#and why can he sense when Nocturn is awake...

[tealclover]

This Way Out

So, Tails slipped up. Not only did he manage to get himself snagged, but he dragged Belle into this with him. To make matters worse, Starline was unbearably smug about the whole thing. Yeah, yeah, he got the Sonic the Hedgehog’s sidekick. Whoop-de-friggin-doo.

Just when Tails was starting to prove himself again. Ugh. How embarrassing. 

Well, enough of that. He promised Sonic he’d be fine, and he intended to keep his word. All he had to do was find a way to get Belle and himself out safely. … But who exactly were those two Mobians hanging around the facility?

(Alternate ending to Sonic IDW Issue #36, featuring a snarky fox. Some angst, some crack.)

Even before fully regaining consciousness, Tails knew he was in for a headache. And not just literally, though the pulsing in his temple was certainly noteworthy.

For starters, before even opening his eyes, he was lying stiffly on his back of all places. Tails never slept on his back if he could help it – his namesakes made resting much more reasonable on his side or belly. Sleeping on his tails was both uncomfortable and impractical. Impractical because it left his belly and other more vulnerable parts exposed. Uncomfortable due to the cold and the fact that his namesakes trapped underneath him, occasionally numb from lack of bloodflow. Which they were. But so were his arms and his legs, and, oh, he couldn’t move at all actually. 

It was probably too much to hope that that beeping indicated that he’d spent the last fifteen hours on a stone-hard hospital bed, seeing how his last waking recollection involved him and Belle separating, tons of snow, and…

Starline. Who wanted to kidnap him. For supposedly scientific purposes.

Ugh.

With no small amount of trepidation, the fox bleerily opened his eyes. He was immediately rewarded for his efforts with too much light why couldn’t he live like the nocturnal creatures foxes were meant to be and a sinister chuckle that grated on his nerves.

“Ah, Young Master Prower. I see you are awake.”

Yup. And he wished he wasn’t.

“Starline.” Oof. Voice crack. That wasn’t doing his credibility any favors. How long had he been out? He coughed, trying to get his voice back before roughly continuing: “I hope you’ve got a five star meal on the way; otherwise I’m going to have to give this stay a poor review. Don’t tell me this is a hospital bed,” he grimaced at the surface he was strapped to, arms, tails, and all. He was trapped for the time being, but appeared to be intact, at least. If the bindings were ignored, he could have passed for a patient – the presence of the finger pulse oximeter amongst other diagnostic tools were certainly intriguing, if not concerning. Were those vials of blood his? “Or do. Cause I’m not sure there’s much I can do for you if you think it’s acceptable to let your guests sleep on tables.”

The platypus stared at him for a few seconds, like he hadn’t expected the witty response. It was actually kind of funny to watch him visibly reboot and reassess the fox. Finally, he sighed. “I suppose you were raised by Sonic. It makes sense that you would share his poor taste in humor.”

“It clearly beats your taste in decor,” Tails sniped back. Starline hummed at that.

“Public perception of you paints you to be a polite boy genius. It seems that isn’t entirely true.”

Tails shrugged. Or tried to, anyway. “The general population wouldn’t consider strapping me to an examination table. Care to explain that, by the way?”

Starline smiled a sweet-sick smile. “Oh, you’re curious, are you? To be quite frank, I want to see if you can find out. Why don’t you and Miss Belle take a moment to catch up?”

Tails froze. “Belle?”

“I'm here, Tails…” the voice came from his left. He peered over as far as he could to see the robotic marionette on a second table a short distance away. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, but from what he could see of her… she looked distraught. Not fearful, necessarily, but despairing, which was somehow even more worrisome. 

“Belle, are you okay?” He asked gently. She sniffled, ducking her head into her chest as best as she could. Were those… tear tracks on her cheeks? She could cry? Why was she crying? He took a second to shoot a gleeful Starline a sharp glare before refocusing on his newest companion. “Belle, are you hurt?” 

“... No,” she whispered.

Tails didn’t know if he believed that, but he didn’t know how to press the issue with the correct amount of sensitivity, especially with Starline hovering over them. What a creep. Couldn’t he leave? “Okay… okay. It’s going to be alright, I promise.” He waited for Belle’s tiny nod before continuing. “How long have you been active?”

“About… twenty minutes. I’ve been offline s-since the avalanche. I… I’m sorry, Tails. You came back for me and now-”

“I’m not worried about that, Belle,” he told her, firmly but not unkindly. “We’ll figure it out. Can you tell me what you remember?”

“I…” She made a strangled sound, but forced herself to continue. “My d-d… my creator was Mr. Tinker.” Tails gut sank. He wasn’t surprised, not with their matching attire, but it was still a sad confirmation to hear. “That… that jerk figured it out. He, he told me-” she hiccuped again. “It’s his fault Mr. Tinker is gone. He changed him into Eggman.”

“... I’m sorry, Belle.” What could he say to that? This wasn’t something he could fix with a wrench and a bit of mechanical know-how. Belle was a robot, but her feelings were hardly artificial. After Emerl, Gamma, and their successors, Tails was very well aware of that. She was just as much of a person as anyone organic; something that was clear to him from the moment they met. He couldn’t just reprogram her to feel better. Or, well, maybe he could, but that wouldn’t be right. To do so would likely be robbing her memories and cheapening her experiences, changing who she was in the process. It wouldn’t truly fix anything; frankly, it would likely lead to an identity crisis later on.

And so, all he had to offer her was kindness, and time to recover once they escaped.

“I… don’t know how to help with Mr. Tinker, but my friends and I would be happy to have you, if you want. I have space for you back at my workshop, and the Restoration accepts anyone who wants to to have a part of it. If you want a home, we’ll give you one. We can try to figure out the rest in time.”

Belle was quiet. Finally, she tearfully confessed, “That would be nice.”

He offered her a smile even though she still wasn’t looking. “I’m glad you think so. We’ll do our best to make it worth your while.” He hesitantly continued. “Did Starline do anything else?”

She shook her head. “He just… listened to me talk a-about Dad. About home, Windmill Village, and how the villagers kicked me out after the Metal Virus cleared up. I got so mad, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He doesn’t care at all about what he did. He only wanted the code.”

“Code…?” At that, Tails shot another glance in their captor’s direction, though the platypus had since turned his attention to the monitor at Tails’ side, turned so that the fox couldn’t read any of the details. Were Belle’s readings stashed away in that device? … No. At least, it wasn’t just her information. Starline was gathering his vitals as well. But why? From the sounds of things, he was trying to get a reaction out of Belle earlier, and now, he was… testing Tails? Did he truly want him to uncover the motivations behind their kidnappings or was he simply fishing for another set of reactions from a different subject? He wouldn’t put it past Starline to have something of a sadistic streak – most villains lately did – but not one without purpose. If that was all he did, there had to have been some sort of incentive, something to be gained…

Why him? Why Belle? Her thoughts and feelings, and his-

Was he trying to record them both?

Was Starline in his head right now? 

A delighted laugh at his side told him that yes, he probably was.

“Positively remarkable, young Master Prower! You are truly one of a kind.” The platypus’ hands clapped together. “It is no wonder Sonic has prevailed for so long! He is powerful on his own, but you, you can keep pace with him, you adapt to his spontaneity and can plan in the heat of the moment so that he is successful in his every endeavor, no matter how foolish or impossible.  It is little wonder that the two of you alone keep Doctor Eggman on his toes, despite his armies, his keen intellect, and his prowess…” He stood to approach Tails again, looking down upon him with glee. “You truly are the greatest of combinations.”

That would have been a heart-warming compliment, had it not come from the mouth of a madman. As it stood, the fox had to resist the urge to squirm under that predatory gaze. He would not give Belle another reason to be afraid. 

“And, in spite of knowing all of that,” Tails mildly remarked, “you brought me straight to your base.”

Starline was likely to overestimate himself. In his eyes, he had a useful enemy at his mercy. He was less likely to seriously consider the fact that, in the process, he had invited that very foe into his base, to say nothing of the others that would come knocking down his door later.

… Let him read those thoughts.

“Is that a threat?” The doctor mockingly inquired, unfazed and clearly quite confident. “You hardly have the advantage, fox.”

“I've gotten out of stickier situations.” This wasn't even the first time somebody thought to make a labrat of him, his first encounter with the Deadly Six coming to mind. … Hopefully, this wasn't going to become a trend. 

“Perhaps, but I've taken precautions. Escape won't come easily for you.” The villain adjusted his glove with a self-assured smirk. “You are now quite the valuable asset to my plans.”

“Which are…?” Tails pressed, earning him a condescending pat on the head that made his skin crawl.

“All in due time, little specimen. As it stands, I've already shared too much with you, and I really must get back to work. You have such fascinating insights; it’s a pity we won’t be discussing this further, seeing how you will have no recollection of this conversation,” he coolly lamented, hand shifting from his bangs to his eyes.

“Now, it is time for you to go back to sleep.”

So... yup! Here's a glimpse of a brainworm I've had for a little while regarding Issue #36. It's a little rough and is absolutely a WIP (the end is particularly prone to change), but I felt like sharing a bit of it! Hope whoever finds it likes it! :)

#sonic the hedgehog #sth #miles tails prower #tails the fox #sonic idw #starline #starline the platypus #dr starline #belle the tinkerer #sonic idw issue 36 #fun to write! but also this is not a comfortable situation for anyone here haha #sonic fanfiction #fanfiction #wip

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Special Interest 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Saturday morning has you in a fog as you awake from a long night of vivid but forgotten dreams. You can't recall a single detail but you're thoroughly irritated by your nocturnal alternate reality. As you go down to claim your morning coffee and bid away the headache looming behind your brow, you're greeted by your parents' voices.

"Hmm, it's still doing that thing," your dad huffs, "strange."

"I told you, hon," your mom hums, "that nice man says it's um, you know, this U part... well... I can't remember exactly what he said."

You drag your feet into the kitchen and squint, "call a plumber, please. I'm done getting sprayed in the face."

"You got plumber money?" Your dad snips, "look, I can figure it out. I'll check the Facebook group."

"I'm sure all the boomers on their will know exactly how to lift the sink up by its bootstraps," you chuckle.

"Honey," your mother warns as your dad fumbles with his phone, jabbing at the screen with his index finger.

"I'm not a boomer," he grumbles as he shakes his head.

"Kidding," you fill the coffee carafe from the fridge filter to avoid further breaking the sink, "you know I'm teasing."

"Huh, says here I got the wrong part," your dad scratches his chin, "s'alright, I gotta grab a few things down at the depot anyway."

"How much are you going to spend before you get a professional in here?" Your mother challenges.

"It's eleven bucks, honey," your dad retorts with a sickly sweetness in his tone, "you wanna come with me?"

"Ugh, no, I'm making lemon meringue."

"Lemon mer-- why on earth are you going to all that trouble?"

"Because, Wilson, is it's a nice day and I want pie--"

Right, you're going to let the coffee brew as their marital discord does the same. Your parents tend to swing between head over heels and to the point of throwing hands on any day. A stormy but efficient relationship. It hardly lends credence to your mother's desperate pleas for you to snag a husband.

You go back upstairs and sit down at your work table. You open your planner and review your tasks for the day. Print some stickers, get some more work down on that infinity scarf, and maybe a nap if you make good progress. First, some music to drown out your parents as they go back and forth. Oh marriage does seem like a fairytale.

🧶

Your day wanes away to afternoon as you furrow your brow at your needles. You slouch uncomfortable against a pile of pillows against the corner of the wall. Your legs are bent atop the bed as a Youtube video plays on your phone and fills the void. The ombre effect looks good but this is sure tedious.

The fall grays to a winterly malaise. The only good thing about this time of year is the opportunity to wear turtlenecks and drown in hot drinks. Thinking of, you could use another. Maybe not coffee, but hot chocolate could scratch your itch. You loop the scarf over your neck as you jostle off the bed and keep up your looping.

You drift out of your room, crocheting and peeking up every few steps. You make a lazy descent and as you come to the first floor, you hear a commotion in the kitchen. Is your dad still at it? At this rate, you may as well just toss the sink out.

You enter, hoping that a hot chocolate isn't too much to ask. You stop short as you see two legs sticking out from beneath the sink. Those are not your father's boots. Did he really cave and hire a plumber?

Your mother hovers over the man, watching him as she leans on the open cupboard door.

"Thank you so much for doing this," she preens, "so lucky you could make it over. I swear, Wilson was going to drive himself to an aneurysm," she babbles. That's the thing, even service workers are a target for her ramblings. You pity the man stuck beneath the pipes, trapped with her yammering.

"Yeah, no problem, beats the troughs at the farm," the man responds lightly.

Suddenly you don't feel so bad for him as you recognise his voice. Your mother sure is an idiot. She invited this weirdo into her home? Your home? You can't say you're surprised, only deeply disappointed.

Before you can flee, your mother's attention is drawn by the unintentional click of your needles as they hit each other. Fuck.

"There you are, sweetie. Look who came to fix the sink," she chimes.

"Ugh," is all you give her as you commit to your mission. You poke the needles into the yarn and let them hang. You grab a packet of chocolate powder and mug. You keep your back to the duo as you flip on the kettle to boil.

"Hey," Cole says, his voice no longer muffled beneath the counter.

You don't acknowledge him. You mom harrumphs.

"Honey, don't be like that. He's a guest," she tuts, "oh, Cole," she continues on her tittering, "I made some pie, do you want to stay for dinner?"

You growl. This isn't going to work. You think you'll just starve in your room. You narrow your eyes at the kettle, willing the water to boil telepathically. It doesn't work.

"Well, I'd hate to impose," he says, grunting as he sets his feet and stands, his shadow rising over your shoulder. "Alright, so this is what we're going to do, start the dishwasher. It should create enough pressure to clear the block."

“Oh, you're so clever,” your mother praises. “And it's no problem, we have more than enough. It must be such a far way, I couldn't send you off just like that.”

“He probably has work to do on his farm. His home. Hanging out with the pigs or whatever,” you chirp.

“We don't have pigs. Got some chickens though. Oh, you should try some of the eggs,” Cole brushes by your insult, “maybe I could bring you some–”

“Probably not necessary, they sell eggs at the 7 Eleven.”

“Don't be so rude,” your mother snaps, “you're embarrassing yourself and me. If you're going to keep this up, you won't have any pie.”

“Fine with me,” you stick your tongue out.

“Look, hey,” Cole injects with his palms out, “I guess… I guess it's time to come clean. Camila, your daughter, she has a good reason to hate me. We've met before and I put my foot in my mouth and I think I embarrassed her so for that I apologise. I feel awful about it and I should've brought it up sooner.”

“Oh, wow, you–” your mom reels at the revelation, “well, I think then it's meant to be. The universe brought you back so you can apologise. Honey,” she turns to you, “can't you forgive him?”

You blink. The kettle clicks off as it boils. You glance between them. You turn your back to the kitchen and fill your mug, stirring with a spoon before tramping off without a word.

His act might work on her but you know he didn't find you to say sorry. He's too old to be wasting his time on you. He's pathetic.

#cole turner #dark cole turner #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #special interest #drabble #series #au #bookstore au #ghosted

[garf-lover96]

Astarion Ancunín x Julian Devorak crackship hcs

ah i see your endless comparisons between them, so i know this is not a post for too niche of an audience..... i just had this thought about them actually being together and my brain started working too fast so i just had to write it all down

disclaimers: for simplicity reasons, let's assume they meet on some ambiguous middle ground between their worlds; these are headcanons for spawn!Astarion (after killing Cazador) and upright!Julian (minus the mc i suppose) because i wanted to make them healthy and fluffy

———

a little exposition:

• they meet in a tavern (obviously!). Julian falls first and buys Astarion a drink, Astarion falls harder later on

• it takes Julian quite a bit of courting to get Astarion to agree to go on a date with him, but when he agrees, he's rewarded with the most romantic (and brilliantly planned) night of his life

• Astarion really appreciates Julian's patience and understanding when he finally opens up about his past. they exchange some stories of the hard moments in their lives

• somewhere in the middle of those comes up the fact that Astarion is a vampire which gets a "well, obviously...?" reaction from Julian. Astarion is a little embarrassed about that

• eventually, they agree to be in a relationship! they warm up to each other at a incredibly fast rate and start living together after more than a few exciting adventures together (but it doesn't mean they plan to stop going on them any time soon)

living together/relationship dynamics sillies:

• getting right into it, Julian obviously enjoys getting bitten and is more than happy to let Astarion feed on him. he asks Astarion to do it whether he's hungry or not. are you sure you don't need a snack?? absolutely sure????

• Astarion learns how to make a few simple meals for Julian. he notices when Julian forgets to eat for a longer while and wants to make sure he doesn't collapse out of starvation. he says that he's doing it only so his blood tastes better, but Julian knows he's just worried about him..

• Julian's sleep schedule is messed up as is so he definitely doesn't mind having to become nocturnal for his partner. hell, he can even stay awake for the whole 24 hours! maybe even 48 hours, occasionally. which always results in a crash and he ends up sleeping through at least 12 hours straight to make up for it

• when that happens—and Astarion has nothing better to do—he tends to just orbit around him the whole time he's asleep. he usually picks out a book and lays down close to Julian's chest so he can listen to his heartbeat while enjoying some literature

• Astarion was a little sceptical of Malak when they started living together but it turned out they actually get along quite nicely. Astarion praises him every time he steals something..

• Julian is very interested in the logistics of being a vampire, and now that he finally has the chance, he wants to know all there is to know about the topic. the lack of heartbeat, the heightened senses.. the teeth.. he gets a little giddy thinking about them. or seeing them of course

• they both get haunted by nightmares but since half of the time at least one of them is awake while the other is sleeping (or in that damn reverie when it comes to Astarion) because of their confusing sleeping patterns, they make sure to calm each other down from them. they breathe together, cuddle and mutter words of reassurance to each other

• their morbid interests go quite well together. of course, while Astarion's specific interest lies in stabbing people sometimes and Julian's lies in anatomy and the more theoretical stuff in general, Astarion actually enjoys it when Julian goes on one of his medical rants and explains in exhausting detail. for instance: why someone bleeds out faster when they get stabbed in the neck rather when they get stabbed in the stomach

• Julian is always acting as Astarion's mirror. he's there for every request and makes sure to compliment Astarion plenty whenever he gets the chance. he lives to serve and reassure. Astarion is immensely grateful for that

• they're both consent kings, they always make sure to discuss anything requiring it. they check up on each other even after agreeing to it anyway

• they absolutely love using pet names. they can barely go without using "darling", "dear" and "my love" every other sentence

• Julian teaches Astarion how to dance. it takes a little convincing, but when Astarion realizes that Julian is actually a pretty great teacher, he relaxes and lets himself be guided. now they make sure to make time for it at least once a week

• Astarion loves hearing Julian's silly stories from his travels and always asks sarcastic follow up questions. think the "oh, and were there dragons there?" kind

• even though there's a big height difference between them (5'9 and 6'4), they pick each other up all the time. Julian started it by picking Astarion up when he least expected it. but since Astarion is no longer limited by the tadpole, is eating well and Julian is skinny anyway, he's more than capable to get his revenge on him as often as possible

———

broke: Astarion and Julian are pretty similar to each other!

woke: they're actually in love and married and they kiss each other on the lips mwah mwah mwah

#I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS #heres to hoping itll reach the people that experienced the pipeline #hope this wasnt TOO long tho... #julian devorak #the arcana #astarion #bg3 #crackship #garf lover96 creation

[magic-hcs]

ut and us bros with a rat monster s/o? cheese-

But of course! I love your pun by the way anon!

Sky: US Sans

Syrup: US Papyrus

Time to cast some magic and see what we’ll get!✨

✨✨

Sans: He loves how your nose keeps twitching no matter what you’re doing. It especially happens when you’re focused and it's the main reason why you find him staring at you with admiration when you’re working on something. Loves to nap with you during the day, but sometimes finds your nocturnal tendencies a bit annoying. When Sans wants to tuck in for the night, you are ready to explore outside or start doing all kinds of things around the house. It keeps poor Sans awake and he needs his sleep. Sometimes (mostly when he doesn’t have work the next day) he’ll stay up with you, indulging in your nocturnal energy.

✨✨

Papyrus: Papyrus doesn’t mind your nocturnal tendencies at all! Papyrus sometimes stays up late too so he doesn’t mind at all. He’s very curious about the differences between you and him, often suddenly asking questions out of nowhere. Like if you’re interested in cheese, if you can hold your breath for a long time, or if you can understand normal rats or mice. Questions like these just pop into Papyrus’s mind and he blurts them out without really thinking about it twice.

✨✨

Sky: He’s a bit bummed that you aren’t as active in the daytime as in the night. Sky himself is more of a morning person. One time when he went downstairs in the middle of the night to grab something to drink, he found you with your face stuffed with peanut butter. Staring at him with those reflective eyes of yours. He loves it that you can tell which ingredients there are in a meal, even the most subtle ones you are able to pick out and Sky finds that amazing. That’s why Sky often asks you to help out with dinner. Sky completely lost his sense of smell long ago (Syrup only partly) so he has some trouble knowing when something is cooking for way too long or when he adds too little or too much of something.

✨✨

Syrup: Syrup loves to lie against your furry body. You’re like his own personal heater and blanket in one! Be prepared to get some rat memes or puns sent your way. He may have tripped over your tail a few times. Also a lover of when your nose twitches.

✨✨

✨✨

Thank you for participating in this spell, I hope it was to your satisfaction!

#magical prompts #undertale #papyrus #sans #undertale hc #undertale x reader #papyrus x reader #sans x reader #underswap #underswap x reader #underswap papyrus #underswap sans #underswap papyrus x reader #underswap sans x reader #sky #syrup #undertale papyrus x reader #undertale sans x reader #undertale sans #undertale papyrus

[vickyvicarious]

The Captain's final entry has finally arrived, and it has a fair bit in common with Jonathan's final entry/more generally several of his earlier entries. I've just been having fun kind of mentally collecting them, so here's what I have specifically noticed...

First off, I already wrote a post about a couple earlier similarities in how they both write to keep a clear record when strange things are happening, and how they both indulge the superstition of others (only to later realize the truth of it). So there's that. But then there's a bunch more recent stuff as well.

I am beginning to feel this nocturnal existence tell on me. It is destroying my nerve. Jonathan, 12 May Still fog, which the sunrise cannot pierce. I know there is sunrise because I am a sailor, why else I know not. Captain, 4 August

One of the first things Dracula does with Jonathan is keep him up all night to get him on a nocturnal schedule. While Jonathan eventually spends more time awake during the day when he knows Dracula is weakest, it seems like Dracula kept up their late-night talks until almost the end, meaning that every time he did so it came at the cost of losing some sleep. Even when he does get to sleep, there are some hints that he often has nightmares. (I'm not adding any sleeping quotes here because the points go together, and there would be so many to collect.)

With the Captain, one of Dracula's earliest/most persistent methods of torment is to deprive the crew of their sleep. The storms, if you believe he summoned them, start pretty early. Even if you don't buy that though, their fear leading to double watch even as more and more of them disappear leads to less rest. And then when the Captain is able to rest well he's awakened to find even more death. Eventually, Dracula deprives him of sunlight too, by surrounding the ship in a fog so thick that it's hard to even tell when it is day or night.

I am alone in the castle with those awful women. Jonathan, 30 June

While the Captain doesn't have any such clear quote, it is very much a major detail that he is entirely alone with Dracula at the end. In a sense, this is a contrast, because Dracula being gone is what makes Jonathan talk about being alone with such fear, but the essentials of the situation are the same: they're trapped in a place they cannot leave, with only vampire(s) for company who want to kill them - there's even an extra parallel if you add in the person they both feared/relied on has recently left (not that the first mate and Dracula fill the same role, but in this specific way it's kind of an echo).

I have placed the crucifix over the head of my bed—I imagine that my rest is thus freer from dreams; and there it shall remain. Jonathan, 12 May I shall tie my hands to the wheel when my strength begins to fail, and along with them I shall tie that which He—It!—dare not touch; and then, come good wind or foul, I shall save my soul, and my honour as a captain. Captain, 4 August

They both rely on a crucifix to protect them from Dracula... at least in a limited capacity. Jonathan has seen its efficacy proven, while the Captain more just has faith in it driving off demonic beings like Dracula must be. There's kind of a neat contrast in their opinion of the crucifix itself in that way, with Jonathan initially dismissing it as idolatrous but somewhat reevaluating his own faith once seeing that it affects Dracula, while the Captain at one point fears that he's been abandoned by God but later finds refuge in holding on to his own faith, with the crucifix itself serving as a physical manifestation of that.

And then away for home! away to the quickest and nearest train! away from this cursed spot, from this cursed land, where the devil and his children still walk with earthly feet! Jonathan, 30 June

Jonathan finally decides to risk it all to flee for home, finishing his original round trip. The Captain lashes himself to the helm so that nothing can stop him from completing his journey to the best of his ability. Both their final acts of defiance are in an effort to try and reach other people, to defy being trapped alone with these monsters.

If this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my good-bye. Jonathan, 4 May At least God's mercy is better than that of these monsters, and the precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep—as a man. Good-bye, all! Mina! Jonathan, 30 June If we are wrecked, mayhap this bottle may be found, and those who find it may understand; Captain, 4 August

Both Jonathan and the Captain realize that there is every chance they will not survive their journey/live beyond their final entry. Jonathan verbalizes the possibility of his death much earlier and more often, but in the end both of them write their final lines with the hope of an outside audience who can learn from their experience and understand why they did what they did. They also both choose to face a likely death. (Jonathan's choice to flee at all costs is maybe closer to the mate's choice to escape into the sea than the captain's decision to stay, but in both cases they hope to preserve their words even after their own death.)

This was the being I was helping to transfer to London, where, perhaps, for centuries to come he might, amongst its teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a new and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the helpless. The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came upon me to rid the world of such a monster. Jonathan, 30 June But I am captain, and I must not leave my ship. [...] ... well, then all men shall know that I have been true to my trust. God and the Blessed Virgin and the saints help a poor ignorant soul trying to do his duty.... Captain, 4 August

Both Jonathan and the Captain act at least partially out of a sense of duty. Jonathan early on is determined to do his duty by Mr. Hawkins; on his final day in the castle, he feels a responsibility to try and stop Dracula from going to London. Sure, it's mixed in with his own hatred and (wild) desire for revenge, but at least part of the reason he attacks Dracula with a shovel is because he doesn't want to be a part of getting him what he wants. He doesn't want to help transfer him to London.

The Captain, ironically, chooses to hold fast to try and transfer his cargo to England. Or at least, he feels loyal to his responsibilities and duties as a captain. He's failed in protecting his crew, and he will probably fail in completing his journey/protecting his ship as well, but he is determined to try his best until the very end. And I think part of this determination is the same kind of refusal to capitulate to Dracula that Jonathan shows on Shovel Day. As readers, we know it would be better if the Captain intentionally scuttled his ship... but from the Captain's perspective, everything that has happened so far has been detrimental to him completing his trip. The storms, the crew being picked off, the fog getting him lost when he nears shore... as far as he knows, it may well seem like the monster on board doesn't want him to reach land. And so his effort to do just that is just as much in stubborn defiance of Dracula's will (as he perceives it) as Jonathan's attempted attack was.

#dracula daily #captain of the demeter #jonathan harker #parallels

[inthewindandinthewater]

If I Could Hold You for a Minute

I’d tell them put me back in it

A/n- Another Remus one shot, I just finished fully listening to Unreal Unearth and my god. I have no words. This just kinda came out and I didn't reread it, so I hope it makes sense.

Warnings: Mentions of injury and death.

He lay still and motionless in his hospital bed as you brushed a damp cloth over his forehead. The full moon hadn’t even come to pass yet and Remus was already very poor. Chills and aches racked his frame and he struggled from class to class until you ushered him away from the walls and into the hospital wind. 

Madam Pomfrey had accepted the both of you quickly and quietly, she assessed the damages, provided him with potions, and you with instructions for his care. You’d done this more than enough times to know how to help him through his transformations, but they had been worse recently. Taking more than their share from the boy who had almost nothing left to give. 

But, if his cup runneth empty, you were always there to pour into it. 

⋆⋆⋆☆✦☆☆✭☆☆✦☆☆✭☆☆✦☆⋆⋆⋆

You met Remus in first year, you sleepwalked horribly. Your parent’s called it an anxious habit, your nervous, shy demeanor running over into a nocturnal form. It had led you to the edge of the grounds one night. You’d been shaken awake by Professor McGonagle, her panicked voice asking you where you’d come from. She’d taken you under her arm and pulled you back into the castle. 

It wasn’t until you were inside that you took stock of your surroundings, on the other side of her being partially carried by Madam Pomfrey was a lanky, sandy haired boy. He was covered in cuts and bruises, and only half conscious. You recognized him after a bit, he was a boy from Gryffindor; and though you didn’t know his name you knew he was in your year, much too young to be in the condition he was in. 

He had been taken to the hospital wing and you had been escorted back to your own dorm room, but you couldn’t sleep. Sick with worry about the boy and wondering what had brought him into such a state. 

The next morning you went to the hospital wing after your classes. That’s where you found him, sleeping soundly in one of the beds closest to the wall. You approached carefully, not wanting to wake him and unsure of just what you were doing there. As you neared the bed the boy began to stir and you froze in place. 

One of his eyes blearily opened to look at you, catching your eye he sighed and closed them again. “Whatever you saw, just forget it, okay?” Your eyebrows knit together and your thoughts screeched to a halt at his words. Forget it? 

“No.” 

That was all you said in return. His eyes opened slowly as he shifted them in your direction, not moving a muscle from his position in the bed. “Pardon?” He replied, “no.” You said simply, “I won’t forget it. You kept me up all night worrying, so you owe me an explanation so I can sleep tonight.” You sat on the edge of his bed, careful not to shift or push him in any way that might cause him more pain.

“Why do you care?” He asks, his face pinched like he smelled something foul. “My mum says I care too much, says it’s in my nature.” You offer with a sympathetic smile. One that says ‘I’m sorry I have to bother you’ instead of ‘I’m sorry your so fucked up’. He appreciated that. 

“I’m Remus.” He said. 

⋆⋆⋆☆✦☆☆✭☆☆✦☆☆✭☆☆✦☆⋆⋆⋆

That’s how the two of you went on for the next five years. You became one of his closest friends, and his crutch to lean on each month. As the other boys started to join you in assisting him, starting with Sirius, then James, and eventually Peter as well, you found that he never needed you less. Someone needed to read to him when he couldn’t hold the book to his eyes, someone had to feed him when he refused to eat. Those were jobs reserved especially for you, branded with your name alone. 

He does his best to be gentle with you in his worst moments, although he doesn't always succeed. You meet him with the same fierce tone and bullheaded stubbornness if he tries to push you away. There was something so comforting in your insistence to stay, he stopped trying to understand it a long time ago. It was easier to revel in the feeling over having someone who wouldn’t leave, even if given every opportunity. 

“You know I love you, right” 

He looked at you so gravely in that moment, like he was willing you to understand how serious he was. You smiled down at him, wrapping the bandage securely around his forearm before resting it in your lap, “of course I do.” His face dropped, his eyes falling to his lap, “good.” He said firmly. “What’s wrong?” You ask, a little knowing smile playing on your face, “Nothing-” He looks up at you then, seeing the small smirk playing upon your features, “nevermind, I take it back you arse” He says with a huff, still allowing his forearm to rest in your lap playing with your finger and tracing the lines of your palms. You take his hand in yours then, “you wouldn’t do that, just like I don’t need to say it back.” He raises his eyebrows at you then, his fingers stilling in yours. “Oh- well I suppose you don’t” he pulls his hand out of yours, but you’re quicker, taking it back in both of yours.

“I tell you all the time. Everything I do for you is because I love you, Remus. Every night I spend here, every bandage I’ve changed and every second I give to you is because I love you. Haven’t you noticed?”

Your voice shakes as you tell him the truth you’ve known for four years now. He just stares at you for a moment, and it’s that moment you’d like to live in, because the next few seconds spelled your demise so clearly. 

Remus leans forward, pressing his lips to yours in a quick fleeting kiss. Your eyes are blown wide when he pulls away, you can’t stop the movement of your body as your lips connect with his again. It’s pure and sweet, it’s exactly what you wanted your first kiss to be. 

⋆⋆⋆☆✦☆☆✭☆☆✦☆☆✭☆☆✦☆⋆⋆⋆

The two years to follow were the happiest of your life, you had amazing friends and the sweetest, most doting boyfriend you could ask for. Remus was always good to you, but after you had started officially dating he only got better. He hadn’t changed much, but all the things you loved about him were amplified. 

When you graduated the war was raging on, it was whiplash. The efervescent sun of your youth burned out into a darkness that showed no mercy. It devoured you friends and everything you loved in an instant. You didn;t know what to believe, or who to trust and it made you feel weak and helpless against the world crumbling underneath your feet. Everything you knew was lost to you. Everything except Remus. 

He wasn’t the same, but neither were you. It would take time and effort to rebuild yourselves into versions of the people you once were. But you were doing it together. In your darkest moment, when you asked him why. Why he even bothered with you? His response was simple: 

“I care too much about you, it’s in my nature.” 

That was your mantra and you pulled one another through the years. The dragging became less of a herculean task and more of a loving embrace as you lived for one another, day by day. Year by year. 

Even now, as you lay next to him one last time, clasping his hand in yours, turning your head to find his face, scarred and torn from years of transformation and the wounds from the battle coming to a close around you. 

You had a good run, your boy and you. Looking into his eyes then you see the little boy from the woods that night, his big brown eyes peering into yours, resigned to fight no longer. He looked back at you, he saw the eyes that looked into his and changed his hold world in one night, in that moment he knew he was content for those eyes to be the last thing he sees; and you knew if anyone asked, was it worth it? Would you do it again if you knew this is where it would bring you? You’d tell them 

“Put me back in it” 

#remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #the marauders #harry potter #hurt #just hurt #I've cried too much today

[furashuban]

Nocturnal

Something a little different this time :>

Words: 2.3k

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53384422/chapters/135113332

Summary: In the middle of the night, a little girl runs up to an old woman wide awake in her bedroom to tell her why she can't go to school.

Carole would always find herself awake in the dead of night whilst everyone else throughout the county had fallen fast asleep. She had no purpose being up so late; she would do nothing but lay upright in bed reading a storybook she had checked out from the Reading Center she managed before clocking out. Sometimes she would change her routine slightly, choosing to be in the living room instead and pace around on the carpet with said book in her hands. If Ryanne were here, she would deplore Carole for not only developing such an unhealthy routine for a woman her age, but failing to desire a solution to fix it while she still could.

The door to her room was wide open; all the lights in the hallway were still turned on and gave a white-range hue to the bedroom. Carole could sense a shadow, and she looked up to see a little girl in baby blue pajamas inching towards her doorway; her long and wavy brown hair in disarray and her head hung slightly low as she stared back at the woman in bed.

“Frankie,” she called the girl’s name gently and soft with affection. “Can’t sleep?”

The 10-year-old nodded shyly, to which Carole then put aside her book and opened her arms to show her she was invited in. Frankie rushed to climb in bed and quickly cozied up beside the woman before being wrapped around her arm. “What time is it now, Carole?”

“Ah, don’t worry about that,” Carole consoled, combing her fingers through the young girl’s unkempt hair, “you’ll still have plenty of time to catch some rest before school tomorrow.”

Hearing the words school and tomorrow next to each other gave Frankie a sinking feeling in her chest. “Carole…?” she raised her head up, her tone solemn.

“Yes?”

The girl took a second before saying anything, hesitant about what words to use and if it was either a good time to say them or even a good idea at all. But Carole had always taught her to be unafraid of pouring her heart out to her, or to anyone for that matter, even if they were strange for others to hear—she had a right to be heard anyway, to figure everything out with the help of others in the county along the way with gentleness and understanding.

“I can’t go to school tomorrow,” confessed Frankie, “I don’t feel very good, so I don’t think I can go to any of my classes because of it.”

Carole placed her palm on Frankie’s forehead, then on the side of her neck. “Hm, but you seem to be pretty healthy,” she gave the girl a curious look.

“It’s not that,” Frankie sighed. “There’s a quiz tomorrow that I’m not ready for, then a project that I’m having trouble finishing but it’s due the day AFTER the quiz, then another quiz after that, and I keep reading books I don’t actually want to read and I just don’t want to be in school at all ‘cause I get so jumpy the longer I stay there! I’m trying really hard, I really am, Carole, but…but…”

When Frankie struggled to say another word, remembering all the other arduous schoolwork in store for her this week, Carole leaned a little closer to tuck a section of her hair behind her ear so that her face was a little less cloaked. “It’s just unfair how they’re giving too many things without time to rest, isn’t it.”

“Yeah…” all the weight in Frankie’s heart seemed to have left in an instant, to have someone older than her understand her so well that they could put her difficult feelings into proper words meant the whole world to her.

“Poor ol’ Frances Schwinn,” Carole said sweetly. “I guess it doesn’t hurt to skip one day of school if you really can’t go.”

“You really mean it?” and for the first time tonight, if not in a long time, Frankie’s eyes lit up with hope, though an air of cautiousness lingered in the back of her mind. There was no way Carole could reasonably allow her to skip classes when she had so much to do.

“Don’t worry, the people that run the school and I know each other, I can convince them to let you find other days to do your schoolwork…Well, more like I can get Ryanne to do it with me first,” Carole snickered; Ryanne had the upper hand when it came to being confrontational, given her position as a council member, and never once did this enigmatic woman say no to doing a favor for Carole, much to her reluctance until she knew it was for Frankie’s sake. “But I promise, sunbeam, nothing more needs to be said. Girls like you need some time to let loose, especially when you’ve been giving it your best for who knows how long. The only thing missing, of course, is someone who recognizes that.”

Frankie threw her arms around Carole immediately. “Thanks so much, Carole,” she rejoiced, trying not to sound too exultant against her ear, but Carole could tell she was the happiest girl in the world because Frankie’s joy was her joy, too, and she wrapped her arms back around the girl.

“It’s no trouble, dearie.”

As soon as the Frankie withdrew from her embrace, she could have sworn the air around the room was suddenly frostier than before, like she was atop Mount Everest—not that she had ever been before. “Your room is really cold,” Frankie quivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

“That’s because my house is right by the sea,” Carole also couldn’t help but pull the blanket closer, “I could go for a cup of cocoa in times like this.”

At that, Carole could feel an imaginary lightbulb spark atop her head. “Hm, what do you say to that? I can whip us both a cup or two in the kitchen really quick.” Frankie pursed her lips before simply nodding in agreement. “That’s the spirit.”

Before long, the gray-haired woman and the little girl practically leapt out of bed and ambled onto the small hallway yonder. “Can I turn on your record player while you’re making the cocoa?” Frankie requested, knowing the two of them were going to be up a lot longer than she had expected.

The record player in the living room was Frankie’s favorite thing in Carole’s house. It was fairly modern than most other phonographs, simply a wooden box resting atop a pedestal as tall as the girl herself, but thankfully it was close enough to the sofa where she could mount herself by the armrest and gently place a down record without any trouble nor help from Carole. Frankie liked being able to switch it on herself once the older woman had taught her how to use it. But first, she browsed through the crammed shelves that took up a whole corner of Carole’s living room, which were towering so close to the ceiling that Frankie needed a stool to stand on as she flipped through the dedicated cubicle for vinyl covers which was still so high above.

In the kitchen, Carole had her and Frankie’s mugs settled on the countertop right after she stopped the kettle on the stovetop from shrieking and puffing. She could hear Frankie humming a tune around the corner; a tune, the older woman recognized, as being from the record the little girl had picked out and was setting atop the record player. With the flick of switch and the touch of a needle on a rotating record (in that order), the house became filled with the fuzzy, homely melody of a piano and a man’s high-note singing that mimicked the tune Frankie was humming.

“If I knew that someone cared for me, I'd let the world go by.”

“Someone who was truer as true could be, I’d never want to sigh.”

The cocoa mix and hot milk were stirred well in each mug, and Carole carried them over to the living room where she found Frankie cuddled up on the sofa with a Raggedy Ann doll she had left there this morning—which she named “Rosie”. The 10-year-old awaited her hot cocoa whilst trying not to look too eager as she was being offered her mug, appearing stiff in the way she sat up and especially in her expression, which made Carole giggle.

“Thanks for this, Carole,” the girl then took a slight sip of cocoa, still too steamy and scorching for her to handle.

The gray-haired woman took a seat on her rocking chair across the room. “It’s hasn’t been an hour, but I hope you’re feeling a little better now than before, sunbeam.”

Frankie took a moment to concentrate on the gentle music in the room, the velvety taste of her cocoa along with its heat to bear the cold sea-air breaching into the house, Rosie limp on her lap and all the quaint decorations she could eye on around the house such as a mandolin hung on one wall and pots of ivy hung on another—and lastly, Carole Paxson giving her undivided attention to her long unheeded well-being. Nothing here could remotely remind her of quizzes and projects. She grinned softly, let out a small breath, and murmured to Carole, “Yeah, so much better.”

There was a large chest in the center of the living room which was used as the coffee table, draped with a dark red cloth and ornamented with a completed jigsaw puzzle of a Monet painting, a trio of candle stands and a little Bonsai tree on top of it. Carole squinted as she noticed among the decorations a lone book with a sky-blue cover; a copy of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis.

“I don’t remember leaving this here.” Carole remarked as she reached for the book.

“That’s mine,” Frankie pointed out. “Well, it’s Maddie’s, but she said I could borrow it. I haven’t been able to continue reading because of school, though.”

Carole opened the book to its first page. Sure enough, on the upper right of the foreword read “MJH’s book” written tinnily in pencil along with a neatly drawn star next to it. Maddeline Jean Hewitt, Carole instantly recognized what the initials stood for, sparking a new how-to-make-Frankie-feel-better plan upon seeing.

“You know, you can spend the rest of the day tomorrow at the Hewitts’ if you’d like that, sunbeam,” the older woman spoke in an uplifting tone. “I’m sure Maddie would be just as happy knowing you now have time to play together.” Maddie was a homeschooled girl, and coming to see her meant Frankie did not have to feel alone and awkward about not being in school while every other child was.

“Is…that a good idea?” Frankie asked. “It kind of feels wrong to skip school just so I could play with my friend.”

“Sure, it’s fine,” Carole insisted. “It’s like I said, you deserve to let loose, dearie, and that means making the most out of time you didn’t have before, not just having plain ol’ rest. Plus, time at the Hewitts sounds much comfier than time at school if you ask me.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess maybe I will see Maddie tomorrow,” Frankie shrugged tautly; even when she wasn’t sure about going, she knew seeing Maddie at her family’s big brick house at Sandalwood always lit her up, and it had been so long since both girls saw each other.

When Frankie took another sip of cocoa, she drew her attention to the wall clock just above Carole’s chair, and the young girl gawked in disbelief seeing that the hour hand was at 2. Being up so late, while thrilling, was just unheard of, if not strictly forbidden for children like her. And though Frankie was only partly sleepy in this hour, she realized how Carole never seemed to look tired at all since they first saw each other in the bedroom.

“Carole? What time do you sleep?”

“Hmm…Three …Maybe four o’clock-ish?”

“But why though?”

The old woman also sipped on her cocoa before speaking; the steam fogging up her thin-rimmed glasses. Truthfully, she was not a hundred-percent sure how to answer the curious child across her, only thinking about her usual routine to remotely give any good reason for staying up so late. “If I’m gonna be honest, Frankie,” she smacked her lips, “I think it’s ‘cause I just really like reading books,” and the two girls snickered, it was hard to argue knowing how long a good book can really take to finish.

“In fact, now that you don’t have your quizzes to worry about anymore,” Carole held up the copy of the Narnia book, “how’s about you finally get around to continuing this one, together with me?”

“Hmm…okay!” Frankie’s heart soared; a book she wanted to read at long last. She reached for the record player to lower the volume a tad, that way she could hear the older woman read whilst the music she loved carried on at the same time.

The moment Carole flipped through the page the bookmark reserved, the man’s voice from the record player, while much fainter now, was already singing the final chorus of the song.

“Let the great big world keep turning, never mind if I’ve got you”

“For I only know that I want you so, and there’s no one else will do.”

“You have simply set me yearning, and forever I’ll be true.”

Frankie took a break from drinking her cocoa when she realized it was still too hot, setting it aside on the coffee-table-chest. She hugged onto Rosie and laid herself down comfortably on her side, and she listened to Carole recite the passages of her book with great sincerity and fervor as though she had really gone to Narnia, and the 4 siblings of the book were really in the room.

“Let the great big world keep on turning ‘round, now I’ve found someone like you.”

#original story #original character #ocs #self-inserts #my works #it takes a village #itav #carole paxson #frances schwinn #this will definitely be something i will expand on only once in a while #and isn't something i have high priority as with C&A #but this fics purpose was being a source of comfort to write for a short time and hoping that feeling is the same for anyone reading <3

[claudeng80]

Caught (Childhood Friends/Pokemon AU)

The sun is just coming up, the castle spires of Tanbarun casting long shadows across the river. Nanaki yawns, because it was not his idea to be up this early, but Cubone has enough energy for the both of them. He chases Oddish in circles, over and under a fallen log in a game Nanaki is far too sleepy to make sense of.

There’s a flat spot on the log just big enough for him, and there’s plenty of time for a nap- 

“Are you going to help me or not?” The princess is too buried in a plant to put her hands on her hips, but the position is implied in the tone. He's heard it more than enough, before and after he left home, to mistake it for any other.

“You said I didn’t have to dig in the dirt, but you didn’t tell me what to do,” he says. “Guess that means I get to take a nap…” He pretends to close his eyes, watching her through his lashes as she wriggles back out of the bush.

“Please!” It’s not often she begs for help, and it startles his eyes right back open, gold meeting green for just a second before her gaze skitters away. He gets a great view of the stick tangled in her hair, more dirt than red at the moment, and Shirayuki points up into a tree. “The fruit. Up there. I need some for this recipe.”

“Potions aren’t that expensive at the store. I don’t see why you don’t like them.”

“It’s not that I don’t like them-” She avoids his eyes again. “It’s just good to have options and save money for emergencies. And maybe if I keep studying, I can make something even better-”

“Like a max-potion?”

“Nanaki…” He tries not to grin, but she is too cute when she whines. “Will you get me the fruit already?”

The tree’s barely even a challenge. He swings up to the first branch, easy as climbing stairs, and sticks the first one he can reach into his pocket. “You could have just climbed up here yourself. You’re taller than you were when you got here.”

Her voice is a little muffled as she dives back into her plant, looking for something underground. “Um, I don’t know how to climb trees.”

***

The night is quiet, not even the rustle of a leaf breaking the stillness. Obi adjusts the scarf around his face and watches the light from the fire die down to nothing. If the redheaded girl doesn’t get her gym badge, she’s going to stay here when the others move on. She’s stubborn; nobody who makes it this far isn’t.

But without her pokemon, there won’t be much she can do.

The prince, the source of all the problems, sleeps closest to the fire. He’s got a sword laid across the grass at his fingertips; it would bring a pretty penny too, if Obi had enough hands for it. But he’s here for a particular job, and sum he’s owed for it will cover that and more.

The older grass-haired boy and the blonde girl don’t twitch as Obi sneaks past them. The noble who hired him insisted they were guards, keeping harm from coming to the prince, but so far he’s not very impressed with their vigilance. He can’t resist a little dance step, right there in the middle of their camp, and nobody is awake to notice.

Immediately he feels a bit silly. He should get this over with and get out of here. He’ll drop off her pokemon at some center where she’ll never think to look. They’ll be taken care of, then either get adopted or released, whatever’s best for them. Nobody’s going to get hurt and he’s going to be rich.

The girl might have gone to sleep holding the strap of her bag, but her hand’s drifted away to the edge of her blanket. He just needs to support the bag so the balls don’t rattle and that will be that, she can’t possibly go on without any of her companions. Silently he pulls on the strap to slide the bag away from her grip, then gently starts to lift it from the grass-

“ODD!” Beyond the first circle of light, a tiny patch of leaves waggles in alarm. He’s been careless not to check, because of course the four of them could only sleep with a nocturnal pokemon left on night watch.

Her eyes fly open with alarm, and he has to wonder if her Oddish hit him with a Charm without him noticing. Surely he would have known all along if it were her. If he’d known-

No, he doesn’t lie to himself. perhaps he suspected all along, but hunger is a powerful persuasion. He could never forget her. But he has to eat. He tightens his hand on the strap and yanks the whole bag up, no longer worrying about the noise. With Oddish shouting its leaves off, all he has left in his favor is their confusion. He’s got to run for it.

“Wait!” she shouts and flails, missing his fleeing heels by a mile. She never was fast, trailing along behind him. She’d get there long after he did, but she never gave up. It doesn’t help her here. “Oddish! Use Sweet Scent!”

He was always much better at the catching than at the training, himself. He’s still several steps from the cover of the forest before there’s a giant blow to his back, sending him tumbling into the leaves. Pokeballs fly everywhere.

Down in the leaves, Obi’s held down, then forcibly flipped. He’s outnumbered, there’s no getting around that, and they’re far better prepared than he was counting on. He lets himself go limp, and a hand tears off his scarf. A pale face snarls down at him, the prince too eager to let his guards do his dirty work. “Who are you?”

Obi doesn’t answer right away. He watches Shirayuki’s face, waiting for the moment she realizes what depths he’s sunk to, how her childhood friend she’d looked up to once is a fraud at heart. But she looks at him with no more than curiosity, and he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that a few inches of height and a few years of hunger are enough to make him someone new. Apparently never intending to quit lasted her no longer than it did him.

Or perhaps he never meant as much to her as she did to him. “Nobody important,” he says, forcing a grin onto his face.

#obiyukibingo23 #fanfic #childhood friends au

[aidtale-of]

Aidtale: Origins-Chapter 5

The same morning begins down in the Underground. Papyrus knocks on Sans’s door, calling to him.

“Sans? Sans, are you awake?”

No answer. Papyrus knocks until he’s sure Sans has woken.

“Sans!”

“What?” Sans grumbles, rolling over in bed, glancing at his clock and noting that it’s only 6 am.

“Sans, you have to get ready right now.”

“Why? It’s barely morning.”

“Because we have to be the first ones there. I heard from tv that some humans are nocturnal, so one probably fell at night. Plus, I’ve got some new puzzles I want to try out!”

Sans sits up in bed. “Alright, I’ll be out in a few.”

“Great!”

Footsteps recede from Sans’s door, followed by a door closing. Sans grabs his jacket, slips on his shoes then goes to head downstairs. He holds his foot out over the first stair, then teleports into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of ketchup from his side, ignoring the sense of deja vu. He puts it in his pocket and goes to sit on his couch, but notices that the front door is slightly open, and there’s a stack of papers on the table. Dirt and snow have been tracked into the house by something. Sans grabs the papers and closes the door, thinking that this must be a note from Papyrus. Immediately, he realizes that this is not his brother’s handwriting. What’s more, the papers detail horrific events that are seemingly written as if they were memories, not guesses. Sans sits on the couch as he reads, not sure how these papers got here or who they were written by. But it must be someone who would know, right?

“What are you reading?” Papyrus sprinkles sprinkles on the pet rock.

“I think I just got a death threat.”

“What!? That’s absurd!! Who’s it from?”

“No clue.” Sans sets the papers on the couch. “But if their fighting’s as bad as their writing, I don’t think I have much to worry about.”

“Hmmm. Well, you should still be careful. Have you eaten?”

“Yep.”

“Great! Let’s go!”

They leave their home. As Sans goes to lock the door, Papyrus pats his non-existent pockets.

“Oops! I forgot something!” Papyrus runs back into the house, leaving Sans outside to wait.

…

It takes a while. Sans goes to check on him, but Papyrus does come back out, carrying a box of bones and quieter than usual.

“Let’s go.”

They walk through Snowdin with people saying their hellos as they go. Sans says hello back, but Papyrus is too lost in thought to respond. They make their way silently through the forest. As they walk, Sans notices that Papyrus isn’t as cheerful as he was earlier.

“Hey bro, you doin’ ok?”

“...Sans, can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Shoot.”

“..If..if you knew something bad was going to happen…would you do something about it?”

Sans looks at his brother, rattled. “What do you mean?”

“...If something, let’s say a human, were to arrive, and they turned out to be a…not so great person…would you try to help them?”

The snow crunches under their feet as Sans takes a moment to think. “Well, the way I see it, if this not-so-great human turns out to be a jerk, then it’s probably best not to get involved with them.”

“But what if the human just needs some help? Hypothetically, of course.”

“If they need help, then someone will help them.”

“Would you?”

“I don’t think I’m really qualified for that.”

“Of course you don’t.” They reach Sans’s sentry station. “Ok, well, don’t forget to-”

“Recalibrate my puzzles?”

“Yes! Exactly! We don’t need anything failing when the human arrives!” Papyrus starts to walk away.

“You mean if the human arrives?”

“That’s what I said!” Papyrus disappears down the path. Once he’s far enough away, Sans sits at his post, pulling a hot dog from underneath. As he eats, he gets a notification on his phone.

“You’ve seen that before.”

Sans looks down and sees Flowey at the base of his station. He continues, “It’s from Alphys. It’s about your timeline research. You don’t have to read that.”

Sans looks at the phone anyways. It is from Alphys.

“Huh, so you must be the one with the bad handwriting, though, I guess it would be hard to write without hands.” Sans scratches his head. “Funny, the papers mentioned something about a..code? I dunno. Couldn’t read it too well.”

Flowey’s face clouds. “I’m not saying that again. You already know what it is, so I shouldn’t have to! Besides, it’s stupid and dumb, kinda like you.”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t know if you have the right one unless you said it. Could be fake, y’know.”

Flowey scowls at him. He gathers some snow into a ball. “...I’m a stupid doodoo butt.”

“HA-” The snowball is immediately thrown at Sans’s face, shutting him up. Sans wipes the snow off of his face as Flowey explains the plan.

“There’s an area, just before the color maze. That’s where we’ll attack.”

“An ambush, huh? That..sounds familiar, actually. If we tried that before, then maybe we should try something else this time.”

“It didn’t work because you weren’t trying.”

“Well, maybe I had a reason-”

“No! You had no reason! You knew exactly what was going on and still chose to do barely anything!” Flowey turns to leave. “You’d better actually try this time, or I’ll just have to take things into my own hands.” Flowey disappears into the snow. Sans’s phone gets another notification. He takes a look.

“Hey Sans, I need you to look at this.”

There’s a photo accompanied by some text.

“I was checking on some things regarding their research, and all of this just appeared out of nowhere.”

The picture is one of her computer screen. There are diverting lines going all over the place.

“ My theory is that there’s something powerful enough to simply stop time and restart everything.”

Sans texts back, “hmmm. that’s interesting”

He puts his phone away and takes a nap, waking up later to the sound of the door to the ruins closing. Sans takes a look, but can’t make out the person that just walked out, so he teleports closer. Taking a closer look, he sees it’s a human, just like Flowey said. Sans gives the same introduction and they go through the same old routine, telling the human to keep pretending to be one, then teleporting away. The day goes about as well as one could expect with trying to get a murderous child to participate in puzzles and japes. Eventually, Flowey pulls Sans aside.

“This part of the forest, this is our opportunity.”

“You sure this will work?”

“As long as you do what I say, it should.”

Snow crunches nearby, catching both of their attention. The human has arrived. Sans notices that they don’t seem particularly surprised, which is probably because this has happened at least once before. He suddenly gets a bad feeling about this entire situation, not from the human, but from Flowey. He takes a step away from him and turns to the human.

“Heya. Fancy seeing you here.” Sans takes a breath. “Look, it’s a nice day today, and you seem..about child age, so maybe, instead of doing what you’re doing, you could make some friends. Maybe get some ice cream, or just enjoy the view. The kids around here might want to include you in their games. Who knows, maybe you might even start to like puzzles.” Sans walks away, much to Flowey’s and the human’s confusion. Flowey follows him.

“Um, excuse me!? What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

Sans doesn’t answer. Instead, he continues to walk. Flowey grabs Sans’s arm with a vine.

“HEY! What are you doing!?”

Sans pulls away, snapping the vine in half. “Quit it. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Yeah, of course you do. That human has-”

“I’m talking about you.” Sans stares down at Flowey, his eyes dark. “What exactly happened last time?”

. . .

Sans looks at his arm, the vine dangling off of it. He looks back at Flowey, who looks like he’s deliberately not mentioning something. Sans pulls the vine off, the thorns tearing his sleeve. “Actually, don’t bother.” He throws the vine to Flowey. “I don’t care anymore.” With that, Sans walks away, leaving Flowey, seething.

“Fine, I’ll just have to do everything myself.”

Sans takes a look back and barely manages to dodge a vine attack.

The vine reels back. “If you won’t help me take the human’s soul,” attacks ready around Flowey, “then I’ll use your LV to get it myself.”

Vines and bullets rise all around Flowey, gunning for Sans. Sans teleports and dodges where he can. Flowey grows in size as the fight goes on, his expression turning more and more deranged. Sans throws his own attacks at the flower. Blasters, bones, and bullets fill the air. The fight tears up terrain and throws snow everywhere. Sans tires, but tries not to slow down. But before he could prepare another attack, 

“Sans? Flowey?” From behind, Papyrus had stumbled onto the scene. Sans turns, letting his guard down for just a moment. Flowey uses this distraction to pin Sans by the throat into the snow. Attacks appear all around him. Flowey’s about to kill him when Papyrus steps in the way, blocking the attacks with bones.

“Papyrus, move.” Flowey’s voice is torn and distorted. 

“Why are you doing this to him? What happened?”

“None of your business, now gET OUTTA MY WAY!” Flowey shoves Papyrus away. He goes to attack, but Papyrus blocks again, stepping in the way. 

“STOP IT!”

“No! I’m sorry, Flowey, but I can’t let you do this! I don’t know what happened, but…” Papyrus’s voice trails off as he looks at something in the distance. Flowey looks, and is shocked to see the human standing there. So shocked, in fact, that he retracts all of his vines and attacks, shrinking back down to his original size.

“Chara! H-how long have you been there?”

The human stares blankly at the flower, furious. He’s doing it again. Taking what’s rightfully mine. Getting in my way. They pull on their tough gloves.

“H-hey hey hey wait! I-I didn’t mean what I was doing!” Flowey tries to reason with them while Papyrus helps pull the vines off of Sans. “It was all a trick! I was going to kill him with you!”

“Are you alright?” Papyrus pulls the last vine off of Sans.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Sans groans.

“What’s going on here?”

Before Sans could answer, the sound of dust comes from near the human. The skeletons look over and see that, alarmingly, the human has easily managed to kill the flower. The human looks over at them, and Sans teleports him and his brother away. 

They end up in Snowdin town, somewhere among the trees. The two sit for a moment, shocked and silent.

“...That’s why they're covered in dust.” Papyrus takes the papers Sans left on the couch that morning out from his glove. “These papers were right. Flowey was right. Everyone’s going to die.”

Silence fills the air once more. Sans facepalms.

“Ah, shit. You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Why?”

“Honestly,” Sans leans back into the snow, “Didn’t think it would matter. Thought that once everything was said and done, we wouldn’t even remember there being a human in the first place.”

“Why wouldn’t I remember a human in the Underground?”

Before Sans can answer his question, his phone rings. Alphys is calling. He looks at Papyrus, then answers the phone, walking a few feet away, still in the trees.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Sans? I-i was watching what was happening. Where did you two go?”

“We’re fine. We landed in Snowdin.”

As Sans talks on the phone, Papyrus hears a crunch in the snow. Taking a peek through the trees, he sees the human searching for monsters, then entering the librarby. He looks back to Sans, who is distracted talking to Alphys. Papyrus takes a deep breath, then goes to follow them. The human walks back out, turning to face Papyrus. 

“O-ok. Well, just m-make sure that you and Papyrus get out alright.”

“Don’t worry, we will.” Sans hangs up the phone. “Ok Pap, we’re…” Sans turns back to where Papyrus was, only to not find him there. He looks around before noticing his footprints in the snow. He follows the prints, then the sound of his brother’s voice, before finding him confronting the human. The human approaches rather quickly and reels back to throw a punch, but they are shoved backwards, as if gravity had shifted. Behind Papyrus stands Sans. The human gets up, making Sans realize that he doesn’t wanna take this fight, not now. He teleports him and Papyrus to the lab.

“You ok?”

Papyrus clutches his chest and slides down to the floor, his soul glowing lightly. “That..that was…I thought they..were going to…”

“..Yeah, well, maybe it’s best you don’t face the human alone. They’re stronger than we ever could’ve imagined.”

“Sans? Papyrus? Is that you?” Alphys calls out from the other side of the room.

“Yeah. Heya.”

“Hi..Alphys?”

Alphys waves shyly to Papyrus. “Hi.” She turns to Sans. “Are you two ok?”

Sans walks up to her. “Yeah. We’re fine. Whatcha up to?”

“I, uh..I came up with a plan.”

“K. What is it?”

“Uh, well, I-I called..well, I didn’t call her, Mettaton did, b-but we called Undyne a-and told her what’s going on. So she’s going to help evacuate Waterfall and maybe, hopefully stop the human.” Sans looks over to Papyrus, who appears lost in thought. “And if..if she…if she can’t..then-”

“Then you’re supposed to call Asgore and tell him to absorb the human souls.”

“Y-yeah. How did you know that?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not going to work. He won’t do it.”

“...Well, e-even if you think that, we..we have to have some sort of hope. Someone has to stop the human.”

“…Where will the escaped monsters go?”

“Well, we could take them to less populated areas, or harder to access places. I-if we really need to, we could take them to places that have already been affected, considering that it’s unlikely the human would look there again.”

“Alright. I’ll go move some monsters in Waterfall.”

Papyrus jumps up. “You’re going alone??”

“I’m not entirely alone. There are still monsters in Waterfall. That’s why I’m going.”

“No! You just said that I shouldn’t face the human alone. Why should you?”

“I’m not looking for the human. I’m not even going to be anywhere near them, so I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not going alone. That’s how people in movies die! I’ll go with you.”

“No.”

“You said it yourself! The human is strong and unstable!”

“I never said ‘unstable’.”

“That’s not the point, Sans! You shouldn’t go alone!”

“And you shouldn’t have to face them. You’re staying here, where you’ll be ok. I’m going to make sure that others are ok, then I’ll be right back. No one’s getting hurt.”

“Sans-” Sans teleports away before Papyrus can say anything in protest.

“Y-y’know,” Alphys says meekly from her computer, “It’s not so bad here. M-maybe you’ll like it.”

Papyrus sighs. “I just wish he would let me help sometimes.”

“Well, you do seem to have a habit of rushing into things, s-so maybe it probably would be better if you stayed here, at least for now.”

“I can’t just sit around and do nothing!”

“I’m sure you can figure out something. Who knows, maybe Mettaton might come by and-”

Papyrus perks up. “Mettaton comes here!?”

Meanwhile, in Waterfall, Sans is helping monsters leave, thinking to himself and avoiding the human when he sees them. 

Weird. Flowey knew everything that was going to happen, and he was still willing to kill us. Ah, I should’ve expected that, I guess. Like he’s ever done anything good for us. He does seem to like Papyrus, though. Maybe that’s why he told me? To potentially save him? …No. Then he woulda asked him, not me, for help. That plan was pretty scuffed. …Though, this kid is pretty determined. Nothing seems to stop them. Maybe Flowey was onto something with the whole “taking their soul for good” thing. Would never have trusted him with it, of course, but if someone doesn’t do it, won’t we just stay in this cycle? Am I willing to do it? Everything’s gonna reset either way. In that case, what’s the point of doing anything right now? Everyone that’s dead will just come back. Eh, dying right now still doesn’t sound like the nicest thing. Everyone that’s able to get out is lucky to never have to know what that feels like. Including Papyrus…huh. Actually, the one thing that didn’t give off deja vu today was when I saved him. Was that new? Am I doing something right? If that’s the case, would the human do something different too? That’s what they wanted, right? Something to change? Maybe they really are beyond help.

Sans is unable to find anyone else, so he heads back to the lab. He walks in and sees Alphys and Papyrus staring at the screen.

“Oh, Sans! Have you got everyone?”

“Got as many as I could.” Sans takes a look at the screen. Papyrus explains what’s going on.

“Undyne’s fighting the human. She got hit, but she bounced right back! I think she has a real shot at this!”

“Heh, maybe.” Sans takes a closer look at the screen. Something seems..off about Undyne. Like she’s melting, but slowly. Sans shakes his head and heads towards the elevator. “Welp, I’m going to check on…,” He looks at Papyrus, “..the downstairs.”

Alphys looks at him, confused. “What? The downstairs? W-what do you mean?”

“Y’know, the ones that always stick together? Them.”

“Ah, right.”

“Why do I have the horrible feeling you just told a pun?” Papyrus grumbles as Sans chuckles. He rides the elevator down to the true lab. Sans brings out some food for the amalgamates down there. He goes to buy a candy bar for himself, but there’s only one kind left. He gets it anyway when two of the amalgamates rush him for it. He throws it in the opposite direction and they chase after it. Sans sighs, then goes back to the elevator. He hears crying as he exits the elevator. Sans looks and sees Alphys sobbing with Mettaton comforting her. Looking at the computer screen, Sans can see dust mixed with a goopy substance that resembles the amalgamates. Monsters can produce determination?

“That’s Undyne. She…wasn’t strong enough.” Mettaton notices Sans staring at the screen. Turning around, Sans sees Papyrus, silently watching the screen in shock, streams of tears running down his face. A thought crosses his mind, so Sans flips through the camera feed. He finds what he was looking for. The human, approaching Hotland.

“We gotta get outta here.”

Alphys looks up, seeing the camera feed. She’s too shocked to react. Mettaton turns to her.

“I’ll distract them, darling. But you need to go.”

Sans turns to Mettaton. “You sure?”

“Alone?” Papyrus pipes up from behind.

“Yes, I’m sure. I may be the Underground’s best and only star,” he boasts, then turns to Alphys, “but you are their best and only Alphys,” he turns to Papyrus, “and I’m sure your brother needs you. Neither of you want to be caught by the human.” 

Sans looks back at the camera feed. “Uh, they’re getting close.” He turns to Alphys and Papyrus. “Are we going or not?”

“...Y-yeah. Let’s go.”

“Yes.”

“Alrighty then. PLACES PEOPLE!” Mettaton goes to the middle of the room as Sans, Alphys, and Papyrus head for the exit. Before they leave, Alphys turns to Mettaton. He gives her a thumbs up.

“Don’t worry Alphy. I’ll be fine.”

“Mettaton, I-”

The door on the other side opens. Sans teleports the three of them away. Mettaton watches the spot that they were, content, then turns to the human.

“Oh, there you are.”

The three of them land in one of Sans’s Hotland sentry stations. They take a seat, Sans sitting in his chair, Papyrus and Alphys sitting on the ground.

“I’m not stupid. I know I’ll never see him again. I failed him, just like I failed Undyne and everyone else!” She buries her head in her arms, sobbing. Sans leans back in his chair, sighing.

“Did you try?” Papyrus asks Alphys. She looks at him, confused.

“Y-yeah. Of course I tried. I tried as hard as I could.”

“Then it’s not your fault. After all, you’re not the one who…you’re not the one who killed everyone. And not everyone’s dead! Everyone in Hotland is alive so far, and all the people that evacuated. I..I know it’s awful, what the human is doing, but it does not mean that you failed. You are very great, and I’m sure that if you continue to try as you have, you can achieve great things, despite whatever setbacks come your way.”

Alphys wipes her tears and the three sit in silence for a moment.

“So..so what do we do now?”

Sans sighs, “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. I think our best bet is to let Asgore do his thing with the human souls. See what he can do, if he will.”

“Right! Asgore! I was meant to call him about that!!” Alphys pulls out her phone and starts to call him.

Sans stands. “Cool. I’m gonna keep an eye on that human. Maybe help where I can.”

“Sans.” Sans turns to face Papyrus. “I think you already know what I’m about to say.”

Before Sans can say anything, Alphys pipes up. “He’s right. It would probably be better if you had some help to get people out faster. Plus, s-safety in numbers, y’know.”

Sans looks at Papyrus. “..Alright. Stay close though.”

“Absolutely!” Papyrus joins his brother’s side. Sans turns back to Alphys.

“You gonna be ok out here?”

“Y-yeah. There’s all s-sorts of secret routes back to the lab.”

“Ok. Be careful.”

“I will. Good luck.”

Sans teleports them away. Throughout Hotland and the Core, Sans and Papyrus watch the human slaughter monsters that haven’t evacuated yet, growing stronger and stronger. After a while, they see the human entering New Home. Sans takes out his phone and calls Alphys.

“Sans?”

“Hey, has Asgore done the thing yet?”

“No, he hasn’t. H-he won’t.”

“I told you he wouldn’t.”

“I-it’s not just that. He thinks he can talk to the human.”

Sans pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of course. Do you think you can convince him to do it?”

“I-I can’t! There’s not enough time!”

Sans looks at Papyrus, who appears a little lost in thought.

“I have an idea.” He hangs up. Sans approaches his brother, but before he could say what he wanted to…

“Sans, did you see the human being kind to anyone, even a little bit?”

Sans is a bit taken aback. “..No. The human doesn’t care about anyone.”

. . .

“Do you still want to help them?”

Papyrus sighs. “I’d very much like to, though, I’m afraid that they might not listen and try to attack me again.”

. . .

“I have an idea.” Sans teleports the two of them into the Judgement hall. 

“What are we doing here?”

“We’re, uh, gonna fight ‘em. If we’re lucky, we could get the human’s soul. And if not, well, we won’t even remember trying.”

“I don’t want to kill them! I know they’ve made some..morally incorrect decisions, but they are still capable of change! Everyone can be a good person, if they just try!”

“Look, Paps, I get that. Really. But some people just..need to be stopped. You read what Flowey wrote. The human’s done this hundreds of times, and they don’t seem to be stopping on their own anytime soon.”

“I..I just don’t know.”

Sans sighs. “It’s ok. You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to. When the human falls, their soul’s gonna be visible for a few moments. I just need you to grab it and absorb it.”

“What will happen when I do?”

“Well, hopefully, you should be able to reset everything and bring everyone back.”

“Even the human?”

“..Not sure. Maybe.”

Papyrus thinks for a moment. “Ok, I will. I’ll even try to fight, as long as I can bring everyone back.”

A sound at the end of the hall alerts the two to the human’s presence. As the human approached, Papyrus could feel a tingle crawling up his spine. Fear? Makes sense, but I should be fine. Right?

Sans steps ahead, causing the human to stop. “Heya. You’ve been busy, huh?”

The human doesn’t answer.

“Heheheh, of course you have. So, I’ve got a question for you….why? Why have you seemingly returned here again and again, only to kill us all over? Do you really hate us that much?”

The human takes a step forward. Sans sighs.

“Well, it seems like this is the end, so let’s get this over with.” Sans turns to Papyrus. “You ready?” Papyrus nods. Sans turns back to the human and they start to fight. To Papyrus’s surprise, Sans is much better at this than he ever could’ve imagined. Once the initial shock has passed, Papyrus starts to help Sans in the fight. Eventually, the human does die, their soul lingering. Papyrus goes to grab it, but it disappears much faster than he expected.

“Ah, don’t worry. We’ll try again next time.”

A sound at the end of the hall alerts the two to the human’s presence.

Next---https://www.tumblr.com/ask-aidtale/723938291639025664/aidtale-origins-chapter-6?source=share

Previous---https://www.tumblr.com/ask-aidtale/723938110179803136/aidtale-origins-chapter-4?source=share

#ask aidtale #undertale au #undertale #writing #chrono

[seawitch62]

Dreams are they the manifestations of our subconscious or something else?

Word count 763

Yandere

         Night terrors.

♟Never trust a demon. He has a hundred motives for anything he does ... Ninety-nine of them, at least, are malevolent.

Neil Gaiman, Preludes & Nocturnes (The Sandman, #1)♟

                      💀

Run! Run! Run! My legs feel like bricks, they won't move. Pure terror surges through my body, I can not move. It's getting closer and closer, I can sense it, feel it, the invisible terror stalking me, all I can see are those eyes! Eyes that scare the hell out of me. My ankle! My foot! Someone or something, their hands or claw like hands are  wrapped around my ankle, shake it off! no matter how I try I can escape. The grip is like steel pulling me closer to the eyes….

Waking up in a pool of sweat, that dream or nightmare felt so real it was terrifying, "it's just a dream" calm yourself. Sliding out of bed, feet touching the floor, a pain shoots up my leg. "What the" inspecting my leg, my ankle and foot, it's bruised and swollen.

Wincing with pain and discomfort the only feasible explanation is I bashed my foot against the bed during the night. It is not a perfect answer but the only one that is logical.

Those eyes seemed terrifyingly familiar, a movie? A TV show? 

■

The following night, the dream or more aptly described as a nightmare reoccurs. Running and running, those eyes chasing me, this time the hand grabs my wrist. I fight with all my strength but it is  useless. A voice echoes in the fog of my dream, "time to come home!".

Once again awakening with sweat covering my body, my wrist throbs, bruising in the shape of a hand print darkens the skin. "What the fuck?"

Once the initial shock evaporates I must have held my wrist so tight during the night I bruised it, right?

Right?

■

Night after night, the eyes pursue giving chase relentlessly. Tormenting what sleep I can get, waking in a pool of my own fright.

Trying everything to keep myself awake feeling like a character in a Freddy Kruger movie. Eventually the body demands sleep, hunted in my sleeping hours by a force I do know what.

Exhaustion takes the driver's seat and eyes flutter and slowly close, dreamland now the landscape. The eyes close in. The chase begins, even in the land of dreams by body and mind seem hindered from lack of sleep. The eyes seem so close, arms wrap around my body drawing me closer to the eyes. A form takes shape, a very familiar one, "Time to come home, my love" 

"Minhyuk?"

"Time to come home!".

Slowly my mind  and body leave dreamland, looking around. I am once more in the safety of my bedroom. Why am I dreaming of him? 

Minhyuk, my ex, my intense ex.

■

Why? Why am I dreaming about him? The break up was not pleasant, but when are they really? The cold steely look he  gave me sent a   feeling of complete unease, the intensity shocked me to my core.  His unreadable features coldly assessed me like a bug on a microscope slide. Remembering the immense relief when he left, why am I dreaming about him now?

■

Fighting sleep is like battling with your own demons. In the end sleep always wins. Running through the dark stumbling and falling,  the eyes unstoppable energy nipping at my heels. Minhyuk's  unrelenting pace is always constant.

"I am your home" he whispers his voice ever so close.

"Time to come home!".

■

This has to stop! I can not continue like this, I need sleep.

Maybe if I confront him in my dream it will stop, it's my dream after all, it's just a dream!

◇

Don't run,  face him! Turn around to face him. Face him! Confront him! The eyes loom in the dark moving closer and closer till Minhyuk is standing before me. "Time to come home" 

"No leave me alone"

"Time to come home where you belong my precious"

"No"

Minhyuk stares for a moment then while wrapping his arms around my body, pulling me in so close our bodies merge as one. Our lips touch tenderly at first then a hunger buried within him takes control, a kiss filled with passion and promise. "Time to come home" he whispers breathlessly.

Wake up! Wake up!

■

Toast and coffee, the breakfast of champions, thoughts lost in the meaning of the dream. 

Knock knock knock 

Opening the door Minhyuk stands there, his  eyes  a pool of black, "time to come home".

#minhyuk x reader #monsta x fanfics #monsta x scenarios #monsta x x reader #monsta x fanfic #monsta x au #monsta x yandere

[pearlsephoni]

At the End of the Sun, Chapter 7: Midsummer

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: This Chapter: M; Whole Work: E

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Kagehina (Kageyama/Hinata)

Characters: Shoyo Hinata, Tobio Kageyama

Word Count: Chapter: 4,358; Whole Work: Estimated 100k+

Summary: The arrival of midsummer brings with it a birthday and a complication.

A/N: Written for the Kagehina Big Bang 2022! Further author’s notes can be read on AO3.

It didn’t take long at all for Shoyo to fit the wolf’s nocturnal changes into his new normal. Once he stopped waking up at the sound of the shoji screen sliding open, he either slept through the night feeling subconsciously comforted by the warm presence at his side or woke up to a low murmur of his name.

During the day, little moments and new memories disrupted his routine, emerging with the summer heat: lazing on the porch next to the wolf with a damp cloth on his face, figuring out how to make cold noodles and glowing under the wolf’s startled praises at night, relishing the warm smell of the sun on freshly-dried laundry.

A month passed before the wolf’s sister paid them another visit and brought Shoyo the promised vegetable seeds. There wasn’t much else for her to drop off after just a few weeks, but she still lingered to help Shoyo plant them. “Are you sure these are still in season?” she asked, handing Shoyo tools and seeds from where she crouched at the edge of the soft soil.

“It might be,” he admitted, “but if it’s too hot for them, I can build a frame and put a cloth on it to shade the garden. I could even soak the cloth with water, so it’ll drip on the plants and keep them fed.” He could remember Yamaguchi doing so one summer, when he had to be away from the palace grounds for a few days and didn’t trust Shoyo nor Tsukishima to remember to water his garden.

The wolf’s sister hummed, her brows raised over wide eyes. “That’s clever. You might have to do that soon. Midsummer’s almost here, huh?” Her eyes flickered over to where the wolf was dozing on the engawa. His ears twitched and lowered a bit, as if he could feel her stare.

Odd, Shoyo thought. But before he could ask anything, she was looking back at him with a smile and a bright, “D’you need anything else?”

And so he added tending to the slowly unfurling buds of green to his slow, warm days.

He took it all for granted, until the wolf suddenly announced that he would be visiting Shoyo’s family the next day. “I probably won’t be back until the day after,” he told him the night before his departure, “but I’ll tell them you’re doing alright, and why you wanted me to check on them.”

That didn’t ease the ache of loneliness that settled in Shoyo’s stomach, an ache that not even hunting could soothe. Out of a silly sense of hope, he still laid out the wolf’s futon next to his, even though he knew he wouldn’t be back. It was unnerving, going to bed and not drifting between sleep and wakefulness to the sound of soft breaths and low words. By the time the second night without the wolf rolled around, the ache of loneliness had condensed into a stone that weighed heavy on his heart.

Then he was shaken awake to a familiar whisper repeating his name. “Hinata…hey, wake up.”

His eyes blinked open slowly, staring blindly into the thick dark. He was only aware of the lips brushing his ear and the hands bleeding warmth into his shoulders, their skin separated only by the thin material of his sleep robe. “Okami-san?” he whispered, almost too hopeful.

“Hey.”

With a gasp, he scrambled to sit up and face the wolf, sparing a mournful thought for the hands that slid away. “You’re back!”

“I’m back.” He could hear a smile in the quiet words, and it pulled his lips into a matching curve. “Sorry it took me so long.”

“It’s okay. How are you? How are my mom and sister?” In his eagerness, Shoyo hadn’t noticed how close the wolf was sitting to his futon, not until he felt his broad hands brush his knees as he shifted back onto his own futon. He pointedly ignored the warmth spreading through his body from the lingering ghost of his touch.

“I’m alright, just tired. Your mom nearly shot an arrow at me when she saw me in the yard—I almost didn’t speak fast enough to remind her who I am. It’s not funny!”

Shoyo didn’t feel any remorse for his laughter, not when he could hear laughter coloring the wolf’s voice. “I think that’s a good thing!” he snickered. “That shows she can still keep them safe! Usually Natsu and I are the ones who fire the arrows at anything that tries to sneak in.”

The wolf didn’t say anything for a breath, then spoke again before Shoyo could ask what was wrong. “Well, it wasn’t a good thing for me.”

“Awwww, quit whining. You’re here, aren’t you? Ow, hey!”

The wolf’s poking finger slid away from Shoyo’s waist before he could catch it. “Jackass,” the wolf grumbled, a laugh still brightening his grumpy words.

“Yeah, yeah.” It was Shoyo’s turn to fall quiet—he knew what to ask next, but a part of him dreaded the answer. “How, uh…how’s Natsu?”

“…She’s okay.” The wolf’s voice was soft, even gentle, making Shoyo’s throat ache from dual embarrassment and gratitude. “Not better, but not worse. Your mother says she still can’t leave the house without getting out of breath. But when she heard me talking, she could at least come to the door and say hello.” Shoyo could feel the futon beneath him tensing and easing from the wolf’s nervous fingers. “She wanted to know how you’re doing. They both did.”

“Oh.” He’d expected them to ask, but hearing it made guilt prick at him. Was it wrong for him to be enjoying his time at the wolf’s home while his family worried after him? “What did you say?”

“I told them that you’re okay, that you’re keeping up with your training and managed to fix up the house, but that you miss them.” Shoyo heard a soft laugh before the wolf continued, “When I mentioned your garden, your mother made me bring a bunch of seeds and cuttings for you to plant some herbs and medicinal stuff. I left them in the kitchen.”

As if summoned by the wolf’s words, Shoyo was flooded by the memory of his mother’s garden, of the thick, comforting perfume of the plants warming in the sun, of the colors that stained her fingers when she plucked and pressed and dried them for later use.

She wanted him to use what he’d learned from her, not just what he’d learned at the palace. She was making sure he remembered that he’d learned valuable skills from her, as though he could ever forget. And she must have fretted over what he would do in the event of illness or injury without access to her supplies and skills.

He could read all that intent in the simple action of her sending along seeds and cuttings with the wolf. A smile tugged at his lips, but when he spoke, his voice was tight, forced low by the way his throat closed around a lump. “Thank you. I’ll plant them tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

Shoyo’s deep, shuddering breath seemed to ring loud in the silence that fell. His cheeks warmed at the wolf’s quiet, worried, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” The word cracked in half. “…No,” he finally admitted with a wince, “but I will be. I just…miss them.”

“They miss you, too.” The wolf didn’t say anything else for a beat, but somehow, Shoyo knew not to speak, knew that he was going to continue. And he did. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault you’re away from them.”

Shoyo reached out and managed to flick the wolf’s knee, smirking at the pained gasp it earned him. “Quit apologizing,” he scolded. “I just…wish you could tell me why we have to do all this.”

“Yeah,” the wolf sighed. “Yeah, so do I.”

———————~☾~———————

Shoyo didn’t mean to lose track of time. For all that he’d adjusted to not having a daily schedule, he’d forgotten about the importance of his old weekly and monthly schedule, too. Without anything to mark the passing weeks and months by, all he really had as a gauge of time was the growing warmth and longer days as midsummer approached.

Usually he would look forward to his birthday, to the simple joy of sharing his favorite meal or drinks with his loved ones. If things were normal, he could’ve been excited to go home and spend his birthday with his family after a year in Edo, could’ve spent the day hunting with Natsu and enjoying his mom’s cooking. He didn’t want to think about that, or else he would think about what he was missing, and he was already doing enough of that as it was.

So he didn’t think about it, not even when the wolf made the first visit to his mother and Natsu. Once Shoyo knew they were doing well, he could guiltlessly enjoy having the wolf back. He’d missed his company, of course he had, but he’d also missed the more restful sleep he got when he dozed off to the sound of the wolf’s soft breaths and sleepy grunts...

Which was how he ended up laying awake one night, staring up towards a ceiling he couldn’t see, until the wolf finally slipped in far later than usual.

“There you are.”

“Holy—spirits, Hinata, why’re you awake?!”

“Couldn’t sleep. What’s that smell?” Now that his anxiety over the wolf’s whereabouts was eased, he was newly-aware of a distant, delicious scent drifting in behind the wolf.

“Oh, uh…I just…reheated the food you left me,” the wolf mumbled as he laid down on his futon.

Weird…Shoyo didn’t remember cooking anything that had smelled like that. But it was late, and he was tired—maybe he wasn’t remembering correctly. Never mind. The wolf was there, meaning Shoyo could finally drift into a deep, peaceful slumber.

In the morning, the wolf was gone, as usual. What wasn’t usual was the smell—it was the same smell he’d noticed the night before, except the wakefulness of daytime helped him pinpoint it more precisely. It was rice and egg and maybe a little bit of meat…no way. It smelled almost exactly like the meal his mother would cook up as a treat for big days or celebrations.

He traced his typical shuffling path to the kitchen, and ended up following the delicious scent as well. It got stronger with every step he took, until his mouth was watering when he stepped through the door. “…Okami-san?!”

There, sitting by the stove with his tail tucked close to his shuffling paws, was the wolf. He looked shy, a sight Shoyo hadn’t seen in months. “Um…hey. Happy birthday.”

“Huh?!”

“H…happy birthday?” the wolf repeated, sounding much less certain. “Isn’t it today? Your mom said it was coming up.”

Shoyo’s eyes jumped between the stove, the pots of rice and meat on top of it, and the wolf sitting next to it all, while his still-drowsy mind scrambled to connect some dots. His birthday, his mom, the familiar home-cooked food…“Did…did my mom share her recipe with you?”

“Yeah.”

“And you…you cooked it? When, last night?”

“Yeah…?”

“Is that why you went to sleep late?”

“Yeah, why?”

“For me?”

“No, I just thought it’d be a nice decoration. Yes, for you, dumbass!” The wolf looked a lot less shy and a lot more grumpy, a sight Shoyo was much more familiar with. “What, does it smell bad? Did I mess it up?”

“No! No, it…it smells delicious. Thank you.” To his mortification, Shoyo could feel tears prick at his eyes.

But the wolf didn’t notice, too busy raising his snout with a satisfied huff. “Good. There’s a bowl of rice with an egg on top in the oven. You can add the meat to it if you want, it should all still be warm.”

Shoyo meant to step towards the stove to take a look at the meat and serve himself a delicious breakfast.

Instead, he found himself falling to his knees in front of the wolf and wrapping his arms around him, burying his nose into the thick fur at his neck. He could feel the wolf tensing in his arms, but that only made him hold on tighter. “Thank you,” he whispered, “thank you so much.”

It was the only thing he could think of saying. How could Shoyo thank him for everything he’d done? Yes, he’d asked him to come live with him for a year, but in exchange, he’d given Shoyo everything he could ask for: food, supplies, a comfortable home, his family’s safety, getting the yamakumo for Natsu, and a companion. A friend.

Bit by bit, he felt the wolf relax, until a soft snout slid over his shoulder and settled into the curve of his neck. “I should be thanking you,” the wolf muttered, his low voice shuddering through Shoyo. “I just…wish I could do more.”

“Don’t say that.” Shoyo pulled away to shoot a small frown at the wolf and received lowered ears in response. “This is already more than I ever expected.”

Silence fell over the kitchen as the wolf gazed at Shoyo for a moment. Then, before Shoyo fully processed the wolf’s movement, he was squeaking from a broad, warm tongue carefully licking his cheek. “Hurry up and eat,” he heard when he stopped cringing in surprise. “The food’s going to get cold.”

“Alright.” Shoyo stood with a final scratch between the wolf’s ears, before spooning some meat into the bowl of rice and egg. He couldn’t wait to leave the kitchen and sit down; his mouth was watering before he could even dig in his chopsticks. The egg was just on the right side of cooked, with a wonderfully runny yolk that thickened the fatty gravy from the meat.

With the first mouthful he took, his eyes fluttered closed as a deep sigh of relief escaped his nose and every muscle in his body relaxed from a tension he hadn’t even known existed. The food was delicious—it was a little different from his mother’s cooking, as was to be expected from a first attempt, but it was still recognizable, still filled Shoyo with a bone-deep contentment he hadn’t felt in too long.

“…Good?” His eyes flew open to see the wolf watching him carefully, ears flicking and tail slowly sweeping over the floor.

“Good? This is amazing!” Shoyo gushed, shoveling in another mouthful. “I thought you said you couldn’t cook?” he mumbled around the food.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, dumbass,” the wolf scolded, “and I didn’t say that. I said you could cook better than me. This only tastes good because your mom gave me the world’s most detailed recipe to work off of.”

A grin pushed at Shoyo’s full cheeks. He’d seen his mother’s recipes for food and medicines. He knew how daunting they could be. “Still,” he said once he swallowed, “not everyone can figure out her recipes. So…good job. And thank you.”

“Quit thanking me for everything.” The wolf padded up and nudged his nose against Shoyo’s hip. “I wanted to do this, and you like it. That’s all that matters to me.”

Shoyo had to shove another bite into his mouth to stop himself from instinctively thanking the wolf again. But the wolf didn’t move his head away from Shoyo’s hip, choosing to lean against him, and when Shoyo stuck his chopsticks into the rice, his newly-free hand fell to rest between the wolf’s ears with a light scratch. The slow swing of his tail told Shoyo that his silent thanks was heard, loud and clear.

It was a little strange, eating breakfast with the wolf curled up next to him on the engawa. Strange, but welcome. When Shoyo offered a piece of cooked meat to him, the wolf grumbled, “I made it for you to eat, dumbass,” as though his nose wasn’t twitching in interest nor his eyes alert as Shoyo ate.

Try as he might, the wolf was terribly transparent, endearingly so. Shoyo’s lips pressed thin against a smile as he carefully picked out a strip of meat that was practically dripping with sauce, making sure there weren’t any stray grains of rice on it before he laid it delicately on the wood where the wolf’s snout rested.

He watched that dark nose twitch and those dark eyes slowly blink open to stare at the meat. “…Hinata.”

“Hm?” Shoyo hummed innocently around the bite he’d shoveled into his mouth. “What?”

The wolf lifted his head and stared at him for a moment, his perked-up ears betraying the fact that he wasn’t actually annoyed. “…Nothing,” he eventually mumbled, before carefully eating the meat.

Shoyo’s suppressed smile finally pulled at his lips as he looked away, letting the wolf enjoy the meat without an audience. “Are you going hunting today?” he asked when the sound of chewing faded into silence.

“Was planning on it.” There was a pause. “…Why?”

“Can I come with you?”

He asked it casually, as if his knee wasn’t bouncing with nervous energy. He could see the wolf turn towards him from the corner of his eye, and he pretended to be preoccupied with eating.

“You…you want to hunt with me?”

“Yeah, is that okay?” Shoyo finally met the wolf’s stare, and was relieved to see him watching him with surprised interest and not reluctance. The sight reassured him enough to continue, “I’ve missed it, and I could use the practice to shoot moving targets. I’m really good at it; you won’t even notice I’m there!”

“I want to,” the wolf blurted, “uh, I mean…I want to notice you’re there.”

“Oh.” A pleased flush rose to Shoyo’s cheeks. “Okay. Then…let me know when you go.”

“Sure.”

It took Shoyo finishing his meal and cleaning up everything for the shy awkwardness between them to ease. And even then, the wolf didn’t seem to fully relax until Shoyo appeared with his father’s bow, his quiver of arrows, and a bright smile. “Ready when you are!”

Hunting had always been a solitary activity for Shoyo, with the exception of when he was learning from his father or teaching Natsu. He used it as an escape, a way to get some time alone on the rare occasions that he needed it. When he’d asked the wolf if they could hunt together, he’d been nervous for the wolf’s answer as much as he’d been nervous about possibly regretting the ask.

All the nerves washed away the moment they stepped into the woods together. Shoyo hadn’t realized how much he’d missed feeling like part of a team. The two of them drifted together and apart between the trees, sometimes tracking their own prey, sometimes helping each other corner a particularly quick rabbit or bird. When they eventually returned to the house, it was only because they wouldn’t have been able to carry back any more game.

It was lucky that they returned when they did. Shoyo was barely able to finish skinning and cleaning everything before the sun set, forcing him to wash up and go to bed by candlelight. The wolf was nowhere to be seen as he shuffled back to his room, but when Shoyo was drowsily roused from sleep, it was to the feeling of fingers tracing patterns into the futon by his shoulder. “Okami-san?”

“Hey. Did you, uh…did you like your birthday?”

“Of course I did,” Shoyo laughed sleepily. “I didn’t think I could enjoy it so far from home. Thank you.”

“Oh…good. You’re welcome.”

The low voice sounded strangely bashful, but Shoyo had an idea of how to shake the wolf out of his nerves. “You even let me win at hunting. That was nice of you!”

“…What?”

“What? Didn’t you let me kill more animals?” Shoyo wished the wolf could appreciate the exaggerated innocence in his round eyes. “Are you just worse at hunting than me?”

“It wasn’t a contest!” the wolf griped. “And you didn’t hunt more than me! I got more birds than you!”

“But every rabbit was worth two birds!”

“Hah? Who decided that?”

“I did—ow!” Somehow, despite the thick darkness, the wolf had managed to poke at Shoyo’s ribs with pinpoint accuracy. “You little—!”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“You jerk!” Shoyo reached out and shoved at the wolf’s shoulder. “What, are you embarrassed that you couldn’t beat me, even as a wolf?”

“I’ll show you ‘beaten’.” The words were growled, sounding more wolven than human. A shudder went through Shoyo, though he wasn’t sure if it was from fear or something else, something closer to the warmth prickling under his skin.

He didn’t get a chance to decide. He was too busy squawking at the feeling of his thin blanket being pulled aside and replaced by a hot body braced over him. Large hands glanced over his waist, his ribs, his shoulders, before finally brushing his wrists, sending another shudder through Shoyo.

It was strange, thinking of this invisible presence as the wolf. The calloused hands that traced hot paths over his body, the broad chest that he shoved at, the hips that he could sense hovering over his own…they didn’t belong to a wolf. They belonged to a man, a strong, lean man that spoke to him in the same low tones with none of the rough, wolven edges. They belonged to a shadow, a presence Shoyo couldn’t see, but could still feel in all the ways that mattered.

It was so easy to forget the shadow’s true form at night when he was laying next to Shoyo. But feeling his strong muscles shifting under smooth skin and smelling the warm, comforting scent of him made something else in Shoyo rise alongside the fondness he already felt for the shadow, something that he ignored in favor of shoving at him again. “Get off me!” he shouted, his laughter dulling the demand.

“No.” The shadow had been holding himself up on his knees as he searched for Shoyo’s wrists, but when Shoyo began shuffling to slide out from under him, he sat on his thighs and hooked his feet over Shoyo’s shins, keeping his legs pinned to the futon.

Shoyo cursed the dark. He wanted to get the upper hand, knew he could do it if he could see or didn’t care about hurting the shadow. But neither of those things were true, leaving him handicapped by the shadow sitting on him and by his own caution. He was well and truly stuck—but that didn’t mean he had to make victory easy.

He kept squirming and shouting under the shadow, even when those large hands finally caught his wrists and pressed them by his head. “Lemme go!”

“No. Dammit, quit moving!”

“No!” With both his wrists and his feet pinned down, Shoyo could only writhe and twist his body. It was stupid and ineffective and kept the shadow grumbling and laughing over him, which was reason enough for Shoyo to keep doing it.

That’s when it happened: with all his squirming, the ties of Shoyo’s sleep yukata became looser and looser, until a particularly big arch of his body made the garment fall open. The feeling of cold air against his skin made awareness and panic pierce through Shoyo’s amusement like a spear, and he fell flat to the futon with a gasp.

His squirming had made the shadow growl and topple forward until his forearms pressed Shoyo’s to the floor. Shoyo had never thought much about the shadow going to bed shirtless in the summer. He still wouldn’t have, if his newly-bared chest hadn’t brushed against the shadow’s skin.

That same heated shudder ran through Shoyo, and this time, he recognized it with a jolt: arousal. The feeling of warm skin brushing his nipples and the sound of the shadow’s surprised grunt made Shoyo’s blood run hot through him, pooling down his body until he was suddenly reminded that, while the shadow had been going to bed shirtless, he had been going to bed pantsless.

His panic and surprise left him on a breathless, “Okami-san—”

“Shit, fuck, sorry,” the shadow gasped, scrambling off him until Shoyo was left alone on his futon, half-naked and mortified. “Sorry,” the wolf repeated, “That wasn’t— I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” Shoyo interrupted in a quiet voice. He found himself thanking the darkness that he’d been cursing just minutes before. At least now it was hiding the way his hands shook as he re-tied his yukata, keeping the shadow from feeling even guiltier. “It’s not your fault. I started it.”

“Still, I didn’t…I’m sorry, Hinata.”

“It’s okay! I’m not mad, I swear!”

“Then why do you sound—?” His words choked off just as Shoyo felt a flush of embarrassment warm over him—embarrassment and definitely nothing else. “Never mind. Um…we should probably, uh…”

“Go to sleep, yeah,” Shoyo mumbled. He blindly grabbed at the thin blanket and pulled it back over himself. “G’night, Okami-san.”

“Good night. And I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing and go to sleep!” His lighthearted order was answered by a soft huff from the shadow.

Despite his blanket and newly-tied yukata, Shoyo felt oddly exposed, even as he drifted to sleep.

His dreams were punctuated by whispers and ghostly hands following the same path over his body that the shadow had traced. But Shoyo didn’t feel scared or unnerved, only anticipation, a longing for more that had his body curving into the touches and his lips practically aching to be kissed.

When he awoke the next morning, it wasn’t with a jolt nor with uneasiness urging him to get up. No, for the first time in months, if not years, Shoyo found himself feeling reluctant to wake up, keeping his eyes shut for an extra few breaths as though he could trick his mind into dreaming again.

The understanding of his dream and the memory of what had caused it finally made his eyes snap open. Oh.

“Oh, no,” he groaned into his pillow. This whole ordeal, the flower and the yearlong stay and the shape-shifting man, was already so weird. Of course he’d found a new way to complicate things even more.

#at the end of the sun #pearl writes #pearl's stuff #haikyuu!! #kagehina #tobio kageyama #shoyo hinata #shobio #hq!! #haikyu!! #haikyuu fics #fics #fanfics #haikyuu fanfics #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fanfic #kagehina fics #kagehina fic #kagehina fanfic #kagehina fanfics #kghn #shobio fics #shobio fanfics #shobio fic #shobio fanfic #hq fics #hq fanfics #hq fic #hq fanfic #haikyu fics

[muraenide]

@sweetlybite​ asked: It's not often that he feels small and weak, but occasionally it does happen. He dislikes it when it does - if only because it just doesn't make any sort of sense. He's bigger now. Stronger too. Maybe not as much as he wants to be, but sometimes a switch or whatever flips and he feels light and shaky like he's just come out of the egg again.

That's why he's crouched in front of Jade's bed, debating if he really wants to deal with the half knowing, half questioning look Jade is likely going to direct his way.

Behind him, his Jade simply taps a foot - slow and measured like the metronome their elementary school teacher used to keep them all in line during music class.

He crawls up into the Jade of this loop's bed in order to escape it, shimmying under the covers and shutting his eyes.

It's silly, but he feels safer almost immediately. Like he's wedged himself into a crack of the coral, and there's nothing in the world that can reach them.

Just for a second, then he'll get back up. Maybe. If he feels like it.

Slowly, Jade opens his eyes, when all the shifting under his blankets is enough to send a jolt tingling through his skin and flicker his eyelids awake. He blinks in the darkness, sighing inwardly in relief when the first thing he sees is Floyd’s empty bed on the other side of the room. The squirming ball of warmth in his bed is probably Floyd, then. Goodness, how wrongly it rubbed him to feel warmth coming from Floyd. No doubt, the power of the transformation potion altered not only their appearance, but their entire biology as well. He’s used to the cold, and sometimes Jade might have preferred it than sweating under a hot sun, but at least now he could empathize with the love for warmth these land dwellers had. 

❝Floyd - you were so quiet I had not heard you.❞ He voice is bleary but clear and audible. The change from nocturnal to being active in the day had not been a fun venture, along many other things. ❝What’s the matter? Feeling clingy?❞ He adds softly.

Floyd doesn’t answer, but Jade could feel every movement through the vibrations given off by the springs lodged in the mattress. Like back in the days when they’d found a nice cave in the crevices of the coral reefs to nest in where food is aplenty, they would excitedly fit themselves in, huddling in the same hole and counting the preys that swim past unnoticed. Floyd is a greedy eel, and he would only pick the biggest and juiciest ones to strike at.

Floyd stops when he’s apparently found a position he liked and felt the most comfortable. Jade could see the lighter shade of the back of his head in the dark; lifting a hand, he reaches out to ruffle his hair lovingly. Sometimes he could understand the grave misconceptions other people had of Floyd; with the way he behaves with the other students and the teachers, it’s not a wonder why more than half the school is terrified of him. But there are times like these when Floyd seemed so small, so fragile and weak, like a lost child wandering endlessly in the woods seeking for only some warmth and an ounce of comfort, Jade does not quite grasp what is so terrifying about him. 

He run his fingers through his twin’s hair, before slipping down to sooth his back in slow and gentle comforting strokes. A low, steady hum resonates through his lips; it’s the very same song mom used to sing to the both of them when Floyd refused to sleep. It’s been a while since Floyd felt the urge to show such a vulnerable side, but Jade has learned not to question why or how Floyd gets into these moods of his. Perhaps a lot of people would think that they are jerks who care about no one but each other, but perhaps Jade is biased knowing that there is nothing Floyd wouldn’t do for him, nor would there be anything he wouldn’t do for Floyd.

#sweetlybite #𖦹 ⋆꙳ ⁄ ic.

[minnowshell]

Welp, I have an empires oc/sona for season two. 

His name is Aspen (he/she/sol) and I love him very much.

More information under the cut!

- He’s a aardwolf hybrid, and currently lives in Gem’s empire. (don’t ask him why he moved to the sunshine empire when he’s nocturnal, he doesn’t know. Well he does, but it was mainly for the vibes). She is a architect and messenger (mainly for when there is important mail that must be delivered now and it’s the middle of the night)

- He also researches about the Ancient Empires when he can, mainly to try and incorporate their building styles into her own planning. It often annoys the librarian staff because why is there this idiot learning things when he’s half asleep at noon. Just borrow the book or something (he still doesn’t know how libraries work, despite living there for at least a year)

- He used to live in Scotts empire, just a fact, I don’t exactly know where to go with that.

- He honestly wishes to have a small farm, but animals are mostly awake during the day, and he really doesn’t want to get up at 9am to feed the goats.

- Sol also probably has weak ankles, I’m just going to project my weak ankles on my characters, sure. Probably why he moved from Scotts empire, eyah that makes total sense. Not like Gem’s empire is also kind of on a mountain/hill.

#empiressona #The art of the Minnow #I totally didn't create this character instead of doing my chores #or create a plot for the dnd game I'm running #totally #empiresona

[lovemariannexox]

words

parting you was such sweet sorrow

and the taste of sugar makes me cringe now

I could construct signs like falling into

step with the dark

nocturnal people show signs of falling

into more bad habits

and so I become the morning person

and when the shadow creeps over our home

I am kept awake

so I try to find my place in the darkness

of deep space

swimming and breathing and floating

but when I come back to these words

I’m tempted to shroud the world in

clouds of history, grudge, justice

but I fall through them and I find I’m

stuck here, surrounded by my words

ugly utterances, secrets, shame.

hatred, doubt, delusion, confusion, blame

mum, dad,

Him then, our friend, him before, his brother, his mother,

him who sleeps next to my room, his friend, my friend, is it my fault?

Those who happening all at once, clashing crashing and burning and hurt that is not all my fault but must be.

him now is worlds away,

He is the assurance that I am okay. I am an adult

not the child building an igloo of words

Made up of fragments of people to keep everyone out

how can this be?

I tried first to love everyone. A mistake. Over flattered, wasn’t I? self indulgent.

now I’m trying to forgive. Make amends. Apologise. I feel ashamed for what I bring out in others

Responsible for things I did not do and have no link to. But responsible for what I did do I hope I can be.

I wish I could just swim through space, with reassurance, a sense of completion and contentment. That I finally did something right.

and this gift is kept from me by myself. Instead I give myself stupid, self pitying words.

I need to learn a new language, a language of forgiveness

if the world was just all for me, I’d have to see myself for what I truly am.

god or the universe or total randomness throws chaos in my path and I try to make lemonade.

give back, find the gaps where I can pour solutions, attention or whatever love I can find

even if it feels like an imitation, if I’m not sure why, if it’s exhausting or confusing or unacknowledged

maybe I can learn this language and speak in love to myself

[nokissforthedauphin]

Oh hello Ri-Il!

AND HELLO NOCTURN!!!!!!! FINALLY AWAKE!!! 

#Im busy trying to be better with backgrounds #not just... like adding them to the picture but you know #putting my characters INTO the background #which is... very hard actually... #I had a lot of troubles with this panel ahaha... #and yes Ri-Il has different clothes #uhuhuhu wonders over wonders #and of course he wears a kimono-thingy #that japan-otaku haha #did I mention that I love him #and that I love drawing him #and if you are now confused why we see Ri-Il there you ask the right question #remember some pages ago I wrote *NOT* the same time #so at the time when Nocturn awakenes Ri-Il is still in henel #busy working #and not in Prag #ue #and why can he sense when Nocturn is awake...? #well.......... i let you guess why

[prof-peach]

What would make a good ghost-type starter? My kid's about to turn ten and REALLY wants a Gastly. I think it's because the Ecruteak Gym Leader, Morty, and his Gengar are like, her childhood heroes. She says she even wants to be a ghost-type specialist. Honestly though, I'm kinda reluctant. I mean, you've heard the rumors about ghost-types and children, right?

Your concern as a parent is wholesome, and I can understand your reluctance to dishing out a ghost Pokemon without further investigation first, so let’s put some rumours to bed here.

The dex entries often depict ghost types and tricky, scary, wild and sometimes even dangerous, stealing children away, being living grudges, turning lost kids to Pokemon, and being overall hard to handle, often somewhat lacking in empathy even.

This is what a dex does, it’s built for kids, it’s information is out there to inspire kids to find intrigue in species that are overlooked. When your little, you make up stories, as a parent I’m sure you know, some of those stories your kids tell you seem actually terrifying, horrific, some kids love to indulge in the creepy, the unusual. It’s not to be feared, it’s to be celebrated. The dex is an exaggeration, a base for further learning, and often the gateway to kids wanting to know more. There is a fatal downside, their entries and statements about some species can be unnerving to a regular adult. We are fearful, we see this potentially spooky dangerous thing and of course we want to protect the family from that. But the info given is often a 1% (at most) chance occurrence.

Phantump? They aren’t born of lost kids in the woods. You ask any breeder worth their salt, and they’ll tell you they’ve seen those Pokemon hatch from eggs like everything else.

Drifloon, tries to steal kids apparently? Nah, they’re lighter than air, most of their movements just simply look that way, but it’s usually the wind pushing their bodies about. They’re actually very kind pokemon.

What else, oh, Banette. Born of a discarded toy with an eternal grudge? Haha nope. They aren’t all made that way, at all, many evolve to be perfectly happy healthy Pokemon with a lot of love for their trainers.

The dex focuses in on the unusual, the extraordinary, the facts that statistically will interest their target demographic most, and kids have way less fear than us. Look at yours. She’s been exposed to the same stuff you have, yet she’s not hesitant to want a ghost type, she’s not afraid, not learnt that fear yet, which is an incredibly good thing.

On the very unusual case where a ghost type is like their dex entry, it’s usually captured, aided, and rereleased in a secure location, away from those who could get hurt by it.

Ghost Pokemon do not hatch with a choice of body, a choice of type, or a set of rules to follow. Just like us, they learn and amble through their life trying to find satisfaction, friends, work, family, love and kindness, and to figure out how they fit in it all. They’re highly complex and empathetic Pokemon, often treated differently because of what they are, rather than who they are. When they find people and Pokemon who don’t treat them with hostility and unkindness, they will spend their life with them, they will give everything for them, protecting their loved ones with the ferocity other species can’t muster.

I for one think that as long as your kid knows what to expect, and is responsible and reliable in caring for a Pokemon, then perhaps it’s a good time to start looking. A ghastly is a perfectly fine starter, they have low care requirements, snacking occasionally, but feeding mostly from places of reflection or worship.

You know why ghost types always hang around graves? It’s how they feed. When people reflect, they produce a certain kind of energy, it is not something you can measure easily, or see, but a ghost Pokemon can sense it. They have learnt to live off the energy people expend reflecting, and the most common accessible place to get this for a ghost type, is graves. They also frequent places of worship, monuments beloved by locals, and buildings that once housed a lot of love. You can tell when an abandoned house had something truly terrible happen in it, not even the ghosts will feed there. The energy is bitter to them, and many don’t care for it.

To help your kid, set up a place within the house where you, your family, your other Pokemon, can go to reflect. Some people build this space around the telephone, or computer. When thinking of, or talking to distant loved ones, the same energy is produced, so at home the ghost type can snack and not run low on energy. It’s a nice modern day adaption that’s makes caring for ghost much easier thankfully. Spending 10-20 minutes every other day in the reflection zone will feed the ghost, but will not drain you or your kid. They do not eat up a lot from us, nothing we haven’t already expended.

Along with this, be aware that the ghost line can be somewhat nocturnal, so setting up a regular bedtime might be a little tricky, so that the Pokemon is accounted for, but also so the kids not out all night, that’s not safe at all. Sunset seems to be their peak active hour on average, long shadows mean they can jump around fast between dark patches, a trick ghost show off regularly.

If you are worried, try to make time to go out with your kid and their partner, to a park or maybe a more central street that’s well lit, so they can practice and be trainers in a safe environment. I can totally get not wanting them out in the dark alone, safety always comes first.

What else. She’ll probably have to start carrying an umbrella around. Ghastly aren’t too keen on suuuuper bright light, midday is not easy for them, but some do not want to sit in the pokeball while their trainer is up and awake, they want to play and be around them. An umbrella means they can get some shade no matter the time of day, and have some freedom to move about even in harsh sunlight. Too long in the sun will drain them of energy, and they’ll need to rest and sleep it off, recharge at the reflection station at home, or go spend an hour in a churchyard or something.

They eat most things and sleep anywhere, so there’s not a huge amount of specialist items to be bought for the home. Test different flavours on them, and try to find a ghastly that has a temperament that’ll get along with your whole family. You should definitely check out local adoption centres, they are in undated with ghost types this time of year. People hand them in for all sorts of reasons.

Little tip, if you bring Morty spicy baked goods, like chilli cheese bread or something, he’s more inclined to help you. He hangs out near the burnt tower a lot with his team, and takes trips to the local food festivals too, so if you notice an advert for one, see if you can catch the guy there. He’s reluctant to take on students, but if your kid turns up with a ghastly, and (from what I can assume) and overabundance of energy for Pokemon, plus a spicy treat, the guy melts a little and you can ask questions or request a little time for your kid to get some tips and tricks from a professional gym leader. I think it’d be interesting to investigate at the least, sounds like he’s the closest link between her and the Pokemon she so desperately loves. Plus how cool would that be for her? Gets to talk to her childhood hero. Kind of cool.

As a parent, I advise you get some cleanse tags too. There may be rooms you don’t want them entering, or items you don’t want them messing with (knives/power tools ect) , placing a cleanse tag on each wall, or on the items, will stop them interacting with them, so you can sit knowing things are safe for the Pokemon and your family.

In short, don’t knock the ghost types, they’re just as important, kind and loving as any other Pokemon. I’m not saying naughty troublesome ones don’t exist, but chances are you’ll find one that’s a great match for your family. Thank you for asking questions and not jumping to just get a Pokemon ASAP, you’d be surprised how few people do their homework before inviting in a new Pokemon to the home.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks #hoooo boy I went off on this one a bit #sorry guys #long post