#that says ''i can't seem to stay me'' which was sorta the origin of why i picked this one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ganymedesclock · 1 year

Note

Hi, I've got a Hollow Knight question for you. How much do you think PK actively designed his small body, vs just wanting certain criteria and the rest just sorta happening? Also, how much do you think the anatomy resembles normal bug anatomy vs Wyrm anatomy vs entirely unique anatomy?

I think PK had full control over what he would become within the limits of physiology (so, he couldn't, say, have had his head fully detached from his body) but he didn't understand the ramifications very well until later.

PK, as far as we can tell, is an extremely detail-obsessive individual. He's not caught by surprise by the features of his creations, but he is often dangerously wrong about what this implies about their more ephemeral traits. Considering he is his own work, I think this applies to him.

So, he chose to become smaller- and probably lowballed it intentionally because he did not want to tower over others. (I'm a slightly boring person who doesn't think he minds being short, though his ego wouldn't be untouchable in that subject, the fact that he's "actually" godzilla-sized in origin and chose to leave that life voluntarily behind suggests that he doesn't exactly have hangups about needing to be taller)

He chose to redefine his bladed mouthparts as a sharpened crown, and to give himself a Face, that bugs would like to look at and find familiar. He chose to- at least in my interpretations of what lies under his cloak- give himself multiple flexible, dexterous graspers.

As far as anatomy goes, I'm going to share this older (warning for bug mandibles) art I did of a possible gijinka design, because that gets at about what I feel like his features would read as to mundane bug and beast.

Basically, he has some unusual features but a lot of those things are flattering or pretty from a certain angle; he has a very smooth, graceful gait (almost floating, without distinct strides) he has a very bright, shiny exoskeleton (literally shining) without blemishes or asymmetry, he has long horns- which are apparently a sought-after trait in Hallownest's society given the journal description of the Husk Hornhead. This is why his gijinka form as I drew it is, superficially at least, a handsome swishy fantasy elf-wizard-looking type. He is literally a piece of art sculpted by his own hands and his eye for aesthetics is not only obvious but pretty clearly lines up with what the average layperson considers beautiful- look at how nice the White Palace looks!

Granted, though, I think that he also exists deeply in the uncanny valley. We're not used to seeing people who are beautiful the way a ceramic doll might be, and these kinds of beauty removed from humanity are a common subject in horror for a reason.

And because I can't ever really separate my read on PK from a sense of compassion that this was a very miserable creature, this is where my personal read leans- he can stay on the "pretty, desirable" side of the uncanny, but only with effort and restricting his behaviors a lot. Hence me doing a gijinka take of him with a four-point mouth; imagine negotiating those hinges to make a sufficiently Nice, Human, Politically Polite smile. It'd be so difficult to manage, especially while speaking, that it'd be far more likely for him to do much what he's shown to do in canon- become a recluse that avoids people so the times you have to make a public appearance are a minimum and a few people are initiated to your circle where they get to see and deal with you all the time.

Part of this would even be rather simple and straightforwards- Hallownest is a setting where predator and prey dynamics coexist fully with sapience. There is a nonzero concern any stranger might eat you, and this probably factors into how warlike or predatory features are considered- size, claws and fangs. PK's mouthless plate of a face and seemingly smooth body as projected by his robes would seem doll-like in another sense- utterly bereft of predatory warning flags. His head-body proportions and sleek, unblemished appearance would invoke a child and we know the creatures of Hallownest care for their children by default- even the more brutal societies like Deepnest or the Mantis Lords.

But this utter lack of predation is an illusion. In reality, PK is not only a living organism actively feeding on worship and devotion, but the organism in question is a colossal entity whose true "face" is nothing but mouth and fangs, and a thickly armored body covered with spikes. Blades, and spikes, and methodical surgical torture are major motifs repeated throughout the palace and in other environments of PK's power. By implication, every part of him is a blade and him being easy on the eyes is the way that a parade sword can glitter so invitingly that any kid might want to pick it up, but if that parade sword is made with good steel and its twinkling gemstones real diamonds, it could still slice you to ribbons and probably won't seem so inviting afterwards.

A friend of mine @betterbemeta pointed out that my writings of him in Refuge For Resolve give him more than a passing resemblance to the figure of the King In Yellow, and I've always liked that one.

#Hollow Knight #The Pale King #readmore #mm been a while since I shrimp meta'd

83 notes · View notes

corrupt-fvcker · 4 years

Text

Annoying (Boba Fett x fem!Reader)

Annoying ( Boba Fett x fem!Reader )

Warnings: fluff, hurt with sorta comfort, mentions of blood, one (1) mention of an erection, naughty words

Word Count: 3.1K

Author’s Note: boba may be a grumpy boyfriend, but he’s pretty decent. reminder that requests are open and if you want to be added to my tag list the link is in my bio :)

Boba’s annoying.

Like, really annoying.

He’s always telling you what to do and when to do it, like he’s the boss of you or something.

Well, technically he did hire you as an onboard mechanic for the Slave I.

But that’s hardly the point.

Because after you reluctantly complete whatever (typically ridiculous) request he’s ordered you to do, he doesn’t show you ever a sliver of gratitude.

He’s constantly teasing you

Probably smirking smugly beneath his bucket whenever you avoid his gaze after a particularly cheeky comment.

You swear that he's going to be the death of you if he doesn't shut the fuck up.

And he's an idiot, you're confident in this even though he always seems to be two steps ahead of you.

"If I'm an idiot, then what does that make you?"

The bitch that's about to roundhouse your ass.

"...shut up."

Boba's also big and green

Like a giant booger you decided.

Because calling him a Hutt would've been a direct insult to Jabba and all who hailed from Nal Hutta.

He's also stubborn.

Which you suppose is a good thing when it comes to his line of work.

But after the quarry's been captured and it's just you and him, you're usually about two minutes away from stranding him on the nearest inhabitable planet.

Boba — the annoying, stubborn, big, green idiot that somehow managed to get his grimy gloved fingers wrapped around your heart with a durasteel strength grip.

And despite his imperfections, you know he cares. He cares a whole lot, actually.

Which is why you're approaching the hour mark of being stranded in the middle of a giant forest.

The stars of the Corellia system moved across the night sky as you wait for your annoying, stubborn, big, green idiot of a boyfriend to find you.

It had started off as a joke.

Not a particularly good joke, but your goal wasn't to make him laugh.

Your goal was to get under his skin.

So you, being the natural-born genius that you are, decide to laugh when Boba oh-so-casually brings up that he is the best bounty hunter in the field.

And you should've dropped it when his helmet ticked to the side and he asked you what was so kriffing funny.

But you — the apparent brains of the operation — don't catch the hint and keep going.

"I mean, I think I could outrun you," you admit nonchalantly, not bothering to look up at him as you absentmindedly pick at a loose thread of your tunic. "Not to mention outsmart you."

You smirk because if Boba is anything but your annoying, stubborn, big, green, idiot boyfriend... he's egotistical.

Boba scoffs, a mixture of amusement and offense lacing his tone. "Yeah? That's what you think?"

You offer him a half-hearted nod, feigning indifference to the whole idea.

He doesn't say anything else after that, nor do either of you bring it up again.

You suspect that maybe he figured that you were just trying to get under his skin, but you didn't think that you could've bruised his ego so easily and truly gotten away with it.

But then all hell breaks loose and the joke that you had started morphed into a much more genuine issue.

An official bounty had been placed on your head, and the reward was quite charitable.

So now, you were hiding out in the middle of some random forest on Corellia as Boba hunts you down to put your survival skills to test.

Your goal is simple, make it back to the Slave I before Boba hunts you down and catches you.

And you had originally thought that it had been a good idea. If Boba, the best bounty hunter there is, can't catch you then hypothetically you shouldn't have to worry about other bounty hunters coming after you.

But you quickly came to regret your decision because now you're lost out in the middle of the forest, hugging some random tree.

You tried not to wander too far from the ship, knowing that you’d have to eventually find your way back.

But you also couldn’t stay too close, it’d be much easier for Boba to find you if you were in the first tree he sees.

You had no definitive way of knowing how much time had passed.

Even though Boba had told you when you landed, you had already forgotten how long a Corellian day was.

Logically, you knew that you couldn't have been waiting for more than an hour.

Though when your natural restlessness mixed with how uncomfortable your hiding spot was, you were convinced that you had been stuck in place for at least several hours.

You had settled yourself up in the branches of a towering tree. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, the bark digging into the soft flesh of your back, but it was endurable.

If you could hide, you could live.

It’s dark, You could barely see the forest floor from your hiding spot.

You weren't far from the ground, maybe a good twenty feet up.

Though you doubted that you’d be able to see Boba if he strolled past your tree.

He had the advantage, of course. Night vision ‘n all his fancy gadgets.

To make matters worse, it’s freezing.

You were itching to get the hell out of the forest and cuddle up on your cot.

But there was a tiny problem.

Boba was coming from the direction of the Slave I.

Which meant that with your luck, there was a very good chance that you’d run directly into him as you’re trying to get back to the ship.

You needed to get Boba off your trail first, get him lost in the jungle.

By the second hour of hiding in the ominous forest, you hear rustling leaves in the distance.

He’s close.

Thankfully, he’s not moving directly towards you.

But you can hear him drawing closer and closer, and you’re about to make a run for it and hope for the best.

And even though you know he’s not going to to hurt you, you’re still terrified.

You hear a twig snap just a few yards from your tree, you flinch.

And then he went silent.

And for a split second, your mind lets you think that he missed you.

But then, just a short distance away, you see it.

The subtle glow of a tracking fob.

He was waiting for something -- standing there, eyes searching for your figure in the darkness.

And then, he turns away, hesitating. Considering his options.

He moves a few paces east, thankfully away from your route back to the ship.

You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps, and begin to move. Quietly, making sure your movements did not betray you.

But that was your first mistake.

Not noticing that it was a trap.

You didn’t realize it until it was too late.

He’s racing after you now, heavy footsteps thudding against the forest floor.

And for someone weighed down by so much armor, he’s fast.

You’re sprinting.

Entire body burning as you make your way through the thick trees.

The world’s a blur as you run, your feet barely touching the ground as you speed through the forest.

He’s on your trail, hot and quick.

You just prayed that you had a good enough lead, maybe you could outrun him.

And just as the Slave I is in view you realize something.

You realize that you’re wrong.

Two strong arms plated with thick duraplast hook around your waist and yank you off your feet.

Air is ripped from your lungs as soon as the slope of your back slams against the armor covering the firm muscles of his chest.

And desperately, you suck sharply for the oxygen that was just knocked from your body but as soon as you manage to breath in, you are robbed once again as the two of you topple to the ground.

You hit the ground hard.

Your head snapping back as soon as your bodies hit the dirt and the only thing keeping your skull from splitting open against the forest floor is the way Boba tugs you against his chest.

“Fuck!” You grit through your teeth, not sure if it’s the pain of the fall or the disappointment of losing that’s bruised you more.

You don’t stop struggling, continuing to fight him as he wrestles you to the ground.

You’re panting, kicking, grunting, punching, swearing—

Boba... hasn’t broken a sweat.

He’s leaning over your and has got one of your arms craned behind your back, your face pushing into the dirt as you actively chose to ignore what seems to be a hard-on pressed into your lower back. Instead of dealing with his problem, you use what little strength you have left to swing your limbs at him.

THWACK!

You’re free hand collides with the dome of his helmet, and it nearly throws him off his game. You smirk— then you seethe in pain.

The skin of your knuckles cracks open upon impact of the duraplast, successfully hurting you more than it managed to inconvenience Boba.

“You kriffing—”

Your words catch in your throat as he suddenly flips you over, forcing you to face his stupid helmet.

He plops down on you, effectively pushing all the air from your lungs for the third time of the night.

He’s sitting on your stomach, gloved hands grasping your wrists as his legs pin down your own.

“Gonna need to put up more than a fight than that,” Boba growls through his modulator, easily restraining your struggling limbs.

"Fuck you.”

You might actually hate him.

No, you don’t.

“C’mon,” he croons mockingly, leaning forward just a bit so that his helmet hovers over your face. “Thought you said you could outrun me. Outsmart me? You got to have more fire in you than that, baby.”

Then you do something incredibly stupid.

Because — who are you kidding? — you’re not the brains of the operation.

You’re the stubborn one between the two of you (which is saying something), and Boba always knows which buttons to push.

You jerk upward, momentarily slipping your wrists away from his grip that loosened from surprise.

Your head slams into the front of his helmet, your forehead splitting open on collision.

But your pride outweighs your pain as you watch your boyfriend’s head snap back slightly with a strained grunt, effectively freeing your arms from his grasp.

With all the force you can muster, you shove him off of you before he can quickly recover and then you’re running.

Sprinting to the ship even faster than before, despite the heavy blood flow that is now running its course down the side of your face.

As soon as the soles of your boots make contact with the durasteel ramp, you collapse.

Toppling down to your knees in the safe zone because you’re so kriffing tired yet so relieved that you won.

The sound of Boba’s footsteps are right by your head as you carelessly sprawl out on the ramp.

“Fuck,” Boba snarls, suddenly invading your little safe zone.

You smirk because you know he’s pissed about losing to you.

“What the hell did you do to yourself?” Boba snaps, his gloved hands seizing each side of your face to make you look at his visor.

You’re bleeding.

Like a lot.

And you almost don’t have enough energy in you to brag.

“I won, old man,” you sigh dreamily, batting eyelashes as you blink away the dots spotting your vision.

Boba doesn’t even comment on the fact that you’re only a few years younger than him.

“Maker help me, you better not have a concussion,” Boba grumbles with an unamused grimace that’s concealed by his bucket, hauling you up from the ramp despite your protests and carrying you into the hull.

He’s completely silent as he cleans your trophy -- a small cut just below your brow that bled way too fucking much for its size. He sprays some bacta on it and covers it with a bandage, only speaking once all the supplies is put away.

“You need to take this,” Boba argues, his blood-stained gloves now discarded as he holds a few painkillers in his palm.

You shake your head. “It’s not serious. You’re gonna need those sooner or later.”

“You have a head laceration, it’s not gonna be long before you get a migraine,” Boba retorts, forcing your clenched fist open so that he can put the pills in your palm.

“No.”

Fuck, you’re stubborn.

His heavy sigh echos through his vocoder. “I don’t want to hear about how bad your head hurts in an hour.”

“You won’t,” you promise.

Though what’s he gonna do about it if you do? Lose another bet?

It doesn’t even take an hour for your head to start pounding in retaliation of your stupidity. Though you bite your tongue as you sit in the co-pilot’s seat, not wanting to get the “I Told You So” speech yet again.

You’ve been in hyperspace for about twenty minute, sitting with your legs criss-cross in the seat, your eyes closed and your head tilted back.

You hope you just fall asleep unintentionally so that you don’t have to get up again.

Every time you stand you think that your skull is going to burst from the incessant thrumming of your brain.

Thankfully it’s mainly dark in the cockpit, the only light coming from the buttons and stars.

“You don’t look so good,” Boba eventually mutters, a hint of something laced in his tongue.

“Gee, thanks,” you reply groggily, pinching the bridge of your nose as your brows furrow.

Just let me fucking sleep in peace.

“How’s your head?” You were too tired to figure out if it’s concern or smugness in his voice.

Probably both.

Definitely both.

“Do you have to talk so loud?” You complain lamely, opening your eyes to shoot a miserable glare in your boyfriend’s direction.

He snorts, shaking his head in spite of you before motioning you over with two fingers. His voice is low when he speaks.

“C’mere.”

You stare at him for a moment but the light is reflecting painfully off the dome of his helmet and you think that your brain is fucking bleeding.

“Don’t want to,” you reply, trying to play it off as disinterest rather than the inability to walk the three paces to sit in his lap.

When he doesn’t immediately react, you avert your gaze to stars and thank the Maker that you can finally close your eyes and have some peace —

A scoff crackles through his modulator, and you don’t open your eyes to glance in his direction as he stands from the pilot’s seat and moves.

Space is silent and his heavy footsteps ring throughout the cockpit and send vibrations through every bone in your body.

He inserts himself between your slightly parted legs and hovers there for a moment, you can feel his gaze searing into your flesh despite your lack of vision.

His scent is overwhelming — something masculine and spicy, fresh and clean.

“What’s the matter, sweet girl?” He questions softly, leaning forward ever so slightly to cage you in between the co-pilot’s seat and his armor.

His bare hand cradles your cheek before trailing down to wrap around the nape of your neck.

Your eyelashes flutter open and you meet the ominous visor.

“Nothing.”

It’s a plain lie that’s so clear and plastic that it loses all the sharpness and edge that a true lie holds.

He shakes his head, eyes still trained on you. “Really? Nothing’s bothering you?”

This time you shake your head. “Nothing,” you repeat with more firmness.

Stubborn.

He nods thoughtfully, a hum rumbling through his helmet before straightening out, pulling away from you a bit.

You sigh out a small breath of relief, finally having the space to breath air that wasn’t him.

You let your eyelids slump shut again, though you should’ve know better than to think your stubborn boyfriend would leave you alone.

“Hey!”

He’s scooping you up in his arms, pressing you against his chest and moving before you can wiggle out of his grasp.

He’s still carrying you when he descends the ladder, you’re too disoriented to figure out how but he does nonetheless.

He flops you down on the bed, tugging your dirty shirt over your head.

Oh. Oh.

You mentally shrug because even with the pounding of your skull you wouldn’t mind a quick fuck before bed—

But then Boba presses his palm against your forehead and pushes you against the pillow — and you also then realize that he had only removed your dirty shirt so that you wouldn’t complain about the *germs* getting on your pillowcase (which causes acne, you dutifully remind him - not that his buckethead cares).

Though you give him credit where it’s due.

He’s being thoughtful.

He disappears without a word, returning only a few moments later.

He outstretches his hand to reveal three painkillers.

Thoughtful bastard.

You’re still lying flat on the mattress and your eyebrows furrow. “I said that I’m not—”

He tugs his helmet off his head with a short breath, tossing it haphazardly at the foot of the bed.

Sometimes you forget how beautiful he is beneath his green bucket.

Tanned olive skin, dark wavy hair that’s borderline shaggy, calculating eyes that glisten with mirth, and rosy lips that are tilted into a boyish smirk.

“They’re not for you, kid,” he grumbles teasingly before throwing the three pills to the back of his mouth before taking a single gulp of the glass of water that’s still beside your bed from the night before. “Now move over.”

It’s a miracle that you actually listen, scooting to the other side of the bed so that he can collapse on the mattress.

His arms drag you into his chest as soon as he settles, tucking the top of your head beneath his chin.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he utters, voice tainted from exhaustion but you can hear the adoration.

You smile softly, burying your face in his neck so that you can press a kiss to his collar.

“And you’re annoying.”

Good thing I love you.

#boba fett #bob morley #boba fett x reader #boba fett headcanons #star wars #self insert #reader insert #corrupt-fvcker #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett fanfic #we love our green booger

333 notes · View notes

dolldirector · 3 years

Text

Fallen Realm Playlist Masterpost

Big infodump under the read more, if you like my OCs and/or agree with my flawless music taste this should be interdasting

1. MUSE - Thought Contagion

Vampire stuff, punk vibes, a nod to thriller, all of the above fit the mood of a FR show + the song is genuinely very good and I could see it being used on stage easily.

2. PAIN - Call Me

Absolute banger. But that's besides the point. I see this as being the bassist Jez/Jamie's song (with a side of Deuce as the second vocalist). Jez is a fairly quiet lad who generally keeps to himself but I always imagined that he’d be secretly very flirty and cheeky, but would mostly only really express it via music. I actually wrote a lil short story where most of FR's band (minus Rex and Isabella) find themselves in some dive bar after a show, and end up performing in the place of the no-show band that was meant to be there that night. That band ends up being the very same one that kicked Jez out, so it’s a bit of a revenge story for him. This short is on my discord by the by.

3. Emigrate - Eat You Alive

Oh boy, this is a strong one. Basically, just watch this video but pretend that Axl is Richard (the frontman). That’s it. That’s the explanation.

Being serious though, RZK is and always has been a huge influence for Axl's visual design, mannerisms and on-stage behaviours. On top of that, this is 100% the type of music he'd listen to, and the lyrics may as well just be plucked right outta his brain. Are the words meant to be aimed at Valeriya in a threatening way? Or is it a cheeky flirt with Trinity? Both? Neither? We’ll never know.

Also, completely unrelated I’m sure, here’s a wip you may or may not be able to force me to finish on stream via channel points soon...

4. Axel One - Out of the Dark

Can't exactly say much about this one cause it's spoilers, but I will say it's less about the song itself and more about the video, and that it does concern the one FR character who is already dead when the story begins.

5. Lord of the Lost - Raining Stars

Just seems to me like a real good song to perform to. I can imagine seeing acrobatic stunts in slow-mo to this track. That’s it for this one, just “I just think they’re neat”. Gorgeous song and video by an amazing band anyway though.

6. Oomph! - Supernova

Kinda the same deal as the Emigrate song, you can just insert Axl into this one in Dero’s place, along with Jez, Vlad, and Thatch. Once again the style and lyrics fit him perfectly, and this one earns bonus points since Dero is actually Axl's canon voiceclaim - specifically in this era of Oomph!’s music too.

7. Die Kreatur - Kälter als der Tod

At the risk of this thread becoming Oops All Axl TM - AH YES. This one is perfect for the point where Axl finally gets the fuck over himself, and stops being horrible to Vlad because of guitar jealousy, and they become bros.

Realistically, I doubt that Vlad - the clueless human vampire fanatic - will ever realise that Axl is a real actual vampire, but he'd be so glad that they seem to have this ~shared interest~ in them, and he'd by hyped as heck to do a performance like this with his guitar buddy. By the way, Vlad wonders to himself, isn’t it odd that he’s never seen Axl putting his fake fangs in?? Weird

As for the girl on the altar, there are a couple ideas I’ve toyed with. Random audience member for fun. Trinity but Axl gets mad jealous even though he thought and said he wouldn't. (No sharing!! Not even for jokes.) Valeriya but the poor thing is scared to the point of tears because this is just a little too close to a real experience for her and Vlad just can't figure out why. Axl insists she’s just being dramatic. Rex has to rescue her because she’s too shy to put her foot down.

Or perhaps Isabella would wanna join in, but she can't take it seriously and keeps laughing which just causes a chain reaction every time with even Axl cracking a smile. There are like a million cut takes now. Send help.

All in all a fun crossover to think about.

8. Adelitas Way - Still Hungry

This one is just Diesel’s anthem. This is the story of a young punk who can’t stop, won’t stop, never gives up and needs more. Right kinda music for him too.

9. MONO INC. - Shining Light

100% a full-cast song. I feel like the lyrics apply to a number of different things about various members of the circus' backstories, and their found family vibe together - if you think about them in super vague terms, at least. I liked to consider the vocals a duet between Rex and Isabella, being the two singers, but there are a couple lines that are kinda too adult for Bella and would make the duet sorta odd so ehhh 90% of it can be that, let’s say. (This is baring in mind that Isabella is an orphaned minor and Rex is like a father figure for her - as he kinda is for many of the members of the circus)

I also did a doodle of this. This one will also be on the force-me-to-work-on-this-WIP-live pile.

9.5. Lacrimosa - Lichtgestalt a.k.a the original version of Shining Light

Same song, just German and carrying a much darker, creepier tone. It fits in new, fun ways.

10. Oomph! - Viel zu Tief

OOPS ALL AXL TM

Lyrics are very important for this one. Once again, music is the right style, Dero is still his voiceclaim, and Axl actually speaks German in canon (and NO I didn’t do that just so Oomph! songs fit him better, shUT UP)

11. Pet Shop Boys - It’s a Sin

Bit out of left field for this playlist, sure, but with all the controversy and extremely shakey morals in FR's world and with its characters, this one just seems fitting. Plus I'd want em to cover it for a show. Banger.

Honorable mention goes to Ghost’s cover of this song. I don’t even listen to Ghost but my reaction upon finding out this exists was like “lmao yes, of course, why wouldn’t they”.

This song in general I associate instinctively with Vlad, purely because its 80s and campy and I feel like he’d be the type to listen to Ghost.

12. Destiny Potato - Lunatic

Very strongly feel this is a performance song featuring Isabella. This song fits the character - and in particular her tragic backstoryTM pretty well. I’d even go so far as to say the singer would be a pretty good voiceclaim for her if her voice wasn’t meant to be more robotic in canon. This is pretty close to what I imagine, though. Strong n sweet.

13. Nightwish - I Want My Tears Back

One of the first songs I imagined to go well with stage performances. This one for sure would be a duet between Rex and Isabella.

Plus at about 3:10 there's a long solo with a bit of back-and-forth between the guitar and hurdy gurdy (I think?) that I could 100% see Axl and Vlad doing on guitar and keytar respectively.

14. Lord of the Lost - Drag Me To Hell

Yeah this one is just Axl @ his ex

15. Lindemann - Steh Auf!

Bleib nicht liegen, es wär schade - Zirkus ist heut in der Stadt

So, this would be from Isabella’s perspective. Did I mention she was orphaned? Yeah. I guess this one is a little dark.

16. Otetsu & GUMI - Disordered Self-Restraint Girl

The song itself seems to be the story of a child who is trying to coax their parent/guardian into getting up and doing things, not realising that parent had passed away from a drug overdose. Drugs isn’t the way Isabella’s parents died, but the rest of the song fits that part of her backstory imo. Plus, it’s German, and Isabella is German, so yay!

Uh oh, vocaloid.

For a long time I've associated this one with Valeria, and her feelings towards the circus in the early days. After she's accidentally turned by Axl, Val gets effectively kidnapped by FR, taken in before she can even regain consciousness and completely against her will, since it would be incredibly irresponsible of them to just leave a fresh new vampire out in the world so they kinda don't have a choice. While she eventually finds her place and elects to stay after some time has passed, there was a period of time where she definitely would have felt trapped.

This is without even going into the fact that she's now stuck travelling and living with her would-be murderer, and - due to the fact that half of the circus don't even know non-humans exist, let alone what actually happened to Valeria - many of the people around her don't seem to care, or simply do not understand why she's so scared and stressed. It leaves her, at times, feeling like she could be killed tomorrow and nobody would give a shit.

Showtime, katanamochi bunbun furimawashi kubi kara ue hanetobashite mo - ashita ni nareba minna motodoori, waratte yurushite

Translation: Showtime, even if a sword wielder slices my head and makes it fly off, tomorrow everything continues as usual, smiling, forgiving

(Don't worry, in reality Rex, Diesel, and Thatch are there for her & understand the shit she's going through. I promise the folks in the circus do actually care. It's just hard for her to see it in this period of time.)

(There will almost definitely be more songs and doodles added here in the future, but for now that’s all folks!)

#fallen realm #playlist #masterpost #ocs

2 notes · View notes

satanschild01 · 4 years

Text

No All Might? That’s Alright Prt3

Izuku Midoriya Fanfiction

A/N: In all honesty this took me way too long just to finish writing this chapter, but I pushed through so I guess it’s fine. I’ve created a AO3 account recently and I’ve posted all of my previous fanfictions there so if you want to check me out, you can find me as SatansChild

Hope you all stay safe and wear a mask if you can't physically distance.Hope to update soon!

Catch you on the flip side ~ Em

Photo used in this fic was referenced from original picture from anime, I did draw this photo jtlyk

Tags:

@random-fandom-girl-24

Tags for some wonderful feedback😘: @trashys-things @pink-imagines @marvelmymarvel @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @spaced-out-imagines @marvelmymarvelmain @writingfreakk

Trigger warning: Talk about death

Word Count: 2633

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

After making sure all of the blood was no longer on his uniform, Closing his eyes, Izuku steeled himself to walk into the All Might shrine that was his room. Sure, he still wanted to be a hero, and he admired All Might’s strength, but he couldn’t stand to be surrounded by posters and figurines of a man who couldn’t offer any sort of encouragement to a child who clearly needed it. Izuku pulled some cardboard boxes out from his closet and started filling them with everything All Might. Oboro didn’t make a sound during the time he cleaned out his room, which he was grateful for. Even though he could just feel Oboro wanting to ask questions.

“So what are you going to do about all this stuff?” Oboro asked as Izuku changed his All Might sheets with regular black ones “You seem like such a big fan...it just seems like a waste just to keep it all in boxes.”

Izuku shrugged his shoulders.”I’m not much of a fan anymore.” he lied to mostly himself rather than to Oboro, “I guess I’ll just donate the stuff later.” Once his walls were finally bare, Izuku stuffed the now full boxes to the back of his closet and flopped onto his bed. The room stayed silent for a moment until Izuku broke the ice, “I don’t want to intrude on your personal life…but can you tell me about yourself?” he asked

“Well for the fact that I witnessed and helped you with some pretty deep stuff, it sorta would be rude if I didn’t tell you something about my previous life,” Oboro said cheekily

“H-how long have you been...you know…” Izuku paused not really wanting to complete the question.

“...dead?” Izuku nodded “I was in my second year of high school when I died and I would be 29 by now so...close to 12 years I think?” Izuku sat there on his bed frozen

‘12 years is a long time to be a ghost or spirit to not have passed on, that is if people actually pass onto another place once they die’ Izuku thought to himself

“I was patrolling around Tasomiya Ward with one of my best friends when there was a villain attack...I was working on saving some kids when debris fell on top of me...when I woke up I was like how I am now, I couldn’t find my body anywhere so I just...travelled around…” Oboro seemed to quiet down at mentioning that he never found his body to move onto another life, so Izuku thought of ways to change the current mood of the room.

“So you were a hero in training or something?” he asked, face full of wonder, Oboro hummed in affirmation “What school did you go to?”

“I went to U.A”

“Wait really?!” Izuku exclaimed excitedly, “that's so cool!”

They continued talking and asking questions back and forth, before falling into a comfortable silence. A few minutes past before Izuku took a deep breath

“I...I’m sorry,” Izuku said quietly, slowly curling into himself

"Why would you be sorry kid?" Oboro’s voice was full of confusion. But Izuku only curled in on himself further.

"If it wasn't for me you wouldn't be stuck here." As if anyone wanted to be bound to some stupid Deku...like him. And here he thought it was a whole coincidence that Oboro was with him. But instead, he just took whatever type of freedom he had to begin with.

"Hey, no! Stop that. Izuku that's not true! I'm here because I want to be!" The warmth spread all over him and he couldn't help but lean into it. “I said I'd make a hero out of you and I still plan on it."

Izuku looked up only to see the ceiling of his room, lifting his arm up to the sky and let it just float there (like what every kid does while laying on there bed contemplating on what to do next). "I wish I could see you again."

Oboro hummed. Seeming to think something through. "I don’t think there’s much out there since I was only a second-year when I died, but there could be some photos of me with friends or an article"

Izuku seemed to take that as a challenge as he went to his computer. "What did you choose to be your hero name?"

"Loud Cloud."

After scouring the web for a couple of minutes nothing showed up except for an old article from the Nikkei Shimbun newspaper, reporting the death of hero-in-training Loud Cloud. Izuku quickly exited that site choosing to search for something different. “What’s your full name Oboro?”

“Oh that’s right I didn’t tell you my full name, it is Oboro Shirakumo” Oboro replied

“Oboroshirikumo...oboroshirikumooo….here!” Izuku exclaimed pointing at the monitor’s screen. “This photo was tagged saying ‘Curry eating competition at U.A’s School Festival. Winner Hizashi Yamada from class 2-A!’ it also says the names of the people in the photo are; Shota Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada, and Oboro Shirakumo.”

“Oh, I remember that!” Oboro cried out laughing “The curry was soo spicy I was freaking out because I couldn’t find anything to soothe my burning throat!”

“So that’s you in the back then?” Izuku asked pointing towards a teenager who seems to be freaking out.

Oboro chuckles “Yep, the other two were my best friends!”

“Yamada looks sorta familiar what’s his hero name?” Izukku asked, curious on why the 16-year-old looked so familiar to him

“Unless he changed it before becoming a pro, which he probably would not, his hero name is Present Mic.”

Izuku sputtered “W-wait you were close friends with THE Present Mic?!” Oboro hummed in agreement while Izuku had his miny freak out “

“Oh my god that is socool!Ilistentohisradioshoweveryday,andhe’ssuchanamazinghero,likeevenifheisdeafduetohisquirkhedoesn’tletitbotherhiman-” He stopped hearing the sound of laughter coming around his room and his lamp flickering

"Aw jeez, that’s amazing Hizashi got to get that radio show he wanted." There was a quick blast of warmth flooding around his back and chest resembling a hug. "Well anyway, you should probably head to bed. You have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow and a long way to go before you can have a chance at being accepted into UA!"

"What are you going to do while I sleep?" Izuku asked, eyes slowly drooping.

"I'm going to see how far I can go without being next to you, and have a look around and exploring a bit. No need to worry. I'll make sure to be careful and be here in the morning." He seemed to pick up on his anxieties. Izuku felt warmth as Oboro slowly pet his hair back. "Goodnight, Izuku."

The next morning Izuku woke up to warmth pulsing on his right cheek. "Hey kid it’s time to get up! You have training to do! Up and at ‘em!" Oboro’s voice was overly joyful and Izuku felt very unwilling to get out of bed.

"Mm...just a bit longeeeer." He groaned turning himself over facing away from where he guesses Oboro is standing (floating?).

"Fair warning Izuku my jokes are terrible, everyone at school would always runaway once I started and I haven’t been able to talk to actual people in so long! If spaghetti were to have it’s own action movie, what would it be called?.... Mission im-pasta-ble. What did the pot eat on it’s birthday?....pancakes. What do you call a camel in a drought?....A dry hu- "

Finally, Izuku jerked up, covering his ears. “Okay. Okay, I’m up! No need to finish that.” His face started to burn a light pink across his face, (knowing what the end of the joke was) as he started to kick the blankets off only to turn towards the window and see barely any light outside. "Wha- Oboro!! The sun isn’t even out yet!"

He turned glaring into thin air hoping to make contact with him.

"Yes, it is, Izu. It's just reeeally early in the morning. There is plenty of time for you to get ready and eat before we go out for a morning run!" He was being weirdly energetic about the whole ordeal, but Izuku knew he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Heading to the bathroom, Izuku ran a brush through his wild curly hair and brushed his teeth. Going back to his room, Obroro pipped up. "It's a bit cool outside so I suggest you wear some long sleeves."

The entire way to his closet Izuku muttered incoherent things. In the end, he opted to wear a plain black shorts and a long-sleeved shirt with written kanji saying 'tank-top' with his old dusty sneakers because his red sneakers were still on top of the roof.

Before heading out Izuku ate some toast and an orange. If he got hungry later on their run he could always eat more when they got back. As Izulu started to leave the apartment Izuku tripped over an unmarked box that was just left in front of the door.

"Ooo I wonder what it is!” Oboro seemed quite enthusiastic as Izuku went to open the box revealing his faded red shoes and yellow backpack.

"Wai-how-who found my stuff?" Izuku asked immediately putting the bag by the door and quickly changing between uncomfortable and comfortable shoes.

"I don’t know, when I got back from wandering around the package was just...there."

"Maybe someone found it and found out where I live from my contact info and address was written inside…?” Izuku wondered out loud.

“I guess so,” Oboro said looking to the bright sight of things.

‘But what if it was...All Might. Yeah, I’m glad that I don’t have to go back up there to collect my things but...I don’t want to have to depend on All Might to help me with my own problems.’

“Hey don’t think like that Izu! I know you’re not a huge fan of the guy, but you don’t have to beat yourself down like that. I know you’re better than that” Oboro spoke sternly trying to make a point, but that soon backfired as warmth spread through his body.

“Hold up- could you always hear my thoughts?” Izuku questioned as he started to jog away from the apartment.

“So far I can heat some things. Like your thoughts that way heavily on you emotionally. But it could possibly work to talk to me through your mind. So you don’t look like a freak talking to themselves.” Oboro quickly informs Izuku as to not worry him.

Sighed Izuku. That was true. Though he kept thinking about it as he jogged. As they passed Dagobah Municipal Beach, the sun had started to rise. Taking in a deep breath was the wrong reason as Izuku cringed from the awful smell of garbage. Despite the smell, Izuku took a break, taking a seat at the entrance.

"Oh gross. What is this place?" Oboro asked with a clear sound of disgust in his voice.

"Well," Izuku started."This is Dagobah Municipal Beach Park. It has accumulated trash coming from the sea for years, turning it from a beautiful beach spot into a trash heap for everyone's unwanted or broken belongings." It was really a shame. As a kid, Izuku recalled going to the beach. Lie under a beach umbrella, making sandcastles. But by the time he was tall enough into the water, it was already flooded with trash by then.

"That's terrible." Oboro seemed deeply upset about this actually. It made Izuku want to do something about it. But before Izuku could voice his thoughts Oboro spoke up.

“Hey Izu, could we make a quick visit to a convenience store?”

“Sure...what exactly do you want me to get?” Izuku asked, despite having an idea what Oboro was thinking.

“Well...you’re going to need to get some garbage bags and some gloves.”

Izuku then dashed towards the nearest convenience store with determination in his eyes. A frail-looking lady turned the key to open the doors as he walked by. Causing her to recoil in slight shock, Izuku realized that with his rapid approach he had frightened her. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'd just come to purchase some garbage bags and some gloves.

The older woman seemed to soften something about his face as she smiled and opened his door. "Sure thing, they’re both in the last aisle on your right."

Before she went inside, Izuku thanked her and smiled back. He quickly found what he was looking for and brought a box of trash bags and a pair of workers gloves onto the counter.

"What's the hurry, son? Why do you need trash bags this early in the morning? You aren't trying to cause trouble are you?" the old woman pointed to Izuku with an accusing finger, and he shook his head quickly.

"Oh no, ma'am! I thought that I could just try and clean the beach up! I passed it while I was on my morning run!" Izuku assured, voicing Oboro’s plan

At this, the elder woman gently smiles while scanning the items. “Wow, is that right?” she said astonished, “ You know how long that place has been a mess? What makes you believe you can do it all by yourself?"

Her words weren't really painful, she was just being realistic. He knew she was right. He certainly had no obligation to clean up the beach. He could have just ignored it and easily went about his day. But he knew if he wanted to be a hero then he would need to start off the roots of how heroes came to be. How they used to work. Heroes in the beginning didn’t do what they did for fame. No. They didn’t care for the recognition they would get. They did it because they just wanted to help.

“That’s the thing, ma’am. I thought that it wouldn’t hurt to try. It’s also a great way to work out, instead of having to buy workout equipment or get a gym membership!” Izuku brightly smiles towards the lady as he handed her the money to buy his items.

“Well, I wish you luck, kid. I’m guessing that you’ll need a place to put the trash you collect.” She stated, Izuku smiling sheepishly at her rubbing the back of his head she continued, “There are two dumpsters in the alley behind the store, they get taken every Monday.”

"Thank you, ma'am!" Izuku said genuinely as he headed for the door. He didn't think too much about how he would dispose of the garbage, so it was good to have one offered.

Oboro began to laugh as Izuku jogged back towards the beach. "Cheaper than having to buy workout equipment or get a gym membership! Man, how true that is nowadays!”

The first garbage bags were packed very quickly. broken bottles, cans of beer, old and rotting newspaper, all of it was poured into the trash bag. Plastic, paper, glass, etc. Izuku could take them to a recycling center! He was already pumped about this new project when Oboro spoke up.

“Hey, Izu, before you toss that into the bag” placing his hand on Izuku’s making him feel warmth blossom closest to the soda, can packaging he was holding in that hand. “make sure you cut each circle so if they end up in wildlife again then animals won’t get their heads stuck inside.”

Izuku's eyes lit up as he started to tear apart each loop before placing it in one of the bags used for recycling. Soon Izuku had used up a quarter of the box of trash bags gone and only had 6x5 feet rectangle cleared of the beach.

3 notes · View notes

honeybeesintheimpala · 4 years

Text

Title: An Angel's Lullaby

Pairing: DeanCas, Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Words: 93,662

Status: Complete

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7984306/chapters/18268822

Chapter One - The Man with the Ocean Eyes

"Excuse me," a gravelly voice suddenly fills the room and Dean's pen nearly goes flying, heart pumping. It's been at least two days since anyone's even walked through those doors and being alone with his thoughts isn't exactly a new thing but for that long, it gets to be a surprise when someone says something. He keeps it under control though, doesn't look up except a quick glance at a nice pair of khakis and a deep purple jumper.

He goes back to scribbling on the piece of paper where he's supposed to be filling out a request for another truck to come and take away a few boxes of older books, bring them to a charity or a foster house somewhere.

"What can I help you with," he says, surprised that his own voice is bored considering his heart is pounding out a Jamaican beat and he's pretty sure he almost pissed his pants.

"I was just wondering if there are any books that you might recommend? I'm in the mood for reading, but not really sure what to look for," the man speaks at a low volume, as if there's anyone here to be disturbed.

Dean's intrigue is piqued though, so he pauses his doodles, knits his eyebrows together and looks up.

His eyes trace up the outline of his jumper, which wraps nicely around a narrow waist and a great chest, then leads into a white collared shirt, tan neck, a scruffy jaw that can't decide between chiseled and soft, some full lips that look like they might be chapped bit also look incredibly kissable, a straight-edge nose, and finally, two unfathomable blue eyes, shining bright as the Caribbean ocean that Dean is entirely too sure they are made of. His hair is a messy looking, bed-head-esque mop of dark chocolate brown and he smiles down at Dean as if he isn't the most attractive person Dean's ever encountered.

He's actually blown away by the fact that this man is inside a nearly failing library right now instead of out modeling a white pinstripe suit and blue tie from Men's Warehouse somewhere.

This time, Dean thinks he may actually piss his pants, but he refrains from any sort of urination onto cloth, as a mind-blowingly handsome man with some captivating blue eyes that seem to have stolen the sea is standing in front of his desk, asking about books.

He also refrains from exhibiting all of these passing thoughts on his face, because it feels like it's been a few minutes since he asked the question and the guy's probably starting to think Dean's some weirdo who can't speak under pressure.

"Library's a dying business, sir," he sits back in his chair and sets the pen down slowly. "Yeah, all the kids got their...electronic readers and...there are bookstores that sell books. Never out of stock of a specific book. Sometimes we get that; not having a specific book because all the copies got checked out...or we used to have that..."

The man stares down at him with such focus and intent, nodding along and knitting his brows together. Who is this guy?

"Nah, I mean, it's amazing that...someone wants a book so badly and loves it so much that they gotta buy it and have it forever," Dean continues, then leans forward again, grabbing a book to his left and wiggling it in the air. "Not so awesome for the library."

"That's so...intriguing...that you respect those other industries so much..." He replies, squinting, head tilting in a puppy dog manner.

Dean chuckles, setting the book down. Stares at the black cover as his smile slowly fades.

"Not much else I can do," he shrugs, shuffling through several books to find the one with the light yellow-beige cover, red outline and text reading Oliver Twist glaring up at him, and a small, square, painted picture of a boy in a hat playing at the edge of a wood sitting just above the title. "Once these places shut down, I'll inevitably drift into a bookstore, sign up to be a clerk or a stocker. 'Cause I mean," he flips the book over and opens the back page. Pulls out the name card from the pocket glued to the inside of the cover and examines it. "Yeah, a book ain't been checked out from here in three months."

He laughs and throws the book to his right, watches it skid across the table and come to a stop beside the red canvas hardcover with shiny blue letters indenting the words Of Mice and Men.

"Wow...so...I mean, how do you guys stay in business?" The guy is leaning ever forward, hands gripping the edge of the desk and arms stick straight as he balances himself over the books.

Dean smirks up at him.

"Ah," he scrubs at the back of his neck, cheeks hot, and looks away into the corner of the main entrance. "Well, charities? Mostly...and, uh, you know, school fundraisers, donations from the coffee shop down the street." He squints up at the giant skylight making up about ninety percent of the roof, thinking. "Oh, uh...this one guy. Some sorta bookwrite. Author of...damn, what are those things called...gaaahh...oh! An Angel's Lullaby!" Recognition passes over the man's face in clear abundance. "Guy's name, I'm still drawin' a blank on--"

"Chuck Shurley," the guy cuts him off but Dean is impressed. It's such an obscure book but he obviously knows it well.

"Yeah!" He points at the guy. "Yeah, yeah. You know him? I mean, his work?"

"Yeah...too well...why?"

"Ah, no...I'm just...just surprised, you know? Not a real popular selection," Dean thinks for a moment and it falls silent once more. Then: "You met him? He did a book signing here once. Not many people came, but..."

"Oh, yeah I've met him..." He doesn't elaborate, but Dean suspects it's because he just explained it for the guy, and it seems like it's making him a little uncomfortable anyway.

"Uh," he looks for something that might change the subject. "Well, to answer your first question..." He opens his mouth to continue but ends up chuckling and shaking his head. "Look, man, there's just too many books and not enough time. I've been coming to this library my entire life, probably read every single book by now. I mean, I can point you to some of my favourites, I guess, but really the only one off the top of my head and without me getting up is An Angel's Lullaby."

"Are you religious?" He asks suddenly and Dean's bewildered by the inquiry until he realises how obsessed he must seem with the book.

"Oh..." He breathes out a laugh. "Nah, that's...I'm an atheist, actually. I'm just...really into angels. Religions and...gods and deities are my thing. To be honest, I could probably list thirty Christian angels off the top of my head."

"Really," he seems impressed and Dean blushes harder. "How about...the three main archangels and...the Angel of Thursday."

Specific...and strange. But okay, he'll play along. For the sake of flirting.

"Okay...well there's Michael, the eldest son of God who was set to the task of casting Lucifer, second oldest, into hell because he claimed he could not love humanity as he loved his father. Gabriel, protector of humanity, present at the birth of Jesus Christ and the deliverer of the Holy news. And then...actually, my favourite, if I'm honest-" he looks up and watches the man's lips part, a blush crawling up his neck too, and he briefly wonders why, "-Castiel. Angel of Thursday, keeper of prayers said on that day." He smirks for a second before adding, "Always heard he was a real looker."

The man seems flustered, tugging at his jumper, pulling the v-neck away from his chest and adjusting his collar.

"Me too," he chokes out and Dean thinks it's entirely unfair how cute this man looks with a scarlet flush painting his cheeks and his hands not able to find a resting placing.

"I..." Dean starts, gazing down at his hand fiddling with the edge of a hardcover, nail scraping against the canvas. "I think I remember a few more books. Not real sure what you would like, but, uh..." He tears a corner off of the paper he was drawing on and scribbles down the titles and respective authors, then continues as he hands the list to the man. "Most of 'em are...classics...Little Women, Gone With the Wind, A Wrinkle in Time, Wuthering Heights...the original and best...version of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."

The man smiles down at the list and then down at Dean, and Dean's heart leaps into his throat.

"Thank you," he says quietly and Dean's eyes flit down, small smile of modest pride lifting his lips.

"Don't mention it," he whispers back, gaze meeting the man's once more. Then he leans forward and takes up the pen again, waggling it between two fingers. He leans on his bent arm and says, "So, you plannin' on checkin' anything out today, sir?"

And, without blinking or missing a beat, the man replies with the most unexpected answer, letting the words drip from his lips like fuckin' honey when he replies, "Just you."

Dean is astonished at this guy's guts, but a brazen vocabulary and a cocky attitude is exactly the kind of thing that gets him going.

He opens his mouth in a shocked kind of smile, and shakes his head as if he's offended at the nerve of those words.

"I...don't even know your name," Dean says slowly, eyes twitching from the man's leg to his chest to his mouth to his eyes. When they meet, the man tilts his head with another squint, this one more challenging than curious. Amazing how he can squint in the same manner with just the slightest differences and change the entire composure of the movement.

But Dean doesn't let himself get too distracted by this ability, and soon encounters a moment of realisation.

The blushing, fidgeting, stumbling words when he talked about Castiel...

"Your name is Castiel," he whispers, astounded. "And you have three brothers." Then more realisation. "And you haven't met Chuck Shurley, you used to live with him."

Castiel pushes his lips out and looks down, scratches through the stubble on the edge of his jaw, nods.

"And I assume," Castiel says, squinting at the wooden triangle at the corner of Dean's desk and smiling, then continuing, "your name is Dean Winchester and you work as a librarian."

"Hey, I am not...a librarian," he protests playfully, grin growing on his teeth. "I am...a book obsessed...checker...outer."

Castiel laughs and Dean gives him a look for a moment before bursting out into his own fit of laughter at how utterly ridiculous that title sounds.

"I'm guessing that sounded better in your head?"

"It did," Dean nods and chucks the pen at one of the books, sitting back in his chair again and kicking his legs up onto his desk. He cranes his neck and reaches behind him, grips the back of another rolling chair, and rolls it over so it's facing him. Pats the seat and jerks his head. "Come on around." Castiel looks uncertain, sliding the torn paper into his pocket and pursing his lips, slight squint of his eyes. Dean chuckles. "Come on. I don't bite."

"Isn't that against the rules or something?" Castiel asks as he makes his way around the right side of the desk and through the opening in the side, in spite of his words.

"'Eah, mostly," Dean shrugs and pushes his lips out, then smiles. "But no one else is around, don't have any cameras, and-" he holds out a hand, "-I'm a rebel."

Castiel laughs wholeheartedly at this, grin huge and gummy - the most enchanting thing Dean's ever seen - and his head tilted back, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Dean notices a slight dimple in his left cheek and stores that information in the back of his mind for later, when he's having a rough day.

"What," he says, though he knows Castiel is laughing at his insanely stupid joking around.

"Nothing, you're just...really...interesting--"

"Interesting meaning...lame?" He squints and adds, "Dumbass, weirdo, bad amusement--"

"Hey, I genuinely laughed at that," Castiel points a finger at him, not hiding his grin.

Dean shakes his head, looks away, licks his lips. Things settle for a moment.

Dean plays with the hem of his black t-shirt, scratches his nails over the faded denim of his jeans, examines the familiar dark splotch of oil on the knee. He would dress nicer for work, but the last time anyone even walked through the doors was 48 hours ago, and he wasn't expecting any company today, either.

"Can't believe I'm flirting with the son of my favourite author," he mutters, reaching back over the back of his chair to snatch up another pen.

Castiel scoffs playfully, and Dean catches the smirk on his face when he turns back around.

"You call that flirting," Castiel quips, unbuttoning the wrists if his collared shirt and rolling the sleeves of both the shirt and jumper up.

Dean lets his brows drop and pushes his lips out in confusion. "Well...yeah..." Dean watches Castiel stifle a smile and glance down and away. "Why, what do you call it."

Castiel peeks up through mischievous, dark lashes and swimming eyes, lips parting in a secretive smirk.

"Honestly?" He starts, shifting in his seat and sitting back, settling his hands together in his lap. "A sad but sweet attempt to impress me."

"Oh, is that so?"

Castiel nods, grin growing across his cheeks.

"And what would you consider flirting, mr. big-shot-I-know-exactly-how-to-woo-the-ladies?"

"Well, first of all," Castiel leans forward, rests an elbow against his knee, uses the armrest to balance himself, and points at Dean with raised brows, as if he's about to teach a lesson. "Sir. There's a difference between being laid back and being downright cocky. And you-" the corner of his lips twitches up very briefly, and his cyan blue eyes turn dark "-are neither."

"So what, exactly," Dean whispers, fingers a bit too loosely woven around the pen, teeth digging into his lip. "Do you propose I do about it?"

Castiel's gummy smile is printed into his teeth again and he shrugs a shoulder, bringing his lips down in an impressed bow.

"Well, that's the first step. Ask what you are instead of asking what to change. When you know, even if it's not true, even if it's only what another person sees, you can accept it."

Dean squints, leaning further back into his chair, pressing his index finger into the ballpoint, black ink tip of the pen and the other to the textured top of the cap wrapped around the end, pushing his tongue into his cheek and pursing his lips.

"Alright, fine. What am I?" Dean imposes, then grips the tip of the pen between his thumb and finger and adds, "To you. Smartass."

This earns him a short chuckle and an approving nod.

"Well...I think...you're reserved. You act like you're king shit and like you know exactly who you are, like you don't give two flying fucks about where you're headed in life, or maybe like you've already accepted it. You act comfortable with yourself, but what nerd is ever actually satisfied with their existence?" He's leaning ever-forward and Dean's cocksure smile is ever-fading, eyes becoming wide with marvel as the man-who-knows-too-much continues. "I think you're unsure. You're scared and you...you hide things that you think no one cares about. You're upset and self-deprecating. Eyes of a guilty conscience."

Dean drops his gaze, first to the floor, then to the pen, still grasped tightly by his fingers which have fallen into his lap and which fiddle vapidly with the object, nail scraping at the black polycarbonate and over the white indents that spell out the company name.

"But," Castiel starts up again, voice soft and lilting. Dean swallows hard. "I think you have a lot to give. I think you have...maybe too much to give. Too much forgiveness, too much love, too much doubt, too much strength and care. I think you are the embodiment of generosity, but you don't take what you really need in return. And I think that can get dangerous, but I also think that nothing is ever really too much." Dean's eyes flit back up in time to catch Castiel's angling downward, past Dean's chair, through the desk, through the floor, staring wistfully at something intangible. "People are greedy. And you're too willing to give."

Dean searches the man's face for any sign that this is all some sort of joke, that he's being filmed or some shit, but all he finds is truth and wisdom and knowledge, and possibly a glimmer, just a glimpse in those blue eyes, of a bittersweet past, an origin for where these words came from.

"I was right!" He exclaims as he sits back in the chair, shoulders trembling with a silent laugh. "You like to cover up your pain with gay jokes and stupid references."

"Now, that, I can't deny," Dean nods and everything falls silent. He rocks his chair gently, side to side, left to right, fingers still fidgeting with the tips of the pen, his head tilted in thought. Castiel's mouth is pulled up into a ginger smile, his eyes faraway and swimming in themselves, in the past, in glistening memories and soft-edged, slow-motion, sunny-fielded dreams. "What about you?" He asks suddenly, voice crackling and ripping through the still air as a quiet question. Castiel eyes don't move but his smile grows slightly. "I mean...what do you think of yourself."

"Not much," he replies, head lolling to the side and back, eyes catching on the impotent, pathetic little piles of books scattered about Dean's desk. "I like books. Reading. Writing. Time-consuming, arbitrary activities which include my eyes scanning words on a piece of pressed wood?" He furrows his brows and Dean throws his head back in a genuine, full laughter that he hasn't experienced in a long time.

"I can tell you write. What do you write about? Like, schmoopy romance novels? Sci-fi thrillers? Action adventure futurism?"

"And I can tell you do a lot of librarian...ing..." Castiel squints and presses his lips together in the contrite afterthought but continues, nevertheless. "I write what my dad would call 'a bunch of gay shit'." Dean cocks a brow. "Get your head out of the gutter, it's not as sexy as it sounds. For the most part. Bottom line, I'm gay, I hang out with gay people, and I wanted to dedicate my life to writing about it, about that experience. But my dad has never approved much."

"You don't say."

"Yeah...he's...more into theology. I think the one book he's ever written that really ventures into the realm of fiction, or at least dips it's toes past the line, is An Angel's Lullaby."

"Which parts are real?" Dean scratches the pen across the bumpy plastic chair arm and watches the black ink run in splotches over the grey of the polyvinyl.

"Our names, obviously," Castiel shifts again, bringing his leg down from across his knee and kicking off from the floor so he spins in a circle. Dean watches with a strangely adoring smile. "It's funny that that's the part most people think is fiction. But, no. Mom was a Jesus nut and Dad is too passive to care, so we ended up with angelic names and weird looks from sane people. The only parts that aren't completely true are the things like our address, the colours they painted our rooms, some of the dialogue that he added or got rid of in order to make the conversations more interesting or sensible - you know, just these really inane things..."

He trails off and he's staring at Dean with expectant brows, and Dean realises he's staring too, realises Castiel probably stopped because it's weird how attentive he is.

"Sorry. You're fun to listen to."

Castiel's cheeks paint themselves a thick fuchsia and his eyes drop to his empty palms resting uselessly in his lap, the lines becoming suddenly very interesting. Then they catch on his watch and widen and his head whips up.

"Well, if I'm so interesting to listen to," he leans forward, snatches the pen from Dean's hand, then takes the other hand and begins a careful scrawl across the back of it as he continues, "why don't you call me. And we can figure out a time to meet at the-" he recaps the pen and gently replaces it in Dean's hand "-coffee place down the street. But, right now, I have to go. College...and shit. Studying for a major in English takes a lot of time away from socialising."

"Sorry to keep you, I didn't--"

"No no no! It was..." His blush deepens and he stands, head down. "It was incredible to meet you. I really hope I can see you again."

"O-Of course," Dean's voice comes out stammered and soft, crackling with hope and fear and adoration, and Castiel smiles broadly.

"Great," he whispers back, then he's rushing around the side of the desk and out the front door and Dean is left to wonder if the entire exchange was even real or if his lonely, empty mind is just playing games.

When he looks at the neat, black little numbers on his hand, he realises just how real right now is.

6 notes · View notes

cloudyyangel · 3 years

Note

I did not stay up too late last night! Kinda. But I DID however sleep like complete and total ass.....

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I still managed to have a nightmare tho 😭 and then work was fine but then I found a blue jay wing feather I was gonna give my bestie and then I lost it >.< so I unfortunately cannot channel hyper puppy energy anymore. Only needy sad tired pup. (I have some days off soon) Still up for soft kisses and touches to make the stress go away. Little soft murmured thank yous and compliments that might not fully make sense to me but feel good to say.

(Putting a little warning here cause i progressively get more sad after this)

Also feel like being a bit of a little shit for some reason. Had some sassy response all typed up but can't bring myself to send it. Cant be impulsive when you can take what you say back i suppose. But you, really do spoil me you know that? I get so hyper sometimes it's hard to think. Or so anxious I can't stop thinking. So thats why being submissive sounds so good. Like maybe I can be calm. Maybe I can be safe.

I'm kind of, starved for affection and validation I'll be honest (and also touch starved of course). I dont understand why though. I have friends. Which is part of why I maybe, send an ask a day because I'm scared of getting too attached because when I like/trust someone I've become too much too quick and that wouldnt be right. I'd be treating you as a service rather than a person. And I want, and I want and i want. You remind me a lot of a friend of mine I used to have (just minus all the sarcasm, and the randomly ghosting me) and I think they knew I was too dependent on them. And they me. And they were terrible at saying when something was too much and I wanted and I wanted and I wanted. And I got so good at telling when they were overwhelmed and stopping but it wasnt right. I wasn't right.

Its not right for me to care about you when we hardly know each other. But I want to. I wanna be friends but I dont know how. And I dont understand why wanting affection or just, wanting to give it makes me so scared of hurting people. Because I thought that before I met them too. I just wanna be happy and make people happy. But I'm a person not a service too I'm just, bad at letting people close.

I have good days sometimes now. I can get excited and happy again. I think that's why this sorta, episode I just talked myself through here hurts in a specific way. But I think you said I could vent once. And as long as I'm remembering right I'm gonna try to believe you. That maybe this was okay to do. And if it wasnt then I'll do better. And I'm not gonna apologize cause apologizing for having feelings is bad. But I really really want to. Please take care of yourself okay? I'm gonna go eat some food cause I think I need it. And maybe hug my cat. But he hasnt really been in a hugging mood today so I might just lay next to him and stare at him til he bites me which is good too -puppy anon

Okay so this is really really long and I’m just going to respond to each paragraph.

I’m sorry you had a nightmare! I get really bad ones and sleep paralysis sometimes so I understand how that can be. Ah! But sometimes that’s a good thing! There’s this saying that if you lose a feather then it flies back to its original bird and grants you a wish!! It’s okay if your not happy today or hyper; being a sad and tired puppy is fine. I’ll always be up for soft kisses, telling you how good you are, and holding you close.

You can be a little shit. If you feel like being bratty and sassy then go for it. I do like to spoil people- have them open themselves up and be who they truly want to be. But I also understand that sometimes that can be detrimental to a person if they aren’t ready for it which I why I don’t try to push people- I let them take control completely despite however much control I seem to have. Being submissive is a big deal, you give up control but only if you feel safe and comfortable with that person.

I’m so sorry you feel like this- I know it can be hard to feel starved even when you have friends by you. I’m just going to say- you can message me however much you want, you can talk to me however you want whether on here or discord or wherever. Send me 50 messages a day and I’ll respond to them no problem. Send me one super long message and I’ll answer every little thing in it. Send me a novel on discord and I’ll read and review it. I don’t feel like you’re treating me as a service. I feel like you’re treating me as someone you can be open with and that’s a wonderful thing. You’re not going to be “too much too quick” no matter how you act okay? I’m really laidback and chill and flexible. I can handle a lot of different personalities and emotions. I know just saying this won’t turn off that anxiety, but you don’t have to worry about it. I know just saying “don’t worry” rarely helps so hopefully I can show you instead. A big part of me is communication so I will 100% say if I need to take a day to myself or if we need to change a subject. I’ll always let you know.

If you want to be friends then I’m over the moon excited about that. I do care about you; I care about how your day went and if you drank enough and how you’re feeling. We can be friends by just talking, asking questions and learning about each other or just say right now “hey we’re friends”. I can’t speak for others, but me personally- you are not hurting me. I give everything I have because I am able too. This person is who is I am and I will not be scared off, or overwhelmed, or ghost you. You are a person, a good person from what I can tell, and I will never want more from you than you’re able to give and the second I overstep I know you will tell me so.

You can always vent, or rant or cry or ramble. I’m not just here for the happy hyper side of you. I know you’re a person with ups and downs and I’m okay with all of that. I’m here for every side and every way. I give myself fully to people, but I don’t see it as a problem because I have so much to give, no one takes advantage of me or uses me and I never feel like that.

Cats are finicky.

#📫 mail’s here!#puppy anon #long post

0 notes

clockworkfromspace · 4 years

Conversation

The Book v2 chapter 2

*Andrè begins to walk about the halls toward the door*

Chris was in there even though he was an Ultrabeings

Jea: Hi Chris!

He waves

Any teachers?

No? Good.

Mr. Taio: Okay everyone. Welcome to Ultra Study. If you took this class with me before, you should know that I am one of the seven most capable people equipped to teach this class.

*Andrè runs outside*

FREEEEEEEEDOMMMM

...

Freedom feels the same as being imprisoned

After school

Jea and Jenifer get on their bus

Josh goes to the car rider exit

*The next day*

Chris was already there

-Josh waits outside the bus ramp for the twins-

-their bus originally shows up-

Chris walks to the bus ramp but sees Josh and walks away

*Andrè shows up to school with a knife on his belt*

Morning

Chris was walking back needing to talk to jea

-the twins walk off the bus but Jea dresses like Jenifer so it's harder to tell them apart-

"Uuhh....jea?...."

-Jenifer subtlety points at Jea-

He looks at jea "Can I talk to you privately please?..."

Jea gasps

"How'd you know it was me? Do wolves have one sort of 6th sense or something?"

"No not really but this is important..."

Weird humans

Imma go inside

Jea: What do you need?

"Something happened yesterday and I need your help...."

Jea: Go on

"Can I talk to you without people around? Please"

Jenifer: I got where she goes

"Fine i-i'm...homeless my abusive brother threw me out yesterday"

Live in a tent-like I do

"So...the reason I wanted to talk to jea is that I trust her..."

Jenny: Need me to pound on your big bro? -she cracks her knuckles-

Need a hit?

Jea: No more fighting! You promised Jenny.

Just stole a night vision scope yesterday

Jenny: I promised I'd fight less.

Well I'm a free spirit

No parents

No relatives

No love or compassion

Jenifer: You dude, who are you anyway?

Andrè

I'm a hitman

Sorta

If someone would hire me

Jenifer: I have a few enemies.

Jea: Jennyyyyy

Jenifer: Kidding! -she mouths- "Sort of"

Heh

Who are you, people

Jea looks at both of them

"I'm not leaving the two of you alone. Now back to Chris"

Jea: I'm Jea and this is my sister Jenny. That's all there really is to us.

"Really...."

So Chris

"Hm?"

Tents are 15 bucks at Walmart

"I am not living in no tent!"

Man up

I live in one

"And I have no money my brother has it all"

Get a job

Jea: No one should have to live in a tent.

Jenifer: I agree but it's not like there's a variety of options

Jea frowns

Welp

My mom left and my dads dead soooooo

Jea: Oh! I know. He can live with us

Jenifer: Dad would never let that slide

Jea: You're right

Jenifer: Though, they don't really need to know...

If they found out

I don't think they'd appreciate having enough bombs in their basement to cause world war 3

Jenifer: Then I'll take the heat.

Jea: Jenny no.

Jenifer: Were not debating this.

Well

It's nicer than waking up to 3 wolf spiders

Jea: By the way, you weren't serious about the bombs right?

Ummm

Maybe

But I do have sniper rifles and assault rifles

Jenifer: Dude, as cool as it sounds, no heavy artillery in the house. Maybe a few handguns. Something easy to hide.

Where the hell am I supposed to keep my mini-nuke?

I'm joking

Jea: Thank god

But where am I supposed to, keep my guns

Jea: How about you keep all of your things that could be used to incriminate you in your tent.

Jea: and OUT OF OUR HOUSE

Jenifer: Also, where are we going to keep them? Andre and Chris I mean.

Jea: no one uses the attic.

Jenifer: Too many webs to clean.

Jenifer: though, if they're willing to clean it out.

Meh

Can't be that bad

Jea turns to Chris

"What do you say?"

He smiles and nods

-later that day, at the end of school-

Jea: Our dad shouldn't be home but just in case, well sneak you through the back door

"And your mom?"

Jea: Dead.

"Oh.....i'm sorry for asking...."

Jea: Its fine.

Jenifer: Come on, our bus is this way

He nods and follows

*Andrè follows*

They get to the house-

-Jenifer leads them to the attic-

"thank you again"

Jea: Anything for a new friend.

Thanks

I only have my micro smg and my 2 revolvers

That's it

Jea: NO GUNS!

Jenifer: Chill out sis

"Dang.."

Hm?

Jea: what's wrong Chris

"N-nothing..."

Jea: Why'd you say dang?

Hello strange human

"Forget i said anything"

hello

my name’s jeff

Jea: What are you doing in our house?

idk i just popped into existence

so who are all of you?

Jea: I'm Jea, this is my twin sister Jenny, this our friend Chris, and some random guy named Andre

I'm a psychotic motherfucker with guns

-You all hear the front door-

Great combination

Chris turns into a puppy and hides

dude that is awesome

Jenifer: Quickly, get into the attic

Jea: And you, mystery guy, sorry but you've got to go

me?

Jenifer: Yeah you

ok *dissappears and reappears in the attic*

Mr. Kon: Girls I'm home!

-Jea walks to the living room- "Hi daddy"

Jenifer: Andre hurry up while Jea distracts him

*wonders why I had to go into the attic*

*Andrè sneaks to the attic*

*whispers*oh hey.

*whispers* why are we in here?

We're not supposed to be here

oh ok

-Jenifer closes it-

wanna see something cool andrè?

Sure

watch this... *morphs into a pit viper and slithers around andrè*

Cool

I would shoot you but that would compromise us

*morphs back into a human*

That would*

don’t shoot me

Mr. Kon notices Christ's tail

Mr. Kon: Jea, did you bring home another stray?

I’m an animagus. I can transfigure into a snake at will

Jenifer whispers: go with it

He yelps scared and runs off

Jea: Yeah. But don't be upset.

don’t laugh at me... *disappears and reappears behind André*

behind*

I can teleport too

Jenifer: I told her not to but look at his eyes.

Mr. Kon: I can't he keeps running off.

so whatcha wanna do why we’re stuck up here

Chris sits down in front of Mr. Kon and looks at him with sad eyes

Jea: Can we pleaaaase keep him?

-Mr. Kon notices a lack of man parts- "I think you mean her and..... Sure."

Jenifer: She meant him. Meet the world's first transgender dog.

Mr. Kon: The fuck?

Jea: SWEAR JAR!

The dog smiles at jenny

Mr. Kon: Are you kidding me?

Jea: Nope!

His tail wags a lot

He jumps on Mr. Kon

Mr. Kon: Ah

-the next day-

Chris wakes up

He gets ready and heads to the bus stop without being seen

*Andrè sneaks out the house and walks to school

Out*

*teleports from the attic to the first block*

Chris was in his first block

ooh hey. I remember you. u were that puppy!

He blushes "y-ya...."

*teleports behind Chris* I can transfigure into a snake

Chris stabs jeff before he spoke not knowing who it was

*writhes in pain* ow-owwww

"Oh god...... I'm so sorry" he bandages it up

i-it’s fine

I heal fairly fast too

*wound stops bleeding*

"So your not human either?"

idk what I am

I’m a teleporting animagus

and I have fairly fast healing abilities

"Which is not human"

yeah

"And you already know I'm not human but anyway what's your name I forgot to ask"

it’s jeff

yours?

"Chris"

well nice to meet you, Chris! *sticks hand out to shake Chris's hand*

Chris shakes his hand

so, who were the other people?

"Idk their classes...."

well, who were they?

"Jea and jenny"

*time skip to lunch*

Jea, Jenifer, and Josh show up

Together

Chris walks up to them he looks at jea and jenny "please don't be mad at me because of yesterday"

Jea: Mad about what?

*walks into the cafeteria and over to Chris*

hey guys

"About your dad seeing me... And hey"

*whispers to Chris* do other people at the school know about us having abilities or do we have to keep that hidden?

Jea: That wasn't your fault

Jenifer: It was a little. He could have stayed calm and rushed to the attic instead of running off as a puppy.

"Keep them hidden"

Jenifer: Though things worked out for the better

"Y-ya...."

damn... that means I gotta walk places

Jenifer: It's better to have him disguised as a puppy then hiding him like Andre

you guys must me Jea and Jenifer. I’m jeff

Jea: We already met

oh yeah

Jea: You popped into our house

still don’t know how I got there

"Ya"

thanks

I wanna pull a prank *smirks*

"On who?"

I don’t know

we gotta find a group of preppy girls

Jea: That would be mean.

I know

Jenifer: Yet funny.

but hella funny

Jenifer: I'm in.

Jea: Jennyyyyy.

ayy... i like your attitude *smiles and looks at jenifer* u seem pretty cool.

well chris can turn into a puppy, correct?

Jea: You're a bad influence -she glares at Jeff-

i know *smirks*

Jenifer: Not really, sweety. I was born this way. He has nothing to do with it

Jea: Yeah but he came up with the prank idea.

"Ya jeff i can.."

Jea: Besides, you've already been written up 11 times and it's only the third day of school.

Jea: Make that 15

Jea: CHRIS NOT YOU TOO

so the plan is, you’re gonna lure them over to you with the adorable puppy eyes

Josh: Can I help?

Jenifer: ew, no way.

"Oh no...."

and then i’m gonna be in snake form and i’m going to teleportin between them and you

teleport in between*

it’ll be great.

Jenifer: More of a jump scare than a prank.

and sure josh i guess you and jenifer can point chris out

yeah but still funny as hell

so you guys in?

"Yes!"

Jea turns around and crosses her arms

Jenifer: Hell yeah

Josh: Yep

-jenifer pushes Josh aside-

#AST

0 notes