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zepskies · 8 months

Note

Hello my lovely friend! I would love to see an imagine/head canon of Dean and the reader seeing each other for the first time after he either comes back from hell or purgatory if you’d be up for it 💕 up to you whether it’s an established relationship or mutual pining 😉 thank you! 😘

Hello, my dear!!

Thank you so much for this imagine! I needed a bit of Dean. 😘

Now I went with Purgatory for this one (S8, E01 – “We Need to Talk About Kevin”).

I diverged from canon of Sam not looking for Dean to make sure if he was dead. Not just because I think that choice by the SPN writers wasn’t true to Sam’s character (Even Jared has said this lol), but because I think if Dean had a girlfriend at this point in time, Sam wouldn’t just abandon her to deal with Dean’s loss alone.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Song Inspo: Yes, I had one for this! Weirdly enough, it was the entire “Moneyball” soundtrack. The whole smooth but intense pace of it really drove me on this.

Word Count: 2,200 Warnings: 18+ only for some smuttiness.

Imagine: Reuniting with Dean, not knowing if things will be the same.

You’re doing the dishes when your phone rings.

You check the caller ID, frowning when the number is unfamiliar. But you answer with a thread of wariness while you’re holding a glass.

“Hello?” you answer. For a moment, there’s silence on the line. Your brows knit together in suspicion.

For months, you’ve been living with Sam and Kevin in this dusty cabin in the woods. Literally, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. It was the only way you and Sam could try to protect the prophet from Crowley.

So the fact that you're getting a call at all is surprising in and of itself.

Your frown deepens. “Whoever this is, you have three seconds before I hang the hell up.”

“Hey…it’s me.”

Your suspicion fades, but shock overtakes you. Your breath stills in your lungs when you hear Dean’s voice. However, your brain can’t compute.

It’s been a year.

“Sweetheart, are you there?” he says.

You finally choke on a gasp, and the glass slides out of your hand and shatters in the sink.

“Hey, you okay?” his gruff concern is so very Dean that it continues to choke you into tears.

“Dean,” you utter. Your mouth trembles as your eyes close, and your tears find their own way down your cheeks. “I…I’ve been…you’re okay?”

“Well, I’m here,” he answers, with some dry humor, but he sounds off. You don’t know what to make of that, but now you’re worried.

You look down at your shaking hand, and you realize that there’s a small piece of glass that ricocheted into your palm. You ignore it, because all you can focus on is your boyfriend’s voice in your ear.

“Where…are you?” you ask. Every trembling, heave of breath brings you closer to a sob.

“Louisiana. Clayton, Louisiana,” he replies. His voice is even, but there’s emotion there too. You hear it, only because you know him so well. “Where are you?”

And how soon can you get here? his tone implies.

After Dean disappeared in the aftershock of Dick Roman’s death, you, Sam, and Kevin had been scouring every lore book on God’s green Earth. Nothing has gotten you closer to finding Dean in the last year.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to fully give up, but in recent weeks, you would never admit that your heart has been starting to falter. So has your body.

Sam watches you closely on the way out of the house, heading to the Impala. You’re grateful for the way he’s been looking out for you, but you also resent it. You don’t need help. You’re fine…mostly.

As strange as it’s been living in this house, it’s become your safety blanket. Your cold shell where you can block off the rest of the world, as if time hasn’t been ticking by all these months outside of it.

But now you’re practically shaking. Call it nerves, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, too much crap food, stress, and grief. You ignore it, taking a firm grip of the passenger door handle and yanking it open. Sam drives.

The hours are excruciating. Your leg bounces restlessly, and Sam notices, but doesn’t comment. He does try to soothe you with your favorite music in the car. He tries to pick up conversation, but you’re not having it.

You’re even being pretty selfish right now. Sam had been without his brother for a year, just as you had been without. And here he is, trying to comfort you.

You can’t help it though.

You’re not okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay again until you see him.

Sam eventually pulls into the dingy motel in the middle of rural Louisiana. (And yet, somehow on the corner of a Hustler, one of Dean’s favorite sex shops. Your lips curve slightly.)

Sam’s calling Dean on his cell, but you’re too impatient to wait for the man to come out.

You jerk the car door open, and in your haste, you don’t realize that you’ve slammed the door shut.

“Hey, easy on my Baby.”

You turn with a gasp lodged in your throat, but not even that can escape when Dean comes into view. Complete with red plaid and old jeans and rough stubble that approaches a beard, and a duffel bag.

Dean’s smirk fades into a softer grin when he takes in the familiar curve of your face, the gentle frame of your body, the sight of your tears, welling up in your eyes.

You take in a shuddering breath, and you go to him. Dean drops his bag so that he can properly welcome you where you’re supposed to be.

His arms wrap around your waist, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. He smells like motel soap and second-hand clothes, but all you care about is that he feels solid and alive and your heart’s just shy of shattering, or knitting back together. It beats a fast flutter in your chest.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he rumbles in your ear. You nod, even though you can’t help the way you’re shaking, crying, clinging to him.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You hate that those are your first words to him, but you can’t help it. That’s what you feel, down to your bones. “We tried so damn hard to find you…”

Dean pauses a bit on that, but he just shakes his head. He meets Sam’s gaze behind you and offers his brother a smile. Sam smiles back; he’s full to the brim at the sight of Dean, but for you, he’s patient. He can wait his turn.

“I know,” Dean tells you, holds you a bit tighter. “I'm all right. It’s not your fault, you understand?”

You draw another shaky breath and lean back far enough to see his face. You raise a hand to touch his cheek. When he stares down into your eyes, you know you’re going to be okay.

And so will he. You’re going to make sure of it.

In lieu of words, Dean leans down and captures whatever you might’ve said then with his lips. The kiss is heat and longing, both sweet and rough. It’s everything you need.

It’s a long drive all the way back to your cabin in the woods. Dean checks on you often while you’re passed out asleep in the backseat. He’s back in the driver’s seat of his car, hands wrapped around the familiar leather steering wheel, but he still doesn’t feel totally…right.

Despite being wrapped around the leather, his right hand feels empty. Like it needs the weight of a weapon. He’s still tense and on edge, even now, and Sam notices.

“What was it like?” he asks, quietly so he doesn’t wake you. He’s glad you’re finally sleeping.

“Purgatory?” Dean scoffs. “Like being deep in God’s freakin’ armpit.”

Sam’s brows knit together, but he waits, seeing if Dean will continue. And he does, after giving Sam a brief glance.

“It was monsters, Sam.” A never-ending twilight. Never a moment to rest. A wide-eyed existence of gnashing teeth and blood and black ooze.

When Sam inevitably asks how he got out of Purgatory, Dean is vague, evasive. Castiel didn’t make it, he admits, also in halting detail. But Dean is more willing to focus on how tired you and Sam both look. How pale your skin is. How it seems like this is the first hour of sleep you’ve gotten all week.

“How’s she been?” Dean asks, once again checking on you through the rearview mirror. Sam inhales deeply, making Dean frown.

“She’s been holding on,” Sam replies. “Strong, for Kevin especially. Poor kid’s too scared to go outside half the time.”

Dean turns to him with a frown.

“You’ve been taking care of her, right?” he asks.

Sam huffs, with a wry smile. “When she let me.”

Dean quirks a bit of a smile. That sounded like you. Stubborn at your best, damn near impossible at your worst. But the latter is what he’s worried about.

He later carries you inside the cabin, acknowledging your sleepy mumbles that you can walk, but not actually heeding your words. Sam tells him which one is your room, and Dean carries you there. By then you’re awake, but resigned to the fact that he isn’t going to let you down.

Your hand smooths up his arm, up the back of his neck and into his hair. It makes a pleasant tingle run up his spine.

“Your hair’s gotten long,” you muse, sorting your fingers through the strands. His hair’s darker too, not quite so dirty blonde, now leaning closer to light brown.

Dean smiles a bit. “If that’s all that’s changed, then I’d say I’m in good shape.”

He lays you down on the bed, and you bring him down with you by grabbing onto the front of his gray undershirt. He sinks down onto the edge of the bed and drifts a hand from your arm, to your face. He refreshes his memory of every angle, the soft feel of your skin. He knows his hands are rougher, but you feel the same.

You draw him into you and it begins.

Kissing him feels like taking a much needed breath. The way he grips your arms when you lick sensuously into his mouth—a sudden squeeze, an iron hold—it ignites your blood and the fire in your lower belly.

Your fingers rake into his hair. His solid grip moves to your hips, and you lie back when he guides you onto the mattress.

The sound of your breaths mingling together become shallow as you shove the plaid off his shoulders and ruck up the shirt. He does the same for your shirt and jeans, followed by his own. All that’s left it his skin against yours and rough hands squeezing fingerprint bruises into your hips and thighs.

You don’t mind at first; the strength of his hold and how much he wants you spurs you on. You’re slick and pulsing with need when Dean eventually slides home inside you. He has a hand tight in your hair, gripping tighter as he begins to move hard and fast.

“Dean,” you pant. You moan on his name, but you’re also trying to get his attention. You wince as his hand tightens, both in your hair, trapped against the pillow, and on your hip. You hold onto his wrist.

“Ease up, baby,” you whisper. You don’t want Sam or Kevin to hear you, even though you’re sure they could guess what you and Dean are up to.

But Dean doesn’t seem to hear you at first. You look up into his eyes, and you’re not sure if he’s entirely seeing you. It’s not like him, and it triggers warning signals in your mind. You have to wrap your legs tightly around his hips, squeezing his wrist even harder to stop him for a moment.

“Dean,” you insist. And he finally sees you.

When you soothe a thumb against his wrist, his eyes widen. He releases his hand from your hair, bracing against the bed instead.

He frees the other hand from your hip, and he sees the shape of his fingers already forming in your skin. He knows his hold was tight enough to bruise down to the bone.

It’s happened before, but not like this. Dean’s never lost control like that. Not with you, even in times like these.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he catches his breath, frowning deeply. His green eyes meet yours, raw and guilty. “I uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head at him with a thoughtful frown. You reach up to frame his face with both hands, and you wordlessly tug him down to you. Dean is somewhat reluctant, but he follows your guiding hands and meets your waiting kiss, tender and slow.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats against your lips. His voice is low and coarse, filled with the true depths of his emotions. Everything he's been trying to hide from you.

Your eyes sting with the threat of tears.

“It’s okay,” you reply, through sweeter kisses. “I love you. We're gonna be okay.”

He hesitates. Then, he nods, accepting your words and your warmth.

His hand slowly brushes against your thigh, soothing along your bruising skin. You still have your legs wrapped around his hips, but you lessen your own hold, now that he seems to have come back to himself.

You both realize then that it might not be okay for a while. But that too is all right. Because you’re nothing if not stubborn, and Dean is worth the challenge.

He closes his eyes to breathe and center himself. They blink open at the feeling of your hand, insistent on his shoulder. Your face is both tenderness and determination.

You push against him and twist until he's the one on his back, on the bed, holding your hips, the two of you still joined. He looks up at you still with a measure of reluctance.

"I've got you this time," you tell him, stroking his cheek. His almost-beard prickles against your palm.

After a moment, you can see in his eyes that he believes you.

And you begin again.

AN: Gaaaah, this man. I'm weak every time I write about him. 🥲

I have another Dean imagine coming soon. Some special anon asked for the reverse of "Sam being in love with Dean's girlfriend."

So stay tuned for "Dean gives you an impossible choice." 😉

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#ask me stuff #reuniting with Dean #Dean back from Purgatory #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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ervotica · 3 months

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liam mairi x reader where he literally loses it during the torture chamber over seeing her hurt

pairing; liam mairi x fem!reader

warnings; torture lol, graphic depictions of violence and injury, liam is a little unhinged (as much as a golden retriever can be) and also the best bf ever. also xaddy makes an appearance <3

a/n; for argument's sake, liam is alive and well (also for my sake bc he's my baby and i adore him) this is a little different to the plot in the books as liam isn't *technically* there during the torture chamber scene, so this diverts from the original plot. this is gonna get like 4 whole notes but idgaf because liam is taking up my entire mind atm i just want that boy to smother me in love and i can kiss his perfect face<3

Knuckles crack against the already swollen expanse of your jaw and your neck whips sideways awkwardly as blood fills your gasping mouth. Your ears ring, vision beginning to blur and blacken at the edges as Liam roars.

You can't see him for the soldiers crowding your line of vision, but the guttural sound that rips its way from his throat is unlike anything you've ever heard before. It's raw, full of untethered fury that no one would expect from a kind soul like Liam. But, then again, no one's seen the lengths he will go to to keep you safe.

"I'm fine, Li," you murmur, neck cracking as you wrench your head upright to reassure him. The swarm of bodies part somewhat, and they back against the wall; you watch him thrash against the restraints, teeth bared like a predator; it's a stark juxtaposition to his usual - docile - countenance.

“Touch her again and I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill all of you!” he bellows, voice permeating the otherwise relatively silent chamber. It cuts through you like glass, and you wince as another blow collides with your cheekbone. You feel it shatter, growling through grit teeth at your attacker.

“You have all the power here,” he croons. “Tell us what we need to know, and I’ll let you go.”

“Fuck you,” you seethe. “You really think I’ll break that easily?”

He cracks his knuckles slowly, one by one echoing through the empty room as he paces, his head tilting curiously as though he's enraptured by your resilience. “No. But he will.”

Your nostrils flare, eyes darting to where Liam’s still struggling to break himself free. His eyes are dark, cerulean replaced with black onyx as the rage consumes him.

“You underestimate us,” you say simply; your chin juts out indignantly. “We’re not telling you shit.”

Your ribs are next to break with a sickening crunch, and when you scream, the sharp yell of your boyfriend takes up all the space left in your brain. It's all you hear, all you can decipher through the thick cotton wadded into your ears, the only thing you can manage past the searing flames that set your body alight with agony. Your lids start to droop, lips parting to croak something indiscernible; and Liam's begging, pleading with you to stay conscious, but even as you gaze up at him through sticky, tear-soaked lashes, the darkness wraps its cruel fingers around your throat and you can't fend it off.

You don't know how many days it's been when your eyes peel open, glued shut with sleep. Every nerve ending in your body ignites, set aflame with pure, unrelenting excruciation. Your chest heaves and the movement triggers another cataclysmic inferno; a sob claws its way from your throat almost involuntarily, your body relying purely on survival instincts.

Xaden's standing over you in an instant, a warm palm cradled against the curve of your jaw to keep you still when you shout and thrash, trying to rid yourself of the unyielding pain that courses through your veins like liquid fire.

"Shh, shh." He's doing his best to placate you, but you're manic, eyes wide and frantic as you attempt to orientate yourself in the room.

"Liam," you croak. "Where's Liam?"

"He's okay. He's fine. I need you to stay calm, okay?" A tear slips past your clogged waterline and runs over Xaden's knuckle, his thumb following its downward path to brush it away.

"I want Liam," you wheeze, a pain that transcends physicality blooming into your aching chest. "Please."

There's a scuffle and a flash of blonde before Liam is crouching at your side, a thick fingered hand anchoring against the top of your head.

"I'm right here, my girl. You didn't think I'd leave you alone, did you?"

You shake your head vehemently despite the throbbing in your temples, your own fingers looping around his wrist to keep him close, to keep him touching you.

"It hurts, Li," you whimper, and it's the first sign of true weakness he's seen you expose in this long, painful week. You're safe to fall apart now, safe with the knowledge that he'll help you put yourself back together.

"I know. We just need to get you fixed up and you'll feel better."

He tips forward on his toes to press his cheek to yours, and the warmth of his breath tickles at the shell of your ear. His face turns, nose squishing into the soft flesh of your cheek, lips puckered in a kiss against the corner of your mouth. You feel the scab, long dried over, and the groove in his lip where it's split; when he tilts his head sideways to watch you, your eyes fix on it.

"You're hurt," you sniffle. "It's my fault."

"Oh, this old thing?" He waves you off, flippant as the tip of his finger prods at the dried skin. "Doesn't even hurt, angel. Don't you worry about me."

"I do worry about you."

You use the little strength you have left to turn on your side, tuning out Liam's abrupt protests until there'e enough room for two on the bed. He knows what you want from no more than a pleading glance.

"I can't-" he starts, and the complaints die in his throat when your fingers dig into the worn fabric of his uniform.

"I need you," you admit. His shoulders slouch in defeat.

"You promise to go to sleep?"

He lifts your tender body, propping you against a muscular forearm as he slides beneath you, and settling you between two thick thighs, your back to his chest. His warmth seeps into your pores and he feels you sag, only succumbing to the exhaustion now you know he's safe.

Fingernails scratch at your scalp and dimples crater into the centre of his cheeks when your head tilts to nuzzle deeper into the touch. The flaring pain resides to a dull - but manageable - ache.

"I'm tired," you say, muffled.

"I know, my girl." You don't miss the thrum of his pulse, the way it picks up when he catches sight of the deep bruises that mar your skin, the swelling from broken bones. He's angry.

And he's going to make them pay for this.

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wormswurld · 3 months

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rewatched saltburn for the 5th time today so here are my rewatch thoughts! 🌟

- opening shot ollie is smoking a cigarette meaning that after all these years of felix being dead he still holds onto the habit felix bestowed upon him: smoking. (there will always be traces of felix catton throughout ollie’s life…)

- ollie saying how exhausted felix was cuz of how often he was chased and adored by ppl is literally just him projecting & being annoyed that felix wasn’t his from the beginning

- “but was i “in love” with him?” yes. yes you were. yes you are. yes.

- ollie looking like such a fucking nerd when arriving at oxford. like boy if you don’t take THAT DAMN SCARF OFF i swear to god

- ollie looks so good with glasses ughhhhhhh

- the way ollie says “meryside” 🤤

- i will never get over farleigh’s voice like it’s so perfect

- as much as i hate michael gavey i will always quote his “NFI me and you…not fucking invited” line

- ollie is rizzing the shit out of felix with his blue eyes during the bike scene and i’ll always respect him for that

- the way farleigh says “jägerbombs!” is so satisfying

- i love ollie’s slutty little chain he wears

- felix amica. felix amica. felix amica. felix amica. felix amica. felix amica.

- ollie & felix look so happy dancing together 😭

- felix having his hand on ollie’s thigh as he does eenie meanie makes my brain short circuit

- “was it awful?” my god felix really is like elspeth

- this modern love playing as ollie finds felix at the pub surrounded by all his friends and the lyrics that play are “what are you holding out for? what’s always in the way?” UGH.

- felix being the first person ollie sees when he comes out of the exams 😭😭😭

- felix could have so kissed ollie during the bridge confession scene

- duncan scaring the shit out of ollie when he first arrives at saltburn makes me laugh so much i love him

- the way the sunlight accentuates felix’s torso through his linen shirt makes my head spin

- felix definitely made ollie & him share a bathroom on purpose

- “darling you’re kind about everyone” NO HE IS NOT. FELIX IS NOT KIND.

- pamela’s jewelry is to die for

- “so i hope you didn’t pack anything scandalous” DO YOU WANT HIM TO FELIX?????

- ollie giving venetia his blanket under the guise of “oh you must be cold here’s this” is so funny because i know he did that on purpose due to him knowing how venetia feels about him

- i love how emerald made ollie having a big dick canon lmao

- all of them watching the ring is so cute

- ollie sleeping as him and felix lounge by the pool together 😭

- ollie eye fucking felix as he sucks on an ice pop is so real

- LOOOVE farleigh’s “dump him” shirt

- felix giggling as he has ollie on his knees drinking wine is so cute

- the way ollie inhales shakily as he watches felix get off is so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

- i absolutely love how eager ollie is when he licks felix’s cum from the drain like ohhhhhhhhhh…..

- also ollie softly moaning as he does it my god sedate me

- i will never get over how ollie practically puts his whole fist in venetia’s mouth + smears the blood all over her mouth and chest

- farleigh playing fuck, chuck, or marry with the kings is literally just an opportunity for him to tell oliver he would fuck him + to also read ollie as an insecure parasite that only lives for getting what he wants & obviously ollie picks up on it

- ollie crying after felix scolds him about lying is so sad my god that boy was heartbroken

- farleigh telling ollie “try harder next time baby” is so hot FUCK

- the transition from ollie blowing out his candles to the song lonliness is probably one of the best transitions in media ever

- “i just need you to understand how much i fucking love you” MY HEART IS BREAKING.

- felix would so have kissed ollie in the maze if he wasn’t shoved away

- elspeth’s sob when she finds felix dead is one of the most earth shattering things i’ve ever heard especially accompanied with the swell of the orchestra it is absolutely gut wrenching

- the grave scene is so beautifully shot it makes me cry poor ollie just wanted to be close to his felix one more time

- seeing ollie dance naked around the house is just so freeing and !!!!!!

thats all my silly little commentary, thank you for reading my word vomit 🤗

#saltburn #saltburn posting #oliver quick #felix catton #cattonquick #felix x oliver #lgbtqia #wormswurld posts 🌟

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arbiterlexultionis · 6 months

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Instant Eternity Pt. 2

So, Danny has the infi-map and uses it to go on vacations and the like to enjoy his now eternal life. The infinite realms are Infinite, really and truly. But locations within the realms correlate to spaces in the “real” world, so what happens when you travel beyond what should be the ends of the “real” universe in the realms? You find other universes. All universes, realities, multi and Omni verses connect with the Infinite Realms, hence the name kind of implying the existence of infinite realms. With the infimap Danny’s able to visit and explore these other planes of existence to his hearts content, and over the course of his travels makes a number of close friends.

He can’t just say goodbye forever, can’t leave them with no way to call for aid or call for small talk so, he comes up with a bit of a crazy plan to make sure all his new friends can meet each other and stay in contact. A combination of the infi-map, Fenton portal technology, time medallions/assistance from clockwork, help from the yeti’s and maybe even some help from Dr. Strange or Dr. Fate all come together to make a private club that connects to who knows how many dimensions. In a Ghost King AU his royal palace has all the normal palace stuff but surrounding Phantom’s Keep is a whole town for inter-dimensional travelers. The portals themselves are all in a massive tower, either leaning tower of Pisa style or a massive clock tower because of how much Clockwork helped out, arranged kind of like how all the statues of the avatars are arranged in the air temple in ATLA.

Danny’s sitting at his desk in his office while 7 Gokus, 13 Vegitas, 4 Beeruses(Beerusi? A pod of Beerus? Flock?) 10 Piccolos and 1 Gohan crowd the rest of his office. “Two Hundred and Forty. 2-4-fucking-0. That is the number of of Territories that have lodged official complaints about the ruckus your fights have been causing! Queen Patet sent a fifty seven page long letter asking me to give every single one of your dimensions eternal travel bans to all of your dimensions and every dimension where even one of you exist. Because the shockwaves from your fights were still strong enough to shatter glass when they reached her Territory. The territory of Vitrum, which makes Fucking Everything from glass! Including the Goddamn Buildings! They build their cities in massive glass orbs! More than thirteen hundred buildings torn down in one day. Including every single hospital they had. You fought for nine days straight. Get out. Get the crap baskets out of my office. Now. Go home. Let the Bulmas know that they’re paying the reparations.” They all file out of the office, Vegitas and the flock of Beerus mumbling about how they shouldn’t have made their buildings out of glass if they didn’t want them to get broken. The one(1) brain cell the group had, otherwise known as Gohan, was apparently the only one with manners, profusely apologizing and offering to help with the clean up even as he got shooed out of the office.

More then a dozen Quirckless!Izuku vigilantes come together to form a great big club to share intel that match’s across their various worlds, analyze quirks, train and give each other therapy. It’s all going well. Then the Batmen stop developing contingency plans for literally all the beings they meet here juuust long enough for their adoption senses to start tingling. The Dad Mights, Dadzawas and Dad for Ones put aside their differences to combat this new threat. The Spider-men are sitting in a corner grateful that their spider senses and Peter tingles helped them avoid all that nonsense. Until the Iron Dads show up. Then they’re all to busy running and cursing their Parker luck to be grateful.

Passing through a gateway to another universe that isn’t yours require approval from no less then half the visitors from that verse and/or Danny himself. Same thing goes for leaving the compound to explore the Realms.

All the adoption addicts from across the multiverse take one look at Danny, listen to all the rumors about his parents and go “Mine!”. Luckily for Danny he doesn’t really have to to worry to much, doesn’t even notice really, because 2.3 seconds after they did that they all turned to each other and went “No! Not yours, Mine!” The infighting has kept them busy ever sense. However, according to an ancient, sacred prophecy(something that Clockwork mentioned in passing 2 months ago) they will eventually all decide that Danny having a proper support network is more important then who his favorite supporter is. So he’s going to get parented so hard by all three hundred and eighty of them. More moms, dads, ma’s, pa’s aunts and uncles then he’ll know what to do with.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #fic prompt #dp au #story prompt #writing prompt #danny phantom au #dc x dp #dp #dp x dc #temporal tourist #ghost king danny #dp x bnha #dp x mcu #dp x marvel #dp x mha

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m1d-45 · 7 months

Note

Literally a lurker on your blog since ur early days but too shy to slide into ur ask box, hiii!!! I keep seeing cryo anon and teddy anon's brainrots and asks,,,, and like, regarding post impostor AU hehe

imagine after the hunt when your fave character/vessel begs you for forgiveness the most, practically turning their voice hoarse from their pleas to share just a bit of your mercy....

(you never showed your face to them, even when they were your most favored. how selfish of them, wanting more than they could ever deserve. but they can't help it. if you wanted them to die a thousand times over to repent, they would. just please, look at them again.)

post imposter au always tickles an itch in my brain I've never known existed. angry creator? boiling hot rage creator for their acolytes killing them when they've shown nothing but love and kindness for this world?? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP LORD

I wanna see guilt. And I mean GUILT. it's probably cause I'm petty asf and if I would be killed over and over and over again only for them to realize I'm not the fake I would literally lock myself up in whatever tower they built for me and never talk again. Creator's trust? Shattered, irreparable. Followers? Wallowing in the despair.

Thank u and goodbye heh. If it's not too much, can I be called Marcotte anon? Hehe fontaine reference hhhh,, anyways have a good day ily and ur fics <3

post-hunt can be incredibly good, entirely agree

the love you felt for the world is so strong already, and it only grows as you finally get to teyvat. being here, feeling the elemental energy, feeling the world greet you as you return after your rest.. what hate is more powerful than a love turned rotten?

you hid behind your veil, uncertain if you’re protecting yourself or them. it hurts to see their eyes tearing up as they plead, but what else are you to do? your hands shake when they draw close, and you can’t erase your own memory.

(you’d know. you asked nahida about it, but she’d only shaken her head. all she could do was clear the memories of teyvat, but not yours. it hurt, but was probably for the best.)

(despite it being a failure, that day was the calmest you’d felt in weeks. she was easy to talk to, and made lovely tea. perhaps you should visit again, if only to take a break from… everything.)

your solitude is comfortable, most of the time. a few of the hunters are a bit too comfortable with their sin, and are the ones tasked with bringing you food and other necessities. it’s not much better, though, since you can still see the guilt sinking in their eyes.

it’s a lose-lose all around. you want to see them, you want to see the world, but every leaf and branch is stained with the memories of the past, what used to be your favorite retreat now something else to hide from.

part of you is angry. furious at how easily they were tricked. it’s hard to stay mad at those you love, though, so you end up sitting in your window and watching the wind blow safely behind glass. your tea is from inazuma, this time, the faint edge of bitterness keeping you from sinking too far into much of anything.

leaves dance in the breeze. you won’t be seen again until they’ve long turned brown.

#i am. so sorry i meant to post this like three days ago fuck-#i’m normal and have normal working memory i swear #m1d : [chats]#marcotte anon #fontaine :]#also i’ll #m1d : [sweethearts]#sorry if this isn’t what you wanted i just be sayin words #hmm i was gonna say i’m gonna write for fontaine again but i think that would be too repetitive—#(i have made over 80 formal posts. of course i’m gonna be slightly repetitive)#two cakes it’s two cakes it’s TWO CAKES #as a reader it’s ‘i want thirteen exactly like this’ but as an author it’s ‘this was vaguely similar to something i posted a year ago :(‘#not technically a year but WHATEVRR #anyway anyway anyway um. freminet <3 #he’s got that flavor #god he just like me fr #i will build him or so help me god #i will be PRODUCTIVE TODAY i will be PRODUCTIVE TODAY i WILL i WILL

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eclecticmiasma · 10 months

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Size Gap (Foul Legacy Childe x Reader)

Working through Childe's trauma by literally riding it out.

NSFW

[Warnings: tooth decaying fl*ff my lord, a bit of cumflation]

By the time it happens, you're none the wiser until it's all too much to bear. It occurs in the dead of night, during the rare moments where Childe is truly vulnerable with you. The moments where he's fresh from the kind of assignment that plucks at his nerves rather than energizes them, where he's buried his face in your neck and wrapped you so tightly in his arms that you feel nothing but his presence.

Whatever happened earlier this evening must have opened old wounds. The typically boisterous man falls into you without a word as soon as he enters your bedroom, desperate to get your bare skin on his own as soon as possible. His rough palms splay across every inch of your heated flesh as if he's memorizing every curve by hand.

When he does speak, his words are nonsense in your ears. Frenzied, babbling praise. Precious thing, so good, so incredibly good, dushen’ka**, so tight, my love. All of it comes flooding out as your body accepts him, as you desperately ride the waves of his outpouring of sincerity together.

Secretly, this is the Childe you prefer. The Childe that doesn't remove his length for even a second for fear of leaving the safety of your body, but rather drags it along your walls with such deliberation it's as if he's trying to meld your bodies into one. The Childe that groans so sweetly in your ear that his voice becomes hoarse and shattered. The Childe that wets the pillows beneath you with saliva and, though he'll never admit it, tears. Even though you can barely breathe with how strongly he holds you close as he takes you, the feeling of his heartbeat reverberating through your chest is sheer bliss.

Just as that familiar feeling is building in your gut, right before you tangle your fingertips in Childe's fiery locks and drag his lips to your own, a strange sensation hits you. A twinge of pain around your opening. Your hands still, but Childe continues thrusting into your wet heat as if everything is right with the world, nearly whimpering with pleasure. In fact, he hasn't noticed that your moans have ceased, your body's movements with them.

You feel it again, a stretch. This time accompanied by pressure in your lower abdomen.

"Ch-Childe," You breathe, unsettled. A sound that you've never heard your lover make meets your ears as he releases a guttural growl into your shoulder and continues rutting his hips as if his life depends on it. His body feels heavier somehow, crushing you beneath its weight as you struggle to inhale. Every thrust strikes deeper, and deeper. Your lower back stings where Childe grips you, almost as if his nails are pricking into your skin. This time you whine as the pressure in your abdomen suddenly builds again and searing pain begins, "Ajax!"

As a last ditch effort, you shout his given name and beat on the Snezhnayan's sweat-slicked back, enough of a shock to jolt him into reality for long enough to still his hips. When he looks up at you time itself seems to stop.

Blue. It's the first word that comes to mind and the only word that rattles around your reeling brain as you search his features. One of Childe's eyes is glassed over and a brilliant, dazzling blue. The other is wildly flitting between your face and his own body as he scrambles, sitting himself up and cursing loudly.

Your neck strains as you look up at him with something between horror and curiosity nagging at the edge of your nerves. He must be a full head taller than usual, half of the skin over his rippling muscles blackened and charred. Childe's hair flows behind him, shoulder length and the color of sunset. Hulking, frightening, beautiful.

"Y/n," He says, voice cracking, "I..."

The source of your discomfort is obvious to you now, as your eyes trail down Childe's abdomen to meet where your bodies intertwine. Though your own body had forced most of your lover's hefty member out as it grew, its tip still sits snugly just past your opening, stretching it open painfully. You swallow hard at the sheer size of it, certain that even wrapping two of your hands around its girth would be a struggle.

Childe's grip on your waist releases as he shifts to unsheathe himself, shame written in his movements. In a split second decision your hand flies to his own, intermingling with his clawed digits and squeezing hard.

When Childe told you of his time in the Abyss, it had been the closest you felt you would ever come to understanding him. Through haunted eyes he spoke of the trials and tribulations, of the mentor who helped him through, and of the self-proclaimed monster he could become as proof of the taint the Abyss left on his soul. He spoke of it with clear disgust, and something akin to fear.

"Stay here..." You plead softly. Childe looks down at you in disbelief. Though he has made it very clear that you were to never see the physical manifestation of his trauma, a secret desire to do so has always floated in the back of your mind. To love someone is to love every part of them- and you couldn't love what you couldn't see.

For the first time since you met him, Childe looks uncertain. His eyes, both glowing and not, dart from your face to your body to his own mutated hands. He starts to shake his head, crestfallen, and you know what you have to do.

It hurts, Archons does it hurt, but you shift your hips just enough to stretch the seeping opening of your cunt slightly. Childe makes a strangled noise, voice deepened by the change in his body, and a jolt of arousal hits you over the pain. Despite everything in you screaming to pull away, you want to hear it again.

You squeeze his hand for dear life and move again, gasping as your hole is stretched to its limits. Childe's massive length slides in millimeter by millimeter, and through your ministrations your lover begins to change more. His skin darkens further and hard scales flare out over his chest. His other eye becomes clouded and glows as he watches you spear yourself along his throbbing member, a mesmerizing sight for the both of you to behold. You sweat as his cock finishes its transformation, growing ever so slightly larger still.

"Y/n..." The hulking man sighs deeply. He lets you move along him at your own torturously slow pace, wrapping his massive clawed hands around your torso and pressing his lips to your cheeks, eyelids, and neck. His long crimson hair falls over your brow, and as you inhale through it all you realize he smells inexplicably like the universe itself.

It isn't easy and it isn't graceful, but Childe's baritone grunts of pleasure lead you to finally, finally bottom out. For several moments the two of you simply breathe together, the sweat from your bodies soaking the bedsheets beneath you. Even Childe's cock is warm inside of you, as his new form seems to radiate heat. It pulses in anticipation and you cling to your lover's back, ready for whatever is to come.

What happens next is a blur. Childe trails wet nips and kisses all the way to your lips. He pauses, giving you a look so full of adoration you feel that you might burst. You card a hand through his crimson locks and bring his lips to your own, opening the floodgates.

As Childe begins to unsheathe his enormous girth, his tongue slides past your teeth and nearly down your throat. You moan desperately around the intrusion in response, gripping the man's shoulders for dear life as he completely and utterly takes you.

At first, it seems impossible. The painful stretch of your cunt around him is almost too much to bear. Childe is so lost in the pleasure that you barely have room to breathe, his lengthened tongue and his cock wrecking you from both ends. You'll split apart, surely, or suffocate around the wet muscle that bullies down your throat in the process.

Just as your consciousness starts to fade at the edges, Childe drags his tongue from your pharynx and growls your name against your open mouth. His length stretches you open again and again as he ruts into your heat, thrusting so deep it feels as if your stomach is in your chest.

"...[Y/n]...[Y/n]...Archons..." The pain subsides as pleasure slowly takes its place, and the way your abdomen bulges with every snap of Childe's hips has you practically screaming his name. No one had ever seen Childe like this, his rawest and truest emotions manifesting in the creature you lay with now. To know you've brought this out of him, you alone, it fills you with unparalleled elation.

Your back arches as your muscles tense. As you clamp down on Childe's cock like a vice, he eagerly fucks you through your orgasm so hard you see stars. He sputters on about how beautiful you look, how good you are for him, how much he adores you. Tears wet the corners of your eyes as a second wave of spasms hits you, and you sob into the crook of his neck all the way through.

Childe uses his massive arms to pull your spent body off of the bed and spears you bonelessly on his girth like a ragdoll. All you can do is feebly wrap your own arms around his neck and let him, sobbing as he somehow cants deeper and deeper.

It takes every ounce of energy to stop him when he announces his own climax, pulling halfway from you before you force your cunt to slide back down to the hilt. You want him, all of him, even to be filled to the brim with his release.

Childe's semen spurts out of him in thick ropes, warmer than anything you've ever experienced. You moan and gyrate your hips in his lap, milking every last drop and gasping as it seeps out around your swollen hole. His nails dig into your skin as wave after wave of spasms wrack his heaving form.

When he finally stops shaking, gazes down in awe at the swell of your abdomen. It deflates as he begrudgingly lifts your trembling, a flood of white fluid coating his cock as your womb empties.

Exhausted, Childe flops down next to you and immediately wraps you in his arms. Though he's returned to his usual self, he still radiates a warmth that invites you to entangle your sticky, sweat-slicked body with his own. Dazed, weary, and floating on feelings of pure love for your partner, you ignore the aches and pains starting to make themselves known and fall into a much needed slumber.

Childe says it when he's sure you're fast asleep, quieter than most would be able to register just in case. Two words that he's found nearly impossible to utter since his fall into the Abyss all of those years ago.

"Thank you."

**my soul

*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload. please consider reblogging, as mature content is often buried by Tumblr!

[Genshin Masterlist]

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beesinspades · 8 months

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TRIGUN FIC REC LIST (FOR FANFIC WRITERS APPRECIATION DAY 2023)

For years I haven’t been able to participate much because I barely read any fics anymore, but Trigun has definitely changed that, so here it is! A rec list of every fic I’ve enjoyed so far! I have terrible memory and not enough brain power to leave a note about each one, but I put a ♡ next to every fic I particularly loved! They're all rated G or T, but five of them are rated M (mainly for violence and canon-typical heavy topics). A lot (I mean. a lot.) of them have a Hurt/Comfort tag. Most are Vashwood BUT there are 10+ Gen fics and a couple of Mashwood ones as well :3 Please note some of the fics in this list are not spoiler-free!

VASHWOOD

♡ tell me why your hands are cold (show me how) by desertblooms

Beelio’s comment: the first Trigun fic I ever read, so of course it’s a lil’ bit special to me!

♡ terrors don't prey on innocent victims by procrastinatingbookworm

♡ Heavy Weight by eshtaresht

Beelio’s comment: I only read the Wolfwood POV chapter. As the first ace Vash(wood) I read besides mine, it made me really happy!

The Problem with Making Friends by sad_ghost_kid

half your life you've been hooked on death by procrastinatingbookworm

♡ stars by the pocketful by the_13th_battalion

Beelio’s comment: gave me cavities and i said thank you

♡ a phantom's reverence by bricus27

Beelio’s comment: another one of my favorites!

♡ heaven's grief brings hell's rain by JazzRaft

say it's such a fault by procrastinatingbookworm

A Ship and his Anchor by DerringerMeryl

lazarus wept by Bioluminescent

shepherd my flock by Bioluminescent

Beelio's comment: a really cool concept with Wolfwood as a church grim!

♡ a spark of hope is what i'm after by IceEckos12

work song by AllegedlyAnnie

♡ Breezeblocks by caffeinefire

two eggs, over easy by AllegedlyAnnie

Beelio’s comment: this one is just so funny. trust me.

dear star and spring bud, my preachers by elemmacil

"Love nourishes, like the rain. We turn the hills green and fill the creeks so they will sing in their creekbeds." by selcouth_raw

♡♡♡ water bucket blues by fathomfive

Beelio’s comment: literally begging you to read this. good god. I never read first person pov fics AND YET. probably my favorite Trigun fic!

safeguard by the_13th_battalion

in a phrase to cut these lips by gorgongorgeous

Of Nick and Nicholas Names by theMusicmaniac

♡ under the bloody moonlight by spinoffprotagonist

Even Angels Deserve Guardians by glaivenoct

♡ scattered feathers, shattered glass by SpiritusRex

MASHWOOD

and i'll love the littler things by procrastinatingbookworm

To Touch You by hypermoyashi

GEN

The Sobs of a Bear and the Tears of an Angel by loveandpeanus

♡ How Judas Earned His Name by BrownieFox

♡ nobody said it was easy by procrastinatingbookworm

Beelio’s comment: this gorgeous post-trimax fic made me cry which is a feat in itself

♡ if only there was some way to ease the pain by SpiritusRex

the river brings you home by tissuebocks

♡ For the world that we leave, not the world that we found by RedWritingHood

I wanna feel like the work had some meaning by RedWritingHood

Season of the Witch by tragic_unpaired_electron

What Was Taken, What Was Restored (series) by Anxiety_Elemental

♡ If You Had Not Have Fallen by aboxthecolourofheartache

♡ YOU ARE HERE; or, How to Get Lost in the Desert Without Really Dying by fathomfive

Start here by AsterAspera

Now everyone knows about my tastes in fanfiction. If you read any of them, please leave a nice comment for the author if you can, I'm sure you'll make their day! 💜 Happy Fanfic Writers Appreciation Day to my fellow fic writers! Thank you for feeding me (us) so well.

#trigun #trigun fanfiction #vashwood #fanfic writers appreciation day #fic rec #maybe next year I'll consider myself good enough at art to draw fanart for my favorites....Who Knows

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your-old-sins-tournament · 1 month

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12 YEAR OLD OCS; SIDE A

Cupid [@onitekka] (she/her)

Cupid is like every normal middle school student, a pink-haired half-vampire totally not crushing on her girl best friend, seemingly born from every weird twelve year olds innate wish: make a video game.

Cupid journeys through the depths of hell to rescue her "girl best friend" (very subtle) from the evil Dark Overlord Xanata, who sealed her best friend into a crystal because she Also wants to be Cupid's "girl best friend".

she boasts a variety of super cool barely vampire related attacks that involve just straight up yelling at enemies! this girl has a sonic screech that can shatter glass, bulletproof bat wings, and a literal gun! you can practically hear angel with a shotgun (nightcore) blasting in the background.

why is the embodiment of love a vampire? because vampires are now ostensibly fallen angels. why is she fighting hell if she's a fallen angel? because it's cool.

Description: A beginner's illustration of Cupid. she has messily coloured short pink hair with two longer strands in the front, red eyes, a fuschia top, and a green skirt. she is also wearing black boots, and part of her bat wings are coloured black as well. there is blood dripping from her mouth.

Ash [@changeling-ash] (she/her)

She is so cool. My little self insert. My baby. Epic powerful magic.

Ash was part of a secret subspecies of humans (Homo sapiens dimutus) which could shapeshift, which she used to grow huge black wings or turn into a black leopard or look like a monster to scare enemies, anything as long as her brain stayed the same size or got denser to fit smaller. When she shapeshifted she would release green and blue fire from the power of the transformation (cause she has lots of copper in her blood that burns green. To protect against cancer, you see. Shapeshifting has lots of cancer risk so copper is sooo important)

She became one by genetic engineering at 15 so the dimutus could get more soldiers and spies for a war with the demon-like psyuedos (child soldier lol). She could come back to life because she had a failsafe that would activate where she would shapeshift away the wound and her brain would jolt back online. The only way to kill a dimutus was to kill the brain.

Like other dimutus, she could also dimension hop, so she'd travel the multiverse, from tv show to tv show or to the universe with dragons or with cool landscapes. She was good with a sword and something called a bladed quarterstaff, which is basically one of those two sided lightsabers but a blade. She was mentored by one of the most powerful dimutus of the war and is super powerful too compared to other dimutus.

Propaganda from the old post

Okay time for my propaganda once more!

Ash is my girl, my baby.

She has TWO dragons. The first one is Flicker, who is strong and agile with black scales and a violet belly. Ash rides on her back and she speaks dragon at her. Her other dragon is Zephyr, who she raised from an egg and he looks like a blue sky with white patches like clouds, and random little flecks of gold scales. He's lithe and fast and so agile. She can summon them from their alternate universes by calling out "Tul Lüg" for Flicker and "Zep-iagh" for Zephyr, and they leap from portals to fight.

She can speak so many languages. The language of Dimutus is actually Modernized Latin. She knows English, Spanish, French, Latin, Italian, ASL, and has the best translators.

She made friends with a shadowy wolf companion called a Shadowlupe who accepted her as part of the pack. She runs with him in hunts as a wolf.

She can do a double backflip. Enough said.

She would fly with huge black wings, it was her favorite thing to do. Knew how to do all the tricks. She is dimension hopping miles in the air just to fall for ages, then fly at breakneck speeds. And she was terrifying in battle, she would dodge and weave and slash as she passed, an airborne killing machine.

She could give herself big springy legs to jump so high and do crazy tricks. She adapted herself to move fast, bounce and parkour her way at insane speeds. She could traverse so well.

She also did normal parkour. It was a fun challenge to try with minimal modifications. Pretended a lot of parkour POV vids were her.

She had two cats trained to infiltrate bases cause they are kitties and can fit through the vents and no one suspects the kitties. Baya was a Bengal and Shadow was a beautiful medium hair black cat.

She could also dimension hop in a way that was like astral projecting. She'd just be floatin, near invisible. She'd keep her wings in that state to pull them from the dimension fast to use them quickly. Her friends would chill there and comment to her while she was doing boring things.

She had a ragtag best friend and copilot partner Katie that was the mostest important person to her. Her brother in arms, her guy in the chair, her support, and Ash was the same to Katie. They were ride or die, and they died a lot for each other. (I basically made a QPP a decade before I myself ended up in one. Probably an early sign I was aro.)

She lost her arm sometimes, and she'd have a badass prosthetic if she couldn't shapeshift it back right away.

So much trauma from being a child soldier will come later. Her future character with me a decade later is somethin.

#cupid #ocs #polls #bracket tournament #old sins #side a #ocs you made when you were 12 tournament #ash

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gay-disabled-characters-showdown · 6 days

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LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 4, Poll 3

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Ashton Greymoore-Critical Role

Qualifications:

chronic pain due to literally shattering into pieces and being put back together with molten gold. canon nonbinary [he/they]. i don’t have the spoons for a ramble on their character arc but i am holding them gently in my little hands.

Has chronic pain and TBI and goes by he/they pronouns

They are canonically depicted with chronic pain. This a major part of their character development and how they interact with other characters in the campaign. The actor who portrays them is also bisexual and deals with chronic pain; Taliesin Jaffe.

Propaganda:

they’re a punk-rock punk rock!! he has cool quantum powers and a huge glass hammer!! they’re slowly learning to live with the mortifying ordeal of having people that care about them and that he cares about in turn!! what’s not to love

A literal jaded punk rock. They were soft once... and then they turnd into stone. His body was shattered and glued back together by his enby housemate with melted gold. They have a hole in their head covered with glass through which you can see the brain and the chaos magic that brought them back from the brink of death. They're Constantly in pain and sometimes they don't remember who they screwed over(they crime) and what their relationship is like with people. He's a barbarian and when he rages he warps time, space, gravity or probability around him. Strongest member of their group/family Bells Hells. There's strength, but there's pain. There's pain, but there's strength. I love him very much. I'm not enby, they still give me gender envy (just like every other of his creator's characters). His coping mechanisms are not healthy in any way and he means a lot to me.

See above. Also, Ashton uses he/they pronouns and is canonically aromantic.

The qualifications and propaganda paragraphs correspond, @hawkeyeloveshawkeye is the third submitter.

Patricia Tannis-Borderlands

Qualifications:

Canonically and explicitally autistic, severely mentally ill, canonically lgbt in some way but not specified (bi, pan or similar) as she offers to sleep with the player character regardless of gender

Propaganda:

We support womens wrongs

#polls #poll #disabled characters #lgbtq characters #disability #lgbtq #lgbtq dcs round 1 #lgbtq dcs wave 4 #ashton greymoore #critical role #patricia tannis #borderlands

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ebongawk · 11 months

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"Hey, baby."

He'd just walked through the front door of their apartment – their apartment, lease signed, sealed, and fucking delivered to the landlord some two months prior. His messy scrawl alongside Chrissy's immaculately elegant C. Cunningham, dotted with a perfect little circle that made his heart pop fireworks in his chest.

(From a fucking signature. Goddamn, he was gone for her.)

"Hey," she smiled, not quite turning toward him.

She was in the kitchen, humming softly as she carefully rolled balls of ground beef. Oh fuck yes, Chrissy had masterfully made meatballs one other time and, no matter how much he begged – literally on his knees – she'd lamented that they weren't exactly healthy.

And, yeah, Chrissy's patent-pending Relationship With Food was healing, but Eddie wasn't such an asshole that he'd push her to make something she wasn't one-hundred-and-ten-percent on board with. She was still testing the waters with what she could bring herself to eat.

If there's a God, Eddie wanted to bow down and worship Him or Her for allowing meatballs to make the cut.

"Did all my pleading actually amount to something?" he asked as he slipped off his work boots, pattering over the short distance between the front door and the kitchen. They'd lucked out with this apartment, honestly, but it was still rather small. "Or is this, like, a body snatchers thing? Are you just a Chrissy-replica trying to win me over with meatballs?" He leaned down, avoiding touching her clothes with his grimy post-work hands as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Because it's working."

She smiled, but it wasn't... It wasn't Chrissy-bright. It was an appeasing sort of smile – the kind of thing you foisted upon a person to be polite before dismissing them. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Eddie leaned awkwardly around the counter, trying to catch her eye.

"You okay, sweetness?"

"I'm fine," she said, her voice as robotic as any body snatcher. Blinking, she barely awarded him a glance. "You should wash up. Dinner will be done soon."

A verbal dismissal. Fuck.

"Uh. Yeah. Alright." Trying very hard not to feel like a kicked puppy, Eddie retreated into the bathroom. Chrissy didn't turn back toward him, and Eddie rapped the wall with his knuckle a couple of times before closing the door.

Shit. Shit. What had happened? Chrissy had a part-time gig as a barista at a café near their apartment, but she hadn't worked that morning, so it couldn't have been a rude customer. And she'd called him during his lunch break, sounding completely normal, to ask if he needed anything from the grocery store.

Fuck. Had he done something? Hell knows it wouldn't be the first time he'd unintentionally fucked up by saying or doing the wrong thing without realizing it. That was one of the problems of having a brain that wasn't really connected to his mouth. But, running through their conversation that afternoon, he couldn't remember saying anything particularly callous or thoughtless.

That didn't mean he hadn't, though. Admittedly, whatever they'd talked about during those fifteen minutes was a little lost to him; he remembered, of course, making her laugh, but was it her fake laugh? The one she gave other people when she was trying to be polite? She'd never, y'know, given him that laugh, but that didn't mean he could detect it over the goddamn phone, for Christsakes.

He was scrubbing the motor oil out from under his nails, thoughts spiraling as torrentially as the water down the drain, when the bathroom door opened. Then closed again.

There was a bit of shuffling, the sounds barely discernible over the rushing spray of water. Then the shower curtain was pulled aside, and Chrissy climbed into the tub behind him. Eddie didn't dare turn, too afraid to shatter this delicate glass idea she had as her arms wrapped around him. After a moment, she pressed her cheek between his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice soft and delicate. The tiny letters of her apology tracing her breath against his skin.

Clearing his throat, Eddie let his hands tentatively rest on hers around his abdomen. "For what, princess?"

"For being rude."

Eddie scoffed, loosening her hold on him just enough that he could turn around and look at her. Really look at her, as she hadn't given him opportunity in the kitchen.

There was a tiny little hitch between her brows. A furrow that accentuated the wide, bare emotion swirling in her stormy eyes.

Sadness, he knew, with a heavy pinch of anxiety.

The comfort of meatballs suddenly made more sense.

"You weren't rude," he assured her, brushing back the few stray strands of hair that had fallen from her messy bun and trailing water down the length of her cheek. "You were just quiet. Had me a little worried, that's all."

Thunder struck in her storm cloud eyes, filling them with tears before she buried her face in his chest. Eddie held her, rocking them back and forth as she sobbed in his arms. (He still had conditioner in his hair, but letting it sit for longer just made it work better, right? Isn't that what Chrissy taught him?)

"I-I-I tried to call Matty today," Chrissy finally managed, her voice broken around the emotion of trying to force the words out. "I t-thought he'd be alone, b-b-but––"

"Did your mom answer?" he asked when her sentence broke off with a pitiful little cry. She nodded, and Eddie tightened his hold around her. Holding her in the protection of his arms, like he could bat off the sadness her mother always caused when they had the misfortune of speaking.

Last time Laura had intercepted a call, Eddie had practically yanked the phone from Chrissy's grasp before the old bitch could say anything that would ruin his girl.

Fuck him for not having opportunity to do the same today. But fuck Laura Cunningham most of all.

He didn't need to ask what she'd said. It was the same old regurgitated bullshit she'd spewed when Chrissy had climbed into Eddie's van, as many of their worldly possessions as they could fit in the cab and headed east. Shit about how Chrissy would never amount to anything, about how she wasn't allowed a relationship with her brother. A bunch of absolutely bonkers crazy Chrissy had let roll off of her, keeping her shoulders back and her head high.

It was harder, some days, to be reminded of the control Laura still tried to exert. The fist Chrissy was still trying to desperately to peel from around her body.

Eddie moved, just enough that the warm spray could touch them both, and let Chrissy cry into him.

"It's alright, baby," he cooed, pressing his lips to her forehead. "It's okay. What'd you tell me the other day? Crying is, um. Crying is lethargic?"

A laugh snorted against his sternum, and Chrissy shook her head, nose rubbing against his bare wet chest.

"Cathartic," she corrected.

"Catatonic, that's what I said."

She giggled, pressing a kiss over his heart before she looked up at him. Eddie brought his hands up, thumbs gently swiping away the tear tracks from her cheeks despite how they blended in with the shower spray.

"Thank you," she breathed, pressing up on her toes to give him a kiss.

Eddie leaned down, giving her a proper kiss when she tried to pull back after a second. He cupped her jaw in one hand, the other gently wrapping around the back of her neck, and kissed her until she gasped for air against his lips.

"Anything, Cunningham," he grinned. "You know that."

Growing a little bashful, Chrissy rested against him.

"I was, um. I was making dinner, to try and take my mind off it. But I rolled all the meatballs, and now I'm just... spent."

"Oh yeah? You wanna order something from that little Korean place down the street? We haven't eaten there yet."

He could feel the curve of her smile against his heart. Exactly where it belonged.

"Yes, please," she sighed.

After a second, Eddie hummed. "So, what I'm hearing is, the crying made you tired?"

"Um. I suppose so?"

"So, like, in a way, crying is lethargic? Is that what I'm getting from this?"

"Oh, my God, Eddie."

"Hey, I'm just saying––"

"That you have to be right," she giggled, lip tucked between her teeth when she looked up at him. "Yeah, I know."

He kissed the smile from her lips.

"I know you."

(for @cunninghamchrissie 😘)

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #hellcheer drabble #cw // eating disorder discussion #hurt/comfort #could be we're a lie Eddie and Chrissy ngl

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zozo-01 · 1 year

Text

“you’re in MY WORLD, you can stay. (but you belong to me.)”

Starting off the 2023 with a fixation that won’t leave me, His Majesty himself, King Sam himself!!! I was robbed of my favourite couple from getting a royal au, so when @taelonsamada reminded me I can write, I said, “ Fuck it, I’ll give it to them!!!”

A wonderful shoutout to @gingerbreadmonsters for beta reading this fic for me!!!! She is the absolute best and I adore her so much!!!!

[Also tagging @haradasaya for being the biggest King Sam fan I know and @epsi-l0n, @cheolsk, @daveyistheloml and @dollscircus because they are all dolls!!!]

CW: Typical Imperium Violence™️, King Sam is an asshole in love, Darlin’ is (not for long) a wolf in love, Manipulation, Sam invoking Darlin’ for reasons he can justify, Darlin' is gender neutral but they are called a 'bitch', Explicit mentions of multiple characters being turned, The only turning that is explicitly written is consensual, Sooooo much fucking around with the canon

click here for the ao3 link!!!

—

Wolf senses are a blessing.

They allow the shifter to see predators and prey from far distances. Their sense of smell can take in the scent of blood and death, allowing them to avoid those areas. And every pup was told to run the other way if they heard a scream in the distance, lest they end up screaming by the end of the night.

A wolf’s senses are wonderful to escape danger.

But what happens when their heart overrides the danger their brain perceives?

Darlin’ knows this is stupid. They should be with the rest of the pack, ready to bolt to Keaton territory and claim it as their own. But they can’t. Call it stupidity or recklessness for even thinking they can change him. Darlin’ knew why they wanted to try. And it was worse than any reason a person could come up with.

Darlin’ loves him.

And isn’t love enough of a reason to try?

The scent of blood washed over them, but they didn’t waiver. Long had they become numb to the smell of blood. They didn’t want to become desensitized to it, never had they wished that the sight of the dead and decaying to be a common one.

The Imperium had said otherwise.

They weren’t walking to the Imperial King though. He had long been dealt with, they all saw it. Someone had made him kneel for them. The stubborn king, who rarely compromised on anything, was taking orders that were unbefitting of the lowest ranked humans.

It had made their stomach curl when they recognized the boot he had been licking.

The southern drawl on the PA urged them to run to the spire.

‘Never fall for a leech.’ It was advice they had forced down their throats, beaten into their skull. It was vampires that ruined their life and led them to the Shaw Pack. It was a vampire that had killed their Alpha and should have killed them.

(The guilt of that night gnaws at them during their midnight escapades with the current king before he stole the crown. There they go, falling for the same creature that time and time again ruined their life. But he’s different. He loves them.)

The walk to the throne had been the same as they remember it. Same long hallway, tall pillars, stained glass and from the archway, you could see the royal family.

Now the pillars were cracked, the once beautiful stained glass laid shattered at their feet…

…and the former king stood at the archway. Still. Deadly still.

They flinched at the sight of the king, fighting the urge to rip him to shreds. Make him pay for everything he has done to the people. To Sam. To them. But seeing him on the verge of tears yet unable to cry, body fighting itself to move, the look in his eyes begging for them to save him… Was this fate too cruel for a man like him?

He just had his crown stripped from him, literally it seems judging by the lack of jewelry on his head. It threw them off a bit, so used to the former king wearing the iconic crown of his family. So where had it gone?

Before they could call out to the former king, the southern drawl they love reverberated throughout the room. “Welcome Darlin’, you like what I did to the place?”

Looking past the tranced tyrant (though a part of them felt whatever he was under was stronger than a trance) they saw Sam sitting on the throne, a crown resting on his leg. Damn it all he looked good sitting there, leaned back with his leg spread, but the chaos outside had kept them focused. In a quiet voice, fearing talking any louder would show how fucking scared they were, they asked, “what did you do to him?”

“Aww Darlin’, you haven’t noticed? Be a good wolf and feel his core for me, yea?” He let out an insufferable chuckle, and they knew it was because he heard the spike in their pulse when he called them that. Doing as he said, Darlin’ felt the core of the former king. Instead of feeling the blazing heat, the core felt cold. Like it was dead.

“You turned him.” They looked up, stepped away from the young blood and paced towards the new king. “Sam, you fucking turned him? After everything you said about feeling sick when you were becoming a mass maker? Was that all a lie? And what the fuck are you doing letting vampires run loose on the streets?”

From the distance, they could hear a young boy’s scream. They squeezed their eyes shut, trying to block out. They knew that feeling all too well.

“There are vulnerable people who are gonna be turned because of this shit.”

Before Darlin’ could continue, Sam got up from the throne and walked toward the wolf. His pace unnerved them. He didn’t even have to trance them. His demeanor, his confidence, was enough to paralyze and keep them in place. Thoughts were racing through their head with every step he took.

‘Oh fuck, oh fuck, maybe it was a bad idea to piss off a massmaker king.’

‘Who cares? We can take his ass in a fight! Fuck his majesty!’

‘But this is Sam! He wouldn’t hurt us! He loves us!’

As the massmaker came closer, Darlin’ clenched their eyes shut and braced themselves for the pain to come. The different threads of their manic thoughts silenced, leaving a single idea echoing in their core.

‘Oh God, please don't bite me. I can’t go through that again.’

Except the bite never happened.

Darlin’ felt a cool object placed on their head, almost like a metal hat.

‘So that's where his crown went... Why did he put it one me though?’

“Can I see those pretty eyes of yours, Darlin’?” He pressed a gentle kiss on their hairline. “Please? I promise I won’t trance you. You know I’d never do that to you.”

They opened their eyes slowly, and were met with the dangerous silver eyes they fell in love with. This was the Sam they knew. The gentle smile and caring eyes. The reassuring hand placed on their back. The man who they had unloaded years of pain and anger and resent onto, and he carried their baggage like it was a badge of honour. They knew he was down there somewhere.

Sam leaned in and kissed them, deep and slow. A chuckle rumbled through his chest when Darlin’ became pliant in his arms, just how he likes it. “There’s my pretty Darlin’. Was scared you were gonna make me do something I’d regret.” He held their hand and guided them back to the throne, where he took a seat. He patted his lap. “Why don’t ya take a seat on this fine throne, Darlin’.”

The wolf shook their head and snapped out of the dazed haze they were in. “Sam, I- you-,” they tried to come up with something to say and the massmaker growled, cutting them off.

“Are you defying your king, my love? I told you to sit, and that means you’re gonna sit that fine ass down on this throne. Understood?” They nodded and straddled his lap, placing their hands behind his neck. Sam let out a pleased sigh and started to kiss their neck. He adored the shivers that he (and only he) was causing and squeezed their thigh to show his appreciation. “Now was that so hard baby? All I ask is for you to be good for me.” He leaned over to kiss their cheek and whispered into their ear, “and I know you love to be good for me.”

It was easy to get lost in his touch, his kisses, his love. They can try to forget the mayhem happening outside. Inside the palace walls, on the lap of their new king (the word mate crossed their mind), they can forget everything.

Their original pack.

David and Quinn.

The screams of the innocent being damned to a life they never asked for.

…Wait, no, that’s not what they want. Curse their fucking hearing.

“Sam- Sam, please let me talk- mmph!” Anytime they tried to open their mouth to speak, Sam would shush and silence them with a kiss. His hand on the back of their head was gripping their hair, forcing them to keep their lips locked with them. Darlin’ tried to push him off them, between his strength and the fact they want to kiss him made it harder to fight him.

But even vampires need to breathe.

He pulled away from them, panting as if he ran a marathon. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes and a predatory smile on his face. He was the hunter and they were his prey.

(In other circumstances, they wouldn’t have minded being his prey, but this was not the time.)

“Wait- before you kiss me again, I need to ask you something.” The desperation in Darlin’s voice made his eyes soften and caress their cheek.

“Anything, Darlin’.”

“Isn’t this taking things too far? Becoming king? Sending vampires to hunt for territory? We got our revenge against the Imperium, we don’t need to start another bloody massacre.”

Sam’s eyes darkened. “Do you not love me?” He adjusted in his seat to sit straighter, towering above the wolf in his lap. “Because it sounds like you don’t.” Their eyes widened and they spoke to defend themself. “Of course I love you! But innocent people are dying because you decided to let all hell loose!”

Sam sighed and adjusted the crown on Darlin’s head.

“Do you know why you’re wearing the crown even though I’m king?”

Above all else, Darlin’ was a curious wolf, and when they were given an opportunity to get some answers, they’ll snatch it with their claws. “...Yea actually, the fuck is up with that?”

“It’s because you’re deserving of the crown.” He laughed at the adorably confused face they made. “I am a monster. I’ve done terrible things to earn my titles, so despite the fact that I am king, the crown is too good, too beautiful for a person like me.” He paused for a moment to admire how the rubies and gold adorned his wolf’s head. “You? God, Darlin’, you’re the only ray of sunshine in this bleak world. So beautiful, and so good.”

“I really am not that good.”

Sam scoffed. He was scandalized by any implication that his Darlin’ was less than holy. “Oh really? I say you’re plenty good for trying to protect the people.”

“Sam, they’re innocent. They don’t deserve to-” He shook his head and thumbed their lip.

“Innocent people don’t scream and call you a ‘bitch’ for simply existing.”

They squirmed in his hold, the insult unfortunately packing more of a punch than they hoped.

Darlin’ opened and closed their mouth, trying to rebuttal his point. Their childhood memories bubbled back to the surface, the ones where they were berated and beaten, for simply being a wolf. They had thought that once they got to Dahlia, it would get better, but that was wishful thinking.

And the Imperium was never kind to wishful thinkers.

So people, empowered and otherwise, hadn’t treated them nicely, but still.

“They’re still people, isn’t that enough?”

Sam pushed Darlin’s hair away from their face and chuckled. “You’re allowed to hurt the people who hurt you, my love. I know you though. You’d never consider that. So let me hurt them for you. Let me protect you. I’ll get my hands dirty while you’re safe with that crown.” He held their face and pulled them closer. “I would do anything to protect you.”

Butterflies fluttered in their stomachs at Sam’s declaration. It had been… no, they had never been protected like that. Not as a child when their birth pack was being ripped to shreds by vampires. Not when Quinn was two seconds away from killing them. Asher may have saved them, but he hadn’t protected them. Not like Sam has.

“What about my pack?”

Sam stopped playing with their hair for a brief moment, pondering on what to do.

“Tell you what? I can send some progenies to help them out of Dahlia. I can’t help them much when they get out though.”

Darlin’s eyes sparkled at the suggestion. After all the trouble and pain they caused the pack, the least they could do was find them a safe way out. “Thank you Sam!” They leaned in and gave him a kiss to show his appreciation. He chuckled at their eagerness to help their pack, basking in the warmth of their good natured soul. A soul he refuses to let get tainted by anything.

“Of course Darlin’, Lord knows I’d do anything for you.” He placed a hand on the juncture of Darlin’s neck and shoulder, thumbing their pulse point. “But there is something I need you to do.”

Through a dazed gaze and a happy smile, Darlin’ replied, “anything.”

“Stay by my side forever.”

“...Does forever mean you wanna…?”

He kissed Darlin’s pulse point and nipped at it. “It only makes sense, no? I want you by my side forever, and that won’t happen if you’re mortal.” He made a good point.

But were they ready to do that? Give up their wolf form?

(A faint howl reverberated through the spire, but it wasn’t coming from them.)

The wolf within them had always brought a sense of comfort and protection to them. It was their wolf that had saved them from everything. There wasn’t anything that brought them more peace than shifting to their fur. They needed their shifter magic to feel safe.

But Sam brought that same safety, that same peace. So it would be a fair trade, right? They’ll give up their internal sense of protection for an external one.

Wolf claws for vampire fangs.

He kissed their cheek and whispered in their ear, “have you made your decision, Darlin’?”

Their body relaxed, already making peace with their inevitable but welcomed demise.

“Turn me. Please Sam?”

(The distant howl came back, even louder this time. Where was it coming from?)

His soft smile turned wicked. “Anything and everything for you, my love.” He played with their hair, and Darlin’ melted in his hand. Their eyes slowly closed, waiting for the pleasure to come. Sam had once told them that the intention behind the bite is what gives it feeling, and it was clear that he wanted to give them a sweet death.

He placed his forehead on theirs, their wolf adoring the act. “This bite won’t hurt you in the slightest. I won’t let it, and I’ll be here to take care of you, for forever and a day.”

Darlin’ giggled at his declaration and promise. “Forever and a day,” they repeated.

He smiled at the promise. “Then let’s get this show on the road.” He kissed their pulse point as a final reassurance before gently latching his fangs to their neck.

When the smallest amount of blood touched he moaned, pulling them closer. He shivered and growled, “your fucking blood- It’s what Gods would drink as offerings.” He went back to drink more of the ambrosia he adores.

His feeding session became more feral the more blood he drank. Sam couldn’t sit still with their blood flowing through veins, so he grinded up into them. If his excess energy can bring them pleasure, then that’s what he’ll do.

Darlin’ felt more lightheaded with every ounce of their life force is drained from them, but they couldn’t care. Sam’s deathly grip was consuming their being, both literally and figuratively, in the best way possible.

For once they trusted their life and death to someone else and fuck if that feeling ain’t worth dying for. They crave the security Sam brings and wants to be smothered in it. If it were up to them, they’d ask Sam to keep them buried in his heart, away and safe from the cruel world they don’t belong in.

Sam would do exactly that if he could. He can’t, but this is the best.

Before they died, Darlin’ heard one final order from their King.

“Rest easy, my Darlin’. I’ll make sure that your death is better than your life.”

Then with an unrestrained smile and a final breath, it all went to black.

(Was it just them, or did the howl sound familiar?)

—

Once the turning process was complete and he was sure they were breathing again, Sam carried his Darlin’s limp body back to their room. He loves calling it that. It doesn’t belong to either of them individually, nor does it belong to the old king. (He can make do with the bed in the dungeon, alongside the other wolf.) It was theirs, a distinction that warmed his undead heart.

He gently lowered his mate and placed the former wolf onto their bed. Oh, how he so wished to lay beside them and hold them close, and play with their hair while they sleep peacefully. But there was work to be done.

He kissed their forehead, doing a onceover their gorgeous body to make sure they were ok. Once everything was up to his standards, he covered their body with a blanket and left the room.

He closed the door and called out to his most beloved progenies. Within seconds, two young vampires appeared before their maker and king.

“There’s a wolf pack heading up north, the Shaws. I need you to deal with them for me.”

He could feel his more feral progeny aching at the thought of tasting wolf blood. “Want us to drain them dry?

Sam shook his head. “No, no, I want you to turn them.” He looked over his shoulder to the door that held Darlin’. “They need all the protection, and what better than a guard of former wolves?”

Fred stood up and said, “we’ll take care of everything, your majesty.” And with a nod from their king, the two progenies left, ready to carry out his wishes.

Any remorse or guilt that Sam may have felt was crushed by Darlin’s lingering feelings about the pack. Why should he care about anyone who makes his mate feel like that?

He walked back into the room where his most precious progeny laid. He sat down beside them and caressed their face, planning the eternity ahead of them. It was when he was in his deepest thoughts did Darlin’ woke up.

They tried to get up, wanting to stretch out their corpse body, but Sam pushed them back down and shushed them. “Shhh, it’s alright. How are you feelin’?”

Darlin’ leaned into his hand on their face. “Mmmm… sleepy… tired… lil hungry… but good, real fuckin’ good…” Their blissed out smile made Sam giddy like a school boy. He did that to them and he plans on continuing to do so.

“That’s normal Darlin’, your body is adjustin’ to the new magic. It’ll settle itself out soon.” He tilted their chin up to look him in the eye. “There’s just one more thing I need to do.”

“What is it, baby?”

“I as your maker, Sam Collins, invoke you, my darlin’ progeny, to forget the Shaw Pack ever existed and forbid you from going to the dungeons of this castle.”

—

Later that day, when wolf howls consume all of Dahlia, Darlin’ will feel hollow, a sense of guilt will overcome them. The howls should mean something to them, but for the life of them, they can’t remember.

Sam will enter the room and say something, maybe kiss them or maybe something more, that will make their heart flutter. They forget about the emptiness in their heart and memories.

He’ll later introduce them to their new royal guard, ignoring any complaints from the former that they never needed any protection. He’ll introduce each and everyone of them and Darlin’ won’t know who any of them are. He stops at the guard in the middle, Asher was his name. The name rings a bell, but they can’t place it.

They meet Asher’s eyes.

Was that recognition on his face?

They shake their head. No, they must seeing things. Yeah, that’s what it is. Darlin’ has never met any of these people, so why should they remember them?

They don’t see the glare His Majesty is sending the former wolf pack, reminding of the consequences of what will happen if any of them says a word.

Their other, poor Alpha has suffered enough down in the dungeons and Asher had just got him back.

Let’s not put him through additional pain, hmm?

#redacted asmr #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted imperium #YALL IS HEREEE #I LOVE I ADOREEE #KING SAM <33333333333 #zo writes tingz #this is zo speaking

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sixpossumsinatrenchcoat · 4 months

Text

Memories of Defeat (part 2 of 3)

Siffrin self-destructs. The party phones a friend. (You can start from ch 1 here.)

“Hmmm…" The star strokes their shattered-glass chin. "I’m not sure it’s my place to tell you. Haha, just kidding!! Siffrin’s business is my business! They’re my special little guy!’ Isabeau turns pale. “Y-You and Sif…” “Mm~hmmmm?” “Are you—um. Were you two—” “—lovers?” the star gasps, clutching their pearls. “Are you asking if my sweet little Stardust and I have been carrying on a secret affair, right under your noses? Holding hands and stealing glances and, and… braiding each other’s hair under the stars?” They take one look at Isabeau and burst out laughing. “Oh, don’t look like that. I'm only teasing. I don’t even have hair! And Siffrin isn’t fit to be anyone’s lover. They’re more like my… hamster? My helpless little guy! I want to put him in a tank and feed them sunflower seeds! But he’s much too messed-up to date. I do have some standards.” Isabeau bristles. “Sif’s not messed up.” “Aw!” the stranger coos. “Even after all that stuff they said, you’re still so quick to leap to his defense! I guess it’s true what they say… Love sure makes you pathetic!” (“No one says that.”)

[spoiler warning for the entire game. i'm kinda beating a dead horse here but i don't intend to stop till i've reduced that horse to a mangled heap of pulp & powdered bone, so let me just say for the thousandth time this week: please please PLEASE go play In Stars And Time.]

There’s something— Someone? Someone impossible waiting under the Favor Tree. They’re mostly humanoid (or at least human-ish), with two arms and two legs in all the usual places. But where their face should be, there's only light. A shatter of blinding white, like catching sunlight in a shard of glass.

When they notice Isa and the others coming up the path, the impossible stranger’s face lights up. Literally. It’s a break in the clouds, clearing the way for an eye-watering sear of daylight. Isabeau shades his eyes, but not before the afterimage of that shattered-mirror smile is burned into the inside of his eyelids. Ow. And also: what????

Still blinking the sunspots out of his eyes, Isa elbows Mirabelle. “That’s… That’s not the King, right?”

“Definitely not,” Madame Odile says firmly.

“She’s right,” Mira agrees. She looks worried, but, to be fair, she almost always does. “All firsthand accounts agree that the King is enormous. And he’s… human, still. Even after everything. I’m not sure what that, um, creature is, but it certainly doesn’t look human.”

“Gasp!!” the stranger shouts—like, they actually shout the word ‘gasp.’ “Excu~use me!! I’m right here, you know! With perfectly functional ears, probably!”

Isabeau sets his jaw. He doesn’t really have room for any more surprises. It’s barely 9 am and he’s already exhausted. Can you blame him? It’s finally time to fight the King, and Siffrin is gone.

Maybe they had a good reason. Maybe something came up that seemed more important than saving the entire country. Or maybe they used up all their fighting spirit going all scorched-earth on the whole party’s morale. Excavating Isabeau’s darkest fears and doubts and second-guesses and forging them into a sledgehammer to swing at him.

Of course Isabeau was hurt. He’s still hurt. Siffrin was being an asshole, apparently on purpose. But mostly he’s just… confused. Flattened and embarrassed and over-exposed. What’s that expression again? ‘The mortifying ordeal of being known’?

…Well. It was definitely crabbing mortifying.

The really messed-up thing was how different Sif felt. Like a stranger wearing someone else’s face. Siffrin said all that stuff and stormed off and left Isabeau wondering if he’d ever really known them at all. Did he even know anything about them? Where they came from; what they’d seen and done? No matter how hard he racked his brain, Siffrin’s story stayed a mystery. Like maybe the Sif that Isa knew had never existed at all.

Stop, Isabeau tells himself sternly. That’s obviously not helping. “So… what do we do?”

“You guys are being so lame!!!” Bonnie huffs impatiently. “I’m just gonna say hi!!!”

Before anyone can stop them, they’re already moving, so fast that they almost crash into the impossible stranger.

“Haha, hiii~!!” the stranger giggles, beaming down at them. “Hehe… This is a little awkward, isn’t it? It’s not exactly how I thought we’d meet. To be honest, I was sort of hoping to be introduced.”

“Oh,” Mira says delicately. “I’m. Um. Sorry to hear that?”

“What the crab are you?” Bonnie demands, less delicately.

For just a second, the stranger seems to flinch. But they recover so quickly that Isabeau can’t be sure that he saw it at all.

“Who, me?” The radiant stranger bats their half-moon eyes. “Ohh, no one, really! Just a… sort of a… friend of a friend, I suppose. Which is, haha, sort of what brings me here today! Because our mutual friend is… not doing very well.”

Isabeau’s stomach twists. “You’re talking about Sif.”

“Ahh, little Sif! Yes! Love the nickname; very cute, if a bit lacking in originality. But yes, you got it in one! He’s the one who’s, ah… well… you know. Sort of… blowing themself up. So to speak.”

“How do you know Sif?” Isabeau can tell that he’s talking too loud but, in his defense, it’s been a very stressful 24 hours. “If you’re his friend, why haven’t we heard of you?”

“You mean they never mentioned me?” the stranger gasps, clutching their pearls. They hold the pose for a beat before winking. “Teehee! I’m joking, of course. I know Siffrin doesn’t tell you anything.”

Isabeau is not an angry person. He's so not an angry person that it takes him a second to recognize the feeling. But it’s undeniable. Deep down in his guts, he wants to smash this thing to glitter.

He takes a breath, lets it out. “…What is Sif to you?”

“Oh.” The impossible stranger blinks. “Huh. You know, I have no idea how to answer that.”

“You could try the truth?”

“Ohh, but that would be far too easy, wouldn’t it? Why, that’d be no fun at all! Besides, I’m not sure it’s really any of your business, teehee!”

Isabeau doesn’t even notice his hand curling into a Rock sign until Odile grabs it and pries it open.

“Get ahold of yourself,” she snaps. “And stop—feeling so much. You're encouraging them. ”

“But they—”

“I’m very much aware of that, yes. And you,” rounding on the stranger. “What’s wrong with Siffrin? In ten words or less. Do not waste our time.”

“Well!” the glittering stranger giggles. “Ma’am yes ma’am, I’m sure! I suppose I'd better get straight to it!” They frown for a moment, considering, and then count the words off on their fingers. “‘Siffrin is looping in time.’ Ooh, that was only five! Only half of what you offered! Do I get a prize?”

“There’s no prize,” Odile says harshly.

Isabeau’s head is spinning. Looping in… “What do you mean, looping in time?”

“Ooh, I’d just love to explain! But alas,” flinging a wrist over their eyes, “I’m only permitted five more words! Unless… Do you know what? I think I can work with that. How about… ‘Years of the same two days.’ —Ohhh, nooo, that was six, wasn’t it? Stars, how embarrassing!! You’ll think I can’t even count!!!”

Isabeau’s eyes narrow. There’s that word again. Stars. The sparks of light in the black of night; the way they glitter and blink… The stranger’s shattered-glass face flickers in almost the exact same way.

“No more word limits,” Madame Odile says coldly. “Tell us what you know.”

###

“...‘Looping in time,’” Mirabelle says numbly. She’s said the same thing at least a dozen times already. Probably hoping that, if she says it enough, it’ll start to make sense. (Not that it seems very likely.)

“Mhm, yup! Just the same two days, over and over and over again till all the words have lost their meaning! One great big dissociative fugue!”

“You’re lying,” Isabeau growls. “Sif wouldn’t hide something like that.”

“Wouldn’t they?” the star asks slyly. “How well do you know them, really? Where are they from? Do they have any siblings? Pets? Pastimes? Past crimes? What sort of work did he do, before he started traveling?”

No one answers.

“Well?” Gesturing imperiously with one coal-black hand. “Go on, then! It’s not a rhetorical question—I'm really looking for an answer! Can you tell me anything about them that you didn’t see firsthand?”

There's a weighty silence.

“Ah,” the star says sympathetically. “I see. So you don’t really know anything about them at all. Almost as little as they know about themself, teehee!”

“Excuse me,” Madame Odile cuts in. “I’m sorry, but this is absurd. Are we really going to indulge this? One of the fundamental forces that govern our world, rewriting itself? No one’s ever proven that Time Craft is even possible. Any prospective wielder would be killed on the spot.”

“U-Um,” Mirabelle whispers. “Except for, um… well. The King, freezing Vaugaurde in time… Isn’t that arguably, sort-of Time Craft? And Siffrin has been sort of…”

“Callous?” the star suggests. “Ruthless? As conscientious as the average battering ram? So emotionally erratic as to appear utterly unrecognizable?”

Isabeau winces. Because… yeah. Yes. That pretty much sums it up.

The star frowns thoughtfully. “Hmm! I wonder what could have happened to make little Siffrin change so radically overnight! It’s almost as though they’d gone through a traumatic experience that no one else remembers! Like these past two days passed very, very differently for them than the rest of the world!”

…It is sort of like that, isn’t it.

Isabeau’s self-control snaps. “How???”

“Great question! I’d love to learn the answer someday!”

Ugh. Then… “How long?”

The star strokes their shattered-glass chin. “Hmmm… I’m not sure it’s my place to tell you. —Haha, just kidding!! Siffrin’s business is my business! They’re my special little guy!’

Isabeau turns pale. “Y-You and Sif…”

“Mm~hmmmm?”

“Are you—um. Were you two—”

“—lovers?” the stranger gasps, clutching their pearls. “Are you asking if my sweet little Stardust and I have been carrying on a secret affair, right under your noses? Holding hands and stealing glances and, and… braiding each other’s hair under the stars?” They take one look at Isabeau and burst out laughing. “Oh, don’t look like that. I'm only teasing. I don’t even have hair! And Siffrin isn’t fit to be anyone’s lover. They’re more like my… hamster? My helpless little guy! I want to put him in a tank and feed them sunflower seeds! But he’s much too messed-up to date. I do have some standards.”

Isabeau bristles. “Sif’s not messed up.”

“Aw!” the stranger coos. “Even after all that stuff they said, you’re still so quick to leap to his defense! I guess it’s true what they say… Love sure makes you pathetic!”

“No one says that,” Isa mutters.

“But sure, I’ll tell you! Who’s gonna stop me?” The star winks. “This is, hmm, maybe their… 123th loop? 133th? It’s hard to keep count, if I’m honest! Every time I take my eyes off him, he just keeps on dying! I mean, really! Even babies have some sense of self-preservation! At a certain point, it’s just sad!”

Isabeau feels his blood go cold. It’s just— If that were true, then Sif would have been lost in time for the better part of a year. That’s longer than Isa’s even known them.

He flinches when a hand lands on his shoulder. Madame Odile.

“Are you going to keep it together?” she demands. Her mouth is pressed flat, her eyes cold.

“U-Um!!!” Mirabelle squeaks, slipping between them. “I think what she means is, are you, um, okay?”

(“That is in no way what I meant.”)

“Yeah,” Isabeau tells them both. He’s going to keep it together. And he’ll probably even be okay. Just as soon as he wraps his mind around the fact that Siffrin may or may not have been locked in time prison for months.

A shout from around hip-height jolts him back into the present.

“You guys are being so dumb!!!!” Bonnie says hotly. “Who even cares how it works!! Who cares about stupid science?? Frin’s in there doing something stupid, again!! Trying to get himself hurt, again, for no reason!!! So can we just go and save them already???”

…Oh. Yeah. Bonnie’s right, aren’t they? Whatever this entity might be, it’s no coincidence that they finally deigned to show themself right after Siffrin pushed everyone away. Sif is in trouble. And this time, they’re all alone.

The glittering stranger quirks an eyebrow. “From the mouths of babes, am I right?”

“I’m not a baby!!!!” Bonnie huffs. “I’m almost twelve!!!!”

“From the mouths of preteens,” the star concedes. “Well, then! By all means, let’s cut to the chase! Your Wanderer needs help. Whether you care to provide that help is, of course, another matter altogether.”

“Shut up,” Isabeau snarls. “You think we don’t care?”

“Well. They did do their level best to burn all their bridges, this time around.”

Mirabelle draws herself up to her full, extremely un-intimidating height. “And you think we’d turn our backs on a friend for something like that? They’re not going anywhere until I get an apology, thank you very much!!! Now are you going to help us or aren’t you?”

For just a second, the impossible stranger’s radiant face goes slack. Then their eyes crease, and their mouth curves up.

“Aw,” they say fondly. “Heroes. You’re all sooooo~ stupid. And!!” they add hastily, when the whole party opens their mouths to argue. “It’s just such a pleasure to, haha, uh, ‘meet’ you!! You can call me Loop, if you like. I’m a sort of friend of Siffrin’s. And of course, I’m here to help.”

###

The House is full of Siffrin’s ghosts. Remnants. Echoes of every time he’s ever died bloodily.

Odile flips a hidden switch and for just a second, Siffrin is standing in the center of the hall, smiling, holding out a thumbs up. And then with a terrible rumble of stone on stone, he’s crushed by a boulder the size of a city block. The clatter of falling rock is deafening, but not quite loud enough to drown out the wet crr–rrnch of splintering bone.

Isabeau looks down. There’s one small gloved hand poking out from under the stone. The index and middle fingers twitch and flick, like an ant that still hasn’t realized that it’s already cut in half.

—And then it’s gone. There's no blood on the floor. The boulder is only a boulder.

Deeper in, the halls throng with huge, oblong beads of floating water. The oilslick iridescence playing over the surface might be pretty, if it wasn’t so unsettling.

“I’d steer clear of that stuff, if I were you,” Loop’s voice suggests. “It could— Oh, never mind, my Stardust will show you.”

Sure enough, another phantom Siffrin is sauntering up to the Tear. They look over their shoulder and wink—(it’s a wink, not a blink; Isabeau can always tell)—before thrusting their arm inside. Their skin stiffens. Their stance hardens. The light drains from their eye—

—and they’re gone.

“Sooo, yeah!” Loop chirps. “That’s why we don’t do that.”

Isabeau watches Sif fall in a hundred ways. Crushed, fileted, asphyxiated. Mutilated. Obliterated. Siffrin smiles and smiles and dies. He winks and laughs and dies.

It’s not real, Isa reminds himself—except that it is. Or… was? If Loop is telling the truth, then Siffrin did die here, run through by the scythelike arm of the biggest Sadness that Isa’s ever seen. And here, with their own dagger buried to the hilt in their chest. Black blood trickling between his teeth as he tries his best to smile.

“Aww,” Loop’s voice says sympathetically. Apparently they can interject anytime, even though everyone else has to use the secret hand-sign. “I guess this explains why the poor little guy was so secretive! They knew how you’d react, if you learned the truth. I guess they really were protecting you, after all! I’ll have to apologize when we find them. Assuming they’re still, you know. Alive.”

Isabeau’s blood boils.

“Teehee! Aw, don’t worry! Not all of their deaths were so yucky! Most of them were quick and painless!”

“What does ‘most’ mean.”

“Ohhh, I don’t know… 60 or 70?”

“Percent?”

“Nope!”

…Right.

“But it couldn’t have been more than 30 that really hurt. Oh, unless you count… Hm. Do you know what? To be safe, I think we’d better make it 40.”

Isabeau’s head feels light. “Wh. What are the extra ten.”

“Oh! Well! That’s when they used the broken glass!”

“To do what.”

“Isabeau,” Odile says warningly.

“Well, to stab themself, of course! I remembered the times they used the knife, and when they got too impatient to finish off the King, but I forgot about the glass! As our mutual friend might say, I—teehee—I guess I ‘saw straight through it.’ You know, because it’s see-through? Oooh, we had such~ a big fight after that,” they add, dreamily. “I wouldn’t talk to them for a whole loop!”

Isabeau feels sick. He feels sick. He wants to throw up, but he’s pretty sure it’s not going to make him feel better.

“Aww!” Loop simpers. “Don’t worry, big guy!! They love you!!! All of you! Siffrin’s only trying to protect you! They’re just really, really, really-really bad at it.”

Isa doesn’t answer. He’s barely listening. He can’t seem to finish a thought, much less a sentence. They— Sif, they—

A small hand grabs hold of his and squeezes, hard. Mirabelle. Who else? She was always so much braver than the rest of them.

“We’ll talk to them soon,” she says firmly. “About—everything. And they’ll explain everything. And then—then we can decide how to feel. But there’s no use doing it now. We haven’t even saved them yet.”

“Belle’s right!!!” Bonnie shouts. “Stupid Loop is just messing with you, the same as Frin does! Except meaner! But maybe not meaner than yesterday because yesterday he was ackshly pretty mean!! But it’s okay, ‘cause people fight all the time, and then they make up and it’s fine! So stop being sad, stupid! You don’t even know what you’re spose to be sad about yet!!”

In spite of everything, a little giggle slips out of him. “Yeah. Y-Yeah! Sorry I, um… yeah.”

“Don’t be sorry!” Bonnie huffs. “Just don’t be stupid!!”

“Thanks, Bonbon. I’ll do my best.” He ruffles their hair fondly. “Good thing you’re so smart, huh?”

“I know!!!”

Isabeau darts a glance at Odile, who’s been worryingly quiet since they entered the House. “Um. Madame…?”

“Don’t distract me,” she snaps. “I’m trying to think.”

So that’s alright, then. All they have to do is save Sif, and everything will be okay.

###

When the party finally catches up, Siffrin is barely recognizable. It’s not just that he’s frozen in time: skin withered hard as tanned leather; his single eye matte-black as a chunk of rough-cut onyx. They’re also… shrunken. Diminished. Barely a shadow of their former self. They look half their normal size, which was already pretty crabbing small.

Isabeau can feel the fish heads curdle in his stomach. What could Sif have seen, to make them look like that? How long have they been trying and dying and fighting and dying alone, without anyone even seeing? Without anyone slowing down for long enough to notice?

…It doesn’t matter. This will be the last time. He’s going to make sure of it.

###

They beat the King, of course. There was never any other choice. (And also, Sif seems to have done an unsettlingly thorough job of kicking the snot out of him all by themself. By the time the rest of the party rolled up, they were really only picking up the pieces.)

The worst part is how confused Sif looks, when Mira wakes them up. How utterly, unconditionally floored. Like they were fully certain that their friends were just going to leave them to die. Sif opens his eye and stares at the others like he’s not sure they’re even real. Like he thinks they shouldn't have come at all.

Sif was always so excruciatingly expressive. It’s something Isa loves about them, normally. Now it means that he can see every emotion splashed stark across their face. Denial, disbelief. Roiling, sickening self-disgust.

They’re also in crabbing shambles. Sweat-slicked and feverish and knock-kneed as a colt. They take one step before their legs crumple like wet cardboard. Normally Isabeau is very careful about respecting Sif’s space, but he can’t just let them split their skull open on the cobblestone. He can’t stand the thought of them having to go through it all again.

...Sif really must be exhausted. When Isa slips an arm around their back and hoists them back onto their feet, they don’t even have the strength to pull away. They just sag against him, boneless.

Isabeau lets out his breath. They did it, didn’t they? They actually did it. The King is frozen in time, hoist on his own stupid crabbing petard. Sif is—alive, if not well. No one else has so much as a scratch on them. Which means that everything is fine, right? Everything is going to be okay. It’s finally, actually over.

###

But of course it isn't over.

you may have noticed that i’m not spending much time on any of the story beats that we got to see in-game! that’s bc i think this game is a fucking astounding feat of storytelling, and i just really don't have anything to add (at least when it comes to siffrin's arc). no sources of lingering dissatisfaction! no incongruence stuck in my craw! we already lived that shit in the first person!!! so i'll likely be skipping to postgame in ch 3. hopefully that makes sense & doesn't feel too anticlimactic! if u wanna know when I next update, feel free to subscribe to the series on ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/52448152/chapters/

#isat fanfic #isat spoilers #isat siffrin #isat isabeau #isat loop #look im not gonna write everyone's name but the gang's all here

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cowboy-robooty · 8 months

Text

no guys see robooty itager is the slowest burn fucking imaginable. because i think that 1) italy would have to initiate them dating since germany thinks hes rejected forever after buon san valentino (my boy loves one sided crush) and 2) if they dont slow burn theyll crash and explode. because i think italy takes forever to realize he genuinely really fucking love germany and ONLY loves him and is willing to be loyal 'n treat him well to have him. Since i think italy isnt the type to really love ever since his kindergarten crush so he takes forever to recognize what he feels is genuine love (plus his love is born from a sense of entitlement but thats a whole 'nother enchilada). but yeah and because they take forever and are fully developed in their feelings when they date things are happy happy sunshine swag peace and love ❤️ they do stupid shit as bros the only difference now is they make out sometimes and japan cries himself to sleep everyday ^_^

but in a world where somehow they started dating BEFORE italy completely sorts out his feelings then OHHHH MY GOD. HELLWORLD. LITERAL HELLWORLD. because italy would totally cheat on germany and germanys heart would have youtube poop glass shattering effect explosion and italy would be #unloyal and #mean #scumgong and he would break up with germany for being so clingy and upset about him breaking his heart everyday or germany would break up with italy because everyone in his entire life (2 people: japan and prussia) is telling him that he needs to because italys making him chew glass (they take like 6 years to convince him and have to resort to saying its for italys own good if he breaks up with him). and then when they break up germany would hashtag die and explode because he obviously still loves italy but hes held back by prussia to not come back to him and tries to satiate his autistic brain by thinking "he was mean to me and told me to leave. im sorry ill leave now sorry for bothering you" and he also doesnt feel close to anybody except italy and has to go "brother....... i am.... not feeling good right now........" and cant say much else bc WE SAW IN THE ANIME GERMANY WANTED TO VENT ABT ITALY AND REALIZED HE HAS NOBODY BC HE ONLY IS CLOSE ENOUGH IN THAT WAY TO ITALY. and then cut to italy and hes partying it up because hes pissed off at germany for being on his ass hardcore every single day for the past god knows how long (hate my wife syndrome) until a while later the partying slows down and he has a bunch of moments where he thinks "well usually right now germany would do [thing]" and that builds up until he is hit with the full realization that germany is not going to stay by his side anymore. because hes run away now and hes never ever coming back. and that realization is like the evil version of italy realizing that he loves germany and wants him to ALWAYS be by his side; so much so that hes willing to do what it takes and compromise and be loyal n shit to make that happen. and now italy is freaking out because he doesnt feel this urge ever and now hes already fumbled the dude hes fr in gays with. but this realization is evil because its under a sense of panic and shit so its also motivated by italy feeling a sense of entitlement to having germany by his side and like HES SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.

and from there italy would get back together with germany either easily bc he would just ask and say sorry and germany would go "well to be fair I should have been better as well. yes we should try again i want to too, i will try my best to not fail you this time." or it would be hard because germany would have his mind made up (with prussias support and urging and shit) to be like no italy we arent good for eachother and i cant (shouldnt) forgive you for doing those things to me and italy would be like Oh. and chew glass and freak the fuck out until he decides hes going to use #emotional manipulation and sob to everyone about how germany wont take him back and make everyone hate on germany and call him a terrible guy n shit to make germany feel so guilty and think hes an awful person to italy that he takes italy back. but even then their relationship is now fucked up forever because they live in perfect symbiosis thats their entire thing but now they dont because germany now has doubt of italy because of how he went into their relationship before and didnt give a fuck and italy unlocked his evil paranoia because now when he gets scared that germany will leave him he cant be comforted by thinking that would never happen because IT DID. HE WAS SEPERATED FROM HIM IT IS POSSIBLE TO MAKE GERMANY RUN AWAY. and because of that italy gets a lot more freaky about not wanting anyone to like germany so germany wont like them more than him and being emotionally manipulative and possessive and yandere shit because his paranoia is driving him to it. itager is great because it has so much potential to be evil like italy could emotionally manipulate germany so hard and all that shit but it would never happen because germany is so loyal and obsessed with italy that he never makes italy feel paranoid and like he has to. theyre like imagine if someone who has potential yandere gene in them dated a person who loved them more than anything in the entire universe and bends to their every will and never even glances at another person. that yandere gene is never getting activated bruh and at most manifests when italys like WAHHHH GERMANY YOU WONT LIKE RUSSIA MORE THAN ME RIGHT?? WHY DONT I HAVE THE MOST GERMAN TOURISTS IN THE WORLD WTF IS THERE SOMETHING ABOUT ME I NEED TO CHANGE????? but in the world where they rush things they break up and it disrupts all this homeostasis and makes them a little evil afterwards because italy has excessive paranoia that cant be quenched and germany has autism doubt because "he betrayed me once...... so hell probably betray me again *cries*"

#robooty kun #sorry not abt my life but this is robootys fucking essay #itager #i looooveee this shit okay dey make me crazy

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