressing of his fingertips against the sacred Mark shot spikes of pleasure through your body. It was a heady feeling, seeing your life partner touching the place meant for only the two of you.
When he looked back up at you, his face was split in an achingly loving smile. He pulled away, and yanked on the sleeve, revealing his own band.
It was simpler than yours, designed to fit slimly to the skin under his suit. It only took a simple click of his finger for it to release. On the dip of the inside of his wrist was the word, “hey!” written in your handwriting. With gentle movements, you traced the lines with your fingers. Peter visibly shuddered, watching you soak in the Mark.
Though you could’ve stared at it forever, you finally tore your eyes away. You met Peter’s gaze, finding the weight of it easier to handle than you thought.
With your thumb pressed to the Mark, and his hand wrapped around yours, the universe nudged you together. You and Peter fell into each other, lips meeting and melding as your bodies and souls collided like two exploding stars; fate and gravity and destiny crashing into each other and settling happily between you and your soulmate.
Your Mark burned and your lips ached with the pressure of your shared kisses. Reality forced your bodies apart, foreheads resting against one another as you caught your breath, but all at once, your soul felt grounded - you hadn’t even realized how empty it was until it found Peter’s.
In the safety of his arms, you breached the surface and took your first full breath.
#soulmate#soulmate fanfiction#soulmate!au#peter parker#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker x reader#peter parker imagine#peter parker is my soulmate#soulmarks#fanfiction#fanfic#far from home#spiderman#spoiler#spider man#Spider Man: Homecoming#spiderman far from home#tom holland#tom holland imagine#tom holland smut#Avengers#The Avengers#avengers: infinity war#avengers endgame#imagine#My fic#my writing#marvel#mcu#sony
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This is a blatant bribe for @entersomethingcreativehere so hope you like part one. :)
“We can’t trust a thing he says.”
Cole pinched the bridge of his nose. “What choice do we have? He’s the only clue we’ve got.”
Jay glanced at the figure seated in front of them. “Everything he says could be a lie!”
Zane frowned at his hands, clenched in fists in his lap. “But anything he says could be what we need.”
Cole nodded. “Then it’s the best plan we have.” He put his hands on the table and leaned in to face the teen in front of him. “Now,” his voice deepened with a glare. “Where. Is. Kai?”
Red eyes met his stare with a grin from under familiar spiked brown hair.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
----------------------------
It had all started a week prior.
Kai woke up with a splitting headache, comeuppance for intense element training the day before without proper hydration for that heat. It admittedly made him a nightmare to deal with – he made a point to work on regulating his mood swings, but the headache made him snappier than usual.
On a ship of seven people, five of which were teenagers…
It made for a tense morning.
“Brookstone, I swear to god, I will suplex you off the Bounty if you don’t move over.” Cole scooted down the bench at their kitchen table, hands thrown up in surrender as he attempted to keep himself (and his breakfast) out of Kai’s warpath.
Nya slid in on his other side, a plate of eggs and toast in tow. “Jeez, Kai, I may be used to your angst, but these guys aren’t. Chill out.”
Kai grumbled and shoved a forkful in his mouth. “He was in my way.”
Cole shrugged and shot Nya a smile. “It’s fine, I’m sure he’ll perk up once he gets some food,”
“And some water, Kai.” Zane’s insistent voice was followed by a glass set directly in front of the fire ninja’s plate. “Your headache should subside with proper care.”
Kai begrudgingly took the glass with a mumbled thanks.
From across the table, Lloyd frowned. “How come he gets to be grumpy and all he gets is a glass of water?” He winced when a newspaper lightly whapped him on the head.
“Kai is grumpy because he made an ill-informed decision. You are grumpy because you were asked to do chores.”
“Besides,” Nya piped up. “He has to get his act together for the day, same as you.”
Kai opened his mouth to protest his comparison to a ten-year-old, only to groan as the alarm blared around the breakfast table. He slumped to his feet with the rest of the team, Jay bounding in with a granola bar between his teeth.
All gathered around the Bounty’s main console, Nya typing away. “Looks like it’s your favorite twins, guys.” A chorus of groans echoed around the room.
“Why, why did Garmadon have to make fake ninja?”
“They are indeed frustratingly tenacious.”
“Just be glad you didn’t get called ‘baby brother’ by one of them.”
Cole snorted at Lloyd’s frustrated complaint. “At any rate, we gotta get moving. Let’s go!”
They arrived at the bank shortly, met with a very disheveled security guard who gave Cole a high five and jabbed his thumb at the building. “They’re…in there,” he panted out. “Good luck.”
The team nodded and dashed in, only to get slammed with a wall of fire.
“About time!”
Kai glared at his mirror-image. “Can you not today?” He yelled, sending his own fireball flying at him.
“Kai!” Zane quickly doused the flames and raised ice walls. “Be careful, we do not want anyone getting hurt!”
A metallic clang rang through the air as Zane reeled from the fist that slammed into his face. “I would worry about yourself,” His bizarro hissed. “Before worrying about others.”
Cole was locked in a grapple with his own opponent, while Jay raced around the room dodging and throwing lightning bolts.
Kai and his bizarro were fighting with intensity – flames shot in all directions, while one cackled and the other growled with each hit.
“This,” Bizarro Kai grunted with another blocked punch. “Is getting boring.”
Kai ducked out of his fireball’s path. “Yeah?” He swept his leg out in an attempt to catch the other off guard. “Then spice it up,” he drew his katana. “Surrender, before you get hurt.”
Bizarro Kai grinned and shook his head. “Nah, not my style – but I’d be down for a new opponent.” Kai tilted his head quizzically. “Hear baby bro’s started ninja training.” Kai’s face dropped at the poisonous look on his doppelganger’s face. “Wonder how much fun he’d be to fight.”
Kai snarled. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Bizarro Kai grinned. “Try and stop me.” He turned and shouted to his Cole, using him as a springboard to jump to the shattered skylight. Kai stared after him, before turning to the earth ninja.
“Cole! Boost – now!”
Cole followed Kai’s line of sight to the escaping bizarro, before bracing his hands. “Quick!” He threw the red ninja to the roof before whirling back to his own opponent. “Let’s finish this up guys!”
Kai raced after his double, ducking into alleys and leaping across rooftops. The Bounty floated just outside of the city limits – if he let himself get beat, and Lloyd was home alone…he shook the thought out of his head.
A sudden punch to his eye wrenched him out of his thoughts and sent him reeling into the dirt.
Kai groaned and rolled to get up, his head spinning and now throbbing from his earlier headache – only to find a blade at his throat. He curled his lip up at his attacker and raised his hands.
“What do you want?”
“From you?” Bizarro Kai scoffed. “Nothing. But Garmadon…he wants information.”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
Bizarro Kai rolled his eyes before raising his fist again. “You don’t have to.” He pulled Kai up by his gi, leaning in with a smirk. “Your buddies are gonna tell me everything. He punched fast and hard.
Kai’s world flashed abruptly to black.
#ninjago#ninjago au#bizarro ninja#kai#kai smith#cole#Cole brookstone#jay#jay walker#zane#zane julien#nya#nya smith#lloyd#lloyd garmadon#wu#sensei wu#get ready for some kai whump#cause that's what this is turning into#stolen spark
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Title: Congé
WC: 800
“What exactly was the nature of your relationship with this woman?”
— Richard Castle, When the Bough Breaks (2 x 05)
The party is in full swing, not that anyone would know it from the blast radius that has opened up around her at one end of the bar. The blast radius is a recent development. It’s a work in progress, given the surprising number of men who would like to buy her a drink. Here. At an open bar.
It’s a line for some—either swagger or an ill-advised attempt at charm. For others it’s nerves or cluelessness or some combination of the two. Regardless of their angle of approach it’s evidence of a death wish for every last one of them. Every last one of them eventually figures that out, though some get closer to wish fulfillment than others.
She is not keeping her promise, despite achieving her blast radius, despite the slow but steady stream of better-than-average complimentary liquor. She is not enjoying the party. She’s not even sure why she’s still at the party.
She has made her flashbulb-illuminated entrance. She has greeted the man of the hour, near a picturesque stack of books, no less, sparking off another, marginally more discrete, set of pop-pop-pop-pops. She has let an allowed a decent interval to elapse, and on his last, very brief drive-by, the Captain had mumbled a job well done in her general direction
Job well done.
She feels the music traveling up through the floor and the bass in her chest. She hears snatches of gushing conversation from people who probably haven’t even read the blurbs on the book jacket yet. She sees, in her peripheral vision, a sea of beautiful people in expensive clothes, all dressed up to celebrate Nikki Heat.
She could take it as her cue to make good her escape. She could be off this uncomfortable barstool, out of this roaring, crowded space with the irregular pop, pop, pop of camera flashes. She could be done with clumsy, unwelcome advances. She could find a side door to duck out of and be done, it seems, with this entire unwanted, uncomfortable stretch of her life. She could be done.
She senses someone entering the blast radius. A body approaching that absorbs some of the relentless sound.
“Gotta warn you,” she says without looking up from the Olympic condensation rings she’s making on the bar top. “You’re the tenth punch on my Can I buy you a drink card.”
“Ryan sent me to save you from yourself.” Lanie slides on to the stool next to her and summons a bartender, already holding a generous pour of red wine, from the ether. “Javi said we should hang back and sell tickets to whatever’s like to happen to lucky number ten.”
Kate ripples the surface of her bourbon with something like a laugh. She’s braced for a Lanie Lecture—or maybe for small talk about the party, about the book, about the betting pool surrounding Castle’s eventual Chests Autographed total for the evening, but it doesn’t come. None of it comes. Lanie sips her wine, at ease inside the blast radius. She says nothing.
“He’s doing another book. A different book. Three of them.” She makes some headway on her drink at last. Lanie waits her out. “He’s going.”
“Ah.” Lanie takes a sip of her wine. “So that’s it.”
“What?” She rounds on her. “What’s ‘it’?”
“Your boy’s going,” she makes a gestures toward the open floor where Castle must be mingling, “and that’s got you feeling some kind of way—”
“Some kind of—“ she’s on the verge of a blow up that would definitely drive ticket sales. She realizes now that she’s been on the verge of it all through the blast radius hours, but Lanie fixes her with a mild look.
“It’s not what you expected,” she says as she sets down her wine glass and slides off the stool. She permits herself an exasperated eye roll. “Whatever you expected—what’s going on in that head right now isn’t it. So come on.”
“Come on where?” Kate warily sets down her drink.
“Somewhere else.” Lanie waves off the specifics. She turns and heads for the door. “Gotta be a decent dive bar, even in this part of town.”
“We’ll—“ She trails off. She stops and looks down at her shoes against the red carpet. She casts a glance back at the picturesque stack of books with a feeling that’s as likely to be regret as it is relief. “We’ll have to pay for our own drinks.”
“Girl, look at you.” Lanie pops one hip and plants her fist on it. She gestures to herself from plunging neckline to tantalizingly short hemline. “Hell, look at me.” She shakes her head and resumes the march out of the damned party, muttering, “Pay for our own drinks. Please.”
A/N: Well this thing (not a thing) wouldn’t go where I thought it would go. It is the way of not things.
images via homeofthenutty
#Castle#Caskett#Castle: Season 2#Castle: When the Bough Breaks#Kate Beckett#Richard Castle#Lanie Parish#Roy Montgomery#Kevin Ryan#Javier Esposito#Fic#Fanfic#Fanfiction#Fan Fic#Fan Fiction#Writing#Interrogatives?
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Doing those ship meme questions only it's the new OT3 (Beckett/Sascha/Ilias) because they're my main source of serotonin these days. Occasional appearances from Anatole and Lucita, too.
Not doing all, but there are A Lot.
1. Who's the one who's reckless and always getting into trouble while the other gotta pull em out
Beckett and Sascha actually do have a lot of braincells between them but none of them are in use for 'can sense danger'. Ilias has gained some minor common sense since his 'hey, I'm going to ask our Antediluvian for power to help face its favourite childe oh whoops I am possessed' thing and is usually the one sighing fondly and saving their asses.
2. Who's the one to send the other "I love my gf/bf" memes
Ilias. 100% Ilias. He would go out in public in a shirt saying 'I <3 Sascha' and calling them ‘my flower’ while Sascha is just pleased they can't blush any more.
3. Who's the one who listens to a music genre the other doesn't like and how does the other react
God their music tastes are all over the place. Sascha is over a thousand years old and has seen and heard A Lot. They consider the Romantic period 'modern music'. Beckett is similar albeit with about 350 years of it. Ilias got hurled from 1233 to 2004 and after a period of ??? went, "Oh, Romanian music!" and it was. Dragostea Din Tei. Like can you imagine one moment it’s 1233 and the next moment you are listening to Dragostea Din Tei. Also thanks to the language drift they only caught about a quarter of the words so it was this whole thing where he almost, almost was understanding it but the rest was just, “...what.” And that’s how Ilias discovered modern music.
Anyway yeah they’ve pretty much decided that their collective music tastes are so disparate no one is allowed to comment on them.
4. Which one spoils the other more and do they ever get competitive to show the other more love
Honestly, they all kind of spoil each other, albeit in different ways. Like Ilias will just randomly pop a handmade flower crown on Sascha’s head. Beckett will occasionally find an extremely rare book on his desk and know Sascha found it for him. Beckett always tells Sascha first when he’s found something cool so they can be the first to investigate it. And they absolutely get competitive, yeah.
5. How many years did it take to get married or was it just not for them
Sascha and Ilias have a mutual blood bond, which is more or less the equivalent of thus. Beckett has a mutual bond with Anatole, but he and Sascha have a level-2 bond.
7. Are their friends/family supportive
Honestly, uh, Sascha and Ilias don’t really have anyone else. Beckett’s companions tend to range from, “They’re terrifying but I trust your judgment :D” (Anatole) to “hahahahahaha if Vykos harms one hair on Beckett’s head I’ll end them” (Lucita) to “WHY” (Aristotle, Okulos, most others tbh).
8. How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying
Sascha is the one most prone to panic attacks because trauma is a bitch and basically just... Beckett and Ilias both respond by with hugging/gentle restraint (if they’re okay with touch) or by giving them space and doing things like running a hot bath when they’re touch-averse.
9. Which one dissociates
Honestly Sascha spent most of 1234 to 2006 lowkey dissociating, which is fair when there’s literally another essence fused to yours. Post-Dracon, they still get the occasional dissociative episode, but it’s much easier to bring them back to themself.
10. Which one stares at the other's booty like “damn” and how does the other react when catching them
All three tbh. Beckett stares at Sascha, Sascha either gets a bit self-conscious or a bit ;) , depending on mood. Sascha stares at both Beckett and Ilias and gets a bit embarrassed when caught (Beckett will laugh it off, Ilias will basically be ;D). Ilias stares at both and is completely shameless about it because he may no longer be on the Path of Pleasure but he’s absolutely not going to feel ashamed for admiring his gorgeous lovers.
11. When they live together what kinda place do they live in? What does their home look like?
Beckett and Sascha travel too much for one place, honestly, and Ilias accompanies them a lot. They do have a few houses scattered throughout the world, though, including one in the Carpathians (nowhere near Brasov, tyvm). Not really as big as the monastery, it’s mostly like... big library, a few comfortable places to sleep or rest, Ilias likes having a garden these days and grows a lot of flowers.
12. What do their dates look like
Museum heists.
13. How does each act when getting drunk
Ilias gets even more handsy. Actually he can get to be a bit of a pain, but he does listen immediately if one of them tells him to tone it down. Beckett gets very enthusiastic and fired-up and a bit more feral and he’s gonna go find Enoch right now and prove Caine wasn’t real once and for all. Sascha, uh, tends to get a bit emotional and also very talkative, but can literally like. Talk their way into minor breakdowns. Basically less barriers.
14. Which one rolls over in the morning evening to wake up the other one just to kiss them
All three :3
15. Have they saved each other's lives before
Yup!
Ficverse-wise, Sascha did also save Ilias from becoming a bogatyr to the Eldest, although that was also Sascha and Beckett both saving themselves by being emotionally honest. Yeah XD
16. Does one have an interest the other think is weird but wants to listen to it regardless
Ilias’ spirituality conflicts a bit with Beckett’s... atheism, I guess? Like he’s definitely not sure he believes in the spirits that Ilias regularly works with as a Koldun, but he’s willing to keep a relatively open mind. (He’s a bit less open-minded in Sascha’s belief in - and support of - Caine, given that he’s literally based his career around the metaphor theory!)
17. Which one uses cropped hentai as reaction images
Sascha.
They have troll tendencies, okay.
18. Does one of them kinkshame the other
There is absolutely no kinkshaming here. Listen Ilias was a Priest of Jarilo. Sascha was once on the Path of Pleasure too. Beckett seduced Dracula for information then forgot to ask his question. They’re all very open about everything.
There may be teasing about the odd hobby or interest but it’s pretty lighthearted.
19. Is one of them self conscious about their body? If so how does the other comfort them
Beckett occasionally has Moments over his hands and worries about hurting Sascha or something. They basically respond by being like “are you kidding the claws are hot as hell”. On occasion, Beckett will get one of them to Vicissitude them down if he wants to use his hands more, although they’ll regrow and be achey for a night or two afterwards.
20. Say they were cuddling on the bed while listening to record player playing the background. Which song is playing?
Honestly I want to say Third Eye by Florence + the Machine just for fic reasons. When I was writing Mantle I saw it very much as Beckett towards Sascha, but it fits with Ilias towards them as well.
I have no idea how they would have discovered F+tM but anyway.
23. What kinda joyrides do they go on? Relaxing ones or wild ones?
It. I imagine it usually involves police chases. When it doesn’t Beckett will occasionally go wolf so he can stick his head out the car window like :P
Shh don’t tell anyone.
25. Do people ever get annoyed of their pda
God probably. One of the main exceptions is Anatole, who’ll basically go, “Oh! Are we cuddling?” and flop on top of Beckett.
27. Which one’s the red, which one’s the blue
They’re all red. Fear. Ilias is probably closest to blue.
28. Are either of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope
Sascha has both PTSD (from Symeon and Michael, and from the Eldest) and C-PTSD (from being bound to the Dracon for literal centuries). Also depression and anxiety, which are... pretty common with those. See question 8 for some of the coping methods, the rest is just... taking each day as it comes. Like they’ve lived a very long time, but they only got free of the Dracon in 2006, so it’s still a very new thing.
Ilias has some trauma from some of the things he’s had to do to survive since waking up with the Thirst of Ages, and gets into guilt spirals on occasion. He mostly focuses on Path of Nocturnal Redemption methods to work through it; he’s kind of adverse to anyone seeing him vulnerable like that. He knows Sascha has done some awful shit, but they weren’t themself at the time so Ilias feels it doesn’t count, and Beckett is like, Humanity 6? He just doesn’t get it, so Ilias keeps it to himself.
Beckett has an odd, acquired one - his experiences in Jerusalem left him with the ability (if it could be called an ability!) to occasionally hear the Cobweb (the Malkavian Madness Network). While his connection isn’t nearly as strong as an actual Malkavian’s, he does get odd flashes of Insight; less helpfully, it can occasionally get, uh, loud in his head. This tends to ramp up a bit with proximity to Malkavians, so when he’s around Anatole, Anatole will help him filter the voices and thoughts out by teaching him meditation techniques. (Given that Anatole - correctly - feels responsible for Beckett being afflicted thus, he wants to make sure it doesn’t hit his lover too badly.)
29. Does one have a spot on them where they would melt when the other kisses them there
Give Beckett head scritchies and he’ll turn into a puddle :3
34. Are they a reckless couple or safe
*loud, prolonged laughter*
37. Do they get into fights often? If so what do they fight over and how do they make up?
Sascha and Ilias are usually... very chill; if they argue, it’s over the other’s safety, like Ilias wanting to do something reckless and Sascha being very much ‘please do not’. Sascha and Beckett argue a bit more, although thankfully they have now stopped trying to literally kill each other XD When they do, it’s usually ideological, related to Gehenna, Caine, et cetera. Sascha is still very much a part of the Sabbat, and Beckett is, well, basically an atheist.
40. Who would fight in honor for the other if someone would insult them
All three tbh. Here’s a fun bit from the novel:
Still really dig this bit from BJD, too!
No misgendering on Beckett’s watch!
42. How would one react if the other was to die
Uh.
Poorly.
Like most of Sascha’s sanity slippage was due to the Dracon’s essence being fused to their own and just how the Eldest... did that, but a good part of it was absolutely due to Ilias’ death.
43. Who dies first
...canonically, Ilias XD;;
It’s okay he gets better.
#vampire the masquerade#feral nerd#mx meat crimes#tzinnamon roll#caymanshipping#heartflowershipping#ivoryringshipping
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21, Indruck (for the Mermay minifics)
Note: Duck’s design is based on a Grouper (aka one of the strongest fish) and Indrid’s is based on an Oarfish.
Every mer in Kepler Cove knows not to go near the strange lights. Lights that glow bright orange or deep purple, flicker gold to green or fade from blue to silver. But Duck is desperate.
And so when night falls, and all sensible creatures are safe in their beds or dens or buried beneath the sand, he swims across the flat, empty patch of sand to the cave on the outskirts of town, green lights guiding his way tonight.
The house is cluttered with bottles and shells, with drawings and discarded pufferfish quills, and all around him the lights swirl. They’re solid when they bump him, but when he holds one in his hand, it isn’t an object his eyes understand.
It’s when he looks up to find two red lights, glowing more dimly than the others, staring him down that he remembers the warnings.
“Uh-”
“I am surprised to see you, Duck Newton. In most future, you decided on the prudent option and stayed far away.” The mer comes into view, his silvery tail, streaked with a red fin, matching his silver hair. The tail is much longer than Duck’s own, even though it ends in a standard fin. And he’s grinning. It’s not a Great White grin, but it doesn’t put Duck at ease.
“You gonna make me regret it? And how do you know-”
‘Your name” The mer says along with him, “I can see the future. Or futures, I suppose, churning and changing, flitting in and out of view like sardines in a school.” He circles Duck slowly, his form long and lean next to Duck’s, which is built for power and unassuming in it’s mottled green, black and white. He remembers the stories of sea serpents, of mers with strange tails and angular faces who would lure the unsuspecting out into the deep trenches, never to be seen again.
“Then you know-”
“-why you are here? I can see it coming, but perhaps you would like to tell me yourself.”
“Do you know what’s been happenin to folks around here?”
“The plague? Yes. I...I tried to warn your predecessor that such a thing might come on the tides. He chose not to listen. And now you are here, a new chosen guardian, forced to bear the results of his disregarding me.”
“There ain’t any record of you tellin him that.” Duck says cautiously.
“Is there mention of someone called Indrid Cold?”
“Yeah, now that you mention it.”
The mer points to himself without another word, then swims to his wall and removes several drawings, the images evaporating as he does.
“Oh. Uh, didn’t know that’s your name.”
“Of course not. Everyone calls me the witch. Or worse. And only the desperate would seek out a monster mer, and I watched the futures as you narrowed your options little by little until deciding on me. This spell” he catches a smaller light in his hand, “will produce a special plant that when ingested will cure those who are ill. But it will cost you.”
“Ah. You’re that kind of mer.” Duck crosses his arms with a roll of the eyes.
Indrid whirls, knocking lights aside as he hisses, “No, I am not. This is how magic of this caliber works. It cannot be given for nothing, no matter how much I wish I could do just that. I do not desire anything from my fellow creatures other than peace and respect, and yet I must demand a great deal to deliver what they ask of me. The choice is yours, Duck Newton; seek my help or do not, but do not act as though I am some predator laying in wait in the dark.” He flicks his tail dismissively, goes back to what must be his desk, fin tense as he waits for Duck to respond.
Duck looks at the spell, “What’s the price?”
“Ask it.” Indrid sighs, jerking his tail towards the spell.
Duck gazes at the light, repeats the question, and gets a flash of two luminous red pearls.
“Ah fuck, those only turn up in the oysters near the damn Nettle Eels.”
“Unfortunate.” Indrid continues drawing, back resolutely towards him, “if you decide to attempt it, bring the asked for items here. Only then can you release the spell.” His fin is limp now, his shoulders sag.
“I’ll do my best. And, uh, Mr. Cold?”
“Indrid is fine.”
“I believe you. About it not bein’ your doin’.”
With that, he swims back to town. But as he glances over his shoulder, still not certain if Indrid is dangerous, the other man is watching him. When he notices Duck has turned to look at him, he lifts his hand in shy wave farewell.
--------------------------------------------
“You still got that spell?”
Indrid turns, knowing what he’ll see yet smiling all the same when he does; Duck Newton, arms clearly stinging, with two red pearls in his hands. He retrieves the spell, takes the stones and places them with other items the magic has demanded. As soon as Duck touches the spell, the light bursts into a thousand little specks.
“It is done. The grove of plants should be ready by the time you return to your home.”
“Thank fuck.” Duck slumps against the wall. Then he holds out his hand.
Indrid cocks his head, perplexed. Duck makes an awkward sound in the back of his throat, hand returning to his side.
“I just, uh, wanted to say thanks. For helpin’ me. Lotta people are gonna be alive because of you.”
“More would be if I had convinced your predecessor of the severity of the plague.”
“Hey now” Duck swims closer, and Indrid finds he has no instinct to back away, “he was a dipshit. Don’t gotta take the blame for that.” He holds out his hand again, and this time Indrid takes it, shaking it. Duck smiles when he does.
As the other man swims towards the exit, he pauses, “There was another spell, wasn’t there? One that woulda cured it without the plant step.”
Indrid swallows, “Yes.”
“What was the price?”
‘I believe it requires a stone from the valley surrounded by the mer-eating eels. The one, ah, almost no one returns from.”
“That’s what I thought. Thanks, Indrid. Thanks for lookin out for me.”
Indrid wishes he could curl his tail all the way around him so he no longer has to deal with the sensation of Duck looking at him with unfamiliar kindness.
“You are welcome. If you ever need my assistance, you know where to find me.”
---------------------------------
“Damn thing bit straight through my sword. Minerva’s too.”
Indrid examines the snapped metal, then begins swimming between the lights, “Do you think an increased offensive capability or a defensive one will be better for ridding the reef of the Giant Scorpionfish?”
“Ain’t sure, futures don’t happen to have any clues?”
Indrid pauses, tail waving lazily, then shakes his head, “it seems the two show about the same outcomes of success.”
“In that case, let’s go with somethin’ that’ll keep us safe while fightin it. Don’t really feel like havin some super-powerful weapon floatin around after this is done.”
Indrid picks a golden light from the air, hands it to Duck. This time, he doesn’t immediately move away, instead waits for him to learn the price.
Duck shuts his eyes, gets an image of deep blue eggs. Then he shivers, Indrid’s tail having brushed along his by accident.
“Eagle Ray eggs. Do you think it wants all of ‘em? Seems kinda rude to take the whole nest.”
“Hmmmm, looking at the futures, it seems two or three will suffice.”
“Gotcha. It may think that’s some tricky quest, but I happen to know where a lot of different nests are around here. I’ll be back in an hour.”
----------------------------------------------------
“Got your message, you said a tidal storm was comin?”
“Yes, we have about five hours at maximum before it hits here. I already found the protection spell and learned the price, to expedite things. It wants a black pearl, a rare red sea flower, and gold from a sunken ship.” Indrid swims back and forth between drawings, erasing and recreating as the futures change.
“Fuck, okay. Uh, I’m allowed to have help, right?’
“Of course.”
“I’ll send Juno after the flower, Dani and Aubrey can help her. And Ned’s real good at findin gemstones in a hurry. I know there’s a wreck about a two mile swim thataway, but it’s been picked over.”
“I may be able to help; we can use my powers to locate the stray, remaining gold. Come, there is no time to lose.” He darts out of the cave and Duck follows him, watches the light glint off his scales, the way his body twists and speeds through the water.
Even if they fail, at least his last mission will have had a hell of a view.
-------------------------------------
“‘Drid, I was wonderin if you...uh, didn’t know you had pets.”
“I do not. Or, ah, I did not, The Eagle Ray eggs hatched. The spells almost never want animals, so it never occurred to me that the eggs would remain viable--AH! Careful with that, I know you are getting used to your wings but those are fragile. Anyway, what do you need?”
“Not a spell, but could you use your future vision to see if the issues with the Kelp fields are gonna lead to somethin bigger?’
“Why Duck, are you really giving me the honor of being an advisor to a Chosen?”
“ Damn right I am. Also that ray is chewin on your desk chair.”
“AH!”
-----------------------------------------
“Hey ‘Drid, can I uh, um, I need some help.”
“Of course, let me just finish feeding Spot and Speckle their dinner. Is it a spell or a future?”
“Uh, it’s, uh, fuck, a, uh, spell? Yeah, a uh, fuck, spell. I need some help findin my, uh, fuck, keys? No, fuck, I mean-”
“You don’t have a reason for coming, do you.”
“Nope.”
“There is no need to lie about one. Wanting to visit is reason enough. You are welcome here any time, my friend.”
------------------------
“Nice, ain’t it?” Duck stretches out on the warm rock, sun soaking into his chest.
“Mmmmmhmmm.” Indrid hums beside him, long tail draped off the edge and into the water.
“You said you don’t come up here much.”
“I had some run-ins with sailors I tried to warn off oncoming disasters. I became a bit of a local legend, an omen of doom, and so decided it was best to lay low.” The words are detached, but Duck rolls over to find Indrid staring wistfully up at the sky, “I do enjoy it up here. I like watching the stars, seeing all the snippets of a new and different world. Some days I think I love the surface as much as I love home. Perhaps that is silly.”
Duck rolls onto his side, “Ain’t nothin silly about lovin’ somethin’ incredible. I mean look” he points the forest, the tangle of green looking down on the shore from the hills, “look at that. How does it grow? What lives there? There’s so much to know about nature, up top and below.”
Indrid is on his side now as well, “Thank you. It is nice to know I am not alone. In, ah, in my thoughts, that is.”
Duck reaches for his hand, and when Indrid scoots close enough to give it, Duck presses their tails together. Indrid sighs at the contact, and soon his tail is draped over Duck’s, his fingers tracing abstract patterns up and down Duck’s arm.
“‘Drid? Would, uh, would you ever wanna maybe...move closer to town? I know Barclay’s been visitin more, Dani too. Seems like you’re startin to know more folks in town. There’s, uh, a house near mine that just opened up. We could be neighbors?” The note when his voice turns up at the end is steeped in vulnerable hope that he prays Indrid can’t hear.
Red eyes regard him, “No, Duck. I do not think I could be. I am a solitary creature. The spells I help usher into the world and keep safe can be dangerous in their demands, attract dangerous beings in search of them. I ought to remain so, more for the sake of whoever wishes to be close to me than for my own.”
“But-”
“I need to return home. Farewell, Duck.” He slithers off the rock, and by the time Duck is in the water there’s only a flash of silver, disappearing into the darkness on the edge of town.
------------------------------------------------
“Barclay, you seen ‘Drid lately?”
“Uh huh, saw him yesterday when I ran some food over. I wanted him to try my new red snapper wraps.”
“Oh. So he’s, uh, fine then?”
“Seems to be. Why?”
“The last few times I gone to see him, he ain’t been home. I’m worried I mighta done somethin’ to offend him.”
“Nah, I bet it’s just a run of bad timing. Indrid likes you more than anyone else on this reef.”
“...If I send someone else to get spells or info, he’s always there.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
---------------------------------------
“Mr. Cold, I am here on the utmost urgent business.”
“Hello to you too, Ned, and Indrid is fine. What is…” He sees the oncoming answer and blanches from top to tail with fear.
“Duck is ill?”
“He hasn’t been able to get out of bed for a week. Barely consumes food or drink. The lovely Dani took a look at him, but it does not seem to be an ailment know to her.”
“Show me the way to him. Please.” Indrid follows Ned, and the lights follow Indrid, his foresight not showing him enough to know which spell may be needed. They wind through town, whispers darting from house to house as they do.
The night is only made worse by what he discovers when he reaches Duck’s side.
“He is heartsick. That is why Dani was unable to find means of healing him. Only one exists.”
“One of your, like, spells?” Aubrey asks hopefully, red tail twitching with worry.
“No. It can only be cured with a kiss from one who loves him. Romantically, I should add, as the illness is brought on by a romantic love that one tries to repress or destroy. Do any of you know someone who loves Duck that way?”
All heads in the room shake. He sighs, “May I have a moment of privacy to think?”
When they’re alone, he strokes Duck’s brow, tail curling protectively around him without him truly meaning too.
Then he leans down and plants a single, tender kiss to Duck’s lips.
Mismatched eyes flutter open.
“‘Oh thank goodness.”
“Fuck, whole body feels like I just got over the fin-pox.” Duck rolls his shoulders. Indrid realizes he hasn’t moved away from him, can’t bring himself to do so.
“‘Drid? Did, uh, did you just kiss me?”
“I, I did. I am sorry, it was the only-”
He’s yanked into the bed, one hand tangled in his hair as the other traps their hips together. Ducks tail flaps excitedly and Indrid’s curls around it as many times as he can.
“I tried so fuckin hard, darlin, I thought you were angry with me, or that you were pushin me away for my own good, and as much as I missed you I didn’t wanna push you so I tried not to think about you, but, but I, I just started feelin’ sicker and sicker whenever I pushed thoughts of you away.
“Oh my, love, I am sorry. I only meant to keep you safe. I never meant to hurt you so.”
“It ain’t your doin’; I’m the dipshit who couldn’t tell you how I felt. I know you didn’t want to be with anyone-”
“-you are right, I thought it would be dangerous. But, well, in the last few weeks, I have realized that while my powers make for an oft-dangerous time, so does your position in the reef. And I, I missed you terribly. I want to be by your side, Duck Newton, if you will still have me.”
Duck runs a firm hand down his tail, grinning brighter than the lights still spinning around them, “You know, darlin, I think I’ll do just that.”
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“You’re Not Alone”
Word Count: 1,535
Kiri x Hien
Post ShB / Some Spoilers
Previously, “Welcome Back”
Next: Light Upon the Lost
Last: Stand by Me
Doma was beautiful when the blossoms were in full bloom. Bursts of delightful pink that scattered on the breeze, falling as if raindrops around her. Sunshine broke through the branches in dazzling curtains, much like rays of light piercing the surface of the ocean. Alive and warm, dancing and shifting with the current and the wind.
At her feet, a blanket of fallen blossoms that dusted the stonework of the enclave. She knelt to pluck one, to feel the silk soft petals between her fingertips. If she had been given the means, surely she would have gathered them all in her arms and tossed them over head, to be caught on the wind and set free once more.
“Kirishimi?” A voice beckoned.
In response she rose with eyes alight. She knew the voice now. So well, like a tune one simply does not forget. With it stirred a beating in her chest and a tightness in her lungs, excitement.
Hien was calling for her.
Yet when mismatched eyes came to rest upon his image there was no smile painted across his lips, or a laugh that echoed. Instead his body pitched forward and brought him to his knees writhing in pain.
All at once her world shifted. A candle snuffed out. Cerulean blue skies that stretched miles overhead in an instant became heavy with ebony ink. The sun was a fiery eclipse, an eye opening and glaring down upon her. The petals of lost blossoms nothing more than cottony white feathers.
Ice filled her veins. Her skin felt alive, slithering like serpents and constricting her. The air grew heavy with soot and ash, a familiar scent that made her gag. Carried on the wind she could make out distant cries, women and children alike screaming out for mercy.
It was Holminster Switch all over again.
“Hie-!!” A failure of her voice produced bile. Splattered at her feet, like pearls liquefied, the familiar telltale sign of the light and its scourge rotting her from the inside.
Another try, desperate to call his name. More putrid substance welled on her tongue and spilled over her lips.
“Kirishimi, why?” Hien’s voice became a whisper against the din of rupturing fires and collapsing buildings. Kirishimi looked up through tear strained eyes, horrified to see the once prince of Doma now tainted by the light; a mess of contorted limbs and twitching wings.
“All you know how to do is survive...” A whisper at her ear. The voice itself was unfamiliar but it made Kirishimi shiver. Death itself would have been a pleasure to hear instead.
Fear permeated her body. As if the sickening rot from the light hadn’t been enough. Now her own muscles betrayed her; a mind begging her not to look at the owner of this hushed tone. So delicate it came but felt no less than ice.
“Others die... but we survive.”
- - -
Thunder cracked in the distance.
Kiri jolted at the sound, having felt as if shaken awake by the din. Panic had her heart pounding in her ears while she gasped for air, no longer choking on the stagnant light that filled her mouth like blood but moments ago. Despite the humidity in the air, thanks to the approaching thunderstorm and a window left open, she couldn’t control the violent shaking in her hands; the ice that skimmed her skin and chilled her to her core. She drew herself close, knees to her chest as a sob croaked in her throat.
Another dream. A nightmare that haunted her. Tears spilled down the crest of her cheeks, dampening her blanket and getting caught in her lashes.
She was many things; strong, determined, kind, and cheerful. But alone? When the darkness whispered corrosive taunts and belittled her beneath closed eyes? She was weak, broken, and above all else, scared. The thought of giving her life up for the people of the First hadn’t even been a question at the time, she would have gladly given it and more. Of course it terrified her, she was only mortal, after all. But with death no longer looming over head and a future restored... What then was it that scared her so?
A knock rasped at the door and suddenly she was made aware of her surroundings. The bedding beneath and around her was unfamiliar but soft and plush, even as it was laid out on the floor. Faint light accompanied with the occasional flash of lightning came in through a window, illuminating just enough of the room around her to tell she was not in Eorzea.
“Kirishimi, are you awake?” A whisper breathed through the door had the Dragoon feeling light headed. So... She really had run off to Doma?
With a hand knotting through snowy locks and a sigh at her lips, she returned the whisper. “Yes. Come in.”
Softly the door peeled back and light poured in, temporarily blinding her as it absorbed the long stretches of shadow and ate the gloom. A gentle, ever so tiny flickering flame of a lit candle, casting dancing shadows across Hien’s features. He closed the door quietly behind him, the paper doors here in Doma so light they hardly made a sound to begin with.
Greeted with a light smile, twisted as it was by the candles light, Kirishimi swore the ice that pricked her skin had begun to melt. Still, she drew her blankets close and turned her gaze elsewhere.
He was speechless while he observed the room. The blankets tossed about and twisted around her, the mess of her hair in knots from thrashing, and her shivering frame. The young lord sat himself down by the door where he stood, the candle carefully placed to the side.
“You look awful.” Hien spoke with the lightest touch of a laugh in his voice; half teasing but honest.
“How many times do I gotta suffer hearin’ that today?” She groaned, resting her forehead on the tops of her knees.
“Today?” He repeated in surprise. “Kirishimi... I don’t believe you’ve had visitors today.” To this the woman tilted her head just enough to peer at him through knotted locks. “Well, never mind that for now. How are you fairing?”
“Said so yerself, I look awful. Sums up how I feel...” Awful felt like a gross understatement. Hideous and vile? More accurate. She felt as though snakes wore her skin and she, nothing more than a grotesque puppet. Although the First had been restored and the Lightwardens vanquished... how much longer would she have to endure this maddening disease of the mind? That every slight creak of her bones or twist of her stomach had her weary the light had returned. The feeling she was still a threat to those around her. Toxic.
“Kirishimi,” Hien moved to take her hand in his, stretching the small distance between them, but hesitated when she flinched. His voice faltered before he swallowed. “You needn’t explain what took place on your journey, if that is your desire, but please allow me to be of some assistance? I will lend you my ear and shoulder if that is your wish. You need not shy from me.”
Even in the dim light Kiri saw the glimmer of sorrow in his steady gaze. Had he felt as helpless in this as she was? He endeavored to inspire her once before, at Ghimlyt Dark, with honey sweet words about a favorable future for everyone. But for this? The enormity of all she had gone through, what she and the other Warriors of Darkness, had survived; how did one even begin to provide succor?
His smile wavered when her response was silence. A roll of distant thunder echoed between them.
“I- ... Uh, I will let you sleep, then.” Hien’s tone had changed. It made her heart ache. The hand he had so nearly used to reach for her own now searched instead for the candle at his side.
Then stopped.
Her hand, calloused as it was, took his and squeezed. He was warm; a strong burning fire in the dead of winter. Kirishimi drew his hand toward herself and pressed her forehead to his knuckles.
“I don’t wanna hurt anyone,” With her head lowered and hair obscuring her features from his view, Kiri allowed the wrenching feeling in her chest to take control. Her lips quivered on stammered words, tears causing the colors of the room to bleed together. She hiccuped with hushed crying. “But I don’t wanna be alone!”
The hand she held, damp with tears, moved to cup her cheek. Such heat generated from a simple touch; it felt like fire against her ice kissed flesh. She pressed her cheek into his palm, too afraid to look at the man before her. Vulnerable and broken had never been her forte. It made her feel weak, ill suited to be a Warrior of Light but... It also made her feel human.
“You are never alone, Kirishimi.”
With another crash of thunder outside, Hien pulled the Dragoon close, snatching the blanket as an afterthought and drawing it around her still shaking shoulders. Carefully he reached over and snuffed out the candle between his index finger and thumb.
#|| Untold Stories#|| Tiger Prince & the Stray#hey I vomited more#idk what this is#more Kiri angst after ShB?#also slight hints at other things in Kiri's life#don't worry it's probably lame compared to whatever you guys all think lmao#also Hien just wants to make sure she's ok#WHAT A GOOD FUTURE HUSBAND#hien x wol#hien x kiri#lord hien#prince hien#ffxiv writing#gif warning
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