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delimeful · 5 months

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the end of being alone (6)

remember how this installment was mostly fluff up until this point? we'll get back to that!

... just not this chapter <3

part 2: how does a kid end up stranded in space, anyhow?

warnings: bad self care, illness, panic, child in distress, minor injury, non-consensual drug use, trafficking, unethical imprisonment and treatment of prisoners, child endangerment, implied offscreen minor character death, ambiguous character fates, this is a heavy tearjerker chapter but it does have a hopeful ending, lmk if i missed any

Virgil’s condition hadn’t improved.

They’d tried as many non-medicinal techniques as they could, struggling to figure out what would help and what would harm an unpredictable biological system that they barely understood.

Nothing had helped. Nothing was working.

And each time Virgil woke up to the sight of the ship around him, he wept and struggled and shouted, burning through his meager energy and only worsening his health.

He didn’t respond to heartfelt pleas from any of them, rarely even seeming to understand they were in the room with him. His stare was distant and terrified, his mind somewhere else, and each time it happened, Logan wanted to understand how to help so badly.

So, after several cycles without sleep and with the pressure of increasing desperation weighing heavy on his head, he finally succumbed to the deeply unwise impulse to start a Vidi.

He’d only wanted to understand what Virgil was yelling, try and grasp the reason behind his fear in the hopes that they could abate it, even slightly.

The moment he’d made contact, however, his mind had been dragged into a memory with intense force, the metaphorical handles of the Vidi ripped away, leaving him unable to steer and barely able to move.

His fingers twitched with the urge to pull away, but he stopped himself. It could hurt Virgil, and he’d endured plenty of traumatic memories before. He could handle this.

With a blink, he was looking through a much younger set of eyes.

—

The ship came during the summer.

Virgil remembered, because he’d been reviewing holidays and important events with his class before the break, and his half-birthday was coming up in a week!

His birthday was in winter, so his half birthday was in the opposite season, summer! He’d said as much before trying to debate his way into a trip to the park with his friends, and failing miserably.

So, he’d snuck out. And gotten himself lost between one turn of the neighborhood and the next.

He’d run into one of his neighbors, who’d been more than a little concerned to see him wandering around alone, especially because there had apparently been some people disappearing lately.

“Where did they go?” he’d asked, and gotten an uncomfortable reassurance, which definitely wasn’t an answer.

He’d frowned, tried to ask again, but his neighbor had gone quiet and grey-faced, staring at something over his shoulder. Before he could turn to see, there was a sharp thunk, and a bright bolt of pain in his shoulder.

There was a high, crackling scream, which was bad, but Virgil couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to figure out where it came from. A pair of warm hands caught him when he staggered, and then he was out.

He barely recalled what happened next, the memories fragmented like someone had taken a hammer to them. He didn’t want to think about them, but he kept the pieces close and tucked away anyhow, knowing they were important even though they hurt.

He felt flickers of awareness, the sensation of eyes rolling against heavy eyelids, a rapid pulse pounding away in his ears like a big drum, angry and fearful shouting barely audible beyond the clamor.

And then: the barest glimpse of the docking port of a ship from the inside, the entrance ramp folding up and sealing away the green trees and blue sky on the other side. Replacing the brief vision of home with cold metal and unearthly lights.

There weren’t any warm hands holding him, now.

His whimper turned nearly soundless on the way up his throat, but it drew the attention of his captors regardless.

A rush of unfamiliar language above him, another flood of numbness spreading through him, but even from that one fragmented moment, Virgil understood that they were taking him away.

Another blank period, like dipping one's head briefly underwater, and then he was waking up again.

“Easy, baby,” a familiar voice said, a hand stroking through his hair, slow and gentle. “You’re okay, you’re alright.”

“Miss Susan?” Virgil asked, and his voice came out small and crackling. He coughed, trying to force his crusted over eyelashes apart with a growing sense of panic.

“Hey, I need some water for the kid!” Miss Susan called lowly, before setting a hand against his back and helping him shuffle upright. “Take it slow, baby, don’t choke. There we go.”

Virgil opened his eyes and got his first look at the room he’d be stuck in for the next several months.

It was dimly lit, and smelled bad. The floor was metal, with a few thin stripes of grating, like a shower drain. The walls were made of tinted plastic and covered with sharp-edged wire netting, and there were a whole bunch of people inside with him and Miss Susan.

They all spoke to him at one point or another, but he only remembered some of their names. The thought made his stomach twist painfully, and he clamped down on the sensation.

He couldn’t be sick. Being sick was bad.

The time shifted, Miss Susan still at his side but her hair longer and her skin sallower. They were all seated, tired from the cold and the dark and the gross food that he wasn’t allowed to throw up.

Mister Ben was coughing, hard and rasping and wet, one after another. A few people were crouched near him, talking to him in hushed voices as they tried to coax him into stopping, but his body curled in and convulsed like he couldn’t control the coughs at all.

Before long, there was a clang, and a spraying sound like that time a fire hydrant down the road had been busted open. A few people stood between the door and Mister Ben, but the room grew more and more hazy with the thick air that made his legs go all numb, and they were swaying with the effort of staying upright.

Virgil knew by now what happened next. He turned and pressed his face against Miss Susan’s side, and she drew him close and held him tightly as the suits came in.

The aliens were always wearing them when they came into sight. Thick rubbery suits with dark-tinted visors, each with an electric zapper in hand. They’d drag the sick one out, and Virgil would never see them again.

“Leave him alone!” Miss Susan cried, joined by the rising voices of the rest of their roommates. “Don’t touch him, you leave him the fuck alone!”

Virgil kept not looking, but he said it too, into the worn fabric of Miss Susan’s blouse. “Leave him alone, don’t touch him, leave him alone, don’t touch him, leave him alone…,”

It didn’t work. It never did. The aliens didn’t listen to them, and they made them weak and floaty if they tried to intervene.

His voice cracked as he kept repeating it, even as the door clanged again and the hiss of air stopped. If he didn’t look up, he could pretend that Mister Ben was still there, only quiet because he was all better from his cough.

"It's okay. I know. It's alright, honey." Miss Susan’s hands shook as they stroked carefully through his hair, soothing him to sleep through the last of his hiccuped sobs.

Everyone who spoke to him was kind, even when they were unhappy. When Miss Susan slept but he was awake, Mister Aaron would invent word games to play or Miss Kelsey would challenge him to push up contests, and they would all take turns trying to think of the worst possible combinations of foods to compare to their mush food.

The best was Miss Susan, though. When he was bored, she would tell him stories about her nieces and nephews, and the farm she grew up on, and silly people at her job before they got taken. When he couldn’t sleep, she would hum whichever parts of lullabies she could remember.

Even when he got sad and didn’t want to move or talk at all, she would hold him close and poke at his side and gasp about seeing the firefly that had snuck onboard with them, until he had no choice but to wiggle free and inspect every corner for its light.

The other adults would spot it every once in a while, too, and try to point it out to him. He never saw it, which he would report back to Miss Susan every time.

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there,” she’d tell him, waving at the dark ceiling of the room. “Glowbugs can’t be bright all the time.”

“Why not?”

“Well, they’d get too hot and sweaty. They’d have to go swim in the ocean, and then they’d probably all turn into anglerfish,” Miss Susan said, even though she hadn’t known what an anglerfish was until Virgil had told her everything he could remember about them.

“No way,” he said, laughing despite himself. “Bugs can’t turn into fish!”

“Maybe they just get too tired, then,” Miss Susan said, ruffling his hair. “It must be exhausting, being so bright.”

She went quiet for a moment, and Virgil leaned into her touch, squinting at the dark corners and willing the bug to show itself.

“Even when they’re blending in with the dark, though, they’re still there,” Miss Susan finally continued. “So don’t give up. You’ve just gotta trust in it, and eventually, you’ll spot it.”

“I want eventually to be now,” Virgil had responded, petulant as he flopped against her side, eyes growing heavy.

Miss Susan pet his head, humming quietly until he was almost asleep. She let out a big sigh, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet. “You and me both, kid.”

And then it was the last day.

He knew because Miss Susan’s hands were carefully cupping his face, coaxing him into waking up with a careful tap to the nose. They never woke him up on purpose, because 'growing kids needed their rest', except for the last day.

Virgil felt his brow scrunch with confusion even before his eyelids started fluttering, and Miss Susan chuckled and pressed her lips to the crown of his head for a moment.

“Come on, baby, wake up. It’s important, okay?”

He forced himself to open his eyes and keep them open, a little unease running down his spine.

Everyone had been scared, lately. Their group had shrunk in number, their room had been moved onto a bigger ship, and there were distant sounds of crowds at all hours, making his skin prickle with nerves when he was trying to sleep.

Some of their roommates were really smart, and they’d started puzzling out the words of the alien language from the ship directions that were given over the intercom and the overheard conversations of those passing by or rudely peeking in at them.

They’d taught Virgil some of them, whenever he was awake enough to remember. The words they whispered now weren’t ones he’d learned yet, though.

‘Transfer’ and ‘auction’. Everyone disliked them, felt too upset or angry about them to explain, even Miss Susan. Or maybe they just didn’t want to explain them to him, like they wouldn’t tell him what the aliens did with people when they got taken away. There had been a lot of arguing and shouting in low voices, trying to keep him from overhearing.

But now, they were waking him up.

Virgil let himself be coaxed to his feet, following Miss Susan over to the corner where everyone stood in a huddle, the tallest of them on the outside.

“Okay, sweetie. I need you to listen to me very closely, alright?” she told him, turning him to face the corner where they usually kept extra clothes in a pile. “You’re going to have to be very brave for me, okay?”

The clothes had been moved. There was a hole in the wall, where the netting had been peeled back. The edges of it were rough and curved like they’d been made with fingernails, like it had been painstakingly carved through one scratch at a time.

It was a small hole, barely the size of a vent, or a cat flap. Virgil could probably fit through it, but he was the only one.

“No,” Virgil shook his head immediately. “I don’t want to! I’m scared.”

Miss Susan squatted to be level with him, holding his hand in hers. “I know, honey. But it’s important, okay? We’re going to get out and find you, but you have to go first and stay safe until we do. I’ll send our little glowbug with you, and it’ll light the way in the dark.”

“What about your dark?” Virgil asked, rubbing harshly at his stinging eyes.

Miss Susan softened, pulled his hand away and smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “Oh, baby. I’ve seen that glowbug a hundred times, here with you. I’ll be okay without it for a little while.”

Virgil turned to look at the hole again, imagining a little firefly crawling through with him so he wouldn’t be alone.

“Do you promise?” he asked, and Miss Susan pulled him into a hug so tight, it felt like it squished all the air from him.

“I promise,” she said, and her hands shook a little but her voice was steady. Virgil smushed his face against her shoulder for the last time.

“Okay. I’ll— I’ll go.”

The barrier of bodies around them seemed to relax, just slightly, though it still took Miss Susan a few moments longer to release him.

They told him everything he needed to know, everyone chiming in. That he had to run, as fast and as far as he could, and be sneaky and quiet when he was too tired to run. That he should find hiding places and hole up in them, wait until nobody was around to keep running.

That he should always hide from aliens, even if they weren't wearing the suits. That he should never let them see him, because they hated humans. That if they did grab him, he could do whatever he needed to do to get away.

“Just like stranger danger, right, buddy? You can bite, kick, scream, whatever you need to do.”

Virgil nodded, trying to push down the sick, stressed feeling in his gut, and when there was finally no advice left to give, he turned to the gash in the wall.

Wiggling through it was hard, because there were still sharp, poky bits that scratched at his skin and the inside of the wall was dark and stifling, but every time he wanted to stop, he could hear the encouragement of everyone else, who was still stuck inside.

There was a little bug with him, he reminded himself. If he closed his eyes and froze up, he wouldn’t ever be able to see it glow.

Finally, he squirmed free of the last few inches, dropping onto the floor of a very small dark room with shelves in it, like a linen closet. He turned back to face the hole, calling out, and Miss Susan reached an arm through.

He grabbed for her hand and pressed his face to it, clung to her for a long moment, his breaths stuttering as she cradled him the best she could.

There was a muffled clang, and Miss Susan ran her wavering thumb over his cheekbone one more time before pulling away.

“Run, Virgil. Now. Run!”

So he did.

He ran and hid, just like they told him, but he picked the wrong place to hide because it was part of another ship, and it took him far away. He kept running, pulled himself into tiny little nooks on spaceship after spaceship, snuck food wherever he could get it and only ever whispered to his invisible firefly.

Eventually, he left a ship and there were no other ships around to board, only the wide landscape of a different planet, full of weird trees and weird animals and a weird town that he fled from. No more ships came, and that was fine because he didn’t want to run anymore. He wanted to stay and wait for them to find him.

He laid on his back and faced the sky, searching for a sign that they were coming. He was hungry and tired and lonely.

The stars above looked just like fireflies, hundreds of them. Enough for all of them to watch together. Except there wasn’t a ‘them’. It was only him.

Virgil felt his face growing hot, his throat closing up at the thought. It was too frightening to be alone.

No, he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t. He had their firefly with him, somewhere next to him in the grass.

“Just because I can’t see them, doesn’t mean they’re not there,” Virgil said to himself sternly, and rolled back to his feet.

He would find something to eat, somewhere to sleep, and he would wait. They would find him. They would find him. They would…

—

When Logan finally eased the mental connection closed and pulled himself free, he found there was a low, buzzing keen building in the back of his throat. The sort of sound he hadn’t made since he himself was a child.

Virgil still lay there unconscious, but his cheeks were shiny and damp with tears. Logan reached out, ignoring the heat radiating from the pupa’s skin, and gently smoothed a narrow finger over his cheek, wiping the wetness away as best he could.

It didn’t do much, but the crinkle in Virgil’s brow seemed to ease just slightly at the sensation.

Roman paced by again, pausing at the sight. “Specs? Is the kid alright? …Are you alright?”

Logan wondered what Roman would think about the fact that Humans and Crav’n had more in common culturally than he would have ever guessed. That an entire group of Humans had given up their only boon for the slim chance of getting the only child present to safety.

No time to waste, now. That conversation would have to wait until they’d launched.

“Let Patton know we’re leaving, and meet me in the navigation area,” he instructed, already turning to leave. “I’m going to clear our landing area for departure.”

“What— I thought we agreed it was a bad idea to actually leave?” Roman asked, glancing between Logan and Virgil with visible worry.

“It’s a worse idea to sit here and wait,” he replied firmly, and then he was down the hall and out the hanger door, ignoring the shiver of secondhand trepidation that Virgil’s mind had left in his.

He circled the ship, placing the warding discs that would keep their launch area organism-free down one by one, and then paused at the sight of a familiar creature standing by the main entrance hatch.

It was a Humlilt, one with a distinct little white splotch on its head. Logan was fairly certain that it was the one who had stood between them and Virgil during their second meeting, the most loyal of the bunch, only proved further by the way it had been waiting outside the ship since Virgil had been taken aboard.

Logan was also fairly certain that Virgil had named this one Susan, after his neighbor. The Human who’d taken care of him, in those memories.

“You’ve taken care of him, too, haven’t you?” he asked, still far too affected by the painful sympathy that had washed over him post-Vidi.

The Humlilt stamped a hoof and trumpeted at him warningly as he neared, still obviously holding a grudge at them for stealing Virgil away.

Logan attempted to rationalize himself out of the decision he was about to make, and utterly failed.

—

It took some digging and reaching out to a few of Logan’s less savory contacts, but the ship was on its way to a waypoint station that was rumored to have a Human expert in residence. It could have been a trap, a lie meant to lure interested parties into an attack, but they were going to have to risk it.

The three of them had all agreed to the plan. They wouldn’t be able to live with themselves otherwise.

Now that they were in transit, Logan sat down with his two closest friends, and began to explain just what he’d learned about their kid.

A few rooms down in the medical bay, a half-conscious Human reached out a feverish hand and found a small, fluffy presence curled up at his side.

The Humlilt crooned a few notes, sounding just like the aimless lullabies its namesake used to hum.

For the first time since boarding the ship, Virgil breathed a little easier.

#wibar #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #ts roman #space au #humans are deathworlders #teoba #the end of being alone #mind the warnings #writing #my writing

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gallusrostromegalus · 7 months

Note

ok so re: sternritter i gotta ask, whats the plan for my girl gigi? she's a horrible awful gremlin baby but i cannot help but love her immortal tgirl swag.

also, are there any sternritter who got incredibly underused in the story that you've significantly rewritten so far?

As it stands, Gigi gets to live, but she is going to have to sit through a VERY unpleasant lecture about how yes, Gender is Fake, Political Organizations are Fake, and to an extent the 'Line' between living and dead is fake but Bodily Autonomy and Informed Consent are VERY, VERY REAL and you will *fucking* respect them because the Gotei-13 is the home of monsters.

For better or for worse, the person she's getting the lecture from is Tama Nikuya

---

Tama: Sure, you're a Monster too, Miss Gewelle -that's why I like you so much and am even extending you this offer- but I promise there are much worse things serving in the Guard than were dreamt of in your philosophy. Horrors, artificial and natural alike, well within the comprehension of your intellect regardless of gender, but no less awful. Worse, perhaps, because you understand what's going to happen if you put one drop of blood out of line-

Gigi, twitching: Urrgh!

Tama: Don't gurgle at me in that tone! Tama: You do understand, don't you?

(warning for body horror, parasitism, mind/body control, discussions of violence, transphobia and abuse under the cut) (Bleach is a pretty dark series and the Fic is E-rated accordingly)

Gigi, shaking her head as much as she can: Nglk!

Tama: What part don't you understand?

Gigi: Thzzg-? ThhZomg-!?

Tama, head cocked sideways, squinting as she tries to make sense of what Gigi is saying: 'the zog-'? The Zombie? Oh for fucks sake Gigi, we're well past that.

Gigi: Bugh-? Haaauuuu?

Tama: Alright alright, if it will help. The Zombie relies on some of your blood reaching my brain, or replacing a large portion of my own blood with yours, through which you exert your reiki, and thus control my body, right?

Gigi, Blinking Slowly: ... Gigi: Haugh- Haugh gid you vigure thad oud??

Tama, taking a deep, disappointed sigh: Babygirl, it's not that hard. That's very basic Spiritual Dominion magic. Don't get me wrong, you're very good at it and the sheer number of targets you can control is really impressive but as far as techniques go, it's not terribly complex or hard to counter.

Tama, Gestuting at where Gigi is awkwardly kneeling on the floor, paralyzed: Take the thing you've got- that's an enhanced strain of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis- you've heard of Cordyceps, I'm sure- that I've worked with to function inside humans- REAL pain in the ass by the way, Humans are insanely immune to infection and parasitism compared to most organisms-

Akon, holding an extremely large laser gun, not currently cocked but still at the ready: This is your requested reminder to stay on topic, Sir.

Tama: What? Oh, thanks- but Cordyceps is fun because instead of bothering to control the half-assed mess that is a mammal's neural system, it straight-up structurally takes over the large muscle groups! Just suppress the autoimmune response enough by giving the fungus an antihistamine release function too, and that sucker can crawl into every major support structure you have in under a week!

Akon: Yeah, I'm not sure 'Fun' is the right word here.

Tama: Don't knock it until you've tried it!

Akon, debating becoming the server technician for the 9th again: I'll take your word for it, Sir.

Tama, poking Gigi's arm just below where a long spire of the fungus is sprouting out of her shoulder, one of several growing out of her body and impacting her ability to move, including speaking: I'd say you're about 40% Fungus by weight right now, mostly your skeletal muscles, and those do what I say, which is why you're sitting down and listening while I try to change your mind. Tama, giving Gigi an encouraging thumbs up: -And why you still have a mind for me to change! Tama, giving Gigi a comforting pat on the shoulder next to the fungal spire: I have a lot of faith in your ability to make the right choices when presented with all the information, Miss Gewelle. If I thought I had to change your mind for you, I'd have pulled out the Hypomyces lactifluorum!

Gigi, watching Akon visibly shudder behind Tama: ...uhh. Gigi: Bugh. The Zomgee..?

Tama: Oh, right, The Zombie. Yes, yes- Reiki Domination is pretty tough to resist, especially from someone in your spiritual weight class, but, ah- Well, you've run into two big problems here Gigi.

Tama, sitting down on the floor next to Gigi: First problem is the use of blood as an infection mechanism. Tama, cheerfully, as though giving constructive criticism in an introductory art class: Honestly? Not a bad choice! Blood-bourne infections are some of the hardest to resist, and Forigen Reiki is a PAIN to purge from the bloodstream unless you flush the entire system. Most people, as you have seen, are doomed!

Tama, wincing: ...But I'm not most people. Tama, pondering: ... Come to think of it "People" might be a more correct term for what I am, but my situation is pretty radically different from "most" people!

Gigi, still defiant: Whad- Whaddafug ARE yu?

Tama, gesturing to indicate the situation is about as clear as mud, or morphology-based taxonomy: I- Well. It's long and not really all that funny story, but I got stuck on the wrong side of a a version of the Kodoku Bug Thunderdome curse- you know, the inside- for over eight hundred years with a whole mess of Hollows, Obake, and other nasty things and I went to some pretty extreme measures to survive. Tama, with a sad sigh: To make a long story short- I don't have blood anymore. Or a brain. Tama, frowning in contemplation: ...Or I'm ALL brain, it sort of depends on your definition of 'brain'-

Akon: Topic, Sir.

Tama: Thanks Akon! -But from my perspective, your blood is just another snack with a little bit of Reiki spice on top! Which brings me to your other problem.

Tama: You hit hard Gigi! Real hard! And you really should be proud of the degree of concentration you have! But like I said, the Gotei-13 is the home of monsters, and there wasn't exactly a burger joint or an opportunity to farm inside the Kodoku. ...I survived because I kind of literally ate things like you for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

[There is a long moment of silence as Gigi processes that statement, it's earlier compainion statement about what Gigi's blood was like for Tama, and the general implication of those on Gigi's circumstances]

Gigi: ...Gid I daste gud?

Tama, ears flicking up to listen better: What's that?

Gigi: Uck! Gigi, wide eyed with terror but somehow this situation has not ended in catastrophe yet, and she might be riding the adrenaline as far as it will go: ...Gid I datse good?

Tama: HAH!

Akon, turning around because he can't face this at 7AM without coffee: NO!!

Tama, teasing: Yes, you do taste very good, or at least the aperitif of blood you threw in the thing I use as a face did!

Gigi, giggling a bit in fear like a Hyena: Oh! Dhad'z Good! Gigi, stopping as the rest of the sentence catches up with her: Waid. Gigi: Whad Do you MEANg, 'ting you uze az a fage'? Gigi, with increasing horror: Whag- Whag ARE You?

Tama, giving Gigi a light, encouraging punch in the shoulder: You're a smart girl Gigi! You can figure it out if you put your mind to it! Tama, counting off the datapoints on her paw-pads: I don't have blood, or a brain, I lived underground with nothing but corpses to eat for a few centuries and my go-to restraint method is a parasitic...

Gigi, a horrible new world of possibilities opening to her like the lid coming off a tub of very expired sour cream: ...Mu-Mushgroom?

Tama, giving her two thumbs up: You got it! Tama: "Mushroom" is probably more specific than you intended, but you're not wrong! The part of me standing here lecturing you is more or less the organ I use for sex and sometimes paperwork!

Akon: Speaking of, the division W-2's still need to go out-

Tama: Akon, we're in the middle of an apocalypse. If the council tries to make everyone pay taxes on time this year, the Old Man won't have the chance to burn the government chambers down before the peasants do it for him. Chillax.

Tama, returning her attention to Gigi: It's probably why I'm so cheerful and down to party too! You know. Because I'm a *Fungi*!

Gigi, staring blankly: ...

Tama, wilting a bit: -A. Fun? Guy? A Fungi?

Gigi, starting to cry big, ugly genuine tears: Uh-uh-uuuuuhhhnnn...

Tama, trying to console Gigi with a hug that definitely makes things worse: ...You're right it'd probably be funnier if you didn't have a parasitic fungus rapidly taking over your person and forcing you to sit still and listen to a genuine freak of science tell you about Cannibalism. Tama, giving Gigi a little shake of encouragement: But you see how this makes my point, right? This isn't very fun for you, is it?

Gigi, suddenly locking up like a badly taxidermied fox: ...

Tama, staring blankly: ..? Tama, ears slowly rising as understanding dawns on her face: Oh?

Gigi, face rapidly alternating vivid shades of pink and white as her emotions battle for dominance, before settling on 'Scaroused': -Uh...

Tama, delighted: OH!

Akon, enraged: OH. MY GOD.

Tama, pointing at him and hissing: You are the LAST person who gets to kinkshame anyone young man! Tama, pointing back at Gigi: At least SHE knows how to have fun!

Akon: I'm gonna transfer to the Ninth and never, ever leave the server room again.

Tama: If you think you can withstand the emotional toil of leaving the mass spectrometer in my hands, be my guest.

Akon: :(

Gigi: Uh?

Tama: He's spiritually bonded to a particularly finicky piece of lab equipment that hates me, like how some tween girls become spiritually bonded to giant murderous equines, which also tend to hate me. Don't worry about it. Tama: Back on topic, this does explain a few things. You DO understand that your feelings about this situation are unusual and given that most humans and their spiritually powerful derivatives experience pain and fear from having their autonomy restricted and bodies invaded by parasites, How do you think being made into a Zombie feels for other people?

Gigi: ...Bahd?

Tama, nodding enthusiastically and making her ears flop in agreement: That's right! Bad! Tama, settling down a bit more to explain things carefully to Gigi: See, the thing is- even monsters like us need to get along with other people. Tama: I know a lot, but nowhere near enough to enjoy the benefits of civilization all on my own- I don't know how to fix a toilet, or fill out grant applications or stand in the same room as the mass spectrometer without breaking it, so it's really, really good I've got people Akon over there, who like me, who can, and more importantly are willing to do those things for me!

Gigi, annoyed: Gyou woulgnd AVV to-

Tama: hang on, hang on-

[Tama pokes a few points on Gigi's face and throat, using Reiki to disconnect some of the Cordyceps parasite, then pulls the spire that was developing under Gigi's tongue out. It's much larger than it looked, and makes Gigi's throat wiggle as she removes it.]

Tama: Oh hell, that shouldn't have been there. How were you even talking around that thing girl?

[Tama tosses the fungal spire aside and offers Gigi a water bottle. Gigi takes a few sips before nodding and Tama puts it away.

Tama: Okay, try again-

Gigi: Ugh- You wouldn't HAVE to get along with tall, drak and grumpy back there if he was a zombie!

Tama, disappointed: ... Tama, taking another deep sigh: ...Okay, let's say I zombify Akon-

[Akon cocks and aims the Laer Gun, which whines ominously as it charges]

Tama: WHICH I AM NOT GOING TO DO FOR REASONS I'M ABOUT TO ELABORATE ON, PUT THAT DOWN-

[Akon turns off and lowers the lazer gun, still glaring.]

Tama: Thank you. Tama: I know you're still getting used to how most people have conversations, but that was a normal way to discuss a theoretical scenario and not me about to turn you into a Zombie. Do you understand?

Akon: ...Ues, Sir.

Tama: He used to work for an Evil Clown, don't worry about it- Alright, Let's say I was a micromanaging-type moron, and I decided to zombify Akon instead of just getting along with him. I'd lose all his expertise immediately. No more functioning mass spectrometer or bathrooms.

Gigi, haughty: Mine do.

Tama: Pardon?

Gigi: My zombies keep. most of their skills and personality. At least the ones I make out of corpses. Gigi: Akon could still fix the mass-thingie and if you zombify the Grant Committee you don't even have to ASK for funding.

Tama, intrigued: ...Do they? That's good to know, I'll want to hear more about that later-but that still supports my point.

Tama: Alright, HYPOTHETICALLY I Zombify Akon, and the Grant Committee- well now, the person who's choosing when the mass spectrometer gets fixed and who gets grant money I don't need is ME, and I already have WAY too much work to do, I don't have initiative to spare for them! I got stuff I want to do! I can't micromanage everyone, everywhere all the time! Tama: It's literally easier, more efficient and frankly, way, WAY less stressful to just get along with people and live in a society than to try to DIY one out of corpses.

Gigi: ...I guess.

Tama: So that's my question Gigi. Tama: Are you capable of respecting people's bodily autonomy and personal space to get along with them?

Gigi, frowning and biting her lip: ...

Akon: That doesn't sound like a 'Yes'.

Gigi: It's not though. It's not less stressful to just get along with people. Gigi: That's- That's WHY I learned how to make zombies in the first place. I'd. I'd TRY to get along, dammit! But any time I let people make choices, they chose to get up my ass about my name, or cut off all my hair, or send me off to 'camp', or beat the shit out of me, or- or lock me in the mausoleum and leave me to starve instead of just call me my name or admit they had a daughter- Gigi: ... Gigi: So it was- Gigi: -It was easier with bodies. Gigi: Bodies don't insist you're a boy or call you a freak or take you to a 'private institution' to 'help you get better' where they strap electric paddles to your head and run a million volts through you- Gigi: Dead people are SO MUCH EASIER to get along with! They don't think you're a creep! They don't think at all! Gigi: I mean, why should I-? Why should I try to get along with people who have already made up their minds that they're never, ever gonna get along with me??

Akon: ... Akon: ...I mean, you are kind of a creep-

Tama: -AKON!

Akon: Hang on I'm not done! You are a bit of a creep, but it's not the girl thing, it's the zombie thing!

Gigi: Oh, just because you're scared of a dead body-!

Akon: GIRLIE I'VE BEEN DISSECTING CORPSES SINCE BEFORE I COULD TALK I AIN'T FUCKIN' SCARED AND I AIN'T DISAGREEING WITH YOU- YEAH. IT IS EASIER TO TALK TO A CORPSE THAN A PERSON. I SPENT PRETTY MUCH ALL MY ADOLESCENCE IN THE 12TH DIVISION'S MORGUE BECAUSE TALKIN' TO LIVE PEOPLE SCARED THE FUCK OUTTA ME!!

Gigi: WIMP! YOU HAVE NO IDEA-

Akon: NO, I THINK I FUCKIN' DO! Akon: YOU KNOW WHERE URAHARA HIRED ME OUT OF? Akon: PRISON. Akon: I GOT THROWN IN PRISON WHEN I STILL HAD ALL MY BABY TEETH, *JUST* BECAUSE I WAS SO CURIOUS ABOUT BODIES. JUST BECAUSE I MADE PEOPLE UNCOMFORTABLE! PRISON-PRISON! THE MAGGOT'S NEST, WHERE THEY KEEP WAR CRIMINALS AND WORSE! Akon: YEAH, TALKIN' TO LIVE PEOPLE SCARED THE SHIT OUTTA ME, BECAUSE THE LAST TIME I TALKED TO SOMEONE, I LITERALLY GOT SENT TO HELL!

Gigi: -!

Akon: Captain Nikuya is RIGHT, the Gotei-13 is the home of Monsters- and the twelfth has got some of the most freakish and frightening ones of the whole guard! Akon: But I'll take the self-vivisecting, species-transgressing, only-barely-human Monsters any day of the week over the maggot's nest because we're all shamelessly, gloriously monstrous together, and the ONE damn rule of the monster's ball is to ASK before you fuck around with someone's stuff, especially their body. Akon: Not "Don't mess with someone's body", Not "Don't be weird", Not "try to be normal". It's "Be freaks and monsters, but also friends."

Akon: God help me if Nemuri ever finds out, but that's why Mayuri is still in that flask. Most of us have a pretty good idea how to isolate his consciousness again, but they way he- I'd have killed him the week after he took over if I had any idea how.

Akon: That's the rule Gigi. No violating anyone's right to live as they are. Akon: That's the difference between a monster- someone people are scared of just for being how they are- and the kind of FILTH that needs to be scrubbed off the earth. Akon: Do you understand Gigi? Nobody gives a shit if you're a girl on purpose or whatever- Fuck, I can think of a few colleagues who'd put themselves on a list for you to reanimate them when they die no matter how much of them actually comes back. It's overwritin' people's minds and controlling bodies BY FORCE. Akon, putting down the gun and patting his coat for his cigarettes: If I understood you right, that's more or less what people tried to do to you, isn't it? Tell you how to act, who you were, by whatever means necessary?

Gigi: ...fuck you.

Akon: Fuck me yourself, you coward.

Gigi: ... Gigi: So what am I supposed to do when someone gets up in my face again? Smile and play nice? Roll over so they can kick my guts out?

Tama: Oh, no- If they violate the "Don't mess with other people's autonomy" rule, all bets are off! That's why when you tried to murder me and Akon a few minutes ago, I was right to infect you with a parasitic fungus to protect myself and stop you! Tama: In fact, the sooner and harder you react to that shit, the less people will try to cross that line, so if anyone tries to fuck with you, you absolutely can and should make an example of them!

Akon, holding up his cigarette to ask if it's alright, and wating for Tama's nod: -If anyone tried that shit with me I'd absolutely turn them into a living educational exhibit on why people need to have skin, but genuinely? Nobody in soul society gives a shit what's in your pants unless they're your doc or fuckin' you.

Gigi, rolling her eyes: Sure, sure-

Tama, laughing: No! Really! It was a surprise for me too.

Gigi: You're lying to me.

Tama, shrugging: Okay, don't believe me, believe your eyes- Tama, ticking people off on her paw-pads: You saw the peacock earlier, he's a seated officer and Baldy is his Husband. Tama: Their boss is the most rampantly bisexual slut I've ever had the pleasure of meeting and the primary load-bearing member of the captainacy polycule-

Akon, starting to giggle: -Yeah I bet he can bear a lot of loads-

Tama, casually plucking off another fungal spire to half-heartedly throw at him: Oh, and the guy who had this job before me IS pregnant with his second child!

Gigi, incredulous: ...The guy with the stupid hat that looks like off-brand Shaggy from Scooby-Doo? That looks more a beer belly.

[Akon: Loud, Snorting Laughter]

Tama: Okay, you're right, it looks more like a beer gut than a baby right now, but PLEASE don't tell him that- He's in the weepy mood swings phase right now, and won't get his sense of humor back until the third trimester. Tama: We' re all placing bets on when Baby Kegger is gonna be born if you want in on the action.

Gigi, Biting her lip and grimacing: I- I don't-

Tama, taking Gigi's hand: -You know firsthand how weird my body is. I'm not properly male or female- I've got at least 21,837 sexes within me because of the insane way I have to metabolically regulate my body. Tama, shrugging: I'm just female in conversation because language hasn't evolved the 12th-dimensional pronouns I'd need yet. But when I brought this up at a meeting, the only question I got from the old man was if my uniform would need altering. Tama: I mean. It did, but that's because I'm 4'6" and i get all my clothes in the children's section, but I'm still amused that that was the captain-general's polite way of asking if I'd need any accomodations.

Gigi: ...Promise it'll be okay?

Tama: I don't know how the war is going to turn out, but if you help us and stop making zombies, I promise I'll do everything I can to make it okay.

[Gigi manages a weak smile]

Akon, wheezing, and doing a terrible Scooby-Doo impresson: Ruh-roh! Rhe Rexperiments Breached Containment, And Raggy's rust Whadder broke!

[Gigi, snorting and giggling in spite of everything}

Tama: See? Now you're laughing. When was the last time a Zombie made you laugh?

Gigi, sniffling a bit as she giggles: ...never.

Tama: So, are you ready to give an alliance a shot?

Gigi: I- I guess?

Tama: You guess? I can't go to the captain-general with a mere hypothesis.

Gigi: ...Yes. Yes, I'm ready.

Tama, grinning: So you're going to be a good girl and keep your bodily fluids to yourself unless asked?

Gigi, turning bright pink: Y-yes!

Tama: Yes, what?

Gigi, going even redder: Yes, sir!

Tama, patting her head and releasing the hold on the Cordyceps, at least for now: ...Very good girl.

Akon, rolling his eyes: Uuuugh....

Tama, helping Gigi up: Hey! You know damn well that positive re-enforcement-

Akon, hefting his Lazer-Gun back onto his shoulder: -is an important part of interpersonal communication, reward the behavior you want to see yeah, yeah-

[Akon is about to turn to leave when a thought occurs to him and he stops and glares at Gigi]

Akon: ...You DO hit like a fuckin' truck.

Gigi, blushing and twirling her hair: Well, I mean-

Akon, pointing accusingly at Tama: I KNEW IT! YOU'RE NOT RECRUITING HER FOR THE WAR, YOU'RE RECRUITING HER FOR THE SHINIGAMI WOMEN'S ASSOCIATION INTRAMURAL CRICKET TEAM!!

Gigi: -the what?

Tama: And what if I am? It doesn't matter to you- The Shinigami Men's Association couldn't keep their wickets up if their lives depended on it!

Akon: -Call me when Matsumoto-taicho can bat out of the pitch!

Tama: Yeah, the fact that Rangiku and Hiyori both suck at it and you STILL lost by 203 points to us is not actually helping your case here.

Gigi: Is. Is cricket a sport?

Akon: SPORT? Cricket is an entire EVENT! It's a Way of Life! It's the philosphical ideal of-

Tama: Yes. Tama: It's a very silly sport, and his team sucks at it.

Gigi: Ooh! If we all live through this, I can be a cheerleader!

Tama, causing problems on purpose: Yeah!

Akon, sputtering with fury: I- That's- CRICKET DOESN'T HAVE CHEERLEADERS!!

Gigi, pouting with her index fingers pressed together, rocking her hips: -But I wanted to cheer for YOU Mr. Akon!

Akon, freezing like a deer in front of an oncoming 18-wheeler: -! Akon, turning ever-so-slightly-pinkish about the ears: ...I'll think about it.

Gigi, grabbing onto Akon's arm: Yay! Gigi, hanging off Akon and babbling: What are the team colors? Do you think like Majorette uniforms are cuter or something more like a miniskirt and halter-top?

Tama, letting them get a bit ahead of her as she dials the main camp: Anyone on the horn? It's Nikuya.

Nanao, on the other end of the communicator: Status report?

Tama: Good news! I've eliminated an enemy, found us an ally AND a new batter for the team if we all live to see spring training.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #giselle gewelle #Tama Nikuya #Bleach Akon #Help I ship Gigi and Akon now #mind the warnings #long post under the cut

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duskyashe · 10 months

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CAMP NANO DAY 8/9

(please see tags for trigger warnings)

[first three chapters] [AO3]

============<×^-^×>============

It had been a long time since Bruce had been this unbalanced by the thought of a conversation. He was unafraid to admit, if only to himself, that he was terrified about the kinds of things he'd hear from the young woman now sitting across from him. On the way to his office, he'd asked her if she felt safe and comfortable talking to him by herself, or if she'd prefer having his youngest adopted son sit in with them, and while she was understandably hesitant to let an unknown fifteen year old sit in on their discussion, he'd also seen the way she'd unconsciously relaxed when she saw Tim walk in.

"Before we start, my name is Timothy Drake-Wayne, please call me Tim, and you have permission to hug me, cling to me, cry on me, or even squeeze my hand tight enough to break it. Whatever you need to do to get through this discussion. I'll even leave for snacks if you need to say something intensely personal or that you feel I shouldn't hear," his son said with a small, supportive smile. Bruce was so proud of Tim, he'd come so very far since first coming to them. "I'm very well used to standing in as an emotional support person when a foster kid gets comfortable enough with Bruce to want to tell him exactly what happened wherever they'd been before coming here, and I'm perfectly content to keep doing so for as long as I live here."

Bruce watched as Jazz processed everything Tim said and caught the question in her gaze before she'd even opened her mouth to speak it. "Tim has decided he wants to work with CPS when he gets older, take his own experiences with the system and use them to help improve it. I do whatever I can to help him, to help any of the children who find themselves in my care, achieve his dreams," he explained softly, pride warming his heart and voice. "I'm not sure how well you remember him, but my first adopted son, Dick, recently decided to open his own gymnastics studio here in Gotham. His experience with you and Danny when you lived with us really left an impression."

Jazz nodded in understanding before glancing at Tim, reached for his hand, and took a fortifying breath. "My—the Fentons are… scientists, inventors, innovators, they—they discovered, independently, an entire species of interdimensional beings with incredible powers and such a rich mixture of cultures, and… and they decided those beings were unnatural, that they were evil and needed to be experimented on and exterminated. They created a portal to these beings' home dimension in our basement without following any sort of safety regulations or protocols." Jazz took another breath, swallowing as she looked down at hold on Tim's hand. "Th-the green on me and Danny when we first got here, it's called ectoplasm. It's basically the lifeblood of these beings, it makes up almost their entire bodies. Their dimension is full of it, as any excess they produce gets shed off into the environment around them.

"When the Fentons created their portal into the Infinite Realms, they didn't realize they'd installed a secondary switch that also needed to be flicked for the thing to work. A switch that was on the inside of the portal shaft and could only be reached by physically going inside it." She shuddered as she tried to bite back tears. "I wasn't home at the time. I was tutoring a fellow student in English at the local fast food joint. Danny was at home with his two best friends. Mom and dad had left the day before to track down the supposed "ghost" that had caused their magnum opus to fail to work. He should have been safe.

"I got a frantic phone call from Danny's friend, Tucker, telling me I needed to get home ASAP, that Danny'd had an accident and wasn't waking up. The student I was tutoring asked me what I was waiting for, to get going, and so I did. I—by the time I got back to the house, Sam and Tucker had managed to drag Danny away from the portal, but i-it was pretty obvious what the accident was, I mean… the portal hadn't been on before I left…"

Bruce had a bad feeling about where this story was going. He'd seen the product of lab accidents too often to be able to con himself into thinking it could be going in any other direction. He almost stopped her from continuing, but while she was very obviously distressed, the process of telling him, of telling them, seemed to actually be doing her some good, so he kept his silence and watched as she clenched Tim's hand even harder for a brief second before relaxing her grip almost entirely.

"Sam was fussing over Danny's prone form, trying to make him more comfortable on the steel flooring without moving him too much, while Tucker was pacing between the two of them and the swirling mass of green that was the portal when I got there. As soon as they saw me, Tucker was on me with tears in his eyes. "We thought he'd died," he said. "The screaming—we thought he was dead. We're so sorry, he could have died—we're so unbelievably sorry,"" Jazz quoted with a strained voice. "Sam's makeup was running from how much she was crying. Sam never cries, and there she was, kneeling over my barely breathing baby brother, nearly sobbing in terror and guilt. They—Sam had apparently dared Danny to go inside so they could get a picture, and while in there, Danny tripped, and he hit the secondary switch. The Fentons had apparently not turned the other switch off after the thing didn't work the first time, and Danny ended up paying the price of their stupidity. He was alive, he'd survived, but now he's rightfully terrified of anything to do with electricity above what comes out of your stranded wall outlet. Only, come to find out, Danny hadn't survived. Not entirely… not unchanged."

Knew it, Bruce thought wearily as he leaned back in his chair. He resisted the urge to rub his hand across his face or run it through his hair and instead just continued to listen to Jazz's tale.

"The combination of all that electricity running through him, killing him, as a portal made pretty much entirely of ectoplasm opened up literally right on top of him changed Danny on a molecular level. He's no longer fully human. He's now something called a halfa, half human and half… half ghost."

============<×^-^×>============

FINALLY got that finished! I sincerely apologize for not getting this out yesterday, I had to take a general health day due to both my lactose intolerance realizing, three days after the fact, that I'd eaten dairy and decided it didn't like that at all, and my sleep schedule being crap the past two days (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠) that's why today's post says "day 8/9", I'm counting it for both days since I *did* start writing it yesterday (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

For anyone reading this directly after day 6 but hasn't read any of the reblogs of day 6, this is actually chapter 4 of this fic, not chapter 2. I have two amazing co-writers who have each written an amazing chapter for this fic, which can be more easily read on AO3 by hitting the link up at the top!

Also, due to this fic having two co-writers for it, from now on, when I post a new chapter for it here on Tumblr, I won't be linking back to my previous chapter, since there will be two chapters between each of my own. Instead, I'll be linking back to the first post back on day 6 and to the AO3 version, where the entire fic will be readily available for reading.

Also also, because this is being co-written, any and all updates for this fic will be highly sporadic at best. Please don't harass me or my co-writers for quicker updates, we're all very busy people working together to write this purely for fun.

Have a wonderful morning/day/night everyone!

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zazrichor · 1 year

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🕯️🩸 | two standalone contributions for @trappedfanzine and one companion piece for the The Body Without Organs written by the brilliant @owlpockets | ☠️👻

Get the free zine here!

#word of honor #zazrichart #procreate #rebelle #trapped fanzine #liu qianqiao #du pusa #qiao luohan #zhou zishu #jing beiyuan #qi ye #horror #mind the warnings #nothing going on here ♪( ´ε｀ )#at first i wanted to post the full pieces #but i didn't trust tumblr with the tags #so you'll get previews where nearly nothing bad at all is happening

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itstimeforstarwars · 2 months

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Jango told Arla that Rex and Cody were her kids. She doesn't remember them, but then again, she doesn't remember a lot of things these days.

She's trying to include them in her life anyway.

(Inspired by the Galidraan AU)

#my writing #arla fett #captain rex #mind the warnings #this is a bit of a heavy fic #especially for being a oneshot #it's not quite as fucked up as the sabe/vader fic i wrote that one time but. the implications!

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underforeversgrace · 11 months

Text

stars in his eyes

DannyMay2023 Day 24: NASA

title: stars in his eyes

words: 1849

Summary: After two weeks in the GIW's labs, Danny is informed another government agency has taken custody of him. Of all the agencies to hurt him, why did NASA have to be one?

Warnings: Brief Depictions of Torture/Violence, Reference to Prior Dissection

Beta: probably-dead

~~~~~~

Danny bit back a hiss of pained relief as the IV in the crook of his arm was pulled out, doing everything he could to not glare at the scientist in front of him.

“Finally done with me?” He asked, keeping his voice level and hiding the pain that ached from every part of his body. The scientists here had long since proven they’d just laugh if he let on he was in pain.

Scientist N rolled his eyes, testing the restraints keeping Danny bound to the cold table beneath him. His chest was where most of his pain was, the incision now covered by his jumpsuit but there was a burn that blossomed with every breath he drew. He’d been here two weeks and was quickly losing hope he’d ever be saved. Ironically, the drugs they kept him heavily dosed with were the only reason his secret was still safe - he couldn’t shift back to human, the cocktail that had been running into him continuously from that IV successfully suppressing his powers.

“Another agency petitioned for you. You’re their property now.” Scientist N answered, tightening the restraint on Danny’s waist and grinning when Danny failed to hide the grunt of pain as the anti-ecto coated strap dug into his flesh, pressing down on the bottom of the Y incision.

“Fun. Who’s playing mad scientist next?” Danny asked, not catching the quip from slipping out fast enough. Just like every other time he’d sassed or back talked them, hundreds of volts of electricity burned through him, making his entire body spasm and he felt the stitches in his chest pop, cold ectoplasm bleeding down. He vaguely heard N’s laughter over his own screams.

“I’m sorry!” He said as soon as the electricity stopped, his body trembling from the aftereffects of the charge.

“It’s such a shame I won’t get to finish training you,” N said, grabbing Danny’s chin and making the ghost look at him. “Disobedient dogs are the most fun.”

Danny remained silent. He’d quickly come to the conclusion that the only reason he wasn’t gagged was because they enjoyed having a reason to hurt him.

Why did they delight so much in torturing him? Would the next agency hurt him more?

“Anyway, it’s NASA who’ve petitioned for you.” N said, frowning when Danny didn’t rise to the bait. Danny’s still heart fell. NASA, where he’d always wanted to end up, where he’d dreamed of being, were going to own him, do whatever they wanted to him.

This wasn’t how he wanted to join NASA - as government property instead of as a human with dreams of space. Somehow, the knowledge NASA were going to be the next ones to slice into him hurt nearly as much as the slicing itself.

“They’re coming for you in half an hour.” N continued, lamenting the fact he was losing his favorite specimen. “Stupid NASA. But they’re the big name compared to us so what they want, they get. Such bullshit.”

N kept ranting, either unaware or merely uncaring of the pain and sadness Danny was battling with.

Of all the agencies, why NASA? Why the one place he’d always dreamed of ending up?

What had he ever done to deserve this hell?

Danny didn’t try to protest when a mask closed over his nose and mouth, obediently breathing in the gas, used to this routine. He’d always thought he’d fight harder if he were ever caught. But fighting just meant more pain and he always lost and the experiments still happened and they delighted in having additional reasons to hurt him.

Drowsiness took hold quickly.

“Wonder if you can breathe in space?” Was the last thing Danny heard as darkness took him under.

~~~~~~

Unfamiliar voices hovered at the edge of his hearing as consciousness slowly returned to him, cool air on the bare skin of his chest. He felt the burn - it was the first thing he ever felt anymore - but it didn’t feel any worse than before.

Great. The NASA scientists were like the GIW ones. They wanted him awake during his autopsy. Tears slipped down his face as a full return to reality settled into his mind. Ancients, why did so many people like hurting him? He’d always thought good people were the norm but he was quickly learning there was a lot more bad in the world than he’d ever realized in his naïveté. He didn’t deserve this and no one cared that he didn’t deserve this agony, that he was just a sixteen year old they were hurting.

“This isn’t what we thought we were getting!” Someone male protested. “For God’s sake, just look at him!”

Something about that sentence hurt him deep in his core.

When was the last time he’d been referred to as a he instead of an it?

“He’s breathing.” Another person said sadly. “We were told we were getting a cadaver with life like qualities. Not this. A ghost - a kid.”

“What the hell did those psychos in white do to him?” A third person said, closer to him than the others. A warm hand was placed on his shoulder and he tried to flinch away, his eyes flying open in panic as he realized what he’d done and the hand jerked away.

“I’m sorry!” He obediently insisted, moving to where he’d been, ready for the hand to come back. The Guys in White scientists hadn’t liked it when he tried to pull away from their touch and he didn’t know how severely the NASA ones would hurt him.

“You’re awake.” The person who’d tried to touch him said. The scientist was a middle aged woman and her red hair reminded him a little too much of his mother.

He just nodded.

“Do you have a name?” One of the men asked.

“No.” He answered, the answer that had been drilled into his head by N. Humans had names. Ghosts didn’t. Ghosts were property. He wanted to obey the NASA scientists. The GIW he’d always knew would hurt him, but some part of him still wanted to be good for his new owners. He didn’t want to give this organization he’d always held in such esteem a reason to hurt him too much. “I am Specimen PD764.”

The man who’d remained silent scowled and Danny immediately tensed. He’d said something wrong, hadn’t he? Not even three minutes and he’d already upset the scientists. “What were you called before the Guys in White got you?”

Danny hesitated. Was this a trick question? N had gotten him a few times with similar questions. He just stayed silent. Answering wrong tended to hurt more than not answering at all.

Realizing he wasn’t going to respond, the lady stepped closer to the table. “It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.” Because ghosts can’t feel pain. “Can you sit up?”

For the first time, Danny realized he wasn’t shackled down. That’s why he’d been able to jerk so far away when she’d first touched him. “Do you want me to?” He asked.

“Only if you can.” She said, smiling at him encouragingly.

Danny pushed himself up, though he was coated in sweat and breathing through burning lungs by the time he managed to sit. Vertigo made his head spin - he hadn’t been upright since his capture. One of the men hurried beside him when he started to fall, bracing Danny’s back with his arm.

“I’m Ilana.” The lady introduced herself. “What did you go by before you became the Guys in White’s… specimen?” She asked, briefly scowling at the last word.

“I… Phantom. Danny Phantom. It’s what the town called me.” He finally answered. Something was different about these scientists, something that helped take the edge off his fear.

“Does that hurt?” The man not holding him up asked, now at the foot of the table.

“Ghosts can’t feel pain.” He immediately said. He knew that was a crock of crap and that the GIW knew it was. They delighted in his pain too much to believe it was fake.

“Danny.” Ilana said gently. “Is that what those assholes told you? Because getting up clearly hurt you.”

“Yes. It hurts.” Danny said slowly, cautiously. The more they spoke, the more Danny felt the warm bloom of hope under the cold pain of the incision. “Can I go home?” Slipped out before he really thought about it.

“Of course.” Ilana said instantly, the two others mumbling sounds of agreement. “Where is home?”

“Amity Park, Illinois.” Danny answered and tears began to fall from his eyes. Home. They were letting him go and he was going home.

He was sure he had an avalanche of problems to dig his way out of and more explanations than he was ready for, but all he wanted was to go home.

“We’ll leave within the hour.” Ilana assured.

“I can go home?” Danny repeated in disbelief, still not quite believing how different these scientists were from the GIW.

“Yes.” The man at the foot of the table said gruffly. “And I will be having numerous, very, very, strong words with the committee that authorizes their funding. Torturing kids on American soil?”

Ilana nodded. “Don’t worry, between myself and Arnold, we’ll destroy their reputation enough to pull their funding. They won’t bother you again. You’re safe now, Danny.”

“Safe?” Danny was starting to sound like an echo, repeating back words as he struggled to believe them.

“Safe.” Ilana reassured.

All the emotions Danny had kept buried the past three weeks spilled out. Tears mixed with laughter, anger mixed with fear. “Home!” He said again, relief a soft blanket that swathed him in safety. He grinned at Ilana. “I knew NASA was the coolest thing ever.”

“Oh, we are?” Ilana asked playfully, helping him pull the sleeve of his jumpsuit on while the still-unnamed man helped with the other side.

“I want to work for NASA.” He admitted. “Uh, er, uh, wanted to.” He corrected. “Before I died.”

“Well, in that case,” Arnold said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a card, which he handed to Danny. “Call me when you’re feeling better and healed up. A ghost working for NASA? You could accomplish a lot.”

Danny beamed at him in happiness, tucking the business card into his pocket.

As promised, within the hour, Danny was in Ilana’s car and they were making the drive to Amity Park.

To home.

~~~~~~

As soon as he walked into the door of FentonWorks (he’d had Ilana drop him off a few blocks away, he couldn’t walk much further than that), still Phantom as the suppressant hadn’t worn from his system yet, he saw his parents and friends, all looking exhausted and like they’d recently cried.

Sam saw him first. “Danny?”

His name got the others’ attention and all eyes turned to him.

The rest of the day was filled with happy tears and joy as they celebrated his return.

Tomorrow, he’d have a lot to answer for, a lot of healing to start doing. But for today, he was fine just being held and loved.

#danny phantom #grace writes #danny fenton #Guys in White #dannymay2023 #Day 24 #NASA #mind the warnings #I don't actually remember writing this #I'm trusting my beta on this one #I promise it's happy #Eventually?#Can you see the inspiration from Lex

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sputnikan · 10 months

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I finally finished translating my collection of obikin fanfics based on some quotes from the Song of Songs.

I'm very proud of everything I accomplished in this project and I'm very happy with the translations.

The first part "Enclosed garden, sealed fountain" is set in the Clone Wars, and is about the lengths Obi-Wan is willing to go through for Anakin.

The second part "The orchard and its fruits", set at the end of the war, is about how Anakin breaks all of Obi-Wan's physical and emotional limits.

The third part, which I just published today, "The mountain that was burning in flames", is set during OWK and the mystical union of Darth Vader and Obi-Wan after his transformation.

The quote that sums up this entire collection is the one that gives it its name: "It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away."

#obikin #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #ao3 #fanfiction #anaobi #mind the warnings #vaderwan

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jacenotjason · 5 months

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i wanted to keep this a secret until i finished some drawings but i got excited

the class of 31 thing is just an aesthetic i guess? theyre not actually in highschool, they just sort of think they are.

i will explain in greater detail when i actually have drawings lmao

#im nervous to post this #tw #mind the warnings #spookymonth #spooky month #spooky month au #class of 31 #spooky month class of 31 #class of 09 #streber #spooky month streber #spooky month kevin #spooky month radford #spooky month ethan #streber spooky month #kevin spooky month #radford spooky month #ethan spooky month

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dcartcorner · 11 months

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CW below the cut for: TMA spoilers (sort of?), character death, blood, probably out of character dialogue

just a sketch because i dont have the patience required to finish a comic ^^;

#tma #the magnus archives #fanart #comic #simon fairchild #peter lukas #simon/peter #mind the warnings

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writeforfandoms · 11 months

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And, if I may, Price fucking an aphrodisiac out of your system? Taking you off the field to a safehouse and having his way with you until you have to tap out? He does it, he says, to keep you alive, but he also won't let anyone else on the 141 to take the responsibility. He's your captain, it's him who has to do it

The door to the safe house closed behind you both and Price was tearing off his gear, unusually flustered.

"We're going dark," he told the others. "Stay on task, I'll contact you when we're clear." He turned off his radio and reached over to turn off yours too.

"Captain?" You blinked at him slowly, hazy, warmth coiling through you, thick and cloying. Too much. You couldn't think.

"I've got you," Price murmured, helping you strip your gear off. "You'll be alright." There was something a little wild in his eyes, though his hands were gentle.

You blinked, and he was stripping your clothes off of you, efficient and focused.

"Hey." You blinked at him again, one clumsy hand lifting to his cheek, indulging one of your longest fantasies. Scratching your fingers through his facial hair. "Gonna be okay."

"I should be telling you that." His lips twitched in a smile.

"You will." You sucked in a breath when he turned his head, nipping gently at your palm.

You missed the process of him getting the rest of you clothes off, and getting his own off. But you knew when he lowered you to the bed in the safehouse, the sheets scratchy against your back. You arched with a displeased whine.

"Hush, love." One big hand smoothed up and down your thigh, blue eyes almost black with desire. "Let me take care of you."

"Always do." You smiled slowly, pretty sure your own feelings were on blatant display, after years of hiding. "Trust you, sir."

He groaned softly and bent his head to his task, broad tongue licking a stripe up your slit. Somehow he was even warmer than the heat still building inside you, firm and relentless and perfect.

He didn't slow down until you'd broken apart twice on his tongue, writhing and gripping his hair and nearly crying from the stimulation.

"Eyes on me," he gritted out, one hand bracing him up over you, other hand gripping your thigh to pull it up over his hip.

You did your very best to focus on him, through the heat in your core and the aphrodisiac in your veins. You blinked away a sheen of tears, focusing on your captain.

You could always focus on your captain.

"That's my girl." His lips twitched in something close to a smile, still with that wild edge.

And then he fucked into you, hard and deep and relentless. You were completely caught between his cock and the gravity of his gaze, able to do nothing but hold on to him.

You kept your gaze on him through overstimulated tears and gasping breaths and sounds you didn't even know you could make.

Finally, finally, the heat inside you broke, leaving you shivering and wrecked and exhausted.

Price didn't collapse, quite, but he did manage to wedge himself in next to you on the bed, gathering you into his arms. He was trembling, just a little. Could have been exhaustion - he'd done a lot of work.

But it could have been more.

"Hey." You licked dry lips, one trembling hand lifting to his cheek, sweat-damp skin warm against your palm. "I'm okay."

"You will be." His arms tightened around you, blue eyes intense and not leaving yours.

"Thank you," you murmured on a sigh, eyes finally slipping closed.

Your captain didn't say anything, just held you tight and tucked you under his chin.

#thot weekend #john price x you #john price x reader #mind the warnings #18+

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massivewaffle · 2 years

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What’s In a Name?

Paring: GoodTimesWithScar/You (Gender Neutral) Word Count: 3715 Warnings: Daddy Kink Innuendo Rating: PG13/Teen (for innuendo) AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41777697

Summary: Scar returns to Hermitcraft after a personal best in MCC only to discover you've picked up on a particular nickname he's given himself.

A/N: This was going to be a short one-shot to make a few dumb innuendos and a High School Musical reference and then it grew like Scar’s chest monster. I’m very tempted to write a chapter two/second installment if anyone desires because Scar’s voice recording in Pearl’s new video has rendered me weak.

Stepping through the portal that connects Hermitcraft to the wider universe, Scar braces himself against the smooth obsidian, grateful for the cool stone beneath his palm. After a day of taxing situations, both physical and mental, quiet was what Scar craved. Minecraft Championships was something he looked forward to monthly, and he was happy and honored to be included, but he can’t deny the toll it puts upon his mind and body. This was his best MCC performance thus far, and he grins thinking of his 26th individual placement – his highest score yet. While the other participating Hermits returned to the server ages ago, Scar decided to stick around, needing to desperately burn off some pent-up energy by chatting with new friends. HBomb and Pete were such fun guys, and he socialized so little outside of Hermitcraft; it would be a waste to let those friendships fall to the wayside because of something as trivial as exhaustion.

Of course, as he takes his first shaky steps toward his home, he questions his decision-making ability. Who thought allowing him to make decisions was a good idea anyway?

It isn’t long before Scar stumbles to the entrance of his tree, taking a moment to wave hello to the ravager looming within the foliage down the path. A bath is what he craves, and he uses his remaining energy to barrel through his home, straight to the bathing area he’d set up, hidden from prying eyes. Not like anyone has actively pried on him, but a man can never be too careful on any server containing Zedaph and his spyglass.

Allowing the water to rush over him, Scar lolls his head back, thoughts drifting to the day now behind him. He had done his best and was pleased with the results of his practice. And, to be honest, he was even more pleased with everyone else’s praise of his newfound improvement. The tips you’d suggested to him had paid off tenfold, and Scar can only hope he is on an upward trajectory from here on out.

The recollection of practice slowly fades, leaving only thoughts of the one thing he had spent all day attempting to avoid focusing on; you. You had yet to get your invitation to MCC, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time now. Your skill speaks for itself, and if it weren’t for the already long waiting list, your name would have made it onto a team based on skill alone. Skills, Scar hates to say, he finds overwhelmingly attractive. He isn’t quite sure why watching you hit crits on mobs is so mesmerizing, but it is. He should probably unpack that one day, but today is not the day for introspection.

Pulling himself out of the bath before his thoughts take a turn, he dries off, heading to his bedroom to dress. Jellie lies across the middle of his bed - her bed, really - stretched in a way that seems physically impossible for a cat to take up so much room.

“Why, hello Jellie! How’s my girl doing? Did you miss me?” He asks, deft fingers scratching at her head as she pushes into his palm. Scar revels in the consistent purr she emits, immediately overwhelmed by a sense of comfort.

Tossing on some more casual attire, Scar shakes his head a few times, deciding to forgo drying his hair and allowing it to air dry. Jellie has abandoned him, jumping from his bed to a windowsill, enraptured by something beyond Scar’s field of vision. Scar’s not entirely sure what to do with himself now. Most of the Hermits will be preparing for their evenings, and he’s far too drained to begin working on a project. Perhaps a bit of fresh air will clear his mind.

Scar heads outside, resting in the cool shade granted to him by his build. Though it’s nearing dinner time and the traces of dusk are filtering in, the heat hangs heavy in the air. It’s not so much stifling as it is irritating; a sign that summer is finally on its way out but continues to clutch desperately to the world. He can vaguely hear Mumbo and Grian yelling not too far away and, for a moment, contemplates joining in their fun but shakes off the urge. He finds himself enjoying the white noise of the area, already maxed out after the roar of MCC. Leaning back into the stone adorning his home’s entrance, he takes a moment to close his eyes and savor the soft breeze, the shouts of his friends fading into the distance. He specifically built the door to his base this way, tucked downhill just enough where he can be outside but not necessarily be seen. Calm in the eye of the storm, a place of comfort, a home where-

“So, do I need to start calling you Sand Daddy now?”

Scar’s head jerks forward, lifting away from the entrance toward the source of your voice, eyes crinkling as he squints into the setting sun to make out your silhouette. He finally spots you a few feet away, back pressed into the wooden trunk of the acacia tree shrouding the area in patches of light and shadow. Scar’s exhaustion fades into the back of his mind as his eyes take you in, unable to tell if you’re there or if the effects of the day have simply caught up to him.

“Hello?” Scar asks, voice shaky.

“You did well.”

Ah. So that is you. Gathering himself quickly, Scar fires back.

“I’m sorry. Care to repeat that?” Scar is fully aware you can hear the smirk in his voice, and he’s banking on your annoyance to continue this conversation.

“Are you asking because you couldn’t understand or just to hear me praise you again?”

Scar doesn’t miss a beat.

“Does it matter?”

“Absolutely. I’m much more willing to clarify than compliment; you know that.”

“So you were impressed!” Scar exclaims. Crossing his arms over his chest, Scar shifts his weight to the right, allowing his shoulder to fall to the wall. Under the lanterns adorning his walkway, Scar looks mischievous, shrouded in shadow.

Scar sighs overdramatically, knowing it will humor you.

“And to think, here I was, thinking you would come and tell me I’m a parkour god, the true H0tGuY, the king of Rocket Spleef. Instead, I get a ‘you did well.’ How demoralizing after that amazin’ MCC practice we did.”

The quiet of Scar’s base allows him to hear you giggle, which is his goal in any situation.

“I assure you, I planned to come over here to shower you with praise regardless of the outcome, but then I watched MCC and heard everyone calling you Sand Daddy. I can’t beat that nickname; why even try?” You ask with a chuckle, descending the pathway to saunter directly into Scar’s eye line.

“Hey, I earned that one!”

You laugh as you raise your hands in defense, shifting onto your heels.

“I’m not arguing! Though you did kind of call yourself that, but I’ll let it slide. The practice absolutely helped. You guys killed it out there.” You admit, allowing your hands to drop to your sides as you look up to meet Scar’s eyes.

The soft breeze returns, tickling lightly on your skin yet heavy enough to blow a few errant hairs directly into Scar’s eyes. He attempts to flick them away with a snap of his head but fails, only bringing more into his line of sight. He huffs, shifting his gaze to the stray hair as if glaring at it will force it to behave. It’s wonderfully endearing, and the tips of his slightly pointed ears rush red with embarrassment.

“Do you really think I did well?” Scar says, eyes still trained on his own hair.

“I suppose you didn’t do too bad,” you offer with an exaggerated shrug, so he understands you’re teasing. Scar’s lip quirks just enough for you to know he picked up on it, but he stays silent. Clearly, he needs more convincing. You drop all pretense and speak in your normal voice, devoid of teasing.

“You did amazingly well. I was screaming my head off the entire event. We all were, to be fair, but I think I might have burst poor Stress’s eardrums during Rocket Spleef. Even the events you did so-so on were a vast improvement from your last MCC. People were talking about how they underestimated you. So yeah, I guess you did do well. You may even convince me to say I’m proud of you, but I’m not tired enough to let that one slip yet,” You joke, winking at him.

Even in the orange-hued light given off by the lanterns, Scar knows you can see the blush on his face. He’s not going to try and hide it; there's no point in covering for what he already suspects you know. Scar’s enamored with you, and any crumb of attention you’re willing to throw his way will have him on cloud nine for the next week. That little speech was enough to satiate him for the rest of the year. Face burning, Scar meets your eyes and is shaken by the soft gaze you’re returning to him. Gone is your trademark smirk, the glint of trouble that’s always simmering just beneath the surface. Here he sees you laid bare, and he can’t deny how happy he is that you spoke honestly.

“Thank you,” he manages to verbalize, “that means a lot.”

You scoff lightly. “Just speaking the truth. You shouldn’t be so surprised. You’re pretty impressive on an average day already.” You reply, voice with just a tinge more edge than before. “I mean that last round of Rocket Spleef; I didn’t realize you were such a show-off!”

It’s Scar’s turn to laugh now as he thinks back to that moment. His team was cheering for him, egging him on to show these kids how it’s done. He may be good with a bow, but anyone who wants to hit ultra peak velocity shots, as he calls them, needs to know how to dodge and weave with the best of them. Everyone in MCC is talented, but it was nice to show some of the PVPers they should try picking up an elytra once in a while.

“What can I say? Top Gun isn’t going to remake itself! Figured it was worth giving everyone a bit of a show.”

“Oh, you gave everyone a show, that’s for sure, H0tGuY,” you joke, taking a step closer to Scar. “It was nice seeing you confident out there. You looked good.” Your smirk remains, but there’s a new glint in your eyes. One Scar has seen in fleeting moments, but as you hold his gaze, the look burns through his very core.

“Did I now?” Scar asks, eyebrow quirked. Unsure he is reading this situation correctly, Scar attempts to stay on solid ground, but your compliments go straight to his head.

“Mmhm. How often do I have to say it before you believe it?”

“Roughly ten thousand more times. By then, we might get over the worst of it.”

“Hmm. Better get started. I’ll need a dictionary to satiate you, I think.” You joke, looking up at Scar through your lashes.

“I’ll order you one of those word of the day calendars for the holidays. Maybe you can use that for some inspiration!”

Laughing, you’re fully aware that Scar would do something exactly like that just to follow through on the joke.

“Wow, compliments and a challenge all rolled into one; you know me too well. All of my favorite things.”

“Two down, how many to go?”

“Oh c’mon, Scar, I’m sure you can figure that out for yourself, don’t you think?”

There’s a tension permeating the air, similar to when a thunderstorm is on the way, but nary a raindrop has fallen. A storm that has been building since this conversation started. Neither wishes to drop their gaze, but you look away first, eyes trailing down Scar’s face and over his body. Your eyes flick back up, a soft smile again playing on your lips. The space between you is respectable, close enough, but nothing improper, at least not yet. You lean forward just a tad, enough where you can make out the scent of Scar’s body wash but not crash into his chest.

“As a heads up, get some good rest tonight. I think Keralis will be waking us all up unfathomably early.” You say with a grin.

“Keralis? Why would he be gathering us all so early?” Scar asks, already counting back the hours from morning to determine what constitutes a good night’s sleep.

“Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but apparently, he wanted to celebrate how good y’all did today. Breakfast buffet at the Bamboo lounge. You know how Keralis loves to throw a soiree.”

“…Wasn’t she in High School Musical?’

“A soiree Scar, not Sharpay. A party. He’s throwing a party in the morning,” You reply, desperately attempting to hide your laughter and failing miserably.

“Ah. Well, that does make more sense. Though, oddly enough, if anyone were a friend of someone in that movie, I’d place a bet on Keralis.”

“I…I honestly can’t argue with you there.”

A peaceful silence falls as you exchange smiles. Scar shifts, crossing his arms again, and you can’t fight the urge to ogle the way his slender fingers lay across his bicep. Scar’s always been an attractive man, but you can’t deny he is far more toned than you noticed. The unexpected muscle paired with the soft, comfortable-looking tee and sweatpants combination he’s wearing sends your brain into overdrive. You’d helped him film Hotguy: The Siege, yet this was the most attractive he’s ever looked. Between the dressed-down outfit and the messy, fluffy hair Scar is currently rocking, the moment suggests domesticity. It’s cozy, one could say. Life is nice like this; warm and safe amidst the trees and dimmed lights of Scar’s base.

“Are you going to be there?”

Scar’s voice breaks you from your domestic daydreaming.

“Hm?”

“At the sharpay. Will you be honoring us with your presence?”

“While I usually loathe the BDubs early morning approach to life, I would never miss a Keralis breakfast. Keralis breakfast means one thing –“

“XB’s cooking,” you say simultaneously.

A smile creeps onto your face at the synergy you share.

“Plus, you’ll put on a good show.”

It’s Scar’s turn to look puzzled by your words.

“Good show?”

“Of course. I’m planning on a mimosa in one hand, XB’s French Toast in another, and watching you turn bright red every time a Hermit compliments you on your 26th placement, Sand Daddy.”

“Oh my god.”

“You’re doing it now!” You exclaim, throwing a finger into Scar’s flushed face. “A teeny bit of praise, and you get all blushy and shy. It’s fantastic. You go from Top Gun to Weird Science in a minute flat.”

“I’m so glad my suffering amuses you.” Scar’s deadpan delivery directly rivals the mirth in his eyes.

“Incredibly so.” You say with a wink. “But you deserve all the praise tomorrow, so be prepared for people to lay it on thick, Mister Rocket Spleef Rush Top 5 Finisher.”

Scar feels his face burning at your comments.

“So you did watch closely, huh?”

“Couldn’t let my H0TGuY down now, could I?” You ask, immediately wincing as your voice cracks.

“So I’m your H0TGuY now?” Scar says quickly, arms falling to his sides. “Works for me.”

You giggle, prepared to fire back with another witty comment when you catch Scar’s gaze. He’s giving you a look far too serious to be contested with banter. His eyes are scrutinizing you, and you feel nervous under their surveillance. It’s hard to maintain eye contact, especially as Scar tilts his head back for a moment to stretch his neck, jawline on display. You can feel his stare as your eyes trace the long line of his neck down to the scoop neck of his shirt, memorizing the pattern of every scar littering the area. His hair flops back down into his eyes as he realigns himself before you, clearly smirking as if he’s finally figured you out.

“You never answered my question, by the way,” you squeak, your voice breathier than intended.

Scar’s smirk grows as he tips his head to one side.

“Hm? And which question was that, troublemaker?”

“Do I need to start calling you Sand Daddy now?’ You ask, feigning bashfulness for a moment. “Or are you more into just part of that nickname” You trail off, eyes slowly dragging up Scar’s frame as you step into his personal space. When you finally meet his eyes, you’re only inches apart, and you find yourself swooning over the way Scar’s face scrunches in confusion, his teeth jutting out to bite at his bottom lip.

“Why would I want you to call me sand?”

God, you love this idiot.

Throwing all caution to the wind, you lean in, resting your forehead on Scar’s chest. Just as you imagined, his shirt is equally soft and thin. Thin enough, in fact, that despite the cool breeze, you can perceive his body heat radiating against you. Scar’s hands lift to rest lightly at your waist, unsure. Heart pumping, you turn your head to the side, lounging calmly against him as you speak.

“Not that one, Scar.”

“Well then, what do you…Oh.”

“Oh?”

“OH.”

Scar’s voice is breathless, and you swear you faintly pick up on his heart racing beneath your ear. A moment passes before his arms move, one delicately moving around your low back, the other raising to tilt your chin back.

“I can’t say I’d be opposed to that, but I’ve never tried it before.” Scar mutters. His voice drops a few octaves, and the inside of your brain feels like Joe’s pinball machine as his deep timbre bounces around. “But you know I’m always willing to practice.”

Scar looks at you for a moment, and you tilt your head toward him in a nod. Closing your eyes, Scar’s breath flits over your lashes as you wait for his lips to touch yours.

“SCAR, PLEASE INFORM GRIAN THAT NO, WARDENS ARE NOT GIFTS.”

“I’M JUST SAYING THEY COULD BE MUMBO!! YOU NEED TO EXPAND YOUR MIND!”

“WELL, YOU NEED A SERIOUS…”

You and Scar jump at the sound of voices coming up the walkway, separating as quickly as possible. You’re both noticeably flushed, practically panting from the anticipation of moments ago. Scar’s shirt is slightly crumpled from where your head rested, and you’re sure your ears are as red as Grian’s sweater. Sneaking a peek, Mambo and Grian stand a few feet away, staring wide-eyed in your direction.

“Grian, I feel as though we’ve interrupted a moment.”

“Was that a moment? “I would distinctly consider that a moment.”

“What kind of moment? Good moment? Bad moment?”

“Please stop talking.” Scar says, sighing, both palms pressed into his eyes. “Please, for the love of Jellie, stop talking.”

“Right. Well. Uh. I suppose we can discuss Wardens tomorrow, Scar. Let’s go!”

Grian’s rocket sets off before the words leave his mouth, soaring through Scar’s tree.

“Yes, well. Uh. Terrible sorry, friends. I’ll just be going.” Mumbo stutters, face quickly reddening. He fires his rocket to follow Grian’s exit, knocking into several branches before you’re sure he’s gone.

“I want to murder them.” Scar admits. “I love them dearly, but I also want to murder them.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “I think that’s how the entire server feels about them most of the time.”

Scar snorts and the two of you fall back into silence.

“Kinda killed the moment there.” Scar confesses. “Sorry about, y’know. Them.”

“It’s to be expected. Never a dull moment around here.” You respond with a smile and a shrug.

“Never thought I’d say this, but I think I’m ready for a few more dull moments around here.”

“Yeah? What a coincidence; I was just thinking the same thing.”

Scar looks up at the sky, a light smile pulling at his lips.

“Breakfasts are really dull, don’t you think? Honestly, whose favorite part of the day is breakfast?”

“Notoriously boring. Only a true demon would love waking up early for breakfast.”

“I completely agree.” Scar looks over to you, the sparkle returning to his eyes.

“So, I’ll meet you at your base in the morning? You have to wake up early to get the first batch of mimosas after all. Can’t have you oversleeping and getting a bad seat to the show.”

“I’ll set three alarms just in case.” You beam back at Scar, head filled with fewer nerves and more anticipation.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” Scar asks, but you wave him off.

“No, it’s fine; it’s a short walk. You had a busy day. You should get some rest.” Straightening yourself out, you return to standing in Scar’s personal space.

“Besides, you’ll need your energy tomorrow.”

“True. Breakfast will take a lot out of me, I’m sure,” Scar jokes.

“Mhmm.” You murmur, hands reaching for Scar’s own.

“Plus, we have a practice session scheduled for tomorrow. It seems we have some new things to try out.”

Scar’s eyes widen at your words, mouth opening and closing a few times before squeaking a response.

“Yes. Yes, of course. Practice makes perfect and all that.” Scar’s response is fewer words and more stream-of-consciousness rambling, but you find it adorable all the same.

“Goodnight, Sand Daddy.” Scar’s face is a mixture of amusement and adoration, your favorite. Popping up on your tiptoes, you quickly press a kiss to the corner of Scar’s mouth before dropping back down.

“Goodnight.” Scar whispers.

Turning to make your exit, you pause at the edge of Scar’s walkway to take one last look. Peeking out from behind your original Acacia tree spot, you’re secluded enough to be out of Scar’s eyesight. As Scar turns to reenter his home, he pumps his arm a few times in happiness, attempting what looks to be a little dance of joy. Rolling your eyes, you turn and head home, and for the first time in your life, you can’t wait to wake up early.

#Waffle Writes #Hermitshipping #hermitcraft x reader #goodtimeswithscar x reader #goodtimeswithscar x you #readerfic #mind the warnings #GoodTimesWithScar x Original Female Character

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green-socks · 2 years

Text

Dubious Times at the El Royale

Pairing: Miles Miller x F!reader

Summary: You have a major crush on your colleague Miles. One evening after a long shift Miles takes some new drug, and ends up thinking he's just having very vivid fantasies, when in reality you really are naked under him, even though you thought you knew better.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Please read these! This is over 18 only!! Unprotected PiV (we know better!), !!dubious consent due to Miles' drug use!!, an unknown/unspecified drug, loss of virginity, coming inside without permission. Reader has a lot of guilt over having sex before marriage because she was raised like that and the movie was set in the 60s and not like 2019, so. If these things make you uncomfortable, don't read, thanks! (All ends well tho so it's alright)

Notes: I have never written anything like this before, but something about Miles' face all bloody and pretty made me want to go a touch darker than usual? I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm experimenting. Fortunately, I can thank @hederasgarden and @lorecraft for being absolutely amazing betas and helping me make sense of all this. Love you! Special shoutout to @hederasgarden for listening me talk about this a lot and not hating me for it <3 Also I'm sorry about the silly title lmaoo

MASTERLIST

gif by the beautiful @a-reader-and-a-writer

You liked Miles Miller. Well, more than liked. Head over heels was probably a better way to describe it. He was so sweet and considerate, always so polite to you and everyone, and not to mention handsome. You often found yourself gazing at him from across the hotel lobby, completely lost in a daydream, until something jolted you out of it and you remembered where you were.

But Miles wasn’t all bright eyes and soft smiles. One time you had accidentally discovered his secret, the addiction he was trying to hide from everyone, and while you had been shocked, you also understood. You had heard how many veterans turned to drugs to deal with everything they had experienced in the war. You didn’t know if you could rightly judge him for that, since you couldn’t even imagine the horrors he must have seen.

Of course, you worried for him a bit, but didn’t want to seem overbearing. It wasn’t your place. You just tried to make sure you were always kind to him in return and helped around as much as you could. You wanted to make his life a little bit easier, make him smile more often.

You weren’t sure if he returned your feelings, though that didn’t stop you from dreaming about it. And sometimes you did feel like he maybe liked you back, but then again it was a little hard to tell for certain since he got easily flustered with most people anyway. Which you found totally adorable.

It had been a really long day. You were tidying up the very last of the rooms, but you were stumped. The previous resident had rearranged the room to their liking, apparently, and you were trying to move all the furniture back into their right places.

Thing was, you were only one person, and the furniture was pretty heavy. You would need help to be able to move them all. Everyone else had already gone home, it was just you and Miles, so you left to go get him. Surely the two of you could handle the furniture easily. Plus, you were thrilled at the possibility of spending more time alone with Miles.

Miles wasn’t at the front desk, so you went to check the storage room where he often went. And sure enough, there he was sitting on the floor.

It was clear from his face that he had taken something already. Probably not a lot, but some. He still looked fit to help you work though, so you asked him to come with you.

Miles even removed his jacket to lift and move the pieces of furniture, and you tried not to openly gawk while his surprisingly strong arms lifted the chairs you were unable to. It was making you feel quite tingly. The bed you moved together since it was so big, and afterwards, when the last piece was in its right place and you had changed the sheets, you collapsed on the bed. Just to rest your legs for a little while.

Miles sat down next to you, and when you turned to look at him, he was watching you with a strange expression on his face. You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking at all.

“What?” you chuckled.

“Uhm..” He pulled what looked like a cigarette out of his pocket. “A guest gave this to me earlier. I was thinkin’ of smoking it tonight.”

“Oh. Well, you can go ahead,” you shrugged, not really knowing if it was a good idea or bad to stay with him here, but you figured you could still talk while he smoked.

“He said it was somethin’ new, but that I would be sure to enjoy it,” he explained while lighting it.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” you asked carefully.

“Yeah- yeah he’s gotten me stuff before,” Miles said, giving a rueful smile. “And it can’t be worse than what I usually do.”

His voice was laced with guilt, and you felt bad for him. He clearly carried a lot inside him.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Though you didn’t know what exactly was okay, you still put a hand on his arm to show him you meant to comfort.

“You’re too good to me, you know,” Miles mumbled.

“Nonsense, Miles! Besides, you’re always so kind to me, too. I like you for it,” you finished shyly.

“You’re like an angel on earth,” he said wistfully, as if he didn’t notice he said it out loud.

You were getting well and truly flustered now. Did he really think that? You supposed the drug could be making him think that, but he didn’t seem that high yet. Plus, it would be a weird drug, making someone think something like that out of nowhere, wouldn’t it?

The smell of the drug was in the air now, and so was the smoke, wrapping around you both like a blanket. You felt quite relaxed, sitting here on the bed with Miles, talking quietly. It was nice. You even dared to get a little bolder with your flirting, trying to see if he would respond to it. He seemed more open in this bubble you two shared, with no one else around and the whole place quiet. Like he could forget about everything for a while.

You didn’t know where you found the bravery to put your hand on his thigh, just above his knee, as you leaned in closer and laughed at something he said. It seemed to have an effect on Miles, however. But instead of getting flustered like usually – well, he was still breathing harder and getting redder – he did something unexpected.

He kissed you.

He leaned in and put his mouth on you, and you forgot how to breathe for a second. You made a surprised noise, but once the shock wore off you quickly kissed him back. It was somehow both sweet and desperate at the same time. You grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him closer to you, which made you topple backwards on your back, effectively pulling Miles on top of you. Both of you let out a little oomph but didn’t stop kissing.

You didn’t plan on deepening the kiss, or rolling your hips against his instinctively, but it happened all the same. It was as if your body knew what it wanted before your brain did, and it all seemed to light a fire inside Miles.

Before you knew it, he was taking off your apron and your work dress, and it didn’t quite occur to you to stop him. Especially not when he ripped off his own shirt, revealing his pale skin to you. How were you supposed to think rationally when he was kissing his way down to your breasts, and you felt yourself getting all slippery between your legs? How were you supposed to remember this was a sin when it felt so good? How were you ever not supposed to give in when the boy you liked was looking down at you like that?

Or when he gasped, “This can’t be real. This is a dream.”

You giggled breathlessly and told him that it was real, though you had trouble believing it yourself.

However, when Miles started opening his trousers and you came face to face, so to speak, with his arousal, the hazy cloud of lust lifted somewhat. This wasn’t how you had imagined your first time to go, though you had dreamed it would be with Miles, oh you had dreamed it many times, it was in a very different setting. Somewhere romantic, and when you were already at least engaged.

You knew it was wrong to want this now. You should wait. It wasn’t right. But you wanted him so much, you did.

“Miles.. we– we shouldn’t.. you know,” you bit your lip, looking up at him.

But at the same time his hand had found its way to touch you between your legs, and your words trailed off as Miles groaned loudly, as if he was the one getting touched like that.

“So perfect.. Not real,” he whispered.

Miles slid one finger inside you, making you gasp. He moved his finger back and forth, like you sometimes did when you were alone, but it felt so different like this. So much more.

It felt so good, and Miles was clearly enjoying it as much as you were. He was moaning loudly, his eyes screwed shut, and you couldn’t deny it all added to your excitement. He was so handsome.

Your lust addled brain screeched into a halt though when you felt the press of something considerably larger than his finger at your entrance.

“M-miles,” you stammered. “We should wait..“

But Miles wasn’t hearing you. He seemed as if in a trance, eyes still screwed tight shut, his body trembling slightly as he pushed himself inside your tight heat, just that first inch.

“Miles,” you squeaked, feeling it sting as he stretched you.

“Ohhhh, god, so perfect. My sweet, perfect angel. I never wanna hurt you,” he panted.

You squirmed, trying to adjust to him, which made him groan again. It seemed that he was speaking the truth about not wanting to hurt you however, because when he was finally all the way in, he stopped, hips flush against you.

“So perfect, so good, feel so good around me, better than anythin’. I could never deserve you,” he blabbered, pressing kisses on your skin wherever he could reach.

You were feeling so torn. This wasn’t how you planned it, this shouldn’t be happening, but Miles really seemed to enjoy it, and you didn’t know what to do.

And then he started rocking into you, and your whole world shifted.

It was shameful. You were so ashamed, you were raised better than this, but heavens above, you liked it. It felt good. The slight sting of pain was no longer there, and instead you felt warmth spread all through your torso. Your emotions were all over the place, your brain telling you a different story from your body.

“Miles, we should stop, it’s not right,” you whispered, covering your face with your hands.

Again, it seemed he didn’t even hear you – instead his thrusts picked up pace, and he kept moaning breathlessly, “So good, oh, my angel, I dream of you every night.”

His words made you shiver, and you felt like you were going out of your mind. The feeling only got stronger as he sneaked a hand between your bodies where you were joined, circling his fingers over the bud at the apex.

You felt your whole body buzzing at the feeling, and you knew what would happen next. He was going to make you reach that peak whether it was right or not. Worse, you wanted him to. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably now, and you felt tears in your eyes, though you weren’t sure if they were because it felt so good or because it was so wrong.

“Miles, shit, you’re gonna make me– It’s–“

The rest of what you were going to say got cut off as you gasped and whimpered, feeling the tide take over, and you were helpless to do anything but surrender to it.

Miles panted open-mouthed moans into your neck as you orgasmed, but he didn’t slow down. No, he only picked up his pace, and it was clear he was aiming for his own peak now.

That’s when you heard a car door slam in the parking lot.

“Miles!” Your eyes flew open. “There’s a guest coming, they could come here and oh Miles someone could see!”

Your sweet Miles was fully lost to the pleasure, however – his hips kept ramming into you, hard, all the while his cries got even louder.

“Ohh god, you’re so perfect, you’re gonna make me come!”

“Miles!” you gasped.

“I love to hear you say my name, angel,” he moaned.

“Miles you can’t finish inside me!” He was on top of you so completely you could hardly move, let alone jostle him enough to make him pull out.

And amidst all this, you had the thought of how you’d give anything to have his child, if it were under different, more secure, circumstances. You felt so dirty. Why did you like this so much, even when you knew you shouldn’t have done it in the first place? You whimpered his name one last time as his whole body shook, and he cried out his release into your neck.

Tears pricked in your eyes. You were so overwhelmed with guilt and the slowly fading desire. How could you have done this?

“Miles we have to get up, there’s a guest waiting, come on.”

Apparently now finally mindful enough of not crushing you, Miles slid out of you, making you whimper again. He collapsed on the bed next to you, still panting. You were still in shock, trying to process everything that had happened, blinking up at the ceiling. You knew there could be consequences for doing something like this, especially out of wedlock, but you hadn’t been able to care about that in the moment. Even though you had been taught to do so all your life.

The spiraling thoughts were interrupted when you heard the bell from the front desk ringing again. Then you jumped into action, frantically pulling your work dress back on and scurrying out of the room. You couldn’t deal with this right now, there was a guest waiting and if you stopped to think about what just happened you might freak out a bit. Thinking of things like what did this mean and does he love you and what will happen next, so it was better to just get back to work.

Miles didn’t show up again for the rest of your shift that evening, but you found him absolutely freaking out behind the front desk when you came to work the next day. All the turmoil of the previous night flew out of your head the moment you saw him in distress like that.

“Miles? What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

He turned to look at you, face all scrunched up in worry and like three different kinds of pain.

“You– You left your apron in that room. I woke up in there and was all alone but there was your apron and.. what happened?” he whispered, looking a little bit terrified of what the answer would be.

Your stomach dropped all the way to the floor. Oh no, this was so much worse. Was he really so high he didn’t even remember?

“Y-you don’t remember? What we…. did,” you gulped on the last word.

“We did?!” he cried, making you jump a litte. You’d never heard him so loud, and even after last night that was saying something.

“You mean I wasn’t– That I– It was real??”

“Felt like that to me,” you croaked feebly. This was all kinds of horrible. Maybe he hadn’t even really wanted you. Maybe he’d thought you were someone else. Oh god. You would have to leave the country. This was so embarrassing.

Miles fell out of sight behind the corner. Thinking he had fainted or something in shock you rushed to open the countertop to get to him.

He was on his knees on the floor, tears in his eyes and his chin quivering.

“I am so, so sorry. I can’t believe I did that to you. I thought I imagined it all, but when I woke up and you was gone and your apron and the smell.. and I thought maybe it was real after all and I am so sorry. I swore to myself I’d never hurt you. I swore I’d keep away; I couldn’t deserve you,” he babbled as the tears now leaked out of his eyes.

“I swear I didn’t realize, I thought I was just alone and…. well.. you know… It seemed more vivid than usual but I still never believed it could have been real,” he sniffled.

That part gave you pause. More vivid than usual? He had thought he’d been alone and just fantasizing? As in, he has done that while thinking of you? More than once? Did he do it often?? Your mind was buzzing with questions.

“You don’t have to forgive me, but I’ll do anythin’ to show you I’m sorry. We should of course get married–”

“Now back up just a minute, Miles,” you sternly stopped his rambling.

His head snapped back up, those teary eyes looking up at you now.

“I like you, but I do not want you to shotgun yourself into marrying me. That’s not how I want my marriage to happen.”

You kneeled on the floor opposite him.

“And yeah, I do appreciate the apology, because that would explain some things, maybe, that you were too high to know what was real… But also, in case you don’t remember – and maybe you don’t – I did like it. A lot, actually. Sure, I was really ashamed, too, because I shouldn’t have liked it, we definitely shouldn’t have done it. For god’s sake, we aren’t even together, let alone married or even engaged.. and at work!” You took a deep breath before continuing. “But it was you. Of course I still wanted it.”

Miles’ sniffles had quieted, and he was looking at you with a wide eyed expression.

“I had imagined it going a little differently.. like we’d have at least several dates first and–”

“We could still do that,” Miles blurted out, a little desperate. “If-if you wanted to. You probably don’t, what am I thinkin’, especially after that..” he trailed off.

“It would be a bit of a backwards approach, but maybe we could try a date and see what happens?” you tried to suggest tentatively.

“You mean it?”

You nodded and smiled. “I’d really like that.”

“I promise I won’t touch you again until I’ve at least given you a ring. And I promise I’ll never get high again. I won’t do that again.” His jaw was set, and he had a flushed determination on his sweet face.

“It’s okay, Miles. One step at a time,” you smiled. “We’ll figure it out.” You leaned in to kiss his still wet cheek.

And then you heard the sound of a car from the parking lot again, reminding you of where you were. But this time when you jumped up and straightened your dress to get ready to greet the customer, you did so with a much lighter heart and a genuine smile.

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tagging: @skvatnavle

#miles miller x reader #miles miller x you #miles miller #bad times at the el royale #i still don't know what i'm doing #i accidentally wrote something #lewis pullman #mndi #mind the warnings

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duskyashe · 1 year

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NaNoWriMo Day #3

[masterlist] [part two] [part three]

Prompt found here

Warnings: Brief description of body dysmorphia, brief description of a panic attack, use of Zalgo text, please proceed with your mental health in mind (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

=============‹«⟨•·∆·•⟩»›=============

The pit rage was bad tonight. He wasn't sure what triggered it, it hadn't been this bad since he nearly killed the Replacement, and that… that scared him. He'd worked long and hard to get control of his pit fueled outbursts after that incident. The memory of Timbers' fear was usually enough to knock him out of the rage, but for some reason, this time it wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough to chase out the rampant thoughts endlessly screaming in his head, this isn't right this isn't right I'm not right I̵'̴m̴ ̷n̴ơ̴̇̊̏͜ṯ̷͉̞̫̋̔̏ ̷̠̀̍͐ȑ̸̝̥̙̈́͠i̷̬͙̋̅́̚g̷̙̍͂h̶̡͙̀ẗ̸̮͝ n̷̨̼̤͇̖͇̱͂̍́̌̿ö̵͕̰̼͙̥̆͜t̵̢̛̥̤̓̅̄̌ ̶̖͉͎̓r̶͇̫̜͉̙͑̓ͅȉ̸̬͌g̸̹̪̍͋͊́͝h̴̰̞̥̦͖̜̩̎t̵̢͈̙͋̄̈́̌͘͝ ̶̰̖̜̪̳̦̽̓̕͝͝ͅn̶͕̺̯̣̜͠o̸͇͇̾̽͆͛́͋͝t̸̳̠̠̊ ŗ̴̡̬̘̬̜̗͈͎̠̎̅͐͊̓̚͘ḭ̸̡̧̛̘̠̘̯̏͒̑͝g̷̳͈̩͔̜͈̰̯̱̓̓̇́̀͒̇̓̔͘ͅh̶̡̧̡̡̪̹̒͌̀̇̀̒̌̑̕͝͝t̵͓̺͗́͌͊̀̊̄͊͂ ̸̧̥̦̺̯̪̱̤̖̭́̽̒̎͒͛̓̓͛̚ṇ̸̛͍͔͎̹͉̹͌͐̀̊̿͆̈́̕ò̵̱͌̍̋̑̀t̴̡̡̮̞̠̳̫͔̗̘̀͛̏͌̐̅͋́͝ͅ ŗ̴̨̡̗͔͓͈̦̜̘͍̪͔̜͔̓̓̈̄͛̓̈́̇̽͂̔̀̾͠ͅi̶̢̧̮̟̰̘̬̩̦̦̫̞̹̭̙̖͚̒͐͗̿̉͂̿̏̈́̀́͘͘͝g̶̢̡̬͎̬̫̩̱̫̤̤̮̫̯̹̅̋̈́̑̆̒̒͐̔͐̓͠h̴̛̩̟̽̍̌͌͋̉̆̔̈́̀͋̏̎͋̈̈̚͘̕͝͠ẗ̸̡̨̢̢͈̤̹̜̝͔̜͇͉̻̦͇͎̥́̀̍̃̌̃͛̀͐͊̐̾͗͊̽̈̋̚̕͜—he wanted to scream, but all that came out was a strangled gasp and an increasingly pervasive feeling of wrongness.

He couldn't explain it, couldn't begin to describe why everything about himself just felt wrong, why his guns both helped and made it ten times worse. He was spiraling out of control and he knew it, but he refused to put that look of fear on some kid's face tonight, which meant locking himself up in his current safehouse instead of going on patrol and trying to keep the overall destruction to a minimum.

It certainly wasn't ideal, but going anywhere tonight was an even worse idea. I'm not gonna become another kid's biggest nightmare, not again not again not again not right ̷n̴ơ̴̇̊̏͜ṯ̷͉̞̫̋̔̏ ̷̠̀̍͐ȑ̸̝̥̙̈́͠i̷̬͙̋̅́̚g̷̙̍͂h̶̡͙̀ẗ̸̮͝ n̷̨̼̤͇̖͇̱͂̍́̌̿ö̵͕̰̼͙̥̆͜t̵̢̛̥̤̓̅̄̌ ̶̖͉͎̓r̶͇̫̜͉̙͑̓ͅȉ̸̬͌g̸̹̪̍͋͊́͝h̴̰̞̥̦͖̜̩̎t̵̢͈̙͋̄̈́̌͘͝ ̶̰̖̜̪̳̦̽̓̕͝͝ͅn̶͕̺̯̣̜͠o̸͇͇̾̽͆͛́͋͝t̸̳̠̠̊—

"Chirp?" Everything froze. The raging pit stilled, his racing thoughts stopped, his frantic rocking halted. What—? "Chirrup." Feelings, emotions, things he didn't know he was missing but felt so impossibly right came surging to the forefront at that soft sound and Jason found himself flirting with whiplash, trying to find the source of it. Where—? There. Standing hesitantly in the doorway of his room, a black haired, blue eyed boy stood staring at him in concern. The kid shifted on his feet slightly now that Jason's full attention was on him, but instead of tensing and running, the kid relaxed and shuffled forward a little. "Cheep? Chirreep?"

Jason pulled in a shuddering breath and, following some unknown instinct, responded. "Chirp. Chirrup. Cheet." Tears streamed down his cheeks as, finally, something in his chest he hadn't even realized was tense started relaxing. It wasn't perfect, but it was so much better than even his best days at controlling the pit rage.

Shakily, he reached a hand out to the kid, a sob tearing its way out of his throat. He… he needed something, he wasn't sure what, but the kid had something to do with it. Thankfully, that seemed to be just what the kid was waiting for, as he darted over and knelt down within easy reach, but without touching him. He looked like he wanted to hug him, but wasn't sure if that'd be appreciated, which, y'know, fair, but with the kid so close, Jason realized that he wanted that hug, badly. Since the kid didn't seem to want to push his luck, though, it looked like it was up to Jason.

Slowly, telegraphing his movements so the kid could see what he was doing and decide if it was actually something he was okay with, Jason put his arm around the kid's shoulder and, after a short pause when the kid briefly tensed before he just melted into the touch, he drew the kid into a massive hug. Again, the kid tensed just ever so slightly at the sensation, but he quickly melted into it, and soon enough he was returning it with just as much fervor as Jason was putting into it. Soon enough, Jason wasn't the only one crying, and the two of them were cheeping and chirping at one another between sobs.

He honestly lost track of time, sitting there wrapped around the shivering and sobbing kid, but by the time both of their tears had started to dry and their breathing had calmed down, Jason was both more emotionally rung out than he'd been in a long time, but also more at peace than he'd ever been in his life. The directionless rage, which had been a constant burning inferno in the back of his mind since his dip in the pits, was the calmest it had ever been. His thoughts were settled, there wasn't an overwhelming sense of wrongness anymore, and he could feel things in a way he hadn't realized he needed in order to feel grounded, to feel safe. And it was all thanks to the kid, who—who had fallen asleep in his arms, sleepy chirps and whistles falling from his lips every so often, his eyes red and swollen from crying so much, and a fist full of Jason's shirt.

As relaxed as the kid was in sleep, that hand held onto Jason's ratty Wonder Woman t-shirt like a safety line. "Looks like you're not gonna let me go any time soon, huh, kid?" Jason whispered, running a hand through unruly black hair. The kid nuzzled further into Jason's chest as the sensation, letting out a happy little trill before trailing off back into his sleepy whistles. Jason smirked slightly at the sight and decided to just get comfy where he was. "Yeah, me neither. You ain't getting rid of me now, kiddo." He may not know where the kid came from or how he managed to get into his safehouse without tripping any of his alarms, but they could talk about that in the morning. For now, Jason was going to enjoy not having to consistently fight his own thoughts and emotions.

The kid didn't seem to have a good home life, or even just a place to call home, going off his clothes, which were a dirty mix of too big and much too small, and the size of the bags under his eyes spoke to how much sleep he'd had recently, or rather the lack thereof. The kid practically screamed runaway, and Gotham wasn't known for being kind to street kids. He'd have to confirm his suspicions in the morning, but he was willing to bet the kid was running from something big if he was willing to risk slumming it on these streets. Something flared in his chest, which made him tense in wariness, too used to flare-ups of pit madness, but this was different. It didn't feel like pit madness at all, didn't feel mindless or aimless, rather, it felt protective in origin. Like he'd do anything to keep the kid tucked into his chest safe; it felt like there was more to it than that, but what that more was, was anyone's guess.

Later, he firmly told himself as he shook his head. He took a deep breath and ran his hand through the kid's hair again, his smirk growing into a small smile as another little trill escaped. He'd worry about what happened tonight later. Right now, he was just going to rest and relax. Jason paused, though, tensing slightly as he noticed something. He… was he purring? As soon as he realized it, the slight rumbling in his chest stopped. Huh. Apparently he could purr, now, too, in addition to the chirps he and the kid had exchanged earlier.

A sudden, sharp, "Chirrrrup!" startled him and kick-started Jason's purr. A sleep dazed eye glared up at him for a second before the kid relaxed back into sleep, nuzzling pointedly at the spot his purr seemed to originate from, making Jason bite back a fond chuckle. The kid knew what he wanted and how to get it, that was for sure. He sighed and relaxed again, shifting a bit into a more comfortable position for both of them. The kid was right, though, the purring was a nice touch. Jason let out a jaw cracking yawn and settled down. With how they were clinging to each other, he'd easily notice if the kid woke up before him. He'd get his answers in the morning. For now? He was going to sleep.

=============‹«⟨•·∆·•⟩»›=============

Okay, so for this one, I originally was going to add a second scene from Danny's POV, but my brain wasn't cooperating in any way, shape, or form after I finished Jason's POV, so I ended up just ending it here. It's more balanced in the hurt/comfort aspect than I wanted, but I also needed Jason's pain to feel real, and this was the result! I'm not really complaining, I just wanted more comfort ¯⁠\⁠_⁠༼⁠ ⁠ಥ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠ಥ⁠ ⁠༽⁠_⁠/⁠¯ but yeah! This one will probably end up with a sequel at some point (maybe some time this month, maybe sometime in December, who knows) cuz I really want to write Danny's POV of this, especially the morning after and going forward. So don't give up hope!

I just wanted to thank everyone who's been liking and reblogging my previous two prompt fills! You guys are too sweet, honestly (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Also, if anyone feels like I missed a needed warning, please let me know! I sometimes miss them in my excitement to share my writings with the world...

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zazrichor · 1 year

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🕯️🩸 | cover art for @trappedfanzine | ☠️👻

Get the free zine here!

#it is still available and free!#word of honor #procreate #rebelle #zazrichart #wen kexing #trapped fanzine #horror #mind the warnings #thank you for accepting me AND offering me the cover!!#it was such a fun ride!

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grogusmum · 1 year

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JANUARY: Quiet Moon

OBERYN MARTELL X F!READER

W/C 1520

WARNING: suggestions of sex, but this is a fade-to-black situation. TW reader cuts hand purposefully for a ritual. Mention of blood, not explicitly described. Oberyn. He will forever need his own warning.

A/N Welcome to my January installment for @yearofcreation2023 (a fantastic notion by @oonajaeadira.)

Oops forgot some thank yous!! Big thanks to @writeforfandoms and @radiowallet for reading when I was not so sure.💚

He had been sent as a representative of Dorne to Winterfell of all places. Cold weather clothes had been made for him especially, so he could wear Sunspeares colors even if he was not in their traditional fabrics. But despite the best efforts of the tailor or the weight and itch of his garments, he is still cold. His day was spent in dark stone rooms, listening to men prattle. Speaking in the code of politics. All platitudes and vibrato, all the while saying nothing, for fear of giving up weakness or need. He hates it.

Oberyn pulls at the fur collar of his coat.

What am I doing here? This is worse than I could have imagined.

No need for a soothsayer to foretell his evening will be spent eating heavy dishes, drinking dark beer, and listening to more pomposity. His only consolation, find someone to warm his bed.

At the entrance of the great hall, he takes his hand away from his collar, cracks his neck, and saunters in with his usual swagger. Oberyn takes in the room. It is warmer than he anticipated but dark. Those in attendance huddle in groups at their tables around candles. He ventures to open his coat, and an usher approaches, offering to take it.

“Thank you, Oberyn murmurs with a catlike smile, “and what are you called?”

“Barroth, my lord,” he says, coming behind Oberyn to free his shoulders from the garment. Folding it over his arm, Barroth leads Oberyn to his chair, pulling it back for him.

“Thank you again Barroth,” Oberyn smiles more widely, though he has decided the usher is perhaps a bit young to pursue.

He is seated at the table for visiting dignitaries and is surrounded by the boresome men he had to spend the day listening to pontificate and politic. So his eyes quickly roam the room. Below his table is a table far livelier than his. He can not hear them, for the buzz of conversation around him. But he enjoys the energy. He watches one woman in particular, she seems serious but not without humor. She laughs with her neighbors, her eyes lighting up with mirth at someone's jest, then becomes observant and quiet. Listening. Her eyes land on him twice, their eyes connecting and both times he feels something. Just a tug of interest and attraction.

Soon, he is forced to engage with his table mates, and when he looks for her at the end of the feast, she is nowhere to be found.

You gather up some amber coals from your fire in a scuttle. Bundling up some tinder and split logs under one arm, the scuttle in the same hand. Then grabbing your staff in the other. Making your way out of the castle, outside the walls, and into an open field. You move quickly, the moon is rising and you have work to do. After building your fire, you add the hot coals, it takes but a little of your breath to set the ambers aglow and bring them back to life. Taking off your heavy cloak, you pick up your staff and cast your circle clockwise 'round the fire, and begin the ritual.

Scenting the fire with wormwood, wolfsbane, and vervain-

"Wormwood for protection in troubled times, wolfsbane for warning, may we drive out treachery and vervain for carom, may our enemies reap what they sow."

The Prince of Dorne, though displeased to be alone, was glad to be in his chamber. Tossing and turning in his empty bed, suddenly he pushes the bedclothes back. Giving in, scoffing he slips into soft shoes to protect from the cold stone floor, and pads his way to the small room with the chamber pot. Unlike the bed chamber with its heavy curtains and shutters bracing against the cold, its one narrow window has no coverings. The room is bright as day, though the light is a cool silver.

After relieving himself, he looks out over the snow; blue-white and sparkling. He can finally see some beauty in it. Then a figure crosses the grounds, cloak rippling behind them. In one hand a pail with a warm glow coming from it, in the other, a staff.

Intrigued, Oberyn dresses and pursues.

Seeing the figure make the small fire and casting aside their cloak, he shivers violently at the very thought, and then they cast a circle. He can hear the cadence, but not the words. He knows a solitary rite has begun, it seems to be protective in nature as watches them, you, work.

Your arms reach above, to the moon, and Oberyn nears on silent feet, watching your form. The light of the fire passes through your cotton shift and sets your silhouette aglow.

"To the unnamed gods, I beseech, and give my offering."

You pull a silver crescent-shaped knife, and with a quick slice on your palm, you make your offering, several drops of blood to the fire. Suddenly the sky lights up with colors, the Aurora Borealis. Oberyn staggers back, awe painting his features. He has never seen such a thing. After a moment his eyes come back to you.

You press on the small wound to stop the bleeding and murmur-

“This is my wish and my will, so mote it be.”

Oberyn waits, not wanting to interfere. Eyes going to the green and purple streaked sky, then down to you. But he was drawn in, your voice, your silhouette, and something he could not mark. Suddenly, baying can be heard from Wolfswood. It is only then that he realized how silent it had been during your ritual.

"May I?" He says, once he can see you have finished. He pulls a handkerchief from within his coat.

"You may enter," reminding yourself to open yourself to the offerings of the gods, as you watch this man, seemingly clothed in the sun, approach the fire. His eyes are black like coal and radiate heat just the same.

Oberyn can feel a shift as he steps into the sacred space. Then stepping into yours, he places the fabric across your palm and turns your hand as though it is the most exquisite and delicate of things. Once he knots the ends of the scrap of fabric, his dark eyes leave your hand and land on yours.

"Sorceress. Did I not see you at the feast earlier? I find myself drawn to you, what magic do you perform this night?" Oberyn closes any distance left.

"I beseech protection for my people. I do not pull at anything for any reason, save this- if you are here to help Winterfell. The people of the kingdom of the North?"

"My brother, the ruling prince of Dorne, has sent me as an envoy from Sunspear." His hands land firmly on your hips. Bold, but you allow it.

"That tells me nothing, my lord."

Prince Oberyn chuckles, Oh I like you, he thinks "Perhaps, I must attend tomorrow's meetings with more interest. If you are returning to the Keep, perhaps you would allow me to escort you? You can tell me about the lights in the sky...”

“Thank you, my lord, I would be happy to,” you give a slight bow.

“Oh enchantress, please. You need not bow to me, or address me such. I am Oberyn.”

“Very well,” you stutter infinitesimally, “Oberyn.”

You cover the fire in the snow, gather your staff, and scuttle, which Oberyn promptly takes from you and offers you an elbow. Accepting it, you give him your name.

“It may do me well, to hear an account of the troubles the North is facing without all of the politics,” the prince says, adding with a cheeky smile,” and find an activity to stave off the cold.”

You reign in the fluster caused by the prince's addendum.

“Winterfell is built on a hot spring, compared to seats like Castle Cerwyn or White Harbor, it is quite warm.” You are the picture of earnestness

Oberyn gives a hearty laugh.

“Alright, it is less cold then,” you laugh and then boldly add, “never the less, I may be able to accommodate both entreaties.”

You make your way to your chamber explaining the ongoing difficulties your kingdom has endured. You open the door and invite him in, but he holds your arm, keeping you in the passageway.

“I am sympathetic to the struggle of your Kingdom. And will impart the messages of Winterfell and you, to my brother… but, I do not know that I was called by your magic. Your charms beguiled me before this moon ritual. I watched you at the feast, and found myself… interested in getting to know you better"

"Is that right?"

“It is. I want it to be understood. That you do not need to do anything with me, for the benefit of the kingdom of the North. My interest in you is completely separate from my interest in your earnest call to the gods for aid. I hope Dorne can be of service, of course”

“Well, that is a relief, because I am sure I am quite useless-”

“Now, now. None of that,” Oberyn’s smile is sinful, and his voice is like honey, as he dips his head to kiss your sultry lips.

As your lips meet, his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in. Pressing fully against you, he leads the way into the room, puts the pail down, and shuts the heavy door.

THANKS FOR READING! 💚

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