#day 04

[pellucid-constellations]

angstober (2)

Prompt: "I want to believe you"

Pairing: college!athlete bucky x reader

A/n: This is the day four prompt so that I'm sorta following the timeline 😅 Enjoy more angst ♡

~~~

He was staring at you, eyes beseeching you for an ending you had no ability to provide. The phone—the awful, wretched thing—was still pressed to the skin of your hand, burning your fingers as the screen dimmed. You shouldn’t have looked. She had just gotten to you, riled you up enough yesterday to make you concerned. 

“That’s not… it’s not—baby,” Bucky stressed. He had just woken up. His hair was endearingly messy, a big sweater shifting along his shoulders. If you weren’t so upset it would have had your heart melting. 

“You told me it was nothing. That she was nothing,” you breathed out, pain lacing your throat as you spoke. 

“It—she is! I don’t know what you’re seeing on there, but it’s not true.” 

You bit into your bottom lip in an attempt to quell the onslaught of tears prying at your eyes. Bucky took a step towards you, cautious. You were in the doorway, he was in the bedroom. If you wanted to leave there was nothing stopping you. 

“I want to believe you,” you choked out. “But I can’t. There is no other explanation for this, Bucky.” 

Why you were being kind, you had no idea. You should be angry, enraged. Furious. But more than any of that, you were miserable. This man you were besotted by, his brow twisted into an uncomfortable shape, his eyes flickering with panic, he was all you had considered. It was a lot to put that on a college relationship, but there was no one else. 

Bucky was so gentle with you. There was no one else in the world that knew how to kiss you right. No one that held you under the harsh lights of football stadiums and let you press your nose to their neck to warm it on those fall nights. There was no one able to distract you the way he did in the library, eyes boring into the side of your face without fail, smile small and private and years in the making. 

There was no one that could have hurt you this much. 

“What’re you seeing?” he asked, a rasp to his voice. The words were so small. 

It was cruel to make you read it aloud, to make you look at the pictures again, but you did anyway. “I’m seeing your ex-girlfriend's nudes plastered all over your phone. I’m seeing her text from last night—‘can’t wait to do that again,’” your voice broke, tears stinging your eyes. “I can’t believe you. You said… you said—” 

You couldn’t finish. It didn’t matter what Bucky had said—that he’d spun pretty words and promised you things that were impossible now. Your breathing was shallow as you flung his phone at the bed. 

He was quick to grab it, head shaking as he scrolled through everything you’d already seen. “No,” he whispered. “No, this isn’t—sweetheart, I would never do anything like this. Not to you.” 

You laughed, the sound wet and sardonic. “Well, you did. There’s no use acting like this, Bucky.” 

It had been risky with Bucky, at the beginning. College athletes were always risky. You had pulled away after the first date, assuming that was it; it had been fun, but there was nothing else he could have possibly wanted. But then he'd asked you on another. And another. The relationship has snowballed into something unexpected. You went somewhere and he followed. He called you every night and you brought him dinner after every game. 

This wasn’t something you had expected. Maybe a few years ago, but not now. This was unfair. It was agonizing. 

Bucky threw the phone back down without a second glance at where it landed. He took long steps to meet you in the doorway, and even though you knew it wasn’t smart, you let him hold you. He pressed his forehead to yours, your wet cheeks brushing his, his eyes boring into yours. 

This would be the last time. 

“Listen to me,” he spoke, more determined than you had ever heard him. “I don’t have an explanation, I only have the truth I got, baby. I don’t know how any of that shit got on my phone or whatever she’s talking about. You know she’s been on one lately. You gotta believe me.” 

A forlorn cry left your lips. Bucky was talking to you, but you were more concerned with the way he felt as he held you. 

This would be the last time. 

“You hearing me?” he asked, shifting to meet your gaze as it flew down to the floor. “Please, you gotta believe me. I love you so much, baby. Only you. There’s no one else in this goddamn world I would give that up for. After college, we're gonna go away, okay? Wherever I get drafted I’m taking you with me.” 

Everyone had told you you were being dumb. That athletes wander. That they have millions of options and you were just the pick of the moment. You had defended Bucky to no end. How idiotic. How unfair. 

A kiss pressed to your forehead, firm and steady from the way he held the sides of your head. Desperate. 

This would be the last time. 

“Say something. Anything. Please.”

“Goodbye, Bucky,” you whispered.

Later, much later, you’d learn that there were never any lies between the two of you. You’d learn that Bucky couldn’t explain because there was nothing he’d done. Getting someone’s phone was easy when they left it in a locker room all night. When they raced home to their girl after practice without a second glance at the thing. 

But later wasn’t now. And now, you were gone. 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #angstober 2023 #day 04 #bucky barnes drabble

[friendly-neighborhood-imbecille]

Day 04. Box & Staff

Scythes and staffs are similar enough right?

Used @letswonderspirit’s clown danny design for this

#danny phantom #danny fenton #my art #Ectoberhaunt22 #EH Chaos #Day 04 #Staff #clown danny phantom

[221beloved]

Brief warning:

Mentions of past drug use, violence and... things that lead to bad dreams.

"I want to believe you"

Exiting his bedroom in the morning, Sherlock rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. He'd never had nightmares before. But now, how couldn't he? He dreamed about falling, falling and falling, with nothing but bare tarmac as destination. He dreamed about cold and lonely nights in the dark, hunts through the forest, about aiming a gun at humans, about being tortured. He dreamed about John, hating him, beating him, wishing he would've stayed dead. He dreamed about being shot by a woman in a white dress, about the same woman lying dead in front of him. He dreamed about John. How was he supposed to sleep through the night?

As he entered the kitchen, he found John sitting at the table, reading the papers, a cup of tea to his left. Sherlock froze and stared at John, bewilderment radiating from him. John looked up. “Hi,” he smiled a little sheepishly. “Thought I would drop by, it's been a long time...” Sherlock just nodded. “Rosie is with Mrs Hudson, they both seemed very happy to see each other again.” Sherlock thought about his own desperate wish to see little Watson again, to follow the rising of intelligence in her deep blue eyes, to see her smile, to hear her unintelligible babbling, the little outbursts of first English words, but John was still reluctant to bring her up. He nodded again and made his way to the counter to finally get his tea, when John's hand suddenly grasped his wrist. “Sherlock?” John looked concerned, but it was nothing like the concern he displayed before. Before the nightmares began. “Are you alright, Sherlock?”

Sherlock pulled his hand from John's grasp and continued his way. “Yes John, I'm fine.” While filling the kettle and pulling out a bag of tea, he could still feel Johns eyes on him. “Are you sure?” John confirmed this just a few moments later. Sherlock sighed, but didn't turn to John. “Yes, I'm fine. Perfectly fine.” He could hear the scrape of the chair as John came to his feet. “You don't seem so,” he pressed further. Sherlock leaned on the counter and closed his eyes. “Just a bit tired, that's all.” John huffed a laugh. “You are never tired, Sherlock. Even when you are seconds from passing out, you never say you're tired!” Maybe before, Sherlock thought. Maybe that was the case, before. Before he flung himself from a rooftop. But John interrupted his thoughts. “Have you taken something?”

The words struck Sherlock like a blow. He swallowed and took a deep breath. “No,” he said without looking up. “Sherlock, look at me, have you, taken something?” John's voice was grave and urgent. Slowly, Sherlock lifted his head. “No, I have not taken something, I thought we -” but John interrupted him yet again, his restraint fading, his temper rising. “Did you look in the mirror today? Your eyes are red, your shadows could be tattoos, your cheeks are hollow and -”

“I told you, I am clean!” Sherlock tried to break Johns accusations, but he just looked Sherlock up and down and motioned at his hands. “You're trembling,” he pointed out, as if this was the final proof. Sherlock felt something snap and all his fuses blow, his resignation and frustration morphing into burning fury and he turned to glare at John. “You want to see it?” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Do you want to examine me? Search for new scars of weakness and desire?” John had taken a step back due to this outburst, but now he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well?” And that was it. His vision went white in anger, as he tore his shirt off his body and threw it to the ground. He violently kicked his trousers off his legs, remaining only in his boxer briefs, breathing heavily and staring at John, daring him to come closer. John unfolded his arms and stepped in front of Sherlock, took his hand and lifted his arm, brushed his thumbs over the old scars in the crook of Sherlocks elbow. It hurt. This step, this decision of John to check his body for new scars, his decision not to trust him, not even with this, it hurt. It ached, it made him feel like his skin was ripped from his body, like he was burned alive. Now he started to shudder in earnest, he felt sick, his vision blurred and it became difficult to breathe. He took a trembling step back, away from John, disbelief and hurt washing over him. Another step back, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I... I want to believe you,” John said in a low voice. Sherlocks eyes snapped up. “Do you?” he asked, his voice hoarse but flat, cleared of every emotion. “Do you really, John? Do you really want to believe me?” In the end he couldn't prevent his tired disbelief and resignation from showing in his voice. He picked up his shirt and pyjama bottoms and turned to go back to the dark and silence of his room. “Sherlock...” John called out, his voice almost pleading. Almost. “Not -” Sherlock tried, cleared his throat. “Not now, John, please. I need some time. Just...” He took a deep breath. “Please.” John stared at him, his face displaying opposing emotions, but he said nothing more, so Sherlock turned and closed the door behind him.

Text me your tag preferences

@angstober

@holmesianlove @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @topsyturvy-turtely @safedistancefrombeingsmart @blogstandbygo @7-percent @a-victorian-girl

#angstober 2023 #day 04 #sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson

[babygirl-diaz]

Samtember Day 04: Siblings | Uncle Sam

586 Words | Rated G | @samsseptember

((I chose siblings for this prompt!))

The boat rocked from side to side with the wind as Sam sat on it with his knees brought up to his chest, staring up at the dark sky. The clouds were rolling in quickly and soon it would rain. An apt metaphor for his grief right now. 

“There you are.” 

Sam heard Sarah’s voice and looked up to find her standing on the pier with a concerned look. 

“Do you know how worried I’ve been?” She asked. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

“I just needed to be alone for a little while,” Sam shrugged. 

“And you couldn’t ask me for some privacy? Instead, you came out here in a storm, and worried me half to death?” 

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” Sam apologized but offered no other explanation. 

Sarah sighed and got into the boat. She crouched next to Sam and took his hand in her own. “I know you’re hurting, Sam. You’ve lost the love of your life. But you can’t punish yourself by coming out here and hoping that the storm would take you away.” 

Sam looked up at her and shook his head. “That’s not what I was-” 

“I’m your sister, Sam. You don’t think I know what you’re doing?” Sarah asked, giving him a sympathetic look. 

Sam hated that look. It made him feel like a wounded puppy. “He is supposed to be here, Sarah. I should have saved him!” His voice broke as he said and he could feel tears forming in his eyes again. 

“Oh, Sam.” Sarah sat down on the boat and pulled him into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Sam. I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved him. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now, but you can’t let this grief consume you. Please talk to someone. Someone who can help you through this.” 

“There you two are. I've been looking everywhere for you."

Sam looked up to find his brother-in-law, Kevin, standing on the pier. 

“The storm’s rolling in. Come on, we gotta go,” Kevin urged them. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t lose your wits. We were just coming,” Sarah told her husband and let go of Sam to stand up. 

Kevin gave her his hand, and she got onto the pier and fell right into his arms. The pair laughed and Sam’s heart ached. It made him miss Riley even more. 

He got up and got onto the pier as well, and Kevin gave him a concerned look. “You okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Sam replied, nodding. 

Kevin wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulled him close. “We got you, Sammy,” he said. “We got you.” 

“Yeah, Sam, we’re always here for you,” Sarah assured him. 

“Thanks, y’all, but I’m- I’m moving to D.C. in two weeks,” Sam told them. 

Kevin looked over at Sarah and then the two of them looked at Sam. “You sure about that?” Kevin asked. “I mean, you need your family right now.” 

“I need to be out there doing something,” Sam told them. “I can’t just stay here, hidden away. That’s not what Riley would want.” 

“RILEY would want you to take care of yourself, Sam,” Sarah told him. 

Sam sighed. “I will take care of myself.” 

“Sam-” 

Sam noticed when Kevin put a hand on Sarah’s wrist to stop her. 

“You do what you think is best, bro-in-law,” Kevin told him and squeezed his shoulders. “Besides, I hear Captain America lives there. Maybe you can get me an autograph.” 

“Yeah, like I’ll ever run into Captain America,” Sam scoffed. 

#samtember2023 #day 04 #siblings #uncle sam #sam wilson #sarah wilson #original male character #tfatws #marvel #aashnas drabble #drabble

[tourettesdog]

Ectober Day 4: Box and Staff

Title: Sleepy Time

Word Count: 5243

AO3 Link

Summary:

Danny is a very sleepy ghost boy and at this point anything qualifies as a bed.

---

What Danny wouldn’t give for just one peaceful night. One night where he could lie down, fall fast asleep, and stay asleep for a humane amount of hours. No matter how often he patrolled, it seemed there was always a ghost waiting to attack at the unholy hour of 2AM. 

The entire weekend had followed this pattern, with ghost attacks interspersed throughout the day. Skulker woke Danny up with a loud, resounding shout Friday night that had his parents up in arms. Between running Skulker a safe distance away– determined not to have another fight destroy part of the lab– and his parents chasing after, firing indiscriminately, Danny had no chance to rest that night. 

He still had traces of a bruise on his chin from that particular debacle. 

Saturday had been little better when Technus decided that their neighbor’s old sedan fit perfectly with his latest collection of tech. There were still trees blocking part of the road outside their house from the bulky machine careening down the street.

Sunday followed this same pattern, with Johnny 13 making a mad dash away from Amity Park on his motorcycle, forcing Danny to chase after him. They’d almost wound up in West Virginia by the time Danny caught him, and the lonely flight back took what little energy he had left at that point.

Danny thought he might finally get some rest when he returned to Illinois and sank into his bed– until an ectopus drifted past his bedroom window.

The ectopus hardly put up a fight, but Danny struggled to fall asleep afterwards, waking up at random intervals, tossing and turning. By the time the sun rose, Danny stared out his window with squinted eyes, groaning.

Of course he had to have school today. He already had a headache.

Danny dragged his feet through the halls of Casper High, head hung low, messy black bangs draped over his eyes as he made his way to his locker. Tucker already stood there waiting for him and gave a sympathetic ‘oof’ when Danny smacked his head against the door to his locker.

“Another bad night, then?” Tucker asked, patting Danny on the shoulder.

Danny lifted his head just high enough to smack it back against the locker with a clang.

“Ow…” he mumbled, wincing as his headache pounded.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Tucker observed.

Danny turned his head to look up at Tucker. His friend was several inches taller now, though that didn’t say much when Danny barely brushed five feet. 

“I think I slept maybe two hours all weekend,” Danny groaned. 

Tucker grimaced. “You gonna be okay, dude? You sure you can make it today?”

Danny stood up straight long enough to root through his locker and pull out the books he needed for the day. He shoved them into his backpack and fought with the zipper to close it. 

“At this rate, I’ll be lucky if I make it through our first class,” Danny grumbled, teeth gritted as he tugged harder on the zipper.

Yanking too hard, Danny accidentally ripped the zipper clean off of his bag.

Staring at the piece of shattered metal in his hand, Danny slumped back against his locker, shut his eyes, and rhythmically smacked the back of his head against it.

“Yikes, what’s eating him?” Danny heard Sam ask.

“No sleep again, and he just decimated the zipper on his bag,” Tucker said.

Sam audibly sighed. Danny felt a hand grab his arm and pull him away from his locker. 

“You get enough blows to the head without giving yourself more of them,” Sam said. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

Sam helped Danny get his bag rearranged, but there wasn’t much they could do for the zipper. They managed to strap it closed with an old cable, but it looked an absolute mess. At least the thermos wouldn’t fall out of the bag, which was frankly all that mattered to Danny. He had a spare bag at home he could swap it out with later.

Danny tried his best to stay awake during his first class, but it seemed as if the universe was conspiring against him. Danny sat by the window and the warm sunlight filtering through the blinds dragged his eyelids low. It was all he could do to resist the urge to curl up on his desk like a cat and soak in the warmth.

It didn’t help that Mr. Lancer’s history lesson droned into a monotonous lecture. Mr. Lancer usually tried to show some level of enthusiasm for what he was teaching, but it seemed even he had no interest in the particular branch of US history they were learning. That or, judging by the way he pinched at his tear ducts, he might simply have had a migraine.

Between lack of sleep, his sun-warmed desk, and the droning lecture, Danny was asleep within five minutes. 

Mercifully, Tucker noticed in time to shake him awake. Danny gave him an awkward thumbs up over his shoulder.

This proceeded to happen no less than three times, until Tucker just took to rhythmically kicking the back of Danny’s seat to keep him awake. That worked for a while, but Danny eventually still managed to slip back into a light doze.

When the bell rang, Danny startled awake, lurching as his head fell out of his hand and he tipped dangerously to the side. He jumped to his feet, as though ready to fight something, and only calmed when Tucker patted his shoulder.

“Come on, Spooky, there’s nothing to punch,” he said.

Blushing slightly, Danny gathered his mess of a bag and slung it over his shoulder. He followed Tucker to the front of the class, pausing when Mr. Lancer cleared his throat.

“Mr. Fenton, I expect you to be more alert in time for my English quiz,” he said while rubbing at his left temple.

Danny nodded his head. “Sorry, I will be,” he mumbled.

Mr. Lancer gave a firm nod and went back to reading from the book on his desk. Danny quickly sped to catch up with Tucker at the door. They met with Sam in the hall and headed for gym class. 

Danny grabbed his gym clothes and took them to the toilet stalls to change as usual. It was a hot day, easily over eighty degrees, but Danny kept his red sweatshirt on over his gym clothes. He’d rather flare his core to keep cool than go without it.

Unfortunately, flaring his core required using more energy. It was fine at first when their class walked down the field to play soccer, but Danny quickly lost steam from there. He trudged along beside Tucker, who stuck resolutely close to the slight chill Danny put off. It was a struggle to keep up the pretense of trying– though Dash helped, in an ironic way. He kept kicking the ball towards (at) Danny, and running past him close enough to knock shoulders. With him constantly engaging Danny, it at least gave the appearance of him participating. Danny could have done without the bruises to his shoulder, but at least Ms. Tetslaff wasn’t yelling at him. 

Still, by the time they headed back towards the gym, Danny wasn’t able to keep the chill of his core flared enough to stave off the heat. He leaned miserably against Sam, letting her half-drag him up the hill. She reviewed book notes for their English quiz as they walked, though Danny hardly absorbed the words.

Between Tucker keeping him awake in class, and Sam almost carrying him, Danny owed his friends big time. He wasn’t sure where he’d be without them.

Probably in a ditch somewhere.

(Asleep, that is. The dying thing had already sailed.)

Danny welcomed their lunch period with open arms, prepared to put his head down and have a well-deserved nap.

Unfortunately, a ghost had other ideas.

The timing was impressive, in all honesty. No sooner had Danny pillowed his head on his arms, sighing contently, when that sigh turned into a puff of blue mist.

The expletive he shouted drew a few stares.

It didn't take long for Danny to find the culprit. A loud crashing sound echoed from the hallway outside the cafeteria. After darting in the restroom to transform, Danny followed the noise.

He found Boxy wreaking havoc on the science department, upending what appeared to be boxes of new lab equipment. Danny watched as one of the boxes tipped upside down. It sent a large package of beakers crashing to the ground, smashing Danny's own record within seconds.

Were he better rested and thinking straight, Danny might have been able to save the rest of the supplies from destruction. Seeing as he was barely awake and squinting through bleary eyes, however, it didn't occur to Danny to catch any of the boxes when he souped the Box Ghost from the air.

The rest of the lab equipment crashed down in Boxy's absence, the sound a monstrous crescendo of shattering glass and crunching metal.

Danny noticed a teacher in the corner of the room. She stared, open-mouthed with horror at the destruction. 

As Danny awkwardly backstepped out of the room, a sheepish grin on his face, she burst into tears.

When Danny returned to the cafeteria with nine minutes to spare, he gave Sam and Tucker a dispassionate, "Don't ask," before planting his forehead on the table and passing out.

The day continued to nosedive, as it often did, with Mr. Lancer's English class.

Danny liked Mr. Lancer well enough as a teacher, but he unfortunately still believed in Danny enough to keep him on his toes. Many of the teachers no longer reprimanded him for falling asleep or missing assignments, but Mr. Lancer was determined to make Danny apply himself. It would have been touching that he cared, were it not so frustrating.

As it was, Danny stared at his English quiz, seeing double. The words blurred and morphed together, smudged through his bleary vision. It was all Danny could do to keep his drooping eyelids from shutting tight.

Tucker didn't sit behind him in this class, so there was no rhythmic chair kicking to keep Danny awake. Sam did sit beside him– and she definitely threw a pencil at him the first time his eyes snapped shut– but there wasn't much she could do discreetly during a test.

Inevitably, Danny's eyes shut tight as he leaned into his hand, propped up on his elbow. 

Danny was flying, drifting on a warm breeze. A clear sky glittered overhead, the stars turning, spinning, blinking in wavering patterns.

Flipping on his back, crossing his arms behind his head, Danny watched as the stars coalesced in a brilliant tapestry. A landscape opened up across the heavens, towering mountains and low valleys of radiant stardust.

“Mr. Fenton.”

The landscape rippled, as though caught in a rough breeze. The wind blew harshly against Danny’s face, suddenly cold.

“Mr. Fenton.”

A strong gust of wind scattered the stardust to nothing. It left the sky inky black and empty, yawning overhead– crashing down as the wind roared loudly in Danny’s ears, icy and sharp. 

Soon, all that remained was that wind. Danny tensed, searching for something– anything in the darkness that sprung up around him.

Something tapped his shoulder.

Danny shot up suddenly, his desk scraping loudly across the floor as he stood. He braced himself for a fight, but… froze when he saw Mr. Lancer staring down at him with an eyebrow raised.

Snickers broke out around him and Danny glanced to his right in time to see Sam facepalm. 

“Is there any particular reason you can’t stay awake today, Mr. Fenton?” Mr. Lancer asked, drawing Danny’s attention back to him.

Danny was now as sure as he could be that Mr. Lancer had a migraine. The bags under his eyes weren’t as dark as Danny’s, but they were deeper than usual. He kept rubbing at his temple still, almost absently.

“Sorry, Mr. Lancer,” Danny said as he awkwardly sat back down. “Just… a headache.” 

Truthfully, he did still have a headache. Probably not one as bad as Mr. Lancer’s, but Danny didn’t think that sleep deprivation was an answer his teacher would take lightly.

Glancing across the classroom, Danny could see Tucker giving him a commiserating smile, and Dash miming someone startling badly. Several classmates weren’t even watching, though. This situation happened frequently enough that it had lost some of its novelty.

Mr. Lancer sighed. “Do you need to go to the nurse’s office, Mr. Fenton?” he asked. 

Danny cringed, sinking down a little in his seat. He hadn’t been to the nurse’s office for over a year now, since the Accident, and he wasn’t about to start now over a small headache.

“N–no I think I’m good,” he said quickly. 

Mr. Lancer sighed again, shaking his head. “I’d like you to stay after class, Mr. Fenton. Please try to stay awake enough to finish your quiz until then.”

He turned and went back to his desk, saying, “Ten more minutes; use your time wisely,” to the class before he sat down.

Danny rubbed at his face in frustration, groaning as he distinctly heard Dash snicker.

By the time class ended, Danny had managed to stay awake, but he had not managed to finish the quiz. It didn’t help that he had hardly read the book assignment– The Catcher in the Rye– and his memory of Sam’s notes was vague at best. He was confident in maybe three of his answers, and certain that his incomplete essay at the end would be poorly received. 

Sam and Tucker gave Danny encouraging thumbs up as they left the room. He knew they’d both wait for him in the hall.

After tying the cable back around his backpack, Danny dragged his feet to the front of the classroom. He stood in front of Mr. Lancer’s desk, waiting for the man to address him. He was grading a stack of papers, marking them with a red pen as he went.

“How is your head feeling?” Mr. Lancer asked without looking up.

The question threw Danny off kilter. He paused, wracking his mind for suitable words. “Uh, it’s getting better. I took some ibuprofen earlier,” he said.

Danny had not taken ibuprofen earlier. He had to take three or four times the recommended dose for it to even touch his pain these days, and a small headache wasn’t worth the trouble.

Mr. Lancer gave him a nod. He made one last mark on the paper in front of him, circling a line of text near the bottom of the page, before he finally looked up.

“Is there anything else going on, Mr. Fenton?” he asked.

His green eyes bored into Danny’s, and he had the distinct feeling of being scanned. It was moments like this that reminded Danny why Jazz liked Mr. Lancer as a teacher so much. Both of them were perceptive when it came to people.

“No?” Danny started, cringing a little at the uncertain tone in his own voice. “I mean, I didn’t really sleep well last night, but… yeah.” 

He trailed off, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

Mr. Lancer looked him up and down, his eyes settling on the slight bruising he still had on his cheek.

"If there's anything troubling you at home, I am always here to listen, Daniel," he said. 

Danny shuffled uncomfortably, digging his shoe into the linoleum floor. 

“Now,” Mr. Lancer began, reaching for a folder on the far side of his desk, “I won’t give you detention this time, but if I catch you sleeping in my classroom tomorrow I won’t be so lenient. Forgo any… extracurriculars tonight and get some sleep, Mr. Fenton. Have a good evening.”

Blinking dazedly, Danny could only nod and stutter out a confused, “Y-you too– the good evening thing, that is.”

Gripping the straps of his book bag tightly, Danny hurried out the door before Mr. Lancer could change his mind.

Sam and Tucker were the only people left in the hallway. It was the end of the school day and most people had already left or carried on to after school activities. Tucker swung an arm over Danny’s shoulders as they fell into step together.

“So, when’s your detention?” Tucker asked him.

Danny snorted. For once, he was happy to have an answer for that question. “Didn’t get detention,” he said, shooting his friend a fanged grin.

Tucker gasped and ground to a stop, jostling Danny beneath his arm. “Wait, really? What did he say?”

“He just… asked what was wrong. Told me I could talk to him if something was bothering me,” he said with a shrug. “It was kind of weird–  but in a nice way.”

The trio resumed walking, turning around the corner. They passed by the science department where several staff members were still cleaning up the broken glass. Sam slowed, craning her neck to get a better look, but Danny grabbed her arm and sped up, not wanting to linger by the mess.

He had forgotten how hot it was outside. The moment they stepped out into the heat, Danny groaned. What little energy had been startled into him by his nervous interaction with Mr. Lancer had faded, sapped away by fatigue. He leaned into Tucker as they went down the school steps and towards the sidewalk.

“You really should go get some sleep, dude,” Tucker said, eyeing Danny. “You look dead on your feet.”

Sam punched him in the shoulder while Danny laughed.

“He’s right, though,” Sam said. “You always look exhausted, but this is a bit much, even for you.”

Danny groaned exasperatedly. “Tell that to the ghosts that keep floating by my bedroom window,” he said.

“What was it last night?” Tucker asked. 

“After Johnny? A fucking ectopus,” Danny said, throwing his arms up in exasperation, nearly shrugging off Tucker’s arm. “I almost would have preferred Skulker again. At least then I’d have something to take my frustration out on,” he added in a low grumble.

“With how tired you are, I don’t think fighting Skulker is the best idea right now,” Sam said. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. We heading to FentonWorks?”

“Please no,” Danny said a little too quickly. “My parents are still fixing the lab wall. I don’t think I could sleep through that racket if I tried.”

Tucker snorted. “Still? Hasn’t it been like a week?”

“Five days. Five miserable, loud days. Were you not reading my texts? Did I not complain enough?”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “In my defense, you didn’t update us on the lab wall fiasco over the weekend, so I assumed it was over.”

“I’m sorry if I was a little too busy complaining about the trio of dumbasses that is Skulker, Technus, and Johnny.  I’ll try to squeeze in loud Fenton bullshit hours next time.”

“See that you do,” Tucker said, nodding sagely.

Danny snorted, waving his arm to slap at him.

“So, where we going then?” Sam pressed. “I don’t know about you two, but I want to get out of this heat.”

They hadn’t made it very far from the school. With Danny leaning into Tucker, and no clear destination decided, they’d stopped at the corner.

Tucker made a thoughtful humming sound. “How about my place? My mom’s working and my dad shouldn’t bug us. Danny can take a nap while we play games or something.”

“Yeah, sure. Better than standing out here all day,” Sam said with a shrug.

“You’re going to play games without me?” Danny whined, doing his best attempt at puppy dog eyes (the effect probably ruined, at least somewhat, by how squinted they were).

“Yep,” Sam said, popping the ‘p’. She gave him a once-over with her arms crossed, her smile twisting into a concerned frown.

“Go transform and I’ll carry you,” she offered.

Danny perked up immediately, throwing Tucker’s arm off his shoulder. He glanced around quickly to make sure there was no one watching before darting into the tall bushes nearby. He heard Sam mutter, “That woke him up a little,” as he transformed.

As soon as the cold rings washed over him, Danny felt for his invisibility, letting it wash over in the same way. Floating back over to Sam and Tucker, he gave a quiet, “Here,” to let Sam know where he was before settling across the tops of her shoulders and spider backpack like a very large snake.

He let his spectral tail hang down one side of her neck and his arm down the other. He nestled his head on her shoulder and sighed happily. Thankfully, Danny was light enough in this form for Sam to carry him without issue.

“Just stay awake long enough for us to get to Tuck’s house. If you turn visible on me in the middle of the street, I will personally soup you,” she whispered.

“Noted.”

Danny put every last ounce of his energy into keeping his eyelids open on the walk to Tucker’s house. The gentle sway of Sam walking, paired with the heat, made for a sleepy combination. By the time they stepped over the threshold of Tucker’s house, blissfully welcomed by air conditioning, Danny had finally lost the battle against his eyelids. 

He heard Tucker gasp loudly, hissing out a frightened, “Danny!” before he felt– and heard– Sam thunder up the steps to Tucker’s bedroom. Danny opened his eyes in time to watch Tucker slam the door behind him, turning the lock.

“That was a close one,” Tucker said, pressing his ear expectantly to the door, his red beanie askew. “I think my dad’s outside– otherwise he might’ve seen the ghost who was supposed to stay invisible.”

“‘M sorry,” Danny mumbled, shutting his eyes again.

Sam sighed. Danny felt her pivot and heard her boots take a couple of steps on the wooden floor. 

“You’re hopeless when you’re tired,” she said. “How have you kept your secret this long?”

“Talent,” Danny mumbled into her shoulder.

Sam snorted. Her shoulders rose and Danny felt her hands grab him under the armpits. He kept his eyes closed, expecting her to flop him onto Tucker’s bed, but was surprised when he felt himself land inside something.

Tucker began to cackle, his laughter quickly devolving into wheezes. Danny opened his eyes and came face to face with– 

Cardboard. He was inside a box. 

Groaning, Danny rolled onto his back, brushing his white bangs out of his eyes. His tail fell the rest of the way into the box with him, curled over his stomach.

“Sam. Why am I in a box?” he asked,

It was a pretty big box, though Danny wasn’t sure why Tucker had it. Judging by the give in the bottom, it was sitting on his bed. Danny couldn’t stretch out his arms inside the thing, but he could curl up with some room to spare.

“I dunno. It just seemed funny,” Sam said, laughing. 

“What’s this thing even from?” Danny asked. “It’s a pretty nice box.”

Tucker’s face swam into view as he leaned over the box, still chuckling. He lifted his glasses, wiping away a tear.

“It’s from my new desk,” he said between chuckles. “I figured I’d keep it to store shit in. Think we could replace the thermos with one of these bad boys?”

“I want you to think for two seconds about Boxy before you seriously consider that statement,” Sam said.

Danny huffed a laugh. Rolling onto his side, he let his tail curl around him and pillowed his head on his arms. He felt the bed sink down a bit on one side and heard someone fumbling with what sounded like game controllers.

“Are you seriously comfortable in there?” Sam asked, her voice hovering just over his ear.

Danny hummed in response, nestling into his arms. It probably would be more comfortable on the bed, but he was already so tired, and the walls of the box made him feel strangely safe…

Sam laughed again, more quietly this time. He heard the telltale sounds of Tucker starting up Smash Bros., followed by him quickly lowering the volume. 

A hand fell into Danny's hair, gently scratching his scalp. In his sleepy, half-awake state, Danny was faintly aware of the contented rumble in his chest.

"Just like a cat," Danny heard Tucker snicker.

The noise of a cell phone camera going off followed.

It was the last thing Danny heard, other than the distant sounds of their game, before he fell into a fitful sleep.

~*~

Danny's mind was sluggish as he woke. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the familiar stars on his ceiling, but was surprised to see a dark room with a spinning ceiling fan instead.

Turning on his side, Danny noticed short walls surrounding him. He panicked for a moment, thinking he was trapped, before remembering he'd fallen asleep in…

A box.

A box, of all things.

Danny was still in his ghost form, and in the dark he could see that part of the box was dented. Danny could only assume he’d crushed it in his sleep. Coiling up on his tail, slipping out of a blanket Sam or Tucker must’ve thrown over him, Danny rose up like a cobra and glanced around Tucker’s bedroom. He couldn't tell what time it was, though it must’ve been well past sunset, judging by the darkness. 

Sam was nowhere to be seen, but Tucker was curled up in bed, fast asleep. At least, he was asleep– until Danny leaned too heavily on the box and it tore down the side, causing him to tumble forward and land on his friend’s legs.

Startling awake, Tucker quickly sat up, pulling his legs to his chest.

“Wha– Danny? You good?” he groggily asked, stifling a yawn.

Danny yawned as well, still feeling rather tired despite what must have been several hours of rest.

“I feel a bit better,” he said. “How long was I out? What time is it? Where’s Sam?”

Tucker rolled on his side and groped a hand across his nightstand, grabbing his glasses and phone. Both of them squinted as the phone powered on, singing their retinas with its sudden light.

“It’s almost eleven, so uhhh… seven hours or so? Sam left hours ago.”

“Ancients…” Danny muttered, rubbing his tired eyes.

A sobering thought suddenly came to mind.

“Wait, shit, I should get home, I–”

“Already taken care of,” Tucker said, yawning again. “As far as your parents are concerned, you’re sleeping over tonight. My parents don’t know, though, so try to keep it down.”

He gave a cheeky grin and Danny felt his anxiety melt away with it.

“So, are you going to keep sleeping in my box– which you totally destroyed, by the way– or do you want to actually use the bed?”

Danny glanced down at the cardboard under him. The box had certainly seen better days. It had been surprisingly comfortable while it lasted, at least.

“Bed sounds good,” Danny said wearily. “I can’t believe you let me sleep in a box.”

Tucker just laughed at that.

Danny crawled across the bed to the side closest to the wall. Tucker lifted his blanket and Danny phased his way under it. He settled down, burying his face in one of Tucker’s many pillows.

“Am I too cold like this?” he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow. “I can transform if you want.”

Danny was getting considerably better at controlling his powers. Aside from being able to maintain his form while unconscious now, he also had significantly more control over his temperature. He couldn’t necessarily make himself warm as Phantom, but he could decrease the chill he put off.

Sleeping as a ghost appealed to Danny– seeing as it meant he wouldn’t have to take off his binder– but he would transform for Tucker’s comfort if not his own. 

Tucker hummed thoughtfully. “Naw, you’re good. Just let me turn off the ceiling fan.”

He reached for something else on his nightstand, producing a tiny remote. It shut off the fan and Danny watched as the blades slowly ground to a halt.

Tucker settled back into bed, taking off his glasses, carding a hand through his curly bangs. He let loose another yawn and rolled over to look at Danny.

“You’re not hungry or anything are you? You did sleep most of the day,” he said.

Danny shook his head. He never had much of an appetite since the Accident. Sam suspected it had something to do with all of the ambient ectoplasm in Amity. 

“Just tired still,” he said. “Thanks for letting me sleep for so long, by the way.”

Tucker hummed, shutting his eyes. “You needed it,” he mumbled.

Danny certainly agreed. Those seven hours of sleep had helped, but he still felt pretty exhausted. Not every week of fighting ghosts was like this, but the ones that were dragged him down. He was only thankful for no major injuries this time around.

Snuggling deeper under the blanket, Danny wiggled his way closer to Tucker, burying his head under his friend’s chin. Tucker shifted, lifting his arm over Danny in a practiced manner, draping it over his shoulders. 

Listening to the rhythmic sound of Tucker’s breathing and the steady beat of his heart, Danny quickly found himself falling into a restful sleep. 

“G’nigh,” Tucker mumbled, hardly coherent.

Danny’s core rumbled contently in response.

~*~

Danny awoke the next day feeling, at last, actually awake. After changing into some clothes Tucker kept at his house for him, Danny slipped out of Tucker’s bedroom window and waited outside to give him a lift to school. 

He didn’t manage to replace his book bag, but dealing with the broken zipper felt considerably more manageable when well-rested. 

They met up with Sam in the hall as usual, and there was something in her grin that had him feeling nervous.

“What did you do?” Danny warily asked her.

Sam’s grin widened. She leaned against her locker, flicking through something on her phone.

“Oh, you know… just thinking about photography,” she said.

Danny paused, trying to parse out whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. Then, with dawning horror, he remembered hearing the sound of a phone camera the night before.

“You didn’t,” he said, standing up straight, eyes narrowed at Sam.

“Oh, I did.”

She tapped something on her phone and turned the screen towards him. On it was a picture of Phantom, curled up inside of a box with his tail tucked around his messy white hair.

Danny quickly made to grab for the phone, but Sam held it up high, far out of his short reach.

“Tucker has copies too, so don’t you dare,” she said with a laugh.

Danny grabbed at her shoulders, shaking her lightly. “Sam, please tell me you didn’t post that anywhere,” he said, practically begging.

Sam waved her hand dismissively. “Why post it when we can keep it all to ourselves?” she said.

“And when we can threaten to post it the next time you spill one of those ectoplasm shakes on–” 

“That was one time!” Danny interrupted Tucker with a whine.

“I can see the meme caption now,” Tucker continued dramatically, ignoring Danny’s interjection, “‘The New Box Ghost’!”

Sam snorted with laughter while Danny continued to groan, making one last, futile grab for her phone.

#ectoberhaunt22 #EH order #EH chaos #day 04 #box #staff #danny phantom #dp fanfic #phanfic #danny phantom fanfic #fanfic #dogfics #dogposts #THIS TOO WOUND UP LONGER THAN INTENDED WHICH IS WHY IT'S LATE LOL #everlasting trio #if you squint

[hummingbird-of-light]

June of Doom 2024 Day 4 (@juneofdoom)

4. “Does that hurt?”                              

| Impalement | Fracture | Punishment |

~

As she was led away from the rest of the imprisoned landing party, Christine Chapel was already aware that things were not going to end well for her.

The path led her and her captors through long corridors lit with artificial light and for the first time Christine got an impression of how huge the research center on the planet Gaduz IV actually was.

A team of scientists and doctors had beamed down from the Enterprise to the planet with the aim of helping the humanoid beings living there to develop a new vaccine.

It should have been a simple mission. The team was to help the natives, who had been members of the Federation for quite some time, while the Enterprise underwent repairs at a nearby starbase.

Too late they had realized that the research center had been taken over by rebels and the ship had already been out of range when Christine and the others realized what was going on.

"You'll never get away with it," growled the nurse, giving the two male creatures that were dragging her along an angry look.

"Oh, but we already are. The research center is ours. From here, we can pass the virus off as a vaccine and spread it across the entire planet. And then our world will finally be rid of all the wretched, frail creatures. Only the strong will survive."

One man's yellow eyes sparkled with delight as he uttered these words and his partner nodded in agreement.

It was just crazy! Chapel simply could not and would not understand how someone was capable of such a thing.

"Provided, of course, you earthlings don't try to cause any more problems." The hand holding Christine only squeezed tighter and the nurse gritted her teeth.

"Oh, I'm sorry, does that hurt?" One of the kidnappers laughed maliciously and Christine gave him a dark look. If she could move freely, she would have punched the guy in the face – hypocratic oath or not.

"I'm sure we'll make a good example of you to discourage anyone else from trying to rebel against us." The man to her left grinned with pleasure and a shiver ran down Chapel's spine.

She had protested loudly when she and the rest of the landing team had been locked up. One of the older scientists had been injured by the rebels in the process. And now she would be punished for her behavior.

The small group came to a halt in front of a door, which opened with a hiss and Christine froze.

There in the room was a metal chair, which was obviously used to hold people in place. The nurse was quickly led over to it and forced to sit down.

"I'd love to inject you with the virus to see what effect it has on humans, but I doubt it would do anything to a healthy woman like you." The taller of the two captors stepped over to a table on which all kinds of medical instruments were lying.

"But I'm quite certain that we can disfigure you in such a way that all the other prisoners will see it as a warning."

The smile on the local's face grew even wider than before as he turned to Christine, a scalpel in his hand.

"Best we start with your pretty long fingers. Anyone who resists us will never touch anything again."

Chapel's breathing quickened as she watched the alien apply the blade to her right thumb. It didn't take long for a hellish pain to fill the nurse as the metal cut first through her flesh and then through the bone.

She wanted to scream out loud, but the second kidnapper placed one of his big paws on her mouth from behind.

Finger followed finger and Christine felt hot tears running down her cheeks faster and faster. It hurt so much!

"There we have it. So ... what else?" As the last finger fell to the floor, her tormentor seemed to muse for a moment. Then he laughed. "Oh, of course! Anyone who resists us is not worthy of our sight."

Christine's eyes widened and she shook her head quickly. But it didn't help. The rebel put the scalpel aside and instead reached for a syringe filled with a dark liquid.

The next punishment was much quicker than the previous one, but no less painful.

Tears and blood mingled as Chapel screamed as loud as she could into the hand that was still on her mouth. The pain of acid burning in her eyes was unbearable and it didn't stop when her sight finally went out completely.

She heard the laughter of her captors and knew it wasn't over yet.

"Oh, I have one last thing. Anyone who resists us will never speak a word against us again."

Chapel pleaded and gasped as the paw detached itself from her mouth. But she didn't have time for big words.

Fingers grabbed her tongue and pulled it out of her mouth. And when Christine felt a cold blade touch it, she sensed that this punishment would be the last.

One cut ... then it was over.

#juneofdoom #june of doom 2024 #day 04 #whump #whump challenge #does that hurt #punishment #star trek #fanfiction #christine chapel #original alien characters #torture #blood and gore #eye mutilation #finger mutilation #major character injury #open ending #mega_whumps_characters

[feltpool]

SW calendar Day 04

#lego advent calendar 2023 #star wars #day 04 #peli motto #behind the door: festive pit droid

[areyouokaypanda]

@angstober Day 4: "I want to believe you."

#ocs #angstober2023 #day 04 #my art

[sophia-codes]

100 days of code - day 04

Hello again, today I did a little practical project in Rust, it was just a simple guessing game, where the program generates a random number from 1 to 100 and the user try to guess it (I like to guess using binary search, it's very efficient).

The program was kinda simple, but helped me a lot to understand how to use the I/O (input/output) library, how to handle errors in Rust, and some syntaxes differences from another languages.

I finally stopped procrastinating on a project that I was doing, and continued doing it. It's a project from the software engineer course I take. It's uses Docker, and basically I have to up a WordPress website, set up database and web server using containers. It's a little difficult, and I'm facing some troubles, but It's worth the effort because Docker is a very useful tool to know.

That's it, I feel like I have to find a way to reduce procrastinating during the day O_o

I'd like to share this playlist, today I studied while listening to it, if you like classical music, piano, and violins, you should try.

Also, this blog is now a codeblr certified blog!!! Look at this badge.

Hahaha, joking, this badge was made by @xiacodes (you can find it here), and it's perfect!!! This gray one fits my blog style so much. I think I'll put this badge at the end of my posts from now.

#day 04 #100 days of code #100daysofcode #codeblr #programming #progblr #studyblr #computer science #Rust #Spotify

[weilaverdui]

Angstober Day 4: I Want to Believe You

But can one ever believe a god, whose plans and thoughts are on a scale where the games are far greater than one human life?

#zhongli genshin impact #childe tartagalia #childe genshin impact #Zhongli #genshin impact #genshin fanart #digitat art #made with krita #weil draws #angstober #angstober 2023 #day 04

[angeblancrose]

EVEN FLOWERS BLOOM TO WITHER

Here's the fourth one in the TTDP series, hope you like it <3

Context: In honour of this week being “THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT” week, I'm writing a poem a day until April 19th 🤍

P.S. Don't forget to like/reblog, and please don't repost without my permission on this platform or any other social media platforms!

[ poem one here 🪶 ]

[ poem two here 🪶 ]

[ poem three here 🪶 ]

[ poem five here 🪶 ]

#taylor swift #art #my poem #original poem #poetic #poems on tumblr #THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT #TTPD #poetry #day 04 #aesthetic #swifties #light academia #colours #artists on tumblr #fear #love #unrequited love #pain #betrayal #rose #roses have thorns #friendship #heartbreak #heartbroken #heartache

[sasa-chan]

Thunderball (1965)

Starring:

Sean Connery, Claudine Auger, Adolfo Celi, Luciana Paluzzi, Rik Van Nutter, Guy Doleman

Directed By:

Terence Young

Genre:

Action/Thriller

Rating:

PG

Run Time:

2 Hours 10 Minutes

Release Date:

9 December 1965 (Tokyo, premiere)

22 December 1965 (United States)

29 December 1965 (United Kingdom)

Synopsis:

Led by one-eyed evil mastermind Emilio Largo (Adolfo Celi), the terrorist group SPECTRE hijacks two warheads from a NATO plane and threatens widespread nuclear destruction to extort 100 million pounds. The dashing Agent 007, James Bond (Sean Connery), is sent to recover the warheads from the heart of Largo's lair in the Bahamas, facing underwater attacks from sharks and men alike. He must also convince the enchanting Domino (Claudine Auger), Largo's mistress, to become a key ally.

#27 days of james bond #007 #27 days of 007 #james bond #james bond 007 #day 04 #thunderball #sean connery #claudine auger #adolfo celi #luciana paluzzi #rik van nutter #guy doleman #terence young

[lazinesswrites]

Here's chapter two of It's a tight squeeze, but I won't let go - my fill for day four of Angstober 2023: "I want to believe you."

Fic summary: It’s a weird feeling, being underwater like this. Everything sounds so… strange. Sound already acts differently underwater, moving much faster than through most air-compositions, and interacting differently with the ear. With the added barrier of transparisteel, the air inside the pod is both quiet and almost vibrating with the sounds of the water around it. It would almost be relaxing, if not for the falling debris around them and the very real possibility that they will never make it to the surface.

#Angstober2023 #day 04 #Prompt: “I want to believe you.” #underwater #claustrophobia #ao3 link #Star Wars: The Bad Batch #s1e16: Fall of Kamino #Crosshair #Hunter #TBB

[semicolonsandsimiles]

angstober/whumptober day 4: "I want to believe you."

Lion Hunters, Medraut/Turunesh, pre-canon

"I'll come back." The letter from his father crumpled, unheeded, as Medraut's fingers clenched.

Turunesh considered how many unforeseen events could happen in a year; how many more could happen in ten years, or twenty. "I want to believe you," she said quietly. She pulled gently at his fingers until the parchment fell to the floor, and slid her hand into its place.

Medraut kept his face turned away from her, fighting to maintain his composure. But his iron grip closed around her hand, and he repeated, "I'll come back."

Turunesh squeezed his hand tighter. "I'll wait for you."

#lion hunters #angstober 2023 #day 04 #my fic #coalition of lions

[blessyourhondahurley]

Saving Memories One Page at a Time

Cas takes up scrapbooking with a passion and Dean tries his best to avoid getting involved.

Suptober prompt: Wicked Flufftober prompt: Supporting Silly Quirks/Hobbies Fictober prompt: “How would that even work?” Inktober prompt: Scallop

(Read on AO3)

“Dean, would you like to help me?” Cas looks up from the kitchen table, which is currently covered with several teetering piles of crafting supplies, and offers his boyfriend a beseeching smile.

Dean has been avoiding this conversation all week.

Newly human and blessed with almost endless spare time now that Sam's hunter network covers the majority of cases in the country, Cas has been trying out some hobbies. In the past few weeks, he's knitted dozens of scarves and hats (most of which have been donated to the homeless shelter downtown). There's a new garden behind the Bunker, lush and thriving. He passed level 12,000 on Candy Crush. And he dusted off a film camera that he'd found on a back shelf of the library and used it to produce approximately a metric shit-ton of photographs. Cas has now thoroughly documented the Bunker, its inhabitants, their daily routines, their every meal, the garden and its surroundings, and just about every stray mammal in the county.

These pictures cannot simply be shoved into a shoebox like Dean had assumed, however. Oh no no. They must be lovingly preserved, a handful at a time, on acid-free paper, in themed groupings, adorned with complementary accents, borders, rubber stamps, stickers, and hand-calligraphed inspirational quotes.

In other words, Cas has gone gaga for scrapbooking. And he wants Dean to join him.

Now, never let it be said that Dean shies away from the creative and the domestic arts. Once he settled into the Bunker and let himself shake off his Dad's bullshit rules for “How a Man Should Act,” Dean dove headfirst into homemaking.

He's got a Pinterest board where he saves recipes that the whole family will eat (because you try cooking a casserole that can be enjoyed by a Meat Man, a Paleo-flexitarian, a freshly-fallen connoisseur of individual molecules, and God Himself with a four-year-old's palate). He's dabbled in interior decorating, running up their bottomless credit cards at Pottery Barn and IKEA to freshen the living areas with overstuffed couches and coordinating throw pillows. And when someone's got a ripped flannel or a pair of jeans that needs to be altered? Dean's the guy with the mad needle skillz they all turn to.

Scrapbooking, though? That feels a little too much like the sort of thing Karen from the suburbs does with her time, in between wine-soaked book club meetings with her gal pals and clandestine dalliances with the pool boy. Dean is firmly uninterested.

But Cas has been sending out increasingly loud “come join me” signals ever since he pasted his first snapshot of a sunset onto a piece of blue card stock last Tuesday. All week, whenever Dean took some downtime in the Dean Cave or popped a squat in the library, within a few minutes Cas would be at his elbow, spreading out his supplies and casting hopeful glances his way. It's become harder and harder for Dean to pretend he doesn't know what Cas wants here. Yesterday he got so desperate, he faked a wicked migraine and slunk off for a 3-hour nap. But now here he is, cornered.

“Uhhh,” Dean replies, stalling for time. “Help you... How would that even work?”

“Well, you could assist me in choosing the accent colors, or you could take over trimming the scalloped border pieces. Or you could make your own page, if you like. I can show you how!” Cas eagerly clears a space among the mounds of stationery supplies and lays out a fresh sheet. Dean knows when he's been defeated. With a sigh, he plops down on the chair next to his boyfriend.

Cas launches into a spirited tutorial on the joys and pitfalls of assembling an attractive page. Dean tries to pay attention, but he can't help it – he tunes out almost immediately. Cas is nattering on, shuffling paper around on the table, and Dean's nodding and thinking about which cars in the motor pool are due for an oil change. He's not listening to any of it, until...

Cas hands him a sheet of cowboy hat stickers. “I thought you'd enjoy these,” he says with a smile. “Oh, and also...” Cheeseburger stickers. A rubber stamp of the Metallica logo. A 4-inch die cut of a pristine black 1967 Chevy Impala.

“Holy shit,” Dean says with wonder. “Marry me.”

Cas freezes for a few seconds, then croaks, “What?”

The words had kind of slipped out of Dean's mouth, but he means them. Cas knows him better than anyone else ever has. He's thoughtful and sweet, and he wants to share his weird hobbies with Dean, and Dean loves him so goddamn much. He plucks the die cut from Cas's limp fingers and places it reverentially on the table, then takes his boyfriend's hand.

“You're awesome, and I love you. Marry me.”

Cas grins. “Yes.”

The first page they work on together commemorates their engagement. Dean puts a cowboy hat sticker on it.

#suptober22 #flufftober2022 #fictober22 #destiel #destiel fluff #day 04 #supernatural

[hummingbird-of-light]

June of Doom Day 4

4. “Does that hurt?”

| Delirium | Hypothermia | Stabilization |

TW: major character death, freezing to death, not canon compliant

~

He hated this planet. He hated it like hell!

Just why had Starfleet exiled him to Delta Vega - the end of the whole damn universe?!

Montgomery Scott was supposed to work on a starship. He was supposed to change the world, working on his transwarp beaming theory.

But just one wee mistake and he had been punished for a lifetime. And there was no hope that he'd be relieved anytime soon.

"What the- Aw man!"

The Scotsman groaned in annoyance, when he took a look at the screen. A broken radio tower, not too far from the outpost.

"Oi, wee man! We have a problem!"

Scotty wasn't alone on the planet. There was a little green alien called Keenser. He wasn't the most talkative lad, but he still was good company.

Scotty looked around, but Keenser was nowhere to be seen. He was probably taking a nap. The lad rarely got sleep.

"Fine, I can take a look myself."

He didn't need a companion to check on the tower. And if he needed help, he could still come back and get Keenser.

++++++++

It was just so cold. Scotty shivered heavily and wrapped his jacket even tighter around him.

This place was hell! And he wanted to get back to Earth where the sun was warm and bright.

But that would have to wait.

"There ye are, ye stupid radio tower," he muttered angrily, when the broken thing came into view.

Just what could have damaged it so badly?

The closer Scott got, the better he saw that something was lying on the ground.

It looked like...

"An escape pod?"

Scotty started to run as soon as he noticed just what had crashed onto the planet's surface.

It really was an escape pod! What was it doing here? And, more importantly, who was in it?

The Scotsman opened the pod and a pale human was revealed to him. Strains of raven-black hair fell into the man's unconcious face. There was a bruise on his forehead.

Scotty gently placed a hand on his shoulder and shook it.

"Hey, laddie. Ye okay there?"

The man groaned, face distorted in pain, and suddenly blue eyes snapped open and he grabbed Scott's wrist, glaring at him. His face was stern.

"Woah, careful now, I'm not yer enemy!"

Scotty winced. How could one man have such a strong grip? Who was this guy?!

"Who are you?"

The dark haired man's voice was deep and it sent a chill down Scott's spine. Still, he chose to answer the question.

"Uhm... the name's Montgomery Scott. I work on an outpost not too far away from here. And... who would ye be?"

The man's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"An outpost?" he asked and the engineer nodded.

"Aye, I'm a member of Starfleet."

Immediately, the expression on his counterpart's face darkened. His grip around Scotty's wrist tightened to the point where it hurt.

"Do you know a man called Admiral Marcus?"

The Scotsman blinked in confusion. That... was a pretty straightforward question, wasn't it?

"Aye, I do. Man helped me get into the Academy. Grumpy lad, but... a good admiral. Now... who are ye again?"

The piercing blue eyes seemed to stare right through him. Scotty shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another.

And finally he got an answer.

"My name is Khan. And that admiral you admire so much... has kidnapped and betrayed me."

Once again, Scott blinked rapidly. What the heck was this lad talking about? That was just crazy!

"Ye... hit yer head pretty hard, didn't ye? Does that hurt?"

He reached out with his free hand to touch the forehead, however, the man - Khan - reacted instantly. He grabbed Scotty's throat and pulled him close to his face.

"Do not touch me, Mr. Scott. I am far more superior than you."

The Scotsman shivered under the threatening gaze and swallowed. This man wasn't joking.

"A-alright, laddie. No need to get violent."

Scotty raised his hands in a soothing manner. He didn't want to risk his skin by provoking Khan any further.

"Where is that outpost?"

Scott glanced to his left. He really shouldn't tell this guy anything, but he had a feeling that he couldn't lie to him either. So he nodded his head toward where he had come from.

"A few miles in that direction."

Khan eyed him closely, before a smile crossed his face. However, it wasn't a friendly one. It was cold and smug.

"Thank you, Mr. Scott."

And before Scotty knew what was happening to him, he was pushed into the escape pod.

"Wha-"

He heard the door being locked from outside and only now did he notice that Khan had taken his communicator from him, too.

"Oi! Let me out!"

But the raven-haired man was already heading off to the outpost. Apparently he had no use for the Scotsman.

"Let me out!"

He banged his fists against the glass again and again, but couldn't break free. He was trapped in this escape pod!

++++++++

He didn't know how many hours had passed, but eventually hypothermia was winning the fight they fought. When his eyes closed, his only hope was that Keenser had made it out alive. If only they had gone outside together...

#juneofdoom #june of doom #day 04 #whump #whump challenge #does that hurt #hypothermia #star trek #fanfiction #montgomery scott #khan noonien singh #keenser #freezing #major character death #not canon compliant #mega_whumps_characters