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hauntedwitch04 · 6 months

Text

Just a Mirror

Sam Winchester x plus size!Reader

Words: about 6.3k words

Warning: saddy sadness, and some allusion to sexy time, eating disorder, hating on your own person, please be careful if you sensible about this themes

REQUEST: Hi :) I saw that your requests are open, and I was wondering if you could do a Sam Winchester x plus sized reader; an angsty fluffy friends to lovers that has some smut and reader hating herself in the mirror and possibly problems with eating

Author’s note: Hi love! Thank you @desicroft02 so much for your request. I felt really inspired by your idea love and I hope you like how it came out, if you don't find yourself with what i wrote, feel free to say it to me and I'll write to you a new one !

p.s.I got very caught up in the topic, since it is something I feel very close to. I was never the skinny girl, but with the years I've grown used to feel different to others girls, and even if sometimes I really hate what I see in the mirror, I kinda arrived to the point that I see both the flaws and the strenghts of my body and I love both, but some of my closest friend and this kinda of disorder and I tried to help them the way aI could so this one is for them too.

In case you need someone to talk to, I am always here, don't be afraid to seek help because often having someone close by to remind you that the volume of that evil voice we hear inside can be lowered or eliminated is important.

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Why?

This is the only question that floats in your mind, while, with thick tears in your eyes, you try to read the enormous book about whatever monster you are hunting with your friends in this little city, forgotten by God.

You and your childhood best friends are hunting some monster that you still haven't been able to figure out what it is, despite the fact that you are reading yet another list of monstrous animals in the story, while Dean and Sam are still out at the bar where you had decided to spend the evening, and from which you had decided to escape as quickly as possible, without giving any kind of explanation to the two hunters, holding back tears and trying not to meet their confused gaze

You and the boys have been friends since you were six and they were seven and eleven. You met on a rainy October day when you were still living at Bobby's house, after your father had died in a hunting accident after leaving you with him, and being his friend and seeing him almost as a brother he couldn't help but welcome you and raise you as if you were his own daughter.

Dean and Sam had just been left in the rain on the narrow dirt road by their father when you looked out and saw these two cold, sad, and at the same time angry children. You could see the resentment they felt for the man who looked less and less like a father and more and more like an army general, ready to train soldiers and not raise children. Immediately you went to Bobby and told him of the presence of those two unknown children who were in your driveway. He had immediately run to get them and brought them inside the house, worried that they would get sick from standing in the rain, and wondering why their father had left them there, without saying anything.

"He said he didn't have time to explain and that he had to get there as fast as he could, but that he would call you this evening." Said the older of the two once they were seated on the couch in what must once have been a beautiful dining room, and was now more like an ever-growing mountain of books. It is to your adoptive father that you owe all the culture and ability to read texts on the supernatural that most hunters would not even know how to open.

As he spoke you could see the blond child trying to hold back the sadness within himself and show himself as a big boy, almost pretending to understand why his father abandoned them like that without saying a word; in contrast, the one who was supposed to be the smaller of the two, with unruly brown hair, looked more like a beaten puppy, as he wetly moved his feet lazily on the floor, listening to what his brother had to say, but not hiding his sadness and anger at his daddy's decision.

"Baby, couldn't you get Sammy a glass of water for him while Dean and I go make a call for a minute?" Bobby then asked you suddenly, and you realized that you were lost in thought as you watched and studied those boys. You nodded quickly, trying not to let it show that you had spent all that time staring at them, as you heard Bobby's voice and that of the blond boy, apparently named Dean, drift away, only to hear the front door open and close.

After a few minutes you returned to the living room with a glass in your hand, and walked over to the brown-eyed boy, who was now looking at you and smiling shyly. You handed him the glass with a beaming smile, and he could do nothing but blush a little and retract his body a little, letting shyness take possession of him as he took the glass.

"Thank you." He told you in a faint voice.

"You're welcome." You replied as you sat next to him on the sofa.

"My name is Sam." He said, only to freeze and blush again as he held out a hand for you to shake, just as grown-ups do. You told him your name, and he commented that it was a very nice name, and that he liked it a lot, before going back to being silent and staring into the sad void.

You not being able to see what you considered a new friend feel so bad, you shamelessly asked him why his father had left him there and if that was why he was sad. He turned to look at you, and unknown how, he burst into tears, while with his hands he covered his face, not wanting to be seen as weak with someone he had just met, but you didn't give a damn.

Immediately you hugged him and listened to him talk about how his father was behaving with them, how his brother was struggling more and more to hide that he was tired of his parent's behavior, and how he was lonely and sad, constantly changing towns and seeing nothing but his family. That poor seven-year-old seemed to be thirty years old because of the problems he was telling you about, and as much as you were even younger because you were only six, you felt like you could understand him, because for a while that had also been your life before your father passed away.

You remained thus cuddled on the couch and fell asleep, lulled by the warmth of the fire slightly away from you and the new friendly presence that had entered your lives that afternoon, so much so that when Bobby and Dean returned after trying for a varied amount of time to contact John, and finally once succeeding in being insulted and put down by him, they both smiled at the sight of those two small and defenseless children embracing each other, as if to protect each other from the world. But no one knew that night before you fell asleep you had promised to protect each other forever, no matter how, when or why you would always be there for each other.

That was how you got to know the Winchester brothers, and the hatred for their father also began.

You awaken from your thoughts when you hear the motel door open and close, realizing that another time had gone into the whirlwind of memories and you were lost in remembering again when life was easy. You hear someone coming toward you with heavy footsteps, so you wipe away the tears you didn't know were there on your cheeks, which like small streams had almost made a furrow along your skin by now.

You sense right away who it is, but you don't have the strength to turn around so you continue to cry silently as you feel two arms wrapped around you, and Dean's warm body resting on your back as he leans down so that he can put his head in the crook of your neck and hold you better. Ever since the two of you met it was immediately like big brother and little sister between the two of you, and even now despite the fact that it has been a long time since you were children and in your spare time you enjoyed stealing cherries from the neighbor's tree, there is still that complicity and understanding between the two of you that once existed.

He knows exactly why you escaped so suddenly from the dive bar you were both in a few hours ago. Sam had seen a beautiful girl, the classic cover model of some magazine, slim and with all her shape in the right place, taking a drink at the bar, looking seductively at him as she put the drink straw between her lips. Sam's hormones had not let him repeat twice that clear call to fuck directly in the bar's bathroom, a bathroom from which you were coming out as he was sticking his tongue down the throat of that fake and at the same time perfect babe, who in his arms looked so small and yet in the right place, toned against his strong muscles, as opposed to how you would have looked with your shapely body. You couldn't stand there and watch the boy you love for so long now make out with someone else, so without explanation you left and went back to the motel where you took two bedrooms for the case. Usually you take two rooms only when Dean wanted to find someone to take to bed, unlike Sam who kept his sex life much more private than his brother, but since he and Cas had come out a few months ago you had not taken the second room, having practically grown up together and thus having no problem sharing space. That night, however, when you had arrived in the small town Sam had insisted on taking a second room, and stubbornly had not told his older brother why when he had asked him, and somehow your heart was preparing for what would happen, but in fact nothing would totally prepare you for what you would see in that bar and how your heart would break.

Dean squeezes you tightly, as if he is afraid you will disappear at any moment, and that heartfelt squeeze only makes you break the weak dam you had built when you saw him come in, and you burst into endless weeping.

"I know baby, I know." That's all the blond man can manage to say to you, as he gets you up and carries you toward the bed, so you can lie down and take off your shoes, before coming close to you and holding you in his arms, until exhausted, you fall asleep safe in Dean's strong hold, while he whispers soothing words to you.

The next morning you wake up with the sun gently caressing your face from over Dean's shoulder. You smile for a second, imagining what it would be like to wake up in the other Winchester's arms, and soon after your heart, as if pierced by an arrow, bleeds at the memory of what happened last night. You get up, shifting your friend's arms, and go to the bathroom to wash and freshen up, when you hear the door to your room open, and a male voice, known even too well, shout to your still sleeping friend.

"Dean, wake up!" Sam yells, and you behind the door hold a hand over your heart, just imagining her beauty after her usual morning run to stay in shape. Her long dark hair tied back in a light bun, her forehead sweaty and muscles still tense from exertion.

"I'm awake, you asshole." Dean replies, as you hear him get up and go get some coffee. "You could have deigned to make less noise last damn night, you know there were people here who wanted to sleep."

You hear Sam snort at his brother's words, then respond to him in an aggressive, cold tone.

"Well then there are people who wouldn't want to see you run off to fuck wherever we go, hold hands all the time or make love wherever you are. And you know something else too Dean, I thought you were a better person. Why her? Come on you've had a lot of girls, and it wouldn't cost you anything to find a thousand more, why did you have to choose her!?" Says the younger brother, before leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

You close your eyes and try to control your breathing as you feel yourself lacking oxygen. You feel tears coming to your eyes, but you try with all your strength to push them back down. You take a few minutes to control your emotions as all you want to do is fall to the floor on your knees and scream until you can't hear yourself anymore, but you stay strong and open the door to see Dean immediately in front of you, looking pained and guilty, seeing your state.

"You didn't tell him." You say in a calm, quiet voice, not asking, but stating that your best friend had not told about his new relationship with our angel friend.

"I never found the right time." Dean tries to say, then looks down. "I never had the courage, every time I seemed to miss the words."

"Sam would never judge you, and you know that." You say as you feel a pang inside your heart, remembering the words the man you love had used a few minutes earlier. You feel your clothes sticking to your body like glue, too tight, so tight that you feel as if they have pre torn. You feel how the floor gives way under your feet, you feel how a billion eyes are on you ready to judge you, you feel something inside you break, but you can't let anyone but yourself see how mere words have hurt you, so you grit your teeth and continue to look at Dean stoically, as you feel a single and only tear escape down your face.

"I know, but I'm afraid in the same way, I don't want it to end like last time." Dean confesses, still looking at the floor, but crying clearly, as his words take you back to when you were nothing more than kids and he had come crying to you one night, confessing that he had fallen in love with a boy he had met during his last case, and that his father after finding out had beaten him so badly that his scars remained, and had forced him to watch pornographic movies, reminding him how "a real man acts." No one had ever seen you as angry as Dean, and Bobby when he heard you scream and came to watch that night as you swore to heaven that you would kill John Winchester. Dean had never told Sam about that episode, not wanting to worry him since he had just run away to study at Stanford, and asked you to do the same. It has been so long since that night, yet the memory of that pain and that man still frightens the wonderful person in front of you.

"But I swear I will. He has no right to think such things about you! I-I will tell him-" He begins to say, as he tries to wipe away the tears running copiously down his face. You, moved in turn and knowing that like you he too was remembering that fateful evening, take his face in your hands and bring his eyes to gaze fixedly into yours.

"No, you won't do it now, you will do it when you feel like it." You comment chuckling as you caress his face. He looks at you unconvinced and you see his inner battle inside whether to accept your proposal or to be as always too good and allow the world to kick him in the balls.

"Please be selfish for once. And if I serve as your cover, so be it, not that I would have had any chance with him anyway." You continue, smiling at him as you feel your heart slowly shatter. You see Dean ready to retort, but you have already disappeared back into the bathroom, crying silently. Once the bathroom door is closed, you stop to look at yourself in the mirror and realize how disgusted you feel about your body.

There is not a single thing about you that you like: your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your chest.

The more you look at yourself, the more you want to break that all-too-truthful mirror, which tells an unfiltered reality, a sad truth that for so long you had tried to ignore, but which now that Sam had spit it in your face you could no longer pretend not to see. So you decide at this very moment that everything was going to change, you don't know how, but it was going to happen.

So weeks go by, Sam still won't talk to you, and slowly you continue to sink into the stupid realization that he doesn't because only he, like you, can really see your body, and that he hates you for it, so now convinced that you have to change your body to be loved, you begin to eat less and less and more rarely, and what little you put in your mouth to make Dean happy, who sees you getting sadder and more tired, is rejected from your stomach just moments later when no one is looking at you. This situation hurts your body and your heart, but you do it so that you can look at yourself in the mirror without wanting to punch him, but things seem to get worse and worse. You look at yourself and you never fit, before you saw a body you didn't like, now beyond that you see a person you don't like.

Dean is getting more and more worried about you, seeing you getting paler and paler and thinner, but every time he tries to talk to you, you put on a smile and pretend that everything is going well and that the only reason your shirts now look huge on you is that you are working out more, but he knows that you never liked sports and that is why he knows you are lying to him. He tried to talk to Sam about what was going on, but all his brother managed to say by pouting was that if he needed relationship advice to go somewhere else and that he didn't want anything to do with the two of you.

Dean was on the verge of smashing the plate he was holding in his face and yelling at him to open his eyes and see that you love him more than Dean does right now and that he is fucking in love with their favorite angel, but then he had seen Castiel's face and knew he couldn't let him down after he asked him to keep a low profile and let as few people as possible know about their relationship.

Dean had never felt so lousy as deciding between the love of his life and a friend in need, but he knew that if you found out what he had done you would insult him, so he played it cool and moved on, as if nothing had happened, while he continued to try to take care of you, with little success.

It's been almost a month since Sam had said those horrible things, and you're not getting worse and worse, but in order not to show it in front of your friends, you keep doing the same things as before, trying to have the same cheerfulness.

You are now hunting a werewolf in a remote town in a state you don't even remember. Your body is weak, you haven't eaten anything Dean has brought you in the last three days taken at the various fast food restaurants and bars he had found along the way, and what little you had put in your mouth had gone down the drain shortly thereafter, hating yourself just for having the idea that you could eat something. You feel your eyelids as heavy as shutters, the muscles in your body are nonexistent, and what few are left ache from the mere effort of standing and walking, while your head throbs incessantly.

In this you are scouting around where the last victims had been killed, to see if you can find any more information, but so far you have not had much success, so you decided to split up.

You are barely holding the flashlight in your hand, too heavy for you, when you feel a sudden dizziness that forces you to lean against the wall. You stay a few minutes trying to catch your breath, eyes closed, breathing in the cool night air around you, when you hear a noise coming from a short distance away from you, like a dog growling. With difficulty you open your eyes and see before you a sight that is frightening to say the least: the werewolf you were looking for is looking at you ravenously, while a dark laughter rumbles from his belly to his mouth. Quickly you try to pick up the phone to call Dean or Sam, but unfortunately your mind is so clouded that you can't even do simple things like this and the phone slips out of your hands to the monster's feet.

"The Winchesters' little friend!" He says, seeing who you were trying to contact. "I've heard a lot about you, among the monsters you are known as their true weakness: so small and helpless, you wouldn't even survive my bite, I'll do you a favor and eat your miserable heart." He continues as he gets closer, and you do whatever comes to your chin at this moment, as you feel death coming slowly but comfortingly too, like an old friend you haven't seen in a long time. You scream Sam and Dean's name as loud as you can, hoping that at least one of them can hear you, your lungs aching from how much breath you had to use and your throat burning from the effort as you feel your strength failing.

You lean back against the wall again, this time with your back, and let yourself slide down to the floor, as your vision goes completely black and your ears become plugged as when you go too deep underwater, and the world seems more and more distant. You have one last flicker of life before you pass out completely in that dark alley, at the mercy of that monster, and you hear Sam's voice call out your name for a moment.

Your heart loses a beat, and then completely dark.

You awaken with a jump and a gasp as you sit up on the bed on which someone has carried you. Your head immediately begins to spin like a spinning top, and your vision fails again as you feel a warm hand settle on your shoulder and bring you back to lie down.

"Relax, you're safe now. It's okay." Says in a low, soft tone a rough voice, leading back to Sam. You, shocked to know he is there next to you, open your eyes with difficulty and find yourself lying on the bed in your room, in the bunker, as you see him kneeling beside your bed. His face shows the weariness he feels, but in his eyes shines a strange hope as he looks at you mixed with sadness. You place your gaze on the rest of the room and see your favorite chair, where you usually sit to read your books or do your research when you are tired of sitting in the library, covered with blankets and pillows, making you realize that your favorite giant has been sleeping there for what seems to be even more than a couple of days, otherwise everything looks the same, unchanged, and strangely everything now seems to make more sense with the presence of Sam and some of his things in the room. Immediately you slap yourself in the face at that thought, reminding yourself that he hates you, and that the reason he is here is because Dean will have had better things to do than watch you sleep.

You're about to tell him that he can leave, and leave you alone, knowing that he doesn't even want to be in the same room with you, as he has shown recently, and that in case his brother asks you, you won't tell him, but he beats you to the punch and starts talking.

"First of all I want to say I'm sorry, you don't even know how much, and I certainly understand if you never forgave me in your life, because I wouldn't forgive myself." Sam says, as you see tears forming in his eyes. You try to stop him, confused as to why he was making that speech, but he stops you in turn and begs you to let him finish.

"We found you just in time, by "luck," if you can call it that, that asshole had decided to torture you a bit before eating your heart, and we got there before he could do it, but when Cas touched you to treat you he said he didn't know if you would survive anyway because your body was too weak since you hadn't eaten for too many days. Dean insulted me and even beat me up a bit before explaining the matter from his point of view." You can't help but widen your eyes, and Sam chuckles seeing your expression, as two tears run down his face, and he darkens a little again before continuing, without looking you in the eye.

"Yes, he also told me about Cas, and also about that affair with our father to make me understand why you decided to cover for him."

You close your eyes for a moment, expecting a series of insults, but you only feel his lips rest on your hand, so you open them again and see him leaning over the bed, as you feel his tears coming hot to contact your cold hand.

"Thank you." The boy confesses in a whisper. "Thank you for everything you did for Dean, thank you for always taking care of him when I couldn't or was too blind and stupid to, I don't deserve to have you in my life."

You can't find the words, and so you do the only thing you can think of this moment, and you take his hand and squeeze it, while barely smiling at him.

"We will always have helped each other, you remember. Then Dean will be your brother, but it's like he's my brother too." You say as you pull his face up and force him to look into your eyes. You see him cry even harder, a few sobs escaping his lips, as he squeezes your hand even tighter.

"I'm sorry, I promised I would always protect you, and instead I was so stupid and jealous that I didn't realize what I was doing." He tells you again, only to stop for a moment and look at you this time with a resolve he lacked until a few seconds ago. "Why did you stop eating? How come you covered your mirror in the bathroom? Dean found the remains of the one from before in the garage, thought you didn't like it and got a new one, so he changed it for you."

Immediately you remember, one night in a rage after looking at yourself in the mirror for the umpteenth time, you had started punching it until it had become nothing but stardust under your bleeding fingers, and the next day when you had returned from your walk with the dog, you had found a new one, with a note from Dean who had said that seeing that you had taken it off, thinking that you didn't like it anymore, he had bought a new one, so realizing that you couldn't escape that vicious cycle and knowing that if it happened one more time it would arouse even more suspicion, you had simply covered it up, and hoped that no one would ever learn of that dirty secret, and instead, here it all was for all to see.

You look at Sam in those damned puppy-dog eyes of his, and burst into desperate weeping. He, seeing you in this state, instinctively picks you up and holds you in his arms.

"I disgust myself Sam." You finally manage to utter those damn words, and immediately you feel as if your soul lightens as you feel his arms grip your body even tighter as if you could disappear at any moment, and at the same time he does it with an innate delicacy, as if it were a precious crystal figurine that can be broken under his gaze. "I'm disgusted by my body, I'm disgusted by every single thing about me, and you're disgusted by it too, don't lie to me. I thought if I lost weight things would get better, but they don't, I feel worse and worse." You continue, while somehow trying to get away from him.

"In what sense would you disgust me? When would I have ever said such a thing?" He asks confusedly as he looks at you, tears have dried on his face. His eyes range and seem to want to imprint your every little detail in his memory. His gaze makes you blush as you try to find the words to tell him how his words have done nothing but unleash a storm that had long been locked up somewhere inside you and was just waiting to be released. So you take a deep breath and tell him everything, while he looks at you attentively and astonished, his arms still around his body, as if he needs reminding that you are there beside him, and that you are not just a product of his mind.

You tell him everything, every little thing you had felt hearing his words while you were locked in that damn bathroom, your feelings and emotions in the month to follow, along with all the thoughts and all the actions you had put in place in the hope that he would no longer hate you, and that maybe you would hate yourself less, too. He starts crying again, and hides his face in the crook of your neck.

You stay a few minutes clasped to each other, in silence, after you have poured your heart out in front of him, ready to suffer the consequences, when he takes your face in his hands and stares at you steadily with those chocolate-colored eyes of his, and for a moment you feel your breath short.

"Don't ever think of such a thing again. Never. You are perfect exactly as you are, there is nothing I would change about you, there is nothing I don't love about you." At his words you stand still, as if petrified, afraid that a single movement of yours could mean the breaking of this beautiful illusion. "Yes, I am tired of holding all this in, I love you, I love you so much that I am sick just thinking about not having you near me for a second, I love you so much that I would have been ready to kill my brother for stealing the girl I love all my life, I love you so much that I would be ready to climb the highest mountain in the world and scream it to everyone!" He continues as he stands up on the bed, and begins to move his arms quickly, just enough to make you laugh. At the sound of your laughter he turns to look at you, and smiles even more, to return next to you on his knees and cup your face in his hands. "I love every little, tiny thing about you madly. I'm crazy, crazy in love, and I was a fool because I was so convinced that getting away from you would be better for you, that I didn't realize that you were suffering because of me, and I'm sorry. On the one hand I would like to let you go and make you happy, but on the other hand I am an extremely selfish being and I only want you for myself." He continues as he rests his forehead on yours, whispering the last words. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

You look at him, and not even realizing what you are doing, you take his face in your hands and bring his lips to yours. The kiss you exchange arises as sweet and gentle, like two flames dancing in an elegant dance side by side, testing each other's reaction, in the same way your lips move over each other, slowly tasting that new sensation. You feel her soft lips caressing yours, until neither of you has a single breath left.

"I love you too if you hadn't realized it idiot." You comment making him laugh. "I love you, and for so long I would have preferred not to because it made me sick, yet I could do nothing but love you. The only reason that kept me alive was my love for you, even though it was also my poison." You continue by looking into his eyes, and you see the pain in his.

"If you forgive me, I will do everything to correct what I have done." He looks at you, with a penitent and pleading gaze, as he takes your hands in his, before you release one and place it on his right cheek, and he instinctively leans into your hands, seeking that simple contact.

"I've already forgiven you moron." She laughingly comments, before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him again, but this time the air in the room is different. The atmosphere becomes more erotic and intriguing. You feel his hands carefully explore your body, running his hands down your sides from your breasts to your butt, where he rests his large, warm hands, before slipping them under your T-shirt and caressing the skin of your back, making you shiver. You feel his hand rise higher and higher to the level of your bra and undo the hook that held it, but then he stops. Parting your lips he looks into your eyes for a second.

"If you don't feel up to it it's perfectly fine honey, we can stop here-"Sam says unsure, but you stop him.

"Afraid it's too much for you Winchester?" You ask as you raise your eyebrows, and see him smile, before resting his lips on yours, then creating a trail of kisses from your mouth to the chest exposed by the shirt you are wearing, down your neck.

"God, how I've missed you." He comments between kisses, but then stops again and looks at you seriously. "Anyway, I wasn't kidding myself, if you don't feel comfortable we can stop here."

You look at him, in his eyes only the pure affection and love you feel for him, and then put an end to all his doubts.

"I want to do it Sam." You say in a whisper as you take the bottom of his shirt with your hands and slowly slip it off, thus also dropping the bra he had unfastened a few minutes ago. "I want to do it with you Sam."

He looks at you and doesn't let you tell him twice, and he resumes his attack on your neck, leaving obvious signs of his passage, and then moves on to your breasts.

"God, you're perfect." He whispers before teasing one of your nipples. You moan softly at that sensation, feeling his teeth clench, his lips kiss and his tongue lick every single inch of your body, worshipping you like a goddess, a queen, tasting every inch of your skin.

This wonderful moment is interrupted, however, by the unannounced entrance of Dean, who, seeing the scene of his brother splayed across your body as he kisses your breasts, and with one hand explores the rest of your body, while you clutch his long hair in your hands, moaning his name shamelessly, lets out a small scream, before closing the door again.

"Damn you guys could warn." Comments the older brother, as Sam with speed grabs a blanket to cover you.

"Should we announce? You're the one who entered the room unannounced!" Sam replies in turn, making an expression that makes you laugh. "You can still come in now jerk."

"Bitch." Dean retorts, to open the bedroom door again and have a stupid grin plastered on his face. "So, I see Sam hasn't exactly figured out how to talk and resolve a situation, usually the mouth should be free to talk, not busy sucking-"

"You try to say one more Winchester word and I'll tell everyone about Christmas with Cindy McWood." You threaten him, and see him whiten, before his smile returns to its former self.

"Well what can I say in that case guys, good conversation and be sure to use protection, I'm not ready to be an uncle." He says closing the door behind him, then opening it again. "Not that I wouldn't make a great uncle, but I would say I'm too young and then-"

"Out!" You and Sam scream in unison, and the only thing Dean does is give you the finger before walking away. The two of you stand still for a moment weighing what just happened and burst out laughing, before Sam's lips find yours again.

"Where were we?" He asks you next, and you can't help but smile and moan at feeling his lips on you again.

It's shaping up to be a very interesting night, long but interesting, and you know that in the end maybe by tomorrow morning you can slowly look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the reflection of the man you love behind you supporting you.

TAGLIST

@supernatural-lvr @itzdarling @newtdumbledoorstarksoot @evansstan-akya

#hauntedwitch04's writing #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x plus size reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean x castiel #supernatural x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester imagine #becky's favorite #castiel x dean #castiel novak

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sophiasharp · 10 months

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Man I don’t think we talk enough about the fact that in the wildly accepted fanon, the ghouls were like. Creatures pulled out of a primitive society full of bloodshed and danger. These guys were just chilling in hell, fighting for their lives every day like you do, and now they’re on Earth, expected to figure out Earth manners and technology and how the fuck anything works. I’ve been thinking about it, though. Let me walk you through my thoughts

THE GHOULS TRANSITIONING TO LIFE ON EARTH

Aether

- Bull in a China shop

- Big man has gotten very good at controlling his strength over the years. That control was NOT there at first.

- Bumped into fucking everything too. Dude’s used to being in the wide open abyss the quintessence ghouls occupy. Suddenly having to learn special awareness was. A hurdle of his.

- He broke a lot of tables. And chairs. And plates. Mugs. One Sibling’s arm. He got there eventually but Omega had to walk him through how fragile everything on Earth is compared to their ghoulish strength.

- Part of his habit of jumping up and down also comes from how different Earth is to his home environment. You mean you can go up and then you’ll come down again? Automatically? What a concept! Gravity is so much fun!

- Still gets some sense of novelty out of electric lighting. Being able to just. Make the dark go away? Whenever? Amazing.

- He keeps a night light on in his room. The last person to make fun of him for it mysteriously ended up with 3rd degree burns.

Dewdrop:

- Skittish little fucker

- Kinda like that one video of those weird crabs reacting to the diver

- Dew, poking at a toaster: Friend? Friend? Friend? Big noise! Scared! Scared! Scared! Scared! … Friend? Friend?

- Fucking LOVED blankets and coats and jackets and robes and honestly just anything that will keep him warm. He was used to the cold, sure, but if he had a choice between that and being cuddled under 5 different comforters, possibly with another ghoul for extra body heat? It wasn’t even a competition.

- Still had to often be reminded to wear clothes. “We’re in a hellish commune, does anyone really care about one ghoul being naked?” “It’s not so much the nakedness as much as the being out and about without your uniform.”

- Warm food blew his Fucking mind. Coming from the frigid arctic, whatever warmth you’d get from your food’s internal temperature was short lived. Microwaves? Ovens? Tea Kettles? Marvelous. Truly a gift from the Dark One

- Got REALLY into cooking. Dude is a wizard in the kitchen. Watched so many kitchen shows once he figured out how TV’s worked and started replicating the really fancy meals they were creating on screen with whatever he could find around the Abbey and what the kitchen staff were willing to give him. Now, whenever there’s a big occasion, he’s the one asked to oversee the food.

Mountain:

- weirdly calm and placid about everything despite not knowing how literally anything worked.

- Just casually curious about everything. Was always asking questions. Not in an annoying way, but just politely inquisitive.

- There was like a 50/50 chance he was actually listening to you at any given point in time. I mean, there are so many new sights, sounds, smells to experience! Can’t expect him to be 100% there when there’s still so much new splendor all around!

- If ever he was confronted with something new but no one was around to explain what it was, he would instead try to just. Figure it out on his own using his best judgement.

- This is how he once ended up straight up eating someone’s phone. This was very early on, mind you, but it was so smooth and shiny! And the precious metals inside were so tasty! He knows better now, of course. But there are some days where he’s tempted to give his ministry-issued smartphone a nibble…

- Figured out his love of gardening pretty damn fast considering that’s what he was originally summoned for. However, aside from tending to Primo’s garden, he found himself still going out to tend to the plants even in his free time. It’s calming to him, reminds him of home. When things get overwhelming, the plants are there to let him channel his worry into something producing.

- His first personal plant was a small pot of rosemary. He kept it in the window of his room and took *such* good care of it. It’s still there to this day, nestled among the other plants he’s accumulated of the years.

Swiss

- he is so excited about everything!!!!

- He has to be touching all the new things all the time! What does it do? How is it made?? Can he eat it??? A lot of things that were small enough went straight into his mouth. Copia needed to keep a spray bottle on him at all times to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

- Of course, when he was around the other ghouls, he played it cool. Have to make a good impression on his new (and hopefully permanent) packmates after all. He reeeaaaally didn’t want get sent back to the pit so getting in good with the rest of the band was TOP priority!

- In fact that need to be liked was bordering on unhealthy and sort of sabotaged himself a bit. Acting all suave and cocksure when the entire rest of the band was on high alert does that.

- Most of the ghouls regarded him with a hefty amount of distrust at first- being the first summon of the new boss came with a LOT of baggage -but Cumulus saw straight through him. He was just a silly little guy! She became his first real friend amongst the pack.

- The two became menaces together, exploring the abbey and messing with shit they probably shouldn’t have. Primo’s garden was a favorite of theirs, much to Mountain’s chagrin.

- Was just SOOOO fascinated by this new body he’s been put in. Unlike most the other ghouls, he didn’t have a physical body he inhabited back in hell, only being given one when he was summoned to the surface. Flesh! If feels funny! What does this thing down here do-

Cumulus:

- was honestly kinda scared at first, what with the whole mood of the pack being out of wack.

- Apparently their new boss might have killed someone? That’s the guy that summoned them? Uh oh!

- Stayed glued to Cirrus in the beginning. Being summoned together meant having a strong built-in bond with each other, always having access to what the other is feeling. Being together offered a much-needed sense of comfort to Cumulus. Getting to spend time with a really pretty girl wasn’t bad either.

- Swiss was the one to bring her out of her shell, imbuing her with confidence through his own fake bravado. They came to rely on each other in that sense. When Cumulus was scared to do the things she wanted, Swiss would convince her of her capability. When Swiss was anxious and felt like a fraud, Cumulus would remind him of his sincerity.

- Was very curious about how her magic worked on the surface versus how it did in the pit. Back home, she was used to having to beat against the constant winds of the first layer of hell. Now that she’s on Earth, her powers are much more powerful than she ever expected them to be!

- LOVED textiles. She surrounded herself in all things soft and fluffy. Her bedroom (and most nights Cirrus’s as well) is just so Fucking cozy. Blankets and pillows everywhere. Her stuffed animal collection is unmatched. Will cry if even one of them ends up on the floor.

- Dew was the one to help her start her collection. To this day they are each other’s #1 cuddle buddies.

Cirrus:

- Stone cold badass front to hide how nervous she was.

- VERY protective of Cumulus in the beginning. She could feel how scared she was and felt the need to step up and protect the both of them from any threat this new environment may have… even if the perceived threat is a bit stupid.

- She once kicked in the washing machine cause it made a sound once it was done and it startled her. Not her proudest moment.

- Was almost OVERPROTECTIVE of Cumulus at first, even, doing even the simplest of tasks for her to prevent risk of injury. That was until she watched her kick a sibling straight in the nuts for making snide remarks about Cirrus in front of her. Cirrus had never fallen in love faster.

- Took a LONG while to warm up to the others. Constantly felt like she had something to prove, like she needed to show that she wouldn’t buckle under pressure. Everyone (but Cumulus) was a threat.

- Adores weather on Earth and how it isn’t just WIND 24/7. She loves all the different shapes of the clouds, how dark they get with moisture, the gentle snowfall or the needle-like rain. Really puts her at peace to be out on a rainy day

Rain:

- S C A R E D

- Everything is new and bright and cold and heavy and loud and- and- and-

- Yeah he barely left his room for a week, didn’t talk to anyone for anything. Not shy, necessarily, but just freaked the fuck OUT. They were starting to think he was nonverbal cause man refused to use his voice. In his defense, talking outside the water feels very different when you’re used to your vocal cords wiggling in water all your life.

- In my brain the first time he did speak was to Copia after he did his lil oopsie with the rest of the pack. It’s like a day later and Copia’s tryna plan how he’s gonna make it up to the ghouls when rain cornered him in a dark hallway, made direct eye contact, and in the softest voice went “I wouldn’t go near the lake if I were you. It’s hard to hear screaming underwater.” He then left a completely stunned and freaked tf out Copia standing alone in the hall like it never happened.

- He kinda regrets letting his first words on Earth be a threat now but the rest of the pack is flattered, although they do still sometimes tease him for it.

- Really started coming out of his shell when Dew made dinner for him. Dew was in the same shoes as him once and, although his relationship with the new water ghoul was complicated, he still felt obligated to help his new packmate adjust to life on Earth.

- Bro went through the trouble of showing Rain what every little thing in the kitchen did so he wouldn’t be scared to make his own food anymore, all while making him some grade A gourmet dining. Dew didn’t know it at the time but that’s when the heart-eyes started.

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elbiotipo · 3 months

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Notes on a South Asian Tropical Cyrodiil (and more!)

So, many TES fans know that before Oblivion, Cyrodiil was supposed to be tropical. The most striking phrase to describe it, "most is endelss jungle", says it all. The quick and snarky explanation is that Todd Howard watched LOTR, was "inspired" by it, and that's why everything in Oblivion looks sort of like a Rennaisance Fair. In any case, I think it was a huge missed opportunity, especially in a world where most popular fantasy is European inspired, to have replaced what could have been very cool tropical enviroments with what is frankly a lame "Talos used his magic" lore retcon. You can read the 1st edition of the Pocket Guide to the Empire to see what we missed.

But it's not only Cyrodiil which we missed this way… Tamriel just makes more sense as a tropical continent. While the size and the exact location of the continent is discussed by nerdier nerds than me, I think it does make sense like this, and not only that, we have a very interesting world parallel to compare it to: India. From a tropical rainy south to the cold mountains of Skyrim, Tamriel is surprisingly similar to the Indian subcontinent, and many of its geographical quirks can be explained if, instead of assuming a temperate Cyrodiil, we go all out with that concept. This is going to be a long post, you have been warned.

So with that in mind, I'll try to make a not-so brief tour (with some evocative pictures along the way) of a rebuilt tropical Tamriel, following the rains of the moonson:

The position of Tamriel, in this case, would be roughly where the Indian subcontinent is located in real life, that is again, tropical, stretching the Tropic of Cancer (is there a name for the tropics of Nirn? Interesting to think about) Here, we see our numbers pan out well: Tamriel is mentioned to be between 4000 and 3000km across east to west and 2000 and 3000km south to north. VERY, VERY roughly, there is 4000km between Pakistan and Myanmar, and 3000km from Sri Lanka to the northern tip of Tibet. Plot that on a map, and you already can see some coincidences. Now, this is a rather average continent, not Pangea sized like some imagine Tamriel to be. This does help explain why, for example, the interior of Cyrodiil is rainy and good for agriculture instead of a desert. But it also means that it's very likely that Tamriel is ruled by monsoons. Monsoons are complex, but they basically form when there are plenty of warm places for water to evaporate (the South Indian ocean), and mountains that block cool winds from the opposite direction (the Himalayas). We have a very similar situation here, with a mountainous Skyrim on the north of a tropical Cyrodiil facing an equatorial southern ocean. So, what happens are monsoons, perhaps not as strong as IRL India, but carrying rains very deep into the continent. This would feed the rivers and the rich agricultural areas of Cyrodiil, and would have some other consequences.

So let's imagine our trip South to North. In the South, in Black Marsh, Blackwood and Lleyawiin, and Pellentine (southern Elsweyr) we would find, much like in the original lore, humid tropical climates, jungle, wetlands, and my favorite, mangrooves. I would expect mangrooves to stretch in this whole area, across rivers. In fact, one of the reasons why Black Marsh could be so hard to explore and control by the Empires at Cyrodiil would be the presence of thick mangrooves all over its coast. This is the region of Cyrodiil that would most resemble "endless jungle".

(Rice fields in India, what I imagine most of this Tropical Cyrodiil would look like)

However, as any lore person knows, Anequina, northern Elsweyr, is arid desert. Does this mean a contradiction? Far from it, we have a similar example in IRL India: the Deccan Plateau, which has a semi-arid to arid climate. This can be easily explained by higher elevations up to a small mountain chain separating it from Cyrodiil to the north, and the fact that little rain would reach behind this "Anequina Plateau" would make the region of Kvatch and Anvil more dry much like in canon, in this case, more scrublike. This highland desert would not be as harsh as Elsweyr is usually concieved, maybe, but its driest regions might justify places such as Dune. (On that matter, it always bothered me to read about the "cities" of southern Elsweyr and there being only two or three there. If I had to redesign it, I would move some from the north to the south).

(the Deccan Plateau in India, it gets greener or drier according to the monsoon)

Keeping on our tour of Tamriel, the Topal Bay and the very rainy Black Marsh funnels the rainy monsoon from the south towards central Cyrodiil. Here we find the endless jungle of the Nibenay Valley. But unlike the rainforests of Elsweyr and Black Marsh, these dense forests and rich river plains are mediated by the monsoon winds, with dry seasons alternating with copious rain. This has huge effects on agriculture and culture in general, as agriculture is defined by the rythms of the rain. Keeping with our South Asian theme and the 1st edition of the Guide to the Empire, Cyrodiil would have huge extensions of rice paddies, as well as terrace farming and much hardier crops in the highlands, instead of the… well, almost absent agriculture we saw in Oblivion. The food, clothing, architecture and overall culture of Cyrodiil would be very different with this. The original Pocket Guide said some of its main exports besides rice and fruit are moon sugar and silk. Moon sugar in Cyrodiil, can you believe it?

Another thing I imagine Cyrodiil would be famous for would be fish and seafood, well, river food. Rice plantations can host fishes and crustaceans to get some extra protein, and well, what about mudcrabs? Hell, as preparing muddy soil is vital for rice cultivation, no wonder mudcrabs are considered a nuisance. Imagining critters in gameplay in such an enviroment also makes my mind roam. Tigers, elephants, rhinoceros, and this is not even getting into the more mythical creatures you could find, instead of endless wolves… Rice cultivation is also more labor intensive than other crops, and it also has a deep impact on the terrain, "terraforming" so to say, huge expanses into paddies and terrace farms. This level of cultivation also requires an established infraestructure of irrigation. While this does not necessarily means a centralized goverment, as farmers can build it and maintain it by themselves, the rise of an empire, i.e., the Empire, will also increase the complexity of these systems, adding canals, dams, reservoirs and more ambitious projects, like we see in India and China. I am sure some people more knowledgeable about those cultures can comment more.

While this Cyrodiil is a tropical/subtropical region covered in "endless jungle", some parts might indeed resemble the rolling hills and grasslands you see in Oblivion. Deforesting jungle for pasture is something very common around the world (some have joked this mass deforestation was later in canon explained as a gift from Talos lol) and you can see the results, like in tropical Australia and my closer Mata Atlantica, do superficially resemble temperate pastures in say, Europe. Until you notice the palm trees, of course. But yes, I can see the Nords being a mostly herding people (more on that below) bringing their sheep and cows to the tropical lowlands and, well, deforesting to make space for them.

(ranches in Sao Paulo state, Brazil, notice the palm trees)

Imperial City just so happens to be built in an island in the middle of several river crossings, in what seems to be a swampland. The first thing that came to mind when I read that was Tenochtitlán. The districts of Imperial City would have been built over the centuries on artificial islands on a shallow lake, using plentiful mud and organic matter to make fertile chinampas. I believe this would make for a striking sight. Instead of just a city in the middle of a empty island, you would see the White-Gold tower and the rest of Imperial City rising from Lake Rumare, surrounded by rich farmland and its districts joined by walkways. (much like the old descriptions, actually, could you believe I wrote that without reading them?)

(Reconstruction of Tenochtitlán... and I just noticed, it's surrounded by (volcanic) mountains too, much like Imperial City)

Much like the Pantanal is one of the sources to the Paraguay River (which merges with the Paraná and then the Río de la Plata) IRL, here, the swamps of central Cyrodiil would be the source of the Niben. This does raise an interesting question, where is the source of the Niben? Is it Lake Rumare? No, I believe it would be several smaller rivers all the way from Bruma and even Skyrim. These small, violent mountain rivers eventually flow into the Rumare wetlands and only THEN in the placid great Niben. You DON'T want to be caught in one of the mountain valleys in rainy season. This does raise the question; won't the developments upriver, like Imperial City itself and the surrounding farmland, affect the course of the river downwards? There's plenty of water from the rain, but a more developed Cyrodiil might indeed have to grapple with this, supposing, for example, they manage to dam the river.

Looking west, we got the Colovian region, said to be composed of drier highlands and cliffs in the early Pocket Guide. Probably cut from the rain because of the Anequina Plateau, this is indeed more arid or "mediterranean", though I actually see it as more Australian. Maybe some of the drier parts near Hammerfell, resembling Argentine Cuyo and the northwest, would be a distant cry from the wetlands, having thorny dry forests and dry valleys, where yes, you could plant wine. The wetter cloud forests (much like the Yungas in South America, the place where the rain reaches last) could maybe be the home of the last pre-Imperial cultures of Cyrodiil. Fascinating places.

(Jujuy, Argentina. Just *near* are the Yungas cloud forests, where the last rains from the Atlantic meet the Andes, making for some AMAZING places)

Given that I mentioned enviroments near to/on the Andes IRL, let's talk about potatoes. Potatoes are unique crops, because they are the only ones who offer such calories and also be planted in cold enviroments like Europe. Or Skyrim. The discovery and spread of potatoes would cause demographic shifts on people living in cold areas. And they also originated in a unique enivorment IRL: the Andes, actually with possible hybridization from the Magallenic foresWHAT I MEAN, is that potatoes are very important and have been domesticated in very specific conditions. The Wroghtgarian Mountains would seem like a perfect equivalent of the Andes at the first glance, but they would be very different. The Andes, located between the Pacific Ocean and the greater Amazonian region, are very, very unique enviroments. These mountains, however, are in between inner seas. Something like the Atlas or the Alps? In any case, if there is some people who would appreciate hardy tubers that can grow in mountainous places, they are for sure the Orcs, or perhaps the Reachmen. Maybe an hybridization even between them?

This returns me back to Bruma and Skyrim. Some people (who make those excellent Oblivion mods) imagine Bruma with a Tibetan flavor. Personally, I imagine it more like Pakistan or Afghanistan, with lots of mesas and plateaus and valleys. It would look dry and rocky with some very fertile valleys by snowmelt, but it would look like a snowy wonderland on winter, indeed, Pakistan and Afghanistan are very snowy. Eventually, of course, ending up in the great barrier of the Jerall mountains and finally, Skyrim.

(the Alps? Skyrim? No, this is Kashmir on winter!)

In this scenario, Skyrim would be a quite dry place… or would it? There is no need for the Jeralls to be a straight line of peaks like the Himalayas. They could be a more "broken" series of mountains, like the southern Andes, but in any case, the rain from the south would clash into the higher mountains. Indeed, that is what actually happens in the Himalayas, the foothills of the Himalayas are some of the rainest places IN THE WORLD. These small valleys are something very unique and not very well known part of the world IRL. I can imagine the Skyrim equivalent would be as unique too, hard to navigate and live in. The forests of the Rift and Falkreath would be mazes of windy forests valleys, each with their own unique secrets under a perpetual fog and drizzle. This is a very interesting enviroment to imagine, where again, some of the older cultures of Tamriel could still live.

(forests of Bhutan, note how the humid valleys stretch into the distance before the cold Himalayas begin)

However, what does Skyrim look like once you cross the border with Ralof? I imagine some sort of more fertile Tibet, not as high as the Tibetan plateau, allowing for forest and alpine tundra. This is mostly because, while Skyrim is high up, I don't imagine as a plateau, but rather a series of broken mountains like the North American Rockies, which makes sense when you account for all the volcanic activity (there is another super-volcano down in Skyrim but nobody notices). I imagine that Skyrim would be a primarily herding pastoral land before the introduction of hardier crops such as potatoes, and even then. Nord culture would be very interesting reimagined like this; hillforts guarding herds of sheep and cows. It would also create a clash between the very, very agrarian south and the nomadic herding north, with High Rock and Hammerfell a gradient between the two.

I decide I will stop here, I haven't even touched Valenwood (though its subtropical forest seems rather coherent to me), High Rock (the most boring part of Tamriel IMO), Hammerfell, Summerset Islands (if you don't have tropical elves in your setting, you're a coward), or whatever the hell is going on Morrowind. But I hope you enjoyed this worldbuilding exercise and how to make sense of Tamriel's crazy geography. Next time, I'll try to play with tectonics and see if we can make it even more interesting.

But here we enter a problem; if we are operating on a level where Cyrodiil is roughly at the same latitude of India, wouldn't that make Skyrim too far from the poles to allow its tundra like climate, even with elevation? No doubt. Tibet is only as cold as it is because it's the roof of the world and far from any ocean. The northernmost tip Skyrim, like Tibet, would be at the latitude of Turkey, Korea or California, which can get quite cold, but not to the level of what we see on Winterhold or Dawnstar (Solitude sounds familiar, though). What's more, having an ocean up north would only moderate the temperature. Cool currents often don't bring cold per-se, just decrease rainfall. This would end with a very temperate and pleasant Skyrim instead of tundra. Which is on its own, interesting to explore.

Could Nirn be going through an ice age, like it's implied with the dissapearance of Atmora? Possibly, but it would imply revising everything I said before, as ice ages decrease rainfall and mess up with weather patterns all over the world. A colder Nirn would explain a lot, though.

If you liked what you read and would like more worldbuilding, consider tipping me on Ko-Fi and send me stuff to talk about, or just send an ask! I'm the kind of guy who reads encyclopedias and RPG manuals for fun, so I have plenty to talk about about everything from fantasy to science fiction to speculative evolution and alternate history!

#worldbuilding #tes #elder scrolls #skyrim #oblivion #the 'do more tropical worldbuilding you eurocentric cowards' agenda #fantasy #cosas mias

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artemismoorea03 · 5 months

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DP x DC Prompt: Kindred Spirits

(aka yet another prompt where Ari accidentally writes a oneshot instead of a prompt because they get overly excited about their ideas. Inspired by the Danny Phantom episode Kindred Spirits (hence the name))

President Luthor passed a handful of laws, countless half-assed laws that sent the goverment into chaos and made a mountain of paperwork for the League. That mixed with a handful of attacks in different areas of the world that needed their attention, the fact that one of their most dangerous enemies was in charge of an entire country, and a handful of other variants they were too buried to be aware of the Anti-Ecto Law and the calls that kept getting blocked by the Government to their systems, alerting them that somebody was potentially in some kind of danger.

It wasn't until Clark and Bruce were visiting his parents in Kansas though that they realized just how much they were missing. It was a type of play-date (though they refused to tell Damian that was what this little adventure was called) which was to allow Damian a chance to play with Jon and see the animals the lived on the farm, it also gave Bruce some time away from the city after an injury required him to take two weeks off to allow his shoulder to recover.

Bruce was fine, it was Clark who was worried.

Bruce was watching the two boys play as Jon taught Damian more about milking cows as well as explaining why it was important to do such when both Jon and Clark both stopped suddenly and looked West.

After a moment Jon let out a very worried, "Dad..?"

"I hear it, Jon. You and Damian go inside and get some lunch." Clark said as Jon nodded, then practically dragged Damian away, much to Damian's complaint.

"What's wrong?" Bruce asked as Clark glared west.

"Screaming, specifically a teenager. It's muffled and echoed like he's underground. Whoever is screaming is in trouble."

Bruce frowned, jogging over to his car climbing inside as he quickly began to change into his costume as Clark zipped into the house then zipped back out in costume. "Can you follow the sound?"

"As loud as it is? No problem." Superman said as Bruce pulled on his cowl.

"Good. Take us there."

Superman didn't hesitate to grab Batman's good hand as the two went into the air and flew in the direction of the sound. Batman had no idea what to expect when they arrived as they flew through the Colorado Mountains, but a mansion of a cabin with no cars out front seemingly abandoned was the last thing he expected.

At first there was no sign of anybody or anything in the area. No neighbors, no cars, no sign of a break in, not even any noise that Bruce could hear, only proving to Batman once more that Superman's hearing was nothing to take lightly.

"Where?" Batman asked as they landed.

"Directly under the house. But... it's gone quiet. Too quiet."

Batman frowned, looking at the house and the insignia on the front of it. "Vlad Masters."

"Who?"

"Vlad Masters. He's one of the names on Lex Luthor's paperwork, supplies him with some of his 'space tech' and 'energy'. His business has always been shady but it's always been 'mysterious clean' whenever we look into him." Batman said as he went to the door, using his tech to hack into the security system before they entered the house.

Animal pelts, hunting trophy's, countless other signs that it was some kind of glorious vacation home also suggested that nobody was home. The fire was cold, there was no sign of life, but there was something green on the floor near a wooden vanity that had been broken in half and recently.

Suddenly, Batman heard a low but muffled voice should from near the fireplace.

"YOU EXIST TO SERVE ME! JUST DO IT!"

Batman glared as they both ran towards the fireplace as Batman began to adjust some of the statues when the head of a Vlad bust rolled open at the forehead exposing a red button. Before he could hit the button though there was another voice, this one was clearly a young child.

"YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME!"

"NO! NO!"

Batman clenched his teeth as he hit the button, the fireplace beginning to open in front of them. Suddenly there were lights on that he could see which lined the staircase. The two began to rush down the stairs, following the sounds of people talking when the young voice spoke again.

"I can do this..." The voice echoed.

"You don't have to. Cover your ears and get behind me."

Batman and Superman made it to the basement just in time to see what happened next. A man with black hair who was dressed as a vampire was approaching two children, a teenage boy and a girl closer to twelve. They both had white hair, green eyes and black and white suits. They looked like siblings, or cousins.

Regardless of their relationship the boy was in front of the girl protectively, sucking in a deep breath before an absolutely horrifying noise ripped it's way out of the boy in a wave of green. Superman immediately smacked his hands over his ears and Batman found himself doing the same thing but he didn't take his eyes off of what was happening in front of him. Machinery and tech was knocked off of the walls, the round cracked, and the vampire was thrown away from him and slammed into the far wall.

The amount of power coming from this one kid was intense and something Batman had never seen before, and judging by the look on the vampire's face it was something he hadn't been expecting from him either. Batman looked back at the boy, who seemed to be getting more pale by the second, his body shaking as tears pricked at the corner of his eyes simply from the amount of energy the ability he was using must have taken.

It wasn't until the vampire seemed to transform from it's vampire appearance to a more familiar appearance of Vlad Masters, a sight that Batman honestly didn't expect to see in such a situation but not one that exactly surprised him either. If Vlad was a meta that made some of the things that didn't make sense before a lot clearer.

Finally, the boy had no energy left as the yell - or rather the wail - cut off, dropping everything that had been thrown against the wall including Vlad. A similar white ring surrounded the teen as he seemed to transform from a white haired green eyed teen to a black haired blue eyed teen that immediately crumbled to his hands and knees. He had bruises from fighting, but the bigger concern were the bruises on his wrists that were clearly from restraints of some kind.

Was the boy the one Superman heard scream?

The young girl checked on the boy, who was shaking and looking like he was seconds away from passing out.

"Out of power... but worth it to take this place down..." He said, seeming to notice Batman and Superman with wide eyes, but the others didn't seem to spot them yet.

Vlad got up and started marching his way towards the kids, transforming back into his vampire appearance as the girl blocked the boy.

"Stay away from him!" She said, her hands glowing green as a puddle of green began to form under her feet.

"Oh, I don't think so girl, you don't dare use your powers again. Danny's beaten, this is over!"

Batman and Superman launched into action as Batman threw one of his batterangs passed Vlad's face, causing him to jump away from the teens. Vlad turned, seeming to expect somebody else but then being absolutely shocked and almost frightened when he saw who was standing in front of him.

"Superman and Batman? Here?" He growled, his hands glowing as he glanced passed them at the kids who seemed almost as frightened as he did. "I can save you both, you know? Take you away from them and keep them safe."

"Think... we're safer away from you, you absolute Fruitloop." The boy said, trying to get up just to stumble and fall again as the girl seemed ready to protect him from Superman.

Vlad laughed, "We'll see about that, Daniel. If you think I'm dangerous... imagine what they'll do with the truth." Vlad suddenly shot up into the air, flying through the ceiling.

"I've got him!" Superman said, flying up the stairs after Vlad while Batman turned to face the two kids.

"Stay back!" The girl warned, her hands glowing again as the puddle started to grow.

Batman held up his hands, taking a step back. "It's alright, nobody's going to hurt you. What's your names?"

The girl looked at the boy who seemed to be fading fast. "If you help him and don't hurt him... I'll tell you everything but if you hurt him... I'll destroy you." She warned.

Batman nodded, "I'll help him, I promise."

She relaxed, finally allowing Batman closer to the teen who looked up at him and tried to move away just to end up falling to the side instead. Batman put his hand out, supporting the teen before helping him sit up more steadily.

He looked at the bruises on the kids wrists then at the container behind him which had shackles in similar shapes and sizes to the bruises on him. Whatever this was, whatever Vlad Masters was doing, clearly surrounded this boy. That meant they had to get him out of there.

Batman carefully picked the teen up, surprised at just how light he was. Did this kid eat? He adjusted his hold on the teen who put his head against Batman's shoulder with a tired sigh as the girl grabbed Batman's cape. He gave her a soft smile before the three of them started marching up the stairs, meeting Superman at the top who sighed.

"He took off towards the North-East." Superman said as Batman nodded with a 'Hm'. "So, what are your names?"

"I'm... I'm Dani and this is Danny." The girl said.

"Two Danny's?" Superman asked, "Doesn't that confuse your parents?"

"Considering my dad is Vlad, I'm guessing not." Dani huffed.

"She's... my clone..." Danny muttered, exhausted as both Superman and Batman blinked in surprise. "But you're not allowed to hurt her. Made by Vlad or not she's my family and I'll protect her..."

"Nobody's going to hurt anybody." Batman promised, "For now we're going to get you somewhere safe and figure things out. Superman, call Flash and tell him where we are, we're going to need a pick up."

Superman nodded, reaching to grab his League Communicator as he walked away while Batman set Danny down on one of the couches.

"Okay, there you go. What did that guy mean when he implied that we were dangerous to you? What do you all think we're going to do to you?"

Dani shrugged as Danny looked at him.

"Anti-Ecto Control Act... what I am, what Plasmius is, what Dani is... we all fall under a law that says we're non-sentient. The law says that anybody with ectoplasm in our blood is to be captured, contained and destroyed. Which means that legally you should be trying to kill us... not help us."

Batman frowned, "I've heard of the law, didn't think it held ground and least of all enough ground to follow." His frown faded as he gave the kids a reassuring smile. "Plus, I'm technically a vigilante, that's hardly legal too. So, what the law doesn't know won't hurt them. Besides, you guys seem plenty sentient to me."

The two Danny's smiled before Dani let out a sniffle as she rubbed her eyes.

"I'm sorry... Danny... I'm sorry." She sobbed, hugging onto the older Danny who hugged her back.

"It's okay, Danielle... it's okay."

It wasn't okay. None of this situation was okay. But, Batman would do everything in his damn power to make sure that it was fixed as soon as possible.

#dp x dc prompt #dc x dp prompt #my prompts #more of a oneshot #because i suck at prompts #so mini promptshot #because yay!

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mondsphere · 2 months

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Luo Binghe: Original Drafts Edition! Who and why?

“[…] in fact, in his original outline, Bing-gē hadn’t even had a romance plotline; he had been doomed to fade away, alone and unaging forever.” — The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System, Vol. 4 (Mo Xiang Tong Xiu)

The drafts version of Binghe! Not Bing-gē, nor Bing-mei, but a secret, third thing! (I’m partial to Bing-xióng (兄) myself, just for thematic cohesion. Bing-mei remains as he is: Shizun’s special glass-heart maiden.)

So! Who is this elusive, mythical Binghe we never got the chance to meet? What is he? How do I get to pick this one’s brains?

Why is he haunting me! What does he want! So much to think about.

Listen: I love my trash sons, both the racoon and wet dog variations, but I am curious about this handsome demon lord who did not bed thousands, and did not steal his shizun to lovingly coax him into a loving and respectful marriage. Alas, Airplane-bro, as is custom, has left me hanging.

The solitary quote above has been floating around my brainspace for months. Intermittently, I would look up at the sky and sigh a big sad dog sigh, and think of this lonely demon-man emperor who seems to be both perfectly representative of No-Shizunitis Suffering Binghe, and on the exact opposite end of the line. I have spent many a night trying to rearrange the blocks of both SVSSS and PIDW like a sad toddler with no plan but plenty of amorphous longing.

Thus, Bing-xiong. My beloved new toy.

We know he is left alone and unaging. This means that:

He does not marry even once. (Sorry, Other Bing Variants. This one came broken.)

He is not defeated, killed, or left to suffer his not-father’s fate of sulking under a mountain.

From 1) we can assume two more things! Xin Mo either gets fixed/doesn’t influence this Binghe the same way, or: Xin Mo is completely written off à la Airplane Retconning, making Binghe potentially even more individually powerful than his younger counterparts.

(Or he just. Takes people’s cultivation ad-infinitum. Interesting thought, but too straight-forward for my tastes. Airplane’s thoughts? Unknowable.)

From 2) we can also assume Binghe cannot die, is under the influence of the Protagonist Halo unto infinity, and will only be put out of his misery once the heat death of the universe deems it a worthwhile endeavour. Either that or the story ends, but. It tickles a miserable part of my brain pink to think Binghe will not be let off even then.

Anyway. Bing-xiong, of course, has the same source material to work off of. Up until the Abyss, and including it, the plotline should be if not the same, adjacent enough to be indistinguishable.

However. This means:

Bing-xiong never got coerced into sex by Qin Wanyue, thus not starting him on the path of sex-dependency/addiction, avoiding Bing-gē’s fate by virtue of the Butterfly Effect. (Read this post because it explains Bing-ge's whole thing better than a lot of things I've seen.)

Again, Xin Mo implications.

Alternate Universe Shenanigans make an appearance. (Shen Jiu’s fever and death was actually meant to happen, Bing-ge just got very, very unlucky and his Universe’s Yue Qingyuan very, very lucky. For a few years. Either that or there is a Shen Yuan for every Binghe! Again: sorry, Bing-ge. You need to find your own. Middle child issues…)

Once the drafts/original outline got lost, all bets are off and now the characters become real people, without narrative influence. This also has the very fucked up implication that Bing-ge is actually a result of exclusively external forces and would have never gone down that path if not forced onto it by Airplane’s unwitting hands. I do and do not love this version. Very Mo Ran-esque, if looked at from afar and squinting.

Other options I’m either too not-high to think, or too high to put together. (Cold medicine is insane?)

I am fascinated by this… Schrödinger’s Binghe. A jaded, lonely emperor left in the ashes of his world, gazing upon his own history and finding fucking nothing and no one. Metaphorically and, like, practically, if I’m understanding Airplane’s musings correctly. Isolated, cursed by his own blood in a completely new and fucked up way!

I need Airplane to speak with me for like, half an hour. This is paramount to my mental health, I’m losing my braincells by the hour.

What happened to this impervious, cocky, badass demon bastard lord to become so alone? How did it happen? Why did it not happen to the other two, or at least Bing-ge, who has had every horrible and shitty thing possible and impossible piled onto his head? What the fuck is up with Xin Mo? Why isn’t it eating away at Big Bro Luo? Or, worse: why is it eating away at him in such a way that instead of turning into a violent yet charismatic, horror-creature of a man, it turns him into the existential terror-fate I’ve contemplated and abhorred since I was seven?

Tianlang-jun as the final boss. Discovering Huan Hua Palace Master’s crimes, deceit and… stuff. Perhaps even uncovering Shen Jiu’s backstory.

Ooh! Worse! Or better? What if he finds out everything, after having followed Bing-gē’s path, and simply… gives up? A grown up Bing-ge, minus the marriage and surrogate-lover part(s).

(More unlikely than other options, but still there, I guess.)

Fucking insane of MXTX to do this to me, personally and specifically.

I can only speculate forever, I guess! Left… alone and pondering forever.

So. Not a Bing-ge, and not a Bing-mei. A Bing-xiong, if you will.

#svsss #luo binghe #svsss meta #if you like. want it to be #the fact that this is the first post on this blog is upsetting but also completely in-line with who i've become as a person #i'm sure someone else said it better than me asp #this is all to say i'm trying to plan a longfic with drafts!binghe as my one and only 2024 project #and it is eating away at me #because i understand and also NOT #the concept itself is so ????#its insane that one single line of text from mxtx from almost a decade ago can do this to a person #lbh #lbx #hey why would i say this to me #huh.txt

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captain-mj · 2 months

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First of all, I love your writing and your fics. I love your IWTV au so much. And I'm a fan of your other stuff.

Sooo I have some ideas I'd like to share with you , dear MJ. I was thinking of an isolated Ghost. He almost hides himself from people, some place like Alaska or in the wild. Somewhere cold and out of humans, so he can be all by himself. He doesn't want to be around people because of his past, and he hides himself from people. He lives in a cold forest or somewhere unreachable in winter because of the snow. He lives in a cabin.

And there is Soap, who goes on a camping trip with himself after breaking up with his boyfriend. Thinking that camping would help him get better emotionally. But it starts snowing, and he is not prepared, and he gets lost in the wild. He is desperate and cold. While searching for help and walking for hours. He comes across the cabin where Ghost is staying. Ghost doesn't welcome Soap at first, but because of the heavy snow, they are stuck for about a week or a month. So Ghost helps Soap get better, and they start to get close and hot...

I think I explained it in so much detail, but you can change it however you want. I'm always hungry for your stuff, in any form. And feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write about it. And of course, please don't mind my English; it's not my first language.

Ily,take care.

Very much can do that!! Yes!

Ghost sat in his cabin up the mountains, using his sniper to look down at everyone. He knew that right now there were two different groups of people camping. One further down that seemed to be full of experienced campers and one a bit higher up that set up their spot for their view. They were way too close for comfort.

Neither were particularly good company. No one was.

Ghost hated people. Especially fuckers who came on to the mountain for camping.

He had hoped this secluded place in the middle of nowhere would provide peace. Instead he just dealt with this.

Ghost put his gun away. It was for hunting and he was worried any gunshots would send the campers into a frenzy. He had plenty of food for the winter thanks to Price sending him stuff. Price insisted he just used Ghost's pension for it but he didn't believe him. Old sap probably used his own money.

Ghost went to his cabin and cleaned instead. Not that it really needed it. Besides the fact that he meticulously cleaned most of the time, nothing he did made much of a mess. It was mostly just dusting the books off to make sure they didn't get dry rot.

The snow started. A lot harsher than he had been expecting. It started to pile up on his porch and it made the roof creak a little.

Ghost imagined it caving in and crushing him. Suffocating under the weight of wood and snow.

There were worse deaths.

Further down the mountain, Soap went a little away from the group he came up with. He set up his tent and planned to relax for the next two days.

No cell service which was exactly what he needed. No worrying Mam, no angry ex trying to get him back. Just silence.

Soap was so bored. He supposed it was his fault for expecting anything less. He was not a person that sat still often. Always searching for the next thing. The next adventure.

This did not feel like an adventure. It felt stale.

Soap noticed the snow so he only walked within the vicinity of his tent. He followed the protocol, but it took one stumble for him to fall out of bounds. Quickly, Soap scrambled back up and glanced at his tent. Still right there, just slightly farther than before.

Maybe some sleep would do him some good.

Soap settled into his tent, ignoring the snow piling on top of it. It just kept coming. Covering him in a freezing cold blanket of water.

The tent had a hole in it. He had just bought it, he had no idea what he did to cause it. Although small, it was definitely messing up the whole insulation part of this. It also let snow in which started to melt, getting him and his clothes wet.

Frustration started to bubble over. He wasn't experienced at camping but he wasn't an idiot. This wouldn't work. He'd have to either fix it or leave and he wasn't sure how he could even leave.

Thanks to the water, his arm was soaked, cold digging in so hard it felt like actual needles. He tried to dry himself off but the whole situation wasn't working.

Reluctantly, he ignored that he was still slightly wet and got dressed. He'd just go out for help.

The people he came with weren't there. Or at least, they weren't where he thought they were. He didn't want to believe the guide they came would be so stupid as to not count the people before evacuating if they did, but he also said he wanted seclusion and lied about being experienced.

Maybe they assumed he already left?

Soap panicked for a moment. He allowed himself that. Before he straightened up and started thinking. There was no way he was the only person on the mountain. While he couldn't make it all the way down on his own, he was sure someone had to be there. It was mid morning, he had time before it got dark and cold.

Ghost sat on his porch close to twilight. He smoked silently, watching the trees.

The man had been walking around his property for a few minutes and Ghost was trying to figure out if he was a real person or not.

He sighed and whistled, watching him yank his head around painfully to stare at him.

"You okay?" Ghost called out.

Soap stepped a bit closer, no longer shivering. He was also holding his shoulder. "Are you God?"

"Oh for fuck's sake. Sure. I'm God. Where are your things?"

"I took them."

"Why are you jacketless in the middle of the snow?"

"It had gotten wet. Was trying to dry it out but it didn't really work..."

Ghost sighed. "Come closer."

Soap stumbled to the steps. His pants up to his knees were soaked and his face had pale skin with rosy patches.

Ghost sighed in frustration and opened the door. "Come on." He'd get the guy warm and then send him on his way. The snow wasn't too bad yet. Neither of them had a radio to know that it was predicted to get much worse.

So Ghost accepted him in and had him sit in front of the fire. He found a dry blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. "You okay?"

Soap started to shiver.

"Guess not."

"Got a drink?" Soap rasped out.

Ghost poured him a nip of bourbon and handed him.

"Don't suppose you got Scotch?" Soap said softly before knocking back the drink. He grimaced and Ghost was sure he heard a mutter under his breath about British people having shit taste.

Ghost watched the way the alcohol raced through him. Color almost immediately back in his face. "Thanks. Name's Soap by the way."

"...Ghost. The fuck you doing up there?" Ghost went by his callsign since there was no way someone would name their kid Soap. He thought of asking him about his shoulder but decided against it.

Soap sighed. "Trying to clear my head." He flinched when Ghost laughed at him.

"Piss poor job of preparing."

"Aye. Suppose I thought myself a survivalist." Soap laughed softly before averting his eyes. He looked embarrassed.

Good.

Ghost put the bottle of bourbon next to him. "Drink as much as you want." He knew he'd barely make a dent on the bottle.

Soap only took what he had to. He managed to get himself warm.

Ghost looked out at the sky. Too dark to send him anywhere.

"In the morning, I'll show you the way down the mountain."

"Yes, sir." Soap looked at him. He seemed almost indignant. Like Ghost was being bossy.

Ghost bit his tongue. "fuck off. Go to bed near the fire. You'll need to stay warm all night."

Soap nodded and laid down. "Don't have to tell me twice."

Ghost went to his bedroom, brandishing a knife. He stayed there and watched the door all night. Just in case. Just in case.

Soap stayed in the living room and he tried to Keep warm. Ghost would come in like clockwork to put more wood on the fire.

During the night, the snow came down harder. Before long, it was at the door, covering the entire porch.

Ghost groaned as he watched it. While yes, he may be able to go down by himself, he'd never be able to get Soap down the mountain as well. As much as he hated it, he also likely wouldn't be able to make it back.

Soap stirred and groaned, holding his shoulder. He saw the outside and before long came to the same realization that Ghost did. "So we bunking together?" It sounded sheepish, like there was a risk that Ghost would throw him out into the cold.

Ghost sighed. "Yeah we are. I have a guest room that i haven't used in ages. I'll get it set up."

"And I had to sleep on the floor... why?"

"Be closer to the fire." Ghost left him alone to brush the dust off of everything. He had planned to turn it into a gym or something equally useful, but never did. The stupid room came with the house.

Once it was livable, Ghost came back out. "You can go in. I'll make breakfast. We'll be up here a while. It's still snowing so it's hard to tell."

"You have a vehicle or anything?"

"Nope. We'll be walking."

Soap cursed in a funny language and stretched, back popping. "How long you guessing?"

"A week. Minimum."

Soap winced. "Sorry for the... everything."

Ghost stared at him for a moment before just going in. He cooked breakfast silently and Soap sat nearby. Occasionally, he'd start talking, but Ghost didn't respond to any of it.

"Oh come on. You're going to be stuck with me for a week. Might as talk to me. What are you doing up here so isolated?"

Ghost put a plate of eggs, bacon and hashbrowns in front of him. He sat across from him and yanked his mask up just enough to start eating.

His scars had the effect he hoped. Soap winced at the harsh smile cut into Ghost's face. "Aye. I see."

"Good." Ghost answered, shoveling food down. He mentally counted through his supplies. He had enough for a few months, so with two people, it should be fine. This bastard was getting none of his ice cream though.

Soap ate quietly before swallowing. "Gang?"

"Military." Ghost admitted begrudgingly.

"Aye. I see. I'm a sergeant right now."

"Retired." Ghost drank some of his tea.

Soap nodded. "Look, I'm not trying to be an ass here. Really. You don't have to talk to me. But. Do you have any coffee?"

Ghost stared at him for a minute before getting up and checking. "I got instant and regular."

"Got a coffee pot?"

"French press. It was a gift."

Soap's eyebrows scrunched together. "You know how to use it?"

"...No."

"Fuck."

They put their heads together and worked with the French Press until they managed to get a cup of coffee brewing. Ghost watched the stuff bubble and huffed. "Tea is easier to make."

"Coffee tastes better."

"Yeah, right." Ghost continued drinking his tea.

"Since we got it figured out, do you at least wanna cup to try your gift?"

Ghost sighed. "Yeah, why not."

Black coffee was just as dreadful as he remembered. He added some sugar, ignoring Soap's mildly judgmental gaze.

The first day was spent with Ghost trying to do his normal routine of reading or working out and Soap being incredibly bored. Ghost felt too uncomfortable to do most of his workout routine with him around and decided to give up.

"Do you have internet? Or anything? Most of my stuff was left in my tent."

Ghost sighed. "No. How far away was your tent?"

Soap hummed. "No clue honestly. I don't think it was that far, but there should be a trail of my clothing. I have no idea why I started taking it off."

"Hypothermia makes you feel warm after a while. It's some psychological thing. It's why some people who are frozen to death are found naked."

Soap grimaced at him. "That's horrifying."

Ghost shrugged and showed him the guest room. It was pretty nice, if a bit plain. Soap fell on the bed and groaned. "Firm. I like that."

Ghost hit his boots. "I'll try to find your tent tomorrow. Get some sleep."

The second day he found himself being trailed by Soap despite the asshole clearly should be staying at home. He kept touching and rubbing at his shoulder. Ghost was trying not to ask, but he'd need to eventually. If he got infected, that would make everything a lot harder.

They found his tent and Soap went searching for his phone. Unfortunately it was dead and when they got home, they found that his charger had too much water damage to help. Soap sighed and rubbed his face. "I knew I shouldn't have come out here."

"Why did you?"

Soap thought about it for a second before turning towards him. "My ex." He was careful not to include man or woman. This guy could be homophobic for all he knew.

Ghost nodded. "Got it. Their fault or yours?"

Soap blinked. "What?"

"You cheat on them and up here hiding from it? Lot of guys do. Or did you come up here because they're a right prick?"

They. Not she. They. Soap picked up on the pronouns and took a deep breath. "They asked me to leave the military. I said no. They said stuff."

Ghost tilted his head. "I see. Well. They can't exactly find you up here."

"Aye. Guess they can't." Soap smiled.

On the third day. Ghost went searching and found his dvd player and old tv. He showed Soap his dvd collection.

Soap hummed. "More romance movies than I'd expect."

"I inherited my mum's collection." Ghost lied.

"Uh huh." Soap picked a movie and put it on, happy to have something else to do besides sit there. How Ghost did it was beyond him.

On the fourth day, Soap even managed to convince Ghost to sit with him through one of the movies. It was a romance movie that Ghost had memorized. It was a film where she had to travel across Ireland and stayed with a nice Irish man throughout the journey.

Soap drank some more of the coffee and it seemed to calm him down a little.

After a bit of hesitation, Ghost looked at him. "You smoke weed?"

"No." Soap glanced at him.

"You wanna start?"

Soap took a deep breath. "Fuck it. Sure."

Ghost pulled out a joint and lit it. He took the first hit and then gave it to Soap.

Soap coughed and Ghost laughed at him. "It's a little different than a cigarette."

"Yeah, a little bit, sir." Soap smiled at him and they passed it back and forth for a bit.

Ghost felt the pretty much permanent ache throughout his body disappear. It seemed to do the same for Soap's shoulder.

They both relaxed for a bit and Soap looked over at him. "You're a cool guy, Ghost."

"Thank you." Ghost smiled at him and kept smoking. They put on another movie and relaxed for a while. It took the edge off.

Soap swallowed. "Why are you up here?"

"It sucks down there."

"Does it get lonely?"

"Sometimes." Ghost mumbled, his head falling against the couch. Around people he was usually always wide awake. Too scared. But Soap made him feel weirdly safe.

Soap fell asleep against his shoulder and Ghost followed soon after.

When they wake up, the fire had been out for hours and the house was freezing.

"Fucking hell." Ghost got up and tried to start a new fire but it wasn't sparking.

Soap shivered. "Well, that's not great. Anything i can do to help?"

Ghost checked the wood. It was fucking damp for some reason. He couldn't figure out why but that would be better for morning when he had more light. "My bedroom has the least amount of windows."

Soap's eyes gleamed as they shacked up in there. Ghost covered his windows with curtains and grabbed some more blankets as he turned on the lights.

His room was far better decorated than any other part of the house. His bed was covered in quilts and high quality soft pillows. A cabinet in the corner had tons of photos from Ghost in his time in the military. Most of them had Ghost's own face covered with marker.

"You know Captain Price?"

"Yeah, I know John." Ghost rearranged a few things and started to strip off his jacket.

Soap paused to stare, admiring the muscles that were revealed when the shirt followed right after. His pants unfortunately did not come off too. "Take off your shirt."

Soap nodded and followed the order. Was this happening? Were they about to fuck right here and right now? The worst part was he was going to let it happen.

Ghost pulled him into bed and shifted so he was fucking spooning him. "Fucking hell I was cold." He settled into the warmth and promptly closed his eyes, pretending nothing was happening.

Soap was in heaven. Or maybe hell. Either way he was getting hard and that was not great.

Ghost fell back to sleep. Soap was ridiculously hard, pressed against a beautifully muscled chest. He could feel each of Ghost's breaths with the rise and fall of it. In a desperate attempt to calm down, he thought of war. His ex. The fact that his ex was probably trying to blow up his very dead phone.

Soap thought of his ex and felt a strange lump in his throat. God he didn't want to go home. He really didn't want to. His ex would be at his heels like a baying fucking dog to nip at his fucking heels.

Soap let out a sharp noise, a bit like a sob, and quickly bit his lip to shut up.

Ghost pulled him closer. "Soap?"

"My name is Johnny."

Ghost's thumb rubbed circles in his chest. "Johnny." Oh that beautiful voice. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Simon. You okay?"

"My ex tried to hurt me. I'm military, don't know why he thought it was a smart idea. But when I defended myself, he was just... so cruel. Called me shit I never wanted to hear again. Accidentally made myself upset over it."

"I'm sorry, Johnny."

"S'okay. Nothing to do with you. You're the first person that hasn't made me feel worse honestly."

"Not worse. I'll take it." Ghost sounded a tiny bit amused. He squeezed him. "Do you feel warmer?"

"Yes. Feels nice in this bed with you." Soap didn't mean to sound quite as suggestive as he did, but Ghost noticed. His grip loosened briefly before tightening again, tangling their legs together. "Simon."

Ghost turned him onto his back and kissed him, having pulled up his mask at some point. His scars tickled a little. It was pretty nice honestly.

Soap's fingers ran down his chest to his pant's button and undid it for him. "Is this okay?"

"Should be asking you that." Ghost gruffed. "Don't have to do too much tonight, but you're hard."

"So are you. Can feel you through your jeans." Soap smiled at him. He slowly unzipped his pants and touched over Ghost's cock.

Ghost let out a small whine. "Fuck, it's been so long." He quickly unzipped Soap's pants and pulled him out, having no shame about it. His hand fit around both of them and his thumb easily ran over Soap's head.

"Me too. Won't judge you if you don't last long." Soap teased, pulling him back to kiss him again. He groaned as he thrust up. "Nice and easy, yeah?"

Ghost rutted into him and moved his hand in time. They kept kissing as his hand found a decadent rhythm, truly stretching the pleasure out for both of them.

Soap moaned and his back arched trying to press himself even closer. "Simon."

Ghost bit his lip hard and paid more attention to Soap's cock, trying to get him closer and closer. He felt him start to pant into his mouth and licked into his mouth happily.

Simon buried his face into his throat and came over his chest. Despite this, he managed to keep his hand moving so Soap followed after a moment later.

Johnny kissed him softly. "Later, if you have lube, I'll let you fuck me."

Simon wondered briefly if he was a rebound and then decided he didn't particularly care. "Okay."

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

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daveykimy · 5 months

Text

Chinese Folk Religion: Snowy edition

Recent snow storms where I live has got me thinking: is there a deity responsible for snowfall and winter in traditional Chinese religion?

You got Frau Perchta/Holle in Germanic folklore, Yuki-Ona in Japanese Shinto folk beliefs, Skadi in Norse Paganism, and Morana in Slavic mythology, but I haven't ever heard of such a figure from my elders growing up.

So for this one, I had to actually use my limited Mandarin skills to do research, along with some help from more fluent family members and friends.

It turns out there are more than one traditional winter & snow deities in Chinese folklore. The reason I personally didn't hear of any is because, again, Chinese folk religion is extremely regional. There are central major deities that are uniform but the rest all differs from region to region. Han Chinese people have always spread out across several climate zones, from tropical to sub-arctic. Understandably, Gods and Goddesses associated with weather will differ from region to region. My Chinese side of the family hailed from a region where snowfall isn't very common, and winter isn't normally extreme. But look towards regions north of the Yellow River, and it's more upstream valleys in the Han Chinese heartland, it's a different story.

Teng'Liu: The Spirit of Snow and Frost

The first deity I can find is a figure named Teng'Liu (藤六). This is a male deity associated with snow itself. The "Liu" part if his name is the Chinese character for 6. Snowflakes typically have six arms/branches regardless of pattern. In Chinese numerology, the number 6 is also a number with "extreme Yin energy" (极阴). Snow itself is a thing with a lot of Yin energy too, as it's formed from water. Those familiar with Chinese cosmology should be familiar with the element's association with the cardinal direction of North. Which, again, is attributed with Yin. Thus explains why many forms of his folk names contains the number 6.

There is a folk ritual (which thankfully hasn't been practiced in over a century), which in Northern villages they used to offer up a young girl to this snow deity as a gift to appease him. The unfortunate girl would be tied up in a sack and left to the elements in the cold.

Teng'Liu occurs often in poetic works of literature as a stand-in for "snow". A fitting example is a work from Song dynasty writer and poet Yang Wanli, where he mentions "The Azure Lady pulls along Teng'Liu, as the Sun wilts away as she shakes (him)"** The meaning is obvious, but he mentions an Azure Lady, which takes us to another deity.

Qing'nu (青女）: The Azure Lady

The second deity associated with snow and winter is a Goddess called Qing'nu, or "The Azure Lady", "The Lady in Turquoise", "The Lady in Blue", depending on the translation. She seems to be much more well-attested in ancient religious texts in addition to poetry and seems to predate the emergence of Teng'liu.

Attested in Huainanzi, a text compiled around 139 BC, "...three moons into autumn, Qing'nu emerges (from her home), and makes frost and snow fall..."

She is also mentioned as having white hair in a lot of classical Chinese poetry.

In traditional Chinese folk beliefs, Qing'nu resides in the moon and is a companion/handmaiden of the Moon Goddess Chang'E (嫦娥). Every year at the end of autumn, she will emerge from the moon palace to perform her duty: to bring winter, frost, cold, and snow. She will descend upon Mount Qing'yao (青要山), where she will bathe in the waters there to purify herself. She will then start playing her seven-stranded lyre and snow and frost will fall upon the earth to cleanse the land of impurities and diseases (until they come back next summer).

BTW Mt. Qing'yao is an actual mountain in Henan Province. The mountain itself does play a rather big role in traditional beliefs and in Taoism. In fact, there is a hill adjacent to the mountain named Qing'nu's Peak (青女峰), where on the peak there stands a pillar-like rock. In local folklore they say that lone pillar looks like a slender lady, standing atop the mountains looking down upon the earth. It marks where the Goddess herself stands every year to bring winter. The locals call it "the maiden's rock" (闺女石).

Legend has it there was once a gorgeous palace at the foot of this mountain where Qing'nu would stay in temporarily during winter. This could possibly be a reference to some type of structure used as a shrine or temple. Today only the spring that flowed in the palace remain. The very spring that, according to folklore, that the Goddess herself bathes in to purify herself. Today, young ladies from around would make pilgrimage to that spring to welcome her arrival on 14th day of the ninth month. A second pilgrimage would also be made on 13th day of the third month as she is supposed to leave and return to the moon. (the dates are the dates in the Chinese lunar calendar).

From these we can see while those deities are all associated with snow, they are seen by the people as very different. Teng'liu is very embodiment of the weather phenomenon, kind of like Jack Frost in American folklore. The fact there were rituals to appease him means that he is seen as a very unpredictable and volatile force. A spirit which has to be controlled under strict orders from a higher Celestial deity (天神): Qing'nu. Think of her as the Chinese counterpart to Frau Holle, a spirit attributed to making snow fall but not the snow itself. Or rather, think of those two like Helios and Apollo in Greco-Roman mythology. One being the sun itself and the latter being the one who pulls the sun across the sky.

This was fun, i hope all you folks who are trying to connect to their ancestral beliefs found this useful.

**translation might be off, sorry. Middle Chinese is difficult even for fluent speaker who studies old literature, plus this was Middle Chinese in it's poetic form.

#chinese folk religion #folklore #chinese folklore #history #ancestors #witchblr #witches of color #han chinese #chinese diaspora #folk taoism #chinese mythology #chinese religion #folk religion #polytheism #world religions

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tythehedgehogheadcanons · 1 year

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General Knuckles HCs

Explaining my general thoughts for Knuckles and how I characterize him. I always include a lot of thoughts on the characters, as well as random things they do, their music taste, fashion sense, and all that.

My requests are open, please read the pinned message!

~ I see him as a closed-off guy, all he knows is being tough and being alone. It's hard for him to talk about feelings, so prefers to express himself through violence and yelling. In short; he would rather level a mountain than talk about how lonely he is.

~ I wouldn't say his tough-guy attitude is entirely an act, but there's definitely a part of him that wants to play it up to look cool. In reality, he's just a strong and determined guy who still has a lot to learn.

~ He is uneducated, but not stupid. He may struggle with concepts he didn't have on his island like things taught in school and ESPECIALLY social interaction, but outside of that, he is rather smart. (The fact he still has to hold his hands up to tell left from right does not mean he is stupid!)

~ Say it with me yall; Touch. Starved. He secretly craves physical affection but refuses to admit it. He's gotta keep up the tough guy look damn it!

~ I see Knuckles as a very "I don't have to understand it to accept it" guy. He doesn't try to understand something before he decides if it's good or bad, just accepts it at face value. Someone's trans? Just tell him what they want to be called and he will call them that. This does lead to a lot of pranks being pulled on him though!

~ Knuckles has anger issues he is still learning to control. A lot of small things that don't matter make him really angry, and he often lashes out in anger at times when a fight would only make the situation worse. He is very aware of this issue and is getting better at managing it, but things like teasing are still huge triggers for violent outbursts.

~ Knuckles struggles to ask for help. He swears up and down that he can do it himself when he absolutely cannot and just doesn't want to feel humiliated and ask for help.

~ That being said, Knuckles doesn't like help when he doesn't need it. It makes him feel humiliated and embarrassed that someone helped him when he could have very easily done it himself.

~ If there was a contest for who could give the best "cold shoulder treatment" he would have multiple gold medals.

~ Knuckles isn't an introvert, but not really an extrovert either. He doesn't actively hate or try to avoid other people, but he does tend to stay in areas without many people as it's what he is used to.

~ Knuckles hates small talk. If it's not something he enjoys or something important, he doesn't want to hear about it. He doesn't care about other people's business!

~ Knuckles always looks like he's pissed about something- even when he isn't. He never seems to realize this and always get's confused when people get nervous about his glare.

~ Due to Knuckle's lack of social awareness and social skills, he often stares at people in public, stands in the way, touches and grabs random things that he's curious about, and generally things that are considered rude or annoying. He doesn't mean to be rude, he just has no idea those things aren't very socially acceptable. He is often asked to leave stores after grabbing a bunch of things to mess around with (and very likely breaking them...)

~ Continuing off of that, Knuckles often just walks away when someone is trying to talk to him. If he doesn't want to be there, he will leave with no explanation and you will not stop him.

~ Knuckles doesn't care for being called a 'hero' or receiving praise for doing something small. He appreciates praise as much as anyone, but unlike Sonic, he would prefer to be praised for something like stopping Eggman, not getting a cat out of a tree. It should be common sense to help someone who needs it!

~ Knuckles prefers to spend time outside, either training or just a nice stroll. He has no idea what the appeal of "Movies" or "Social Media" is, and is very confused about how people find entertainment in it. Why fight someone with words on a small rectangle when you can go actually fight them?? (Please do not give him access to twitter.com)

~ Knuckles practices meditation and is often seen in calm or peaceful places with his eyes closed. Knuckles actually joined a local meditation group and considers everyone in that group a friend. He gets very upset when his meditation is interrupted!

~ Knuckles makes friends with some of the most random and strangest people, it honestly concerning. The store owner of a small pawn shop? Knuckles greets them whenever he sees them. A traveling merchant that sells weird and creepy trinkets? They have an inside joke!

~ I don't feel like Knuckles cares for music. He doesn't hate it, but he doesn't really listen to it on his own time- Knuckles prefers the sounds of nature instead! That being said, he DESPISES pop music.

~ Fashion sense! I always love Sonic characters in clothes, so always include this in my headcanons. Knuckles would prefer loose clothes, clothes that show off his muscles and don't get in the way of his movement. He just prefers to wear tank tops and sweatpants or cargo pants. He may wear an athletic jacket on colder days. He prefers white, black, or green clothes to stand out against his Red.

~ He absolutely asked for Amy's help picking clothing colors and begged for her to keep it between the two of them, people can't know he asked for help! He has a reputation!

~ Knuckles still has his old cowboy hat and treats it like his child.

Please reblog this to help me gain publicity, reblogs over likes! Thank you!

And please, comment with whatever thoughts you have. I love to read them all and it gives me a huge motivation boost to keep going! <3

#knuckles #headcanons #sonic headcanons #sonic the hedgehog headcanons #knuckles headcanons #knuckles the echidna headcanons #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #knuckles the echidna #sonic fandom #sth #knuckles x reader #knuckles x male reader #x reader #x male reader #x gn reader #gn reader

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vidalinav · 1 year

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You Never Forget (4)

The other chapters

Summary: Nesta loses her memory when she falls down the stairs and all that jazz.

Nesta isn’t sure when it happens, but a light bulb flickers on. A flash of lightning pierces the room, and suddenly, for a moment, Nesta blinks wide at the brightness of all she can see... and just for a moment, it all seems like a trap.

For a moment, Velaris feels menacing.

She can see it outside of her window like a monster hidden in the depths of the night. She’s tucked beneath covers, in a house so high above, but the lights below flicker in the distance chanting up a summons.

Remember, remember, remember.

Remember who you are.

Remember what she feels, would be the better retort. Nesta’s not so sure anymore.

She feels... unsteady. As if she’s standing on a ledge of a very tall tower and one push of the wind might make her tip. Cassian says he’ll explain everything once they get home, but he only lays her down in bed. He won’t let her go from his arms the whole way, mumbling something about her injury. Her head does hurt so Nesta doesn’t argue.

But it’s her chest that hurts more. Something heavy sits there, pressing there like Cassian does his fingers to her head. Tap taps like the pitter patter of rain and the summoning of a storm that may or may not be coming. For surely, if there’s lightning, there must soon be rain.

He rubs at her head and Nesta thinks of storms. He combs his fingers through her hair until she blinks so slowly she might already be floating, sinking into that flooded Sidra. Cassian turns off the lights with promises of tomorrow, “tomorrow I’ll tell you everything” and Nesta sees that flash of lightning. Like a lightbulb flicking on and off again.

Velaris in the distance winks cruelly and Nesta thinks of that tiny fae female with eyes that might bite, and an ugly, bitter taste floods her mouth. It tastes like blood... and wine... and hurtful, aching words.

It feels like falling.

It feels like hitting tarmac and cement.

It feels like never getting back up.

Nesta wills her eyes shut, praying she forgets it all. She doesn’t want to remember the taste, the touch, the feel of knowing. She only wants to feel Cassian’s hands as they were before he shut the door and turned off the lights, before they even made it down the mountain. She wants to hear his voice and the humming in his chest where his heart beats a melodic song. She wants to feel the warmth of his body against hers, protecting her against the cold, piecing wind as they fall.

Nesta wills herself not to remember.

For something cruel and dark lives there in the depths of her memories.

But morning comes too soon and Cassian takes her hand. They’re going down again, he explains, to meet the people she’s forgotten.

Forgotten like they don’t even matter at all.

“I should have mentioned them sooner,” he keeps remarking, but Nesta’s not so sure she wants to know who they are even if that thought drums up so much guilt that it makes her nauseous.

That heavy feeling is back again and her heart beats a bit faster, her limbs are a little more stiff, her back stands a little bit straighter. She keeps clenching her fists. Cassian keeps unraveling them, kissing at her palm and rubbing at the indentation of her nails. It reminds her of teeth and bite marks and cruelty.

A few days ago, there was nothing but dreams and today, the drums sound in anticipation and the noise rings in her ears. She can barely comprehend what Cassian says as her head aches, pounding away.

“Feyre will be happy to know you’re well.”

Feyre, she breathes. Feyre is her little sister and Rhysand is her sister’s mate. It’s all she knows of them. That and the fact that they live down below and Nesta lives high above, so high that she must be trapped in this place.

It’s a thought that persists, for no one should live so high and away from the rest of the world.

Cassian only looks her up and down, and it’s further proof that there must have been something wrong with her to be kept so far away. He’s caution against cradling her in his arms. She’s never seen him so hesitant in these past days and it has her eyes stinging, but she wills herself not to reach for him. She must stand on her own two feet.

This is how she’ll remember.

His eyes settle on her hair, and Nesta tries not to fiddle with the straying pieces. “You’ve braided it back,” he notes.

She resists touching the twists it pulls on the scab of a wound still healing. But for some reason, Nesta likes the pain. It’s the one thing she can’t forget. It’s there persisting, nagging her forward.

The sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can take it out. The sooner you’ll be free.

So Nesta shrugs in answer, because she doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s familiar,” she says quietly and those are not the right words for a sadness so deep she could drown in it flashes through his eyes. This time she doesn’t stop herself from rushing to him and finding solace in his massive frame and he doesn’t stop himself from holding her close.

Cassian holds her tight, one of his hands settling on the back of her head as if he can keep her there permanently. She doesn’t know why this feels like a goodbye, but she wants to pull at his hand and plead for them to stay here where it’s safe, where nothing exists but them and this house.

But soon enough, she’s wholly in his arms again, his wings catching the wind as they fall.

The house they arrive at is much less grand then the mountain, though large in its own right. Nesta wonders if it will also grant her everything she wishes... perhaps all houses do that here. Perhaps there is nothing really special about it. Just like her, who only boasts pointed ears and nothing else.

The door opens for them and Cassian merely walks through like he’s been here before and she’s sure he has because it’s she who doesn’t remember. Lives have been lived without her knowing this entire time.

Cassian leads the way and when they enter what seems to be a living room, Nesta’s gaze catches a wall of pictures just as a set of arms move around her frame.

“Oh, Nesta, are you okay?” Feyre, Nesta presumes, says. She squeezes the life out of her, but Nesta does nothing but hold her arms to her waist in a way she wishes Cassian would instead. So she wouldn’t feel so unsteady within these walls and within her sister’s arms. “I’ve been worried sick. Amren told me she’d seen you and Azriel wouldn’t say a word.”

Behind her sister, leaning up against that wall, a male’s gaze flickers to hers and then to Cassian’s. Dark and dangerous... Velaris’s flickering lights.

“Cassian told us you fell,” he says and at his voice, Nesta wills herself once more to not fiddle with her hair. So instead she focuses on the pictures that fit so fully on the wall. Family and joy and warmth and smiles of people she should recognize, she knows. She hopes it fills her, hopes it calms her racing heart.

“We’ve been worried sick,” Feyre says, but at Rhysand’s stern gaze, Nesta wonders if that’s a lie.

But some truth settles in Nesta’s chest as she looks back up at those smiling faces. A truth so heavy she wants to cry.

A lightning bolt strikes and Nesta knows.

No love for her lives here in this house.

#nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #you never forget #blah blah

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ceescedasticity · 7 months

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Unforsaken, 9c

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

Elrohir asks if Maglor ever wandered far enough south to get completely clear of Sauron's shadow.

Celegorm asks if he would have noticed if he did.

Maglor says yes, as a matter of fact, he did travel that far a few times and did notice.

In fact, he's been farther south than the Númenóreans ever got! Although it was a little hard to tell, since stories of the wicked Westerlings spread south, too.

…Then they have to explain 'Númenóreans (derogatory)' to the Hirnedhrim.

"Have you not heard of this at all? I thought the Dunlendings were still holding grudges about it?"

"Not that anyone told us about."

Risyind mentions that apparently Pelndoru either wasn't paying enough attention to hear about the Númenóreans or else it decided to scrub them from history after the Involution. She's guessing the first one.

(If she didn't have more important things to worry about Sharlinnu would definitely be cranky about the Involution.)

****

Gimli points out they should probably do a demonstration with the Wizard's Clay before it comes time to use it.

…Although the horses wouldn't be very happy about it. Or the oxen. Or Celeborn.

Maglor could probably keep it from bothering the oxen and horses? It's not easy when he doesn't know beforehand what he needs to neutralize…

Celeborn objects to blowing up anything in the Vales of Anduin regardless of who can hear it — though he can see the point about needing a demonstration. Wait until they're north of the mountains?

Okay, but at that point Maglor will also need to keep it from attracting cold-drakes.

…Actually no one knows whether cold-drakes would come towards the sounds of explosions.

****

Over the course of several days—

Ah, geese flying north.

They're doing a lot of landing and taking off for migrators.

…They really should have overtaken us by now.

Are we being tailed by geese?

Gimli was bitten by a goose once.

That's nothing, a couple of the goblin-men of Dunland got mauled by geese, they eventually swore off trying to keep them.

…None of the elves have ever been attacked by geese.

"It's about respecting them."

…Those are… kind of large for geese, actually, aren't they?

Ohhhhhh, those are the Geese of Manwë!

Everyone stops to look at Glorfindel like he's lost his mind.

The what now.

The Geese of Manwë. Like the Eagles of Manwë, but geese.

…

We didn't see them in Eldamar in the Time of the Trees because there weren't a lot of natural bodies of water — apart from the Sea — but once we got rivers in—

What.

—No, one thing at a time, geese.

(Or should it be Geese?)

Glorfindel isn't sure what they want him to say. They're like Eagles, but geese. They aren't as suited to killing things as the Eagles. Their homes are less remote, so you see them more often, in the West. Some of them enter poetry competitions? They're supposed to be banned from both Yavanna's gardens and Aulë's workshops, but, uh, that hasn't really stuck.

"None of that explains why they're following us."

"I… expect they're meant to be helping us?" Glorfindel says. "I'm not sure how, but it must be a good sign?"

"I would have thought Eagles would be more help," Turgon says. "Although I suppose they could arrive later."

Has this flock been living somewhere in Middle-earth all this time? Who knows!

"Those aren't all geese," Legolas says suddenly. "There are two swans. Grey, but swans."

Celegorm immediately turns around and tries to look himself, even though it is a sunny day and he was uncomfortable even before looking at the sky. He is unable to confirm or dispute Legolas's observation.

Several others can confirm it, though.

…Huh. Weird.

…Not really much weirder than the 'there are Geese of Manwë' baseline, though.

****

(That evening after speaking to the party Arwen decides to take a closer look at these 'Geese of Manwë' and mystery swans. She ends up dropping the Orthanc-stone on her foot. It fractures a toe. Arwen swears Aragorn to secrecy.)

****

They're able to keep on the river a long ways, with all the oxen walking and the barges lightly loaded — even past the point where the Anduin is born in the confluence of two smaller rivers. They pick the tributary coming down from the Misty Mountains, since the one from the Grey Mountains splits into two streams halfway there.

It gets un-navigable eventually, but Celeborn doesn't think it's more than a day or two before they would have had to cut north away from the river anyway.

They unload the wagons from the barges, and move the supplies to the wagons. As for the barges themselves — well, they aren't anticipating any cargo on the way back, but it would still make things easier, and they should at least try to return the barges to Arwen. They drag the barges on shore and turn them over, protecting them as much as they can out in the open.

They reorganize the oxen — eight wagons rather than four barges — and continue on.

****

At this point they can all drive the wagons. No one is particularly eager to. (The suspension is not great.) They trade off often.

Celegorm, Turgon, and Sharlinnu have to pick between walking in the daylight, riding in the wagons, or walking around holding a piece of canvas over their heads as a sunshield.

Caution rises as they approach the Gap of Gundabad — not that they weren't alert before, but there hadn't been any expectation of threat.

Gimli grumbles about such a holy place being profaned.

Khitwê points out that Pelnûru scholars' best guess at the former location of Kuynennu — Cuiviénen — is in Dead Empire territory, and even the geography isn't there anymore, so really the dwarves are still ahead!

Elladan: "I thought no one knew where Cuiviénen used to be!"

Khitwê: "They don't know for sure, but there were people who knew how to get to Kuynennu from Pelndoru and back, so even after everything got torn up they could get approximately there…"

Of course they couldn't investigate after the White Empire started up.

Maglor: "…So if Mount Gundabad is full of orcs—"

(Celegorm: "Not that many orcs—")

Maglor, ignoring the interruption: "—And what's left of Cuiviénen has an entire human empire squatting in it… does anyone know what happened to Hildorien?"

No. In fact, there is some skepticism on the Hildorien story generally.

Before they can get into that, Zena asks what exactly they're talking about — it turns out no one has told the Hirnedhrim about the various awakenings. So they have to go over that.

The Hirnedhrim are — not skeptical, exactly, but they have questions. There are things you have to be taught, that you can't just conjure out of nowhere. What was the difference in wisdom between these magically-awakening adults and someone who lived alone in a pit their entire life finally getting out? How did the difference get there?

Zena: "And there must have been a difference, because an entire village full of just-retrieved Usazilas would have… had problems."

Zuste: "It took over a hundred years for the bite-scars to fade."

…

What?

Maglor: "I would argue that being kept in a pit and treated like an animal by the only people you have ever met teaches its own breed of wisdom which is of less than no use in most other situations."

Zena agrees he may be on to something there, but still doesn't think that's sufficient.

Elrohir knows he is not going to like the answer and that possibly he just shouldn't ask, but: "I understand that the Men of Dunland had no love for you, but… why a pit?"

Zena: "They thought it would keep the Fair Orc away from their women if his child was still there. That was why others of our sisters and brothers were tolerated through infancy, at least. These people thought they had found a way to do that which they liked better than keeping an abomination in the house."

Zuste: "They boasted of it. Had been boasting for years before we found out."

Zuste: "We burned that steading to the ground."

She does not say what became of the inhabitants other than Usazila.

Celegorm: nodding approvingly

Turgon: glaring at Celegorm for this improper moral feedback

Risyind: "Well anyway, the tradition of the People of the Pearls is that humans lived underwater until drawn out into the air by the light of the Sun."

Zena: "Interesting!"

Risyind: "My understanding is none of the Pelnûru have ever felt there are any grounds to challenge them on it, since it's not like we know exactly where Men awakened."

Legolas: "No one ever pointed out that Men can't breathe water?"

Risyind: "They are fully aware of that themselves. The stories don't explain anything, but the tradition for a long time was that before the Sun, Men were more like porpoises. More recently, though, there were some philosophers who argued that the stories specifically say drawn to the air by the Sun, and porpoises already have to visit the air regularly, so Men must have been more like some other sort of fish, or maybe octopuses."

Legolas: "Ah, that makes sense."

(Have never heard of an octopus: Legolas, Zuste, Zena, Dyn. Also Whiterot.)

Risyind: "Maybe, but there was some heated discussion. We heard all about it because some of them had to leave town for a while and came to Pelndoru."

Gimli: that doesn't sound right "…The octopuses…?"

(Has never seen an octopus, but has read about them in books written by Dwarves who had also never seen one: Gimli.)

Anyway that discussion gets everyone thoroughly sidetracked, thank you Risyind.

(Have seen one or more octopuses in the course of living by the Sea and/or traveling by ship and/or knowing Círdan: Khitwê, Risyind, Elrohir, Elladan, Sharlinnu, Glorfindel, Maglor.)

(Has seen an octopus after his cousin absolutely insisted he come to Alqualondë and get on a boat and see this new, fascinating creature he just found out about: Turgon.)

(Has seen octopuses and been disappointed when Oromë said he couldn't teach him to understand them: Celegorm.)

(Has seen one or more octopuses in the course of knowing Círdan, but only after spending several centuries thinking Angrod made them up, and unfortunately Círdan told the twins about this: Celeborn.)

(Have eaten octopus: Sharlinnu, Khitwê, not Risyind because she doesn't care what anyone else says, it doesn't look like something you're supposed to eat, shut up Khitwê. Also Maglor, but he doesn't want to talk about it.)

****

Whiterot joins them once they're properly in the Gap of Gundabad. (She is greeted with questions on whether she knows what an octopus is. She does not.)

She goes over the state of things in Gundabad. Most relevantly, no one is likely to attack them. Whiterot does have some healing minor injuries from scuffles, but just usual day-to-day stuff. There's still no leader and no plans to police the gap. They're good.

(Also, some orcs did take Bellow's advice and took off to look for good places to hole up in the Mountains of Angmar, but that's not pertinent at the moment.)

****

They're almost out of the Gap of Gundabad when disaster strikes. Sort of.

Dyn asks Gimli about the case with the three strands of hair, and he explains.

Maglor looks at Celegorm. Celegorm looks at Maglor.

They don't say anything.

—So here is the thing, about the hair.

Asking someone for some of their hair for use in an art or craft project — either directly or as a reference — was not unknown. But it wasn't the sort of thing you'd be soliciting strangers in the street for, either; it was a personal request for a favor and belonged in a personal relationship. Artanis refused the first request because she wasn't inclined to grant Fëanáro any favors, and also she felt Fëanáro held himself too far aloof from the grandchildren of Indis to presume a personal relationship.

That last part was difficult to dispute.

So, Fëanáro had assumed his status as an elder kinsman and as a matchless craftsman would stand in for a personal relationship; Artanis said it didn't. Kind of embarrassing for Fëanáro and awkward all around, but not inappropriate.

There was some familial huffing about how if Artanis didn't respect Fëanáro enough for this maybe her family weren't really Noldor. That sort of thing.

But asking a second time made it weird, even with the clarification that he wished to "study the hair's unique appearance". Artanis made it even clearer that she was not interested in granting a favor to someone who "pretended my family did not exist until he thought I might provide an interesting specimen".

Asking a third time—

Asking a third time was inappropriate. The Arafinwëans all left Tirion for Alqualondë, and Artanis didn't come back for a Tree-year. Finwë didn't reprimand Fëanor, but he did offer to ask Ingwë and Olwë for hair strands himself which Fëanor could study, with the implication that Fëanor could therefore stop making such requests of people who found it upsetting. Nerdanel told Fëanor there were questions on which he needed to accept 'no'.

And Maitimo, Makalaurë, and Tyelkormo, who all had social circles which reached outside Fëanor's most devoted followers, had to deal with a number of friends and acquaintances either attempting to delicately ask "hey wtf is up with your father and hair" or refraining from asking despite really wanting to. And when someone did ask, loyalty required trying to justify Fëanor even though they knew he'd pushed too much.

It was not enjoyable. The last thing they want to do here is deal with someone explaining the whole debacle to Legolas, Gimli, Khitwê, Risyind, Sharlinnu, Whiterot, the Hirnedhrim, and possibly Elladan and Elrohir — and, actually, they aren't 100% sure Celeborn knows already. Just. No.

They say nothing. Elladan and Elrohir are intensely relieved.

(Glorfindel is secretly a little disappointed.)

#a tolkien tag #orc bank #orc bank unforsaken #i don't think this chapter is going to go much further but it needs some more internal modifications

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space-mermaid-writing · 2 months

Text

The Vamp and the Were [IronStrange]

Summary: Tony would mark the day he met a vampire that did not immediately jump at his throat. Just for once – that would be a nice change.

Relationship: Werewolf!Tony Stark / Vampire!Stephen Strange

Tags: hurt/comfort, idiots in love, angst, fluff

Chapter 9: Camping

“Hey, you wanna go camping?”

“Camping?” Surprised about the question, Stephen raised an eyebrow. His phone in one hand, he gestured with his other to Wong and stepped out of the room. “Why?”

“I just need to get out for a few days. It’s a Were thing. Usually helps with the nightmares, too.” Tony spun around on the chair in his lab, biting his lower lip. If anyone asked him why he asked Stephen to accompany him, he would say he didn’t know. But that would be a lie.

Truth was, he wanted Stephen to come along. Just the two of them in the middle of nowhere. Tony really liked to torture himself. “Normally I go to Mexico,” he explained on the phone. “But if you join I would look for somewhere less sunny.”

��And will you stay all furry during the trip?”

“Probably not the whole time.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, you’re joining?”

“Yes, Tony. I’m going camping with you.”

A smile cracked out on the engineer’s face. “Okay. Great.”

It wasn’t difficult to convince Wong to guard the Sanctum in his absence. In fact, Wong seemed to approve that Stephen took a few days off.

Stephen and Tony agreed to travel by portal since it was much less flashy than taking the jet. They met a few days later with their luggage, which really wasn’t a lot.

Tony showed the sorcerer a photo of a cabin and Stephen opened a gateway. He should have known that camping with Tony Stark didn’t mean small tents and sleeping bags. Instead they had a cozy cabin in the woods.

The air was noticeably cooler than in New York. And while in Greenwich, had the sun just been setting, there was the deepest night here. Besides that, it was quiet, except for the soft rustling of the wind in the tree.

“Where are we?” Stephen asked, not recognizing the area when he looked around.

“The Ural Mountains.”

Stephen paused. “Ural as in Ural, Russia?”

“Well, yes.” Tony shouldered his bag and walked to the front porch. “It’s perfect. Only 5.6% population per square kilometer, 5 hours sunlight a day at this time of the year and currently a very vampire friendly 41° Fahrenheit. That’s 5° in Celsius.”

"I know how to convert that." Stephen picked up his bag and followed him. “Is this yours?”

Tony shook his head. “I traded with a business partner for a year. He gets a house at the sea in Spain.”

The sorcerer had a strong suspicion that said business partner was also a Were. Well, he won’t complain.

The inside of the cabin was cozy but modern. With a full stocked kitchen – Stephen wouldn’t need anything from it anyway – and plenty of room for two.

“Do you need to store your juice boxes in the fridge?” Tony asked while checking out the kitchen.

“No, I can go without them for a few days.” And if he did need something, he would portal and grab it. He watched Tony as the engineer peered behind each kitchen cabinet door like a curious dog. “So, what do you normally do when you go on these ‘camping’ trips?”

“Mostly, I run,” the engineer admitted.

“Do you want to go on a run while I unpack?”

“Nah, it can wait until the sun is up. Let’s go check out the area. I was told there’s a lake nearby.”

They went on outside.

Stephen wore civilian clothes for a change. In fact, he wore just a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, although it was clearly too cold for that. But he seemed comfortable, even enjoying the biting wind. But then, he probably would enjoy a vacation in the Arctic.

Tony had thrown another jacket over his sweater. When he was out as a wolf, temperatures were less a problem with his thick fur.

Both had no trouble seeing in the dark with their heightened senses.

Less than half of the moon was visible in the night sky. A beautiful crest of cold, silvery light.

For some it might be a symbol of danger for it was the time when the shadows formed and predators came out to hunt. Those who did not wish to be seen could move about. Creatures of the night and the dark. Like vampires.

The moon itself didn’t shine. It just reflected the light of the sun, like an enchanted version of the source of so much life.

Still, it was the only kind of sunlight that did not burn Stephen and his kind. Yet, his undead condition was much more apparent as the bleak light danced across his pale skin.

The sight distracted Tony from the fact that he was feeling restless. He still was fidgeting, suppressing the urge to move faster. To stretch his legs and just run.

But he held back. Stephen was here with him and if there was one thing better than running, it was walking next to the sorcerer.

Finally the promised lake came into view. The surface shimmered invitingly in the moonlight, and Tony ran ahead. He kicked off his shoes, rolled up his pant legs, and waded into the shallow shore water, kicking it like a playful dog.

Stephen let him without commenting on it. He realized that it was important for the Were to get rid of the excess energy. He sat down in the grass on the shore and watched him patiently. There was something endearing about seeing the engineer this carefree.

After a while Tony came back and dropped down next to him. “We should go skinny dipping.”

“No.”

Tony pursed his lips. “You’re a killjoy.”

“And you will get hypothermia if you jump into the ice cold water.”

Which was true, but the Were did not admit that. He didn't say anything and that was almost the same as admitting it.

He shook the water off his feet and put his socks and shoes back on.

The small dots of stars shine brightly in the night sky.

“Do you miss sunlight?”

The question was simple yet complicated. It wasn’t merely the ability to go out in the sun that Stephen lost the day he was turned.

“I miss meeting people during the day,” the Vamp admitted. Humans after all weren’t creatures of the night. Not truly. And besides the people of Kamar-Taj, Christine was the only other person that knew when he had become.

And now of course Tony and Peter.

He had seen plenty of indirect sunlight in the Sanctum. Sometimes he stood at a window, simply watching people for hours. It was a perfect allegory of how life was for him now. He was no longer part of the human world. Only a bystander, forced to stand in the shadows.

The number of vampires among the sorcerers wasn’t exactly small. There were also other species beside humans.

Still, sometimes Stephen couldn’t help but mourn what he had lost.

Tony’s eyes met his and for a moment Stephen felt seen. It felt like the engineer looked behind his cold demeanor and saw that behind everything, Stephen was a lonely man.

It should be alarming, the sorcerer wasn’t normally one to share his deepest feelings and fears.

But he wasn’t able to look away from those warm, brown eyes. He didn’t know what it was about the Were that made Stephen trust him.

A creature sinfully inviting.

He should stay away.

Yet, Stephen found himself on this camping trip with the man.

If they weren’t a vampire and a werewolf, he would have read more into the invitation. But they were what they were. Both not human and almost on opposite ends of the humanoid spectrum. At least that's how it appeared to Stephen.

Tony was the epitome of sunshine. Chattily, outgoing and socially accepted.

Stephen hid what he was, for vampires were generally considered bloodthirsty monsters, driven by instincts that only told them to feed. To kill. Unfortunately, that was true in most cases.

His down-spiral thoughts were interrupted by Tony, who noticed the faint bright strip on the horizon. “We should head back.”

He stood up and held out his hand to Stephen to help him up. In the first second the sorcerer just blinked, his thoughts still trailing in that negative direction. But it was forgotten as soon as he took Tony’s hand and he let himself be pulled to his feet.

Contrary to his expectations, Tony did not let go of his hand afterwards. Even more, the Were’s finger intertwined with his when he pulled him along, walking the path back to the cabin.

If he was physically able to blush, Stephen was sure his face would be red. At least his cheeks felt hot. It was ridiculous, he shouldn’t be flustered by a simple gesture like this.

On the way back Tony was much calmer than before, more content.

Only when they arrived back at the cabin, Stephen withdrew his fingers from Tony’s, and he missed the warmth of his hand instantly. “I’m going to prepare for the day.”

The werewolf nodded. “Sleep well,” he said, although he knew that vampires did not really sleep. The undead did need to rest, but not like the living.

Stephen usually used the time to meditate. He stepped into the bedroom he had chosen before and closed the shutters from the outside and the curtains from the inside to block out the sun. And just to be on the safe side – and because he was in a foreign house – he cast a spell into him that helped him not to burn immediately if any sunlight should touch his skin.

He looked around the room. The furniture was made of heavy wood, probably oak and cherry. There was a bed, a drawer and next to it a bench with additional storage space.

Stephen chose to sit on the bed, his legs crossed with his back to the wall. He took a deep breath to calm down and get into the right state of his mind.

The temperature in his room remained comfortable for the vampire. He knew it would rise a little during the day, but he trusted Tony to keep an eye on him.

Then he closed his eyes.

Tony, meanwhile, treated himself to a snack and some water in the kitchen. He waited some time to see if Stephen would need anything and only when the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, he was sure that this was not the case and he left the cabin.

There was a shed on the backside of the cabin, and next to it, there was enough firewood stacked to get a small family through a winter. Tony and Stephen wouldn't need any though. While the Were liked a nice bonfire or the coziness of an indoor fireplace, fire was one of the few things that posed an absolutely deadly threat to vampires.

And Tony didn't want the sorcerer anywhere near such a danger.

He took off his clothes and stowed them next to the tools in the shed. The cold gave him goose bumps and he hurried to shift.

His bones changed, grew longer. Adjusted, stronger muscles stretched over them. Dark brown fur sprouted from his skin. His senses became sharper and the scents around him more present.

It was prominent now to him that the cabin belonged to another werewolf, but it felt friendly enough that it didn't bother him.

Then he started running.

Just straight forward. Moving fast over the barren, solid ground of this land.

It cleared his head. As a wolf, he acted more on instinct; following smells and noises. He stretched his limbs, his back, and enjoyed the opportunity to move in full speed for once.

He ran several miles until his lungs burned and only then slowed down. Finally coming to a stop, he threw himself on the ground to roll in the dust like a young dog. It was great.

Afterwards he felt more settled. There was no more itching that made him fidget.

He continued to move at a more leisurely pace and changed directions to make a semicircle so as not to stray too far from the cabin. He also paid more attention to his surroundings now.

He found a creek nearby and drank some clear water before he curiously explored the unfamiliar area, following a few tracks of local animals.

Although the area was deserted, there was much for the Were to discover.

A herd of wild boar had crossed this path a few hours ago. Most of the birds took flight before him and perched on branches a safe distance away, chirping at him from up there. He spotted a polecat, but it was too small to hunt. No challenge at all.

The sun rose higher, but the temperature barely exceeded 57°F. With his fur, he did not mind much.

A hare had the misfortune not to escape him fast enough and ended up as his lunch.

It was not until sunset that he made his way back to the cabin. If he were alone on this trip, he would also spend the night out in the wilderness, but now it felt like he was called back.

Stephen was already awake when he arrived. The sorcerer was reading a book as he sat on a swing on the front porch. Today he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his marble carved-like forearms, which was very much appreciated by Tony.

Seeing the man made the rational and human part of the werewolf's brain come back online faster than it normally would.

The sorcerer looked up when he heard the paws approaching him and put his book aside with a smile. “Did you have a good run?”

Tony huffed in agreement, not shifting back yet.

Stephen reached out his hand to scratch the wolf’s ears. The Were climbed onto his lap with his front paws and rubbed his cheek on Stephen’s chest and shoulder, scenting the clothes. It just felt like the right thing to do.

The sorcerer pushed Tony's head away from him as his muzzle moved further up to his neck. “No dog drool in my face,” he scolded, but his voice betrayed him. Sure, Tony was in his wolf form, but he still smelled mostly like his human form. And that scent was very inviting.

His slender fingers brushed through the fur on his neck, where normally a vampire would bite. It was awfully close to the place where werewolves put their mating bites.

Tony stilled under his touch, looking at him with trust. Awaiting.

But Stephen didn’t do anything further. He removed his hand and the moment went over.

Tony trotted back into the house. He was tired and could use a short nap. After all, he hadn't slept since last night and all the running today had worn him out.

Stephen stayed outside. It was fully dark now, but that didn't stop him from reading. He had hung a small portable lamp above the swing and enjoyed the frosty temperature, and that he could stay outside without being noticed.

Camping wasn't so bad after all.

He heard it before he saw anything. Footsteps, creeping closer. A heartbeat. He waited and listened without outwardly giving the impression that he was doing anything other than being focused on reading.

Stephen waited until the footsteps came to a halt, about 30 feet away, before he put the book aside and turned his head straight in that direction.

There was a figure among the trees; humanoid. The Vamp was ready to attack if necessary.

The person hesitated, but realized that they had been discovered. They took another step closer and sniffed the air

A Were, Stephen realized. He stood up to signal the man to not move any closer. He wanted to know who stood before him.

The Were seemed confused by Stephen’s presence and also wary. The sorcerer could now clearly identify him as male. He wore a full beard and shaggy, shoulder-length hair that gave him a wild appearance. He looked way more the classic werewolf than Tony in his suits and perfectly styled hair.

The Were said something in a language Stephen didn't understand.

“Do you speak English? नेपाली? Deutsch?” he asked, offering various languages, in which he was at least partially fluent.

“Did you move here?” The Were had a thick accent and Stephen needed a second to actually understand him.

“No, we merely rented the house for some time.”

He could see the man thinking about who ‘we’ could be. He continued to eye Stephen. "You are not the Were I smell here all around, are you?"

He did not mention with a word whether he found it strange that the sorcerer seemed to have no smell at all.

“That would be my companion.”

“Can I talk to him?”

Stephen nodded. He stepped to the front door and opened it without ever turning his back to the stranger.

The cabin was in the outback, but apparently not far away enough from another pack to notice their visit.

“Tony,” he called inside, knowing the fine ears of the engineer would hear him. “We have a guest who wants to speak to you.”

The delayed answer came in a sleepy voice. But at least it confirmed that the engineer was back in human form. “Who is it?”

“For all I know it could be your long lost cousin or something like that.” It was a sneaky way to inform him that their visitor was a werewolf.

Genius that Tony was, he understood immediately.

“Fuck, wait… I’m coming.”

There was a series of noises, before Tony came rushing outside. Stephen stared at him. He was wearing only boxers and Stephen’s shirt from yesterday. Did the Were sleep in his bed?

His brain short-circled for a second there, too busy ogling the toned legs – lots of skin in general – to notice Tony came to a halt in front of him, shielding him from the foreign werewolf. His stand was wide, not quite threatening but definitely with authority.

“Yes?”

The other Were shifted his feet but didn’t back away. “Do you know Marvan?” he asked in that same accent as before.

“I do.” Tony eyed the man. And then he surprised Stephen again by switching into what sounded not quite like Russian.

They exchanged a few words while slowly approaching each other. Stephen watched the two Weres in case he had to intervene, but their tone was surprisingly calm. They seemed to trade some questions and answers.

Still, Stephen saw Tony’s tense shoulders and stance; It was the opposite of being relaxed. He wouldn’t be surprised if they shifted any moment to circle each other.

But after a few minutes, they seemed to come to an agreement. Because both men nodded, now with friendlier expressions, and shook hands. Then the stranger said goodbye and left.

Tony waited until he was out of sight before turning back to the sorcerer.

Stephen's eyes were still on the Were's mostly bare legs. Or maybe again. He found it hard to think and make those little distinctions at the moment. It took a while to realize that he was being watched and his gaze moved up to Tony's face.

Their eyes met.

Tony was still surrounded by a mixture of his own and Stephen's scent. Stephen's focus was zooming in on the engineer's neck where he perceived the beating of a pulse. He licked his lips.

Then Tony moved and before Stephen knew it, he was kissing him.

It took his mind a second to catch up, but then he reciprocated with equal vigor.

The Were was chasing his tongue, marking his territory.

His breath was hot on Stephen’s lips. “We’re invited to a barbecue tomorrow night. We don’t have to go but it would be rude to miss it.”

Before Stephen's brain was able to form a cohesive thought, his mouth was already occupied by another kiss.

“Is it a Were thing?” he still managed to ask.

Tony nodded. His fingers had snuck under Stephen's shirt and were resting on his hip. “I can go alone if you don’t want to.”

That made Stephen pause and stare at him with his intense blue eyes, his pupils slowly getting back into focus.

There were so many reasons why this suggestion was wrong on so many levels. First off, they were on a foreign continent.

Secondly, they didn’t know the other Weres.

Sure, they were neighbors of a friend and maybe it was a pack thing. But still, Stephen would never let Tony go to them alone.

“I’m accompanying you,” he therefore clarified.

“Fuck, you’re great,” Tony muttered. He didn’t kiss the Vamp yet again, but his hands were everywhere, on his arms, his shoulders, exploring while his mind screamed ‘mine!’.

He realized that he was getting handy and forced himself to keep a little distance – or at least to withdraw his fingers. He didn't want to overwhelm the vampire who normally was rather reserved with physical contact. He was pleased that earlier Stephen had not only not flinched from his kiss attack, but had even reproduced it.

He was pretty sure he was buzzing with pheromones and energy at the moment.

Tony had just taken a nap after being on his feet for a whole day and a night but he felt restless again. This time the unexpected visit from the other Were was the main reason.

The area didn't feel as vast and endless as it had a few hours earlier. Sure, those neighbors were several miles and thus a good distance away, but Tony couldn't help but feel like his territories had been invaded.

Even if the guy stayed polite, Tony felt the need to check the borders, to check if the other Were truly left.

Stephen studied him, silently watching his every twitch. “Do you want to go running again?”

Tony closed his eyes, tried to calm down. He knew if he got too restless, it would affect the Vamp and he didn’t want to bother Stephen even more when his emotions were already all over the place.

“Kinda, but it can wait until sunrise,” he sighed.

Also, he didn't want to leave Stephen alone. On the one hand, because he liked the company. For another, because his protective instinct kicked in. Rationally, he knew the vampire was strong enough to stand up on his own, but his wolf brain yelled: protect!

Shit, he really was in deep.

He needed to notch it down.

Well, Tony never did anything half-assed.

“We could go on a walk if that would help you,” Stephen offered.

Tony thought it would also help him do more kissing.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he said instead.

_______________________________

Tag list: @jekyllhydetrash @goopierthenyou Tell me if you wanna be added/removed

#ironstrange #doctor strange #tony stark #Vampire Stephen Strange #Werewolf Tony Stark #stephen strange #marvel #mcu #strangeiron #The Vamp and the Were #spacemermaid writes

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thesparklingwriter · 2 years

Text

a matter of sickness

'Archons don't get sick, and neither do dragons...'

tags: fem!reader pet names, Zhongli is very pure, soft Zhongli, fem!reader, Zhongli and reader are in a relationship, reader is ill, Zhongli does not know what to do with himself, fluff no plot, author is still very tired

masterlist | ao3 link | taglist | next

please do not repost or edit my work without credit. reblogs are greatly appreciated!

i'm also taking ideas for the rest of the flufftober days, feel free to leave any suggestions in my asks, no matter how self-indulgent they may be

Zhongli has limited experience with illness. Archons don't get sick, and neither do dragons.

However, his pretty human wife does, and he doesn't know how to handle that. Especially when, for some reason, you don't understand that you need to rest.

"Li, please!" you complain between coughs. "I'm fine, really. There's no need for any of this."

He ignores you, propping you up with yet another pillow. He's had no sleep, concerned that your condition had worsened every time you tumbled into a fit of coughs in the middle of the night. He's tired, and therefore cranky, and he's desperate to somehow make you well again. Having a sick wife is putting a type of tension on his shoulders that he has never experienced before.

"If you won't rest, at the very least, stop protesting so you can give your throat a rest." He says curtly, though one look at you has him taking back every word. You're not used to Zhongli being harsh with you and no matter the cause, it always leaves you on the verge of tears. Noticing your reaction, he sits on the bed beside you and strokes your hair. "I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

You sniff, staring at him with wide, bloodshot eyes. You're exhausted and emotionally fragile as a result of the night of no sleep. You lift your arms so he can pull you into a hug. "It's okay."

"I'm not used to those around me being unwell. I sincerely apologise." you nod into his shoulder, a stray tear escaping, despite the fact he's already apologised. "Please drink some tea."

The first thing Zhongli did when sunlight hit the window was going straight to Dr Baizhu. Mainly because he didn't think he could endure another night of fearing for his wife’s life. After explaining your illness to him, Dr Baizhu laughed at Zhongli.

"You seem to be getting soft," he marvelled. "All for a human."

Zhongli really didn’t appreciate that. He was already stressed since you were on the mountain alone, and now he was being ridiculed by the doctor. He bit back his complaint, grit his teeth and waited for a prescription.

"She just has a common cold. She'll be better in a day or two, provided she rests and drinks lots of fluids. This should help with the coughing." Dr Baizhu said, passing Zhongli a box of tea bags. He thanked the doctor dutifully, not that he truly believed that he had been much help, and ran back home to you, praying you hadn't noticed the fact he was missing. You had.

That was the start of everything going downhill. You'd panicked because you thought something had happened to him, and had worked yourself up, he was tired and annoyed by Dr Baizhu's comments, and the panic in your eyes when you saw him made him regret leaving.

“Li, it’s too hot. It hurts,” you whisper, pushing the cup of tea back to him.

“My love, you have to at least try for me.” He replies, If he could magically make the drink colder for you, he would do it in a heartbeat. But he can't, so he settles for blowing on the drink for you.

You shake your head no, and Zhongli knows better than to scold you again. As tired as he is, he doesn't think he can cope with making you cry again.

"I'm cold," you whine again.

"Maybe you should drink your tea," Zhongli quips. It's been a particularly hot summer, so he'd put the majority of the thicker covers in the closet to keep them out of the way. He pulls out the warmest one he can find, and drapes it over you. You thank him gratefully, but continue to insist that you will not be drinking the tea if it continues to be hotter than the archipelagos in mid-summer at midday. Zhongli laughs at your dedication to your metaphor.

"Are you always so mean to sick people?" You ask. Zhongli sits in bed next to you, and wraps his arms around your shivering body. You feel yourself warming up immediately.

"I'm not accustomed to people who are ill, so I can't answer that question," he says. "Archons don't usually experience human ailments. The only other possibility is corruption, but recovery from that is rare. Especially if it's from the Abyss."

You scowl. "Let's not talk about the Abyss. One of their men gave me this dumb cold. I should have killed him on sight instead of trying to not engage him." You’re not often this open about how you feel about your experiences in combat, so Zhongli supposes that being ill lends itself to callousness.

"You tried to spare a Fatui? How gracious of you." Zhongli marvels. He can't keep up with your moods. Sometimes you seem to want death to each and every single one of them, other times, you're happy to just let them be. You cough.

"Never again. They can all die.”

“Even Childe?” Zhongli teases.

“Don’t talk to me about him. He can die too, for making you do the Fatui’s dirty work.” You move closer to Zhongli, if that’s even possible, another chill running through you. “See? Now I’m getting shivers.”

He laughs, and you feel him shift into his slightly less human form, just as you hoped. He’s much warmer this way—almost as if the sheer power of his archon form radiates heat. Plus, there’s more of him to wrap around you like this. For some reason, his tougher skin somehow feels like velvet against yours, and the tickle of his hair is familiar and soothing. Never has a person ever felt more like home to you.

“I cannot keep up with your mood swings.” He chuckles. “If I keep you here like this for at least another hour, will you drink the tea then?”

“No.” You reply. You’re nothing if not open and honest, and Zhongli appreciates that. His contracts mean that he has to keep quiet about a great manner of things, but that fact that you have no such problems is of great joy to him. He always knows what’s running through your mind.

When the hour is up, and he feels like the period of resting—as well as releasing his archon form—has rejuvenated him sufficiently, he slide outs of your arms and heads off to the kitchen. Your next complaint, other than being cold or in pain, will most likely be that you’re hungry. You’ll never accept anything unless he’s made it or it came from Wanmin, and Celestial help him if you wake up without him again. He’s barely in the kitchen for five minutes before you come staggering along, barely even awake and dragging your feet across the tiled floor. You press yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around his waist. If he’s surprised by your presence, or how clammy you are to the touch, he doesn’t mention it.

“I need you,” You’re not ashamed by your lack of tact.

Zhongli chuckles. “You have a heater and a blanket in there. I am sure you’ll be fine on your own for half an hour, love.”

“No,” You complain. “Not like that.”

He turns to face you. As much as he loves hearing that he’s as indisposable to you as you are to him, he’s not falling for your antics. He notes that being ill makes you blood-thirsty and boosts your libido somehow. What a strange combination.

“You are sick, and you’re supposed to be resting. It’s a no.” He kisses your forehead to soften the blow of the rejection. It doesn’t work.

“Please?”

“No.”

You huff, and plonk yourself on a dining table chair. “Your wife is sick and you won’t even do the bare minimum to make her less miserable.”

“No no,” Zhongli laughs. “Let’s not go there, hm? You’ve rejected every single attempt I’ve made to lessen your pain.”

“I never asked for those attempts.” You reply indignantly.

“Okay, how about we make a deal? You rest that pretty mouth of yours while I make you something to eat, and when you return to your usual health we can hunt some Fatui down and make them regret making you ill. Is that satisfactory?”

You smile then, the disappointment that his proposal was a slight deviation from what you really wanted disappearing. You loved beating the Fatui to a crisp. Especially when it was a revenge mission.

a/n: can you tell i like brat tamers or is it not clear yet

#zhongli #flufftober #zhongli fluff #zhongli flufftober #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli fanfic #my beloved <3 #i like zhongli a healthy #normal amount #tswzhongliflufftober #minors dni #[🚨]—restricted fiction

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