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4riadne · 1 year

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Safe & Sound (j.m)

joel miller x fem! reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: settling into Jackson isn't as easy as one would think, Joel battles with finding peace within the safety of Jackson's walls.

warnings: angst and fluff

(a/n): for my little war criminal old man bbg xx -lana

GIF by vera-kozhemiakina

Joel doesn’t like it here. He doesn’t like how easily you’ve settled into Jackson. It’s only been a six months since you all decided to stay in Jackson— and the way you, even Ellie, let your guards down so easily here unnerves him. He especially doesn’t like how he feels more on edge now than he’s ever been, a lot to say considering the things he’s been through.

He stares as you dance with some guy who bothered to ask when Joel had made it clear that he wasn’t. He’s never seen you so at ease. Your hair is undone and wavy from its usual braid. Even your clothes, the dress you wear is so impractical. He knows he should take it as a sign that he can unwind as well, but he can’t. What if you needed him, what if something happened?

He feels like he’s stuck waiting for something to go wrong, for this play of domesticity you’ve settled into to end.

After the song ends you drift back to his side, inserting yourself under his arm as you wrap around him. A content smile on your face as he asks if you had fun and as you whisper back, “I woulda had more if it was you spinning me around.”

It feels like the calm before the storm.

Every waking morning by your side, your form wrapped in one of his shirts.

He always wakes up earlier than you with a small start, but he stays in bed until your lashes flutter open. He likes that. When you’re near him and he can touch you. For however long he wants.

That next morning starts the way he always likes it to, you roll over onto your back to look up at him with a groan. Like you’re mad at even the idea of not being asleep right now. He adjusts his hold on you to make you feel more comfortable as you place a hand on the nape of his neck, fingers clawing through his hair. “You need a haircut soon, Miller.”

But it’s something about this morning that’s different, he doesn’t feel that racing in his veins anymore and it’s replaced by something else hollow. He shakes his head dismissively at your comment as he presses a kiss to your forehead. A smile graces your lips as you pull up the blanket before pulling him into a kiss. It’s messy and heated, your leg pressing into his side to bring him in even closer. When he pulls away strings of saliva form to your dismay as you scrunch your nose. Joel hasn’t said anything yet, eyes crinkling at the sides in a smile as you grimace in disgust.

“Okay what’s with the staring, huh?” You return his gaze with narrowed eyes as you press your forehead to his.

“Nothin’” He mumbles, brushing your nose with his before slanting his mouth against yours. You protest despite your eager return, pulling away with a sniff. You look at him tenderly, brushing back unruly strands from his hairline before resting your hand on his cheek. He presses a kiss to your palm instead of answering as you roll your eyes.

“You’re being so weird,” You widen your eyes playfully as you smile. “Are you gonna say why?”

“Nope.”

Joel sits up on the edge of the bed as you watch on your propped up elbow. He is being weird, but you don’t press on the topic anymore. It’s only until he turns back to you that he sees your mind racing, the gears turning behind your eyes. He wonders what you’re thinking, he always is. There’s always something you want to say, and on the rare times you don’t blurt it out, he’s left wondering.

You're still this enigma to him. And he supposes the same applies for him to you. Even though sometimes he feels like you’re the only person who really understands him. The only one who can. You know just when to push and pull with him, a special power of yours as Ellie calls it.

Sometimes he wonders what life would’ve been like if you’d come into his life in a world where all of this hadn’t happened. Even though, past Joel isn’t who he is now. He sometimes thinks you deserve that version of him, the softer, unhardened, and unburdened Joel. The one who would’ve bought you flowers on your first date and introduced you to Sarah while being a nervous wreck. Instead you’re stuck with this version of himself, the one whose stuck in survival mode even in the safety of Jackson.

Just as you look like you’re about to say something, you stop yourself with a shake of your head and get up. Joel still sits on the edge of the bed as you return from the bathroom and start changing, wordlessly watching you. When you finally approach him, you stand between his legs and cradle his head between your hands. He rests his hands on your hips, hooking his thumb into one of the belt loops of the jeans you put on.

“I love you, you know.” He nods between your grip. And he does, he knows. He does too, but you like to say it. He’s only said it a few times, before you slip into sleep or when you really need him to but you’re not saying it and he can tell. For a split second he thinks it’s one of those times but from the way you look at him, it isn’t.

Finally, you lick your lips, “Whatever’s been on your mind lately, you can tell me.”

He opens his mouth to dismiss it, but you’re too quick and too familiar with him to even let him get it out. “And there is something, spare me that bullshit. You’re always staring at me or at Ellie like you- You can trust me, y’know.”

“I know.”

You nod once before pressing a kiss to his hairline. You’re out the door before he even realises it, like you’ve given up your resolve in finding out what he’s thinking. Usually you fight him back more, and he doesn’t like how things have changed. He almost wants you to tear it out of him, to have you dig your heels into the ground. Usually it’s him walking away to escape your conviction, but it’s not. It’s uncharted territory and now he doesn’t know what to do. The carpet’s been pulled out from under him.

Joel’s scared. He can admit it. At least to himself. Of losing you, losing Ellie. He’s always struggled with the idea of failing the two of you, but now that the ways you could leave him have narrowed, he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do with how overwhelming his feelings are. He was needed before, even if you two were capable on your own, he was. He’s not anymore.

He should be happy about that, that you’re all safe, that he doesn’t always need to be on guard now. But he isn’t, and he hates that.

You’re back in the room for some reason, and your eyes soften when you realise he’s still in the same position. His eyes glance down at the woven tray of food you’re carrying. You set it aside as you take a seat next to him. “Ellie’s awake if you want to eat all together.” Your touch is gentle as you tuck a piece of his hair behind his ear.

“I’m scared, baby,” He says finally.

It’s clear it takes you by surprise from the way you halt before nodding, your eyes all soft and warm on him. Just full of understanding and love, it gives him the strength to try and speak. Even if he’s never been good at words. Or emotions. Something about the way you look at him makes him feel at ease, even if he couldn’t ever fully let go. Even if he spends the rest of your lives waiting for something to happen, for the other shoe to drop. He’d be happy to, so long as you kept looking at him like that, so long as you kept trying to understand.

So long as you were by his side.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #tlou series #pedro pascal #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #fluff #emotional joel miller #maybe angst #by lana

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a-gay-little-cat · 3 months

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tell us about tiger..... top 10 tiger facts #please

I present to you, him!

But let's start out with the basics before moving to facts. His name is Tiger, 41 years old, 7ft tall, trans man and currently a mercenary in Night City! This one's getting long so it goes under a read more but here you go!

He is a nomad. Buuuut... he doesn't run with any clan anymore, not by choice though. Roughly 10 years ago he lost his camp in a fire thanks to some corps or god knows who deciding to beef it out right near their camp, not really caring about people getting caught in the crossfire. Many died and those who survived scattered, maybe to join another clan, maybe to a different city, but Tiger doesn't really know. He very much returned repeatedly to see if anyone else would still be there, hoping to find his family which he didn't see with the other bodies. Never found anyone though, not alive at least. Tiger also lost his husband in all of that, taking the ring of his body and still carrying it with him. Being a guy with nothing to his name now, he set out to NC, city closest to where they were camping at the time and just kinda... let himself be taken along, never quite processing any of that, not wanting to face his grief. He did very much consider trying to join in with another group but also it felt.. wrong? He just could never bring himself to. But all of this also very much does lead to him struggling with being a nomad, is he really one still if he isn't moving with a clan? Especially faced with this when he and V encounter the Aldecaldos. Which is a whole other thing I could talk about but damn this first fact is getting long !!!! Also I've never quite settled on which of the Big 7 his group belonged to... At least I think its 7 big names n theres all these little subsections... Gots to sniff my little lore book again some time.

He has a niece! Which he didn't know until recently. A little bit of a happy development after the first fact is that his parents and sister did actually make it out alive, but it wouldn't be until a few years later once Tiger made a name for himself with boxing that they'd find him. In the time they were seperated his sister had a daughter, Ellie. And by god does he love his niece dearly. He spoils her rotten and she loves her uncle so much, thinks he's the coolest.

Tiger is a mechanic/engineer. His interest has always been cars and engines and you've got to keep stuff running around the camp somehow. If your car is making a weird noise, your motorcycle isn't starting or your generators are acting funky, he can fix it. Tiger loves anything mechanical. Anything hardware related he loves messing with. Computers may not be his expertise as much but he loves learning and trying new things.

He is an ex-animals member. Tiger was easily scooped up by the animals, hard to miss a guy like that and he's already got the whole big cat theme going on so he fit right in. Things wouldn't always go smoothly though and eventually he turned into a guinea pig for them to test new and cool concoctions for enhancement which very much very experimental. But he wasn't aware of that, it happened gradually and without him really noticing. His sister very much did pick up on him behaving odd and differently, looking sickly and all that which resulted in her hiring mercenaries to invesitage for her. It wasn't an easy job for them but they did find evidence and it didn't take much to convince Tiger to leave. And leave he did. Safe to say he and the rest of the animals are not on good terms.

He loves cooking!!!! Nothing like a good hearty meal to keep you happy and healthy!

Tiger very much picked his name at a young age. He always loved reading about big cats, fascinated by them. His interest resulted in his parents calling him their little tiger as nickname but it just stuck and he loved it so much. To him its like his parents picking his new name, in a way.

He knows its cheesy, tacky and over the top to have a lot of things on his body be themed after a tiger, leaning into all of that but it makes him happy. The tail, his truck, his clothing, a lot is influenced by that. Though obviously he doesn't only build his identity around that, but its a big part of him that brings him joy.

Because I've seen someone bring it up in the tags on one of my art pieces of him. Tiger can't purr, he considered having something like that done but no, he chuffs, like a tiger does. One could say its a vocal stim. Most of the time he does it in greeting, to agree with something or when he's happy. Little happy noise.

The tail isn't just for looks, a lot of his cyberware very much serves a purpose outside of being just for looks. Tiger works together with his ripper to have the cyberware do exactly what he wants. The tail helps with balance but can also be used to hit someone or grab onto something. He has full control over it but it does also idly move to reflect his emotions or reactions.

His truck is called Leviathan. The truck in question:

It was lost for a little while because it broke down on the way to NC, he didn't have the needed tools to fix it so he had to abandon it, as much as it hurt. Returning to the spot he left it at it was just gone and he was unable to track it down. Very much took from the nomad specific quest in game here but yea the geolocation pinged again and he was able to find it again.

In summary:

#tiger #my ocs #ERM. HI THIS GOT A LITTLE LENGTHY AND THATS ME TRYING TO NOT RAMBLE ON.#I HOPE U ENJOY

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postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 3 years

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I decided to watch the Walker pilot so you don’t have to. #1

I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I’m doing this and the more I put it off the less I’ll want to do this. So. Let’s start.

The fist thing we see is Jared Padalecki, em Walker, driving. He’s vaguely smiling and there’s the sun behind him. He seems happy. He’s driving a truck, for some reason my mind goes to Twilight. I’d rather watch that. At least there are vampires (not dressed like clowns) there. Anyway. Walker is meeting someone. He’s meeting his wife! “Look at you!” she says. The camera makes us look at him. He looks like this

I am unsure whether we’re supposed to see this as sexy or cool. It looks frankly ridiculous. I don’t know if I’m just not American enough to appreciate the aesthetic of this. But I didn’t go through 15 seasons of Americana-in-British-Columbia for nothing. If a character appeared like this on Supernatural, it wouldn’t be presented seriously. It would be played for a chuckle or in a light-hearted way at least. Not even Dean Winchester would find this hot.

The Padaleckis tell something to each other. Apparently he needs to go home with the kids and his parents because it’s game night. My mind immediately goes to Game Night the episode and I am sad now. But Walker lifts my mood in its own weird way. He doesn’t know the rules because every time she tells him the rules, he blacks out. I would make a fun quip about this, but the truth is that I relate to him a lot right now because I blacked out during the entire scene. I’m not sure what they said other than the game thing because I wrote it here. I already forgot the rest.

Anyway. What we’re supposed to get from this scene that they’re Very In Love (see that soft warm light?), and that he’s anxious because he’s not great at being a father because he’s shit at games apparently, but his wife is like ~don’t worry so much~ because she’s a kind, understanding wife. He tells her to be safe, because the Texan countryside is dangerous or something. She needs to stay on a route he approved for some reason. Is she traveling with supersoldier serum in her car? Is Hydra going to murder her? [cue the Marvel snipers shooting me to death because they don’t want Marvel to be associated to this]

Later, everyone is having fun playing fake monopoly, but Walker (whose mannerism is just Jared, he’s not even trying) is apparently too stupid to understand a game for kids. Plot twist, this is anti-cop propaganda because it says cops are dumb.

“Et tu Brute” Jared says when the kids point out he broke a rule so they get an extra turn. I thought I was safe from hearing Jared speak Latin! I thought I was safe! I am never safe!

Emily (Gen) suddenly texts him “SOS. Answer” which is OMINOUS! Oh my god! Aren’t you feeling the tension. The rest of the family keeps playing fake monopoly. Someone throws dice. Are we supposed to go “oh! The dice are ~symbolic because someone’s playing dice with her life” or have I been watching too much good tv.

She is running somewhere in the countryside, wearing a white shirt (is this the cowboy lady equivalent of the Wife Nightgown?). She says something is not right. He’s worried. Then he hears gunshot and her scream. He does the Alarmed Jared face, presses lips together and does a Upset Jared face.

Then he goes out, tries to call her again, and again, does a Jared Upset Sniff--

Oh! We actually see her! She’s alive, but she’s been shot in the stomach. Her white shirt is definitely the cowboy lady equivalent of the Wife Nightgown! Ah the blood coming from the stomach! How terrible! Her phone is ringing but she cannot reach it. She is definitely alive right now, though. She’s breathing heavily because of the wound, which is breathing, which is the opposite of being dead.

He decides that she’s dead, and lets out the already infamous manly scream of anguish.

It would be sad if it wasn’t that literally one second ago we saw her wounded but alive. Her turning out alive in the season finale or so will shock everyone. Nobody will have seen it coming. Who wrote this? They should have just shown the ringing phone and her bloody hand/side, making the audience assume she was dead, instead of showing her breathing. Now the audience is gonna assume she didn’t actually die, and wonder “why didn’t he call someone or went looking for her” but apparently Jared’s characters have forgotten that, like, ambulances are a thing. Jared’s manly screams of anguish are more important than common sense.

I’m not going to say anything about the manly scream of anguish. I’m not going to say anything about the manly scream of anguish. I’m n

We’re just 4 minutes in, guys. Why am I doing this?

Eleven months later, says the screen.

It’s night, outside a house. The son is waiting for him. The daughter doesn’t think he’s coming. On the porch there are two men, one is his brother and one is apparently his former partner, now new boss. He’s dressed like you’d expect a normal person to be dressed in a casual Texan night, hat and tie and all. If you are law enforcement in Texas and don’t wear a cowboy hat at any moment, you will be executed. That’s what the death penalty in Texas is for.

Somebody arrives, but to the kids’ disappointment is some dude whose function is to tell us the men’s names. The brother is Liam, the cop dude I forgot.

Walker is being sad on the back of his truck and drinking alcohol, which is the only way television can express a man having trauma. Holy shit - he reminisces of his wife like this is some emotional Lord of the Rings scene in a place where Elves live except this is not the Lord of the Rings and is just ridiculous, look

She’s seen running towards the gazebo, then she turns

This is exactly shot like the scene where Arwen has a vision of her son. Flowy hair and all. I cannot take this seriously.

He smiles sadly. Then a cop car arrives.

Mexican Lady Cop(TM), whose function in the story is to be a Mexican Lady Cop(TM) asks for his licence since he’s drinking alcohol in a public place.

“You ask so nicely” drunk Walker says. Ew. “Yeah, they train the girls special” Oh! Can you see? She is the Feminist Icon who Takes No Shit from the Dude! I’m so excited. I am slowly losing the will to live.

She drives him home on the police car. His legs don’t fit. At least this is realistic.

He does exposition in the car, including “I needed to visit a ghost instead”. There-there was no need to say it. What’s the demographic they’re aiming for? Five year olds? Do they have to spell everything out loud?

“It’s been a while since I had an actual conversation” he says, which supposedly explains why he’s making awkward exposition, but it’s just bad writing. At least they acknowledge it’s bad writing.

She figures he’s law enforcement coming back from an undercover mission from some drunken ramble he makes. This is worse than the Sherlock phone cable port thing.

She says she just got promoted from state trooper, ehe she will work with him wink wink nudge nudge. Is she going to be a cop-buddy-character slash love interest except when they’re almost about to realize they’re into each other, his wife comes back and draa~ama? I can already see it.

He goes home, makes some Jared grunts, and falls asleep on the couch.

Next morning, he goes out and jogs to where he left the truck. He puts on a cowboy hat which is supposed to be an artistic shot.

I’m slowly dying. He makes some Jared Deep Breaths, at least this made me laugh.

Wait, he’s now wearing a black hat. He’s in mourning, see? What.

He drives to his father’s ranch. His father is Super Not Impressed. It’s awkward. They took about horses. Mitch Pileggi is thinking that at least the other show was more exciting and there was Jensen Ackles in it.

He gets into his parents’ house and the dogs run to him, he does the Jared Dog Chuckle. He hugs his mom. He hugs his son - “August, my boy!” he says, like a normal person his age says.

He hugs his brother and they joke-wrestle and he says “I’m still the big brother” and did I mention I’m dying inside. I just can tell this is SUPPOSED to be reminiscent of Dean and Sam’s first meeting at Stanford in the pilot except Jared is the big brother now. Ew.

We learn that the brother is a DA and gay. All pilots suffer from Forced Exposition Syndrome but it’s like this isn’t even trying.

He goes to work and hugs (very manly hug of course) his friend-now-boss, who is called James. James asks him if he’s good and he’s like yeah I’m good, which our I’m Fine Lie Moment #1. Some things never change.

Enter the case of the week - a cop offered roadside assistance but he was assaulted. We’re already starting with a “Oh No Poor Cop :( Someone Doesn’t Like Cops And Gets Violent” plot. Yay.

Ta-da! Mexican Lady Cop appears, cowboy hat and all. James says she’s Walker’s new partner. My heart cries while Walker says “figured you’d be a guy” and she replies “so did my mom”. The feminism is so strong :’) She’s such a strong female character :’) I’m so happy :’)

Then Walker makes such a quintessential Jared thing with his mouth that I need to stop this here and take a break.

It’s been 13 minutes. So much still to go. I’m bored. Why am I doing this.

#cw's jared: legit texan #marghe watches walker for some darned reason

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mtfstuff · 3 years

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Detective Mark

It was largely a standard mission. To infiltrate and arrest criminals and drug dealers. Not a big thing.

The problem is that they've managed to get their hands on one of those body possession machines. Thats how they managed to get out of prison. According to the latest report, they have taken teenagers in possession. After that mission everything changed, but let me tell you about it from the start.

I was making myself something to eat as my boss walked in to talk to me.

"I got a new mission for you, Mark. Top secret, if you agree to do it.", he said.

"I'm listening. What should I do?", I answered.

"Criminals escaped the prison. Kenny Miller and Dan Schwarz. You know them?"

"Of course. I was the one who brought them behind bars. How did they escape?"

"Body possession. They got two guards which we later found unconscious 2 miles next to the prison."

"And my mission is to arrest them?"

"Roughly, yes. According to our latest reports they've managed to possess bodies of teenagers on a high school to start selling drugs again."

Now I knew what he wanted.

"I wont do that. You know I'm not into that.", I said.

"Top secret, remember Mark. You're in.", he answered with a grin.

I let out a deep breath.

"Who will I take over?", I asked.

"The adoptive son of my dead sister. He goes to the same school and was friends with the possessed victims. He is ready, so if you could follow me."

My boss walks away and I follow him through a door into the next room. The machine took almost the entire space of the room and by the looks of it, it was ready to use.

In front of it was a young guy, probably my new body. He turns around to reveal his thick glasses. He has to be almost blind without them, I thought.

"Hi, I'm Eric.", he said reaching forward to shake my hand. I felt how he checked me out. How he glanced at my arms, my beard and my boots.

I shook his hand.

"I'm Mark. I'll be the one you're swapping bodies with.", I said.

I saw how his eyes lightened up until my boss started talking.

"Not really.", he said. "As Mark needs your knowledge about the school Eric, we'll place his consciousness over yours."

"So we'll be two guys in one body?", I asked.

"Correct.", he answered.

Eric and I sit down at the opposite ends of the machine. Arms, legs and head are tied to the machine. We both give the sign that we are ready. I close my eyes and count to 3. As I open them again, everything looks blurry.

"I cant see shit!", I said with a high pitched voice.

Cant wait to have my body back soon, this body is not made for a man like me, I thought.

I'm sorry that you dont like my body but you agreed to do this mission, I heard the high pitched voice in my head. Erics voice.

Off to a great start, didnt know we could hear each others thoughts, I thought. This time Eric stayed quiet.

Someone put myself glasses on. We got untied and I stood up. It was weird to control such a lean body. I looked over to my real body, laying unconscious in the seat. I missed it already but that it was unconscious was better than someone else walking around as me. Last time I switched bodies for work it was with a 70 year old man. My body was sticky when I got it back and my bathroom and some of my clothes were full with cum. So disgusting to think of someone jerking off in my body. Especially when it was a 70 year old.

In the evening I got driven to the school where I should arrest Kenny and Dan.

Two days later I finished the mission and got driven back to the police station. I entered the room with the machine again and saw my old body still laying there as if it wasnt moved. I was so happy to see it again. I sat down on the seat, closed my eyes and counted to 3. I felt my real body again. The warm leather jacket, my tight pants and shirt on my muscles. I wiggled my toes in my leather boots. It felt so great not wearing those Chucks anymore.

I opened my eyes to see that I was still tied to the machine.

"You can untie me now, guys.", I said. It was so great to hear my deep voice again.

Only now I noticed that something wasnt right. The only person with me and Eric in the room was my boss. Normally, multiple people would operate the machine.

I looked at my boss who was talking to Eric. Both whispered.

"Is everything alright?", I asked.

Both of them looked at me and Eric chuckled.

"My nephew said that you were quiet cocky in his body. You made nasty remarks about his clothes, his looks and so on. As compensation, he'll use your body for some time", my boss said.

I was shocked. I never thought something like this would happen.

"Wait, no. This is not true!", I shouted. "I never said something like this."

But it was to late. My boss pressed the button again and I felt how Erics soul entered my body. It was a cold feeling, causing me to shiver. I tried to push him back into his own body but through the help of the machine he overpowered me. I felt how I lost control of my limbs, my muscular body.

Its a pleasure to use this body, I heard Erics voice in my head.

My boss looked at me with a dark grin as he said:"Codename."

"Exodus", I heard myself answer.

"Good it worked.", my boss said as he untied my body.

I had no control over my body as it stood up and my arms started to touch my body. Eric took off my leather jacket and sniffed it. He let out a moan and grabbed my dick. I felt how my dick raised and I couldnt do anything.

"You have 30 minutes for yourself in the bathroom. Here are some clothes we took from his home.", my boss said as he took out a black sportsbag. He opened it to give us a look.

"I see you in 35 minutes in my bureau, Mark.", he said leaving the room.

Eric grabbed the bag and went through the other door into the bathroom. We were alone.

He started to sniff my sweaty armpits and to lick my biceps. He rubbed my cock in my jeans while flexing my muscles in the mirror.

I felt how pre-cum started to drip into my jockstrap and I couldnt do anything against it.

Eric opened my belt and took my dick out of my jockstrap. He wanked it off but he didnt manage to shoot my load. He wanked so hard that he started to stumble. He looked down at my feet. At my black leather boots.

I always wanted to wear boots like this, even though I have to learn how to properly walk in them, his thoughts said.

Eric sat down on a toilet seat and pulled both boots off. He wiggled with my toes in my gold toe socks as he raised the first boot to my nose and put my dick into the second. I could smell the warm, worn leather and the sweat and I felt how that turned Eric on.

I felt how he pressed the top of my dick against the sole of my boot right as my body shot my first load. Eric opened my mouth and let out a loud moan. I was deeply embarrassed.

He switched boots so that I could smell the sweet cum inside my boot which caused me to shoot my second load right into my other boot.

He took off my Red shirt and wrapped it around my dick.

"Watch this.", he said.

He put both boots, with the cum inside, back on. I felt how my socks started to soak it up, it felt disgusting. Like wet socks. But this caused me to shoot my last load and probably the biggest I've ever had into my shirt.

Satisfied with what he did he looked at my watch.

10 minutes left. Time to dress up again, he thought.

He took my jockstrap and my pants off while walking back to the bag.

He looked inside and took a black jeans, jockstrap and a blue shirt out. He put the shirt on, letting my fingertips glide over my abs. He lifted my booted foot to put on my new jockstrap when I heard his thoughts. I dont need this, the jeans will feel great too. So he grabbed my black jeans and put it on. He put on my belt, my gun and my badge. At last he lifted my leather jacket from the bag, sniffed it one last time and put it on. He stuffed the old clothes into the bag and left the bathroom.

He walked into the bureau of my boss.

"Looking good, my son.", my boss said.

"Mark. We're not alone.", Eric answered. He crossed his arms. "What now?"

"First, we just got called to a crime scene. Ready up, we're driving in 5 minutes." He made a sign to come closer and Eric walked around the desk to stand next to him.

"After that, we'll test that body to the max at home.", my boss whispered.

"Sounds good.", Eric answered.

The whole trip to the crime scene was torture. I had to see Erics thoughts about my naked body and the one of my boss. So gross. He also looked through my memories. I tried to stop him but I was too weak.

Arriving at the crime scene I felt how my heart started to beat faster. Eric was nervously looking through my memories how to act as me. I didnt bother to stop him as I got weaker every time I tried and as I had to think about what gruesome night stood before me. I had to make peace that he will be me forever.

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This story as a commission from a friend.

#body switch #male body switch #body swap #male body swap #male possession #possessed #possession #bodysuit #male body transformation #male transformation #body theft

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idesofrevolution · 4 years

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Okay: Bad Boy Musky Transformation it is. Enjoy!

I knew, of course, that Marco sold whatever the degenerates in the neighborhood needed. Weed, Acid, Ecstasy, Shrooms, Coke... take out the hard ones and you have his menu. He always seemed to afford the good things in life with his dark money. Two weeks ago he’d bought a Ducati; a week prior it was a 60 inch TV! God knows it wasn’t from dutiful employment, but I knew damn well just what it was that afforded him these luxuries: whatever could be inhaled, snorted, or smoked. And yet, here I was, working two jobs at McDonalds & Popeyes just trying to afford my garbage studio apartment.

He’d only ever been kind to me, I’ll admit. He’d bring by a pizza he said he couldn’t finish, or his old speakers he’d upgraded. Nice guy, if a bit dim. Always out in the courtyard, laying by the pool with his shirt off. Always surrounded by other guys who’d slip him a hundred. It’s not fair! Four years of college and what did I have to show for it? Student loans and no job prospects. Yet there he was: no trade, no job, no future really; but living like a king. So it was one day where I’ll fully admit that my jealousy overwhelmed me.

I was short that month, for the first time mind you. Short only by a hundred dollars for rent, but I had already gotten a notice on my door. Pay tomorrow or get lost. It was this desperation that made me remember every deal that thug made, every 8-ball, every eighth, every pill... Would he really notice a hundred missing from his pile? I knew for a fact that every Wednesday night, precisely at 10, Marco would leave for the hookah club and not return until 4 or 5 at the earliest. I knew he locked his door, a few locks actually, but I also knew that the moron left his window cracked nearly every night. It just so happened that on that particular evening, he did just that.

In that fleeting moment of curiosity, a plan built up in my head. I watched him loudly slam his door, lock his several locks, and saunter out down the stairs. I waited about five minutes before creeping out of my apartment, careful to watch for other prying eyes. I had to be quick. I made a run for it, bolting to his open window on the balcony. It slid open quite easily, and I heaved myself over the ledge and into Marco’s dark apartment. I landed on the ratty old carpet and quickly shut the window. Looking around the apartment, it was a three bedroom for sure. In the same state of disrepair as mine, but furnished with some of the most expensive, gaudy things I’ve ever seen. Brand new leather couches, a coffee table made completely of glass, a massive stereo system next to his 60 inch TV... An absolute manchild lived here.

However, I wasn’t there for the TV or the oversized sectional. I had a sneaking suspicion that he, like many of us, kept his extra money somewhere in the bedroom. Ensuring that no noise would come from my steps, I snuck quietly down the hall, covered in paintings of scantily clad men toward the bedroom. Interesting, he swung that way, huh? Opening the door, a wafting stink hit me in the face. The room was covered in dirty laundry, used condoms, half rolled blunts, and lines of coke on nearly every surface. This is what I was expecting, and I was surely right. Holding my nose shut, I crept toward his dresser, and began to ruffle through his belongings. Damp socks, damp underwear, damp lycra, everything in there was damp and reeking. I slammed each of the drawers shut, and opened the closet. There, on the tile floor behind rows of pristine sneakers were a pair of destroyed old Vans; and inside each were rolls of hundred dollar bills. Jackpot. I knelt down and grabbed one of the rolls, momentarily unclamping my nose to remove the rubber band. The smell was unbelievable. It took me aback, just how strong it was. I’m sure each of the pairs of Huaraches, AF1′s, and the like had strong scents of their own, but from this single pair of beat up old Vans was the most salty, sweet, almost cheesy footmusk that I’d ever encountered.

For a mere second, I contemplated bringing one of the shoes to my face, letting the dirty, wet insole touch the tip of my nose. However, it was in that second that I should have just left well enough alone. The lightswitch flipped on, and looming over me was the hulking, shirtless Marco. In my right hand was his wad of cash, in the left was his grody sneaker. My face flushed, and my stomach dropped to my toes. He crossed his arms and smiled.

“If you wanted a loan you could have just asked...” Words were caught in the back of my throat. I wanted so terribly to make up some fantastic excuse as to my presence in his closet, but the frog in my throat had other ideas. The growing grin of Marco, paired with him beginning to kneel down to my level made my heart nearly stop beating. “And if you wanted a sniff I’d have given it to you.” He smirked and slowly pulled the shoe from my hand, taking a quick whiff of it’s stench. He turned quickly and laughed, waving the wafting scent away from his face before grabbing the back of my head and plunging it right into the shoe. “Okay, deep breath now.”

I tried to struggle, to fight back, but the man was nearly twice my size and pure muscle. There was no chance of me weaseling my way out of this. I had to just play along with this weird fetish that he seemed to have. I inhaled a quick breath, barely getting any stink.

“No, no. I said deep breath.” I felt a strong hand shoot to my crotch, grabbing my junk within my jeans. The shock of this invasive gesture broke my concentration, and a gasp of breath escaped from my mouth. Into my nose, my mouth, my sinuses, my brain did the musk penetrate. I moaned loudly, the confusion of a powerful grope and a powerful scent submerged me into a strange state of consciousness. Or rather, a lack thereof. I was inhaling the footsmell like air, and I couldn’t get enough. My cock began to tent in my pants, and I felt my right hand drop the roll of cash I thought I so desperately needed. “Ahh, haha. That’s right, let it in. Let me in.”

His voice seemed distorted, as if we were in a deep cavern, it echoed in my skull. He removed the shoe from my face, pulling me to my feet by my bulging groin. Guiding me toward his bed, I sat down on the smelly sheets, no longer in complete control of my faculties.

“Take your clothes off.” His words entered my ears like soft velvet, it felt wrong to disobey. In fact, I wanted to obey. For the first time, I wanted to listen to whatever this man told me to do. His bulging muscles, his plump lips, the way his crooked smile felt so dangerously mischievous, the way his smell took my breath away like a vacuum. For the first time, this man was everything I wanted. I ripped my clothes off and lay there on his bed wearing nothing but my bare, cold skin. Smiling, he took hold of my throbbing, upright cock in his rough hand. Ripples of goosebumps ran up and down my body as he slowly ran his calloused hand up and down my shaft. Each stroke allowed a groan or a moan to sneak out of my lips, before he leaned down atop me and planted a soft kiss onto my lips. He tasted like an ashtray and as his tongue slipped into my mouth, rolling atop my own, I could feel some of his taste transfer to me. I can’t explain it, as we kissed I could feel that taste of cigarettes and blunts seep into my tongue. I pulled his pants down, his thick, uncut cock tumbling out of his compression shorts onto my stomach. He smiled as he pulled away from the kiss. I stuck my finger under his foreskin, swiping it around, and brought it to my lips. It tasted like ripe, sweaty cock, and I began to crave it. “Oh yeah, babe you’re a keeper.”

He jumped up, and pulled me toward the edge of the bed. I got a perfect frontal view of his gorgeous cock and saggy balls, his virile and manly smell kept pouring into my nose and into the depths of my mind. He grabbed me by the back of my hair and pulled my eager mouth forward, engulfing his slick, smelly cock. I suckled, my loud slurping seeming making him even hornier. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him fiddling with something just out of view. As he thrust down my throat, I realized just what it was that he had. His used condom, I presume from whatever sexy fuck occurred the night prior, was in his hands. I closed my eyes as I felt its rubbery walls close tightly around the tip of my cock, slickly sliding down my shaft until his cold, creamy load touched my slit. With a loud snap, I looked down and saw his thick white cum completely enveloping my cockhead. I only got a quick glance before he’d pulled out of my mouth, replacing his succulent cock with my now favorite smelly shoe. I licked the sole, letting the thick toejam season my ashy tongue as the musk thrust into my nose once more.

I knew what was coming, and I was prepared when I felt that slippery cock slip like butter into my tight hole. He’d grabbed my cock, covered in his seed, and jerked in tandem with his thrusts into my ass. Sensory overload. His smell, his seed, his cock, his taste, the very sight of him... It was all him. He was marking me. I was his property, and I was glad to oblige. Every single hard smack against my ass cheeks, every stinking waft into my brain, every breath of his smoky breath coming out of my mouth... It was too much! He fucked like a madman, stroking my cock into his slime until I felt a strange tingling in my cockhead. It was a slick, penetrating sensation of his seed... slurping into my slit! I was nearly screaming as I felt it sink deep down my shaft, into my engorging balls. It was stewing, brewing inside my growing sack! I heard him howl as he unloaded his fresher load into me.

I felt his cock within me shooting spurt after spurt... going from ounces to gallons very quickly. His cum spread throughout my body like water into a balloon. I could feel the silky liquid beneath my skin, creeping, inflating every part of my body. It seeped up my throat, into my mouth, behind my very eyes into my brain. The pressure grew as I felt growth, I felt strength, I felt different. My body was gelatinous beneath my skin, before slowly firming into a much larger form. An improved form. I pulled Marco’s shoe from my face, and looked at my changing body. The cum kept flowing as I saw my muscled arms, my bulging abs, a grotesquely inflated ballsack... He leaned down and kissed me again, giving me another much needed taste of his addictive taste. My brain was melting, reforming, changing... Things were fuzzy and blurred before it was my turn to blow my load. In it, was who I used to be, my failures, my strife, my worries and obligations... Flowed like a jet out of my cock into his condom. Cum flowed out of the top of the condom, before Marco ripped it from me, letting the hot juices pool between us.

“Lookin’ good, babe.” He smiled at me, and I looked at the man I loved with a smirk. Yeah, I sure fuckin’ do look good. We laid there all night long, fucking and kissing and sniffing and tasting... By the time the sun came up, I was in his clothes, I reeked of his sweaty manly musk, I was wearing my favorite pair of red Vans, and I was readying an 8-ball for pickup later that morning (after a few lines for me and the boyfriend). I kicked back and lit a cigarette, enjoying the laid back life I’d come to love with my man.

It’s a love story. How touching. So let me know what you think. Give me some anons on your opinions! Also, toss a few quid into the tip jar and I’d be eternally grateful <3 <3

#male transformation #badass transformation #gay transformation #musk #musky #feet #smelly men #thuggification #male takeover #original #badboy #smoking #drugs #stoner transformation

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 3 years

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Into The Thick of It (1)

Loki x Female Reader

Chapter 1: The Cult

Series Summary: Her work as an agriculturist nearly takes the readers life is not for a stranger (and his weird looking dog) who later turns out to be the God of Mischief. Thrown into a completely different realm, you want to figure out a way home while trying to stay out of the way of this literal God. But fate has its own plans for the two of you.

Written for @tarithenurse and her #Taris1Kchallenge

Warnings: torture, sacrifice, undertones of rape

Word Count: I am on a break. It feels good to just breathe without dreading the rest of the day. Why is work so punishing?

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

One single machine whirrs in this dull laundromat. The light above you flickers at intervals so regular you have already made a beat out of it. The only other sound distracting enough is some old music playing on the radio at the front desk where no one sits at this hour. And that fan that seems to be breathing its last over your head. "Yeah, it's unbelievably quiet here," you mentioned in a soft tone before looking around the empty space. "I guess I'm glad I only had to stop for three days here." "What? Are you not going to explore this place?" your friend, Zaira's voice crackles through the phone. You shrug despite knowing she cannot see you. "I don't know, Zai, this place gives me the creeps for some reason. I am only hanging around here because Prashant wants to revise the reports I sent him of the soil composition before he gives me a green light to leave this place." "Damn! That bad?" "Oh! You have no idea!" You look around once again. The front desk guy has just come back in his old Chevrolet and the clock has struck nine. "Zai," you whisper in the lowest tone possible, watching the man whistle as he gets out of his car without closing the door, "there are no kids in this village-slash-town." He walks to the back to open the trunk of his car, whistling a somewhat familiar tune. "That's...not haunting at all!" Zaira's sarcasm can be heard in her surprised tone. "Well, what's more haunting is the fact that the youngest person here is an eighteen-year-old boy who keeps showing up anywhere I go and keeps staring at me funny." The man shuts the hood with a loud thump and you can see a fresh bundle of store-bought rope, a baseball bat, a bottle of some chemical-probably for cleaning- and a pair of rubber gloves as he starts walking to the entrance. "Allah-" Zaira takes the Lord's name in surprise- "no wonder they have The Sacrifice playing somewhere there." The man sets everything on the front desk, still whistling the same tune, which you now come to realise is the song that is currently playing on the radio. "The...the what?"

"The thing playing in your background," Zaira comments, "it's playing on a two strong instrument with a looping chorus. It's a pagan ritual song that is sung by some orthodox communities that still present a sacrifice to their pagan gods. We learned this in the summer session for cult studies, boo. Oh, wait. You were back home that time. The chorus basically says 'here's your sacrifice, now pay my dues'." Not a word of what Zaira said is heard after the pagan ritual song because suddenly all the materials resting on the front desk are making sense. So is the creak of the back door that opens to let the only teenager of the town in. Your body is frozen in place, your mind has gone blank. One moment you are running for the exit. And the next, you are lying on the floor with the two men hovering over you while the song calling for your sacrifice slowly fades away. . It is the discomfort from the heat that wakes you up. The sweat and stickiness all over your body slowly registers in your brain that alerts of a throbbing ache at the back of your head with a bang. Everything is a blur for a few moments; till the lights morph into fire beacons and the sun transforms into a bonfire, the figures moving around you become humans with faces smeared in blood. Your clammy skin shines in the light of the bonfire, your hair sticking to any part of you. Tears are rolling down the edge of your eyes while your brain is registering this new pain altogether from the gag in your mouth. You try to move your hand to touch your skull where it hurts, but are unable to do so. My hands...I can't move them. Your dizzy brain gives your body the command again but in vain. "She's awake!" a raspy voice pierces through the air. And within a speck of a second, all the memories start rushing in. Y/N? Hello? Babe, can you hear me? Adrenaline shoots up in your system and your senses are heightened. The smell of kerosene is heavy in the air along with the crippling stench of burning flesh. You have been bound to a pole with your hands behind you, the bonfire in front of you, the forest surrounding you from every corner and the moonless sky on top of you. The faces in the fire are all familiar. The residents of this town, all staring at you while you struggle to get out of the ropes cutting through your skin, stop their movement to pick up the bowls kept in front of them and drink its contents. Your cries are muffled; partly because of the gag and partly because of the sobs that want to escape your throat just like your tears. Your already broken body jumps when the oldest woman in the group starts shouting phrases in a language unknown to you. And just as she begins, everyone around her takes out a dagger and starts moving in your direction. Your heartbeat seems to drop for a moment. They can see the horror in your eyes. But that does not stop their moments. The woman's chants grow heavier as her hand moments grow more vigorous. The youngest of them all skips a step or two to straight away jump on the platform where you are kept on display. He looks around once and turns to you to move your sweat laden hair strands away from your face. His pale fingers are cold, almost icy to the touch. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of here," he whispers close to your ears. Your sobs turn to sniffs to hear his words and look into his eyes. Those grey irises are trying to dig straight into your soul. "Trust me." Your instinct- which has never been wrong in your life- is already moving your leg to bend the knee and get his balls. And you do. Watching him writhe in pain for one long satisfying moment as he curses you from heaven to hell. But he gets back up, with the eyes of a madman ready to kill. You are crying out still, for anyone who will listen, in heaven or hell, as he takes you by your throat. The venom in his hold is enough to take your life. "The only way out-" he says close to your face- "is through, you cunt." One last prayer comes out of you as a whimper before you wait for his dagger to meet you. In the next heartbeat, everything turns white. . Everything is blinded by a white light. It does seem to be the end. Why did I have to die like this dammit?! A Buzzfeed Unsolved episode?! But something does not sit right. The white light should be the end, right? Then why can feel something wet under my h- Before you realise you are tumbling down the steepness of the forest. Your body can feel every rock and every pebble on the way down the seemingly endless slope. It seems like a long while when your limbs finally skid on flat rocky terrain, bringing the ringing pain to a halt before it can bounce all over your body a bit louder in the deafening silence. The first thing your senses do is look for any sign of danger around you. The forest is dark. And apparently different than the one you were in before. The trees are taller and with trunks that would not fit in your hugs. You cannot see their ends in the sky from where you lay. Not weird at all. The silence too sends your wounded heart into an anxious stir. Not even the cicadas speak here. Am I...dead? Now that definitely stirs something out there. A twig breaks in the distance. You pause your breath and shush your racing heart. A soft rustle of leaves can be heard somewhere that lets your sweat run cold all over the body. It is hard to breathe through the gag as it is, and you are standing nowhere near a hiding spot, making your basic instincts run wild with any shadow you see in this treacherous night. So all you do is stand as still as a trembling mouse and wait. And that wait isn't long. Call it nature's mysterious ways or just a random event happening at the right time, a cool breeze stirs the air for the first time in this place. From where you stand, the breeze hits your back, tickling those sweat beads on the nape of your neck before letting you smell the odour of blood it carries with it. All the neurons inside you make you turn around and face a familiar figure emerging from the shadows with a dagger in his hand. The basic instincts inside you are already making your body break into a run in the opposite direction. The rush of the flight instinct is overpowering all the injuries and you forget for a second that your hands are still tied behind you as you speed straight ahead. But that devil of a man is fast. He has already closed the distance and his hands are grabbing your hair, pushing you both to the ground. He presses you down with his body, not giving you any room to get up or free your limbs. But he does untie your gag before turning you around and holding your neck in a choke-hold. "Please, please, please..." Nothing else is coming out of you at this point; except for hot tears streaming down the side of your face. "Well," the bastard sighs, pressing down his pelvis on your abdomen while having the audacity to smirk when looking down at you, "we had to sacrifice a virgin. But surely it's going to work the same if I put that mouth to work." The dread of his words does not set in till his free hand reaches for the button on his pants to undo it. The more you try to push away from him, the tighter he grips your throat. Oh, Gods! Just let me die instead. He is halfway undoing his zipper when a sound cracks through the air. It almost sounds like a very quiet motor either just starting or just stopping. And the closer it gets, it starts taking the shape of a growl coming from the throat of an animal. The man is distracted now; looking for the source of the sound. Loosening his grip a bit, he turns around to let his vision get as far in the dark as it could to look for anything out of the ordinary. And while he is busy, it is you who notices its presence and choose not to make a sound. The man turns around to look right into red eyes gleaming at him from a distance of three inches, sending him jumping up and crawling back on the ground as far away from you as possible. Huge white canines visible even in this darkness are on display as this four-legged creature growls in your captor's direction. A twisted horn rests majestically on each side of its head. Paws as huge as a lion's, but claws twice as big and dark as the night are resting on either side of your shoulder. The fur seems dark and dense except for where pointed bones are protruding out on its back. The growl revving in this creature's throat is enough for the predator to crawl back further with his heart stuck in his throat. And before he can figure out what demonic hell this creature had walked out from, he comes to discover another wave of fear when he sees a shadow behind it in between two trees. That shadow seems human. Human enough at the very least until he thought he was hallucinating that figure with gleaming green eyes. "Wh-who's there?!" the man's voice starts in a scream ends up in a squeak. "Get that ugly dog away from here!" The 'ugly dog' shifts from your side to take a few steps towards the bastard, metaphorically pinning him in between the roots of the trees he was sweating in. "Hey!" he shouted again at the shadow, "can't you hear me?!" You sit up, watching the creature slowly ready itself for attack mode. Turning around, you too are able to see a figure. It looks tall and is evidently clad in something heavy. Is that a sword in his hand? But that sword is not as concerning as those illuminated green pupils. "You son of a bitch! Get the fuck out of here before I stab you and your filthy farm ani-" "Rífa hann í sundur," is all you hear in a low hum from that figure's end one second. The next, there are growls and blood-curdling screams emerging from behind you; haunting enough to make you jump and curl up where you sit but never move your eyes away from that shadow that still stands as still as a rock. Tears still fall from your eyes; your legs pulled as close to your chest as possible. The screams continue to come out for a long time...long enough for you to notice a snowflake fall on your knee. More snowflakes come after the first one. And once the screams die down, you feel something brush your hands, almost making your heart fall out, only to realise that creature standing right behind you nudging at your ropes to gnaw your hands out of them. The adrenaline rush has diluted now. The pain and exhaustion that comes with it now lie heavy in your bones. Your eyes cannot take it anymore. But they still want to see that figure which now takes the liberty to walk out of the shadows underneath the clear light of the nearest moon. Your body is ready to fall but the creature provides some support to your lifeless limbs. Its fur feels so good on your cheeks. And that pale face coming to a stop in front of you feels almost angelic. Those green eyes are looking at you with both concern and judgment but what your brain registers first is the moonlight falling on those otherworldly cheekbones framed with clean braids. You want to keep looking at that face for a few more minutes. But there is only so much your wounded body can take before everything is a blur. . You have already hit deep slumber when the God comes to stand before you. He gets down on his knees to get a close look at your face buried in the hound's face. "What do you think she's doing here, Agni?" Agni huffs and shifts enough to let the God have a better look at the face marred with wounds and bruises. A face that still looks so serene after putting up such a fight. The long pale fingers move those few strands of hair away that are blocking your features under the light of the moons. Calculations have already been done in that mind. What's left is to figure out whether to leave you here in the depth of the endless garden or... "Agni-" that voice commands with zero emotions, still studying your features- "call out for help. We are taking this one back to the camp."

#loki #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fluff #loki smut #marvel fluff #marvel smut #mcu fluff #mcu smut #fluff #smut #fanfic #loki fanfic #loki series #into the thick of it #taris1kchallenge #tarithenurse

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multiplefandomsblog · 3 years

Note

your roommate hcs are so cute, can i request for naib, demi, tracy, andrew, kurt, patricia, and victor?

:0 holy crap yes! I’m so glad you enjoyed the roommate hcs!! Me and the other mods hope you enjoy these! Thank you for requesting :))

(i added melly because why not? lmao hope you don’t mind.)

Part 1!

Naib Subedar

This man deadass didn’t know you were living with him

Even when people told him about it, he wasn’t rlly paying attention and didn’t rlly care

Your stuff in his room? He thought it was his or someone just broke into his room and left it there

When he saw you on the toilet however, he just freaked out.

“Why the hell are you shitting in my room!?” “Your room? I’ve been living here for 2 months!”

Once he found out you lived with him, he made sure you knew what was his and what was yours

also, since he’s very protective of his things-- you being one of them-- he would totally get jealous if he caught you tallking to someone that wasn’t him.

he would probably give you the silent treatment and act like a pissy baby

He hates it when you touch his stuff

especially his photos, the photos were special to him because they were of him and his army friends.

You’d sometimes catch him looking at the photos with a longing in his eyes, it was highkey sad.

having you live with him meant lots and lots of training

he made sure you were always prepared for matches and that you don’t get downed early

when you got downed early however, He would scold you but he would still rescue you anyways because he’s soft

“You’re such an idiot, you’d better do better next time! Or else I’ll kick your ass.”

one time he got cocky while kiting because you were watching him

he forgot to turn on his elbow pads and face palmed into the wall.

“...You saw nothing.” He turned around, a bit woozy from hitting his head on a wall. He flipped the hunter off before stumbling wooshing away

When you first get to know naib, he’d probably come off as intimidating and menacing

but once you get to know him--the real him--, you start to understand that even though he may be tough on you, its because he wants you to be the best

he has good intentions

During matches he’d let you handle yourself and made sure you didn’t rely on him too much

One time you needed to shower but you ran out of your shampoo so you used his.

When he questioned you, you simply responded “What? You don’t need it anyways, you’re bald!”

He didn’t rescue you the next round.

should’ve seen that coming

though he forgives you when you braid his luscious long existent hair for him

Kurt Frank

The amount of times you almost stepped on this man is astronomical.

he would constantly be in his tiny form because he would lose a lot of his things

his tiny form helped him find his things easily

Though when you first moved in with him, you had no idea what his ability was

so when you first saw a tiny version of your roommate you thought he was just a weird doll

until you heard him say a tiny, “Hey can you move your ginORMOUS foot? You’re stepping on my book.”

You fucking screeched and took off your shoe to try and kill him

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

After he explained to you about his ability you calmed down a bit and spared this tiny man but only this time!

Frank loves books, he probably filled your shared rooms with stacks on stacks of books

You’d often see him tiny, waving at you while you’re decoding

Once you overhead Kurt arguing with First Officer over who was the rightful owner of some sort of treasure map

They fought for days,

kurt would constantly complain about it to you

turns out it was just a game on the back of a Cereal box.

sorry this is short like kurt

Tracy Reznik

Would be a little awkward at first, but the awkwardness slowly fades away when you both make bad jokes

she gives me childhood best friend vibes

Has her doll sitting in the corner of your shared room room, it’s lifeless eyes scare the living shit out of you in the dark you try not to make eye contact, afraid it’ll curse you or smth

if she was mad at you she would move the bot in a way that looked like it was flipping you off you off in your direction before you went to bed.

Always making little robot things that are super fun to play with

Loves sharing her things. Has no problem with it

you wanna wear her clothes? sure

you want to wear her underwear? evEN BETTER-

Pulling all nighters, trying to get her machines to work like how she wanted it to work.

Would live off of kraft Mac n cheese and junk food in the modern day

Pretty hyper, chugs pink monster energy drinks while pulling all nighters, also, in the modern day

would probably be a bruh girl

Her room is a mess, covered with blueprints and scrap metal

her room is practically a safety hazard

Sometimes she dresses her doll up a bit, putting wigs or her old clothes on it (which scares you half to death)

Once she made her doll dress up like her

and you almost went up to it to ask what it wanted for dinner.

Has a photo of her and her dad

You never wanted to bring it up, worried it might make her upset :(

Sometimes she’d feel really guilty about being downed in the first 30 seconds

please comfort her, she feels super bad

She always relies on you to rescue her

She gets really happy and thankful when you body block for her but she still gets a bit concerned when you do it randomly

“i wasn’t even kiting-” “Protecc the mecc.”

Demi Bourbon

Always out at the bar

Smells like alcohol constantly

tipsy 24/7

she’s never 100% sober

You have to hold her hair out of her face when she comes back to your shared room to hurl

Likes bringing back hard vodka or weird flavoured alcohols back for you guys to get wasted try together

Room is bit cluttered, but she doesn’t have much in her room since she’s always out in bars or matches

Usually latches onto you like a parasite when she’s drunk.

it gets a bit awkward when her face is a bit close to yours,

“Are we about to kiss right now-? BLeurghgrhgherrgh.”“...*audible sigh*”

You’d go to her expecting her to heal you like a normal person but no

instead she shoves dovlin down your throat

She likes to do your makeup, and always adds a matching beauty mark

unless you don’t wear makeup, then she’d ask you to do hers

always loves how she looks afterwards

more than sometimes demi would get into bar fights,

so you know she’s about to throw hands when she starts takes off her earrings-

10/10 would fight for you <3

She’s gives me cool wine aunt vibes

Probably a lesbian too (check out our Demi smut fic ;))

Or bi, idk

Just straightn’t

She’s really good at hyping you up, especially when you’re taking shots

“CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG-”

Andrew Kreiss

Would be very shy at first, opens up a little when you get to know him

Totally a night owl, can’t sleep at night from all the guilt and “what if’”s

if you see this baby awake at night, hug him, he really needs it

You’ve never seen the other side of his face

How does he see with hair in his eyes?

He’s albino, which is super dope

Sometime you fear he’s thinking about burying you

You always see him thwacking Luca with his shovel

Barely talks

Room is moderate

He doesn’t want you to find out too much about him

He may seem bland, but he loves sweet food

You’d bake him cookies and other sweets

He’d act as if he’s not embarrassed and brush it off

“Are you blushing?”“No, I-I’m sunburnt.” “On your face?” “....I stare into the hot red sun sometimes because it eases me.”

to keep his lie going, every time he catches you staring at him he would fry his eye balls by staring into the sun until you left

partially the reason why he can’t see well

When he’s not looking, you stare at him while he’s eating the stuff you made because he looks so happy :’)

One time you found him down in the dumps so you made him a cup of coffee, and when you handed it to him you said-

“Depresso espresso?”

*sniff* ”..are you oka-” “IM NOT CRYING, YOU ARE”

he actually cried

it was such a nice gesture(?), that he started ugly crying

You’d ask him if he wanted hugs during matches when you see him get stressed

He’d be flushed and kinda confused

hug... him? why tho lmao

he’d definitely agree tho, to be fair, with some hesitation

if y’all ever cuddled in bed, i feel like he’d be a little spoon

poor boy needs the comfort, he wouldn’t mind if you wanted to be little spoon tho

he just wants to be close to you

Victor Grantz

You love playing with his dog, Wick

Super nice and polite, but a little guarded

The type to be too afraid to call people out when they do something wrong but would totally trash them in his head

You write him little letters everyday and leave them on his bed to make him happy :))

He’d a be a little spoon

Wick would always join you guys while cuddling

Kisses would be soft and gentle

Usually sends you the first letter in matches

Loves to cuddle

He bb 🥰

You always get him a birthday present AND a Christmas present

You also get a gift for Wick

He loves giving you surprise hugs

Likes to read with you while cuddling

Literally a cinnamon roll

Once he was eating a cinnamon roll

And you whispered

“C a n n i b a l i s m .”

He was very confused

and kind of scared- were you going to eat him?

Patricia Dorval

Room always smells like herbs

She could literally smoke weed and you’d think it’s some magical healing herb

it magically makes you feel better

Always there to stun the hunter when you’re ballooned

The mature one

Her room is organized, with boxes labeling what herbs and magic stuff that are in them

You were cooking dinner for the day and you accidentally used one of her fancy herbs in your soup

She didn’t realize until she tried the soup

She wasn’t mad just disappointed

She lectured you on how you shouldn’t touch her stuff or use it for cooking

Gotta admit tho, the soup was pretty good

she acts like the mom everyone wishes they had

totally the type to be like, “dude we should think this through.” before doing something risky

and then five seconds later, “cowABUNGA MY DUDES”

one time she caught kreacher leaving the mens washroom without washing his hands

seeing as she was the mother of this manor, she had to protect her children from diseases

so she yeeted her monkey skull at kreachers head, cleanly knocking him out

and everybody cheered.

Melly Plinius

When you heard melly was going to be your roomie, you couldn’t have been more excited.

you finally had a victim for the many insect pick up lines!

So you decided to make some good first impressions by waiting for her in your room.

so when she arrived to your room and greeted you, you happily greeted her back, and slipped in the pick up line.

“Hello, my name is Melly. I believe I will be your ro-?”“Yeah nice to meet you too, say, what do bees make?”

She kinda thought you were a bit rude so much for first impressions

“...Erm, honey?” she replied hesitantly

“YES DEAR?”

... okay maybe you weren’t thaaaat bad.

after that she kind of developed a teensy crush on you

so it was hard living with you because of her crush, since she was constantly flustered

you loved her reactions, she constantly got red.

it was funny watching her try to keep her cool and fail.

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dreamii-yume · 3 years

Text

New Episode Update Let’s GOO!!!

Warning : This is just Yume having a mental breakdown, seriously. This episode update was WHACK.

~ MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 68-75 ~

I know we ain’t participating and all but the game reminding you that there’s 10 minutes left to prepare is seriously bad for my heart.

Aah, shiet. Vil is still hurt.

He still has small wounds and scratches that he hid make up. Daddy, I’m worried.

Apparently, yeah, I’m not the only one cause my homeboy, Epel just asked to switch the center role with Vil. THE CONFIDENCE.

Aw, he’s worried about him falling over during stage (And make the performance look bad) Come on, Epel just be honest-

...He finally became the ideal poisoned apple that Vil wanted, huh?

Vil being proud a mom.

But the queen inside him is STRONG.

He’ll embrace the villain in him, OUR QUEEN CAN STILL GO. INJURED, WHO?

...AAND he proceeds to roast Epel again lol Typical Vil.

I love how Epel just accepted a nickname like “Doku Ringo-chan” lol It’s so cute, senior-junior relationship goals right there.

HERE WE GO.

Everyone is actually really confident hahaha

I really wish Deuce’s mom, Ace’s brother, Jamil’s sister, and Vil’s dad were here in person to watch.

HECK I WANT KALIM’S WHOLE FAMILY HERE WHY NOT

T-THEY’RE REALLY LETTING US HEAR THE FULL SONG.

IS THAT JAMIL RAPPING.

Look at Jamil’s solo SD dancing. LOOK AT IT.

I really fucking love Vil’s singing voice aaa

HIS VOICE IS SO GOOD.

Album when disney.

Is Vil okay.

...aight im hearing some high quality panting here

...dont mind me listening to it a bit too much...

...they’re going to be great reference for some spicy- leave me alone

Vil panting is making me feel SOMETHING.

ANYWAY. THE CROWD IS A MOOD.

IS VIL OKAY.

Unmei no megami is giving me idia ptsd here.

Heartslabyul Senpais are watching their kids, looking all proud *sniff

Oh god, after playing Obey Me, it just occurred to me how similar Cater and Asmodeus’ voices are...

Watch these Senpai dorks act like Ace and Deuce’s second family. Trey being the dad, Riddle being the mom, and Cater being the supportive big bro. It’s so beautiful.

Riddle’s voice is a lot more softer now, I just realized...It’s so soothing...

God i miss u too octavinelle never change

Yeah, why tf did Floyd not audition for this

Bro, can you imagine Nobuhiko Okamoto in the squad as well??? IMAGINE-

Of course, he wasn’t in the mood back then. Of course. Why did i even ask.

IMAGINE FLOYD BEING IN VDC NEXT YEAR.

Omg i miss u too octavinelle never change

Azul’s gonna overblot again with Floyd’s marketing skills lol

Jade coming in like welp i guess thats that. Too bad, huh Azul?

GOD i miss u too octavinelle never change

SAVANA BITCHES HI

I wonder if these mfs knew that Vil just overblotted and malmal was the one who fixed the stage lol

oooh Leona’s sus about something he a sharp boi

Speak up my guy—

still so weird leona taking his job seriously

Malleus looking happier seeing this performance rather than Lilia’s lol

I miss the simpery in Sebek

Silver’s not in the verge of falling into a coma for once wow

Chenya’s so cute.

AND WE’RE BACK TO CUTE HEIGH HO TEAM

fcking shotacons man...im not one to talk

Aw, they didn’t show Neige performance...

The simping in the crowd is a MASSIVE mood.

WHO WINS TELL ME

These night raven fuckers better vote for us and not pull a “oh shie my hand slipped lololol” i swear to god- im gonna throw hands

*me holding my phone and pretending to vote as well

Suspense music intensifies be like-

HAAA

BOIS, ITS ONE VOTE DIFFERENCE WHO IS IT AAAA

WHAT.

HOW DARE- HOW!? HOW DID WE LOSE!?

WE LOST BY ONE VOTE!?

EVERYONE’S SO SHOCKED LOL

vil pls dont overblot again-

Noooo grim’s tuna cans-

WE REALLY LOST TO A LEGIT KIDS SONG.

These children do not have the right to be this cute. I wanna take Timmy, Toby, and Shelpie home.

I swear to god one of these dwarves sounds like Cheka lol Is it Toby?

EPEEELLLL DONT CRRYYYY

KALIMMMM DONT CRRYYYY

KALIM HAVING THE AUDACITY TO SOUNDING LIKE A BIG BROTHER AND THEN CRYING HIS OWN RIGHT AFTER LOLOLOL

I HATE THIS EPISODE YALL MADE MY TWO BOIS CRY IM FIGHTING THIS EPISODE. BURN THIS.

This background music too though im deeeeddd

KALIM IM SO SORRY FOR MAKING A SINFIC ABOUT YOU PLS DONT CRY-

Jamil impressed about Vil being “calm” and Vil just going “h e h. you dont even know.”

....ha...

Monsieur Rook. WHAT did you say.

ROOK VOTED FOR ROYAL SWORD. Are you kidding me. You snek how could you- i loved you

WHAT DID I SAY- Ya’ll night raven fuckers shall not slip by their fingers when voting rook.

Vil is in the brink of passing out aaaaa

I have never heard Ace this pissed before whoa- lol he sounds like Deuce in his delinquent mode

Aw...Rook felt that Neige’s performance carries a stronger bond than theirs :’( it’s hard to put the blame on him when he’s saying all these stuff

It’s just like what they said in the past episodes that it’s really hard voting for your own team when you know the opposing team is better.

Aww...He just wanted Vil to believe in himself more...Rook is such a best man. Im crying-

Oh noooo is Vil gonna cry too nooo- daddy turned to baby really quick SOMEONE GIVE HIM AN EMERGENCY HUG

Well- at least...at least the 100 year record of not being able to win is still going, yeah? Um...bad joke? Sorry, i’ll see myself out-

NEIGE NOT NOW AND YOUR VII-KUN BULLSHIT- we’re having a moment here

Neige is such sweetheart but aaaahh— This makes it worse, we can’t even hate him aaa—

OMG JUST WHEN I THOUGHT THINGS COULDN’T- AAAAA

MONSIEUR ROOK. YOU’RE A FAN OF NEIGE!?

MOTHERFUCKER just got exposed by Neige himself lol

Going to Neige’s shake hand events, sending him letters, buying all his merch and shie- HE’S A FULL BLOWN NEIGE STAN

WTF YOU SNEK GET OUT OF THIS SCHOOL-

OOOOHHH THAT FUCKING ALBUM- HIS “LIFE’S WORK” or whatever bullshit IS FULL OF NEIGE

...actually- my japanese is lacking- im not sure lol what is a ブロマイド??? Lol I feel like a clown.

Rook is sweating profusely LOL

...what do you have to say for yourself, monsieur rook.

Wait- huh is that-

IS HE GONNA CRY-

WHY IS EVERYONE CRYING!??!?!?!

HE’S SILENTLY CRYING AS HE INTRODUCED HIMSELF TO NEIGE WHAT. THE. FUCK IS THIS EPISODE.

Neige fanclub??? Eternal Snow??? What kind of creepy-ass- OH, HE EVEN HAS A MEMBERSHIP NUMBER TOO-

Props to Neige with his :) expression unfaltering.

I’m- I’m speechless.

Vil is just looking down at Rook in disappointment like- “you’re more pathetic than I am”

Queen just went “I think you need this handkerchief more than I do now” THAT’S RIGHT. REPENT MOTHERFUCKER.

Rook crying is cursed.

But damn, I’m kinda liking this new relationship this bitchy relationship they have

Neige just dragged everyone’s ass back on stage and his snow white energy just said “LETS ALL BE FRIENDS AND SING”

NEIGE IS FUCKING GREAT- HE REALLY DID GOT THESE BITCHES TO SING HEIGH HO LOL

ACE’S RELUCTANT SINGING AND DEUCE LOOKING LIKE HE’S HAVING FUN

KALIM IS SUCH A MOOD, SINGING EVEN WITHOUT KNOWING THE LYRICS AND JAMIL JUST HAVING THAT “i want to die” ENERGY

AIGHT. ROOK IS HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN AND EPEL IS TRYING HIS BEST. HE’S SO CUTE-

OMG NEIGE AND VIL HAVING SUCH GOOD HARMONY—

YAHOO Y A H O O TANOSHIINDA~~

YA’LL SURE ABOUT GIVING ME THIS BLESSED MOMENT??

What a somewhat happy ending, even though Rook just backstabbed us I’m crying Beauté 100 points!!!

LOL Vil realizing he’s having fun singing with Neige- “SOMEONE JUST END ME RIGHT NOW-“ The desperation in his voice-

I love how Neige’s yahoo yahoo is messing with everyone’s head, even Vil wants to pass out lol

haha Crowley is so depressed lol

WHA- WHO-

HEADMASTER OF ROYAL SWORD!?

He looks like your typical grandpa- and his outfit looks like that one mickey mouse wizard outfit but blue—

Old man just went “we won lol” just to piss Crowley off I like this guy’s energy already-

Crowley being most likely as old as this guy—

ooohh this man just sensed something in this stage- Leona did too, didn’t he???

* Damn. Crowley talking so fast sounds like he’s making a load of bullshit lol

Anyway, I’m just glad that it’s not mickey mouse who’s the headmaster— I would’ve lost my shit.

We’re back in our dorms and I forgot that the squad doesn’t live with us anymore. It’s suddenly so lonely now...

Grim is getting the yahoo yahoo ptsd too lol it’s too goddamn catchy

oooohh shiet- mickey is calling us again

YES we finally got a good picture of this motherfucker

It seems like nothing is disrupting our communication this time, so MC thought to call Grim but—

Grim is not here.

Uuhhh...Grim? Where you’ve gone??? We’re getting flashbacks of the first parts of the game.

We went out to find Grim and HE’S CHOMPING ON ANOTHER BLACK STONE ON THE STAGE-

GRIM SPIT THAT OUT YOU LOOK TERRIFYING

AAAAAHH GRIM HAS GONE FERAL— He’s attacking US

Is this because we didn’t win his tuna canss nooo

NoOO SWEET BABY COME BACK.

Legit I’m sad, please baby don’t overblot like this...

He learned a new move though- SCRATCH

Ooh— We’re seeing some Ignihyde scenes here~

P U H I H I

Idia getting a lot of emails from bigshot companies whoa—

THAT OLYMPUS—?! EXCUSE ME??? Ortho what- Are we finally getting that Hercules episode—

Damn getting a hot chance in olympus only to put them down the recycling bin oof— Idia why edit : Yume was informed that olympus is kind of a company that sponsored VDC sorry she was mind-fucked at this moment and the ability to understand proper Japanese just went whoosh lol Thanks to @starshiningsirius for pointing it out for Yume~ ♥︎ HONESTLY YUME’S JUST GONNA WAIT FOR ACTUAL PROFESSIONAL TRANSLATORS AT THIS POINT LOL Don’t trust me for important situation too much lol

Aaaahh...We’re getting this shut-in out of his room in the next episode, are we?

And that concludes the whole Pomefiore Episode! JESUS CHRIST 75 CHAPTERS ALL IN ALL!? How long is the Ignihyde chapter going to be, huh!?

This was a really, really fun episode lol I’d consider this a fan service episode actually cause of all the things we get to experience— The singing, dancing, and the new songs, THE DRAMA. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

But then, the plot thickens, no? What’s going to happen to Grim? In the Ignihyde episode? And those reoccurring memories of us? And our relationship with Tsunotarou lol ALSO WE NEVER REALLY DID FIND OUT WHAT ROOK’S UNIQUE MAGIC IS. DISNEY EXPLAIN—

Thanks for reading this shitpost of Yume losing her shiet lol See you all in the Ignihyde Episode~ ❤

#twisted wonderland #spoilers #episode 5 #Talk with Yume

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taizi · 3 years

Text

a little room to grow

@natsumeweek 2021 day 5; freedom/possession

read on ao3

(previous part)

Hinata takes one look at them and says, “Holy shit. Get in here, Natoris.”

So they must look pretty bad, then.

Takashi is uncharacteristically quiet, going right to the sofa and gathering Hinata’s cat up in his arms.

Hinata watches him for a moment, turns and stares directly into Shuuichi’s face, and then heads into the kitchen to snatch up a takeout menu that she keeps permanently stuck to the front of her fridge under a huge Cinnamoroll magnet.

“Sit,” Hinata says with a jerk of her chin towards the table. She tucks her cellphone between her shoulder and her ear and unfolds the paper menu with a business-like snap. “I’m ordering enough junk food for all three of us, and then you’re going to tell me why you look like that.”

Shuuichi sits.

Hinata lives with her single mother, who works thirds, and her aunt, who doesn’t work but often has somewhere else to be. It’s unlikely either of them are going to make an appearance tonight.

The TV is on in the living room, playing what sounds like Sailor Moon. Takashi is watching it just because it’s already on, but he’s slowly becoming more invested the longer he sits there—Shuichi can tell from the way his hand on the little cat in his lap slows its petting, the way his round brown eyes become fixed on the screen. The sounds of traffic and rain outside are muted, the outside world hardly existing past what little pieces of it make it through the open window in the kitchen.

It’s peaceful here. It’s almost home, even.

Hinata puts the phone down, sits across from Shuuichi, and crosses her arms on top of the table. Her silence is expectant.

Shuuichi says, “I don’t think I’m going to university.”

His friend inclines her head, an invitation to go on.

“The university my father wants me to go to is almost an hour away from here,” Shuuichi says, clenching his fists. “And it wouldn’t be possible for Takashi to transfer there, because someone in the school district administration is a cousin of his or something. Word got around about his behavior, and they don’t think he’d be a good addition to their student body.”

“Takashi’s relatives haven’t had anything to do with him since he was five,” Hinata says hotly. “What the hell do they know about his behavior? He’d be the best thing to happen to that school in the last hundred years.”

Shuuichi, who completely agrees with her, says, “You’re biased.”

“I’m right.” She taps her fingers anxiously against the table. “Let me guess, your dad—”

“Doesn’t see the problem. Told me I was going anyway.” Shuuichi barks a tense, humorless laugh, sitting back and pushing a hand through his hair. “Could you imagine? Me, leaving Takashi in that house, with those people? With no one but ghosts to talk to?”

It was inevitable that Hinata would find out about Shuuichi and his brother’s ‘gift,’ given how much time they spend together and all the odd things Takashi says on a daily basis. The most remarkable thing to come of the ultimate reveal was the solid three months she spent relentlessly trying to bribe, coerce and blackmail Shuuichi into using his paper magic to send her notes during school hours, because they were put in different classes in their third year.

Now, she frowns deeply, and says, “No. That won’t do. So what’s the plan?”

“I’m working on it,” Shuuichi replies.

“I would be okay,” Takashi pipes up. Shuuichi looks up to find his little brother standing by the table with wide, grave eyes. He’s tugging anxiously at the cuffs of his sleeves. The worry on his face doesn’t belong there. It doesn’t fit someone his age. “If you had to go.”

Shuuichi pushes his chair back and lifts his arm. Takashi rounds the table and allows himself to be tucked against Shuuichi’s side snugly.

“Maybe you would, but I wouldn’t,” Shuuichi says. “I’d miss bugging you too much.”

“I mean it,” Takashi says stubbornly. “I don’t want you to get yelled at anymore.”

“I mean it, too,” Shuuichi replies. “Dad can yell all he wants. You’re stuck with me, squirt.”

Saying it out loud settles something anxious that’s been rattling around in his chest. Knowing what he has to do makes it easier to focus on the steps that come next. For now, he tilts to the side so that he can rest enough of his weight on his little brother that he starts to sag underneath it.

“Nii-san! Stop, you’re heavy!”

“What was that?” Shuuichi says loudly, tilting farther, half out of his chair at this point. “I’m heavy? Is that what you said?”

The doorbell rings, and Hinata says, “No no, I’ll get it, don’t let me interrupt your intricate bonding rituals,” which is a cue that they should stop messing around and go help her carry in the frankly staggering amount of takeout bags a weary-looking delivery boy is wielding on the porch.

“Munchkin, will you get some glasses and the iced tea?” Hinata asks. “Let’s eat in front of the TV like slobs.”

Takashi slides back into the kitchen, skidding a little too far in his socks and knocking the paper towels off the counter, and Shuuichi snorts. It feels like the first time he’s smiled in a year.

Hinata touches his arm. “Hey,” she says seriously. “I’m going to visit Isamu on Thursday, and I’m staying for about a week. You two should come with. Stop thinking about all this stuff for a bit and give yourself a break.”

“I don’t want to bother you guys—”

“Try not to be an idiot for once in your life,” Hinata says with an exaggerated air of total exhaustion. “You know it wouldn’t be a bother. Besides, Isamu has a little sister Takashi’s age, and she’s into all kinds of weird stuff. They’d probably get along like a house on fire.”

Shuuichi thinks a week in the country sounds pretty good, actually. He’s mulling it over when Takashi comes running; with a stack of colorful plastic glasses in one hand, a pitcher of tea in the other, and a box of Koala March tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Can I have these, nee-san?” he asks brightly. He looks nine years old again instead of ninety, all that worry from earlier finally unseated.

“Oh, I guess,” Hinata says with deep reluctance, as if she didn’t buy them specifically for Takashi in the first place. She doesn’t even like chocolate. “Dinner first, though! Put those koalas where I can see them!”

She cares about Takashi like it’s effortless. Like it just makes sense to make space for him in her home and keep his favorite snacks in her kitchen. Considering the place they came here from, it disarms Shuuichi completely.

“We’ll go with you,” he says without thinking.

“Of course you will,” Hinata replies immediately. “I was only asking to be polite. Now eat your food.”

And that’s how they wind up in Hitoyoshi, Kumamoto, of all places. It’s unmistakably beautiful but Shuuichi only gets a brief moment to appreciate the scenery before Hinata is dragging him—and by extension, Takashi—out of the station to the street outside, where a familiar face is waiting.

She releases Shuuichi in order to fling herself bodily at Isamu, who doesn’t so much as bat an eye. Hinata is much taller than her boyfriend, which Shuuichi thinks is just typical of Hinata, but Isamu doesn’t care. She could be seventeen feet tall and weigh a thousand pounds and he would still find a way to hold her.

“Hey,” he says over her shoulder, lifting one hand to wave at the Natoris. “Hug train is pulling out of the station, get yours before it’s gone.”

Laughing, Shuuichi says, “I’m good. Takashi?”

“No, thank you,” Takashi says politely.

“Your loss.” Hinata sniffs, and busies herself with picking up the bags she’d flung to the ground. “Is your sister at home?”

“Mhm,” Isamu says, taking one of Takashi’s bags and slinging it over his own shoulder. “She’s shy. I’m amazed she agreed to meet you guys at all. Bribery was involved.”

Takashi shuffles, glancing sideways at Shuuichi.

“I’ll bet you two-thousand yen that you’re best friends by the end of the day,” Shuuichi says at once, to make the situation a win-win. That always works.

Sure enough, Takashi holds out his hand. “Deal.”

They shake on it solemnly.

Isamu gives Shuuichi a deeply approving look and says, “I’ll have to remember that one.”

Tooru and Takashi are actually best friends within about an hour and a half.

Once the Natoris have been settled into a large guest room and wandered around on a cheap tour of the estate, and Hinata has dumped all of her stuff in her boyfriend’s bedroom, Isamu drags Tooru out of hiding to eat a late lunch with them.

Tooru shuffles into the chair across from Takashi and makes her polite introduction, and then mumbles that she only has a couple of friends so she isn’t sure what they ought to talk about. Takashi blithely replies that he doesn’t have any friends, because he can see yokai and people tend to think that’s strange. Shuuichi and Hinata are both frozen, holding their chopsticks halfway to their mouths as they wait to see which way this is going to go, but Isamu just takes an unhurried sip of tea.

And then Tooru lunges across the table to seize Takashi’s hands, shouting, “You can see yokai? You have to come meet my grandpa!” and all but drags him out of the kitchen, their lunches left untouched.

“You might never get your brother back,” Isamu says mildly. “That’s okay, there’s enough space here for two little weirdos.”

“So you believe in ghosts now?” Hinata demands.

“I don’t believe in things I can’t see for myself,” Isamu replies. He waits a beat, rolling a thought around in his head like a marble, and then adds reluctantly, “But if three people I trust can see them, maybe that’s just as good. I already apologized to gramps for thinking he was just a delusional old man.”

“You did not say that to your grandpa,” Shuuichi says, horrified.

“I didn’t say it, I just said I was sorry for thinking it.” Isamu sits back in his chair, frowning at his plate. “Tooru never needed any proof. She believes him just because she loves him. I think there’s value in that. Figured I’d give it a try.”

When Shuuichi tracks the kids down later, they’ve multiplied. Sasago and Urihime are supervising as Tooru, Takashi, and two little boys of a similar age chase each other around the garden, a half-dozen little yokai running underfoot.

Takashi spots him and brightens, breaking away from the game to jump up onto the porch and slam into Shuuichi’s side. Shuuichi ruffles his hair, because it’s already a windswept mess, and it makes Takashi wrinkle his nose in annoyance.

“Taki-ojisan wasn’t feeling well, so he’s taking a nap,” Takashi explains. He’s flushed from the sun and grass-stained. “We had fun, though. All of his yokai friends had lots of things they wanted to say to him so we played telephone. Mostly they were teasing him, which didn’t seem very nice, but it made oji-san laugh a lot.”

“And who are those two?” Shuuichi asks, nodding at the unfamiliar boys.

“Tooru’s friends from school. They were coming by to see if Tooru wanted to go to the river with them, and she introduced me.” Shyly, Takashi adds, “They’re nice.”

“Hey!” the russet-haired boy calls over. “Are we going swimming or what?”

“Can we, please?” Tooru asks, folding her hands together.

His brother gazes up at him with eyes that are big and hopeful, a look that has worked for him for years. Shuuichi shakes his head ruefully.

“As long as you stay with Tooru, and don’t let your phone get soaked,” he says sternly. “And you know to answer when I call, right?”

“Right,” Takashi says, without attitude, because that’s one of their most important rules. “Can I take Urihime with me? She’ll throw Satoru in the water if I ask her to, Sasago won’t.”

“For that reason alone, you’re taking Sasago,” Shuuichi replies.

It’s a noisy circus troupe of kids who finally leave, armed with towels and a bag of snacks pilfered from the kitchen and an entourage of rowdy spirits that only one of them can see.

Shuuichi leans against the gate, watching them go. He’s wary of the unfamiliar yokai, but with his shiki nearby and clearly unbothered, he doesn’t see a reason to break up the strange congregation. Over the years, he’s had to get used to the way Takashi attracts these things. They come to him like moths to a flame.

Most exorcists hate yokai, but Shuuichi doesn’t. How could he? His little brother is a medium, and some of the only people he can count on to babysit for him are his familiars. Yokai are so much a part of his life that to hate them would be to fill his heart with hatred, and he doesn’t have room in his heart for all that. It’s too full of other things.

Hinata joins him by the door.

“You know,” she says carefully, “I was going to bring this up later, but…the university that Isamu and I are going to is only a half-hour away from here. And the schools here are really good.”

Shuuichi stands in the sun, watches his little brother laugh with children his own age, and exhales.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #natsumeweek #natori shuuichi #natsume takashi #taki isamu #the squad has finally arrived :') bless #my writing #natsuyuu fic #second hand

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stargazing-enby · 4 years

Text

The Mysterious Case of the Unclaimed Jumper

Thanks @april-thelightfury115 for betaing!

Drarry | 2k | Teen and Up | Eighth Year, Pining, Fluff | Read on AO3

“Harry!"

Ron and Hermione halted, leaving Harry no choice but to do the same. He was exhausted, and it had already taken too much energy to get up from their table at the Three Broomsticks so they could make it to the Hogwarts grounds before Filch closed the gates in their faces. The last thing he wanted was to talk to people, lovely as Madam Rosmerta was.

“Sorry to keep you, kids, but someone forgot this on one of the tables. Would you please do me the favour of taking it back to Hogwarts with you? I still have patrons to attend.”

“Uh...sure.” Harry took the khaki jumper she was handing him—gosh, but it was much softer than it looked—and she smiled at him appreciatively.

“How do you know it’s from a Hogwarts student, though?” Hermione asked.

Madam Rosmerta snorted.

“Because none of my patrons are naive enough to step into the inn whenever you kids are taking over the town. Teenagers are loud as all hell, in case you hadn’t noticed!”

“All right,” Harry said quickly, dreading the idea of the exchange turning into a full-fledged conversation. “We’ll take care of it. Have a nice evening, Madam Rosmerta.”

On their way back to the castle, though, Harry started to regret his decision. It was the beginning of the school year, and the transition from summer to autumn had fooled many Hogwarts students into putting on warm clothes to fight the morning chill, which meant practically everyone had ended up carrying jumpers and jackets over their shoulders and around their waists for most of the day. The jumper could be anyone’s.

“What are you going to do with the jumper, anyway? It could be anyone’s,” Hermione echoed his thoughts, turning from Ron to Harry.

“I have no idea,” Harry admitted.

“Maybe you could hand it to one of the Heads of House. Or...” Her voice shifted into that tone of hers that meant she knew she’d come up with a brilliant idea, “we could tell the ghosts to ask around the castle and see if anyone is missing a jumper!”

Even as Harry nodded, Ron shook his head in disbelief.

“Or you could just smell it,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world and he couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to either of them. Harry and Hermione just stared at him. “What?”

“That’s kind of creepy,” Harry said.

“Wha— No it’s not! Don’t you know clothes smell like their owners?” Silence. Ron looked increasingly exasperated. “Come on, don’t tell me your families didn’t smell the clothes lying around the house all the time to figure out who they belonged to!”

“Er…I’m afraid not.”

“That’s probably only a necessity when you have seven kids’ clothes to keep track of,” Hermione offered.

“Yeah…fair enough,” Ron grumbled. “Still, it won’t hurt to try. If it’s from someone our year we’ll probably be able to recognise them.”

Harry doubted that would be the case, but then Hermione and Ron turned to him, expectant, and he didn’t have a choice but to bring a corner of the jumper to his face and give it a sniff.

“...Oh.”

“Well?” Hermione asked.

“It’s…” Harry smelled it again. “It’s familiar.” Familiar and nice, he thought, giving it one extra sniff for good measure. “But I just can’t tell who it is.”

“Oh?” Ron grabbed a sleeve, brought it to his nose. “Hmm…Yeah, I see what you mean. It’s definitely not a Gryffindor bloke. ‘Mione, why don’t you try?”

“I’ll pass, thank you very much.”

“Eh, that’s fine. I’m sure if we leave it in the Eighth Year Common Room someone will claim it sooner or later.”

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, folding the jumper properly over his arm.

As a new conversation started, Harry held the jumper a little bit closer.

***

The stupid thing was still where they’d left it—hung over one of the Common Room couches, the one nearest the hearth—when they came back from Hagrid’s, its pale khaki tone contrasting starkly with the purple sofa.

Hermione led the way to their usual corner of the room, keen on getting some more homework done before bed, and Harry tried to ignore the jumper, just visible out of the corner of his eye. His friends had clearly forgotten about it, and Harry didn’t bring it up again.

But the feel of it, the scent of it, was ingrained in his thoughts, and concentrating on his Potions essay soon proved to be an impossible task. Merlin, he knew that scent. He knew it well; every time he’d sniffed the jumper, it’d been like a word was on the tip of his tongue; like a thought in the back of his mind wouldn’t come forth.

Like there was a need, buried deep within him, that he couldn’t fulfill, because he didn’t know what it was he was yearning for. Who it was he was yearning for.

So he looked. Every few minutes, as much as he tried to avoid it, he looked back at the couch, waiting, hoping that someone would walk past and go, Hey! That’s where it was! And the missing piece inside Harry’s mind would finally click.

But no one picked the jumper up, and when practically everyone had gone to their dorms, and Ron and Hermione had finished neglecting their homework—Ron’s fingers tracing Hermione’s knuckles, her cheek resting on his shoulder, a goofy smile brightening his face—and seemed ready to call it a night, Harry decided he simply couldn’t leave it alone.

“You guys go ahead,” he told them. “I feel like I’m finally making progress with this essay, and if I stop now it’s going to be impossible to pick it up again tomorrow.”

As soon as he was alone, though, Harry stuffed the parchment in his bag and made for the couch at a pace just slightly faster than could be reasonably considered walking.

Ah. The scent was just as enticing as he remembered it from earlier.

Harry basked in it for a few moments. When someone walked into the Common Room—Terry and Hannah, who nodded at him on their way to their dorms—he let go of it as though it had burned him, but as soon as he was alone again he draped it over his lap and raked a hand over it, thinking, wondering.

It wasn’t Hannah’s or Terry’s, Harry knew: not just because they hadn’t recognised it on sight, but because the smell did not belong to either of them. It was…deeper. It was masculine, definitely—a hint of sweat at the armpit area, like the owner hadn’t taken it off straight away after growing hot underneath it—and it was intense, in that it did things to Harry; riled him up, and brought him back down from the high, only to make his heart quicken again as soon as the thrill of it had diluted in his veins.

Sighing, Harry lay on his back and placed the jumper, once again, over the armrest behind his head, just close enough for the scent to reach him.

The hearth crackled. A House Elf vanished the crumbs and dust from the floor with a spell and disappeared again. Nearly-Headless Nick floated by, but didn’t seem to notice him.

The door to the Common Room didn’t open again.

***

“Are we going to do this every night now?” Greg grumbled, dragging the last word—practically dragging himself to the Common Room behind Draco.

“Only until I force Slughorn to give me an Outstanding,” Draco said. “Which won’t take long, because my first essay was clearly perfect, and if that one wasn’t enough for him, this one will for sure. I swear that old man has it out against me!”

A portrait shushed him, and Draco flipped it the bird. It wasn’t like there was anyone sleeping in the bloody halls. Or roaming them, for that matter: only Prefects and Eighth Years were allowed outside the Common Rooms past curfew, and it had been a good hour since he’d seen any of the former around.

“Gardyloo,” he told Sir Cadogan upon reaching the Eighth Year Common Room entrance. Glad as he was that he didn’t have to share a space with people from other years, entering his new Common Room had to be one of the most draining moments of his day. And so, before Sir Cadogan could start spewing nonsense about him and Greg, Draco Silencio’d him, watching as the knight gestured dramatically without uttering a sound until the door had closed.

“Draco, isn’t that your…?”

Draco saw it just as Greg pointed at it.

“My jumper.” Salazar, he’d put that jumper on that morning, hadn’t he? When had he even taken it off? He’d completely forgotten all about it.

He doubted he would ever forget the sight that greeted them, however.

“Uh, Draco…? What’s Potter doing with your jumper?”

“It would seem that he is cuddling it, Gregory,” Draco said, tone flat. Completely out of tune with his raging thoughts.

“More like curling himself around it,” Greg murmured, and Draco could only agree.

Merlin. Potter looked so young when he slept. So small, like he was afraid to take up space. His hair fanned over his forehead and his face, some of it caught between his arm and Draco’s jumper. His chest falling and rising slowly, evenly. His feet pressed close as if to keep their warmth.

Draco shook his head, annoyed that he had allowed himself to be caught off-guard by the sight, and walked up to Potter. Grasped his jumper, and pulled at it.

Potter’s eyes snapped open and stared right into his.

***

Oh.

“Fuck,” Harry slurred, sitting up, half-asleep and entirely too awake, as Malfoy took the jumper from him and just stared at him. “Fuck. Sorry. Madam Rosmerta told me to bring it…the...you’d left it there. It’s yours, right?” he asked, even though he didn’t need to. It was Malfoy’s, of course it was Malfoy’s. His strong, deep, alluring scent was unmistakable now.

“Yes,” Malfoy said. He sounded weird—strained. His eyes were fixed on Harry. “It’s mine.”

“Right,” Harry nodded. Then, after a few moments: “Er. Sorry about that. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

Malfoy snorted.

“Never would’ve guessed.”

“Can we go to bed now?”

Harry whipped his head around—he hadn’t noticed Goyle was there with them.

“Go ahead,” Malfoy told him. “I’m right behind you.”

“M’kay then. G’night, Potter,” Goyle said with a yawn, dragging his feet to the stairs.

“Er…night?”

Malfoy huffed again.

“Don’t mind him. He’s an idiot when he’s sleepy.”

“No offence, but he’s an idiot all the time,” Harry said.

“You’re one to talk.” Malfoy looked at him, then. He wasn’t as stiff now, although he was still weirdly clinging to his jumper, a gesture that reminded Harry of his own fixation with it earlier. “No one with more than two brain cells falls asleep in the Common Room, honestly.”

“Piss off, I was exhausted!”

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” Malfoy retorted. “That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t utilise your perfectly comfortable bed to meet the need, though.”

Harry glared at him, and Malfoy arched an eyebrow.

“Well?”

“Why do you want to know so bad?” Harry bit back—a little childishly, he knew, but it wasn’t like Malfoy was acting much more maturely right now. “Did you enjoy the sight that much?”

“Wh—don’t be preposterous!” Malfoy spluttered, a grimace distorting his sharp features. A grimace that did nothing to distract Harry from the angry blush spreading across his cheeks. From the way Malfoy averted his gaze, clutching at the jumper so hard he was almost twisting it.

“Oh my god,” Harry breathed. “You did enjoy it, didn’t you?”

Malfoy’s panicked gaze turned back to him.

“No, I didn’t!”

Almost as mesmerised as he was amused, Harry stood. He took one more look at Malfoy’s increasingly flushed expression, just to be sure he wasn’t reading it wrong, and then stepped into Malfoy’s personal space. When Malfoy’s breath hitched, Harry, heart in his throat, brought a hand to his flushed cheek. It was soft: softer than the jumper.

Malfoy stood completely still, wide eyes stuck on Harry’s face. A breath stuck in his lungs: waiting.

Heart racing, Harry let his hand stray back. Let himself caress Malfoy’s cheek and jaw, let himself cup Malfoy’s head at the nape, play with the hair there—Merlin, was there anything about Malfoy that wasn’t illegally soft?—and lean forward to take a long, deep sniff of his hair.

Malfoy shivered, and it suddenly hit Harry just how close their bodies were.

“Potter.” a broken whisper.

Harry inhaled again, his own skin tingling with excitement—anticipation—lust for that scent. That scent that belonged to Malfoy, that now had every reason to drive him fucking insane, to draw him near, to leave him hanging. How had he not recognised it straight away? There was nobody else who could elicit such a response from him. Whose mere closeness thrilled him like this.

“I needed to know,” Harry said, voice low, as he let his hand slide down slightly, a caress that ended on the jut of Malfoy’s spine at the base of his neck, fingers splayed over the edge of a shoulder blade. Then, pulling back his hand, taking a step back: “I needed to know who that intoxicating scent belonged to.”

As Harry retreated toward the stairs, Malfoy swayed, eyes closed. Jumper clutched close to his chest.

***

The following evening, when Harry arrived at the Common Room after dinner, a deep grey jumper was draped over the armrest of the couch closest to the hearth.

#otpshipper98 #drarry #drarry squad #drarry fic #drarry fluff #Eighth year #draco x harry #harry potter

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needtherapy · 3 years

Text

The Necromancer’s Apprentice

Xue Yang has seen The Dark House and he’s heard the rumors that a zombie, a witch, and a necromancer live there. It’s stupid, obviously, but...well...maybe he’ll just sneak in one night and find out.

It’s better than doing nothing. It’s better than going back to the group home. It’s better than sleeping on the street.

Aka, three mildly feral twentysomethings are forcibly adopted by one (1) very feral thirteen-year-old Xue Yang.

Read on AO3

Many thanks to @coslyons for co-writing this with me (all the funniest parts belong to them) and @kevinkevinson for beta.

There is a Dark House in Ballard, and people say to avoid it.

It is probably not called the Dark House because evil lurks inside, although there is some debate about that. It is called the Dark House because it is black from threshold to cupola, from shutters to frames, and it looms on a block where whimsical shops of brick and steel are far more common. Unlike the thrift store and the record shop, the hiking outfitter and the vegan patissiere, no ivy reaches toward the roof of the Dark House. Unlike the local yarn store, no dogs sniff the Dark House’s gate, although at least two cats—also black, naturally—are always sitting on the porch.

It may not be fair to judge a house by its color, but the local legends are clear. If you step on the cracks in the sidewalk, the Dark House will steal your soul. The wrought iron gate of twining snakes comes alive under the light of the full moon to snap at unwary joggers. Children who walk alone after dark get eaten, and the yard is full of bones that wail songs of their murders.

Xue Yang sits on a bench, across the street, eating ice cream and admiring the house. He wonders about the sanity of people who mow the lawn and trim the roses, yet painted their pretty little house black, until it occurs to him that he could just go inside and find out.

He waits until dark, not to stay hidden, but because it’s a more terrible idea, and Xue Yang always gives himself permission to do more terrible things whenever he gets the chance. The high iron fence buzzes with a strange kind of energy that crackles in his palms, so Xue Yang wraps his hands tightly in his flannel shirt as he climbs over. His mother always said he was a practical boy, back when she was still around to say things.

Xue Yang lands in the backyard with a quiet thump onto thin and scraggly grass. The center of the yard is dark under the watery moonlight, with the dirt churned up and loose, and for the first time, a tiny twinge of warning pings in the back of his mind.

He ignores it.

With a flick of his wrist, he summons his knife, a long black switchblade that is seven kinds of illegal and which he loves more than anything else he has ever had, not that there is much competition. With nimble and practiced hands, he slides the knife between the door and the frame, twisting just right when he reaches the lock. With a grin of triumph, he turns the handle, shaped like a gaping mouth, and opens the door.

In the center of the room, there is a long sort of table that seems somehow to pull all the darkness of the room toward it. The shadows gather most thickly around a large, human-shaped lump laid out stiffly on top of it. Xue Yang reaches out to poke it and feels something unexpectedly warm give slightly under his finger.

The shadowy lump on the table sits upright with a sudden jerk.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Xue Yang shrieks.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” the shadowy lump shrieks back.

“Why the fuck is everyone yelling?” a voice says, and the room is suddenly filled with light.

The shadowy lump rips off the sheet and turns into a guy in his early twenties with a scraggly little beard and wicked bedhead. The voice belongs to a grumpy-looking woman wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe. She squints at him in the oppressive brightness, glaring for a long moment before apparently deciding to deal with the man on the table first.

“Wei Wuxian, I’ve told you a thousand times that the workshop is not a place for sleeping.”

“Technically—” the man begins, before being abruptly cut off by the woman.

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘yes, Wen Qing,’ then I don’t care. Go to bed.” She rounds on Xue Yang and he takes a tiny, involuntary step back. “You. What are you doing here?”

Before Xue Yang can answer, another guy—this one with long hair, killer tats, and a dedication to the goth look Xue Yang has to admire—runs in with a baseball bat held in his hands like a club.

“Jiejie! Is there something wrong?”

The woman—Wen Qing, she’d said—pinches the bridge of her nose and says, “It’s fine, A-Ning. I’m just trying to figure out what this little hooliganthinks he’s doing breaking into my house and tripping all of my wards while I’m trying to fucking sleep .”

Xue Yang is now convinced that what he’s broken into is some kind of madhouse, and he pastes a charming smile on his face, the one he uses when fists are clenched and the smell of alcohol burns in his nose. The smile whispers words like “anger issues” and “prone to destruction,” and it’s usually weapon enough, but he holds his knife a little tighter too, just in case.

The woman snaps around like she’s felt his fingers grip the handle of the blade and holds out her hand. “Give it to me.”

No. He will not. His chin tips dangerously, his smile grows icy spikes.

Her eyes narrow. “I could just take it.”

They face off for a minute, the tension almost palpable. Actually, Xue Yang thinks, it’s not tension after all. There’s something else in the air. It reminds him of the buzzing fence, and he doesn’t like the way it confuses him.

“Ah, Wen-jie, let him keep her. Can’t you tell? The kid is scared, they’re both scared, and it’s not like he can hurt us.”

Xue Yang is offended. He is not scared, but he’s relieved that Wei Wuxian spoke up all the same, because even though Wen Qing purses her lips and looks annoyed, she drops her hand.

“Fine.” She crosses her arms again. “Wei Wuxian, make sure our little guest leaves. I’m resetting the wards in five minutes and going back to sleep.”

“Yeah, sure.” Wei Wuxian grins and shoots finger guns at Wen Qing. “Sleep well and dream of me.”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “Yes, because I love having nightmares.”

“Oh shoo.” Wei Wuxian flicks his hand at the goth man and Wen Qing. “To bed with you both. I can handle it.”

Their footsteps creak on the wooden floors as they walk further into the house. Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian wait in silence until the footsteps quiet, and then Wei Wuxian turns to Xue Yang. The grin he’d been wearing drops off his face and he looks serious, his eyes shaded and dark.

“Look kid, you should know better than to piss off powerful witches. It tends to be bad for the health.” The side of his mouth just barely tilts upwards, more wry than mirthful, and he looks old now. Old and grey and tired. “So, we’ll just call this a learning experience, and you’ll never come here again, right?”

Xue Yang snorts. “Are you kidding? If you’ve got real magic why the fuck would I leave now?”

“Toddlers shouldn’t swear.”

“I’m almost fourteen, fuck you very much.”

“Ah yes, I am now so convinced you are an adult.” Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “It’s two in the morning. You want to go home and go to bed. There’s nothing here for you to be curious about at all.”

Something sibilant and musical weaves its way through the words, and Xue Yang has his hand on the door knob before he fights off the slithering compulsion.

Holy fuck that was cool.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay,” he says, sauntering back casually, pausing to look at a weird painting of a monster facing off with an axe-wielding guy in front of a lighthouse. He feels a very strong sense of camaraderie with it right now.

Wei Wuxian sighs. “Sure, maybe you’ve got a little gift. But you’re a kid. Don’t you have parents who are going to, you know, notice you’re missing?”

Xue Yang stares him in the eyes, willing himself not to flinch. Something tells him this is a chance he’s never going to have again, a chance that requires honesty.

“No.” Xue Yang lifts his chin stubbornly. “I don’t.”

Wei Wuxian stares back, and Xue Yang gets the feeling that he sees all the years and all the disappointments that fit into that no. He doesn’t care. No one gives you what you want unless you take it.

This standoff lasts forever, or maybe it’s only a few seconds.

“She’s going to kill me,” Wei Wuxian mutters, and a little louder, “You can sleep on the couch tonight, but I’m locking you in the room and if you touch anything, I will turn you into a mannequin.”

He turns to leave, but looks back with a frown. “Wen Qing builds beautiful, elegant wards that you’ll never feel, never even notice if she doesn’t want you to. Mine will hurt. Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

Xue Yang decides, in the principle of magnanimity, to agree. “Whatever.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head and points a finger at Xue Yang. “Go to sleep, kiddo.”

The words hold Xue Yang’s hand and lead him to the couch, make him lay down, and within minutes, he is asleep.

He opens his eyes to piercing sunlight and a pale face inches from his.

“What the fuck!” he yelps, instinctively grabbing for his knife and snapping it open.

“Mr. Wei, he’s awake and noisy,” the face says, and Xue Yang focuses on its features.

It’s the goth guy. His arms have full-sleeve tattoos, matching patterns of stark black geometric lines and circles, but his neck has weird black veins tattooed on it. His eyes, which are still way too close to Xue Yang’s, are so dark they’re practically black.

“Where’s the witch?” Xue Yang asks, sufficiently recovered to be an asshole.

“Boiling children,” Wei Wuxian retorts. He’s leaning over the table and taking notes in a tattered book, poking something with a tiny screwdriver. “It’s the only reason we let you stay.”

“Really?” Xue Yang can’t decide if that’s cool or terrifying.

“He’s always like that in the morning,” Goth Guy says conspiratorially. “By ten, he’s pretty nice again.”

“I’m never nice,” Wei Wuxian grumbles. “A-Ning, can you take our miscreant home, please? The last thing I need is cops knocking on The House door asking if we’re kidnapping children. Again.” “Okay, Mr. Wei.”

Xue Yang panics. He can’t go back there. Not since they found him alone with the fire. He knows what they’ll do, and he can’t go back. He won’t . He ducks under Goth Guy’s arm and has his knife angled under Wei Wuxian’s chin before he’s even processed the motor function commands “get up” and “don’t let him send you away.”

“No! You have to…” He scrambles though thoughts, desperate ideas, each one crazier than the last before he hits on words that work themselves loose from his mouth. “You said I had a gift, you have to teach me to use it.”

Wei Wuxian frowns, but instead of being afraid or angry, he tips his head and whistles, two notes that almost sound like a name. To his great shock and horror, Xue Yang’s knife vibrates in his hand, and his fingers snap open like a broken trap, dropping the knife onto Wei Wuxian’s waiting palm. He carefully folds the blade back into the handle.

“Jiangzai,” he says, almost affectionately.

It doesn’t mean anything, but then it does , and it hits Xue Yang so hard he collapses to the ground. The knife has a name, and he knows it’s right as soon as Wei Wuxian says it. Xue Yang’s heart pounds, and he hates it. He hates this motherfucker who just took his knife away and he hates the Goth Guy who is helping him back to his feet. He doesn’t want to stay anymore, and he shakes off Goth Guy, wishing he could throw his kindness on the floor and stomp on it.

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe you have a little bit more than a little bit of a gift. But you still can’t stay, and I’m not teaching you anything.”

Xue Yang snatches his knife— his Jiangzai—out of Wei Wuxian’s hand and stomps to the door. “Fine. Fuck you.”

He gets as far as yanking the door open and slamming it against the wall before he realizes that there is a person in the way, and she doesn’t look inclined to move.

“Here you go, kiddo,” she says, handing him a bag. “I bought you some clean clothes and a toothbrush. A-Ning will show you where the bathroom is. Come back down for breakfast when you’ve changed.”

This is somehow more terrifying than when she was yelling at him. Yelling he understands. Now she’s just being...creepy. He stares at her belligerently, and she sighs.

“Listen, you little shit,” she says, bending over to look him dead in the eye. She doesn’t have to bend very far, he realizes. She’s actually tiny, even though she seems as big as the Fremont troll. “You will either go willingly with A-Ning, who is very nice, or you can test my patience and get buried in the yard with all the rest of the naughty children who break into my house. Your choice.”

Yeah, that’s more solid ground.

“Fine.” He grabs the bag from her and waves at the Goth Guy. “Lead the way, A-Ning .” He means it to be an insult, but Goth Guy just grins.

Xue Yang hears Wei Wuxian ask, “Wen Qing, what the fuck,” before Goth Guy herds him up the wide staircase, and he doesn’t hear any more of her answer than, “A-Xian, I can’t let him leave. You don’t understand, I did a location…”

This close to the Goth Guy, Xue Yang decides to acknowledge that the pale translucence of his skin is probably not makeup.

“I’m Wen Ning, by the way. I doubt Mr. Wei or jiejie introduced me,” Goth Guy—Wen Ning—says in a casual tone.

“So are you actually dead or what?” he asks Wen Ning, and Wen Ning grins.

“Or what,” he answers enigmatically, and gently shoves Xue Yang in a bathroom with pink tiles and a claw-foot tub.

Once he’s bathed and changed, Xue Yang heads back downstairs. Breakfast is bacon, eggs, and toast, and he doesn’t even pretend it isn’t the best food he’s eaten in a week. It is, in fact, the first food he hasn’t stolen in a week, and that alone is a novelty.

He’s halfway done with his food when Wei Wuxian, who hasn’t touched a bit of his and looks as sullen as an orange, says, “I have been informed that there is some arcane rule about teaching a gift you discover, and my...how did you put it, dear Wen Qing? My immortal soul and earthly being will be in danger if I don’t capitulate to the inevitable?”

He glares at Wen Qing, and she smiles sweetly at him.

“Whatever,” Xue Yang says around a mouthful of eggs. “Are you going to eat that?”

Wei Wuxian passes him the plate of food, and Xue Yang closes his eyes in bliss. Food is amazing.

“There are conditions—don’t look at me like that, Wen-jie. I agreed, okay? I get to set conditions. First of all, you do whatever I tell you. If I tell you to sell turnips on the street corner, you better sell some goddamn turnips. Second, you don’t touch anything unless I say it’s okay. A lot of this stuff,” he waves his hand around the white and yellow room, which looks surprisingly cheerful for a kitchen in a black house, “is priceless and dangerous, so…”

Wen Qing clears her throat and glares at Wei Wuxian.

“Uh...don’t touch anything.” Wei Wuxian finishes, snaking a piece of bacon from Xue Yang’s plate and shoving it into his mouth before disappearing back into his workroom.

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “I promise he’ll actually teach you stuff once he pulls his head—” She visibly checks herself. “Once he stops being an idiot. More bacon?”

The rest is on AO3

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #xue yang #wei wuxian #wen ning #wen qing #Seattle #modern au #modern with magic #found family #the untamed fic #13k words #I just think teenage Xue Yang would have been very different with a family

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Rough Night

Bucky Barnes x (f)werewolf reader

Summary: Your life is already so weird, thankfully Bucky loves you through it all.

Warning: fluff, reader being a sass master w/ no filter

side note: couldn’t think of any cool avenger powers and then brain went werewolf so here we are

Masterlist

If you had a dollar for every time you’d ended up in the woods with ripped clothes and no shoes, well, let’s just say you could probably afford a real nice two bedroom apartment in some real pleasantly fancy building with a great view and all. Too bad green doesn’t just rain down from the sky every time the full moon comes round to knock you back into another world of blurry confusion.

You won’t lie to yourself, being what you are is strange and not very common in the slightest, obviously. It’s even weirder that you weren’t bitten one night and turned just like that, oh no, all passed down through the bloodline of other strange relatives. So you’re gifted with the curse, forced to inevitably change into a furry beast every single full moon, so what you’re still a mostly pleasant individual.

Well luckily for you, being born with the gift does happen to have its perks which do come in handy. For instance, you’re incredibly strong, quick on your feet, and have heightened senses, plus the ability to shift on command. It’s not all bad, well......most of the time.

Honestly you truly thought life couldn’t get much stranger for you and your whole hidden secretive situation, until low and behold some random red head found your little hideaway in a remote mountain side village far off in the Himalayas.

Everything was completely fine and under control and then BAM, she showed up with some important documents and something called an Avengers initiative and well shit, guess some time spent with the real world couldn’t hurt. I mean come on, some more friends seemed like a nice idea and uh, somehow they knew who you were so too late to run and hide.

Also at the time, considering you lived like a recluse on the edge of the village and of course for good reason, but damn if the red head didn’t just hand you an open invitation for some real adventure. Who were you to say no?

Fortunately for you, all seemed to go in your favor and fantastically enough, they had a nice big strong cell for you on nights when the wolf was inevitably bound to come out. A fridge full of plentiful snacks, a training room to lay off some steam, and a big safe and secure room all your own. It was perfect. Only problem was, there happened to be a very attractive and very wary of you super soldier who undoubtedly caught your attention.

How could you not, he smelled divine, muscles for days, thick thighs that could make a girl swoon, and he just seemed like the best goddamn hugger alive. Okay listen, maybe you were touch starved and deprived of human affection but dammit if your little monster heart didn’t skip a beat every time he was near you.

And yes, the few months it took to get him to crack was just down right torturous. But with some coaxing from Steve and encouragement from Sam, the winter soldier at long last did talk to you. Turned out he thought you were scared of him all along, how hilariously ironic you thought when he told you that.

But as time progressed and you both opened up more and more, a blossoming relationship sprouted forth, eventually evolving and manifesting into a big beautiful flower called love. Cheesy yes, but you couldn’t have dreamed of anything better.

And seriously, he wasn’t freaked out about your whole hidden hush hush secretive gift that usually either goes in your favor or ends up causing you major legal trouble. The man himself, Bucky Barnes, thought you were a marvel to behold, so odd and fantastic that he couldn’t stay away even if he tried.

And for that you could love him forever, especially now after a full moon while you’re out in the middle of nowhere. Hoping that the team will send your hundred year old boyfriend out to find you in the brisk dark morning after a grand unrememberable adventure. Which would be very nice of course, considering you have not a damn clue what you’ve done.....or where you are.

Cracking your back, you stretch your hands up to the dawning sky as a tired yawn escapes you. It’s been a long night and you look like a wild woman with your hear a fluffy nest and your clothes ripped in various unrevealing places thankfully.

Your surroundings are simply trees and small scraggly bushes, green grass underneath your bare feet and a small stream flowing in the near distance. With a second to listen, you can hear a highway a couple miles away to the east, guess that’s a start.

Rubbing your eyes you set out in that direction for about twenty minutes before a blue and gold Mercedes comes into view from the side of a country back road, it stops when you guess the driver spotted you from the tree line. Keeping a wary eye on the fancy sports car, you keep walking towards it until a figure gets out and leans against the passengers side door all cool and casual, then on further inspection you realize the driver is Bucky.

Yes! My knight in shining armor is here!

Trudging through the grassy field in the dewy morning light, he watches your every move, eyes crinkling in amusement as you come to stand a couple feet in front of him. Undoubtedly looking a bit wild, and very tired as you fold your arms underneath each other, giving your dark haired lover a shy almost fangy smile.

“I know I look like a hot mess.” You mutter with a shrug, biting your lip as you dart your eyes to the fields behind him, slightly embarrassed of the current disheveled state you’re in.

Bucky smirks before pushing himself off the car and engulfing you into a big Bucky bear hug to your pleasant surprise, “Y/N I’m just glad you’re okay and nothing bad happened to you.” He mumbles into your shoulder as you press yourself closer to him, letting yourself have this wonderful moment to relax and feel at ease.

Slowly pulling back to look up at him, you smile, “Aww Buck you were worried about me?”

He returns the grin, leaning down to press his head flush against yours, “We all were, me more then anyone else of course...and maybe for the general civilians nearby.”

You laugh nervously, “Oh right, yeah. Well hey, I didn’t destroy anyone's car this time. I think I’ve made progress.”

He pauses for a brief moment indicating he’s not sure if he should tell you something and this does make you nervous before Bucky finally lets out a little laugh, “You ate a whole cow Y/N.”

Snorting in surprise you quickly pull your head from Bucky’s, “What? Did I? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Yeah, uh I wish.” He admits with a casual reassuring squeeze to your arm, “We tracked you with Sam’s suit tech, yunno Red Wing, and uh....you seemed to be having fun.”

Mentally and just about physically cringing at yourself, you purse your lips together in slight embarrassment, “Shit. Was it gross?” You ask, making a face that causes him to chuckle.

“A little.” Adds Bucky with another casual shrug to make you feel less terrible.

“Is the farmer going to see everything, I mean shit they’re gonna be so pissed.” You worry, biting your lip anxiously as you break eye contact from him. “Why am I like this.”

“Uh, that’s not going to be a problem.” Inquires Bucky causing you to find his blue eyes once again.

Eying him up suspiciously you raise a brow, “And why’s that.....Bucky what did I do?”

Taking a breath he gives you a small apprehensive smile, “Y/N...you uh, kind of ate......everything.”

“I what?” I did not! No way, right?

Giving you a quick kiss on the cheek he smiles affectionately, “I’m going to be honest with you here it looked like a kid with a piece of cake who has no impulse control, and loves cake....like a lot.....Rodney almost puked.”

Rolling your eyes you fake glare at him, “Oh god who all watched my little horror show?”

“Mostly everyone.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s like a car crash Y/N, we don’t want to watch but we can’t look away. Sorry doll.” He confesses apprehensively, though honest and sincere knowing you do feel bad for what you do when out of it.

“No.” You say honestly, pausing for a moment, “It’s fine. Seriously Buck, I’m just relieved you guys keep taps on me while I’m out, god knows I can’t help what I do and where I go. It’s nice to have people making sure I don’t injure any innocent bystander.”

“Yeah I guess so huh...alright Y/N/N,” Chirps Bucky with a beaming grin as he attempts to shift the mood to a less dull one, “let’s get out of here, I mean unless you want to sniff around the place for awhile...it is a nice forest over there and all but I guess we can stay and I’ll let you...”

“Alright Barnes, can-it or maybe I’ll bite you.” You tease with a playful squeeze of his bicep before breaking out of his strong grasp.

“Depends on the context maybe I’d enjoy it.” Adds Bucky sarcastically, side eying you with a half smile as you move to open the car door.

Shaking your head in playful disapproval you lightly shove him aside, “Believe me you wouldn’t.”

——

The ride back to the Avengers base or headquarters or facility, who the hell knows at this point, was actually quite smooth and peaceful. Then again you fell asleep as soon as Bucky made it onto the highway, and continued to catch a much needed nap for the next hour ride home.

No one ever said you were easy alright, but let’s be real, Bucky would let you put him through anything and he’d be happy about it.

After parking and walking down the sidewalk past some early morning trainees catching a run, the two of you made it into the Avengers official HQ where all your rooms and other luxury’s are located. But of course not before walking past the facilities giant living space and huge kitchen.

Just keep looking forward, keep walking, walk faster you idiot!

“Y/N!” Shouts Sam in that stupidly peppy obnoxious early morning voice of his, no doubt gaining the attentions of Steve and Natasha who are seated at the kitchens bar talking about some mission report.

Pausing in the large doorway that’s not giving you or Bucky a whole lot of hiding space, you take a deep breath before turning to acknowledge him, “You’d think people would be sleeping considering it’s only six in the morning.”

Chuckling, Sam raises his protein shake, “Weird,” He says while giving you a knowing smirk, “we missed you during training this morning.”

Nat and Steve conceal their amusement as you simply roll your eyes, “Yeah well it was a long night.” You mutter unenthusiastically, earning the tiniest laugh from Bucky which causes you to throw him a glare. Knocking that smile right off of his handsome stubbly face.

“Well we got all these shakes here if you two love birds want one. Hate to have em go to waste.” Adds the smiling man with a nod, if he doesn’t just love seeing you looking like shit. No Sam I do not accept this invitation for you to tell me how crazy I look.

Sam means well of course, but damn he loves teasing you in front of Bucky for a fun reaction out of him. And it’s kind of working, but not on Bucky.

“It’s fine Y/N, you don’t have to have one if you don’t want to.” Calls Natasha before taking a sip from her mug. “Just ignore Sam, he’s been annoying since the gym.”

Before Sam’s even able to speak you quickly narrow your eyes at him, holding up a finger before making hasty steps across the room. Stopping right in front of him, “Give it.” You deadpan.

Brows raised in surprise he glances from a confused Bucky, then back to you again, “Listen I only made so much, Y/N this is my breakfast okay you can’t just...”

Ignoring his rushed rambling you pull out the whole glass blender full of protein shake before taking a step back as the whole room goes quiet, then never breaking eye contact you heartily drink up the whole entirety of its cold contents without missing a beat. Yeah, definitely needed that.

After you’re finished you lick your lips in satisfaction, taking a step closer towards a speechless Sam as you set the blender back in its place. Giving him a satisfied smirk before walking back over to Bucky where you tug on his jacket to follow you down the hall and away from everyone else.

Sometimes you can’t help but be a little dramatic.

——

Laying sprawled out on yours and Bucky’s giant mattress, you stare up at the ceiling as he folds your clean and freshly scented laundry, your mind swirling with thoughts of what duties you have to be apart of today. Blah, work.

Sighing gently you glance at Bucky to see if he heard you, not getting anything from him you sigh again with more grandeur this time. Nothing. Rolling your eyes you suck in a deep breath before practically soft yelling out your exhale like the dramatic little beast you are.

Glancing over to Bucky, you watch as he turns around to put some of your pants away in a drawer. Okay then, that’s how it’s gonna be. Quickly sitting up, you smirk a devilish grin before silently reaching over to pick up a small pillow, once in hand you don’t think twice before launching it at full speed directly headed for the back of his head.

But before your decently soft projectile can smack his precious flowing locks does a metal arm swiftly reach up to catch it mid flight. Oh, shit. Bucky’s head turns to you, brow raised at you before tucking the pillow underneath his arm, and going back to his usual domestic duties for the day.

Okay, killer of fun Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frustrated from lack of a reaction out of him, you stand up on the bed like a warrior about to give a great battle cry. Eyeing his cute butt up for a moment, you smirk once again before launching a sneak attack pillow right for his head. It sails magnificently across the room before a metal hand stops it in its place.

Well, shit.

This time he gives you a proper look, full of mischief and a new profound playfulness that sends an excited thrill throughout your entire being. As fast as one of Thor’s lightening bolts does the pillow soar in your direction, but conveniently for you he’s forgotten just how quick you can really be. This is just what you wanted.

Dodging to the left you watch in almost slow motion as the fluffy cloth just misses your face, instead opting to smack against the back wall with a loud thud. Snapping your attention back to Bucky he narrows his blue eyes at you suspiciously while you let out an admittedly scary villainous chuckle.

Let’s party my love.

He hands you a smirk right before shifting his body to the right, arm cocked back and thrust forward just as quickly, launching his second pillow attack without an ounce of mercy. You see it coming a mile away and as graceful as a dancer do you flip off the bed, landing perfectly on the carpeted floor just as the pillow smacks hard against the door. Thwack!

Slowly standing, eyeing him up like a lioness to her prey, you give him a satisfied smile, “Missed.” You tease.

Letting out a breathy laugh, Bucky takes a cautious step in your direction as he tests the waters, “Y/N what are you doing?”

“Getting your attention you ass.”

Chuckling he takes another step forward, “Was I ignoring you?” Duh, that’s why I, oh wait he’s playing you.

“Well you certainly weren’t doing anything interesting.” You sass as he steps again closer, this time about an arms length away.

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, “Okay that’s fair, but was the pillow really necessary?” He asks, though his tone is still humorous.

Not falling for his alluring charm you tilt your head to the side, a knowing smile breaking out across your face as he tries to register what your true intentions are. “Yes, and so is this.” You quip before dropping to the floor for a side sweep of his legs, in an instant he’s on the ground and looking wide eyed up at you.

God he looks beautiful. No, focus.

“Y/N!” He whines breathlessly, brows furrowed as he holds himself up by his elbows, “Now you’re gonna get it!”

Taking a quick step back you snort, “Oh really now?”

And he’s fallen for the plan.

“Yes, and when I get you, you won’t be laughing anymore.” He grumbles, trying to keep himself from laughing as well.

“Alright then hot stuff try and bring me down.” You snap back playfully as he rises to his feet, “First one pinned has to run with Sam later, and we both know how much fun he is to run with.”

Bringing his arms up into a defensive position he readies himself for an attack, “Yeah, I’d rather not be his jogging buddy today. I mean it is raining outside, but I know you’d look real nice after a wet run.” Teases Bucky with a smirk.

“Touché you smartass.” His lips twitch into a grin as you ready your own stance. “Now let’s dance.”

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #The Avengers #the avengers imagine #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x you

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

Text

come on in, folks, i got some kind of goof ass Beetlejuice/Evil Dead crossover for you to enjoy.

He’s eighteen, and it’s Saturday, which means that he and Lydia are wandering around Manhattan, looking for trouble to get into. Lydia, eleven and ever his little shadow, is standing next to him, as they take a moment, on the busy New York street corner, to sip their boba and think about their next move. They were meant to be watching some horror movie that had looked alright from the previews, but ended up being so stupid, it wasn’t even fun, and the Deetz siblings had found themselves walking out, one hour poorer but a bucket of overly butter saturated movie popcorn richer. “I still can’t believe how bad that was,” Lydia says, again, huffing, because they’d actually paid money to see that stinker, instead of sneaking in, which is their usual habit. “Ya get one big name attached an’ everyone apparently stops givin’ a shit. Musta figured th’ droolin’ masses would eat it up,” he agrees, and he slurps up the last of his tapioca balls, and then proceeds to eat the plastic straw. “Is it too much to ask that characters actually be interesting, and, I don’t know, behave like normal human people?” Lyds bitches, as BJ takes a bite out of his cup, too. She glances up at him, dryly. “I mean, I guess maybe my standards for normality are low, but still.”

He grins at her. “Whatever could you possibly mean, sister dearest?” he puts on a posh, almost transatlantic accent, and she rolls her eyes, and sucks boba up in her straw, then shoots the pearls at him like a pea shooter. He snorts and laughs.

It’s a good day, despite the letdown at the movies. It’s nearly that time of year, just about the start of his seasonal depression, as the sun becomes shy and things go cold and gray. Still, there’s some time left with the sunshine, so he’s drinking it up, savoring it, and it feels good, to stand here with Lyds, and talk about nothing. “Alright, come on, let’s second act it,” he grins, and she perks up. “I think Wicked’s playing!” “Wicked’s always playin’.” “Well, I’m not sitting through Hamilton, it’s a Saturday. I’m not learning if I don’t have to.” “Totally fuckin’ fair. Music Man, maybe?” “Hugh Jackman’s weirdly brick shaped head freaks me out.” “There’s gotta be a show we can sneak into,” BJ frowns, scratching at the scruff of his chin, and then he catches a scent he’s never smelled before, as Lydia puzzles through their remaining options. It’s like death, sort of, but not. Like death warmed over, or death, refried. He takes his sister’s hand, and leads her away from the street corner, following the smell, nose in the air, pupils blown wide, and Lydia laughs. “Great, time to go poke a dead thing. That’s more fun than The Last Four Years, at least.” She’s seen him go like this before, and thinks she knows what to expect.

Neither of them know how to react when they follow the scent down an alleyway and see the violent fight happening in front of them.

Parked at the far end of the alleyway is a car, some 70’s make that he doesn’t know enough about such things to name, and between it, and the Deetz siblings, is an one handed man absolutely going feral on a group of three refried dead smelling zombie… things. “Deadly-vu,” he hears Lydia whisper, as they watch the man perform a scissor kick that sends a zombie head flying. It bounces like a basketball against the brick wall that makes the alleyway, rolls, and lands at the Deetz sibling’s feet. There’s a beat, as they stare at it, and it stares back, before the head on the ground opens its mouth and speaks. “DEMON!” it shrieks, and then it makes the life ending choice to roll at Lydia, teeth bared, and his boot is going through it, crushing through the skull like an overly juicy bug under his heel. He takes a second to wipe the gore from his sole onto the pavement. “Maybe Wicked could be good,” he turns and says to Lydia, who responds by ducking behind him, because the body the head formerly belonged to seems to be stumbling at them, clutching something in it’s boiled and infected and puss covered arms, and it thrusts the thing at BJ, before falling down and collapsing into dust. It’s a book. Some kind of creepy old demon book, from the look of it. He wrinkles his nose in vague disgust, and then takes a sniff. If the zombie things are refried death, this thing is a whole fucking Mexican food buffet of it, and it makes his head spin in a way he’s never felt before. He kind of likes it. He’s about to give the cursed reading material a tentative lick before a boom rings out from in front of them- the one handed man has pulled a sawed off shotgun off his back, and dispatched another corpse thing. There’s one left, and it’s circling the man, who by this point is so blood covered, he looks like he was tricked into being prom queen, or something.

“Is it just me, or do you freaks just keep gettin’ uglier?” the man quips, and the corpse lunges, a stumbling move which earns it the butt of the shotgun to the jaw, which goes flying. The zombie is shot through the gut, and drops, but is a twitching, squirming mess. BJ’s seen enough horror movies to know that thing is getting back up. The stranger has apparently, too. He takes a moment to reload the shotgun, then double taps, blowing clean through the thing’s skull. He blows at the slightly smoking barrels of his sawed off, twirls it, and holsters it, re-slipping it onto his back. It’s a pretty cool move, actually, and the siblings watch in rapt attention. It takes the three remaining people (well, two people, one demon,) in the alley a moment to actually focus on each other, and there’s silence, before the stranger speaks. “Uh,” says the man, covered in blood, and Lydia peaks out from behind BJ, and stares at him, with big eyes. “Kids,” he hears the man mutter. “Great, just what I need, a coupla kids, gettin’ in my way.. Hey, kiddies,” he says, louder, with a smile, which might be really charming when he’s not soaked in rot and blood, but the effect at the moment is not as sincere and friendly as he clearly thinks it is. “Looks like you two little heroes managed to wrangle my book away from those deadites. You wanna do your pal Ash a favor, and hand it over?” He makes a “come here” motion with his stump arm, and then seems to realize that’s not so appealing, because he tucks that appendage behind his back, worried, suddenly, about scaring them. As if a man with a missing hand is the weirdest thing they've seen in the last five minutes.

“What the fuck,” Lydia says, and BJ can’t help but agree with that sentiment. Also, he feels a vague sense of sudden responsibility for this weird old tome. It doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of thing a human should have. Maybe those zombies… deadites? Maybe they were trying to get back what was stolen from them. Though he’s not charitable enough to assume that they’re the good guys in this feud. The stranger, Ash, takes a careful step forward. “It’s alright,” he says, like he’s talking to a wild animal he’s trying to tame, and not a teen and preteen, respectively. “I’m not gonna hurtcha. Just need to get my book back.”

A sudden screeching wind roars down the alleyway, and both living humans react, ducking, as it bellows and swirls around them, kicking up dust and trash and chunks of leftover deadite. “Demon! Aid us!” BJ feels a presence in front of his face, something he can’t see, but a great, ancient something, reaching out to him, demanding, begging, pleading, for him to assist in whatever macabre goal it wants to meet. He responds by sticking his unglamoured tongue out at it. “Ewww, gross. No.”

The thing shrieks again, and makes a beeline for Lydia, which is just about the stupidest thing it could have done, because he drops his glamour fully and snarls, gives the ancient being a psychic push back, and he sends the thing that cannot be seen flying, out of the shady darkness of this alleyway, past what he assumes to be Ash’s car, and out onto the city street, into the sun. It shrieks and moans and curses him. He flips it off, as it dissipates. The vibe in the air, however, tells him it’s not “dead,” just gone.

Ash straightens up and looks at him. BJ’s already slipped his human disguise back on, so the effect is that Ash has just seen what seems to be a slightly too pale and definitely overweight human teen somehow push back an ancient evil, totally unaffected. Now it’s his turn to let out a confused, “What the fuck?”

“Come on, BJ!” Lydia grabs her big brother’s arm and pulls him away, running from the gore and the confused zombie slayer. “Wait, kids-!” Ash rounds the corner, after them, but the Deetz siblings are already gone, disappeared into thin air, flash stepping the span of blocks in the blink of an eye, and they don’t stop until Lydia, sick from the teleportation, gives his hand a squeeze. They appear on a rooftop, confusing and traumatizing some pigeons that had been roosting.

“Wait, why did we run?’ BJ asks, and Lydia looks at him like he’s a moron. “Because that guy was clearly a monster hunter! And kind of really good at it!” she says. He mulls that over, and smiles. “Worried for your big bro?” he bats his eyelashes at her, and she responds by slugging him in the gut, which he reacts the barest amount to. “Last thing I want is to explain to mom and dad how you ended up with a shotgun blast through your skull,” she says, and crosses her arms, before leaning forward, to study the book he’s still holding. “So. What is that?” He grins. “Wanna open it an’ find out?” Read the rest of the first chapter here!

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice au #bj deetz au #ashley williams #ash williams #evil dead fanfiction #lydia deetz #emily deetz #charles deetz #my writing

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kyoupann · 3 years

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Please do more of the writing head canons. It’s really interesting to see other people’s ideas on the topic, so if you can be bothered, I would highly appreciate more, thanks bye <3

Y’all don’t know how happy I am to talk about these headcanons, they are my babies and I love them so much :’) thanks for asking g <3

Handwriting Headcanons

Same dynamic as before, try to guess whose handwriting it is before reading and tell me how many you got right! <3

You can find the first post here (no need to check it tho)

Quick disclaimer: halfway through making my initial notes, I remembered I had one (1) single lesson of graphology in my applied linguistics class, but that was a year ago and some information might be off. I just thought it was neat to include.

Another quick disclaimer: I don’t know much about Hylian, but I like to think it has a similar stroke system to Japanese, so the pressure and accuracy of your strokes play a major role in your handwriting (among other things, ofc.) so there are some parts where I focus more on that

(First Row, from left to right)

Sky

Our first boy is mother hen! Believe it or not, he has the prettiest handwriting out of all of them! Sky: probably has nice, even elegant handwriting because Sun forced him to practice when they were little. In the end, that paid off because his handwriting is the prettiest one. There’s no pressure, but he is confident in what he writes that his lines aren’t thin. Mistakes? what is that? this boy has impeccable grammar and spelling. No mechanic errors to be found in his letters! I’d like to think that many of Hyrule’s classic/staple poems were originally written by the firt king aka sky child. Like, imagine, after a retiring from being a Person of Power (as the first ruler), Sky finds comfort in the arts: revisits his old woodcarvings and starts writing poetry about the world he still doesn’t fully understand. wowie. tldr: sky writes poetry and you can pry it from my cold dead hands.

This is what one of his letters would look like:

Next one is the one and only, our Hero of Time

2. Time

I’ll die on the “Time didn’t know how to read and write” hill. His handwriting is simple, not pretty but not messy. It has some grammar and spelling mistakes here and there. Can become unreadable if writing in a hurry, he sorts of forgets spaces between words are a thing/letters have different sizes and lowercase letters end up the same size as capital letters. I’m not saying he sometimes forgets to write articles: he just doesn’t want to. Honestly, he just has this dad-neat handwriting. He is a gentle dad and writes like a dad, if he puts too much pressure onto the paper, his handwriting become too sharp/angle-ish and ends up looking ugly. And as much as he would like to not care about it, in the end he does (:

Malon taught him how to write and it was quite the experience. At first he didn’t want to because he was ‘too old’ to learn and it was torture at first, but now look at him devouring his cowboy novels.

A chunk of his handwriting:

*sniff* such a dad quote.

3. my mansss, your 4x1 deal at Target: Four

Look, my boy is patient! He could do some nice and fancy lettering if he wanted to. He was taught that handwriting and spelling said a whole lot about him as a person, you know, like a first impression kinda thing; so he always proof reads more than twice before sending a letter. Super rare grammar mistakes.

The faster he writes, the more slant his writing becomes. Under stress/ when not sure how to write things down, run-on sentences are everywhere and his handwriting is inconsistent in general (I don’t headcanon each part of him having completely different handwriting because handwriting becomes muscle memory over time. It’s just slightly different variations of the same, like idk Vio’s handwriting is neater than Green’s and Red writes hearts instead of any dot/circle and no, I do not take constructive criticism on that, jk i do.) Adding on to each of the colours’ handwriting, I’d think Red and Green write with words slanted to the right( inclined), Vio is a mix of the opposite, so reclined and straight, and my mans blue a true neutral writes straight (kinda like Time’s).

The logic behind this is that inclined writing supposedly means honesty and need for giving (and getting) affection; reclined means, as you can probably imagine, defensiveness and repression of true feelings, but also shows great concentration; straight handwriting means self-control, observation and reflection as well as distrust and indifference. But as complete being (tm), Four just writes as in the image example which is not too straight and not too inclined, and I believe that’s a good middle for him

HOWEVER, if I’m feeling in the mood for crack, I totally accept this boy to have the ugliest, chicken scratches-looking handwriting! :’D It’s just funny to think that someone like him, who has to be precise and careful in his work, can't write neatly to save his life.

One of his letters would look like this:

Also I just LOVE how his hero titles look in this font ksksks

and that’s

(Middle row, from left to right)

4.- Mister Bunny Boy - Legend

His uncle taught him how to write. I’d call his handwriting pretty and neat at a first glance, but he presses too hard on the paper, most of the time staining the back or the following page. Sometimes will retrace some words if he doesn’t like how it looks (which only makes it messier). According to my notes, a thick or strong handwriting represents determination/commitment.

As I also headcanon him to know many languages, mechanical errors are more present than grammar ones; that is, weird capitalisation of words. Punctuation is somewhere in between; uses too many commas when he should just cut the sentence. he mixes punctuation from two languages or more in writing when too distracted (or too focused, because, well, pressure.); when he writes for himself, he has almost no problem following said language’s punctuation rules. Also, this is just polyglot culture, and I’m projecting a bit, but when he forgets a word in the language he’s writing, he just replaces it with its equivalent in another language because we don’t care about fluency, but rather functionality. in this household (more on that in my language hc, ksksks).

An example of his writing:

so powerful

4.- Mr. Wolfman, howl me a song - Twilight

I don’t have much for him because 1) I don’t think he writes a lot and 2) he is a hands-on/visual learner, I’ll die by that. He only learnt how to write because Ulli insisted it was important and he was not about to disrespect his momma; he IS That Guy, but doesn’t really write enough to have neat handwriting.

Many people seem to overlook the fact that his house is filled with books and write him as completely illiterate (which if not explored properly, ends up feeling a bit disrespectful and full of prejudice, but go off I guess; and that’s on my core Headcanons for Twi); however, he sticks to simple sentences. Knowing how to read and understanding a text is different from knowing how to write them. Like, when we would see a semicolon and understand its position in the text, but didn’t understand the nature of it. Is this clear? idk i’m sorry. So yeah, boy reads a lot, writes very little.

As for his Actual Handwriting, as opposed to Legend, his handwriting is thiccc but not because he presses into the paper; he is just that messy, he has no sense of ink-flow-control, he does what he can with what he has. To the untrained eye, his handwriting illegible letters like v, n, u are very similar; when he makes notes for himself he does it in the form of doodles or small ‘icons’. But! He reads a lot, so he rarely makes spelling mistakes (: he is your go-to guy when you don’t know how to write a word.

An example of his writing:

He keeps a journal, sue me.

3. My first born- Warrior

Okay, first off... I accept this is completely biased. I saw the idea and said “That’s True”. If you haven’t, please read Effective Communication; or The Lack of Thereof by htruona, a fic where the boys reflect on the language barriers between them. It’s incredibly funny and probably what made me start making these silly notes. So, if you’ve read that fic, you know where I’m going.

My man, Warrior, can’t fucking write. I mean, he physically can, but it’s very bad. Here’s the reason for it, tho, and it’s not his fault: Technically, he knew how to write alright but he joined the military and whatever note he had to write had to be concise or in the worst case coded. He mixes capital and lowercase letters. If we consider that he joined the military at around 15, his handwriting and grammar had yet to continue developing. Just think about how after summer break, your handwriting was always slightly worse than before because you didn’t write for an entire month. Now think what 2 years can do to that. Hmm, not cool, dude. He makes quick notes, when writing he’s all gotta go fast. he is the lighting mcqueen of writing; good for emergency messages, not ideal for love letters. His punctuation also suffered a lot, he only know full stops and commas and hardly uses them. A sentence for him is either one word or fifty without a single comma, no inbetween.

His hero title and an example of his writing.

(Bottom row, or what I like to call “fuck cursive” row)

7.- Magic man - Hyrule

I’m basic and I do agree with the popular headcanon of he not knowing how to write because well, y’all know his Hyrule. He only knows how to write his name because that’s important, same with numbers. I don’t see why would he write/read except checking the roadsigns. (he can even use this as an excuse for getting lost frequently; he thought it said something different.) But I do think that because his habitual reading consists of roadsigns, his ‘punctuation’ is weird af and places full stops/points/periods at the same level of his words and his commas/question/exclamation marks below them. Yk, creative license. Sadly, I don’t have much about my magic hands man so here’s what his writing would look like if he actually wrote a paragraph:

Man, I love Hyrule.

8.- Man, I don’t understand this boy - Wild

Cursive? ain’t nobody have the time for that. He woke up and had to save the world in his underwear while not knowing how to read nor write. He learnt during his journey and was taught by multiple people from different regions, that explains his inconsistent spelling of things and names for them. So Wild knows language variations for many items and uses them interchangeably (even if they aren’t exactly the same). Another headcanon related to writing/language skills that I’ve been thinking about is that if the shrine was able to cause amnesia, I’m sure there were other areas in the brain affected which leads us to language disorders such as agraphia and aphasia. But that’s a story for another day ksksksk

An example of his writing (after relearning)

9.- The best of sons - Wind

I don’t have much for him and that makes me sad. Look, he’s a kid, doing kid things like stabbing dudes on the head. This boy was taught cursive by his grandma, but could never do it and no one needs it anyway. His handwriting is good enough for his pirate life, Tetra is the one to handle Official stuff, he just gotta sign. Spelling and grammar mistakes abound. He is still relatively young and can correct his handwriting if he desires. But same as Wild, with how many times he’s been thrown out and hit his head, I’m starting to consider some language disorder for him as well.

An example of his writing:

aaand that’s it.

Thanks, y’all for showing interest in this silly thing uwu it was fun to finally talk about this. If you ever want to discuss ideas/headcanons(especially if they are related to language and culture), I’m your person (: I’m always happy to hear new headcanons. Feel free to add anything to this post either in a reply or in a reblog, I’d love to hear from y’all <3<3

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imma-fucking-nerd · 4 years

Text

Canine Conundrum (Part 2)

(Connor x Reader x Nines)

A/N: Ask and yee shall receive! heres part 2! (Electric boogaloo)

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Loud knocks at your door jolted you awake from your slumber. The sudden sound also alerting the two dogs who layed either side of you. It seemed like you must have fallen asleep in the same position on the couch you had been the night before. You glanced from the husky on your right to the shepard on you left in confusion before memories of the previous day came back to you. A grin made its way to your face.

"Morning boys," you said, stifling a yawn.

Another couple of heavy knocks sounded at the door and you pulled yourself from off the couch. As you trudged over to the door your two canine companions followed close behind, eyeing the door cautiously. The sight made you smirk slightly.

Upon opening the door you were faced with none other than Hank.

"Hey Hank, what brings you here? And so early?" you glanced over to your clock on the wall that read 4:36am as you spoke.

"Got a call about a lead that might have info on where their bodies are," he grumbled, motioning to the two who sat by your feet.

"Oh, okay. Let me just go get dressed real quick," you opened your door wider for the older man to step inside however he just gave you a funny look.

"And where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked, really hoping you weren't about to say what he thought you were going to say.

"I'm coming with you," you stated as if it were obvious.

"Like hell you are. You're not even a detective, you aren't trained to be out in the field," he argued.

"I can handle myself thank you very much. Plus I've got you and these guys to protect me," you retorted with a grin, pointing to the basically guard dogs.

"Besides, would you rather go ask Gavin for help instead?" you added, knowing full well that won the argument.

Just as you thought, Hank just sighed and stepped inside your humble abode.

"Fine. But you do exactly as I say and never leave my sight, got it?" he ordered.

"Got it. Thanks dad," you gave him a little wink and shot him with finger guns before hurrying to your room to change.

Although he wouldn't admit it, he kinda did think of you as a daughter/son figure. Hence why he was so reluctant to let you accompany him. He was already worrying about the possibility of Connor being (and even Conan) being stuck as dogs, he didn't want to have to worry about you too. But Hank rarely got his way. Poor man.

A soft whine drew Hank's attention down to Connor, who he guessed disapproved of hom giving into you so easily.

"How about you tell her/him to stay then?" he said with a little smirk, crossing his arms.

Connor gave a short bark to which Hank just rolled his eyes.

"That's what I thought."

After about roughly five minutes you came back out from your room dressed and ready to go. You just needed to throw on a jacket and boots.

"Alright. Let's get going shall we?" you grinned as you opened your door for the three.

Quickly, you locked your door after you all before heading over to Hanks car. Hank was already in the drivers seat and just as you opened the passenger side for yourself, Conan took the opportunity to steal your spot.

"Hey!" you whined with a small pout.

Even in this dog form you could almost see him smirking. You rolled your eyes at him but leaned in to buckle in his seatbelt, because safety is important. An action which earned a weird look from Hank. However you got your revenge by pecking canine Conan's furry cheek before quickly leaning away and closing the door. He just huffed in response.

"Welp, guess were backseat buds," you say looking down to Connor.

You opened the back door, he jumped in first and you followed suit. As Hank started the car you fastened Connor's seatbelt before doing your own. When you looked up to meet his expectant big chocolatey brown eyes you gave a chuckle, bringing up your hand to pat his head. This earned the best smile a dog was able to muster. Oh you were so going to tease him about this later.

"So, where are we going?" you asked, leaning forward to look at Hank.

"Activity was reported at an abandoned house on the more secluded side of town," Hank replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Cool cool cool," you nodded, leaning back into your seat.

The drive didn't take more than a half hour at most and when Hank pulled up to the old run down looking house you immediately got bad vibes. It screamed 'someone definitely got murdered here and their ghost still hangs around'. Before getting out of the car you unbuckled yours and Connor's seatbelts. Then you had to go undo Conan's as well because Hank couldn't be bothered. After the four of you were out you headed towards the building. Once you reached the entrance Hank stopped and turned to you.

"You stick with me and stay quiet, got it?" his tone was serious.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," you waved him off .

Upon entering the house it was seemed as if it had been abandoned for years. The paint was chipping off the walls, the hardwood floors looked like they were rotting, and you could practically see the dust particles in the air. But you knew better than to take its rundown state for face value.

"Alright, you two search the ground floor and me and (Y/n) will search upstairs," Hank spoke up, keeping his voice down.

You watched the two dogs share a look before going their separate ways to search the house. You had to stifle a laugh when you saw them starting to sniff around. It wasn't like they had their cool detective scans anymore so you guessed they had to make due with what they had. It was still adorable though.

Just like Hank said, you followed him up the stairs cautiously. The gravity of the situation finally hitting you that this might have been dangerous. Who knows what kind of weirdo was squaring here. If they were able to fuck with the two most advanced androids around who knows what else they were capable of?

As you followed Hank down a corridor with a couple doors on each side you suddenly stopped when you saw a faint blue glow coming from one of the rooms. Hank didn't seem to notice you stoping and kept on ahead. You opened you mouth to call for him but shut it, deciding it best to just investigate yourself. Sure you weren't a detective per say, and sure you had no training in combat or self defense, but you knew where to land a mean kick and that was good enough for you. So you broke one of Hank's only rules to go investigate on your own.

Slowly walking into the room you felt your heartrate start to pick up. Okay maybe this wasn't the best idea, but you were here now and apparently there was no turning back for you. When you entered the room fully your eyes were immediately draw to a set of monitors on the right wall. You also noticed a slew of wires, and when you followed them with your eyes you lifted your gaze to see none other than the bodies of your best friends/kinda crushes. You grinned at the discovery and felt pride well up inside you. This would show Hank you could totally be a detective if you wanted to.

You opened your mouth to call out to Hank and co when suddenly a hand harshly clamped over your mouth and a cool metal object was pressed into your temple.

"Don't you make a fucking sound," a low voice hissed in your ear.

Well, shit.

Your heart was beating so fast you weren't sure if it was just going to stop right then and there. Slowly you brought your hands up in surrender, not really sure what the hell else you could do. So much for being able to take care of yourself. You could feel tears stinging your eyes as a million thoughts flooded your mind. This was it. This was how you were going to die.

However your existential thoughts were cut short by the sound of Hanks voice coming from the entrance of the room.

"Detroit police, put the gun down asahole," he spoke firmly, his own gun trained on the assailant who had turned you around to face Hank and was now using you as a meat shield.

The man who was holding you hostage pressed the barrel of the gun further into your temple and you couldn't help but let out a whimper.

Hearing the commotion upstairs, Connor and Conan met up with each other in the livingroom. They exchanged a look before racing up the stairs, making their way to Hank's side in less than a minute. As soon as their eyes landed on the sight of the man that put them in the body of a dog, holding a gun to your head, they immediately started growling.

Now that there were three threats, the assailant didn't know who to pint the gun at. He kept shifting it from Hank, to Connor, to Conan, and back onto you.

"S-Stay back!" the man demanded.

You could tell he was scared by the way his voice shook, and the sound of the gun rattling as his hand trembled. However you made no move to get out of his grip because you knew that would lead to you getting shot.

"Put the gun down and let the girl/boy go and maybe you'll live," Hank said, not backing down.

The two dog detectives on either side of him snarled and growled, their stances ready to attack at any moment. It was weird how they managed to go from adorable to terrifying in no time flat. But then again the same could be said in their regular human bodies.

The gun that moved away from your head and pointed in the same pattern as before frantically. However before he had the chance to point it back to you, Conan suddenly took the opportunity to lunge at the attacker. The gun went off and Connor didn't give him the chance to fire again, sinking his teeth into the man's arm making him drop the gun, and you. When you looked over to Conan you immediately saw the blue blood dripping from his shoulder.

You ignored the pained screams of the man, Connor's angry growls as he kept him down, and Hank reading out the bastards rights as he cuffed him. Your attention was solely on your injured android friend who was trapped in the body of an equally android dog. The combination made your heart break twice as much.

"Conan! Hold on okay, I'm going to get you out of there okay?" you spoke, your voice showing obvious panic.

While you had you were on your mission of getting Conan back to his body before it was too late, Hank had taken the assailant who had passed out downstairs to his car. But Connor didn't leave the room. He hated how helpless he felt as all he could really do was watch you struggle.

As carefully as you could you picked up Conan and carried him over to lay him down in front of his regular body. As you laid him down he let out a pained whine and you had to stop yourself from sobbing right then and there. Moving over to the monitor you realized you had no clue what you were looking at. Time was running as you searched through files upon files and you felt like you were about to have a breakdown. If you failed to save Conan after he just tried to save you, you'd never forgive yourself.

When your eyes spotted a file called 'Memory Upload' you clicked it immediately, and when you did a message popped up that read 'Please Connect Device'. You assumed that meant an android, or at least you hoped that's what it meant. So naturally you dropped to your knees to find what wire to plug into the android dog. But once you saw the mess of wires your hope started to dwindle.

"You've got to be shitting me," you muttered to yourself as you started sifting though the wires.

Suddenly you noticed Connor come up to your side and nudged a yellow wire in your direction. You grabbed it immediately, assuming it was the right one, and crawled over to Conan who seemed to be just barely holding on. You gave him a quick reassuring pet through his fur, whilst also trying to simultaneously trying to find a way to plug in the damned wire. It felt like forever before you finally plugged the damned thing in, when reality it was only a couple seconds, and you practically flew up to monitor.

You barely read the words 'CN300 Canine Model Connected' before smashing the 'Transfer Memory' button. Once you saw the 1% you moved back to Conan's side to whisper reassuring words, trusting the upload process wod work quickly.

"Please, please don't die on me," you pleaded, resting your forehead on his side.

When you looked up to his doggy eyes next, they were lifeless. Your eyes widened and you felt like your whole world was coming down on you.

"Conan? No....nonononono," your voice cracked as you spoke and the tears that had threaten to spill the entire time finally spilled.

However what failed to notice in your grief struck state was the big 'Memory Transfer Complete' on one of the monitors. It was only when you heard someone clear their throat you looked to see Conan, staring down at you with his steel grey eyes, that were very much alive.

"Conan?" you said in disbelief, your glossy eyes widening.

"Hello (Y/n)," he replied simply, as if nothing had happened.

You immediately hopped up to your feet, your arms flying up to wrap around his torso in a tight hug. If he was anyone else he would have probably been tackled to the ground by the sheer force. He didn't reciprocate the hug immediately, but eventually he gave in and gave your head a little pat.

"I thought you died you asshole," your words came out muffled as your face was currently buried in his chest, but he heard you clear as day.

"Yes well, it was the only way to ensure you'd never make me go into that body ever again," he said as a smirk tugged at his lips.

"Wait are you serious!? You risked your life just to destroy the dog android?" you pulled away from him and looked up at him in utter disbelief.

"Correct," he said, his smirk widening at your reaction.

"Oh haha very funny," you huffed, punching him in the chest weakly.

"I don't understand why you think I'm joking," he tilted his head slightly, lifting an eyebrow as he feigned confusion.

"Yeah, suuuuuure. It totally wasn't to save my life or anything," you said rolling your eyes, not buying his bs for one second.

"Believe whatever you would like (Y/n)," he shot back.

You were about to reply back when a whine from your right cut you off. Looking down you saw Connor sitting next to you, who must have been waiting patiently for you and Conan to finish your little reunion.

"Oh shit, sorry Connor. Let's get you back to your body now that your asshole brother is fine," you gave him a little apology pet as you spoke.

Conan rolled his eyes at your little insult but didn't take any offense by it. He knew you loved him, and he loved you. Though he'd obviously would rather die than admit it. The stubborn bastard.

Thankfully when you had to redo the steps to transfer Connor's memory back to his body, you could do it calmly not that there wasn't so much pressure. Just as the transfer was almost 100% complete Hank returned to the scene. When he saw that Conan had been restored to his body, and now Connor as well, he looked over to you with a proud smile.

"Glad to see you didn't manage to fuck anything up," he said just as Connor opened his eyes.

"Gee thanks for the vote of confidence," you said sarcastically.

"You did good kid," he said sincerely.

"Thanks dad," you looked over to him with a smile.

"Hello Lieutenant, and (Y/n)," Connor greeted you both.

You looked over to him and offered him a wide grin before walking up to him, engulfing him in a hug. Unlike your hug with Conan, you wrapped your arms around Connor's neck since you could actually reach. Also unlike Conan, he almost immediately wrapped his arms around your waist. This boy always loved your hugs.

"Good to have you back Concon," you said as you pulled away.

"But I didn't go anywhere. I was just a dog," he said in confusion with one of his classic head tilts.

"Yeah I know Con," you chuckled.

God how you missed his adorable cluelessness.

"By the way, you were a very good boy," you added with a sly smirk.

"O-Oh um, thank you," he said with a timid smile, a light tint of blue dusting his cheeks.

You heard Conan scoff from your left and you glanced over to him, your smirk widening.

"Oh Conan, you were a very good boy too. No need to get jealous," you teased.

He rolled his eyes and turned his back to leave the room, however you noticed how his cheeks were turning a lovely shade of baby blue as well.

"Alright you weirdos let's get the fuck outta here," Hank said as he followed Conan out.

You were about to follow the two but stopped when you didn't hear Connor behind you. Looking back at him you saw he was picking up his dog equivalent. When he met your eyes he smiled sheepishly.

"I was wondering if I could keep this, for the future. If you'd ever like a dog. Me specifically," he tried to explain himself.

"Yes. That would be amazing Connor," you grinned.

At least one of them would be willing to explore the world through the eyes of a dog once again. However either way you were never going to let either of the two androids live this down. Ever.

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A/N: As alwayssss I did not mean for this to be this long wooooopss. I kinda have no clue where tf this went and I'm so sorry if its terrible lmaooo. Anyways I hope y'all enjoyed anyways 💙

#dbh #dbh x reader #dbh rk900 #dbh connor #dbh nines #dbh rk800 #detroit #detroid become human #rk900 nines #connor x reader x nines #nines x reader #connor rk800 x reader #connor rk800 #connor x reader

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