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junkissed · 1 year

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vampire boyfriend!jun headcanons

member — vampire bf!jun x shy reader (gn) genre — headcanons (bullet points), fluff, humor word count — 950 warnings — mentions of blood (not belonging to anyone specific) notes — requested by anon — i always have brainrot for limbo jun anon i feel you 😔 i meant for this to be like. 400 words but i got carried away lol i am #1 vampire jun agenda supporter. i hope this is something like you wanted!

one reblog = one 'witchcraft' microwave dinner

it’s a good thing for you that jun is also shy. partially due to the fact he can’t go outside during the day without being wrapped in a hundred layers and a dozen coats of sunscreen, and partially due to the fact that he just doesn’t like people in general, most days and nights are spent quietly in his living room in his house at the edge of town. reading books and watching tv wrapped up on the couch together is a favorite pastime of you both.

it’s truly a match made in heaven (or wherever vampires come from).

he’s not so reclusive that he doesn’t know what modern things are, but you have may have to teach him about things every once in a while. he’s got modern appliances like a refrigerator and a stove, but a microwave? never heard of it. he has a fairly up-to-date computer, but what’s that little box you always carry around? a phone? he’s got one of those hanging on the wall in the kitchen, why don’t you have a landline?

he convinces you to go grocery shopping with him one day, and you have to explain what instant meals are. yes, you can put the whole thing in the microwave, and it’ll be ready to eat in a couple minutes. no, it’s not witchcraft. (he’s had a few unfortunate run-ins with witches in the past, he avoids them at all costs now.)

he likes to think he’s big and scary and protective, but he’s not so much in practice: “if that cashier at the supermarket looks at you like that again, i’m gonna bite him!” whispered to you, followed by a polite “thanks so much have a nice day!” to him. he’s got the spirit, but when it comes to interacting with humans he’s just as shy, if not more shy, than you are.

he also loves reading the newspaper with you every morning. a physical newspaper that he’s had delivered to this address for over a century, and you can only wonder how no one ever suspected him. you find it so endearing when he gets excited over the smallest things reading the morning news, “do you know how many presidents i’ve lived through? this one’s my favorite, though!”

he gets up before you and makes coffee or tea or whatever you like and brings it to you in bed every single morning. you always blush and you tell him not to, but he does it anyway. he says he likes to spoil you; he’s got hundreds of years of affection built up and nothing to do with it, and now that you’re in his life, you better expect to be doted on 24/7. plus, he likes being all snuggled in bed with you, so why have breakfast out in the kitchen when he can have it while cuddling with you?

he knows it’s hard for you to fall asleep with him in the room since he doesn’t sleep, so he waits in the living room for a bit until he’s sure you’re asleep, then carefully climbs into bed with you.

you quickly discover that he loves making you get shy around him. he’ll tease you, but not in a mean way; just enough to make you blush and hide your face. he’s a big fan of complimenting you, because he thinks it’s so cute how embarrassed you get, but also because he’s just so enamored with you and he needs to make sure he tells you as often as possible.

it took a while for you to be comfortable with asking him questions about his life, but as soon as you start to open up he’ll tell you anything and everything you want to know. he loves telling you stories and recalling all the different places he’s lived– especially those few years in moscow with the traveling circus, but that’s a long story.

he’s been alive for hundreds of years, but somehow he’s still the most impatient person you’ve ever met. you would think he would’ve learned by now that he has plenty of time to wait, but he’s just so excited to be around you he can’t help but be anxious for more.

on the rare occasion you decide to go out somewhere for a date, he’s ready hours in advance, pacing by the front door, waiting for it to be time to leave. “you really look like dracula when you pace like that,” you giggle, coming out from the bathroom to see him walking around the living room with his hands clasped behind his back. he’d pout and go into a rant about how the book makes vampires look like mean manipulative creatures when really he’s just an introverted guy who likes cats and also happens to be immortal and drink blood.

speaking of cats, the both of you probably have more feline friends than human friends. they’re easier to be around, and unlike people, they don’t ask questions when they see jun walking around the house in his pajamas, a half-empty bag of type o in his hand.

at the end of the day most of your time is spent together, maybe a little secluded, but definitely enjoying each other's company <3

thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this, reblog or leave an ask or a comment, it shows me you enjoyed this so i know to write more like this in the future!

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commander-krios · 8 months

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Wherever You Lead

Fandom: Andromeda Six Pairing: Calderon Lynch/Traveler Rating: Teen Summary: Goldis is back in the hands of the Peg'asi monarchy, but big changes are coming to the planet and the rest of Seleota. At least Calderon gets one night of peace with the princess he's fallen head over heels for. Words: 4882 Additional Tags: Royalty, Politics, Ballroom Dancing, Sexual Tension, Romance, Kitalphan Traveler, Post-Game, Post-Canon, Game Spoilers

Read on AO3

~~~~

The hallways in the south wing were quiet, the damage nearly gone thanks to the servants and artisans who had cleaned and reconstructed anything destroyed in the fighting. The war to take the throne from Zovack was won nearly a month ago, a tense peace brokered between those who still stood. Now, it was time to decide what the future held for them all.

Calderon Lynch stood outside of one of the royal suites, staring out of the window at the gardens below. The palace was another world entirely, gold and glittering and its people ignorant of the struggles of those in the districts. At least, it had been. He hoped with Nerissa as the figurehead, something would change. That the blood he and the rest of his crew had given would mean something.

The suite’s ornate door opened to reveal a tiny person with greying dark hair, a beautiful face lined with slight wrinkles, but they wore their age with dignity and grace. Fleur was always radiant, even when Calderon was a child, but there was something humbling about seeing his mother against the ruined backdrop of palace walls. The knowledge that despite the horrible circumstances that brought them here, they were safe and that they were here. His past collided with the present in a strange limbo that still made him feel small and insignificant. That made him feel unworthy of the life he’d been given.

Fleur stepped out of the room, closing the door behind them with a click, only to throw their arms around his middle, hugging him with as much strength as their small form allowed. He didn’t hesitate to return the embrace, pulling them tight against his chest.

“Calderon, there are no words to describe how happy I am to see you.” They whispered, pulling away slightly to smile at him, tears sparkling in their eyes. They brushed a hand down the elaborate navy jacket he wore, gold embroidery reflecting the light. “I knew you would look so handsome in this.”

“You’re never wrong.” He replied, a soft grin crossing his lips.

They sniffed, taking another step back, examining the rest of his attire with a critical eye. Clearing their throat, they straightened his cape, smiling through their emotions. “I’m so proud of the man you’ve become, Calderon. You’ve come a long way from the young boy who ran wild through the streets.”

He snorted, remembering those days with Jasper, back when they were nothing but Gold District kids who had big dreams. “I expect you never imagined I’d end up here. Especially after joining the Guard.”

Fleur smiled fondly, meeting his gaze with a love that he missed on his darkest days while on the run. “Considering how you got on with little Nira as children…”

“You mean how we nearly came to blows as often as she did with her twin?”

“Arlo.” Fleur chuckled, running a hand over their hair, taming a few stray strands, memories dancing in their eyes. “He was always a shit, but you had her back when he took things too far.”

“I didn’t even remember who she was when she walked on my bridge.” Calderon admitted with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “She… hasn’t let me live it down.”

Fleur laughed in that soft way they always managed. “She wouldn’t, would she? Princess Daianira was always a handful. But seeing you so happy… It’s what I always wanted. What your mother and I always wanted. No matter what choices you made in the past, you deserve to be happy.”

“Thank you.”

Daianira had told him, back on Tilaarin, that he deserved more than he thought he did. For the first time since Jasper’s betrayal, he actually believed it.

“Now,” Fleur began, smoothing their hands over their own attire, mind clearly elsewhere. “The coronation starts in an hour. The princess should be nearly ready, but she’s a bundle of nerves.”

Calderon raised an eyebrow, concerned for the first time since stepping foot in the palace that morning. “Is she alright?”

“Oh, she’ll be fine. It’s been a while since she’s attending anything more formal than tea with her mother. She’ll get back into the swing of it, I’m sure. Besides, she’ll have a handsome guard to escort her.” Fleur winked at him and he knew his blush was fierce in response.

“I don’t think I can be considered a guard anymore.” He sighed, the fluttering in his chest at the thought of being on Daianira’s arm too tempting. It was dangerous territory to explore when the future was so uncertain. “But I’ll do my best to help.”

Fleur raised an eyebrow, barely hiding their suspicion as they watched him. “Of course you will.” They paused briefly before pointing a finger into his chest. “You better not be late, Calderon.”

“I’m not going to ruin Daianira’s evening, mother.”

“It’s not her evening I’m worried about. It’s mine.” They teased him. “I’ve worked hard on the gowns for the coronation and I do not intend to let one of them waste away on the floor.”

Calderon didn’t get embarrassed often, but the way his mother was staring at him, he couldn’t help but glance away with a nervous laugh, face heating at the thought of skipping the entire ceremony to spend the night locked in Daianira’s private suite. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Mhm. You haven’t seen her yet.”

He managed to swallow around the lump that’d appeared in his throat, giving his mother a tight smile. “We’ll be there.”

Fleur smiled, placing a hand on his arm. “I’ll see you soon then.”

The sound of their heels echoed down the hall as they made their exit. Calderon took a deep breath, filling his lungs until they felt like they’d explode before releasing it through his nose, trying to find a calm amongst his turbulent emotions. The anticipation over the coronations, his nerves concerning seeing Daianira dressed like a real princess for the first time, and the fact that they were finally free: from Zovack, from running. Once they made it past Nerissa’s coronation, they could work towards a better future for the entirety of Seleota.

When he finally managed to get the courage, Calderon knocked against the door to Daianira’s suite, the sound reverberating in the quiet. It took only a few seconds before she called out for him to enter. Taking another quick breath, hoping it would calm him, he pushed the door open.

The room appeared empty, the sun pouring through the open windows, birds singing as they flew past, a beautiful Goldis summer day that he never expected to see again. He’d never been in many of the palace’s suites before. Only on the rare occasion when Fleur was requested to dress the Stellar Queen for a royal function and he tagged along.

The room was designed like many other sections of the palace, in burgundy and gold, chestnut moulding and furniture, the entire scheme too dark for his tastes. The carpet beneath his feet was plush, muffling his steps as he walked in, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The sun did little to brighten the interior, but the room still had some charm. Roses in shades of cream and pink sat on the table in front of a sofa, their fragrance mixing with the warm breeze.

A pair of pearl combs sat on a dresser, discarded amongst other items: A silver handled brush, a pink sequined scarf that glittered in the sunlight, a clearly loved book with a tattered leather cover. He trailed a finger over the cover, reading the title and not recognizing it.

“Calderon?” Daianira’s voice was small and he nearly missed it.

“I’m here. Are you ready to leave?”

“I…don’t know.” Her voice trailed off, catching his attention. She never lacked confidence. It was inspiring though it exhausted him at times, the two of them butting heads over the stupidest things, but he always loved how she knew who she was, what she wanted, and had no hesitation in making decisions. But this wasn’t the Daianira he was used to hearing: this one sounded terrified.

“Is something wrong?”

A sigh met his ears and he had to stop from smiling. She sounded so frustrated that he could already see the scrunched nose, the slanted eyes, the downturn of her lips. “Just… don’t laugh.”

“I would never.”

Stepping from behind the dressing curtain, Daianira faced him, her hands clutched nervously in front of her, eyes downcast, tracing the patterns in the carpet with her gaze. It was odd to see her so quiet, so unsure of herself, but he couldn’t find the words to speak. Not when she looked like that in a dark gold gown that spilled in soft waves around her, a sweetheart neckline that plunged low enough to see the top of her breasts. A cuffed choker dripped diamonds across her collarbone, sparkling as she moved into the sunbeams. Her rose gold hair was pulled up into a simple tucked bun, a few pieces of hair curling around her face, framing the beautiful turquoise eyes now lined in gold and burgundy.

Calderon lost the ability to breathe at the sight of her standing there, looking every bit the princess that she was born to be. “You…”

She sighed, fingers itching her nose as she tried to hide her irritation. “I look ridiculous. Like a goddamned porcelain doll.”

With three quick strides, he crossed the distance between them, afraid to touch her but his hands twitched with the need to. He hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her face so that she met his eyes. “You look bewitching, Daia.”

She scrunched her face at him and he almost laughed at how disgruntled she looked. “Is that some new kind of insult?”

Calderon shook his head, fingers trailing across her throat, brushing gently over the necklace. She tensed at his touch and he felt like he was touching fire. She burned every part of him, whether she realized it or not. “I don’t need a fancy way to insult you, smartass.”

She swatted at him, a smile twitching her lips. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist before she could make contact, lifting her hand slowly and pressing a kiss against her palm. Her cheeks flushed slightly, biting her lip as she met his gaze. “You know…”

“Don’t even think about it.” He chided her, huffing a laugh. “We don’t have the time.”

“Oh come on. You can’t tell me you didn’t think about it for a second.” Daianira rested her free hand against his chest, eyes burning with a passion she only looked at him with. A passion that he returned a thousand fold. “You want to rip this dress off of me and I won’t stop you.”

Calderon scoffed, pressing a kiss to her hair, the smell of her favorite cinnamon tea lingering between them. His fingers trailed down her arm, leaving goosebumps behind, and she trembled against him. “I’m not going to risk the wrath of my mother. Or your sister.”

She sighed, toying with the fringe on his cape. “Coward.”

He stilled her fingers, squeezing them affectionately before dropping their hands to his side, entwining his fingers with hers. When she met his gaze again, her eyes had softened, affection shining so brightly there, the walls she usually kept built high crumbling the moment he smiled at her.

“Fine. But you better make it up to me later.” She stood on her toes, brushing a kiss over his jaw. He tensed slightly, his hands sliding around her waist, squeezing her sides gently, possessively. Her breath warmed his skin when she lingered, lips tempting him to turn his face and claim them. Somehow, he managed to beat down the desire to a simmering flame.

When she dropped back to her heels, Daianira searched his expression, a grin tilting her lips at whatever she saw. “Good boy.”

His hands dropped away as she turned her back on him, but Calderon refused to yield just yet. He reached out to circle his fingers around her wrist, stopping her from moving more than a few steps. When she glanced back, he could see the laughter in her eyes, a teasing smirk aimed at him. He pulled her closer until she collided with his chest, letting out a breathless laugh, her fingers curling in his jacket.

Dipping his head, he pressed his lips against her gill scars, feeling her melt against him, her hands slipping into his hair, gripping the strands hard and he had to bite back a moan. “This isn’t over, stowaway. Not by a long shot.”

“Sounds like a threat.” It came out as a whisper, her voice straining with the passion she felt.

“A promise, sweetheart. One I’m happy to keep.” As much as he didn’t want to, he forced himself to step back, breaking the hold he had on her hips. Offering his arm instead, Calderon sighed, his smile lighter, happier. It was the happiest he’d been in a long time. “May I escort you?”

Daianira laughed again and his heart soared on the sound. She slipped her arm into his, tilting her head so she was resting against his shoulder. “I’d be honored.”

~~~~~

The coronation had been long and dull, like he’d expected, although there was a decent distraction in the form of a princess sitting in the front row. She’d pretend to inspect the stained glass windows and statues that surrounded the throne room, only for her eyes to land on him, a devious smile curling her lips. Once she turned away, eyes focused on her sister taking her vows, he thought he’d imagined it.

After the third time, Ayame nudged him in the arm, drawing his attention. He was met with the sight of her wagging her eyebrows at him, a conspiratorial grin on her face.

“What?” He muttered, trying to concentrate on the ceremony, but Aya laughed quietly next to him, her giggles shaking her tiny body. “Shut up.”

Ayame leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

Aya laid a hand on his arm, smiling at him with sincerity. Or as much sincerity as she could muster while still laughing at him. “It’s nice to see you happy, Calderon. I didn’t think you were capable of smiling so much.”

He swallowed nervously, ignoring the obvious jab at his normal grumpy countenance, but knowing he should say something. “Thank you, Aya. The same goes for you and Khadar. You two seem to be keeping each other company a lot lately.”

She flushed, shifting closer to Ryona on her other side, refusing to look at him again. He felt a laugh in his chest, but he stifled it when Daianira glanced at him again. His skin itched, the desire to skip the rest of the night and take her back to her suite making him tense, but he knew it wasn't an option. So he tried not to fidget as he sat next to his crew, watching Nerissa Peg’asi be made Queen.

After the coronation concluded, they were whisked away to a ballroom where Daianira and Nerissa were immediately swept onto the dance floor, twirling with the rest of the nobility of Goldis. With a sigh, he situated himself in a quiet corner away from prying eyes, content to watch as his princess enjoyed her evening.

Calderon wasn’t one for small talk so he avoided most of the guests, especially those he wasn’t particularly fond of, nursing a glass of wine and keeping out of the eyeline of his mothers. The last thing he needed was either one of them getting on his case about being a spoilsport.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to keep hidden for the entire night.

“Why are you sulking over here while my sister is dancing with one of your crewmates?”

Calderon froze, the gentle sound of Nerissa’s voice jarring him from his thoughts. He glanced to the side, not surprised to see she’d somehow sneaked up on him. He��d been distracted all evening, mostly by Daianira and her habit of making him smile despite his surroundings. She’d even managed to drag Damon out onto the dance floor and after a few minutes, he was dipping her and making her laugh.

At the moment, June had her in his arms, an enormous grin on his face before he spun her, that golden dress that his mother sewed billowing out around her, glittering under the lights. She was gorgeous, always had been even in the crew’s second hand clothes when she’d first come aboard the Andromeda Six. But now, seeing her in her old life, he felt a twinge of regret at how nothing would ever be the same again. They’d both lost so much and he wasn’t entirely sure what was next.

Rubbing his neck, he sighed, eyes sliding to Daianira again of their own free will. “She’s having fun and I… am not a fan of dancing.”

Nerissa made a noise that he swore was a sigh but it was too soft to tell. She stood next to him, her eerily violet gaze on the scene as well, watching with affection as her youngest sister laughed. “She’s right. You’re stubborn as hell.”

He couldn’t help the snort that escaped. “I’d like to think I’m the least stubborn out of the two of us.”

Nerissa laughed quietly, as reserved as ever. “Considering she finally got her wish, I’d say you have a point in your favor.” She trailed off, her smile disappearing, eyes turning sad as she watched June dip Daianira, her hair nearly touching the ground. “I’m going to miss her.”

Calderon glanced at her, his attention diverted completely now. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“She’s withdrawn from the line of succession. After tonight, she’s no longer a princess.”

When his eyes found Daianira again, she was standing off by the refreshment table, chatting with Ryona and Bash, an excruciatingly beautiful smile on her face. He felt peaceful seeing her so at ease, so free from the pain that crushed only her months ago. “She didn’t tell me.”

“We only decided on the details this morning. She’ll represent the throne as an ambassador to Cursa for the time being. Working with Alisa and Zane to establish an alliance, trade routes, and the planet’s future. Which includes independence. In time.” Nerissa sighed, glancing at her hands, lost in thought for a moment. “She wants to be free from the burden of the throne and I envy that. She deserves to be happy.”

On that point, Calderon could agree with her.

“So, since you didn’t answer my earlier question, I’ll ask you again: Are you going to stay in the corner all night or are you going to ask Nira to dance?”

Nerissa nodded her head at where he’d been staring, only to see that Damon had whisked Daianira onto the dance floor again, looking strangely at ease with the movements. Calderon huffed through his nose, realizing how much it irritated him to see Damon make her laugh. It should be him there with her.

Nerissa laid a hand on his arm briefly, but he found he couldn’t bother looking at her. Not with the way Daianira was smiling, like the sun on a hot afternoon: altogether too bright and beautiful. “It’s her last night here. It should be one to remember.”

The new queen walked away after that, her heels clicking in a steady rhythm as she began to mingle with the uppercrust of Goldis. Smoothing the jacket he wore, he made his way across the dance floor, somehow dodging the waltzing dancers with quick steps, only to come face to face with Daianira and her dance partner.

Damon smirked at his appearance, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, look who decided to take those difficult ten steps over here. Jealous?”

Calderon’s jaw tensed, but he managed to keep a lid on his anger. “You’re delusional.”

Damon’s grin widened, stepping away from Daianira. Calderon expected him to return to whatever the hell he was doing before the dance, but he bowed over her hand instead, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. When he spoke, it was clearly to Daianira, but his eyes were on Calderon. “Let me know when you want to go for round three, sweetheart.”

“Keep flirting and I’ll let Alisa know where you keep that damned cat.” She crossed her arms over her chest and Calderon thought it was the sexiest thing to witness whenever she handed Damon his ass. “And don’t go crying to Zane. He’s just as much Alisa’s bitch as you are.”

“You’re no fun.” He muttered, but the smile on his face said otherwise. “Good night, Princess. Cal.”

Damon disappeared into the crowd at the edge of the dance floor, probably to find some unsuspecting idiot to badger. Calderon grinned as he watched him leave, feeling like a battle had been won, but when he turned to speak to Daianira, she was watching with a cold expression.

“What is this?” Her arms were still crossed over her chest and he only noticed in the light of the lanterns overhead that there was glitter dusted across her collarbone and breasts, sparkling each time she caught the light at the right angle.

His mouth went dry, tongue useless in his mouth as he stared at her, mesmerized by the anger scrunching her nose, her full lips pulled tight, the fire in her turquoise gaze. She was ablaze on that dance floor, pink and gold and glittering. Beautiful and dangerous, a woman whose only fear was losing him to the war they’d fought. She was giving up her life of safety and comfort to make sure her friends, the people she cared for more than any riches in all of Seleota, got their fair chance.

The woman he loved more than anything in the galaxy.

“Who threatened you? Because I know you didn’t come to dance of your own free will.” She glanced into the crowd, looking for Nerissa or perhaps one of his moms. It didn’t matter because she wouldn’t find them. They were too smart for that. “It was N, wasn’t it?”

Calderon sighed with a roll of his eyes, pulling her into his arms before twirling her along with the music. She gasped, but fell in sync quickly, the dance coming as naturally to her as breathing. She clutched at his shoulder, her hand tightening against his almost painfully, but he could handle her rage as long as she’d let him kiss her breathlessly after.

His hand flexed against her waist, feeling ridiculous as he moved around the dance floor, even if it was with her. He could feel eyes on them, burning a hole in the back of his head, and he flushed, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him. Clearing his throat, an uneasiness settling over him, he met Daianira’s turquoise gaze, feeling his heart stutter in his chest at her smile, all hints of anger gone.

“I need to talk to you.”

She tilted her head, face softening as her hand slid from his shoulder to settle against his neck. “I’m not stopping you.”

A sudden, breathless laugh left his mouth. “I meant somewhere that doesn’t include your sister, my moms, our entire crew, and half of Goldis staring at us.”

A sly grin curled her lips. “Why? Is this talk actually code for something else?”

“If you want it to be.” He promised, resting his forehead against hers, the press of her body along his promising a passion that he always happily fell victim to. “But I do want to talk first.”

“I’m listening, Calderon.”

And she was, her attention solely on him, the other dancers and guests only background noise to what went on between them. She squeezed his hand softly, waiting for him to speak.

“So… Ambassador?”

She flinched slightly, such a small thing that he was certain no one else noticed it but him. He shifted closer to her, her chest pressing against his, and he was certain she could feel his heartbeat through his jacket. “Nerissa told you.”

It wasn’t a question, but if it wasn’t public knowledge, very few people knew about it which meant her guess was going to be correct. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Daianira glanced away, biting her lip. After a few moments, she sighed. “You were so happy about being back home, I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

Her selflessness never ceased to amaze him. “Daia-”

“This isn’t my life anymore, Calderon.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze and it hurt to see that even now, she was afraid of failing everyone else. “I was never good at it to begin with.”

Taking her chin between his fingers, he forced her to look at him. “Whatever you choose, I know you’ll be amazing at it.”

Her hand left his neck to rest against his chest above his heart. “Flatterer.”

It didn’t take much more prompting to get her to finally leave the dance floor and wander out into the gardens, the scent of thousands of blooms in the air. The moon lit their path as they walked in silence, Daianira on his arm, heels clicking softly on the pavers. It felt like a fairytale, being outside after the stifling air in the ballroom, with the princess on his arm, but nothing in their lives had been so simple.

They paused near one of the fountains that King Fenris had built for the Lunar Queen, Nikolle. One of Daianira’s favorite places in the palace. Or at least, it used to be. Her arm was still snugly tucked into his, her eyes on the glow of the moon overhead. His gaze was only for her, the golden beauty that somehow broke down the walls that guarded his heart.

She still managed to shock him after all of the time they’d spent together. Even with all of her discussions about removing herself from the line of succession, Calderon never expected her to follow through. Not with how convincing Nerissa was.

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

Daianira leaned her head on his shoulder, hair brushing his neck as she sighed softly, a happy sound. “You are? You don’t think I need to do what’s best for Goldis?”

“The last few months helped you figure out who you are. And who you’re meant to be. Not what other people wanted for you. If that means you aren’t royalty anymore, it doesn’t change what I think of you.”

It didn’t change how he felt.

“And being an ambassador is important. There are so many people out there that need you.”

She was quiet, glancing at the fountain in front of them. The water poured from the sculpture of a mermaid holding a vase, her eyes fixed on them as they stood there in the darkness.

“And what about you?” She turned to face him with worry and something else lingering in her gaze. Something that he’d be able to read even if he didn’t know her so well.

Do you need me?

Entwining his hand with hers, he tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Who is going to keep you out of trouble on Cursa? Damon? We both know he’s the cause of most of it.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” She said, wrinkling her nose in irritation, stubborn to the end. “I thought Nerissa offered you the command of the entire guard.”

Calderon shook his head, this woman driving him insane every day of his life. But, despite how much she might get under his skin, he would still choose her after everything. “I’m not a guard anymore, Daia. I haven’t been in a long time and I can’t go back.” Not after everything he’d been through. “Besides, being an ambassador means you’ll need transportation. Luckily, I know a Captain who will take a stowaway.”

His heart felt like it was in his throat, but he managed a smile. She stared at him, expression clear, and he found for the first time since they met he didn’t know what was going through her mind. And that scared him to death.

What Calderon wasn’t expecting was for her to throw her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss that scorched him down to his soul. His fingers curled into the folds of her dress, getting lost in the feel of her heat against him, her mouth dancing against his, the slide of her tongue between his lips. He drank everything she gave him and he wanted more.

Somehow, Calderon managed to break contact, forehead falling against hers, their breaths intermingling in the space between them. “You’ll be the death of me.”

She laughed, fingers brushing the nape of his neck, sending shivers through his body. “Well, I haven’t felt this alive in a long time.”

A growl rumbled in his chest, something primal, needy and brushed his lips against her neck, feeling her fingers tighten in his hair. “Did you want to test that claim?”

Daianira opened her eyes, blinking briefly before meeting his gaze. “I’ll go wherever you lead, Captain.”

#my writing #andromeda six #a6 #a6 fanfiction #a6 traveler #kitalphan traveler #oc: daianira #calderon lynch #traveler x calderon #daianira x calderon #nerissa peg'asi #damon reznor #ayame ikeda

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vote-gaara · 5 months

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The Sands of Time: Gaara's Story (Chapter 2)

Read Chapter One Here Read on AO3

Chapter Summary: Gaara and his siblings have surprisingly been promoted to chunin after their failed attack on The Leaf Village, but that's hardly a reason to celebrate. Gaara feels listless and sad, not knowing how to reincorporate himself back into the world he tried for years to shut himself out of. Thankfully his sister seems - at least a little - receptive to him, and with the upcoming annual Chunin Party, maybe Gaara can finally become accepted by his village. Meanwhile, the sand siblings' promotion had stirred up conflict in one of Suna's founding tribes. Will this spell trouble for The Sand Village and for Gaara? Will be finally get a friend???? (probably not) Enjoy! Words: 2126

Warnings: Sad Gaara, Rasa mention (cause he SUCKS)

Author's Notes: This took me a long time to publish because I am an idiot (no other reason).THERE ARE NO ORIGINAL CHARACTERS IN THIS CHAPTER.

Chapter Two: Eldest Sister

The morning sun had come over the golden horizon, pushing away the shadows of the night and banishing all the desert’s nocturnal creatures back into their lairs.

Gaara, too, returned to his home upon the sun's arrival, though it wasn’t the fear of the heat that bothered him much. Being born in the desert, he was used to it now - perhaps even built for it. Rather, his retreat inside was to avoid the villagers who were beginning to stir within the streets, chatting happily amongst themselves as they went about their day; a ritual Gaara found he hadn’t much use for, and which the villagers had no use for him, either.

After his defeat in his fight against Uzumaki Naruto, Gaara found himself floating around in a listless limbo. He had seen the strength one could gain in friendship and in the sheer determination to protect others, but the concept still felt foreign and hopeless to him, like a desert mirage that could never really be touched.

With some bitterness, Gaara observed that every day that had passed since he had returned to his village from The Leaf, he had been suffering from a deep, unceasing ache in his heart. Of course, this ache had always been present in his life, but it had been lessened by his radical sense of self preservation: To kill everyone that he deemed similar to himself so that he may feel truly alive. Of course, it may have been a flawed concept, but the hatred kept him buoyant against the waves of the world’s ocean which had been desperately trying to drag him down to the darkness, into the depths, where he could be forgotten about in time.

Now with nothing to cling to, Gaara desperately needed an ally, yet the outside world didn’t change for Gaara. People still avoided him, and he was aware of the hatred in their eyes and in their voices when they were forced to interact with him.

It wasn’t as simple as saying to them, “I’ve changed, please forgive me.” People don’t forgive that easily, and that’s even without the difficult fact that some of the villagers had a personal scorn against Gaara. There were some people in the village who had suffered directly at his hands; perhaps he had injured them or someone they loved, or maybe Gaara was the reason that there would forever be a cold and empty seat at their dinner tables where a loved one used to place themselves.

Even to those who hadn’t suffered from his chaos, there were those who were wary of him out of caution. Rumors spread around the village, seeping into every crevice and home, just like the very sand that coated the land and wherever these grains landed, truth or exacerbated, they were swept up by the villagers and carried around as amulets of protection.

“If I just stay away from him, I’ll be safe!”

It wasn’t fair, but it was just the way things were in that desert, in that space and time and existence that Gaara occupied.

“Perhaps those troubles were for another time”, Gaara decided as he skulked down the vast halls of the estate, heading towards his living quarters so that he could once again take refuge in his room. He needed to think some more, to form a plan and to learn how it would be possible for him to connect to the people of his village.

Gaara turned the corner to see Temari coming down the hallway towards him. Neither of them were surprised to see each other as they had been aware of each other’s presence the entire time. Having the training of a Shinobi offered certain benefits to the five senses. A ninja could keenly interpret their surroundings outside of that of a normal person, and that was even if the ninja wasn’t a sensory type.

“Good morning, Gaara.” Temari greeted him. Her voice was polite and conjuling, with her familiar submissive lilt used specifically towards him.

Neither of Gaara’s siblings had treated him any differently since their return, mostly because Gaara hadn’t seen much of them. Typically both of them avoided him at all costs, but whilst Temari tried her best to appease him when she had to face him, Kankuro usually had the nerve to pick fights and speak his mind, but that was when they crossed paths. Gaara had been strangely excited about the prospects of encountering Kankuro in one of these interactions and to show that he could handle them differently without threatening to kill him, but Kankuro seemed to have had very similar ideas as his younger brother as he, too, had rooted himself in his room and only left for the bare necessities.

Temari passed Gaara without another word, but he had paused to watch her go. “Temari…” He offered quietly, his voice sounded rusty and dull. Temari froze midstep, her entire body ridgid as she slowly turned around to look at him.

“Yes, Gaara?” She asked, still with the politeness and still with the lilt.

“What…” Gaara started, his brain was desperately trying to grasp some form of question for her, or perhaps something of interest to say, and yet he had nothing to offer. His mind was as dry as the vast dunes outside the village. “How…are you?” He asked clumsily, aware that his question lacked any indication of curiosity. Instead, it had some sort of an estimation type quality, like the tone used to caution a guess while answering a difficult question.

“Um…Fine,” Temari cautioned, puzzled by her brother’s uncharacteristic banter. “And you, Gaara?”

“Fine…” He said slowly, unable to look up at his sister.

“Good,” Temari said, “That’s good.”

“Yes…”

The two lingered a moment longer, both itching to remove themselves from the situation but not quite knowing how. It was Temari who spoke first.

“Well, I better be going, I’m training today.”

“Yes,” Gaara agreed, “I understand.” He turned away from her and continued down the hallway, hearing as her steps also picked up. Gaara was just about at the end of the hallway when he heard his sister call out once more.

“Oh and Gaara?” He turned around to look at her, surprised to see a small smile on her face. It wasn’t one that was strained and it didn’t look forced. “If you need to talk, just let me know. I’m open to it anytime.”

With that she turned and strode away, leaving Gaara in utter speechlessness.

***

“The decision of the council is as shortsighted as it is disappointing. I had expected more from you, Joseki.” Tobacco smoke swirled around the dim room. A large, round man was sitting, cross-legged on a thickly padded cushion. His clothes were well-made, crafted with threads from far-off exotic lands, and he donned his tribe’s symbol on a beaded necklace among other trinkets. Bringing his pipe to his mouth, the man took a deep inhale, the orange glow of the tobacco embers lighting his face, of which his features were sullen and unhappy. “You have displeased me, greatly.”

“Lord Kōji, I have done all that you asked of me, but the council’s first priority is to safeguard the village.” Joseki, as old as he was, sat kneeling across from the large man. Though his shoulders were tense, his demeanor was assured. “The majority ruled.”

“The majority of the council flounders and buckles at any conflict that arises. When will the elders understand that all of their quick-fix strategies are what’s corrupting Sunagature?” Kōji growled. “My tribe has sacrificed good men and women, honorable shinobi, to this village and yet still we do not get a say in the affairs the council discusses. The Sand would be nothing without the Tsunzu tribe.”

Joseki allowed his head to bow respectfully in front of the tribe’s leader, but he frowned deeply. “Though Lord Fourth’s children acted irresponsibly during their mission in The Leaf, they are skilled shinobi…” Joseki trailed off, he thought of Gaara and scowled. “Lord Gaara is a concern, but his powers may still benefit the village, and Lord Kankuro and Lady Temari have acted honorably.”

Kōji spat out an incredulous laugh. “I will never see Rasa as Kazekage! His promotion was another ill-conceived scheme. Had Lord Third returned, he would have laughed in Rasa’s face.” Kōji coughed horsley, mumbling under his breath in disgust, “Gold dust…Pathetic.”

“I see there is nothing else for us to discuss,” Joseki concluded, his limbs shaking slightly with strain as he got to his feet. “I have done all you have asked of me. I had advocated on behalf of your concerns, but I must insist that the majority ruled when we elected to promote Lord Fourth’s children.” Joseki turned to leave the room, but stopped when Kōji spoke one more time.

“Those words,” Kōji growled, his eyes glinting like licks of fire, “are a declaration of war.”

“What do you mean?” Joseki demanded, outraged.

“You will see,” Kōji warned, “how Sunagature will thrive without the talents and hardwork of the Tsunzu tribe. Which is more valuable to you: gold dust, or water?”

***

Gaara’s room was dark. He had turned on his lights and climbed into bed to reflect, but he found even in his empty room, the brightness of the overhead light made him feel exposed; and so Gaara now lay with his thoughts in the darkness.

Though it may be like torture to the average person, Gaara was used to spending time laying idle, as sleep was not something he had the luxury of practicing. In this time of stillness, he allowed his eyes to close, his mind to ease and he crept into his own form of sleep - or perhaps meditation would’ve been a more appropriate term.

Suddenly he stirred, bolting upright as a sudden thought drove him to action. Peering at his calendar, he noted the date.

“The first of September.”

It was a date that Gaara knew of, but it had absolutely no meaning to him up until that very moment. It was the date of the annual Chunin Party; a time where newly graduated Chunin got together for the last night of irresponsible fun before becoming more serious in their careers…Or supposedly.

In reality, the annual Chunin Party was more of a popularity contest. The name was simply historical, dating back to the year where a record number of Suna ninja were promoted during the Chunin Exams, and who had decided to celebrate their collective victory with an all-night party. The story went that so many individuals were invited, that every ninja in the village had attended that first year. Now it had become an open event where ninjas of all ranks attended - and even those who weren’t ninjas at all. It was as simple as being invited and showing up for the fun.

Gaara had never gone to any of these parties before and he was suddenly allured by it, like he had been bewitched somehow. It may have been a foolish thought, but he reasoned that if he could just show up to the party, perhaps people could see that he had changed - Perhaps even he could even make a friend!

Though now he was struck by an obvious obstacle: The invitation.

Gaara had never been invited to the Chunin Party, and if he were to be honest with himself, he never really desired one up until that moment, and so just as rapidly as the idea came, it caved in on itself. Gaara reasoned that if he showed up invitation-less, they would simply allow him to waltz in out of fear, but for some reason that felt cheap and empty. If he was meant to go, the reason would be legitimate and intentional.

Sighing, Gaara stepped away from his calendar and glanced miserably around his room. “There’s just no use,” He thought as his eyes landed on his window. He could see now that the sky was beginning to darken as the day came to a close, and with a deep, sad inhale, he left his room to haunt the rapidly emptying streets of his village.

***

In the hallway Gaara encountered Temari again; her clothes dusty from her day of training. She greeted him kindly again, but this time her voice had taken on a more sincere quality than her usual lilt.

“Hello, Gaara.”

Gaara nodded at her, turning away from her almost on muscle memory but then something else took hold of him. “Temari…”

“Yes?” She was still slightly guarded, but her demeanor was more relaxed. The next sentence out of Gaara’s mouth surprised and startled both of them.

“Could I…Come to the party?”

“Oh!” Temari exclaimed, her eyes widening and Gaara could see in them her mind was reeling.

“...Oh!”

#tsot #Gaara #Temari #Kankuro #Naruto #Kazekage #Baki #Sunagature #suna #gaara of the sand #Gaara x oc #naruto fanfiction #plothole fill #patching canon

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the-blackest-spider · 3 months

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This is me right now.

I'm in a state of limbo, sort of. I'm trying to figure out how to live life without having someone who needs 24/7 care as a part of it and not really having anything I need to have an escape from reality wise. It's an odd sort of struggle... I want to write, I still very much have muse and such, I think about the ooc and ic relationships I've cultivated here, more importantly those behind the characters who have been there when I've needed it the most even if they had no idea at the time.

I feel like I'm learning how to live each day all over again, and this is coming from someone who had one hell of a personal brush with death. I'm trying to finally take care of myself and learning how to do that...

Does that mean I'm never coming back here?

Truthfully I don't know...

I wish I did either way, but right now I'm figuring things out, and I don't know how long that is going to take. I wish I did, but it's one of those things that just you can't predict.

Also I have this really strong desire to have most everything fresh and new, as well as smaller and more simplified. I have no plans to remake Nat's blog, if I return to tumblr, it will be here, but I'm wanting something I can take wherever to do that with, so I need to figure that out, and get things (finances) back in order so I can (most importantly I need a new damn mattress, which kind of effects my being here too in a way).

I guess I'm realizing I need time... how much? I don't know and I really can't predict it or even ballpark it. In light of that, I completely 100% don't blame anyone for moving on, don't feel like you have to wait for me, if you do great, but I understand if you can't. I need to brush off Discord and whatnot, tho lately these days I seem to gravitate towards Facebook, which if we've talked a lot, you're more than welcome to ask for even if it's just to use their messenger deal. I'm also always ok Skype, though lately it's been questionable with reliability, but yeah...

I'm just stuck in figuring shit out limbo and wading through A LOT.

I hope everyone is doing good, and I'll make updates when I can, when I know fully what I'm doing besides the necessary basics of adult life aka sleeping, work and all that, with some exercise tossed in, since I am trying to take better care of the whole package here mental and physical, and I hope y'all are taking care of yourselves too as best you can.

#widow ooc: cat speaks #mobile widow #life updates #pinned post

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of-the-stars-and-the-sea · 30 days

Text

Darkness of a Secret World

Hey.

It's been a long time, hasn't it? I'm going to guess you weren't expecting to hear from me. It's a rare day when the dead come back to life, after all.

I let you dig my grave, firefly. Some of it's hard to remember, but even now, I can picture the way you crumbled as you buried me deep into the ground. Your face, tear-stricken. Your hands, nerve-wracked. You can't hide anything from your eyes, you know. Your eyes are like windows. And on that day, I've never seen something more haunted.

To tell you the truth, firefly, I've written this message to you nearly a million times. I've written in my head from limbo. I wrote it aloud to the starless sky as I crossed the desolate landscape. I've traced it over and over onto paper until it disintegrated into scrap. I should’ve said something far sooner than now, but no matter how many times I've tried to put words to how I feel, I haven’t been able to.

I'm not angry, firefly. Maybe I should be. I've tried to be. Despite all our original intent and all of our purposes, you ruined everything that I had. There would be no breath in my lungs if the abyss had not come for me and ripped me from the ground to leave me to the nothingness of freedom. But the simple truth is I'm not. I can't be. Because in the end, firefly, we were both just kids. Kids who ran on fences and believed we could never fall in a way that mattered.

Truthfully, all I really am is sad. I am sad for all you felt forced to sacrifice. Sad for all all we were. For all we could've been if the darkness did not swallow us both. But more than anything, I am sad for those little, scared kids whose innocence was left behind and buried beneath the darkened soil of an unmarked grave.

Do you think that maybe our fall was inevitable? We ran so far that we never gave a thought to what could've been behind us. Maybe that darkness had been chasing us the whole time, and we had just never turned to look behind us. Could we have avoided it, if we had just turned around? I don't know what's worse. If we could've stopped it, or if we were always doomed to let it consume us.

You better be alive out there, wherever you are. Gods curse me, if they really do exist, but after everything I could never forgive you if you weren't. The shovel was in your hands back then, firefly, but I was the one who told you where to dig. You may have been the one to set me aflame, firefly, but it was with my lighter that I was burned alive. The darkness was there for both of us.

This isn't forgiveness. I don't know if it ever could be. But if you see this, firefly, please, come find me. I'll be at the tree we carved our names into, all those years ago. I can climb it now.

~~~

And on that tree I’ll carve your name

‘Cause in years to come we both know we won’t be the same

You asked me to climb, I never learned

But if you ask me for my fire

Just watch me burn.

(Secret Worlds, The Amazing Devil)

#flash fiction #writing #writers on tumblr #angst #this one takes place after the events of secret worlds #they believed nothing could stop them. until it tore them in two #Rain's Ruin Collection #the second entry!!!#writings of a star on the sea

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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ohhhkay I have to take the chance to ask. Steve's pov when he's first able to 'respond' to Eddie's song-bridge /open his eyes? that bit. when he's tracing on Eddie's hand haunts me

re: https://at.tumblr.com/loveinhawkins/oh-i-would-adore-a-steve-pov-from-nothing-but-the/5hycbm5ogw6z

first thoughts on Steve’s pov

oh buckle in!

so in my head, Steve is in this sort of nothingness black void before he truly wakes up. when he later tells Eddie that “wherever I was, it was just—not just dark, but there was… nothing, and I couldn’t feel or see or… and before—before you… I thought oh, this is it, this is all there’s…” that’s his way of saying that he thought that he had died (true) & that this was an afterlife (thankfully not true, but it came close to being so if Eddie didn’t discover his song!) though it was a limbo, of sorts.

& there’s still some of vecna’s influence lingering. Steve’s memory is affected, he keeps losing track of what’s actually happened to him, just knows that it was something awful, which is when Eddie hears his tearful “Oh God. I—I don’t know where I am,” over the walkie.

when Eddie plays the song, gradually Steve’s memory gets stronger & he has more of a sense of “where” he is, that all hope is not lost. & when Eddie plays his song plus there’s some sharing of happy memories going on, like Robin talking about scoops & Eddie’s past realisation when watching Steve and Dustin that “he must really love this kid” … that’s when the real magic happens. that’s when for a little while, steve’s no longer walking through “nothing”, he can “see” the memories unfolding in front of him. that also gives him the strength to think of more happy memories on his own—which is why he prioritises ones that use the senses, like when he describes feeling the itchiness of his Christmas sweater, the weight of Holly as he held her… all reminders that he has a body, a life that he needs to get back to.

whenever Steve’s finger twitches, i was imagining from his pov in the void that he keeps hitting an invisible wall; he knows that he needs to shatter it to escape. & he can feel the hold of it beginning to break when Eddie shares that last memory of him & Dustin. that’s why Eddie feels slow and deliberate taps of Steve’s finger on the back of his hand—steve is desperately hitting the wall, urging Eddie to keep going.

& then steve feels something splinter, almost. sees a crack. sees a glimpse of the hospital room, of Eddie holding his guitar & looking at him. he knows that this is his chance, the “window” Max described when she escaped vecna. he knows it’s now or never.

so he runs. Jumps. It’s maybe the hardest thing he’s ever done. He’s suddenly falling down, down, then he’s back in his body, completely exhausted. but it was all so worth it.

He can see Eddie & the world makes sense again.

with the last of his dwindling strength, he smiles & traces “hi” on the back of Eddie’s hand. He’s overwhelmed by the fact that he can really physically feel things again.

request some “dvd fic commentary”

#loveinhawkins fic commentary

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basen-posting · 3 months

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I don't know where you went, and I don't know where I should even be looking. You aren't at home, and this planet is.. so, so big. I could search for days and not find you. I don't know why things like this keep happening, but.. I just hope you're alright. I really want you to be okay. Wherever you are. I'm scared, to be completely honest. I'm terrified thinking of what could have happened, what might be happening, and how you're probably hurt and I can't help you.. I'm sorry. I just hope you see this and you're okay, Basen. I love you.

[@cotton-posting]

[cotton, i.. i love you too. i love you more than i'll ever be able to express.]

[and i'm not.. i'm not hurt. though i also don't know where i am.]

[cupio, the ghost, says i'm in some kind of "limbo" right now. i imagine that's not a location you can visit.]

[The radio goes silent for a moment.]

[it's.. it's so, so nice to know that you want me to be safe. i'll do my best.]

#basen speaks

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1000-niche-interests · 2 years

Note

I imagine Lin having a bad immune system so sick!Lin and the ship Linumi:D

Hello, anon, and thank you for my ~very first~ request to this blog :) I appreciate you!! I haven't actually written anything for Lin in about a year so I can't promise this is *entirely* perfectly in character but I hope you like it! Thanks again for your request! Fic under the cut.

Since retiring from the United Forces, Bumi took every opportunity to sleep in. Juvenile, as Tenzin often told him, but Bumi had never been much of a morning person. A trait that had only exacerbated during his airbending training; then, he slept in just to annoy Tenzin or to avoid more of his boring speeches about gurus he’d almost certainly already learned at some point in his childhood.

(Okay, maybe he couldn’t recall all of them, but still.)

Lin, on the other hand, stuck to a strict schedule. She always had, ever since they were kids; once they’d finally moved in together, he wasn’t the least bit surprised that had continued.

The trend lately did concern him, though, just a little. While Lin had always been an early riser, most times than not in the past week he’d awoken in the small hours of the morning to her heading out the door.

He understood it, he did; rebuilding the police force and keeping the peace after Kuvira’s attack had demolished half the city was no easy feat.

The difference between them, though, was that Lin seemed to believe that if she wasn’t there, the city would implode. Bumi believed that pretty much everything could wait until at least nine am.

He’d considered broaching the subject, tell her to sleep in and slow down if she could, but she was always so tired after coming home from the station, or what currently passed as a temporary headquarters, he found himself biting his tongue. Which didn’t happen often, even where Lin was concerned.

But if he knew her, and he did, this could only go on so long before she inevitably crashed.

Which was why, waking this morning with the sun shining high though the windowpane, Bumi wasn’t overly surprised to find Lin still beside him. Nor could he find it in him to be surprised at the veritable heat radiating off her through the sheets she was curled up in. He sighed to the quiet room, and got out of bed as silently as he could. Lin’s health was one of the few things in life that couldn’t wait, for good reason.

No reason to wake her yet, he decided as he made his way to the kitchen. As he put the kettle on to boil for tea, he set about digging up whatever medicine was stashed in the back cabinets. This being Lin’s place through and through, everything was in a limbo of organized disorganization. She organized what she thought was important-- papers, clothes, old photos-- but the afterthoughts… things like medicine, in this case… were more often than not stuck wherever she found space for them. The tea, at least, was tucked away in its own cabinet, but other than a half-full, potentially expired bottle of cough syrup, Bumi hadn’t found much.

“Dammit Lin, how do you live like this?” He whispered to no one, entirely ignoring that his room on Air Temple Island was much less organized (and just how he liked it). It wasn’t even his lack of progress that bothered him, but the fact that he couldn’t believe a woman as prone to accidents and illness as Lin had almost nothing by the way of medication in her house.

“Bumi, why are you tearing up the kitchen?” He heard Lin’s voice from behind him, and barely stopped himself from jumping. He’d have sensed her coming had he not been so focused on the search at hand. Probably.

“Looking for drugs.” He said as he turned to face her, hoping it might cheer her up a bit. It did not, if her frown was any indication. She crossed her arms, and he held up his in surrender. “No, really. Where’s your, uh… anything? This place have stuff for fevers, at least?” If the flush high on Lin’s cheeks was any indication, she could definitely use it right now.

Lin shrugged, very noncommittal, and Bumi’s eyes narrowed. He knew Lin’s mannerisms to a t, and that one definitely meant the answer was no.

He opened his mouth to speak, ask what she was using as medication, then, but the sharp whistle of the kettle cut him off. Lin winced, a hand going up to her temple. The kettle was quickly silenced, at least, and soon he had a cup of hot water ready to go.

“So, what kind of tea do you want?” He asked, turning back to see Lin at the table, watching him with half-open, slightly glassy eyes. He knew she was exhausted and why she didn’t just go back to bed and wait for him was a question he doubted would ever be answered.

“White peony.” She answered after a moment, crossing her arms again; though he noticed that this time, she’d begun to shiver. In the cabinet he found the tin of white tea leaves, thankfully in tea bags and not loose. He could work with infusers of course, but he had a sneaking suspicion Lin didn’t own one. Because of course she wouldn't.

He left the tea in the water to steep, then set it in front of her. She spared him barely a glance as he ducked into the other room and retrieved his coat, before returning and placing it over her bare shoulders. She tensed, then relaxed, melting back into the red folds of his coat like it was the best thing in the world. Bumi couldn’t help but chuckle at that, remembering that as grumpy as Lin was known to get when she was sick, with a fever she got rather docile, too.

As the tea seeped, Lin watched, no longer quivering as badly within her makeshift blanket. When it was to her liking, she plucked the tea bag out, setting it aside. Bumi sat down across from her, half wishing he’d brewed some tea of his own just to seem less of a mother hen. But Lin’s stock almost depleted as it was, he’d skip it this time.

“So,” He began as she wrapped her hands around the cup, obviously trying to warm them. “You’re not going to work today, right?”

He’d had to broach the subject eventually; she hadn’t mentioned it explicitly which was usually a good sign, but he still had to check.

He was relieved when she slowly shook her head in affirmation, though he could tell it wasn’t an easy decision. It never was, with her.

“I should,” She began, with a heavy sigh. “But I feel like shit.”

“Hey,” He said, putting a hand on her’s, not needing to mention the tremor in her voice to know how she felt about it. “This city can survive a couple days without you, you know that.”

Lin merely huffed, more disapproval then dissent. “I know. I just don’t like it.”

“I know.” Bumi said, squeezing her hand with a smile that only grew as she squeezed back, their time-honored signal. “But, you got me to take care of you! You’ll be back on your feet before you know it.” That got an actual smile out of her, if a tired one.

When she’d finished her tea, he followed her back to the bedroom, where, without prompting, she curled up, his coat still wrapped around her. He raised an eyebrow, for a moment not sure whether he should be amused or concerned, before remembering that if he really wanted to get her even slightly less miserable, he’d need to go out and buy some medicine.

It being early autumn now, he might’ve appreciated having his coat… but decided it was probably better served in Lin’s care.

“Well, if you don’t have any medication here,” He began, pulling in his shoes alongside something slightly more presentable to go out in. “I’ll make a run to the pharmacy.”

Lim grumbled something unintelligible from the bed, probably voicing her disapproval, which Bumi chose to ignore.

“Hey, you’re wrapped up in my coat and a blanket,” He called back, the keys for the satomobile now securely in his pocket. “You need something for the fever, at least… you’re too quiet, I’m not used to it.” He joked lightly, only to be met with a definite, "fuck you", from Lin’s linen cocoon.

There was the Lin he knew, he thought with a smile. A good sign.

Now, to get some medicine for her… and maybe he’d even pick up something nice for her on the way back home.

Before he left, though, he glanced back to the bedroom door, closed now.

Lin Beifong could be many things on bad days, from cranky to seething in her anger, to almost docile like this-- but it was these days, too, that he remembered so very clearly why he loved her. Because she was many things, but she was always so quintessentially Lin, every time… and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#my fics #Lin Beifong #Linumi #sickfic

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jonahmagnus · 2 years

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I'm probably late but if you don't mind me asking, what are slyrkins?

I am NOT LETTING THIS ASK SIT IN LIMBO FOREVER LIKE THE OTHER ONES ASKJWSLSNASANMSNS

Slyrkins! Slyrkin’s are my alien speices that I started creating when I was what. 13? And I have SOO SO MUCH FUCKING LORE FOR THEM but here’s a “brief” overview!

Evolution: Slyrkin’s are an extremely tough species of bipedal lizards whom due to living and evolving on an extremely poisonous planet, have many self defense mechanisms. They evolved to be bipedal by reaching for low-hanging fruits, which used to be their primary source of food. The lizard they evolved from was large, slow moving, and egg-lying pack animal that was poisonous down to the bone. They evolved out of having genitalia because the egg development period used to take around seven years and the hatching was 2, which caused them to be a very small speices. Around their habitat at the lowest point of population in their speices, certain type of plant sprung up. A pod plant that could create a clone in a short period of time- But the catch was that the children where extremely prone to mutation via stray dna, and that they where born with no genitalia.

Mizans: Mizans are a small, two-legged, hyper-intelligent mouse-like sister speices to Slyrkins who evolved alongside them, due to them seeking refuge in the company of the large, herbivorous, gentle speices. Unlike Slyrkin’s, they are naturally solitary but choose to be stick around due to the society they offer and the protection as well. Slyrkin’s have no language, and communicate through clicks and purrs. The rune language you see them write in is actually Mizan!

General information: Mutations in Slyrkin’s are considered highly beautiful. Some common mutations include multiple spines, double eyelids, eyes on the chest (there is a clump of nerves similar to a second brain there), additional eyes on the face, discoloration, plumes, hollow bones, discolored hair quills, a second smaller tail, doubled forearms, and a whistling sound when inhaling. Children are born in pods in the captial and raised by the whole city/town/wherever they end up. The Slyrkin life cycle is childhood 34 years -> Emotional maturity -> ‘Teenager’ (64 years) -> Adulthood (almost infinite/Infine unless killed) (hight-dependent). Slyrkin’s can range from 6ft to 13/14 ft, with shorter being most common and 13/14 ft being only royalty. The city is divided via hight, not because their unequal but out of convenience. All Slyrkin’s use ker/kem unless stated otherwise. All children are made in cloning pods and kept in a damp space until infancy is over.

Society: Slyrkin’s experience no romantic attraction, though they do from families and have ceremonies indicating devotion. Slyrkin’s have many ceremonies through their life, with festivals and holidays just adding to the festivities. The average, non-royal Slyrkin will have 7 ceremonies in their childhood, 9 in their teenage years, and 7 as adults (not counting “great achievement” ceremonies). Slyrkin’s are all equal, and the concept of “poverty” does not exist as all Slyrkin’s inherently care for eachother and if somebody cannot take care of themselves, everybody else will chip in. The exception to this is the “Royalty”, the tallest ones. The 2 *invader z/im’ voice* tallest Are the quote unquote ‘alphas’ of the speices, making sure everyone’s like, ok and everything. Slyrkin’s instinctively follow the larges of the speices, a habit left over from their quadrupedal times, and in turn the largest Slyrkin’s instinctively becomes the ‘mother’ of all their followers. The darker the skin, the taller the Slyrkin. Slug baby will probably grow up to 11/12 ft? So it’s considered a ‘princess’. (The literal word is ‘someone who was giving life and thus will give life in return’ which to us is a feminine connotation, but Slyrkins don’t know what gender is.)

And there’s a lot more, but I’ll stop for now tehe!

#Long post #Asks #beloved mutuals #Ouuugh I should get into Slyrkin fashion next 💕💕💙#SORRY IF THIS IS CONFUSING IDK HOW TO FORMAT THIS 🤷‍♂️ 🤷‍♀️

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antlersacornsandallium · 1 year

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Spring is an odd season for me. I love it - I'm a gardener, so this is the season where the waiting is over and the excitement begins. Spring is exciting!

I live in the southeast US, so my seasons are... Slightly different from the traditional wisdom. The suggestions to start your seedlings and garden plans now are about 6 weeks too late for me, and the suggestions to reflect on the first flowers of spring are useless when the trees have already shed their flowers for leaves.

It is, however, still cold. There will be more overnight freezes that mean I cannot put out the more tender plants to grow in the blessed sunlight.

It's a season in limbo; too cold to commit fully to growing, but the sun is right there, teasing, promising a warm spring. And a brutal summer.

Spring is lovely and a relief from the cold of winter. Spring is also the slow turn of summer around the corner with its brutal blistering heat and bugs that bite and sting. Spring itself is thick clouds of pollen and the first mosquito bites and bees and wasps waking up cranky and hungry.

I think it's important to remember, as pagans when we reflect on the seasons, that not everything is sunshine and peace. Spring is a sigh of relief, but it's also picking the tools back up and getting to work again. Spring is hard. All the seasons are, in their own ways, but spring is not all baby lambs and daffodils.

I've been struggling lately with my mental health. I have anxiety and what is probably PTSD and a smattering of OCD on top of it. For the most part, it doesn't stop my life. It's manageable. But these last few months it has been deeply unpleasant and has started impacting things I love. I don't have as much spirituality as I want to, and my explorations have ceased as I turn my limited energy inward just to maintain a basic level of stability and function.

Freyja has been tremendously helpful. It's only small things - I don't tend to actively speak with the gods or even ask for favors - but the small things have made an impact. In low moments, I am kinder to myself. There is a soothing voice reminding me that I do in fact need to eat healthy foods, and drink water sometimes, and wouldn't I feel better if I took a shower?

All this to say: spring is an odd limbo season for me. It's the energy of potential that hasn't yet found an outlet to fully unfurl. I'm in an inbetween state myself, caught between the place of safety and the place of growth with the pinching pain of being caught.

Be kind to yourselves this season. Find joy wherever you can, even if it is the small things. Let Freyr's warm touch thaw you as it thaws the soil, and let Freyja's kind words feed your spirit.

#norse paganism #freyr #paganism #pagan #freyja #spring

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cruelsxmmcr · 1 year

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♡ beach hut prompt 09: dylan michaels

what are you most looking forward to about reuniting with the other villa? what are you dreading the most?

“I can’t wait to see Callie and Romi and give them the biggest hug in the world. I miss them heaps. Honestly, I miss Naomi, too. That makes me a fucking idiot, doesn’t it? I’m dreading having to talk to her. I’ve been in a limbo stage for days because I’ve been unable to air it out with her, all the while trying to ignore it to focus on the present. Now that the time has come... yeah, I’m dreading it. It’s driving me a little insane actually. Who even knows what’ll happen anymore?”

if you were to stick, why would you? why would you consider switching?

“If I were to stick it’d be because my feelings for Naomi are still very much there and I can’t ignore them. This whole situation has so many ifs and questions that I don’t have the answers to till I talk to her, too and I’d wanna give us a chance to talk things through and figure it out properly. But at the same time, I’d consider switching because of these ifs and questions. I can’t ignore that Josh is there, too, like an annoying fly that just won’t stop buzzing, and that Naomi clearly still has feels for him and is probably taking me for granted after everything. She might even come back with someone. We all know she’s the center of attention wherever she goes. I don’t know, mate... it really can go either way.”

is there a bombshell that’s at the top of you ‘list’? who would you bring back?

“I mean, I don’t have a list anymore. It’s what yesterday was all about for me, wanting to figure out where my head was at with the girls I have been getting to know. I didn’t want to keep prolonging this, but at the same time, I wanted to give myself and them a fair shot at seeing if we can go anywhere. Having said that, if I were to bring anyone back, it’d be Adela. She’s really fun, cute and easy going, our conversations flow so well. I wish I had a little more time with her, honestly.”

if none of the bombshells could come back, who would you miss most?

“Uh, I’d miss them all honestly. They’re a great group of people. We got lucky. Adela, Mali, and Phoebe are great. I know yesterday I had to have a difficult conversation with Phoebe, particularly, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m glad to have met her and gotten to know her... even though things didn’t go the way she might’ve hoped. I gave us both a fair shot and I had to go with my heart, you know? I wasn’t dishonest about anything from the get go.” A pause. “I’d miss Miles, too, he’s a really good bloke. I’m glad to have met him, even if he’s grafting my sister’s partner.” Tone is playful here.

what conversations do you need to have most when you reunite?

“Come on, mate, you already know. Obviously, the impending conversation with Naomi is at the top of my list. The sooner we talk, the better, of course to see where we’re going with this and air it all out. I’ve been waiting too long already. I’ve managed to distract myself for a good while here, but when I’m in my own head about this, it gets a little too much.”

what are you feeling about the decisions of the other islanders? who do you think has made the best connection?

“It’s been a crazy few days, huh?” He chuckles, but it’s not totally humorous. “I hate to say it, but Frankie and Miles seem to have developed something there. I’m betting everything she’s bringing him back. I feel so awful for Callie because I know how into Frankie she was... I just hope she cracked on during that time and met someone, too.” A pause. “Marcus and Val seem to have something good going since the first day at casa amor, but I don’t know if he’s battling his own thoughts when it comes to Romi, like I am with Naomi. It’s tricky. Josh fucking Mali on day one hours after he told me with his whole chest he wants to be good for Naomi is honestly the joke of the season. This is the guy Naomi still has feels for and wants to give another chance?” He rolls his eyes, scoffing. “Let’s see how he’ll get away with it this time.” Probably by downplaying, lying, and gaslighting, but Dylan doesn’t want to say it out loud.

#｟ 𝐃𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐒 ｠ ⸻ task.#crackon:prompt #thanks kel for another graphic x

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bloodysimpsonchibi · 2 years

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Farewell to the Flesh: A Hellraiser/Candyman One-Shot

A request for @zoe-puryear. Not really used to writing on this site. (Kinda gave up on my Horror List) But here we go.

Word Count: 3,320

Genre: Horror

Please enjoy.

When Daniel Robitaille, or as he was known now in days, the Candyman, witnessed the final painting from his human life burned to ashes by his descendent Caroline and found himself in flames as well, he wasn't worried in the slightest. With his lover's mirror destroyed, that painting was the last physical connection he had to this world and yet he remained calm. Even without these objects, he still had one thing he could count on to keep him alive.

His legend. The harrowing tale of his life and death at the hands of madmen. The ghost story that filled the hearts of the men and women of Cabrini-Green with fear. The myth that became all too real for those that dared to sway the true believers. That legend would ensure that the Candyman would return to the mortal realm soon enough, ready to shed some more innocent blood in order to strengthened its power.

But as for right now, that would have to wait. The Candyman was currently wandering down the corridors of a strange and desolate place he had never been before. What it was, he did not know, but somehow, someway, he could tell he was not on Earth.

"Perhaps this is purgatory." He theorized. "A limbo for my soul to wander before my congregation beckons me back to the world of the living."

As he walked on, every now and then, he would pass by a hooked chain. The chains seemed to dangle from an impossibly high ceiling that he could not see no matter how hard he looked up. Most of them were clean but there were a few with pieces of bleeding flesh and skin skewered on them. Every so often, Candyman would hear the distant sound of screaming. Having become quite used to the sound of screaming as well as blood and gore, the Candyman didn't feel the least bit afraid of his new dwelling. If anything, he only felt annyonce.

"How long will it take before someone calls my name and frees me?" He asked himself out loud. It was then that another voice answered. from behind, it's sound all so very close to his own.

"It matters not who call upon your name, where they call upon it, or how many times they call upon it." Candyman turned around and saw a figure slowly approaching him from the darkness. "The fact that you are here means they will never be answered.

As the figure came closer to him, Candyman was able to take in his strange appearance. The being, a male by the looks of it, wore a black cassock with openings that left his stomach and several places of his chest exposed. The latter was harder to notice on account of the strips of flesh hooked over the wounds underneath the places on the chest they were supposed to be. The red squares Candyman thought were part of the cassock at first were actually the man's exposed tissue.

What really caught the Candyman's attention, however, were the pins adorning the man's entire head, each one nailed into the intersection of a grid-shaped pattern on his face. They were deep enough to be digging into his skull and yet the man seemed completely unfazed by this. If he felt even the slightest bit of pain, he was hiding it very well.

"Who are you?" Candyman asked. "No, what are you?"

"An explorer in the outer reaches of experience. A demon to some and an angel to others." The man's face darkened. "For you, however, I am simply your jailer."

"Jailer?" Candyman repeated with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Are you saying you intend to keep me here? Wherever here might be?"

"Here has many names." The pinned being answered. "The Labyrinth. The Realm of Leviathan. I believe you humans mostly refer to it as Hell."

Candyman's eyes widened as that last word rang in his head. "Hell." He thought. "Did he say Hell? Is this place....really Hell? No. It can't be. Where are the flames? Where are the devils?"

"Confused?" The being asked as if he could read the Candyman's thoughts. "Most humans are the first time around. It's understandable. They live their entire lives under the delusion of a Christian Hell full of demons and fire." The being chuckled slightly to himself. "Such a limited imagination. "

For the first time in decades, Candy felt a twinge of what once might call fear in his heart. He noticed it and quickly swallowed it. There was no need for a being like him to be afraid. The very idea was laughable. "So tell me," He spoke again. "Is this not a place of torment then?"

To the Candyman's surprise, the pinned being burst into a fit of laughter. "Such impudence. What you call torment is only but a shadow. A single piece of a vast endless puzzle." The being turned his attention toward a hooked chain hanging to his left and softly caressed it. His fingers reddened with the gore covering the chain and once his hand had reached the jagged hook at the end, he slowly but intentionally pushed his palm into it. Blood flowed from his palm as he gently pulled it away, the hook keeping a piece of his skin and flesh to itself as the chain slightly swayed.

The pinned being looked back up at the Candyman and held up his injured hand, an expression of pleasure on his face as opposed to agony. "This will be your new reality." He cooed. "You will be as you humans call tormented, yes, but in time you will learn to love the pain. To cherish it." He put his hand back down. "To worship it."

Candyman felt anger well up inside of him and brandished his hook. "I don't know who you are or what you plan to do but I am the one who is worshipped. Not the other way around. Be my victim!"

The pinned being replied to Candyman's declaration of war with yet another amused chuckle as he spread his arms. "Ah. Good. A fight." The being casually moved his head toward the Candyman and the hooked chain he had just practically degloved himself on not but a moment ago came to life, lunging toward the Candyman at a speed which would have been impossible for a normal human souls to dodge.

But Daniel Robitaille was no longer a normal human soul.

The Candyman teleported out of the chain's path and reappeared behind the pinned being. He wedged the tip of his hook into the being's back, expecting to hear a cry of pain. The most he was able to get out of the being, however, was a low groan. Candyman lifted him off the ground and let him slide a little deeper into the curve of the hook. He brought his lips to the being's ear and whispered. "Now do you see why they fear my legend? Speak my name in hushed whispers in the dead of night? It is because of my power!" With that final shout, Candyman slammed the pinned being against the wall with enough force to break through.

The being fell on the other side, the pins on the right side of his face either bending against the floor or drilling deeper into his skull with no in-between. Candyman watched with amusement as the being picked himself off the floor, a single pin falling out of his face. Whatever pain the being must have been in before was surely doubled several times over now and Candyman smiled as the being looked up at him, expecting to see a face of agony. His smile and amusement vanished when instead, the being laughed even harder than before.

"How divine!" The being said as he traced his fingertips over the gaping hole where his missing pin once rested and licked up the resulting blood with just the smallest hint of arousal in his eyes. "This pain is simply exquisite. It would seem you are adapting quite well to our ways." The being snapped his fingers and more hooked chains flew toward the Candyman. With his powers of teleportation, he was able to dodge most of the chains, but not all. Two chains hooked themselves into his legs and one into his back. He screamed out in pain as the chains held him into place, somehow keeping him from teleporting.

"But there's still so much to learn." The pinned being walked over the portion of wall still standing and stood before the bound Candyman, blood sporting a rather bloody grin. "Do not fear. I will teach you."

"Be my victim!" Candyman shouted again as an entire swarm of bees suddenly burst out of the empty cavity that was once his chest. The swarm engulfed the pinned being at once, stabbing his flesh repeatedly with their tiny stingers.

Caught off guard by the sudden emergence of these insects flying insects, the pinned being stepped back from Candyman as he tried in vain to swat them away. This gave Candyman enough time to use his hook to wrench out the chains binding him. Once he was freed, he called his bees back and the swarm, already having brought their target down, surrounded their master.

Candyman stepped up to the wounded man before him, taking in the sight of the swelling flesh all over his body. His left eye, having been pierced by the bee's stingers, was oozing its innards down the his cheek. The Candyman smiled to see such gore and asked him "How's that for pain?"

Once again, his elation in the suffering of his enemy was dispersed when the being smiled in response. "As I said, you have much to learn of the ways of agony!"

Growing impatient of this display, Candyman dropped his composure and charged at the man, intending to run his hook through his stomach. Just as he was about to fulfill this wish of his, however, the pinned being vanished from the hook's path and reappeared behind the Candyman. The Candyman was quick to notice what had happened and turned to face his enemy, bewildered.

"Surprised?" The pinned being asked. "You are not the only being with the gift of teleportation. No. Not at all." The being suddenly held a hand out to the Candyman, the same bloody hand he had ripped open on his own chain not too long ago. "Now it's time for your first lesson in pain. Lesson 1: Not all pain is physical."

"Wha-" Was all the Candyman was able to utter before the space between him and the pinned being exploded, sending him flying several feet backward through countless walls. His swarm had been blown apart by the blast as well and after what seemed like an eternity of crashing through walls, the Candyman finally landed on solid ground.

He tried to open his eyes, but the Sun's rays forced them to close back up. Wait.....the Sun? Candyman held his remaining hand over his eyes and reopened them slowly. From behind his brown fingers, he could see sunlight outlining the shape of his hand. Once his eyes had adjusted to the sudden brightness, he got to his feet and surveyed his new bearings.

He was in a field of some kind. He could make out rolling hills at the far end and to his left a tree. The sky, while bright, gave off the impression of either early morning or late evening, which was the case he couldn't be sure nor could he put his finger on why this place seemed so familiar.

"Where am I?" Candyman asked himself. He looked around again and again but could not so much as a trace of the pinned being or the hellish dimension he was trapped not but a minute ago. He smiled as the thought that he had somehow escaped Hell crossed his mind. "It would seem I have escaped my would-by jailer after all." He laughed. "I'm back on Earth and now it's time to begin my legend anew. Now I just need to find out where exactly am I."

It was then that Candyman heard the sound of shouting and screaming from under the hill he was on. He looked down to see a mob of white folk running after a black man with torches and pitchforks. His eyes narrowed at the disgusting display but widened once he realized who that black man was.

It was him. The man running from the mob was none other than Daniel Robitaille himself.

With his heart growing heavier with fear by the second, Candyman realized with horror that what he was looking at was in fact his own day of reckoning. The day he lost everything. His love. His child. His life.

"No.....No!" He shouted as he rushed after the mob. By the time he reached them, they had already stripped his counterpart and were preparing to saw off his right hand, the hand that he used to paint Caroline the night they consummated their love.

"No!" With a mighty lunge, Candyman thrust his hook into the man sawing off his counterpart's hand., hoping to fling him in the air like a ragdoll. But instead, the hook which had taken so many lives simply went through the man. The man took no notice and completed his gruesome task, laughing with glee as Daniel's hand fell helplessly to the ground, never to hold a paintbrush again.

"What is happening!?" Candyman tried to impale Caroline's father but the same thing happened. He tried to gut the boy who would give him his nickname and the woman who provided the honey they were about the slather Daniel with. No matter what he did, he could not cut anyone in the mob. No one even seemed to notice his presence as they went about slathering Daniel in honey while chanting "Candyman! Candyman! Candyman! Candyman! Candyman!"

"Nooo!" Candyman wailed. "This cannot be! How could this be happening!?" Candyman's cries were drowned out by the buzzing of a thousand bees flying toward the group. Terrified, if only for a moment, the mob made way for the insects whose souls would eventually be bound to Candyman forever and watched as they swarmed over their future master. He was stung all over his body repeatedly, crying out for help that would never come. As if he realized this, Daniel stopped screaming and allowed the bees to finish. Once they had consumed or gathered all of the honey on his body, the swarm flew back into the sky, the black cloud of death having not shrunk but an inch even as it left all its dead and dying behind.

"What has that bastard done to me?" Candyman thought. "It must be his doing! There's no other explanation!" Candyman's thoughts were interrupted again, this time by the familiar voice of his beloved as she came running down the hill and toward his counterpart. He watched in horror and sadness and she tried to reach out for her lover only to be held back by the mob.

"Caroline." He uttered.

"No! No!" Caroline screamed as her father approached the dying and disgraced Daniel with a mirror.

"You'll all be damned!" Daniel cried in agony.

"You defiled my daughter!" The man replied as he gripped Daniel's chin and forced him to face the mirror. "Could she even look at you now!?"

Daniel examined his stinger-filled face for a moment before turning back to Caroline one last time, uttering "Candyman." and passing on.

"No! Nooo!" Caroline screamed as she broke out of the men's grip, grabbed the mirror from her father's hands, and ran away from the mob, weeping all the while. Candyman, equally horrified and saddened at being forced to witness his own death, followed her.

Caroline stopped once she was several feet away from the mob and looked back down at the mirror. The reflection of her now deceased lover flickered like a light before vanishing forever. Crying, she held the mirror close and called out his name. "Daniel! Daniel!"

"I'm here Caroline!" Candyman cried out, tears streaming down his own cheeks. "I am here!"

Caroline didn't hear him. Instead, she continued to weep into the sky.

"Please hear me Caroline! I'm here!" Candyman tried to embrace her, only to pass right through her. He tried again and again but each result was the same. No matter how badly he wanted to, he could not comfort his beloved and upon realizing this, he joined her in crying out into the sky. "Whhhhhhhyyyyy!"

"Because it is Hell's way." The voice of the pinned being spoke. Candyman veered around to see himself, Daniel Robitiallie, covered in bee stings and bleeding from the stump where his right hand, his painting hand, once rested. Through his swollen bloodied lips, the being's voice spoke. "I told you not all pain is physical. One might even say it is the wounds of our souls that cause the most agony."

"Bastard!" Candyman roared as he lunged at the being speaking through his body. He was not able to come within a single foot of the being before a dozen hooked chains suddenly ensnared themselves to his flesh. He screamed in agony as the chains suspended him in the air. He tried to rip them off with his hook, only to find that his hooked arm was also suspended. He was trapped and helpless.

"It was this very agony of the soul that made you what you are. That forged your legend." The being spoke again, Daniel's already broken flesh melting off of his body to reveal his true form. The Sun overhead fell victim to an eclipse that blanketed the land with shadows and from these shadows emerged the corridors and chains where Candyman's journey into damnation had begun. From the corner of his eye, Candyman was able to see "Caroline" shed her fair skin as well, the being that emerged was still female as far as he could tell but she looked a lot more like the pinned being, bald with a giant wound in her throat. "But now the legend has died and your soul has nowhere else to go but with us."

"What are you talking about?" Candyman grunted. The pinned being approached him, pulled the pin from the very top of his scalp, and presented it to the Candyman. "See for yourself." With this, he slowly pushed the pin into Candyman's forehead, causing him to see visions.

Visions of his decedent Caroline blaming all of his murders, all of his bloodshed, on a man named Samuel Decon Kraft. Visions of the news outlets riding with this lie and letting the whole world in on the facade. He watched the whispers in the classrooms grow silent, the writing on the walls wash away, and his followers move on with their lives. He watched in horror as his legend slowly withered and died.

"Noooooo!" Was all the Candyman could scream as the two mutilated beings watched on with indifference. "Do not mourn your fate." The female cooed. "You have simply traded in your old existence for a new one. One that in time you will come to love as we all have."

"Indeed." The male agreed. "We have such sights to show you. But first, you must look the part." With that the male lifted up his hand with his fingers ready to snap.

"Welcome to the family Daniel." The female whispered as the Candyman continued to scream. "Welcome home."

At the snap of the fingers, the chains flew apart.

#hellraiser #candyman #crossover #pinhead #daniel robitaille #horror movies #fanfic #request

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