#also muscle spasms as I was trying to fall asleep! not painful but WEIRD feeling | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

terramous · 3 years

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granite eyes reflect the flames, ‘til the embers start to tire

a 2x10 speculation fic based on the promo <3 title: anson seabra - kerosene word count: 5k bthb - choking AO3

When Carlos woke up, he wasn’t sure why. He’d barely made it up the stairs after his shift ran long, all but collapsing into the bed. He wasn’t expecting to wake up until TK slotted himself in beside Carlos the next morning. But the room was still dark and there were no arms wrapped around Carlos’ waist or the familiar rhythm of warm breath on the back of his neck. Stretching one arm across the mattress in front of him confirmed that he was still alone in the bed.

And then he heard it. The incessant high-pitched beeping of the smoke alarm at the entrance to the bedroom.

Carlos pulled the other pillow over his head, trying to muffle the noise and hopefully fall back asleep. After all, the beeping was probably just because he needed to change the batteries, and he didn’t feel like getting out of bed for that.

But that didn’t make sense.

TK had changed them the other week. He was always so strict when it came to checking the smoke alarms in the condo. And the air smelt like TK’s hair used to after shift. The smoke would cling to his skin and hair while TK was still a firefighter, and Carlos loved it. He loved the way that the smoke and traces of soot mixed with TK’s sweat and he could taste it as he trailed his lips and tongue up his boyfriend’s throat, TK’s fingers knotted in his hair.

But he was alone and TK didn’t come home smelling like smoke anymore.

That caused Carlos to shoot up, instantly more awake. Something was burning, if not on fire.

He could see the dark tendrils of smoke creeping along the upstairs corridor. He always left the bedroom door open when he was expecting TK to come home while he slept. Although TK always told him that it was safer to sleep with it shut if there was a fire. He just hated being woken up by the sound of the door creaking when TK snuck into the bedroom.

He needed to get out.

There wasn’t even a moment to think before Carlos was bolting for the door. His blankets tumbled to the ground behind him. He didn’t care, he needed to figure out what was burning.

He could have just left something on the stove from his half-asleep attempt to throw something together to eat before he went to bed. But that was the best-case scenario and Carlos wasn’t going to put too much faith in that possibility.

Unfortunately, Carlos didn’t even get the chance to go downstairs and check. He hit the top of the stairs and immediately recoiled from the heat. Flames crawled up the staircase, consuming each step as the fire licked up at Carlos. It seemed almost alive and hungry as it had clearly devoured most of his home.

This was bad.

The only other possible exit that didn’t involve windows that didn’t open fully enough to let him out, was the balcony. He could probably stand on it until help came, and at the worst, he could probably jump into the bushes below it.

That was of course until he turned back towards the bedroom and stepped inside, just to see the flames had begun eating their way through the floor, a wall of fire blocking his view of the balcony. As Carlos stumbled backwards to get away from the heat, he felt a searing pain across his ankle. The fire was at the top of the stairs now, starting to travel along the upstairs floor.

He’d been burned.

His head was swimming as he tried to figure out where to go, but it seemed that everywhere he turned was being engulfed in flames.

TK had said many times that fire spreads faster than you think. Carlos had never really realised how true that statement was until this very moment. He also didn’t realise how hot it got inside. He of course assumed it would be hot but he wasn’t expecting the sweat to pour off of him by the bucket.

Looking around for any possible place to go, Carlos breathed a small sigh of relief when he spotted the closet. If he was in there with the door closed he could keep the smoke at bay for long enough to call for help.

So he sprinted for the nightstand and grabbed his phone before darting for the closet and he almost collapsed amongst the clothes as he pulled the double doors shut behind him.

He allowed himself to take a few breaths to calm himself before he dug around for his phone, having dropped it a short distance from where he was sitting on the ground. There was fabric all around him, pairs of pants providing comforting weight on either shoulder as he dialled the familiar three numbers and pressed the phone to his ear.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

Carlos had to suppress a sob at the familiar sound of Grace’s voice. He didn’t know that she was back at work already but he was so glad to hear her on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” She said when Carlos didn’t reply.

“Grace-” Carlos couldn’t help the way his voice cracked as he began to cough. The smoke was less apparent in the closet, but he knew he’d already inhaled plenty. TK was always lecturing him on the dangers of smoke inhalation, how it would be the most likely thing he would die of if he was stuck in a burning building.

And now he was stuck in a burning building and every breath felt weirder than the last.

“Who is this?” Grace asked, still keeping her voice professional and even.

“Grace,” Carlos breathed, unable to figure out what he was meant to say next. He’d never had to call 911 before, preferring to not have emergencies in his own life. He really didn’t know what to say first, who he was, where he was or how close he thought the fire was to the closet door?

He heard a soft sigh on Grace’s end of the phone call. “Sir, you have to tell me who you are so I can help you.”

“Grace, it’s Carlos.”

“Carlos?” Grace’s voice was stiffer now, still professional but if Carlos concentrated on it he could almost detect a hint of fear. “Carlos, what’s wrong?”

“It’s on fire, Grace.”

“What’s on fire?”

“My house.” He had no idea why he was whispering, it’s not like the fire could hear him, but he still couldn’t find it in him to raise his voice.

“Is there anyone else in the house with you?”

“No. No, it’s just me. I’m alone.”

“Isn’t TK there?”

Carlos wasn’t sure whether he wished TK was there with him so that he wasn’t alone, or if he was more glad that TK wasn’t at home and was consequently safe. “He’s working.”

“Then be prepared for him to fret over you. Units have been dispatched to the scene and the 126 is en route.”

Carlos groaned. He didn’t need TK’s coworkers to see him like this.

“Can you get to the door and get outside?”

“No. The fire is downstairs and I’m upstairs. The stairs were on fire by the time the smoke alarm woke me up.”

“Where are you exactly?”

“In the closet.” Carlos chuckled dryly before dissolving into another fit of coughs. The smoke was getting worse, his chest growing tighter with every breath.

“Is there a window you could try to get to when help arrives?”

“There’s the balcony. I’m not sure if I can get there though.”

“That’s okay. Someone will take the ladder up to the balcony and they’ll have a fire extinguisher. We’ll get you out of there, don’t worry.”

“It’s hard-” Carlos was interrupted by another cough. “It’s hard not to worry. It’s getting very hot in here.”

He could feel the way that the thick sheen of sweat clung to his skin, it was making it difficult to hold his phone without it slipping from his grip. His curls were glued to his skin and he wanted nothing more than a shower. Except maybe to no longer be trapped in a burning building, but he wasn’t going to be fussy.

“Just hang tight for me, okay?”

There were a few more coughs this time, the spasms of his muscles making his chest ache. He was crying now, tears running down his cheeks, from the pain or the smoke, he wasn’t sure. Not that he really cared at that point. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask of you.”

Carlos rested his free hand on his chest, his open palm resting atop where his heart was thundering under his skin. He was terrified, although he would never admit it, his heart rate would give him away. That was, of course, if anyone arrived in time.

The air was getting thicker and he was begging to see light through the edges of the closet door as the flames drew closer.

He was going to die here. Cramped in a closet and wearing nothing but his boxers. Not the way he thought he’d go but there was probably some cruel humour to find in it. If he made it out of here, in the future he and TK could laugh about it, but right now it was getting too hard to breathe and he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Carlos.”

“I’m trying not to,” Carlos mumbled as he set his phone down next to him. He barely remembered to put it on speaker. He was losing all of his strength, he really couldn’t even fathom how he would get up and get to the balcony. Maybe Grace could tell the firefighters to just come in and get him.

“Just keep talking to me until I tell you to go to the balcony.”

“Where’s the crew?”

“They’ve pulled up outside. You only have to hold on a little longer, until they can get the ladder up to the balcony. You’re going to be okay, Carlos.”

Carlos laughed as he forced his eyes open. “Aren’t you like, not supposed to tell me that?”

“I make exceptions for my friends.”

“Grace?” Carlos asked, smothering his coughs with his forearm. Every time a cough rocked his body he felt his energy drain. Who knew that the most exhausting part of being trapped in a burning building was the coughing?

“Yeah, Carlos?”

“Am I going to die?”

“No. You’re going to run for the balcony in a sec and they’re going to get you safe and to the hospital.” Grace explained, but Carlos could hear the weird edge to her voice.

“TK’s always talking about smoke inhalation and how bad it is. So even if they get me out of here I could still die, couldn’t I?”

“Technically, but you shouldn’t think like that.”

“Can you tell TK I love him?”

“You can tell him yourself in a matter of minutes.”

“No- Grace, if I die I want you to remind TK that it’s not his fault. He’s going to blame himself, I know he will. I need you to tell him that I don’t blame him, that I never will. You need to tell him that I love him and I’ll never stop loving him.”

“Carlos-”

“Grace,” Carlos said firmly.

“I promise.”

Carlos finally felt like he could breathe. “Thank you.”

“Now use that love for TK to run to the balcony and get back to your boy.”

Carlos gathered up all the strength he could muster, and threw the door to his closet open. This was the moment that defined his future more than any shift or life decision ever could. If he didn’t make it to the balcony now, he was going to die here.

He was going to die. In his boxers and not having the chance to tell everyone how much they mean to him. He wanted to take TK out for dinner tomorrow night, he was meeting up with his parents at Tia Lucy’s in three days. He couldn’t give up now.

He would run for the balcony like he’d never run before. Even if he died now, TK would know that he fought until the end. He would always fight to get back to TK.

The bright orange flames clung to everything Carlos had spent building since he moved into this apartment. It made his chest ache to see his home in the throes of destruction. He’d never be able to come back here, to come back to the memories that he had made here.

The memories with TK would always be his favourite. TK’s side of the bed that TK never seemed to actually sleep on, choosing instead to spend the nights completely entangled with Carlos, was covered in fire.

Stumbling to his feet, his fist curled tightly around his phone, Carlos locked his eyes on the door to the balcony where he could see a firefighter standing with a fire extinguisher in hand, and he ran for it.

Flames licked at his exposed skin as he desperately staggered for his destination. He was so close to getting out of here and to fresh air. He just needed to believe that he could do it.

That, of course, was until the ground let out a deafening creak and Carlos locked fearful eyes with the firefighter. The firefighter gestured for him to keep coming closer but Carlos couldn’t get his limbs to cooperate.

He was going to die.

The floor gave way.

When Carlos finally stopped falling he couldn’t see anything and there was a crushing pressure all around him. He couldn’t take a deep breath even if he wanted to, there was something heavy on his chest.

Everything hurt.

“Grace?” He called out. “Grace, are you there?”

He was met with nothing but silence. It was clear that his phone was long gone. He could almost see Grace’s scared face as she probably called out for him with more desperation than he was crying out for her. He missed her voice. At least when she was on the other end of the phone he didn’t feel so completely alone.

He was going to die alone.

And TK’s team was going to recover his body. He knew they weren’t going to give up on him even if he was dead. They’d pull apart the wreckage until they found his body.

That would destroy TK.

He never wanted to hurt TK but he feared that he may not get a choice in that matter.

After an immeasurable length of time trapped, Carlos could almost swear that he heard his name being called. He wanted to shout back, to tell them that he was here, that he was trapped but he was alive.

He couldn’t take a deep enough breath to do any more than cough pathetically.

There was the light sensation of something falling on his face, maybe some ash or debris. There was the distance scraping and knocking of things being moved. There were people nearby, if only Carlos could stay awake long enough for them to retrieve him, he would be fine.

But his body had other plans. His eyes grew harder and harder to keep open, until eventually he couldn’t anymore.

As his senses dulled, Carlos’ hold on his consciousness slipped.

TK was already suiting up as soon as he tumbled out of the ambulance. The second his boots hit the ground he was retrieving the turnout coat from the ladder truck.

Carlos was trapped in his house that was almost entirely covered in flames. The entire downstairs was burning. He could see the bright orange of fire through all of the windows.

“TK, you should stay with EMS, they might need you,” Owen said as he walked up to his son.

TK shook his head as he finished shoving his boot through the turnout pants. “Tommy said it was fine. She understands.”

“I’m not sure I want you in there. You’re too close to this.”

“He’s been in there too long. You need a medic in there and I have more experience with fires than Tommy and Nancy, if not half of your firefighters.”

He was being harsh. He knew this. But Carlos was in danger and he knew he was the best one for the job. He needed to go in there because everyone else would prioritise their own safety but TK didn’t care about anything other than getting his soulmate out of that house alive.

“Alright. Just wait. Paul’s up on the balcony to get him out. You probably won’t have anything to do other than comfort Carlos on the way to the hospital.”

“If it’s all the same to you. I’m going to wait until Carlos is out of danger before I stop preparing to run in there after him. I know the layout better than anyone, I’m not leaving him there,” TK said as he slung an oxygen tank over his shoulder, his medic kit draped over the other.

“I know, TK.”

“Then let me do my job.”

Owen nodded carefully before turning away from TK. He took a few steps to the side but he knew that TK was still within range to hear the responses over the radio.

As a hand came to rest on TK’s shoulder, he stiffened.

“Just me, kid,” Judd’s familiar voice said from behind him. “You gotta believe that your boy is gonna come back to you, and if anything goes wrong I’ll follow you in there.”

“I’m trying, but he’s all alone in there,” TK said. He couldn’t imagine how scared Carlos was right now and he just wished that he could have been home with Carlos. At least then, Carlos wouldn’t be alone and maybe they could have figured out together how to get out safely.

He couldn’t handle just standing outside and doing nothing while the love of his life could die in an inferno. Carlos was supposed to be sleeping peacefully after a long shift, not fighting for his life.

“He’s in there on the phone with Gracie, if anyone can get him out of there, it’s her.”

Judd stiffened when there was a huge crash from the burning structure and Owen’s radio crackled to life.

“Cap, the bedroom floor gave in,” Paul’s voice said over the radio.

“Can you still get to Carlos?”

The radio crackled again but Paul took a few seconds too long to speak. “Reyes went with the floor, Cap.”

TK didn’t need to hear anything else. He pulled the oxygen mask over his face as he bolted towards the building. There was another set of footsteps pounding on the ground behind him. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that it was Judd.

Without even thinking, TK kicked the door off of it’s hinges. It was second nature as his every thought was consumed with Carlos. He needed to get to Carlos.

He blindly stumbled through the familiar floorplan, headed for the pile of debris in the middle of the room. There wasn’t as much fire on the floor anymore, which was both good and bad. It meant that Carlos was not currently burning alive, but it also meant that everything above them was about to come toppling down at the first wrong move.

But TK didn’t care about that. All he cared about was getting Carlos out of there, or he would die trying. Judd could leave whenever he wanted, but TK would never give up on Carlos.

He started digging before Judd could even catch up. He was grabbing pieces of ceiling and floor and smouldering hunks of furniture, tossing them aside in a desperate panic.

“Carlos!” he screamed. He kept screaming out Carlos’ name, over and over until his throat was raw. And even then he didn’t stop.

Judd fell in place on the other side of the mound, pulling it apart with the same ferocity as TK. He wasn’t as desperate but TK knew that he was giving it everything he had.

TK’s arms were burning with the effort when they were joined. Three other bodies in full turnout gear pulling away the rubble until Judd called out that he had found Carlos’ foot. It was burned and covered in soot but it was there and it was soon followed by another shout of “he’s got a distal pulse!”

Carlos was still alive.

They were all desperate now as they dug.

It only took them a matter of minutes to completely uncover Carlos. He was lying on his back, his eyes closed as he was clearly unconscious. Soot covered his entire- incredibly exposed- body. Blood caked his skin but most of the wound looked superficial, aside from the one on his head that was still bleeding. What was most concerning were the burns. There were large areas of his legs and arms covered in burnt flesh, as well as what looked like the mottled bruising of internal bleeding on Carlos’ chest and abdomen.

TK was already pulling off his turnout gloves and swapping them for the familiar blue latex gloves as he knelt in place near Carlos’ head.

On autopilot he ran his knuckles along Carlos’ sternum, hoping for his boyfriend to wake up and glare at him in response to the pain. But there was nothing.

Everyone else found their place in the scene. TK was vaguely aware of a backboard being laid beside Carlos, ready for TK’s order that it was safe to move him.

“Radio Tommy and get her on standby for when we get him out,” TK said in a voice that was too even and calm for the situation that it startled even him. He was honestly surprised that he was managing to keep his cool at a time like this.

He was mentally running over the steps he needed to take before they could move Carlos and million times before his body kicked into gear.

He checked Carlos’ airway and it was clear, but the amount of soot and burns lining his airway made TK’s panic kick into high-gear.

“Paul, start a line. I’m going to intubate him.”

Now this. This was terrifying.

TK had intubated heaps of patients. Most had been in the back of the ambulance. Some had been in awkward and precarious locations. He’d even intubated a handful of cases of severe smoke inhalation.

But this was going to be the ultimate test. He had to maneuver himself through the rubble to get to a position where he could do this. Carlos’ airway was compromised and he needed to intubate him before there was too much swelling from the smoke to do so.

Carefully, TK tiled Carlos’ head back as little as he could. He wasn’t going to be able to pull this off with a cervical collar on so he needed to be careful. He had his left hand anchoring Carlos’ head in place and his right free to work.

TK’s hand was shaking as he slotted the laryngoscope in Carlos’ mouth. Even with the flashlight on the end of it, he was struggling to get a clear view. It was in a moment like this that he wished Tommy was right next to him and ready to take over, but they didn’t have time for that.

With a few seconds of fiddling he could see his path down Carlos’ throat. It was at this point that it really hit him that this was Carlos and he almost froze. He couldn’t afford to panic so he just held his breath.

It took TK a precious moment or two to gather his bearings and slide the tube in place. He got it in with surprisingly little resistance.

Then it was just a matter of removing the scope, inflating the cuff, and pulling out his stethoscope. There were a few tense seconds where he listened to both sides of Carlos’ chest to determine that he’d placed the tube correctly.

TK felt like he could finally truly breathe once he confirmed that the intubation had gone off without a hitch as he attached the bag and gestured for Paul, Judd and Mateo to help him get Carlos onto the backboard.

The ease at which TK could slip the cervical collar around Carlos’ neck as if it was as simple as breathing was an appreciated change of pace.

Marjan was already radioing that they were getting Carlos ready to bring out when TK carefully scooped his hands under Carlos’ chest.

“On my count,” he instructed.

With the swift count of three they moved Carlos quickly and carefully, like a well oiled machine they got him on the backboard and quickly worked to fasten him in place. TK would never take the mundane tasks of his job for granted ever again, especially because now he could do them without having to think about them, his fear not interfering with his ability to do his job.

In a blur they got Carlos out of the building and onto the gurney that was waiting a matter of feet away from the entrance for them. TK knew he would never be able to fully express his gratitude for his team, but he knew that he would always be there to risk everything for them as they had for Carlos.

Tommy gave TK a nod before she started giving out orders and the gurney was headed towards the ambulance. Carlos was in good hands, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

TK meant to follow the gurney but his legs lost their strength as his adrenaline started to wear off, but Paul and Judd were quick to catch him and offer him a short, yet comforting embrace before dragging him towards the ambulance where he climbed in after Carlos.

Carlos’ senses were overwhelming the second he realised they had returned to him. Everything was loud, there was something scratchy against his skin, everything hurt and he was very cold.

The first thing he did, before even opening his eyes, was take a deep breath.

Which proved itself to be a bad idea because almost instantly, his lungs spasmed and he was launched into full consciousness as he coughed until there were tears running down his face.

But the air was clear and there was a comforting hand on his back.

As his hacking ceased, he was being eased back until he was lying down again. Looking around for the first time since waking up, Carlos saw the only thing he could have wanted to see. TK.

TK who was stroking his hair and looking at him with eyes brimming with tears.

Carlos was the one to break the silence between them. “Hey.”

“Hi,” TK whispered with a watery smile as he brought his hands up to cradle Carlos’ face, his thumbs trailing across Carlos’ skin. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you awake.”

“Did-” Carlos’ sentence was interrupted by a few pitiful coughs. “Did you forget the part where you got shot and were in a coma?”

TK shrugged. “The past is in the past.”

“As soon as I get out of this bed I am going to strangle you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” TK said with a mischievous smile curling at the corners of his lips.

The smile didn’t reach TK’s eyes, however. It was all the information that Carlos needed to be sure that this was a serious hospital visit. He didn’t faint on shift because he forgot to eat or pass out because he drank too much. He could see it in TK’s eyes, his boyfriend was terrified.

There was the added layer of the redness and the tear tracks on TK’s cheeks. He’d been crying. Of course he had.

“What happened?” Carlos asked, lifting a hand to cup TK’s cheek in his palm. TK visibly melted into the touch as he closed his eyes and a few tears slipped free.

“There was a fire at the condo, sweetheart.”

“Are you okay?” Carlos asked, now worried as he scanned TK for any sign of injuries.

TK nodded, biting his bottom lip that Carlos now noticed was raw from being anxiously chewed on for probably a few hours. “Yeah. I’m fine. I was at work.”

“Why do you look like someone ran over your cat?”

“You almost died, Carlos. You were on a ventilator for thirteen hours, they took you off of it about an hour ago but you inhaled a lot of smoke,” TK explained. Carlos ignored the way TK’s voice cracked, it had obviously been a rough time for him.

“Where is everyone?”

“You’re in the ICU, so visitors are limited. Your dad was in here with me not too long ago but he decided to give me some time alone with you. He, your mom, and everyone else are out in the waiting room. We’ve all been very worried.”

“Can we just be alone together for a little while? Just before you go out and get them?”

TK smiled softly as he pressed a kiss to Carlos’ forehead. “We can be alone for as long as you need. No one is going anywhere anytime soon.”

“So you’ll stay?”

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

TK grinned as he said that, and Carlos could see, for the first time since he’d woken up, an emotion on TK’s face that was raw and genuine and didn’t make him want to cry in sympathy.

“Are you going to tape a smoke alarm to my forehead from now on?”

TK pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. “Now, I didn’t think of that, but it’s a really good idea.”

“Do not,” Carlos said firmly, as TK pulled out his phone.

With a soft laugh TK poked his tongue out at Carlos. “I’m ordering smoke detectors.”

Carlos groaned. “You’re a menace.”

“You love me.”

“And you’re pushing your luck.”

#bad things happen bingo #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #userkimmy #tuserjamie #tuserpaige #userjillian #userjillybean #userac #writing*#911 lone star spoilers

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my-reality-my-rules · 3 years

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Hello! Do you have any tips on how to avoid sleeping when trying to shift?

[thanks for this ask!]

this is a really good question right here.

for me, it's a bit easy to stay awake since I'm a naturally jittery person—my legs tend to spasm all the damn time, and i have an irrational urge to bite the nails on my fingers. this leads to me scratching at my arms or pinching my skin when i attempt shifting. for example, i could be visualising, and my body moves on its own. it doesn't particularly hinder me from my train of thought, and it actually pulls me back into consciousness whenever i feel like I'm falling asleep.

are you using a non-sleeping method? I'll admit that i don't use those, so I'm not too familiar with them that much compared to their counterparts.

but!! i think i can give some tips nonetheless.

perhaps you can try focusing on your breathing? at the beginning, it was quite tricky for me to visualise my DR since i wasn't as experienced with things like meditation or manifestation. focusing on my breathing helped me set my mind on a single track, which i found helpful when trying to assert that will to get to my DR. it can be a reason for you to fall asleep, though i find that it works the other way as well. every time i take a breath, i associate it with something from my desired reality, and think about it for a maximum of 10 seconds. i don't go any farther than that since i tend to hyperfixate on things, and might end up daydreaming.

i also bite the sides of my tongue whenever i catch myself falling asleep, as weird as that sounds. it's a little wake-up call, but it works since the sides are quite sensitive. it certainly helps in bringing me back to the waking world, in its own way.

the last thing i do to try to keep myself awake is tightening my muscles every few minutes. i don't know how to explain this properly; but basically i do it so i can 'wake up' my body. it's not just my mind. it's also so i can feel that awareness as a whole, throughout my entire system. it's like stretching, i guess, but in the sense that you don't move too much. I'm not saying you can't move when you're visualising or shifting, but that's how i do it.

I'd recommend more, but they mostly have to deal with a bit of pain. it sounds quite bad when you think about it, but you can't deny that physical sensation(s) can be a good teacher in some cases.

i hope this answers your question! happy shifting ❤️❤️

#shifting #shifting realities #reality shifting #desired reality #shift #Esther's shifting posts

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angstyaches · 4 years

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Hey! A fic where Shayne just CANNOT stop throwing up and Charlie is taking care of him, and outwardly, he seems to appear very calm and methodical to keep Shayne calm (psst Shayne notices and is even more attracted to charlie because he hasn’t seen him be this in command before) but inside Charlie is freaking out big time because he isn’t sure if he’s taking care of Shayne properly or not?? I’m sorry this is so detailed sdgsgs you don’t have to write it if it’s boring or anything

Anon, I love this request so much! I really hope I did it justice. Get ready for some post-reunion Charlie and Shayne (I’ll probably write the actual reunion eventually, but for now we’re time-skipping).

CW: nausea, emeto. Otherwise it’s just bois being Soft.

___

“Hey,” came a soft whisper next to his ear. “You still with me?”

Shayne tried to open his eyes, eyelashes sticking together a bit with dried tears. He was shivering between the arms that were holding him up, drooling slightly against the shoulder supporting his head.

“Hmm?” was all he could manage to get out.

“Poor thing. You must be so tired,” Charlie said, tilting his head to try to get a look at Shayne’s face. “Are you ready to head back to bed, or…?”

Shayne faintly shook his head. The nausea was rushing back in force now that he was awake, now that he’d remembered where he was and what had been happening for the past few hours. He had vague memories of Charlie helping him drink some water right before he’d dozed off there on the floor, and he could feel it sloshing inside him even while sitting still.

“Charlie,” he groaned, reaching for one of Charlie’s hands.

“Yes?”

He didn’t know what he’d wanted to say. He’d just wanted to let Charlie know that he could feel him, that he was glad he was there.

Hot and cold liquid began to gurgle up his throat at the same time. He turned towards the toilet bowl, his body just going through the motions by now. He heard Charlie sigh before he sat forward to stroke Shayne’s back, even though his t-shirt was stuck to his back with chilled sweat by now. His stomach lurched, slamming against his ribs like a fist.

He spat out mouthfuls of water, gasping and coughing as droplets attempted to go the wrong way in his throat. He leaned a little harder against the toilet bowl with each heave, his chin eventually resting on the seat, eyes glistening with fresh tears. His stomach gave a deep rumble, empty again and still writhing inside him as his abdominal muscles spasmed.

“Hey, come here,” Charlie whispered, prying him away from the toilet. Shayne gladly let his body slump against him. He closed his eyes again as Charlie used the sleeve of his hoodie to dry the tears from underneath them.

“Charlie, my stomach,” he whined.

“I know.” Charlie rested his hand on Shayne’s belly, without lifting his t-shirt. Shayne winced and then sighed as Charlie’s fingers began to trace gently up and down. The taller boy nuzzled his face against the back of Shayne’s neck.

Something seemed to flutter in Shayne’s gut, but maybe it was to do with the nausea fading slightly. His stomach hadn’t felt this awful in ages, yet Charlie seemed so sure of his movements that Shayne was falling into a weird sense of calm. The soothing pressure of Charlie’s hand over his belly was forcing his eyelids halfway closed.

He shivered, which Charlie seemed to assume was due to the cold, because he rubbed a hand briskly up the side of his arm.

“Come on, let’s go, huh?” Charlie asked. “You need to get some sleep.”

“Mmm, no...” Shayne looked up with his half-closed eyes as Charlie slid his hands under his elbows. “Still feel sick.”

“You can throw up on me, or on the duvet, or wherever you need to,” Charlie said, starting to get both of them up, “but I’m not letting you sit on this cold floor all night.”

Nausea swirled deep in Shayne’s stomach, and he found his legs too shaky to take his own weight. There was an awful moment when he thought he was going to drop right back down onto the tiles, but thanks to Charlie, it didn’t happen.

“Whoa – it’s okay, lovely, I’ve got you.”

Their eyes met briefly, and Shayne felt that weird flutter again. Usually he couldn’t stand having anyone’s arms looped all the way around him, but this felt different. Charlie was acting so calm and sure of himself, and Shayne didn’t have the urge to push him away.

There was just the urge to keep rolling that word around on his tongue. Lovely. It was the only thing he could focus on to keep his mind off the wrenching pain in his belly. It had a taste to it, like butter melting onto toast. Had Charlie really meant to call him that?

Despite Charlie’s pull, Shayne paused in the bathroom doorway and put his hands to his stomach, overwhelmed with what felt like a wave crashing against its walls. He felt a gurgle working its way up from deep in his gut, burning behind his ribs, making his cheeks ache.

The heaving began so quickly this time that he didn’t think he’d make it back to the toilet, so he turned and puked bright yellow acid into the sink instead. Charlie was practically tangled up in him, and was still holding his waist when he started throwing up again. Shayne’s hands were clammy and kept slipping on the edges of the sink as his stomach flipped over again, with nothing left to force out of him but a weak belch and a dry sob that made Charlie’s heart twist.

“Sorry,” Shayne murmured, shakily bringing one hand up to hold onto Charlie’s. “Can’t... can’t stop.”

“It’s okay,” Charlie sighed. “Take all the time you need, it’s – it’s okay.

Was it okay, though? Charlie couldn’t understand exactly how it was possible to keep throwing up after so long. His heart was threatening to escape up his throat at any minute, his nerves tingling with worry at every retch, every flinch in Shayne’s body.

“Oh, that’s okay, lovely, I’ve got that,” Charlie whispered, reaching for the faucet as he saw Shayne try to do it himself.

There, you said it again. He cringed and tucked his cheek closer to Shayne’s shoulder as the running water cleared the sink a bit. He prayed uselessly that Shayne had managed to not hear him both times he’d called him lovely. God, he was a mess, and he wasn’t even the one who couldn’t stop puking. He needed to get it together.

“You okay?” he asked. “Ready to try for the bed again?”

Shayne nodded and kept a weak grip on Charlie’s hand as he turned around. Charlie was sure his heart was going to burst as he let him wrap his arms around him for the second time that night.

Charlie grew anxious again when he noticed how Shayne kept his hands on his belly all the way back to bed, as though he was afraid something was going to fall out if he let go. Maybe it would have been better to let Shayne stay by the toilet for as long as he wanted, instead of dragging him to bed, but… Charlie’s chest ached at the thought of Shayne falling asleep on the cold floor again, when they could be tucked up under the duvet together.

Charlie eased Shayne down onto the edge of the bed, but instead of lying down, Shayne let out a whimper and leaned forward slowly. He rested the top of his head against Charlie’s belly while keeping his hands pressed to his own. Charlie’s spine tingled, and he gently traced his fingertips over the back of Shayne’s neck and up into his soft dark curls.

“Shayne, are you –?”

He was cut off by a muffled retching sound, which made Shayne’s spine curl harshly. There was a slight choking sound as the dark-haired boy lifted one hand to his mouth. Charlie stepped back a little to see that he had retched up a thin string of liquid that now ran from his lips to his palm.

“Shit,” Shayne mumbled.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Charlie said, rubbing a hand across his shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

He grabbed the hand towel from the bathroom, running one corner of it under the tap for a few seconds. When he made it back to the side of the bed, he knelt down and cleaned the mess from Shayne’s face and hands.

“Still –” Shayne scoffed weakly. “Still think I’m lovely?”

Charlie’s heart sank. Of course, he heard the little pet name. He looked up from the floor, ready to try to explain it all away somehow, maybe by blaming the verbal slips on nerves and exhaustion. What he wasn’t expecting was to see Shayne’s dark brown eyes filling up with tears and shying away from meeting Charlie’s gaze.

“Yes,” Charlie whispered, dropping the towel on the floor without looking away. He swallowed against a lump in his throat and climbed up onto the bed. “You want to know a little secret?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I always think you’re lovely.”

Shayne leaned against Charlie’s shoulder, laying a shaky hand on his knee. Charlie felt both a thrill and a wave of relief, the combination of which made his head feel a little funny. He ran a hand up and down Shayne’s back and nuzzled his cheek against his curls.

“Let’s lie down, yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

Charlie got in first, holding out his arm for Shayne to curl up with his back against him. Their fingers slipped together under the sheets. The bedside lamp was still on, Charlie realised, but there was no way he was moving from this position again.

Charlie felt a little guilty for allowing himself a smile while Shayne was probably feeling miserable. “How are you feeling now?”

“Mmm,” Shayne mumbled against the pillow. “My stomach hurts, but this - this is... good.”

“Good.” Charlie once again nuzzled the back of Shayne’s head. He was quickly getting used to the smell and feel of his hair against his face, yet felt like he’d never, ever get sick of it. “If I gently rubbed your tummy, would that also be good? Or would it make you nauseous again..?”

Shayne’s heart skipped a beat. He was already guiding Charlie’s hand down, lifting his t-shirt out of the way and letting Charlie’s hand slip underneath. He’d thrown up so much that he could feel how empty he was, and the emptiness itself had brought on its own kind of ache.

Charlie rubbed soft, wide circles over his belly with the palm of his hand, causing Shayne to melt further into the mattress, the pillow, the warmth of another body. The caring touches seemed to slowly chase out the ache and fill up the hollow spaces left behind by the nausea.

His eyelids continued getting heavier, and he meant to say something to Charlie about falling asleep, but he never got around to it before drifting off.

Charlie also found his eyes closing sporadically, found his hand drifting to a stop at intervals. He smiled faintly to himself when he heard Shayne’s breathing deepen. He pressed a kiss into his hair before tucking his face away again. He fell asleep holding Shayne like one of them would fall off the bed if he decided to let go.

#sickfic #emeto sickfic #emeto #shayne and charlie #oc sickfic #oc emeto #emeto fic #nausea #stomach ache #belly rubs #just the bois being soft for each other #aagghh

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poison--ivory · 3 years

Text

Get back Up Chapter 4

The bits of his nightmare are still fresh in his thoughts and lingered on his mind. The black holes of what should be eyes strangled him without him even touching his body.

His mind started playing false scenarios of this nightmarish creature in different scenarios. He imagined going to sleep and being startled awake. Coming to the realization of not being able to move, paralyzed from head to toe. Trying to thrash himself around to get his body to react to any of his muscle spasms. The suspicion of an unknown entity within his room made him feel uneasy and if he could just flinch awake and scope the area out the feeling would simmer down and slowly go away.

His first mistake in this scenario was to blink. That's all it took was a quick closing of the eyes and a single second for that suspicion to grow into terror. A misty shadow from the corner of his eye darted across the room and disappeared into the darkness. Having anything in your room while you slept would cause anyone to feel restless. Next he closed his eyes again and the shadow rushed right beside his bedside. He made out features on its face and body, nonetheless the eyes and the mouth threw him off. Its mouth was too far stretched out causing skin to peel and the teeth didn’t make this any better. Sharp enough to cut wood without breaking or even cracking. But, it’s eyes are what tie it together. Beady, cloudy, white eyes peered through black sludged sockets. His mouth slowly shifts with each calm breath and the insufferable, rotten smell of his heated breath blowing down at his face. The stench of bad meat filled his airways and the contact of the creature's saliva slid down his forehead and slowly made contact with his ear. He knows it's just a dream, but it feels too real to be anything near it.Then soon after he’d arched his back up to and the creature seemed to be gone. Thereafter he had the troubles of trying to fall back asleep again. But, the feeling of someone still in the room with him staring daggers into the back of his head caused him to flip over to gaze at the wall. The little kid in him would come out at that point and would try to justify to itself that curling up underneath the thick, warm blankets would keep him safe.

This scenario was the most unsettling when he thinks about it. The others are subpar at best when compared.

Anthony couldn’t speak, it was like his mouth, his tongue to be more specific swelled in his throat and was expanding with each second passing. He took huge gulps of air in to make sure his esophagus was working. That hellish nightmare still had him drench in cold sweat, harsh chills rolled up and down his spine and he couldn’t fight that image from his night terror out of his thoughts. He can still feel the searing hot flesh of the beast’s gaping jaw swallowing half his body before snapping down on his waistline. He still hears the breaking of his spinal cord and the gushing noise of fresh blood hitting the cramp space walls and the warm feeling of liquid escaping his nostrils and mouth, overflowing and consuming his airway passages. He’d be lying right now if he didn’t feel a little bit of pain in his chest. The painkillers worked miracles on his body. But, they didn’t stop the constant panging of discomfort still in his chest cavity.

He officially loathes whatever creature (Y/n) married. Anthony really doesn’t want to admit to it, but this peculiar man petrified him. He could already feel the bile rising and burning his windpipe. The acidic fluid rose up and out of instinct he swallowed, his old man always hated it when he couldn’t make it to the toilet on time. That and it’s pretty disgusting cleaning up partially digested food out between the fibers of a carpet. The only thing that would come up at this point would probably be the tea he drank earlier.

The only thing stopping him from spilling his stomach acid on the tile floor was the fact (Y/n)’s children were staring at him, they had just shoveled food down their gullets and he didn’t want to start a puke fest. Even though it would be hilariously gross to freak out little kids. He still wanted to hang onto the last strain of dignity he had left and little kids came up with the worst nicknames that could shrivel his ego down into size.

“Are you. . . okay, Tony?” Her mellow aura consumed his disquiet appearance. She lightly held his hand and guided him over to the table situating him in her seat, taking her half finished plate with her as well. “Are you hungry, because we still have some eggs and bacon left. I can make you a small plate, if you want?” She was already reaching for a clean plate before he could even form a complete sentence. He ignored the stare of the beast’s harsh gaze.

While (Y/n) focused on piling his dish and the man sitting across from him stared him down. Anthony glanced over at the children. The two older kids sitting diagonal from him looked very similar and were talking in a language he really couldn’t describe. They both had pretty long hair and shockingly similar side profiles, eye shape and lip shape. The girl and boy took more after their mother in both features and energy.

The other kid was amazingly small to the other two. The tiny child peered up at him through bang covered eyes like he felt him staring at him. Now that he's thinking about it he recognized this kid as the child from the couch earlier. He was much smaller on closer inspection. He has a decent size beauty mark on the left side of his face underneath his chestnut brown eye. His hair style is nearly the same as his fathers, although he found it cute on this kid from the latter. This kid seemed to be very docile, hugging a small pastel green pillow, snuggling it up against his face and chest. On closer inspection of the petite child he noticed the really far away blank look in the boy’s eyes. Kind of like a dead goldfish.

His thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched voice.

“You're very weird looking, ya know.” The older boy spoke up a smirk pulling on the corners of his mouth.

If he could slap a kid and get away with it he would do that in this moment.

“That’s what Sage told me earlier when we snuck in to see you, he also said your legs look like chopsticks.” He shoved his face deeper in the soft material, still gazing directly at him. He hasn’t blinked yet the small bright red veins proved that.

“Well, I’ll have you know that many people find me attractive.” The two young boys raised inquisitive eyebrows at the older man then laughed. “What the hell are you two short stacks laughing at?”

“Your dialect it’s very funny.” The girl chimed in, gazing up from her pile of eggs she’s been picking at since he sat down. “You usually hear your type of voice on cartoon shows.”

“Excuse me for having such a great voice.”

“Yeah, a great voice to keel over to.” The older boy laughed harder. “Ya sound like a cartoon mob boss.”

“Mmh, really funny sounding.” The girl chimed in.

At this point he just really wanted to eat whatever (Y/n)’s puts in front of him and just go back to sleep, again. Her children were a prick on his dick and the total opposite of what he expected would come from between her legs. Well, they do have half of the demons genes in them and would explain why the youngest seems so weird and the other two to be. . . themselves.

(Y/n) strided back over her hips swayed from side to side and she sat a hot plate of eggs and sausage down next to him. She smiled at him before returning back to the sink, not before getting a harsh slap on the ass from the bastard, clashing dishes filled the kitchen’s already noisy room.

Anthony could feel the saliva build up in his mouth as he took in the savory smell of seasoned meat and eggs meeting his nostrils. He must have looked like a slob heaping large amounts of egg into his gaping jaw. It’s been awhile since he’s had a nice meal, he’s usually used to small snacks and the strict health regimen that Val put him on. Even when eating with Cherri it was usually something unhealthy or a quick to go item before he performed on stage.

He was so enamored with the food he didn’t even see the man sitting at the other side of the table rise until he heard giggling. He looked up for a split second before hurriedly turning his head back to the plate. Anthony really didn’t want to see two people kiss especially when he’s eating. Like those high school couples who makeout in the doorway of a classroom, well at least it’s in their home and not causing a problem. But, right now he didn’t want to up chuck what he just ate.

“See you after work my dear,” Another smooch could be heard then he sauntered over to the three kids. Lightly pecking his daughters cheek before ruffling his two sons heads. “Be good for your mom and be nice to our guest while he’s here. We don’t want anything unseemingly happening while he’s in our caring hands.”

They probably didn’t hear it or just ignored the way he phrased the word, but Anthony sure did. Like he planned to do other things to him while he stayed here. Before he could fully make eye contact with the beast itself the man already was walking out into the corridor leading to the front door.

A minute later he could hear the jingling of keys scraping against glass and a door opening and slamming shut. Silence took over the room and he noticed that the two older kids finally stopped laughing. Their breathing slowed down for a bit before they continued their onslaught of giggling.

The dead eyed child was staring at him again. It annoyed him more than it scared him. The young boy blinked a few times before he shoved his small face into his pillow not bringing his head back up.

Anthony mustered up a small chuckled and returned to his plate eating every last piece. He was sensible enough to actually walk his plate over to the sink that would be a lot more helpful, but he’s mostly doing it to squeeze more info from (Y/n).

How the hell did someone like her end up in a relationship with that monster. She has to know some weird secrets about this guy. Or at least tell him how she got stuck in this marriage.

Anthony set his plate off to the side of her, she smiled at him nodding her head before placing the next dish in the drying rack. “So. . . your face is telling me that your brain has a lot of questions for me.” A smirk graced her features, he hated that she could read him like a book. Her wet hands dried themselves on her sweatpants, “Can you guys go play upstairs, while mommy talks with Mr. Anthony.” The two older kids left without question like this were trained into their brains. But, the youngest seems to sit firmly in his chair not even budging an inch or showing any choice of leaving. His intense gaze focused in on (Y/n), she heaved a big sigh picking the small child up and sat down with him. The pillow was quickly forgotten by the small boy as he wrapped his thin arms around his mother.His short legs hung lifelessly on both sides while his arms latched on for dear life around her neck and shoulders. “I hope you don’t mind the extra passenger. We also have to make this quick. I have to edit some papers of mine before the due date.” She managed a meek smile.

“No, I don’t mind.” Anthony glanced back at the small child and the deadlock grip he had on her. “He’s a real mama’s boy, huh.” He smirked.

“He doesn’t like being left alone.” She pushed the boy up further to situate him in a better position, a loud roar of thunder broke the short silence. Making the small boy gasp in shock and burying his face deeper into her neck. “So, you have some questions you want me to answer, right?”

“Yeah, how the hell did you end up with him!” He exclaimed.

“Didn’t I already tell you this earlier or are the meds warping your brain.”

“No,I remember but, I want the full story this time. From beginning to end with no holes.”

(Y/n) paused, her facial expression going dead for a moment before coming back to life and she smiled sweetly at him.

“I’ll tell you the whole story, Toni. But, it’s pretty long and kind of weird now that I think about it.” The kid in her lap settled down on her lap nicely like a small cat or a non hyper dog. “So, buckle in because I’m going to tell you quite a story.”

Anthony situated his back further in the wooden chair, his gaze solely focused on her and only her. Strong yet such kind eyes stared back at him and he could see why someone would fall for her. A forced swallow of air down his windpipe left a weird aftertaste in his mouth.

Releasing a big sigh he nodded over at her to continue, “I’m ready.”

The little boy turned his head around address his presence,"Just tell the story, mama."

"I'm going to give me a minute I'm trying to think of good starting mark." Her eyes lit up with her smile as she stared me down. "Well if I had to start the story off at. I guess I have to start it at a small cafe over a order of venison."

#hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel human au #human au #human angel dust #human alastor #alastor being a jerk #alastor being alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel

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rainandhotchocolate · 4 years

Text

Blackout - Part 3

A/N What??? COnsistent posting???? Wild times my friends - hope you enjoy! I know it’s a lot of filler stuff, but I’m kind of enjoying writing the storyline, so I promise Sirius will be in it more next chapter :)

~~~

Lily visited almost every day bringing baskets of sweets and books and other memories to try and see if anything was beginning to come back. The healers had been in and out just as frequently, taking tests and checking her injuries. The purple slashes across her stomach were fading but still hurt to sit up if she curved her stomach at all, the bandages needing replacement every eight hours to make sure they didn’t become infected with the curse that had hit her.

The healers had come into the room on the ninth day she was there and sat down in front of her with a look on their faces that made her immediately uncomfortable. They asked Lily if Y/N had any other family and let her stay when she said no, quite sternly.

“So, we wanted to discuss the results of the tests we’ve done over the past few days and we want to reas-,” Turpin started, but Y/N cut him off.

“Please no pleasantries, just lay it on me.” Y/N could feel her whole-body tensing. There was a sickening feeling in her stomach as the three healers and Lily sat and watched her, as if she was a case study.

“Can do,” Turpin smiled at her, “We can determine the differing spells that you were hit with, maledictione pessima, which has caused the injuries on your stomach. There is evidence of the cruciatus curse having caused muscle spasm and tendon tears along your legs. In terms of your memory function, obviously there has been some difficulty remembering more recent events but you have a grasp on who you are and your family history. From what we can tell, it is likely that you were hit with Obliviate but was hit with a reflection of the spell, and likely a weak casting of the spell from someone who didn’t have their own wand.”

“What does that mean?” Lily asked for Y/N, who was staring at the healers, mouth gaping slightly. She knew this was a possibility, of course, given the amount of confusion there had been about the last few weeks… or was it months? How many memories have disappeared?

“It means that more surface level memories, likely the most recent memories or things of less importance – songs, etc – Y/N will be unable to remember. Anything that has a stronger tie to herself, or memories that are long-lasting seem to be ok.”

“So, what can we do? It’s not a full spell so there must be a way to break it, I’ve read about memory charms being broken before so it’s not impossible-“ Lily had started, watching the healers closely for a reaction but Turpin cut her off before she could get more aggressive.

“A lot of the examples of memory spells being broken are by very dark magic, and do not take into consideration the wellbeing of the patient.” He paused, looking back at Y/N. “You would likely be irreparably injured if that were done.”

“Having said that,” He continued, giving Lily a look as she went to open her mouth again. “There are memory potions we can administer to try to pull up old emotions and memories, but this isn’t a guarantee and isn’t the most pleasant of experiences.”

“Does it cause any lasting damage?” Y/N swallowed hard and tried to moisten her very dry mouth.

“No, these potions don’t cause any damage. But I do need to repeat that they are not pleasant and can be painful or uncomfortable. I won’t make you decide now, you can have a think about it and see where you are at.”

“Yeah, ok.” Y/N nodded at him, trying to smile but it turned into a grimace.

“Bringing in old belongings is still a good idea also,” Turpin turned back to Lily who was still holding a large photography book that had images of them in school. “Did you have any questions?”

“No, I mean I probably will, but no.” Y/N wanted him to leave, wanted everyone to leave, wanted to not be here in this bright white room with white curtains and light blue sheets and people serving her food on a tray and potions in a jug every three hours.

“Ok, we’ll leave you to rest, Lily only o-“

“One more hour I know, I know.”

Turpin gave them both a smile and turned on the spot to direct the other two healers out of the room. Lily had paused momentarily before she stood up and hurried after him. Y/N could hear them talking in hushed voices in the corner of the room, but had to strain to hear each word.

“It will depend on Y/N, it’s really up to her and if she feels comfortable.”

“But he’s her partner, I mean surely that’s a strong enough memory.”

“If she can’t recall this part of their relationship it might be more distressing than calming for her.”

Y/N pretended to look back at the books Lily had given her as Lily walked back over, chewing her lip fervently.

“Everything ok?” Y/N kept her eyes down, not wanting to ask what she was talking about outright. Not that she wasn’t fully aware of what Lily had been asking. Y/N could hear him talking to her before she came in every morning, small hisses and growls of words that was too low for her to hear.

“Yes, all ok – do you feel ok? After hearing all that?”

“Yeah, I mean no. I just,” Y/N could feel herself get frustrated at the struggle her brain was having trying to remember again and had to pause to calm herself down. “I just don’t know how I can just forget something, just like that, like a hole in my life that I won’t get back.”

“Yeah,” Lily sighed, sinking back into her chair.

“So…” Y/N raised her eyebrows at Lily expectantly, “Were you going to tell me that he’s been here every day?”

Lily grimaced awkwardly.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know what you wanted, it’s so weird, you know? I mean of course you know what a stupid question you’re the one dealing with it I – “ She cut herself off with a shake of the head. “He’s wanted to see you but we didn’t know if it would just make you uncomfortable.”

Y/N nodded her head slowly, not sure how to respond. They hadn’t spoken about Sirius yet, though Y/N knew that Lily was itching to talk to her about it but was too scared to ask.

“Did you want to talk about him?” Lily crooks her head to one side, green eyes piercing into Y/N’s, making her squirm a little. She hated when she did that, it made you want to tell her everything. No wonder she wanted to be a healer. Or is a healer? Merli-

“Y/N?”

“Sorry I… yes. I think so? Fucking hell I can’t make a decision to save my life.”

Lily snorted and leaned down to pull her bag out from under the bed. She slid her hand in and took out another photo album that was a deep maroon colour and placed it on the bed. Lily looked back up at Y/N and then at the album.

“Did you want to open it?”

“I mean sure?” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her very serious expression, “It’s not going to stun me upon opening is it?”

“No,” Lily grinned in response, “It’s an album of the photos you and Sirius took together, he dropped it off yesterday for me to bring in to you.”

“Ah.”

Lily pulled herself closer to Y/N and opened the book to the first page. There were two large photos of a group of people standing in front of a fireplace in someone’s house. Y/N sat up slightly so she could lean in and look a little closer at the photo. She was able to make out faces of people she went to school with, Frank and Alice leaning into each other and holding hands, Marlene grinning boisterously with her hand running through her wild blonde hair, Fabian and Gideon Prewett making faces at the camera.

“There’s us,” Lily pointed at the other side of the image where Y/N could see Lily’s fiery red hair leaning into James’s, arm around Y/N on the other side of her, grinning just as wide as the rest of them. Behind her was Sirius, Peter, and Remus, in that order, Sirius placing his chin atop of Y/N’s head, a crooked smile pulling up his cheeks, his hands hovering above her shoulders as if unsure if he should lay them down or not.

It was surreal, looking down at herself and not having the faintest memory of when it was or what was happening in the image in front of her. Sirius looked so happy. She looked happy. It felt fake, like someone had forged the image and was trying to implant false memories of her life.

“That was soon after you met, well not met obviously since you knew him at school, but like met again. Properly. I think he asked you out a few days later.” Lily was smiling down at the photo, fingers tracing over some of the faces. She looked up at Y/N, face changing quickly. “Oh shit, Y/N are you ok?”

“I…” Y/N’s voice cracked and she felt a track of water slipping down her cheek and into her mouth. “I…don’t remember.”

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” Lily snapped the book shut and stood up so she could pull her into a hug. Y/N felt her breath hitch as the sobs came hard and fast in her throat and tears began to fall.

“I…don’t know…why I’m crying,” Y/N heaved, gripping tight to Lily’s back, trying to find comfort in the soft green jumper she was wearing.

“It’s overwhelming, I’m sorry maybe you weren’t ready yet.”

“I just…why can’t I remember? None of this feels real, I feel like everyone is lying to me, like it’s a whole big fucking prank and I’m going to wake up tomorrow with Gideon telling me he got me good.” Y/N sniffed, pulling away and trying to take in a deep breath.

“Gideon…?” Lily’s face remained calm, but her tone was off.

“Yes, why? Did he visit when I was asleep?” Y/N felt her heart skip a beat suddenly. At least it was still working.

“No, he, uh, no he hasn’t yet.”

“Oh.”

There was a long pause where they both sat back and looked away from one another.

“What is the last thing you remember, of us, like something we did together.” Lily asked.

Y/N bit her lip, trying to think back to the last time she saw Lily without the building dread that it might have been years earlier than the actual last time.

“I remember us getting coffee, at that muggle place near your house in Godric’s Hollow.” Y/N could see Lily, giggly and bright eyed, showing off her hand- “You’d just gotten engaged! I remember you showing off the ring that matched your eyes.”

Y/N beamed at Lily excitedly, feeling immediately dulled as Lily’s returning smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re married, aren’t you.”

“Might be.”

“Fuck.”

“If it makes you feel better, you were there, and made a proper fool of yourself dancing.” Lily looked at her a little wistfully.

“I expect you to bring in the full album of photos tomorrow, I need a re-enactment.”

“Deal.”

“And… you can tell him to come. If you want. Just… I don’t know if seeing me will make him feel better or worse. You know?”

“Yeah, I’ll see how it goes.” Lily squeezed her hand tightly, “I’m just glad you’re going to be ok.”

Alive, and having missed my best friend’s wedding and falling in love with Sirius Black Y/N thought, a little bitterly, but kept smiling for Lily’s sake.

Taglist:

@averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco @sly-vixen-up2nogood @sirius-lysad @evyiione @minerva26love @aikeia @gollyderek @greatwombatblaze @songforhema @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom @hermionie-is-my-queen @demiwitch527 siobhanhope delightfuldela nadinissavage fleurmoon treestarrrrrrrr @with1love1anu @findzelda @brighteyedmichelle a-dorky-book-keeper placeforcoolusername damalseer

#rainandhotchocolate #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius x y/n #maruaders x reader #lily evans #marauders x y/n #sirius black fanfiction

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breakingsomething · 4 years

Text

french toast

basic summary: jameson makes breakfast.

trigger warnings: read the tags! i was worried putting the warnings here would spoil the fic, so look in the tags if you want to know :)

the sun came up the same every morning. five am exactly, jameson knew. time was something he was intimately familiar with in a way he couldn't explain. it ran through his veins with his blood. it rang in his ears every second of the day. it burned in his fingers and warmed every tear that he spilled. he owned it. there wasn't another man living who was as powerful as he was.

and nobody knew it but him.

it was far too cold in the bed. jameson couldn't feel anti beside him. that wasn't unusual, or normally wouldn't be, except for the fact that it was very early and he knew anti hadn't gone to bed until just past two. he'd heard him having a nightmare at twenty past three. after that he'd gone silent, and jameson had properly slept. now, he sat up, blinking and rubbing his eyes, adjusting to the empty, slowly lightening room. he wished they has curtains, but he supposed beggars couldn't be choosers when it came to a situation like theirs.

looking around, it made him wonder what the creator's boys were doing right now. probably all still sleeping, maybe eating food that they hadn't stolen or fought tooth and nail for. maybe when they woke, they'd take a shower without worrying about the hot water bill for a house not registered under their name. maybe they'd dress in clothes they picked out themselves. maybe they'd spend the day thinking of pastries and youtube videos and magic and jewelry and whatever else people thought of. not a thought to be spared for anyone else. jameson almost snorted at the thought.

his bare feet padded to the door, the silence almost deafening. his heart raced in his ears. a-n-t-i? he knocked on the doorframe, to which he got no response. probably for the best. definitely for the best. gave jameson a bit more time.

he went over to the cupboard and quickly pulled on some proper clothes, a blue hoodie and black tracksuit bottoms with mismatched socks that had holes at the top. drank some water that he'd left on his bedside. then he pulled out something that he'd hidden in between his sketchbook pages and slipped it in his pocket, along with something else that he'd hidden in his shoes. just as precautions. eventually, he went to the bathroom and quickly brushed his hair with his fingers before slowly making his way downstairs.

anti was sitting at the kitchen table. he didn't look up when jameson came in, though; he was slumped over with his face in his arms, whistling softly in his sleep. jameson wasn't used to seeing him in just a t-shirt, and for a moment he just stared at his ink black tattoos, marred by raised pink scars from an event jameson hadn't been around to witness, which he was grateful for. anti's hair was getting long too, falling in curls around his freckled face. right now, it was almost hard to look at him and see him as a manipulative murderer, a torturer, an actor and a kidnapper and a liar and a thief. but jameson knew he was. he always had been.

he wished he could have seen it earlier.

he made breakfast. he'd managed to convince anti that he wanted to try his hand at cooking, and his brother had relented after just a few days of begging for ingredients. eggs, vanilla extract, yoghurt and berries - french toast was on the menu this morning. by the time anti had slowly begun to stir, the scent had filled the warm kitchen, making the house that wasn't theirs feel so much more cosy. anti yawned, shaking his arms out and wincing. jameson watched him with a raised eyebrow and a soft smile, waiting for his brother to notice him.

it took a moment before he did. "oh - morning, dap," anti mumbled, scrubbing sleep from his eyes. "what the fuck're you… it's, like, six am, shouldn't even you still be asleep?"

jameson grinned, holding up the two plates he'd already set up and placing the left one proudly in front of anti. "toast," he signed as soon as he had both hands free. "french toast. also, i'm an early bird. figured i'd use my time well."

he sat at the table and slid a fork across the table to a surprised anti, who caught it and stared down at his plate in amazement. "you absolute mad lad, dapper," he grinned, brown eyes flashing. "i knew it was a good idea to let you buy all that shit."

that was bullshit. anti hadn't wanted to buy it at all, and jameson had had to behave perfectly to his older brother's standards in order to get it. like a dog being rewarded with a treat. jameson bit his lip hard and didn't respond, forcing a smile onto his face.

they dug in, the two of them eating in relative silence as a conversation was difficult to have when one party couldn't speak without their hands. jameson tapped the edge of his plate with his fork, the sound ringing out in the quiet. his hoodie pocket felt suddenly very heavy, despite it now being lighter than before.

"doing anything today?" he asked once he'd eaten a few bites, setting the fork down at the side. he didn't feel very hungry. anti bobbed his head and held up a hand while he swallowed, coughing into his hand immediately after.

"i have to go shopping soon, actually," he said, drumming his fingers on the table to a tune jameson didn't recognize. "do we need anything specific? i can definitely get more of this shit if we need any, ha. i know we need, uhh… fuck, my head hurts and i don't remember shit." he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. "d'you know, dap? anything important?"

jameson waited for anti to remember that he wouldn't be able to hear his brother's reply and sheepishly open his eyes before responding. "i don't think we'll need anything. as far as i'm aware, it's all taken care of."

anti furrowed his brows, frowning. "i'm sure we… needed something. i dunno what it was." he yawned again, shivering. "christ, it's gotten dead cold in here. and for some reason, i'm still tired as shit."

"why'd you sleep down here?" jameson asked. might as well ask. anti did love to talk about himself.

it took the man a moment to respond, and when he did, his voice was slightly slurred. "had a weird fuckin' dream, didn't wanna be 'round you. was gonna sleep on the couch, but i came in here for water 'n i fell 'sleep…" he suddenly coughed again, doubling over and covering his face. when he sat up again, he had gone very pale, hair sticking to his face with sweat. "shit, i don't… don't feel well, what th'fuck…"

this time when he coughed, his hands came away from his mouth red. "fuck!" he swore, trying to stagger to his feet. but his legs gave out beneath him and he crumpled to the floor, gasping and wheezing. "fuck, fuck, i'm - dap, help me up, shit!"

jameson watched calmly from his place at the table. anti looked up with desperate eyes that widened as he saw his brother's blank expression, pupils dilating to pinpricks. "dap?" he rasped, retching with a hand clamped over his mouth. "wh-what the fuck did you -"

"a-r-s-e-n-i-c," jameson signed with a smile. his movements were smooth and deliberate in comparison to anti's pained thrashing. "i went classic. there was enough in there to kill a man in half an hour, i'd say. i'm surprised you didn't taste it. you may be experiencing nausea and vomiting, muscle cramps, dizziness, abnormal heart rhythm, sudden convulsions…"

he trailed off, smirking as anti clawed at his throat, gasping for breath and gagging. jameson wasn't even sure the man could see his signs anymore. "y-you fucking - you poisoned me?" anti stammered, wrapping his arms round his stomach and paling even further. "christ, well, that's a first -"

jameson grimaced in disgust as anti threw up without warning, still coughing afterwards. "gross," the time traveler signed, screwing up his face. "die with a little dignity, anti."

anti looked up in time to catch the last few words, although by this point jameson supposed his vision had blurred enough that he couldn't see very well. nevertheless, he managed to sit himself up, wiping spit off his chin. "you want me - why the fuck d'you want me dead?" he managed. his arm twitched wildly, and he gasped in pain. jameson watched him clutch at the counter, trying to pull himself up. "i g-gave you everything, you unappreciative shit, what is wrong with - you f-fucking -"

he suddenly spasmed, and jameson sighed. "oh dear," he signed, despite anti not being able to see him. "it appears you've reached the stage of convulsing and seizures. that's not good, especially with your epilepsy, is it?"

anti choked, and jameson laughed without noise, pulling his phone from his pocket and quickly typing into the text to speech box. he wanted anti to hear what he had to say. "you say you gave me everything," the monotone male voice spoke. "then why am i always in pain? why are you always hurting me, one way or another? why do you treat me like i'm less than you?"

"i - love you, you b-b-bastard," anti gasped, stopping to cry out in pain as he convulsed. "i do, tha-that's nottalie, swear, swear, stop it, stop -"

jameson had finished typing his next lines by that point. "you always say you love me but you don't fucking show it. buying me sketchbooks and ingredients for meals doesn't count as love." his fingers flew across the keyboard. "love is not hurting someone just because you want to. love is not demeaning someone and making them feel small and worthless. love is not stepping on someone to elevate yourself. love is not hurt. love is not you."

"no, no, no," anti mumbled, curling up on the floor, hissing through his teeth. "i - i - you don't underst-t-tand - protect, trying to protect, ah, ah, nngh, i'm - dap -"

"and there's another thing," the voice said cooly. "my name isn't dapper. it's jameson jackson. you don't notice anything, do you, anti? this wasn't a sudden rebellion."

"a li'l p-poison isn't gonna kill me," anti laughed hoarsely.

jameson stood. "no," he signed. "but this will."

he pulled the other item from his pocket, slowly, so anti could take it in. he smirked as his brother's breath hitched at the sight of the silver kitchen knife, reflecting the light from the window above the counter. the reaction was so satisfying to watch.

"y-you're gonna stab m-me, eh?" anti tried to laugh again, but it came out more like a weak whimper. he retched again, head slamming against the wall as he twitched. "f-feels like it's f-fitting that you'd b-be - be the one to kill me. if anyone did, you-you're not - the worst choice."

jameson rolled his eyes. "sure." then he leaned down and pressed his knife to anti's bandaged throat. "anything else to say?"

anti was still shaking, blood dribbling from his mouth. but his eyes, flickering from colour to colour and eventually coming to rest on grey to match his brothers, were full of an emotion that jameson didn't understand. "didn't mean to - you - i -" he threw his head back, whimpering with pain. "b-b-bastard, i - fuck -"

jameson didn't let him get any further.

once it was over, jameson slumped back against the kitchen cupboards, staring off into the living room with unfocused eyes. he'd done it. why didn't he feel happier, more free? why did he feel more trapped than ever?

his hands were red.

he washed them. ten times over. then he took a shower and changed his clothes. he stared at his reflection for a full half hour, lost in thought, hands shaking as his nails dug into his palm.

anti was still on the floor when he went back downstairs. fuck, best get rid of him. jameson crouched down next to him and pressed a hand to his brother's chest. with closed eyes, he let the magic channel through him, burning his skin, burning anti's skin, crushing him under the weight of time itself. several minutes passed, and by the end of it, anti's body was gone. eaten away, dissolved.

jameson didn't feel lighter. really, he felt so much heavier. like he'd gone swimming in a full denim outfit. like he'd gone swimming with rocks in his pockets. like he'd - like he'd just killed his brother. there was no sugarcoating it.

it had felt good. jameson had never been more disgusted with himself.

what would he do now? there was no where else to turn. no one else to go to. except - jameson narrowed his eyes. no one else but the creator's boys. the one's who'd called themselves his brothers. the one's who'd left him with anti. they'd left him with anti, they'd left him with - they'd left him here. they'd been too fucking cowardly to come save him.

jameson picked up the knife from the place anti's body had been. maybe he had something he could do after all. loose ends to tie up. more brothers to put in their places.

his hands weren't red anymore. they felt red.

jameson's french toast had gone cold.

#jacksepticeye #boop writes #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #this is not canon in my lore!! i would like to make that clear!!! this is just another dumb oneshot that will NOT turn into an au my god #no more aus for reina #poison tw #death tw #stabbing tw

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thepilotanon · 4 years

Text

gardenia iv

gender reveal/baby shower

I know this has been a long wait, so here it is! I’m excited for you to read this chapter. I hope you will let me know what you think of this chapter and what you hope to see - since this is more of a drabble series, I’m always open for ideas and interacting with readers of the different possibilities to share with Clyde and playing Belle! Please enjoy!!

warning: none!

“Marlene,” Clyde mumbled softly, only to hear his wife’s soft sigh. “That’s alright, I wasn’t feelin’ that name either. Reminds me of that Marley an’ Me movie, n’ I won’t cry with my possible daughter’s name. Was also a name of an old lady who chase me n’ Mellie off her yard as kids.”

“Then, Marley is also out of the question,” a tired, yet amused voice responded, making him chuckle a bit. His right hand busy with their gentle caress against the rounding belly, having pushed the shirt up to below her breasts to feel the soft skin with his bare hand. “What about Eric…”

“Mmm, had a bully in third grade named Eric,” Clyde huffed, and Belle nuzzled closer to him in their bed. “Erica could be alright…”

“Not Eric, then. Erica, maybe,” Belle mumbled with a small smile before yawning. She was tired, Clyde could tell easily with how her pretty eyes were closed and how she clung herself as close as possible to him, but there was a factor in the way of her sleeping soundly. Her belly has been making it difficult for her to find a comfortable position to sleep, even though she isn’t showing to the point she can’t turn properly while laying down. Clyde is always more than awake to tend to her and try and help her get the proper amount of sleep needed for a pregnant woman - especially with the baby shower coming up in the afternoon of that day.

Clyde had found talking to his wife and gently massaging her back and belly helped a lot, as well as just talking to her with his voice low and soft. Something about his accent and the way he hums makes her feel fuzzy on the inside and more relaxed, as she claimed, and Clyde was more than willing to try and practice his conversation skills with his sleepy wife. With her head carefully tucked to his shoulder on the pillow, Belle shivered at the uncomfortable feeling of her large belly and her sore back and pressed her forehead closer to him. Her husband was gentle to comb her hair back and kiss the top of her head, his brows knitting together with genuine concern.

“You alright, baby?” he asked softly, his hand drifting up and down her back before brushing his fingers against her pregnant stomach.

Belle nodded and Clyde cooed gently and peppered little kisses along her hairline and forehead with a feather-like touch. “Poor sweetheart, ya think the baby is jus’ excited for the party?” he teased affectionately, drumming his fingers lightly over the bump and made her smile sleepily.

“I keep thinking it is actually kicking, but it’s gas or just my belly making weird noises,” Belle confessed, somewhat embarrassed and amused by herself just by thinking about it. “I can’t tell you how many times I tense up thinking it’s going to be the little bean kicking, and nothing happens - I think that’s the source of my sore muscles, being all tense and expectant. I’m just being whiney about it…”

“What’s a baby kick suppose to feel like?” Clyde asked, curious of this little secret, but also wondering about the little angel resting against his own stomach inside his wife’s womb. Either of them have yet to feel the baby kick; Clyde has been reading up and researching, constantly asking Belle if there has been any update, yet Belle can only smile sadly and shake her head. They were remaining patient, however, letting the unborn baby take its time. “It ain’t suppose to hurt, right? I don’t want you to be in pain or uncomfortable…”

“I don’t think a little baby can kick hard enough to hurt me. I’m pretty sturdy as they come, believe it or not,” Belle snickered before lifting her chin, asking him for a kiss which he gave her and nudge their noses together. “I’ve asked Bobbie Jo and Mrs. Potter. Bobbie Jo said that it’s like when your muscle spasms for no reason. But, Mrs. Potter said it can feel like someone flicking the inside of your tummy, so I’m not sure.”

“Can’t be that surprising once you tell the difference, right?” Humming, Clyde lifted the blanket up their bodies to keep her warm and cozy, seeing how more sluggish and sleepy his wife was becoming. Looking to the clock hiding behind her, above the shelves of the headboard, Clyde could see it was after the time Belle would usually strain on staying up with him. He knew she was very tired, and only wished he could do something more to help her sleep easier.

“Pretty sure I can… Still, I don’t think they’re ready to be kicking,” she answered softly. “I don’t know. Doctor said it’s very normal…”

“Doctor said you were doing perfect. Very wonderful momma to-be,” he whispered against her hair, his hand continuing their gentle caresses and massages to the small of her back and stomach. “Both you n’ the lil bean havin’ strong heartbeats, both healthy, jus’ what she told us.”

“Mmhmm...” Belle sighed sleepily, her cheek resting against the pillow and on him, her hands curled between them as she started to finally fall asleep.

“I see ya gettin’ sleepy now, aren’t ya?” Clyde smirked gently, seeing her take deep breaths and unable to keep her eyes open. “Can see ya startin’ to fall asleep, honey. Jus’ relax an’ I’ll take care of you and the lil baby, okay? I’ll keep ‘em settled down so you can sleep…”

Seeing her grin so sleepily, Clyde knew she was about ready to fall into a deep slumber, allowing her to nuzzle into his neck and carefully cling to his sleeping shirt. Clyde felt his heart throb in his chest at feeling her warm cheek against him, the warmth of her belly underneath the blanket and against his palm making feel tingly by the physical contact. He felt his wife’s small hand curl around his neck and tangle in his hair - her fingertips sloppily attempting her massage before going limp. “Love you so much, and so does the little baby…”

Clyde couldn’t stop his grin as he kissed his wife’s head and listened to her breathing change to a deep sleep. Waiting a while to make sure his wife was out after a few minutes, he gave her forehead a gentle kiss before closing his eyes and rest his head on the pillow with her.

XXX.

“I decided.”

Belle turned around to look at her husband while he busied himself with the hook of the hangar in his mouth to take off his button-up shirt of choice. Seeing she was dressed in a lavender sundress and a violet cardigan pressed to the bedside, Clyde opted to wear his light grey button-up with his white undershirt and brand new jeans to look more clean and somewhat matching with her. It was a fun celebration, after all, and Clyde wanted to look almost as good as he did on his wedding day (minus his many panic attacks and his wild imagination of the many what-ifs). Anything for his lady and baby on the way.

Smiling at him while he shrugged his shirt on, approaching to help with the buttons before he could tuck in the shirt, Belle got on her toes to kiss his chest, next to the wedding band resting against his sternum in a necklace. “What did you decide about, big bear?” she asked, feeling him give her a kiss on the top of her head.

“On namin’ the baby.” Catching her attention, Clyde gave her a small smile and brushing his thumb along her cheek. “If it ends up bein’ a lil boy, I can name him one of the few names we liked n’ listed together. If it ends up bein’ a lil girl, you can name her one of the names we picked out for a girl. Feel like it’s only fair since I can’t think of any good girl names and you like some of the boy names I thought of… And I really like the girl names you told me the other day.”

“The ones we put on the fridge?” Belle blinked. The two had a little notepad with little scribbles of possible names and highlighted different colors, depending on the gender or neutral, whenever they had free time on Sundays and Monday nights together.

“Yeah, but we’ll still need to agree to it, don’t we, Darlin’? ‘Course, we gotta agree, when the time comes.” Clyde snickered when she raised a brow at him. Once she finished buttoning his shirt, he tilt her chin up and gave her a sweet kiss that made her grin against his lips.

“Yeah, I would hope so,” Belle snickered while he pulled away and busied himself to tuck his shirt into his jean while getting his belt for him off the bed. “I don’t think it would end well with either of us picking a name, and then changing our minds on how we feel about it for the other.”

Taking his belt when his wife offered it to him, Clyde mumbled a thanks before putting the leather strap through the loops with his only hand. “Just as long as we don’t name the boy Junior.”

“Or after an obvious flower,” Belle agreed with a smile, her hands resting on her belly and rubbing carefully over her dress. “As much as I love my job and having my name after one of the most romantic flowers known to man, I think our little angel is too special for that.”

“Could jus’ name ‘em Angel, too,” Clyde suggested.

Belle’s nose wrinkled a bit as she tried to hold back her laugh. “Would it be weird if I thought Angel would be a cute name for either a girl, or boy? It’s unique, but still special - because it will be our little angel. I’m sure there’s variations for it.”

“Well, ain’t Fish’s name actually Fish? Is Fish a cute name?”

“I’m not even related to - you know that their mom isn’t all that…”

Belle sighed and let him pull her into a hug, his facial hair tickling her neck with his little butterfly kisses to her skin. His arms wrapped around her and his hand sliding down to teasingly squeeze her bottom, making her jump. “We’ll figure somethin’ out,” he assured her affectionately, feeling her pulse quicken when he scraped his teeth under her jaw. “Party first, right? You’re gonna be the center of attention with how lovely ya look, Darlin’.”

“Me and my big belly bumping into everything while I stuff my face with food,” Belle taunted. She squealed when her husband blew a raspberry against her neck, tickling her enough to get her laughing.

“Ain’t no matter, yer still the center of my attention,” he shrugged joyfully before kneeling down to give her stomach gentle kisses. “And so will this lil peanut. Hope ya get yer mommy’s tickle spots, ‘cause I’m gonna be ticklin’ and kissin’ ya until you tire yourself out from laughin’. Yer mommy’s the same way, knocks right out when you get her laughin’ for a good five minutes.”

“Shh, don’t listen to Daddy,” Belle grinned while combing back his hair, feeling him nuzzle against her with so much affection. “Your daddy is just trying to tease me to get me flustered enough for him to distract me from going to the baby shower.”

“Is it working?” Clyde asked sweetly, looking up to give her his loving eyes that he knew she couldn’t resist.

“Only a little bit… Just a pinch.”

“Mmhmm? Uh-huh?” Clyde held back his laughter while his wife playfully shoved his face away from her belly. “C’mon, sweetheart, you can’t resist me that easy.”

“Oh, like you can take one look at me when I doll myself up for you and turn the other cheek?” Belle snickered while he stood up on his feet. “Even when I wake up with knotted hair, drool on my chin and unable to form proper sentences, you still say I’m the prettiest lady you have ever seen.”

“That’s just ‘cause you are, Darlin’,” Clyde grinned, taking her cheek in his hand while his metal prosthetic wrapped across her back. He peppered gentle, loving kissing along her cheek before stealing a quick smooch from her smiling lips. “You could be covered in dirt n’ oil and still be the most beautiful girl in my eyes.”

“Even while I’m stuffing my face with sandwiches while pregnant, or get covered in baby spit? Not sleeping for days because I’ll be a reckless and anxious mom?”

“You deal with me shovelin’ plates in my mouth, and you know darn well we’re both gonna be covered in baby spit!” he claimed rather proudly before nuzzling under her jaw, kissing and nipping her skin softly and holding her close carefully while she laughed. “C’mon, Darlin’, pick out some comfortable shoes to wear and I’ll be right out. We got a party to get ya to.”

It was an interesting situation having Mellie and Bobbie Jo argue about the location of the baby shower - since Belle wasn’t even planning on having one in the first place, that just didn’t sit well with either woman while Silvia was more of the middle ground in the fight. Mellie wanted to have it at the park area, where it was outdoors with fresh air and nature surrounding the picnic patios and have a BBQ while Bobbie Jo wanted it at the new fancy restaurant that just opened up in town (where she knew the owner of the business and could get a deal on a party room) and could get a lovely buffet with clean tablecloth and silverware. As much as the mother-to-be wanted to try and find a solution for both ladies to agree with, suggesting the restaurant they had the wedding reception at, it was automatically turned down and thus Belle kindly asked Jimmy’s girlfriend to put her foot down.

Silvia, as sweet as she is in being a big sister to both Mellie and Belle, and on absolute friendly terms with Bobbie Jo, can also be hard and straightforward in fixing silly situations such as arguing about where to have a baby shower. Thankfully, Silvia suggested either Bobbie Jo or Mellie host it at either house - where there were wooded backyards and easy access to the indoors with an AC available. Before either ladies could bicker which house, Silvia flipped a coin with an actual written agreement on notebook paper that, whoever got the house, the other would be in control of decorations.

Bobbie Jo’s house was claimed on tails, therefor Mellie had full control of the decorations and Bobbie Jo couldn’t interfere.

Considering that it was a gender reveal, Mellie picked the color white for the main color-theme and stuck to minimal decorations. There were a few balloons tied to the stairs that everyone knew that the Logan brothers were going to get ahold of later and party streamers decorating the railings in a cute twisting style. With Bobbie Jo’s backyard covered with greenery and trees, the white popped perfectly and Mellie was more than proud of herself with everyone’s compliments as soon as they entered the backyard; more so the only Logan sister didn’t hesitate to rub it in Bobbie Jo’s face once Belle said how much she loved the design of the patio table with a simple table cloth with a bouquet of white roses on top along with the snack plates that Jimmy was helping himself to. Mellie didn’t hesitate to send Jimmy a displeased scowl at him while hugging Belle in greeting.

“Swear, that man thinks every event is for him to stuff his damn face,” she mumbled before kissing Belle’s grinning cheek while laughing. “Bobbie Jo and Sil made those lil sandwiches for you, ya know. We know you’ve been craving ham and cheese, and look what that sasquatch is doin’! Jimmy, you asshat!”

Like a dog getting caught doing something it knew was naughty, Jimmy popped his head up before jumping over the ledge on the other side. Sadie, watching the whole thing happen, laughed at her father’s silly antics while her mother sighed at finally seeing what her ex was doing whilst conversing with Silvia and Mrs. Potter. What bad leg again? Mellie kindly excused herself from the guests of honor before chasing Jimmy after tossing off her nice sandals.

Clyde shook his head over his siblings’ behavior, taking his wife’s hand and guiding her further. Along with Bobbie Jo, Moody, Sadie and Mellie, Joe Bang and his brothers were also currently present with Mr. and Mrs. Potter sitting close together in lawn chairs with drinks in their hand. Sadie, all dressed up in a white tutu and white ribbons, offered a plate filled with different assorted snacks to the guests very politely before coming over to see her aunt and uncle.

“Aunt Belle!” Sadie squealed as she hurried over to the new arrivals. “Uncle Clyde, can you please hold the plate for me? I wanna hug Aunt Belle!”

Clyde chuckled as he took the plate for his little niece and grinned even bigger seeing Sadie press her cheek against Belle’s stomach and hugging her. Giving her tummy a gentle kiss, Sadie pulled back and waited patiently for Belle to bend down to kiss her cheek, which Belle returned by taking her face with both hands and giving her big kisses to each cheek and then her forehead.

“You look so pretty, Sadie! Look at you!” Belle gushed and fondled the girl’s cheek, making her blush and laugh. “You look even more like a little angel!”

“Thank you, Aunt Belle! You look very, very pretty, too!” Sadie sang brightly, waiting patiently for her aunt to release her before going to hug Clyde as tight as she could. “Hi, Uncle Clyde! You look handsome!”

Clyde chuckled softly when his little niece hugged him, kiss his cheek quickly and took off, chasing down her dad and reprimand him for taking the sandwiches her mom and father’s girlfriend took the time to make special for her aunt. “She seems happy to have a party at her house, huh?”

“Well, she must get it from the other ladies in the family. Both Mel and Bobbie Jo throw very fun parties,” Belle said rather fondly. When Clyde offered her something off of the plate Sadie deserted them with, the pregnant woman picked out a little finger sandwich and a cookie before being called over by Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Belle seemed to glow brightly greeting her bosses, patiently waiting for Mrs. Potter to get up from her spot to properly give her a hug while Mr. Potter took Clyde’s plate and shook the father-to-be’s hand.

“How ya doin’, sweetheart? You been eatin’ good for the baby?” Mrs. Potter instantly took charge of looking over Belle with critical eyes, obviously looking for anything that might raise any sort of red flags. It was natural, according to the elderly married couple, considering both Mr. and Mrs. Potter had seven healthy sons throughout their lives together.

“I’m doing really good, thank you,” Belle responded with a happy grin, allowing the stout, elderly woman to nod in confirmation and then hug her. “Clyde is always making sure I’m eating well enough, getting enough sleep and drinking water, all the sorts you’ve written down for us.”

“Good. Don’t need to kick yer man’s ass for not takin’ care of ya properly, knowin’ how stubborn you are.”

“She ain’t a picky eater, ma’am,” Clyde corrected as he came over. Seeing his wife pout a little bit at the accusations, he kissed the top of her head, while his flesh hand reached to gently caress her rounding stomach. “Takin’ vitamins, eating healthy and doin’ wonderful,” he praised her directly, making her instantly grin; kissing her cheek repeatedly while Mrs. Potter rolled her eyes affectionately.

“Yer gonna spoil her too much,” Mr. Potter interjected and his wife smacked his pudgy belly with her hand, making him snicker.

“Oh shush, ya ol’ man. You were three times as bad whenever I had our boys!”

“Sorry, Ma,” Mr. Potter chuckled and Clyde suddenly found himself a bit flustered by the elderly couple’s interaction.

Even though he and Belle had been affectionately calling each other “Momma” and “Daddy” in the privacy of their home to their growing baby, but still, the idea of doing it out in public made him instantly embarrassed. Clyde most definitely wanted to do it in public, show everyone that he was going to be a dad to a little baby growing inside his wife, who will be the perfect mother…

Mrs. Potter eventually let up from her husband and hugged Belle, gently patting the woman’s hand resting on her belly. “It’s good that ya got a good man, like Clyde, to take care of ya both. Knowing you two, yer goin’ to be jus’ wonderful parents. I know yer old grandpops would be so happy for ya.”

Clyde watched fondly as Belle began to glow from that particular comment. Mr. and Mrs. Potter both knew Belle’s grandfather for most of the man’s life, so hearing that obviously meant a lot to his wife, seeing those happy tears. The old woman grinned and pinched the pregnant woman’s cheeks fondly. “And don’t forget, once this lil babe is out in the world, m’gonna pull my famous cheek pinchin’, jus’ like I did with ya and did with yer ol’ man, when he was a young rascal.”

Belle snickered when Mrs. Potter fondled her cheeks in the palms of her wrinkled hands, laughing with her. “I’m just glad that you never pinched so hard,” Belle told her. “But, please make sure to wait until they’re old enough.”

“O’course, honey! I didn’t get to pinch yours ‘til you were ‘bout five - yer gramps never let anyone else hold ya, but him, his wife and Joe Bang. He was such a particular man when it came to his lil Rosabelle,” Mrs. Potter promised affectionately. Then, looking to Clyde, Mrs. Potter took Clyde’s hand and pat his knuckles with a loving, motherly grin. “You’ll be a great daddy, Clyde. I know for certain that ol’ goofball in Heaven would’ve adored ya as a grandson-in-law, and a perfect match for his lil grandbaby. He would be so excited for you two becomin’ parents. His wife would’a thought the same.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Clyde mumbled, unable to stop his cheeks heating up from the kind words from the old lady who helped his wife so much.

“Well, I know for a fact that Pops would be crying his eyes out and drinking with the daddy-to-be, until he knocked himself out in a tree,” a familiar voice caught both Clyde and Belle’s attention. Turning around, they saw Dayton White dressed appropriately in a nice, pressed shirt and dress pants.

“Dayton!” Belle yelled with a bright smile, attempting to jump at her childhood friend until he grasped her shoulders to keep her still as possible, then pull her into a careful hug. Belle hugged him back as tight as possible while Clyde came over, waiting his turn to shake hands with the NASCAR racer and a friendly half-hug. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re suppose to be in California, last time we talked to you!”

“How could I miss the babyshower of my best friend? If I missed out on that, that would just put weight on my shoulders for the rest of my life, for every Christmas and birthday,” he shrugged, like it was the most casual thing ever, making Belle smack his arm at his suggestion. Dayton snickered at her before patting Clyde’s shoulder. “Mellie let me in on the shower details so, as long as you don’t tell my sponsors that I’m going to be here for the rest of the week, then there is no problem.”

“Mellie did? How she’d manage that?” Clyde asked with a raised brow, stealing a glance to his sister on the back porch, sipping a drink and keeping her attention on Sadie showing her dad a new dance move. “Mellie ain’t much of a Facebook person…”

“And for the rest of the week? That’s not like you to miss that much of work,” Belle added, although with a hint of knowledge of what could be happening for her friend.

“We exchanged numbers last time I was in town, but that’s beside the point - Belle, you haven’t been submitting to your cravings, right? You know that you can still eat as normal as you have been, but adding vitamins help -!”

Belle didn’t hesitate to reach and gently raise Dayton’s jaw to shut him up. “If you’re implying that it looks like I’ve gained unnecessary weight, you’re already cruisin’ for a bruisin’, Dayton. Just ask Jimmy and Uncle Joe about how I don’t hesitate to still kick some ass.”

Clyde rubbed his hand across his wife’s back, trying to keep her grounded. “I stand witness to that. I wouldn’t try testin’ her, buddy, you know how she is.”

“Never would have suggested anything like that!” Dayton claimed, then breaking the three into amused grins. “But, really, you do look really good, Belle. It’s just so weird seeing you whenever, and how big your belly is with the baby! Are you excited to see if it is a boy or a girl?”

“That, and have some of Mellie’s cake.” One of the foods Belle had been craving was the sweets her sister in-law would make, and Mellie had been more than happy to spoil her best friend with sweets and going out for ice cream, whenever Clyde couldn’t. But, Dayton didn’t need to know about that and keep himself awake at night about it…

Until the rest of the guests arrived - Joe Bang, Sam and Fish, a couple of Mellie’s coworkers who knew Clyde and Belle, and some of Bobbie Jo’s pageant friends who knew Belle through helping Sadie - Clyde was fairly overwhelmed by the amount of attention he was getting alongside with his wife. Normally, he would have sufficed sitting by Belle, his only hand holding her shoulder or rub her back upon reaction, sitting quietly and admire his wife’s radiant smile and happy laughs. Being asked how he was feeling or being complimented on keeping up with the pregnancy plan and all of the appointments with no problem, Clyde felt his cheeks burn most of the time. Jimmy would smack him teasingly on the shoulder, telling him to enjoy the attention before the baby arrived - because then, it would be how the baby has which of his features or how stinkin’ cute the little bundle of joy is. Clyde would only flush deeper and simply nod, refusing eye contact.

“And expect to not get as much ‘lone time with Belle,” Jimmy added in way too casually, grinning like the teasing big brother that he is. He snickered when Clyde jumped and Belle glared at him. “Jus’ gotta let ya know! Ya won’t be havin’ and special time while changin’ diapers and tryin’ to sleep.”

Clyde was thankful that both Sylvia and Bobbie Jo smacked Jimmy to be quiet before Joe Bang and Belle did. Mellie even threatened him to refuse his piece of cake, and that was when Jimmy kept his mouth shut.

When the time did come for cake, they had the parents-to-be stand at the end of the patio table while everyone surrounded them as Mellie came out of the house with the dessert. The cake was frosted white with homemade buttercream frosting and had pink and blue confetti sprinkles; everyone clapped for Mellie’s craft as she set the cake in front of Belle and Clyde, producing two knives and a cake server. Since it was Mellie’s planning, she was strict in instructing them how to reveal the inside contents of the cake. Jimmy had Sadie on his lap and helped her start recording with his phone. Dayton, the Bang brothers stood behind Joe Bang with Dayton, while the older man sat on a chair with a beer in hand. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were seated at the other end of the table, with proper view of the couple and cake and taking pictures.

“Now ya can’t be takin’ the knives out, or you’ll see the frostin’,” Mellie explained, handing each of them a knife. “Like the weddin’, ya each cut a side and will lift the servin’ up. Make some cute pictures!” She waved her hands to them to get started.

“Okay,” Belle nodded and smiled to Clyde. “How big do you want the piece to be?”

Clyde hummed and moved his knife to decide on a piece, Belle held hers still for him until he decided, grinning in patience all while Jimmy and Sadie were whining for Clyde to hurry.

“Sadie, what are you hoping the baby will be?” Belle asked the young girl, who was being bounced on her dad’s knee in anticipation.

The little blonde girl snickered. “I don’t mind either! Boy or girl is good to me,” she claimed. “It’s gonna be my honeybun!”

“If it’s a boy, how’ya gonna dress him up in dresses?” Jimmy asked dramatically, making Joe Bang roll his eyes.

“Ya can dress up, play the prince or the shiny guy,” Joe Bang explained. “Boys look good in pink, too - or be a cool dragon, like I was!”

“Don’t go tellin’ lil Sadie the story of how ya played princess and dragon when Rosabelle was too lil to understand that playin’ with hairspray and lighters were dangerous!” Mrs. Potter snapped, and Joe Bang simply shrugged with a naughty grin into his beer bottle. Thankfully, Sadie didn’t pay much attention to what was going on, more focused on what her aunt and uncle working with the cake.

“Ignore ‘em, cut the cake!” Bobbie Jo insisted, also having her phone out and recording. Belle did her best to hide back her laughter from the whole situation. Now that Clyde inserted his knife down to the cake plate, it was only causing more anticipation and excitement on the patio porch.

Grabbing the serving knife next, Belle held it between herself and Clyde, waiting as he used his right hand to wrap around hers. He snuck in for a quick kiss before helping her dig it under the cake. The ladies, including Sadie, aww-ed and both Sam and Fish performed a drumroll bit on their cleaned jeans when Clyde broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together, giving her the most excited eyes sparkling to her.

“Ya ready, Darlin’?” he asked quietly, his smile showing his teeth and the cute wrinkle in his nose whenever he was excited. She felt his hold around her hand tighten a bit, his thumb brushing her skin gently. Sam and Fish’s drumming got more intense when Belle smiled back and nodded.

“Let’s see what our baby is going to be,” she encouraged, and they raised the cut piece of cake, slowly revealing the chocolate cake hidden underneath -

And the bright pink filling inside.

xxx.

Fun Fact: Gender reveal parties became a thing in the late 00s, from inspiration of a couple who struggled to have a child for years and were very excited to know what their baby would be! There is a lot of critical responses to it nowadays, however, I think it’s a wonderful story for a couple’s wish coming true. The couple’s daughter, today, likes to wear suits and break gender-norms!!

taglist: @ayatimascd @kyloxfem @kylo-renne @damndriver @formerly-anonhamster @oh-adam @redhairedfeistynerd @rosalynbair @deliriumdoll @bellaren18

If you would like to be added to the list of this drabble series, please feel free to let me know and I would be very happy to add you!! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, and see you next time.

#pilotanonwrites #clyde logan x reader #clyde x reader #clyde logan #gardeniaclydefic #pilotanonblerb #reader insert #female reader insert

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ya-boy-roy-toy · 4 years

Note

i know this defeats the whole point of sending in numbers but can you just do all of them for jayroy? i so wanna heat what you’ll say!! i love your headcanons so much u.u

Sorry this took so long, but it was an awful lot of headcanons (which is awesome and I had so much fun doing this!) and I wanted to pay them all enough mind.Everything with (Dirty Boys) in front of the response is naughty!

1)Who rocks the Ferris Wheel seat and who flips out and begs them to stop?

Roylikes to mess around just to get on Jason’s nerves (and not just on the FerrisWheel), but Jason grew up in the Wayne household, so it can really take alot to get there. Jason never “flips out” and he’s definitely the one whowill save him from nearly falling off the damn thing, but his heartrate willshoot up and his brow will crease with worry as he holds onto his partner who justlaughs it off.

2)Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, at any place and at anytime?

(DirtyBoys) They both have a pretty high libido, but Roy is moreforward with his advances. He likes to get handsy with Jason (no matter whatJason might happen to be doing at the time) and won’t stop until the otherfollows him to their bed (or the closest stable surface). But, when Jason’s inthe mood, he is very demanding and blunt; if he wants to suck off Roy, thenhe’ll go to his workshop and do it right then and there, and Roy’s pretty muchat his mercy (not that he really minds).

Jasonis also the one more likely to initiate sex while they’re on a job; seriously,this boy grew up on the streets, so he has absolutely no qualms with doin’ itwherever, whenever – and Roy is more than happy to oblige.

3)Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxingand who tries to make it sexy time?

(DirtyBoys) Roy tends to get a little lax about takingshowers, so Jason has to remind him from time to time – and what better waythan to invite Roy to join him (which hardly every fails). Jason prefers bathsbecause he likes to relax in them by himself for a while, but he also doesn’tmind sharing baths with Roy (though those are still relaxing, but in quite a differentway).

LikeI mentioned previously, Roy likes getting handsy with Jason, and being coveredin fruity smelling soaps certainly helps with that. But Jason can calm Roy downpretty easily, just start washing the red-head’s hair and he’s at Jay’s mercy.So Jason is definitely the one in charge of where exactly bath-time will endup.

4)Who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to go put someclothes on?

(DirtyBoys) Roy, for sure. He does it either because he doesn’tcare or he genuinely forgets; once he has been working on a project formultiple days he starts forgetting the essentials. If it’s the first situation,Jason just gets annoyed with it (and sometimes they fuck), but if it’s thelatter, Jason will chase him around the house to dress him himself.

5)Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?

Roy,because more often than not it’s Jason’s safehouse and his bed.

6)Who takes photos of the other while they sleep?

SometimesJason will take pictures of Roy when he falls asleep in particularlyinteresting positions, or at his workbench to try and convince him to sleep ina bed for a change. Roy will take pictures of Jason falling asleep in weirdplaces around their safehouses and send them to Kori because he knows they makeher smile.

7)Who said “I love you” first? and who ends their arguments in a fightwith “Because I love you”?

Royfirst said “I love you” when he reunited with Jason after the other had died;he had held him close and honestly couldn’t stop saying it. If Jason and Royare fighting over a situation or a choice that was really dangerous, Royusually won’t back down from defending himself and Jason will get soexasperated that he’ll yell: “I don’t want you doing that because Ilo-”. And he’ll stop himself when his voice cracks and won’t let the rest ofthe words come out, because he’s really afraid of Roy getting hurt – or worse –but he’s more afraid of his words sealing his partner’s fate (because that’swhat’s happened to others in his past).

8)Who likes to wear the other’s sweatshirts?

Theyboth like to switch clothes and do it unconsciously a lot. Jason’s are alwaysreally loose in the chest on Roy, but he likes the smell of the material themost – he tends to sleep in Jay’s sweatshirts. Roy’s are almost alwayssleeveless and hug Jason’s broader chest, so he likes to wear them for workingout – then he’ll put them back in Roy’s things, because he knows his partnerlikes his musk.

9)Who wakes the other up in the middle of the night to tell them a cool dreamthey had? Who has the most nightmares, and who sings them back to sleep after?

Royhas all kinds of ideas for inventions and plans at night, so he’ll excited wakeJason up to tell him about and then Jason will just say “Couldn’t this havewaited until, like, the sun came up?”

Jasonhas more nightmares, and it really depends on the kind of nightmare for how Roymight be able to comfort Jay and bring him back to reality. A lot of the timehe just needs to be held by Roy (and sometimes Kori too) to be reminded thathe’s not alone, but other times he actually needs to be alone and Roy will haveto figure that out (usually the hard way) and go sleep in his own room.

Roy’snightmares usually correspond with his withdrawals, so Jason already has anidea of when things might happen so he can prepare. He’ll hold Roy throughnightmares and muscle spasms so that he doesn’t hurt himself or Jason. When Royis in pain, there’s little more he can do than keep an eye on him and remindhim that he’s there.

10)Who is more likely to cheat?

(DirtyBoys) Neither of them like to cheat on the other or ever doit intentionally, but things happen sometimes and the only thing they can do isfeel remorseful about it and move on.

Roywould love nothing more than to only be with Jason for the rest of his life,but the decisions he makes when under the influence of drugs or alcohol are nothis own, but he does have to deal with the consequences when he’s sober.Unfortunately, most of the time he doesn’t remember where he is or who he’sbeen with, he just wakes up somewhere that’s not with Jason and has to find hisway back home. At first he would beat himself up about it pretty badly, buteventually he and Jason had a talk about it and the understanding that theycame to share helped make him feel less guilty.

Jasonloves Roy unconditionally, and even though he has knowledge of Roy’s‘activities’ when he’s using, he does not use them as an excuse for his ownbehaviors. When they are apart, Jason will go through periods of wantingabsolutely nothing to do with any other human beings to needing nothing morethan a good fuck, so he’ll satisfy either of those needs as he sees fit.Throughout all of this, he never feels any emotional connection with theseother people, and certainly nothing close to the way that being with Roy makeshim feel. He and Roy haven’t openly discussed this yet, but Roy has hissuspicions but also understands that that is something that Jason just needs.

11)Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remindthem that they are in a relationship?

Jasonsometimes like to poke fun at Roy having a crush on him since they were kids(and when Jason was “practically a baby” compared to Roy) just to watch Roy getall flustered and embarrassed (because “it was only a two and a half year agedifference, Jason. I am nOT a cradle snatcher!”).

Sometimes,if Roy ever gets drunk, he’ll get really emotional about how beautiful Jasonis, and then proceed to absolutely loose his shit when Jason says he has aboyfriend. He then has to calm Roy down explaining that Roy is that boyfriend.But that usually doesn’t sink in until Jason takes him home and snuggles withhim in their bed until Roy passes out.

12)Who starts a food fight in the kitchen?

Roy.He can only do them with Kori, because Jason has no patience for it. Jason alsomakes Roy clean up everything after (and Kori always helps too).

13)Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer?

Roylike to start duets, but he was pleasantly surprised the first time Jasonjoined in – the rumor that Dick is the best singer in the Batfam is nottrue.

14)Who starts the hand holding? Who grabs the others butt? Who slides their armaround their waist? Who likes to put their fingers in the belt loops?

(DirtyBoys) Roy will usually reach out and take Jason’s hand whenhe notices him getting a little lost in his own head.

Roylikes to smack Jay’s butt playfully, but if Jason’s feeling feisty he’ll go infor a hug and instead just grab onto Roy’s ass cheeks so he’s red-faced whenthey pull apart.

Roylikes to wrap his arm around Jay’s waist when he’s feeling possessive, or whenthere’s a bunch of men and women eyeing his man.

Jasonwill grab onto Roy’s belt loops when the other is working on his inventions,pulling him closer on his rolling chair and away from the distraction of hiswork.

15)Who likes writes the others name on their wrist?

Royloves tattoos and they are important to him, so he actually has a tattoo ofJason’s name (it actually says ‘Jaybird’) on the inside of his wrist.

16)Who is more seductive when they are drunk? and who is louder in bed?(already done)

17)Who is more protective? (already done)

18)Who talks to the other while they are sleeping?(already done)

19)Who drives and who has the window seat?

Mostof the time they ride on motorcycles and they each have their own (as well ascars). But sometimes they like to just go cruise around through back roads inRoy’s old, red pickup truck. Roy drives with the windows down and one arm out,while Jason reclines in his seat with his feet on the dash or out the window.

20)Who falls asleep in the others lap and who carries them to bed?

Theyboth have a tendency to work themselves to the point of utter exhaustion, sothey frequently do this with each other. Roy will sleep like the dead when hefinally goes down from exhaustion, so Jason will gather him up and take him totheir shared bed. But when this happens to Jason, Roy just leaves him where heis with a blanket over him, because Jason is a very light sleeper and it’s hardenough getting him to go down in the first place.

21)Who cuts the others hair?

Jasoncuts his own hair, and sometimes Roy’s too. But Roy hates having his hair cut,so it’s not as often as Jason would like it to be.

WhileRoy might not like having people cut his hair, he adores having it messed with(braided by Kori and brushed by Jason) – it’s like free therapy.

22)Who is super bad at sexting? and who sends them encouraging messages throughoutthe day?

(DirtyBoys) Roy’s sexting is usually weird puns and dick jokes,but all Jason has to do is send him the barest bit of skin and Roy is now puttyin his hands.

Jasonhas a tendency to send Roy positive and encouraging messages whenever they areaway from each other/“taking a break” because he knows that sometimes that canbe enough to keep Roy from going back to the bottle or a needle.

23)Who thinks they are not good enough for the others love? and who’s more afraidof losing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other totell them they don’t need to worry?

Theyboth definitely have times where they feel like they don’t deserve the other,but this also helps them understand the validation that each of them needs tofeel better. They are both equally afraid of losing each other – and for Roy,it would mean losing Jason a second time, which he doesn’t think he couldhandle.

Jasondoesn’t usually admit to feeling like he’s messing up (instead he begins towithdraw, with the hope of removing himself to solve any problem that might beoccurring). But Roy will have times when he just breaks down and is a messblaming himself for things left-and-right, so Jason can only try to reassurehim that it’s not his fault.

24)Who starts random slow dancing with the other in the kitchen? Who holds theother just above the ground and kisses them? (already done)

25)Who says shitty puns and sex jokes just to see the other giggle and blush?

(DirtyBoys) Roy makes these unironically and just because he wantsto. He knows that they’ll just get and eye-roll from Jason who will then makethe decision whether or not he’s in the mood to shut Roy up right away –meaning taking him somewhere and shutting him up.

Ifand when Jason makes sex jokes, he renders Roy a speechless, sputtering mess,leaving Jason satisfied with a suddenly submissive Roy who need to be told whatto do.

26)Who kissed first?

Roywas too nervous about kissing Jason when they were younger because of beingolder than Jay, so he waited until Jason made the first move at his own pace.He still lets Jason initiate most all of their kisses, simply because he knowsthat it means a lot to Jason to make his own choices and decisions.

27)Who orders take out at two in a morning? and who wakes the other up at three inthe morning to go downstairs with them to get a glass of water because it’s toodark?

Roy.He’ll eat anything at any hour of the day, but once he’s crawled into bed it’snearly impossible to get him out of it. This means Jason is usually the one whogets up in the morning and starts breakfast so that Roy will come out of thebed to chase the smell of food.

Becauseof Roy’s lack of getting out of bed and Jason’s detesting of getting out of bedwhen he doesn’t have to, they opted to get a mini-fridge to keep drinks in, soit’s a win-win.

28)Who writes poems/stories and love songs about the other? Do they sing the songsthe write for them?

Jasonsometimes gets inspired to write things about Roy, mostly because getting hisfeelings out in words can help him to better understand his emotions. But hedoes not let Roy read them because he feels like they’re too sappy. Once, Korifound one of the little notebooks that Jason uses for this and she read throughall of the entries. She was so moved by the words but also knew that Jasonwouldn’t have kept it so secret if he had wanted it to be read, so she kept herfeelings to herself besides the soft, knowing smiles she would give Jason fromtime to time.

29)Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up drivingthem to the emergency room after it backfires?

Roy’salways trying to do some dumb shit, and Jason always drives him to theemergency room. It’s almost how concerning how routine this has become.

30)Who is embarrassed when they have to wear their glasses and who thinks theylook super cute?

Roygets a little self-conscious wearing his glasses around the safehouse, whichisn’t made much better by Jason making comments about how cute he looks inthem. At first, he thought Jason was saying it to tease him, but eventuallyJason took his glasses off, kissed both of his eyelids, and told him that everyword was true. Roy turned as red as his hair and just grumbled about having toget back to work on his trick arrows.

#jayroy #jayroy headcanons #ask ya boy #dirty boys #jaybird #jason todd #roytoy #roy harper #mun responds #my headcanons #dc #dc comics #dcu #Anonymous

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bahannah01writes · 7 years

Text

Bring Me a Dream (Pt. 1)

You find yourself back into the world of Dreamers with a determined heart and a curious mind, along with questions you hope won't go unanswered. Once again, Mark will be elated to have you back- but he can tell you're hiding something. Mark may not have any inkling as to what you're really hiding, but he's as stubborn as his dog is golden to do his best and find out. Though, like anything in this world, there is always more to a story than what it seems. And above all, there is only one question far more important than any... What flavor slushee will you drink first?

Sequel to SDMD is finally here, loves! And goodness hopefully you all love it just as much! (Also, so happy my wifi is working, for the last hour it’s been glitching ;^; so now I can finally post it! :D )

Next!

Read the first part of this series here!

Tages: @kourt-kay @twizzlersnizzler @bananakid42 if you want to be tagged, please message me :)

Enjoy!

~~~

The night is dark, stars reach higher than any soul could on Earth. The moon hangs above and watches over all of its sleepy creatures below it. Serene silence envelops the world and the house is no exception. The sweet laughter that filled it during the day disappeared into soft snoring and hardly audible fans; they kept the house cool from the hot Californian sun in the morning and afternoon. The sun seemed so energetic, always ready to brighten the day- both metaphorically and literally. But now, now it is the moon's turn and he decides to keep the lights low with only the stars, that freckle the sky so perfectly, aiding him. Other than that, the darkness blankets the sky accompanied by a cloud or two that'd dim the lights even further.

And even so, Mark’s curtains currently block out the sight to make his room even darker. His golden dog lays at his feet as he sleeps; breathing steady and light as the night pulls him further into the realm of dreaming. It is a little bit past midnight, he had spent his time editing videos until deciding it was enough and he would finish the rest tomorrow. Nonetheless, he had to keep in mind that the very next morning he would have to exercise early- Mark was determined to stick to his routine and would always make sure he had a decent night of sleep so the morning wouldn’t be so bad. In this moment, he’s doing just that- getting a good night sleep.

Albeit, it wouldn’t last long.

A few hours later, Mark could hear the wind howling and banging outside his house. A groan escapes his lungs as he sits up in bed, his tired eyes looking around his room. He sees that Chica must have left at some point during the night, he figures that she merely wanted water or something of the sort. Nothing big.

Is it raining too? What the Hell? The forecast said nothing about rain, Mark would remember if they said anything about it, he would have to adjust his jogging route otherwise. Now that he thinks about it, he couldn’t even remember anything about high winds either. Odd. Then, he hears what sounds like a few knocks on the walls around his room. Including one on the wall along the side of his house, where no one- unless of course they really wanted to and brought a ladder- would be able to knock on. This overwhelming sense of dread overcame him, a sinking feeling in the pit of stomach set in- it’s growing heavier and heavier with each passing moment. Mark isn’t exactly sure what is going on, nor does he understand why he feels so afraid; which possibly only adds onto his fear. The knocking seems to grow louder, harsher even, around him and not only could he feel how hard his heart is beating, but he can hear it too.

God, it is so loud! He is tempted to just get up and go splash some water in his face or do something, anything to get rid of this feeling. This sinking feeling that nothing good is about to happen- no, the feeling that only pain and torment were in store. He doesn’t like it one bit, yet, he can’t bring his legs to move from his bed. Mark knows it sounds crazy but he feels as though if he were to step on the floor, it would somehow bring him pain. He isn’t sure how; he just knows it will.

His senses are getting overwhelmed; eyes darting from one part of the room to the next repeatedly- he can’t shake this odd sense of being watched. Mark feels eyes on him as he lies helplessly in his bed- too scared to move a muscle. He’s paralyzed. The only sense spared is scent and taste, and he isn’t all that interested in seeing how they may be involved. He tries to shut his eyes, hoping that if he pretends this isn’t happening, it will all disappear. That everything he is feeling, everything he is experiencing, everything that is going on around him, it will all somehow go away and leave him to fall asleep in peace. That this personal Hell can end and let him rest once more.

Only when he opens his eyes, he realizes that nothing has changed.

That simply adds onto the overbearing sense of despair and fright in his heart and mind.

His chest rises and falls with each breath; one after the another, they gradually become faster. His panicked eyes still searching the room as paranoia fills his brain; there’s someone here. There has to be! Why else would he feel like he’s being watched?

The storm continues to pour outside as Mark’s eyes finally spot something, someone, in the darkness. Everything that once filled his senses and clouded his mind disappeared- all of his focus is now with the figure on the left side of his room. Their eyes meet and the stare lingers if only for a few seconds before the figure vanishes into the unknown and Mark suddenly gains a stinging pain over every inch of his body. It feels like a wave, beginning at his feet and rising up to his head to fill his whole body with this unimaginable sensation, one that no one should ever have to endure. Like the lightening bolts that rage on outside, the pain burns and stings, never faltering- if anything, it gets worse and worse with each passing second. It’s horrendous.

He screams as his body contorts in all sorts of ways to try and cope with the terrible sensation. Curling into himself and then spreading out, spasms of the muscles in reaction to whatever it is that he is feeling. Mark’s heart feels like it could jump out of his chest at any moment, his bones act as though they desperately try to escape his body, all while his throat grows dry and sore from yelling. Eyes shut tightly as his head throws itself into the pillow- back arched- pained groans escape his lungs due to the torturous feelings engulfing his whole being. In one last fight against the sensation, he makes a quick move.

He lurches forward in his bed, sweaty and out of breath. He woke up. Mark’s brown hues wide with panic and confusion, they search the room around him and find no evidence of the figure’s existence. The pain’s disappearance is similar, not a trace nor a last twinge of it in his body, he feels fine. Tired, but fine. Instead, Mark notices a sleeping Chica at the foot of his bed- undisturbed and relaxed as ever. Brows knit together as a hand runs through the messy black strands, was that another nightmare? While the YouTuber is familiar with the haunted dreams, he hasn’t had one of that sort in, well, he actually can’t remember having a nightmare like that. Maybe in his childhood? He’s not sure. Either way, it was so vivid, he feels like it was all real. But that couldn’t be, could it? No, it was just a really weird, lucid, and fucked up nightmare. That’s all.

Giving the golden dog a quick pet, Mark gets out of bed and goes to his bathroom counter. The bright lights sting his eyes so he blinks a few times to help adjust to them, he takes in his reflection and chuckles. Yeah, he looks like a mess. A crooked smirk crosses his expression as he turns the water on- making sure the dial is on cold- he cups his hands below the faucet and once satisfied with the amount, proceeds to splash the cool water over his face to help bring him back into reality. Mark does this one more time- just to make sure it’s really working after all. Why splash water on your face if it doesn’t wake you up, right? If it didn’t work, then it was just a waste of time and now you're not only tired, but cold too. So, it’s always better to be thorough with these things.

Nonetheless, it does work and Mark, out of pure curiosity, looks over his hands in case the pain he experienced in the dream possibly had a real life source. He doesn’t see anything, even after stretching his fingers and what not, there is simply not an answer for it- or at least in real life there isn’t. In one’s dreaming world, who knows how many answers there are.

He shrugs and tries to rub the remaining sleep out of his eyes as he turns off the lights and heads back to his bed. Sadly, he finds that he’s too awake by now to try and fall back asleep. He looks over to his clock and reads the red numbers: 4:12am. Damn, he really is up early. Groaning, Mark’s eyes shift to the window.

The sky is still painted a dark blue with the little white and yellow stars, the pale full moon shines brightly. Mark really does love space; being reminded of how beautiful it all is, it sends a soft smile to his lips despite everything else. Even if the random rain continues to come down, it’s a far lighter storm than depicted in his dream and he has an odd but hopeful feeling that soon there will be clearing skies as the sun rise. Albeit, it may take another hour or two- yet, it’s all worth it, isn’t it? To see the beauty of the Earth unravel, as night turns to day, the dim sky changing into a splendid display of oranges, pinks, and blues? The clouds reflecting and reveling in the color change as well, he finds it refreshing. With each new day, a new sun rise and a new sun set, shaking away the existence of yesterday as the Earth rotates in this ginormous universe of ours. It reminds him that there really isn’t any point in focusing on the past or the negatives, rather, living for now and for the happiness one deserves. The idea of looking up instead of down has helped in more than one situation; the latest still fresh in heart and mind.

Mark hears an adorable little snore behind him, he laughs lightly and turns around to offer Chica an early morning belly rub. She happily welcomes it and even rolls over further, he couldn’t help the laughs escaping him by that point. She’s too cute!

His eyes go back and forth between the bed and the door, again- trying to decide if he should at least try to go back to sleep or accept the situation and just make some breakfast already. The rain outside tempts him to do the first, even if it may take a while.

Although, a bang reaches his ears and he looks out towards the window. Was that thunder? Mark doesn’t think so and is only assured of that when the noise echoes out in his house again. His eyes narrow and with a peculiar feeling of paranoia sneaking into his mind; he looks for a quick thing to defend himself with, he settles for a heavy book that was on his nightstand. Mark’s long legs carry him, albeit cautiously, out of his room and down the stairs into the hallway. The floorboards creak ever so slightly beneath him and fuel his paranoia. Logically, yes, he knows it’s probably nothing and it may simply be his mind playing tricks with him in the night. But right now, the lack of sleep has made him a bit more susceptible to his cruel imagination. Mark waits for a moment, the silence making it easy to listen for another bang. And sooner than expected, another one came. Though this time, he realizes it to be a knock, which adds to his confusion.

Who’s at his house at 4am in the morning?

With furrowed brows, Mark makes his way over to the front door. He debates with himself on whether or not he should really answer it or leave it alone. For all he knows, it could be a murderer just waiting for some dummy stupid enough to open their door to a stranger at 4am. The thought hits him once he’s about a foot away from the door, his lips purse and he begins to ponder the outcomes. It took him a moment to decide and during that moment he heard two more knocks, his decision is to simply open the door a crack to see exactly who it is that’s out there. However, it then dawns on him that he does in fact have a peephole and that this situation is, quite frankly, the exact reason why peepholes are made.

The darkness still surrounds the person outside, and as if will help, he squints in an attempt to make out their features better. From what he can tell, he thinks that they’re a girl. They’re about to raise their hand to knock on the door once more, even just by watching their actions, he can tell they’re hesitant. That’s good news, he thinks, most spontaneous murderers aren’t hesitant right? Mark chews on his bottom lip, his gaze leaves them and goes to the book in his hand, with a heavy sigh he decides to open the door.

His free hand grabs the door knob and twist it slowly, he opens the door a few inches. It’s just enough to peek his head out, offer a smile, and try to get a good look at whoever is standing, soaked, on his front porch. “Can I help you, miss?” Mark also really hopes that his assumptions in the person being of the female gender is true, he doesn’t want to seem like an ass this early in the day already.

Although, when he hears their response, the raven haired sweetheart finds himself frozen.

“Mark?”

~~~

And boom! First chapter out of the way! If you have the time, please write some lovely feedback about what you guys think about it so far! Hopefully it wasn't too bad of a beginning lol but there is definitely more to come, with plenty of secrets and lore to unravel, so stick with me kid if you wanna see (or rather read) more! :D

#bring me a dream #sequel of sdmd #SDMD sequel #BMD?#BMAD?#nah BMD definitely #please enjoy!#goodness I hope you enjoyed!#markiplier x reader #mark fischbach x reader #markiplier fanfiction #bahannah01

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chikkachu · 7 years

Text

Mahrid

A/N: I’m so sorry this is very late for the mythical creature’s event. Anyway @nalu-nerd13 Surprise! I’m your partner. I hope you find this worth the wait. I don’t know what this turned out being but here it is anyway haha

Let me know if you guys like this world and I’ll actually try my luck at a multi-chapter (plus, I love to talk you all 😉). Also if anyone knows Arabic or a lot about Arabian mythology please get in touch with as I’d love to talk to you :D

I made a little mood board for this one which you can see here ---> Link

Please check out my writing master post if you want to read my other stories and the links to my ff.net & AO3 are there as well ---> Link

The quote in the summary is Oscar Wilde ;)

Songspiration:

You’re… Immortal? - Marcin Przybyłowicz

Mystery Man - Marcin Przybyłowicz

-x-

Summary

“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden itself.” Lucy was about to find out this rang true when her true identity started to reveal itself. NaLu.

-x-

She felt nothing.

Darkness surrounded her, flickers of white formless hands clawed at her sub-conscious, coaxing her forward. To call her current state an abyss would be inaccurate, it was more a vacuum. The white ethereal energy sunk heavily into her skin, as it did so, her blindness seemed to lift. Heavy eyelids lifting, swirling with what seemed like grey mist crawled along rugged, thirsty land.

Bitter cold nipped at her nerves. Bone deep exhaustion tumbled into her spaced out mind, her fingers dug, trying to find a perch on the barren terrain. Questions of why it was so cold in the desert briefly crossing her mind. From her paralysed state on the ground, she notices large fissures forming in the sky, their colour a blinding white. Grey fog started to whirl becoming the deep black of burning material.

Perspiration dotted her skin, sub-zero temperatures morphing into unforgiving heat.

Trying to breathe, she felt her diaphragm spasm as she attempted to inhale. The air was thick with smoke, her lungs burned as tar polluted the air. Coating her airways, coughing and breath sounding a staccato as she struggled for her breath. Needles prickling under her skin as she started to suffocate. Blind and unable to breathe Lucy tried to yell, why wasn't anyone helping her?

Pricking turned to a stabbing pain, gasping she felt her body numb. Fear filling her as her body was dragged across the floor. Groaning, Lucy felt her muscle spasm as her wrists and ankles felt like they were being crushed into the ground.

The pressure in her lungs released and she spluttered as the air filled her lungs. Strange. Thick liquid coated her chest, dripping down her sides. Confusion consumed her, why were her senses no longer being attacked? Dropping her head to the side, still, she could see nothing but swirling smoke.

Cracked, barren earth offered no comfort as she shifted, sharp gravel digging into her back. Bringing an elbow up to support her body weight, core muscles still sore from earlier spasms, she looked down. It felt as if corrosive acid was eating at her skin, the burning unbearable.

Her chest cavity was gaping, congealed blood-forming thick globules around the wound situated above her heart. Ripping her hands from the ground she clutched the saturated fabric, a scream forming in her throat. A piercing noise rattled her ears, relentless and loud. She feared her eardrum would rupture. Hands stained crimson clutched over her lobes in a desperate attempt to stop the damage.

Then she felt translucent hands once again pull at her psyche, this time ripping her from her surroundings.

"Lucy!"

Her eyelids felt like lead as she tried to respond to the call. This wasn't the first time she had been pulled into vivid daydreams. If you could call it that, the event felt real, every pain, every emotion was hers. Coming to her body always felt clammy, as if the stifling heat had evolved into a fever. Lucy scrunched her face as she felt a damp cloth blot underneath her ear.

"Lucy?" Recognising the chirpy tone of her best friend, she slowly opened her eyes. Her vision distorted and blurred as her pupils adjusted to the light.

"Thank the heavens you're okay," Making out blue hair and Levy's signature yellow ribbon. Lucy welcomed the additional weight, arms enveloping her in a hug.

"I don't know about okay." She wasn't. Lucy tucked a blond tress behind her ear, cringing when feeling the sweat clinging to her forehead. Sitting up Lucy felt the cushions of Levi's lush sofa cave under her weight. Truly the thing was too comfortable and undoubtedly the reason she had fallen asleep during their meditation session.

"What happened to you?" Levy asked, plopping down at her side and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know. It's happened before." Flashbacks of falling from her bed, or getting injuries from her dreams frightened her. Especially how her ears rang, as they are now, from the cry that tore her from the world.

"What? And you didn't say anything before we started?"

"It's only occurred at night before. I thought they were dreams." Lucy shrugged, nightmares were normal. She wasn't the type to make others worry about something trivial.

"Your eyes were open Lucy. Your sclera morphed, I could see outlines." That didn't sound good. In fact, the thought was starting to creep her out.

"Outlines?" She asked.

"Yes." Levy nodded, clapping her hands together standing abruptly, "Which reminded me of something I read a while back."

Scuttling into her bedroom, Levi returned minutes later with a tome that Lucy suspected would kill someone if you dropped it on their head. If the impact didn't kill them then the centuries worth of dirt caked onto the cover would.

"That looks like it's about to turn into dust," Lucy said, observing the state of said object. The tatty state of the leather binding the pages belied the golden plated spine.

E.N.D the letters were barely discernible, age eroding at the ink.

"That would be because it's old as dirt," Levy quipped, holding the book proudly, "I borrowed it from the Asmodeus Library at the college."

"Borrowed?" Lucy's mouth dropped open, " Levy, you're not allowed to take books out of there."

Honestly, her best friend never failed to surprise her with boundless temerity.

"As I said, a short loan they may not know about currently." Her best friend shrugged, "I've had it for 3 months so they obviously don't miss it." She dropped the tome onto the solid oak coffee table in front of them. The resulting dust cloud causing them both to cough.

"Three months!" Lucy didn't want to think about the overdue fines that would have incurred if the book was loaned out officially.

"Which isn't important Lu-chan." Levy wagged her finger in the familiar way Lucy had come to associate as her 'this is serious' gesture. "What is important is the name of the library."

"Levy, I don't know what you're talking about."

"The library is named after the first Djinn to rule over the modern world," Levy said, flicking the cover over revealed mottled pages, time staining the paper a sepia tone.

"And why would I care about Djinn?" Lucy asked, wondering the reason for the random mention, she sat forward to listen, "Djinn haven't been documented for thousands of years, even the scribes believe they are beings of pure myth."

"Since when has magic been about what we can and can't see? Besides those old crusties are set in their ways." Levy's scolding look said all Lucy needed to know, she should shut up and listen. History was her friend's forte, especially magical history. The girl's apartment was filled with weird and wonderful artefacts and a collection tacky merlin fridge magnets. Lucy didn't share her opinion on those for fear of her friends resulting conniption.

"Hey! I want to be a scribe." Lucy argues the fact they are all old crusties. Because she certainly wasn't.

"Lu-chan you are so much more than that. Which is the point I am getting to if you would stop interrupting me." Shushing her once again Levy opened the book to a certain page, with an accuracy that hinted this book was her latest project. If there were secrets to be found, Levy was on a mission to reveal them.

"Anyway, I did some research into this Asmodeus and he was the first djinn to break free from Alhalqa which translates directly to 'the ring'." Picking up a pair of glasses from the side, Lucy recognised them as seeing glasses. They were useful for reading quickly and translating all languages to the user's mother tongue.

"I still don't see why this is relevant to me."

"Alhalqa are rings made of blessed copper and iron, made to enslave the Djinn or as we know it a genie." Levy continued, explaining melted metals are manmade, their properties are forcefully changed. The metals deviated from nature and therefore have an adverse effect on beings that are intrinsically tied to the earth and magic.

Djinn were powerful beings and their magic reduced significantly in its presence, direct contact with their skin makes magic use potentially lethal i.e they can no longer use it limitlessly. Making them easier to control, but by no means helpless.

The sorcerers of old used to capture them as a living magic source. One that didn't require recharging and could cast catastrophic magic they would be unable to cast otherwise.

"To stop the ruthless greed for power of humans, Asmodeus cast a spell that sacrificed his body. His body became a gate, his blood the key and placed a curse on the earth that prevented humans having access to Eden." Eden, the dimension of paradise, a place of endless magic and unimaginable beauty. Lucy had heard many pipe dreams of discovery in the literature. She wasn't as enthused to come across it, as life had taught her; if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was.

What was the price of existing in such a place?

"I still don't know why this is relevant to me Levy?" Lucy asked, brain swirling with the information.

"This book is called the book of E.N.D and it is written in the ancient tongue or as some like to call it the language of angels."

"E.N.D? Sounds like your typical Indiana Jones artefact."

"To be honest that's not far off. Even some of the most talented tribes across the colleges' history have been unable to crack the code in this book" Face lighting up, Levy placed the book in Lucy's lap pointing to the foreign symbols that seemed to meld together, the harder she looked the blurrier it became.

"Code?" She asked.

"Yes. Knowing the ancient language isn't enough with this baby." That didn't matter to Levy, she had a talent for runes and hieroglyphs. "I managed to find out the Djinn live like the humans but they thrive in the alternate dimension and only crossed over to feed. They fed off our spirit but in return the kept the managed the cycles. I haven't managed to discover exactly what these cycles are."

"Levy." Lucy prompted her with her name, beginning to get interested.

"Okay, Okay. I just wanted to let you know if this wasn't my latest project. You wouldn't have a clue about what's been happening to you."

"Fine. I see your point."

"Good." Levi stated, diving straight back into her flow, "Another thing I found out is the djinn have a hierarchal society. The more power, the higher your status and the power is known from birth. All djinn are born in Alnnar Alhariqa which translates to 'the scorching fire'. It burns with the djinns sihr, their colour. Lucy your eyes went white but blue runes glowed on your skin whilst you were 'dreaming'." She tapped underneath her eye indicating the entire socket, "It was faint but it was there."

"Runes are branded by Alnnar Alhariqa," Levy sighed, lips pursing in frustration, "I can feel the magic pulsing within the book when I try to decipher as if the book is alive and choosing what it wants me to know."

"So, you're saying I might be a genie…" Lucy said the words slowly hoping it would make sense voicing them aloud.

"Basically. You've always been a gifted witch Lu-chan"

"That was down to hard work and studying, not because I'm this thing."

"There's always been something too natural about how fast you learn magic when you cast spells; the ethernano dances with you, not against you." It was true during spell combat training classes she had to rein in her spells, where others struggled to gather enough. Powerful spells had a rebound that wasn't pleasant, yet her instinct was to push, let the magic consume her, to yield.

Another reason was the magical community wasn't as accepting of abnormality as many would assume. Lucy didn't want to become a scholar's lab rat, to be examined and caged for the rest of her life. The only people who knew were those who had proven themselves trustworthy. Levy proved that ten times over when her life went to shot.

"Isn't that normal?"

"No, it's not. Most witches must concentrate to stop spells overwhelming them. Not with you."

"What am I supposed to do now?" As she said it, Lucy remembered her father had never allowed her to travel outside the city after her sixteenth birthday. She remembered that day clearly. Jude had been distant. In fact, he had been outright cruel, proceeding to take away everything that made her solitary life bearable. Her mother's pond was filled in, the statue of the water bearer smashed to pieces.

Aquarius.

Childhood memories of dancing running around in the serene waters with her mother, crumbled along with cold marble. Confined to her room, left feeling barren and akin to a prison when her furniture was removed. All traces of her mother being removed and replaced at a rapid pace.

Something a lonely child would perceive as normal for controlling parent, now it seemed like panic.

Asking her father should be easy enough if it wasn't for the fact he died of a heart attack last year. Very mortal and very human until his last breath. She knew going home was the best chance of finding answers. Even if the place was full of memories she'd rather stay in recesses of her mind.

Nostalgia filled her as she looked at her old home, desolate of life. Remembering a time of servants and merchants going about their day, at her father's behest. The rattle of old carriages on cobbled paths and the clopping of hooves as they made their way from the port, filled with souvenirs collected from all corners of the earth.

She loved to sit on the sea wall, listening to the waves break beneath her feet, sea birds calling from their nests atop the dainty harbour roofs.

Seaside cottages painted a vibrant white were now a smudged grey from years of neglect. The villagers that used to live on their land had long since deserted the village. Despite his faults, her father was a brilliant business man, his ingenuity keeping the place alive and thriving. As for Lucy, too many painful memories surrounded her hometown to consider staying here. So, she left and with no one to run the company, people left to find work and prosperity elsewhere.

Trekking her way up the steep path to the mansion, in her mind's eye, she could see the tradesmen who called out in greeting. The young master's little miss Lucy, who would smile happily from her mother's side as they browsed the shops for new interesting things to fill their home. Her mother used to buy her a book every week from a second-hand bookshop at the seafront.

Books that told the story of long-forgotten events and tales of mystery and adventure. Stories she couldn't wait for her mother to read to her at bedtime and as she got older, to read herself. Their home sat at the top of the village, obvious in its grandeur above the humble sloping rooftops.

A home that became a place to sleep in after her mother's death.

Passing through the wrought iron gates wasn't an easy task. Lucy found herself arguing with the rusted lock, almost cutting her palm as she forced it open. The scrapping of iron against brickwork echoed into village behind her, it's empty ricochet sending a shiver of mourning through her body. Squeezing her body into the garden she looked upon the place that might hold the answers to where she came from. The fountain she had fondly remembered stood outside the entrance, the stone still beautiful, setting it apart from the unkempt grounds surrounding it.

Gravel crunched under her weight as she carefully avoided overgrown bushes. Branches that once belonged to the topiary her mother has painstakingly sculpted jutted out into the path. As she neared the fountain she noticed the smell of stagnant water, moss and dead leaves coating the surface. Thankfully the stone was holding firm, no cracks marring the structure, albeit she could see dirt that clung to its side courtesy of the sea air, escalating the erosion of stone without the proper maintenance. She didn't notice that it was no longer the mess she had left it in. The past forefront in her mind.

Finding a purchase on the wall, Lucy sat on its ledge, like she used to as a child, laying her legs out flat and resting her back against a pillar. Grime stopped bothering Lucy when her life had taken a sad turn, showing her there were more important things to worry about than dirty clothes. Clothes could be washed anew. Loved ones, however, could not be brought back. No matter how many times she prayed. Thoughts of sitting at her mother's bedside surfaced, of gripping her hand desperately as if the touch would keep her on this plain.

Ashen skin looking dull against her porcelain glow, sores and tears covered her body, her eyes sunken life no longer dancing in their depths as she stared at the ceiling. Layla Heartfilia had stopped acknowledging people a long time ago, her vegetative state exhibiting no movement or recognition, for her husband or her beloved daughter. The moment Layla became sick her father changed, withdrawing from the world. An almost resentful look on his face in the rare moments he visited.

Lucy read her stories, called her name, held her hand and sang their favourite songs. Nothing worked. One day as she lay curled into her mama's side, telling her about her tutoring session, she heard a gurgle. Excitement filled her. Jumping off the bed she fetched a glass of water, placing it to her lips waiting for her to respond. She never did. Later in life, she realised it wasn't a gargle but a death rattle.

Lucy never found out what killed her, none of the medicine books she had read described the symptoms exactly. And her father refused to talk about it, keeping the knowledge with him in death.

Dipping her fingertips into the water, ripples from her touch cleared a patch of moss and shrubbery, allowing her to see the mirrored tones of twilight.

Paying attention, she could see blood orange accompanied by daffodil yellow. The water was stagnant, it shouldn't be clear, but murky and diluted. Glancing over the rest of the water she noticed it had changed to a clear state, algae now a neon periwinkle blue creating intricate swirls. It was breath-taking, the blue lights were little stars at dusk.

She could lean in and feel like she was touching the milky way, a single moment of her imagination taking her to an abyss. Where she could reach and the stars would reach back. Looking down, blue tribal marks started forming on her skin glowing in tandem with the algae. Sharply inhaling Lucy traced the bevelled lines following her arm upwards. Her feet poking out from under her skirt had the same pattern. Her eyes glanced back at her from the water, an eerie glowing white.

Leaning closer she saw the raised flesh around her eye, taking the form of speckles in an intricate mosaic, reminding her of Venetian masks. Shimmering and rippling, Lucy watched in amazement as her reflection started moving. A hand that should have stayed on the ledge was placed against the surface. As if it were a barrier.

Jerking backwards, the action causing her to slip and fall. Closing her eyes, she waited for the impact of the hitting a shallow bottom. It never came. Opening her eyes, she found herself floating in an expanse of water, vast and seemingly infinite. Panicking she spun around, throwing her body upward, holding her breath.

Looking up she could see the wall, ignoring the cold settling into her bones and making her body ache she tried to propel herself upwards. Instead of grabbing onto the side, she hit a barrier. An invisible force was stopping her from breaking through, forcing her back with a blast of magical energy. Pain threaded through her nerves, accompanied by a pounding headache said she was in trouble.

Swimming forward, she tried to free herself from whatever enchantment has been placed on the fountain. It was futile. The second blast draining her remaining strength. Darkness swallowed the world around her and she felt it latch onto her spirit, tearing it piece by piece from her body. Unable to move she watched as her soul was syphoned. Lucy had spent years of studying and she had never come across black magic of this magnitude. An enchantment that drained life. This wasn't witchcraft, it was sorcery.

Chattering birds, a light breeze caressing her cheek, and the sound of crickets in the height of summer permeated the silence of her mind. Coming too she realised, her body felt sticky in the humid air. The weight holding her in the darkness lifted, enabling her to bring her knees up, feeling lush grass under her soles.

Toes curling for better grip, Lucy pulled herself using her core muscles, folding her arms. Taking in her surroundings, Lucy noticed the bold colours that adorned the plant life, irises the size of which she had never seen grew at the bases of towering evergreens. Standing on shaky legs, she gritted her teeth as she felt needles pricking her skin. Walking forward, the jewellery adorning her attire jingling with each step.

Expanding her aura outward she tried to get a scope of the enchantments holding her in this world. It was powerful magic, to construct an entire plane of existence. To alter those who enter its realm, changing her attire was a feat she couldn't even contemplate, the cost to caster would be extreme.

The biggest question was the reason and she didn't anticipate a good one.

Unfortunately, breaking the enchantment required the know-how and as users of dark magic didn't want their hard work being undone. Figuring out the clues wouldn't be an easy task. Lucy hoped her natural lady luck would aid the process.

Smoke rising above the forest canopy was the first spate of fortune after hours of aimless wandering.

Smoke meant a fire and a controlled fire indicated life.

Seeing someone was better than being alone. Rushing in the same direction, keeping her eye on the smoke rising up to the red hues of the sky. If the bold and vivacious colours of the world didn't tell her she was far from home, the rose ether confirmed it. Undergrowth dug into her bare feet as she ran, her chiffon and cotton rags tangling in her legs.

The forest density increased as she progressed, it shouldn't be possible for them to have a will of their own, but Lucy could have sworn that was the case. Her foot snagged on what felt like root before her body catapulted upwards, hitting her head on a branch before falling. Snare tightening painfully around her foot as it stopped her hitting the ground, leaving her swinging. Lucy cursed as she felt her ankle pop, surmising the impact must have left her with a nasty sprain or fracture.

After hanging for a moment Lucy curled her body upward to try and grab the rope. The nerves in her ankle protesting extra pressure, shooting a warning signal straight up her leg and spine. Shuddering Lucy whimpered giving in momentarily, trying desperately to focus on something else and not the sensation wracking her system.

"I wouldn't do that."

Not expecting company Lucy jumped, twisting her body to the source. Yelping as her injury throbbed with vigour.

"What are you doing?" Irritation sparked from the stupid question.

"What does it look like?" She shot back, catching sight of the stranger for the first time.

Shock filled her as she took in a tall man, wearing a tatty black cloak, a hood covering their head and a white scarf was looped around broad shoulders.

"Hmph," Snarling with a tenor deep and rumbling, Lucy had to double take. Humans didn't have that kind of vocal capability. At that realisation, she could feel her heart rate increase.

What exactly was she looking at?

"Finally, a fitting reaction. Human." Spitting the word out, as though it was vulgar, she could hear accusation in his tone.

"What's your problem?" She asked, annoyed at his attitude and the fact he hadn't released her. The pain not helping with having no filter between her brain and mouth. At the back of her mind, she did register that strangely she had no fear of the being standing in front of her.

"You."

"Look, can you just let me down?" Scoffing, he brought his hand up and clicked his finger. Screeching Lucy barely had time to protect her head as she unceremoniously hit the floor when the rope disappeared. Snickering had her careening her head to the right, seeing his shoulders shaking in mirth.

"You look like a weirdo."

"No thanks to you!" Outrage filled her voice, her ire seemed to encourage him as chuckling turned to laughter.

"That face is an improvement, perhaps more humans should be captured like game. Then you wouldn't be so ugly." His sneer was unmistakable and she didn't need to see his face to know he was smirking.

"I am not ugly!"

"Not on the outside." He conceded but it wasn't the victory Lucy wanted.

"You are so rude."

"To those who deserve it" His reply was flippant, the way his body stiffened said he meant it.

"How do I deserve it?" She asked, rising to her feet trying to keep weight off her injury, "I was sitting in my garden minding my own business and now I'm here, talking to a jerk."

Huffing, he turned stomping off. Lucy attributed his body language to that of a child, his knees raising unnecessarily high and large hands cupping the back of his head. She didn't want to be left behind, she had been raised in a town and consequently had no idea how to survive in the wilderness. Numerous beasts could be waiting to kill her. Resolute in her decision, Lucy sprung forward in a burst of bravery. Hearing movement he turned as she tackled him, sending them plummeting to the ground.

Hearing an exasperated sigh fingers bit into the skin of her shoulders, a little too hard, as he tried to disentangle her from his person. Warmth spread rapidly through her system as though she submerged herself into a hot spring, her body absorbing his aura without question. Investigating where he gripped her shoulders, there were tribal looking marks similar to the patterns now emerging on her skin.

Red started to bleed into blue and recognition from an unknown source filled her, feeling her own spirit rise to interlace with his. Glancing up amazement etched on her face she went to question this new turn of events. His face neither pleased or inquisitive was fixed on the ground beside them. Lucy noticed her bag had opened its contents over the earth, including the book that Levi had lent her.

Initial shock over Lucy observed the man below her, his skin glowing akin to her own, however, his marking appeared to be aggressive in their symbology, engraved into his skin with energy that promoted power. As their auras moulded, she could feel his age and power in the marrow of her bones. In her years of study and practice, never had she met a being that held such vast energy.

Amber eyes narrowed into slits, the colour morphing between shades in his heightened state of anger. Briefly, she noted the shocking shade of pink crowning his angular face, accompanied by the nose of someone who had seen plenty of hand-to-hand combat. A look that was common of the young men joining gangs in the city. Judging by the solid mass of muscle that made up the man, he was no casual street fighter.

The glint in his eyes was that of an animal assessing its prey.

"Wha-!"

For the second time, Lucy found herself being flung back. Residue energy from his attack clung felt like lead on her psyche, magic was, of course, both physical and ethereal. Healing magic soothed mentally and bodily, similarly attacking damaged both. As quickly as he flung her back, he was out of sight.

"I-I know you're still there." Air head with magic power, its potency creating intense humidity.

Silk clung to her skin as her body struggled to adapt to the heady atmosphere. Her aura shimmering around her as it reacted to the foreign presence. Bubbling noises caught her attention, to her astonishment earth and trees started to smoulder, scorching holes opened in solid rock in seconds. Hot steam rising, the climate now akin to a natural sauna as it superheated the moisture in the air making it hard to breathe. Flashbacks to her visions, the choking, of dying, made panic rear its head.

What was this place?

Everything seemed to be void of life, barren just like her dream but this time she was conscious.

Red smoke started to wisp around her legs, crawling up her skin feeling like the patter of a thousand insects marching up her body. Despite having no experience with magic mutated to this extent, it didn't take much to figure out hostile intent. When casting a spell her body floated, blissful and at peace with the surrounding energy, a hug from the powers that be. The power surrounding her now was anything but friendly, malevolence imbued into its makeup.

"Alkhawna." A growl that tickled her ear, rasping, filled with bitter anger. Rage accumulated over aeons, longer than she could comprehend, mutated a husky tenor into a snarl.

"I don't know what you're saying"

"Kathaab," He said, she felt his mass against her back, hand applying pressure against her throat "You expect me to believe you don't know your own tongue."

"I wasn't raised as...djinn." Swallowing, the pressure of his hand not making it an easy task. Adrenaline pounding through her system as she desperately tried to think of a solution. There was no way she could overpower him; her best hope was the fact he hadn't killed her yet.

"Kathaab!"

"I told you I don't know what that means." And she didn't, however, Lucy was aware of the way nature seemed to respond to the language, magic palpating and vibrating as the sound rolled off his tongue.

"Liar."

"I am not a liar."

"You come here as her and you expect me to believe that." The mention of this her was spat from his tongue like poisoned blood. Pain and betrayal apparent, old memories loosening his grip but still it wasn't enough for her to break free.

"I still don't know what you're talking about," She said, trying a different approach with a soft tone. Hoping to appeal to kinder emotions in the man behind her. He was quiet, seconds ticked by and Lucy noticed his magic started to simmer down into a tolerable warmth once more.

"Zahri."

"What?"

"You are blue blood, Mahrid." He stated, the guy was full of confusing statements with no explanation. "Did they send you? Is their fucked-up game now?" And they were back to the anger. As for being Mahrid, Levy did mention something about the djinn were divided by a hierarchy.

"No one has sent me, I just," Exasperation laced her tone, what did she have to do for him to get the hint, "ended up here."

"You don't 'end up here'. This dimension was made for me, imprisons me." Releasing his grip, Lucy found herself being spun around to meet stunning eyes, the colour of the evergreens that had bordered her estate at home. Transfixed by the transformation, gravity was lost on her wandering mind.

"What?"

"Fond of the word?" Lucy recognised his playful tone, her mind whispered this is how he should sound.

"Shut up."

"Enough." Rough hands cupped her cheeks, a thumb silencing her retort, "Why are you here habibti?" Lucy noticed the fire still flickering in his eyes, the furrow in his brow said the man didn't trust her. The white haze from her vision flashed across her consciousness. A heavy sadness and foreign familiarity settled on her chest.

Habibti.

Beloved.

Lucy blinked, realising a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Why did he say it so sadly?

Natsu.

-x-

Glossary

Alkhawna - Traitor

Kathaab - Liar

Habibti - Beloved

Mahrid - Blue Djinn

sihr - Djinn Magic

Zahri - Blue

#nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail #ftfanfics #mythcreationsfairytail #mahrid #djinn #genie #my fanfics #nalu fanfiction

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autistic-beshelar · 7 years

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ok so im gonna write these down to keep track of them

- weird sunburny-feeling patches on skin (like somewhere between sunburn and scraping your knee). usually either on bottom of arm or leg, usually lasts up to an hour. currently have it on underside of right leg and it’s been that way for... about 8 hours - costochondritis (although that hasn’t played up in quite a while) - constant colds/chest infections that don’t go awaayyy - tremor, getting worse, mostly in fingers/hands, but also a kind of weird tremor like shaking in legs sometimes when im standing. and i don’t think it’s just bc i don’t eat enough bc i eat about the same if not more than my parents so? idk - literally always back/shoulder pain why - muscle spasms/twitches, esp in legs atm - vision is THE WORST. astigmatism, but doesn’t seem to be helped by glasses. like. at all. even though i just got a new prescription. just. literally always blurry vision that’s even worse when im tired or when there’s bright lights which is so not helpful at work - my body has never known temperature control in its life - literally tired all the time like wtf. i mean one bonus is that i’m falling asleep easier the last few months whereas it used to take me a long time but. also i’d like to not have to sleep for twelve hours a night just to be vaguely functional - wrist painnnn (altho this could be from typing but im sure it shouldnt be this much) and random shooty pains elsewhere idk i don’t even pay attention man - hecking. um. possible uti or sth idk - what even is balance - that time when my right arm went totally numb even though i wasn’t lying on it - what feels a bit like growing pains except im nearly 21 and i am fairly sure my legs aren’t gonna get any longer - h e c k e n i n g c ram ps - what is circulation. have my feet ever known blood - them fuckin weird rashes on the tops of my arms and the bottom of my legs wtf is that about edit: - keep feeling like there’s something stuck in my throat - balance is a lie - keep feeling like my tendons and pulling when i walk - walking slower - actually started dragging my leg the other day coming back from piano even though i’ve walked that distance once a fortnight since february and been totally fine

i think that’s it? i mean. yeah. probably

eta:

- left shoulder feels like it’s sitting wrong (has felt like that for about 6 months) - left arm frequently feels ‘weird’ like i’ve trapped a nerve, going down to my little finger which feels pins and needlesey - weird tightness/pain has now (today 15/07) spread down to my ribs - breathless easily - feeling like i can’t catch my breath

11/12 edit:

- RIP MY JAW - haven’t had a cold in ages! it’s winter so ill probably get one now but thats good! - chest pain (both types) has been fairly good recently - thyroid area was playing up for a while but as of a couple of weeks ago it seems to have calmed down - v i b r a t i o n s - srsly i’m not sure how much of that is tiredness/lack of eating and how much is just. The Thing. in legs, in back (usually when sitting up straight, though not often), and shakiness in hand (tho hand shakiness doesn’t feel quite the same, though that could justbe bc im comparing fingers to legs which are rather larger) - mmm back of neck pain is like. there. but its usually mild like a 2 or a 3 i guess - shoulder is better! need to do exercises more often

13/04 edit:

- hypermobile (beighton score 6) - feet cold! feet cold! - t i r e d - also have an eating disorder so who knows what that’s causing - am currently on setraline, vitamin D and iron - back cracky. back cracky bad. need chiropractor stat - today my RIGHT SHOULDER FELT WEIRD. why. you’re meant to be the good one - did i mention my back is bad (a lot of this is undoubtedly posture i really gotta find a more comfortable sitting position) - may have EDS who knows. not me. (i never lost control) - shooty pain and uncomfy joint weirdness is Much today (still notmore than like a 3 but it’s worse than normal (or im more aware bc of the eds thing? idk idk) - haven’t had a cold in ages so that’s cool! - trying to up calorie intake - got fitted for a soft mouthguard today so hopefully that will help the TMJ

#???#a list of things that are a little bit wrong #they're not bad? like? it's fine?#but figured i should make a list #bc sometimes theyre hecking annoying #but also funny in a weird way

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angstyaches · 4 years

Text

Let Yourself Out

Seriously, will this day ever end for these two?!

CW: nightmares, sleep paralysis, panic, trauma, repressed memories, demonic possession, emeto, fear of/danger of drowning (abstract)

Swallow the World: The Ouija Board, Pt. 8

Charlie was watching the waves again, or at least, his mind was. He always found he wasn’t fully asleep when this happened; it happened somewhere on the edge of consciousness, where he went most deeply into his thoughts. It was dark at the edges of his vision, and it made him dizzy to turn his head too much. He was stuck staring out at the harsh pale blue of the sky, and the line it made with the sea. He sensed the eyes that were close to him, but he couldn’t meet them. Or didn’t want to.

Why didn’t you tell him?

Well, I – he was hurting so much, and it wasn’t what he needed to hear.

He doesn’t think he’s worthy of love. Seems to me it was exactly what he needed to hear.

No. No, it wouldn’t have been fair, I – I want him to know he’s worthy of love, but not just mine -

There’s another reason you didn’t tell him.

Charlie tried to swallow, but it felt like his throat had caved in with rocks and rubble. Water sloshed around his ankles and his hips where he sat huddled up, clinging to his ankles.

I suppose I’m a bit scared that he won’t say it back.

Liar.

Charlie shivered at a creeping coldness that lapped at his feet and hips.

You’re afraid he’ll say it, and you won’t believe him.

Charlie tried to turn his head again, to look away from the increasing power of the waves, but he couldn’t get a good look at his surroundings. Every time his gaze wandered past his feet or his shoulders, it snapped back forward. He couldn’t even tell what time of day it was, no matter how hard he tried. All he could see was endless blue.

Let me out.

I didn’t put you here, Charlie.

This time, he was able to follow the sound of the voice. He looked down, into the water gathering around his body; by now, it had risen up to his waist. His own eyes were nowhere to be seen in the black chasms that stared back at him.

Let me out, please!

You’re the one with the brain. Let yourself out.

The water turned black with spreading shadows, and Charlie began to scream. It started off as a childish wailing, the sobs of an infant clawing for the simple embrace of a parent; it ended deep and hollow, a lament for things that couldn’t be changed, couldn’t be saved, couldn’t be understood. It ripped at his lungs and made his throat feel like it was bleeding.

The cold began to spread through his body like fire, locking up his bones and crumbling his nerves until it felt like he was dying, he was dying, he was dying, and nobody cared, nobody wanted to save him, nobody cared –

I do. I always have.

Charlie’s eyes opened on his bed in Mulberry house, and he listened our for that voice again, but he was alone. No Shayne, no Charlie Two. He didn’t even feel like he counted as a presence in the room.

Hello? he wanted to ask, but he was frozen. His limbs felt like tree branches scattered across a forest floor, unable to move of their own volition, ready to be trampled by the next feet or hooves that came by, indiscernible from the rest of the twigs and fallen foliage.

Where did you go?

Charlie closed his eyes, trembling lips prying themselves apart to let out a harrowing moan, something that seemed to come right out of his bones, skipping his throat and his mouth altogether. It snaked out of him and loosened his jaw, and finally, finally, he could scream again, and he did, he screamed and he screamed, not only because he was terrified, but because he could.

He didn’t know how long it was before that feeling of being pulled underwater eased up, and he was able to curl into himself and cry, but eventually he felt arms pull him close, body heat trapping him against the rocks – no, the mattress; there was a mattress and a blanket, and he was safe, he was here, all of him was –

“Charlie.”

His crying tapered down to a pitiful squeak.

See? You did it. You’re alright.

“Charlie? Charlie, talk to me, please.”

Charlie scrambled upright, finding that he wasn’t alone after all. He must have been dreaming that Shayne had left, because there he was, sitting upright in bed next to him and staring at him like he’d seen a ghost come out of his mouth.

“Shayne,” Charlie gasped, and he threw himself towards him, scrambling until he was basically straddling him. Shayne gasped as he took his weight, but slowly pulled him close with trembling arms.

“What the hell?” Shayne choked out softly. “You were screaming, and I – I couldn’t wake you. What happened?”

“I was s-so…” Charlie’s heart and stomach felt like they were causing a traffic jam in his throat as he buried his face in Shayne’s shoulder. He couldn’t get out any of the sobs that had come so vigorously in the dream. “Scared.”

“Of what, of what?”

Charlie shook his head, just once, before it was lanced through with pain from his left temple. He winced loudly. “I – I-I can’t – can’t remember.”

“Was it Charlie Two?”

Charlie could have sworn he heard, or sensed, Charlie Two chuckling at that.

“No, no, Charlie Two was there, but…” Guilt fluttered in Charlie’s ribcage, like he was telling tales about someone when they hadn’t done anything wrong. “It was something else. It was – it was dark, but – but bright at the same time, and –”

Charlie scrunched up his face against Shayne’s shoulder, trying to stifle a gag before it could set in. The fuzzy black edges and cold tidal pull from the dream seemed to seep back towards him. The pain in his temple had crept down to his eye, and his stomach was swirling like the water had swirled against his legs in the dream.

He felt a gurgle in his throat. “Shayne?”

“Mmm?”

“I feel sick.”

He had forgotten that he’d taken a plastic bowl from downstairs in case Shayne had needed it, until he felt Shayne shift his weight and lean across to get it. Charlie sat back a bit so the bowl would fit between them, still basically sitting in Shayne’s lap like a trembling child.

“Thanks,” Charlie muttered, clinging to the bowl with one hand, and squeezing Shayne’s shoulder with the other so he could remain upright. “So, there was – there was water, and it kept getting higher and higher, and – god, I thought I was g-going to –”

He was cut off by a violent heave from his diaphragm, lowering his head in time to let sticky yellow fluid drip into the plastic bowl. He felt Shayne tip his head against the top of Charlie’s, felt a hand snaking across his back. Charlie puked again with a guttural moan that reminded him of the sensation of trying to scream while not being able to move a muscle. He’d suffered from occasional sleep paralysis for as long as he could remember, but he’d never tried to scream in his sleep before. He gasped for breath as another wave of sick hit the bowl.

“I th-thought I was g-going to die…” Charlie blinked dizzily as he looked at his vomit sitting in the bowl that he’d positioned right under his own face and Shayne’s. He gagged, pressing one hand to his mouth to block out the smell, freeing the other hand so he could pick up the bowl.

“I’ve got it,” Shayne mumbled, taking the bowl and reaching out to put it on the bedside locker. He had also moved a fist to cover his mouth, and he closed his eyes as soon as he wasn’t in danger of knocking the bowl over.

Charlie’s heart dropped when he saw that nauseated expression. “Th-that was disgusting, I’m –”

“Sshh.” Shayne shook his head, probably in annoyance. “Here, lie back down.”

“Am I h-hurting your legs?”

“No, but you’re shaking and I’m worried you’re going to fall off the bed.”

Charlie carefully slid back onto his side of the mattress, though his legs stayed somewhat entangled with Shayne’s as they both laid their heads on the pillow. Charlie’s heart felt like it was going to break his ribs if it pounded any harder.

“Think you can sleep again?” Shayne asked uncertainly. “It’s getting bright, but you can probably get another hour or so.”

“Maybe,” Charlie sighed. His head throbbed ominously, and he buried his face a little harder against the pillow, creeping closer to Shayne’s shoulder. “I just really don’t want to have any more dreams like that.”

“You won’t. I’ll eat them if they come close.”

Charlie let out a laugh that was more like a sigh after it made it past the mess in his chest and throat, the aftermath of screaming and throwing up.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere despite knowing it was a joke. He breathed deeply, lungs spasming as they recovered from the panic. “Shayne, this – this is a bit weird, but if you’re feeling okay, can I put my head on your stomach?”

“Um. Okay?” Shayne paused a second before starting to adjust the blanket. “Only if you promise not to wake up screaming again.”

Charlie let out a small moan of self-pity and contentment as he curled up with his head against the wide front pocket of the hoodie that he’d let Shayne borrow. His eyes fluttered shut as Shayne’s hand smoothed over his hair, fingertips lingering softly over the ache in the left side of his skull.

#swallow the world #ouija board #demonic possession #no emeto #tw emeto #tw nightmare #tw trauma #charlie #shayne #sick charlie #charlie two #tw drowning #tw repressed memories

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