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yvnaology · 23 days

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˖ ݁ . ࿓ DROWNED IN REALITY’S GAZE ( AVENTURINE. )

🎬 premise. in his reflection, he saw eyes harboring secrets, and lines mapping tales of triumph and struggle. in our reflection, he saw shared laughter, whispered promises, and the unspoken language of devotion. in his reflection, he saw a man of solitude with stoic resolve, a man that has truly — lost everything. [ late bday gift for @aventurne :D ]

In a pool of water, Aventurine stared into the depths of the substance — watching as he combed back his unruly blonde hair. His eyes loomed over as he witnessed another “him” in the azure liquid performing the same action.

Despite others' inability to perceive a difference between the two, stating that it's merely a copy of himself lingering in the waters, he disagrees with that statement wholeheartedly. Even when decorated with the finest fabrics and leather shoes, his eyes narrow at the sight of himself, scoffing before walking in the opposite direction. A mockery of the person he’d become is what puddles of water resembled to him. A harsh reminder, a cold greeting, the feeling is worse than chains binding him to the ground — worse than hands creeping onto his skin only to scar it.

A lost man in rags, dirtied hair filled with sin. It is a lost man in expensive clothing, drowned in gold, with his hair combed and high-quality items adorning his person, yet he is still filled with sin. Keeping one hand behind his back, he could feel it trembling as he grasped it. The twitching of his fingers would forever remain a hallucination, the hesitation to move them anymore clouding his brain before he stopped clutching it into a fist. He released the tension from his joints — allowing his hand to rest on his side.

That same hand rested in yours, a choice between left and right — yet you chose the one that almost flinched on instinct with every contact. “Is something wrong?” you would inquire in a mellow tone, caution evident in your voice. Every syllable was full of vigilance, a gentle rub of the back of his palm.

“Of course not, what made you think otherwise?” he’d do a dramatic wave of his hand, stare at you with a cunning grin full of falsity — intertwine your fingers as a sign of assurance, and hope you believe him. He’s okay, he’s fine — the hole that swallowed him spit him out a long time ago, he’s free.

(Don’t let it shake, don’t flinch, don’t allow anything that could indicate that you’re not fine.)

“Are you.. certain?” your gaze was one he would fail to understand, what could he have possibly done to earn it? He was scarred, buried under sand, lacking the certainty you craved desperately. Your hand reached out to cup his cheek, watching as his eyes slowly shut.

An alleviated smile graced his lips, not even you could discern what his inner voice was muttering — was it tormenting him? Screaming to allow him a moment of having a loose tongue, even? “I’m certain.”

(You’re such a liar.)

You felt him lean his head downwards until his cheek was fully against your palm. The skin was slightly rough, for your knowledge that the not-so-presumptuous man’s external battles allowed you to swipe your thumb across his cheek.

I wonder what’s going on in that head of yours, Kakavasha. You sighed, before pressing a chaste kiss to his nose. Will you ever allow me to peek into your bridled mind?

Adjusting his clothing during early mornings was one of your favorite activities, lighting and brushing the fabric to ensure the lack of wrinkles — making sure the collar of his shirt was neatly folded, all while sneakily snatching his hat and placing it onto your head.

“How do I look?” you’d stand proud, gripping the edges of the hat until you found a comfortable position.

“Wonderful, you likely outclass me wearing it.. not something I’d ever willfully admit.”

The chuckle that escaped your lips wasn’t too mellow or too boisterous, containing the sweetness of your voice that he sought after every morning. “That so?”

A gentle kiss to his cheek, a reminder that your presence was the soothing medicine he never thought he’d acquire. You gently grabbed hold of his hands, bringing him towards you until the mirror captured both your positions. Your very essence would never be able to be captured, not even by your other “self” shown in the glass.

The longer his gaze lingered on the surface, the more his mind felt as if it would shut down. His emotions were a complexity not even you could solve, your love was the greatest treasure he’d ever found — but was it enough to relieve the ache in his chest at the sight of the other “him”?

Perhaps if he held onto you tighter, that ache would magically fade. It was a gamble, one he was all too familiar with — his hold on you tightened, only slightly. Are you afraid to let go?

(No, that can’t possibly be it.)

You took it as a mere loving gesture, unaware of how he swallowed his words at that moment to make sure he could breathe properly.

(Breathe, everything’s fine — it will all work out in your favor.)

Everything did not work out in his favor.

The next time he saw his reflection in the mirror, it was shattered — pieces of glass fell and landed on the wooden tiles. A representation of the shape of his soul, battered and bruised, shattered and unable to be repaired even with all of the pieces. A few would eventually get lost in due time, the smallest shards would be required to complete the entire puzzle.

He clutched you tightly to his heaving chest, crimson stains on his gloves and clothing. Gaiathra, did I truly deserve this? Is this the “luck” you’ll continue to serve me?

(You deserve every last drop of their blood.)

There was a feeling of freedom in his hands, as restraints were ripped into quarters and he was robbed of his breath. A knot formed in his throat, until a weak sob escaped from it. There was nothing he could do to stop the tears from flowing from his eyes, as they no longer glowed brightly - blocking the sights of the sun, the broken mirror, and your lifeless body, as well as himself. The wretchedest of all beings, the supposed luckiest soul in the universe, the one who loathed to see his other self, was the most miserable of all beings.

"I failed you," he declared with a firmness that almost stopped his heart from beating. It was habits such as biting his lips until they bled, habits that he had promised himself he would not allow himself to revert to in the future. “I lost.”

The next time he walked through the streets of Penacony, he found himself looking at a lonesome puddle - where his reflection was once again, mocking him for what he had lost, for what he had become, for what he could've had. He knew that his other self would follow him wherever he went, a curse in disguise that would follow him until the day he drew his last breath.

#—stellaronhvnters.#aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x reader #hsr x y/n #hsr imagines #hsr fanfic

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luffyvace · 4 months

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HIIII hru !!! may i please ask for some feitan fluffs hcs 😩 i love this tiny man with all my soul

IM DOING GOOD!! YES YOU MAY!!! I ACTUALLY HAVE SUCH A DEEP ROOTED LOVE FOR HIM I DONT TALK ABOUT HIM OFTEN ENOUGH💥💥

(omg this reminds me i’m supposed to be doing the whole troupe and chuuya x male reader- i’m so all over the place but the point is another dabble of feitan hcs will be here in the future! 😋)

also ooc/fanon him since this is fluff :)

tw: death…and torture (i use “unalive” instead of d!e/k!ll)

alrighty so you said fluff headcanons and it’s highly likely you’ll get fluffy feitan if you’ve known each other for a long time (since meteor)

i’m going to dabble in reader that is both in and outside of the troupe because i can :)

so for reader that’s in the troupe first of all no pda

hardly any weakness was displayed besides sadness/anger or mourning (and some funny moments)

theres no need for cuddles during business

unless your like uvo and simply don’t care

then it annoys the crap out of him <3

it’s not like he doesn’t want your affection—just not in public

will cuddle you in private tho

y’all usually sit there in silence or read together

he can be a little spoon or big spoon it doesn’t bother him

he tries his best but he’s never let anyone else so close to him before

if you introduce something to him and he likes it he’ll do it back

because why would you do it to him if you wouldn’t want it done to you right?

im gonna assume you have either a apartment which you unalived the owner of or y’all live in meteor still

he’ll let you choose really he doesn’t care where you stay

he’d even unalive a high status person to steal their mansion if that’s what you want

your obviously strong and have some sort of nen if your in the troupe so he doesn’t bother worrying

although if your like kortopi he’ll stay vigilant for you

even though you can use nen to defend yourself as well

btw if your not a pda person the troupe is grateful

aint no body wanna see allat-

he doesn’t know how to cook or clean and since your both from meteor so i hope you learn or already know how

otherwise y’all eat what y’all can when y’all can

whether you steal a five star gourmet meal or just wait for the next opportunity like a vending machine

i don’t advise you ask for a pet by the way

he’ll tortu£ it and i’m not talking about strapping it down or anything

just purely scarring them 😭

if you be firm about him stopping he will

unless it’s a big scary dog or smth

then he’s more likely to take em under his wing and train them to be vicious

will scare people with said animal

for stay at home reader…. (most of these also apply for troupe reader<3)

i say stay at home bc with his portion of money you could buy anything you want

if you tell him what you want u can get it for free cuz he steals it

but

if you want to take a bath together it would take more than a god to convince him

seriously he sees no reason in it

once you do tho

at first he is on one end of the tub and your on the other

as time goes on he’ll let you lean back into his chest as he scrubs your hair

he lets you play in his hair

don’t tell ANYONE

he don’t like vulnerability so if you tell someone he won’t do it for like 2 weeks

you think he’s never gonna do it again until you crawl into his lap while he’s reading on the bed and ask really sweetly

he’s all yours after that

HIS HAIR IS SO FLUFFY!!

and yes he lets you play with it :)

you get to put it into all types of styles!!

especially since it’s a decent length!

not really interested in playing in your hair

he tries but the rubber band always ends up tangled in your hair

if you kiss him goodnight he will start to initiate it as well

thats one thing he will forever reciprocate

loves your humor

no matter the type

but he especially loves when you laugh at his dark jokes

youve seen him smile before 💖

warms your heart knowing no one else gets this side of him

not judgmental of your looks for obvious reasons

yall got bigger problems

dismisses anytime you degrade yourself

he be speaking facts

”the way your hair looks gonna unalive you?”

”your pimples will st^b you while sleeping?”

no? you goofy goober so why does it matter

don’t argue him on this

genuinely doesn’t like the idea of you being hurt

by him or someone else

dont expect anyone who does harm to you to see the tomorrow sun

even if you plead for them don’t waste your breath pleading you need to be saying goodbye

real loyal partner

as loyal to you as he is the troupe

you and the troupe are his forever commitments

no matter what he could never stop loving you

you guys practically never argue

hes not necessarily hotheaded but will say what’s on his mind and if someone disagrees he does it anyway

thing is he compensates with you💗

if he knows your nitpicking he ignores it but if it’s genuinely something you don’t like he won’t fight it

also he cleans up well if you don’t like to see blood/gore in your place after he’s done t•rturing someone

he respects and listens to your opinions and feelings

would love if your a sadistic person as well but he understands if your not

also if your not in the troupe he teaches you nen

only the troupe knows your together and where you stay for your safety

your safety is definitely on his priority list

truly cares about and loves you

enjoy!!!! i’ll prob come back and read my own hcs bc I LOVE HIM

thank you for this request i loved writing every letter of it♡

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raz-writes-the-thing · 4 months

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Paying Attention (Six of Crows One-Shot)

Kaz Brekker x GN!Reader / requests are OPEN

Summary: You're a little clueless, but the Crows are trying their best to get you to see the light.

SAB/SOC: @the-sweet-psycho (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“You-” Jesper said, sitting down at the card table, crossing one leg over the other and running a gambling chip down his knuckles in an impressive display of his dexterity. “Are clueless.”

You practically choked on your margarita, eyeing him up and down and yanking the chip from his fingers before he had a chance to pull it from your reach. He cocked a brow at you in quiet respect and you clicked your tongue.

“Really? How so?” You deposited the chip onto your stack and shot Jesper an award-winning smile. He grunted, not at all impressed.

“The boss man,” he said, picking up his cards to check his hand, “and his very obvious feelings for you, of course.”

You checked your own hand, playing with the stack of chips. You risked a glance at the upstairs balcony area and who do you see? Kaz, of course. He’s leaning down at the tables below with that calculating glower that sends you mad with desire.

Jesper follows your gaze and has to stop himself from snorting. Kaz’s eyes flick over the tables and finally settle on you. The unexpected eye contact sends a shiver down your spine and a flush up your cheeks. Kaz arches one brow at you, expression otherwise not changing. You know him well enough by now to know that that eyebrow raise means ‘are you okay?’

You flash him a microscopic nod, which he returns before standing upright again and wandering off in the direction of his office. You know what that means- Inej is here somewhere keeping an eye on things. That leaves him to retire to his office and peer over ledgers and jobs for another several hours.

“Hello,” a velvet voice says over your shoulder as the body that came with it slid into a chair beside you with such grace it couldn’t have been anyone else other than-

“Inej,” you greeted warmly, placing your cards down for the round. “Kaz have you keeping an eye on things at the Club tonight?”

She’s barely moving, but you know she’s on high alert, watching and waiting for any sign of trouble. She hummed her confirmation.

“Yes, he’s concerned the Dime Lions are getting a little too bold with their territory. Kaz wants to make sure they don’t cause any trouble for the Pigeons.”

“Pigeons,” you reply, watching as Jesper finally makes his move. “Not language I hear you speak in very often.”

Inej lets out a sigh, allowing herself to break vigilance for just long enough to rub her forehead.

“No, but you stay in the Barrel long enough, you get used to the local speech patterns.”

That made sense to you, yes. It was easy enough to slip into the language of the Barrel. Particularly when you spent time in the Crow club and the dodgier parts of town.

“Inej,” Jesper piped up, that signature look on his face that told you he was about to stir shit up. “You know Kaz better than most- tell me, do you think he has a crush on our dear friend here?”

You spluttered, slapping Jes on the shoulder playfully in disbelief. You were about to defend your fearless leader once again when you turned to look at Inej. She was usually so good at keeping things to herself, but one look at her expression and you knew she thought the same as Jesper.

“Oh, no- not you too,” you protested. “You don’t seriously-”

“Oh, yes,” she said, eyeing a patron by the bar who was starting to look like getting in a fight might not be such a bad idea after all. “Completely smitten.”

You scoffed once again, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all.

“We’re not joking,” Jesper said, placing his hat on his knee.

Your laugh died off and you frowned thoughtfully. It would be nice if he did have a little crush on you, given how he made you feel, but you weren’t at all convinced.

“Well then,” you said. “Guess I better start paying more attention and see for myself.”

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searchingforserendipity25 · 3 months

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Vigil. idril & aredhel. ao3.

TW: references to kidnapping, implied/referenced sexual assault.

"Aunt," said Idril, rather stiffly, where once she would have used her name, and would not have asked at all. "Might I join you?"

Aredhel fought the urge to bare her teeth, and kept her eyes on the crowded clouds above.

Pink-washed and round-bellied, west-bound. The wind was fierce with currents only clouds and birds sailed, but the courtyard Aredhel had chosen for her rest was well-sheltered, the stone rich with heat.

It had been some effort, to go the long way alone; but she had a cane, and a son to lean on. She had been weary and pained enough to send the son gladly away; and be gladdest of all to be alone.

She heard Idril come, her silver feet making their familiar song upon the mosaics of Gondolin's courts. That was more kindness she was used to in Nan Elmoth, where many things scurried, and few gave a warning of their proximity.

A glorious warmth seeped into her bones. She had been so cold, in Nan Elmoth. Not a first - but it was a damp mist that sank through the skin, a dizzying weariness. Sunlight - only occasionally. Eöl kept to the starlit-ways.

Aredhel had kissed Arien Sun-Star once, and crowed to voicelessness when first she saw hard land, and thawing frost. She had missed this - it made her angry so. What a waste of years she might have spent otherwise.

And still Idril was waiting. It was not kind, to set a test upon her; but Aredhel could not do otherwise. And it was good to know Idril would wait; that she was not so changed as to have lost her persistence.

"Sit, if you like," Aredhel said. "I am not your master, to tell you what you might do."

Her voice sounded rough with long illness to her own ears, but she took her time gathering it in her throat, made it strong. In her sujourn under the curling boughs of Nan Elmoth, it had been needful to speak, and always it had been done with effort. She might have forgotten the sound of her own words, let them fade entirely.

Was he your master, then, Idril thought. Were you not free to do as you would, even to sit in the sun?

Aredhel did not hear it, but she knew her niece. The same wisdom that kept Idril's thought away from the walls that Aredhel had raised about her mind would make her draw conclusion.

Not the wrong ones. They spoke in Sindarin. Aredhel was not certain yet she would speak the language of her people again; if she could, even inside the high walls of Gondolin, where Quenya was used in the market, in the king's chambers, in songs of devotions.

Gondolin's benches were wide and sturdy enough; two might lay abreast, and not touch.

Idril's hair smelled of laurel and honey, still. Few things had made Aredhel's eyes sting on her return to Gondolin. The white stone shimmering in the heat had been a great relief, but an indifferent one, as a hunted beast might feel at the sight of a cave or a tall branch. Now only did Aredhel feel - how familiar it was. This smell, Idril's closeness, the whirring machinery of her mind close enough they might have shared a moment of wry understanding, as they had so many times before.

They did not touch.

Now a small army of cirrocumulus overhead, sweet clouds all following on one another. She had tried to teach Lómion the different cloud names, but he had not the love for the skies that she did. Her son was busy in the forges. He had found his source of warmth, learned at his father's side. Aredhel had loved him less the day she understood he would not need to live as she did.

Possibly her measuring scale of love had grow skewered. O, now Turgon never would allow her out! But the worst of it was that she was tired. Not her wound alone caused it, though that healed slowly regardless.

She willed herself to see it - herself on horseback again, crossing fields of clover, narrow passes. Her body thrummed with exhaustion at the thought of it.

The high noon sun pressed against their lids, turned the world to a blinding gilt. Idril surely felt Aredhel's fever rising, the warmth that rose from her skin; but Idril was wise, and knew how to measure her silence. Aredhel had forgotten a little, how worthy her niece was.

At times dark shadows swirled overhead through the clouds. Slow, broad wings high above, coming from all corners of the mountainside.

The vultures that fed most often by Amon Gwareth had flown days ago to the city walls for a feast: Eöl, they cried. Eöl is dead. More and more came, eager, hungry.

As a widow she had woken from near-death, knowing with rare foresight that her body would not be her own, and whole and hale again, until Eöl was eaten entire, bowels and eyeballs and marrow. Aredhel of Gondolin waited.

It was a good wait; long enough to learn the skies again, to be sun-warm all the way through.

She touched her fingertips lightly to Idril's, when it was done, and felt her stir, her thought turning to Aredhel, a constrained joy and grief and relief. But Aredhel was in no hurry, and did not wish to open her heart again, nor leave to return to her chambers; not till the last birds of rapine were borne slowly away in the wind.

#fic #idril celebrindal #aredhel #my fics #february ficlet challenge #prompt 1 - high noon #silm fic #tolkien fanfiction #tfog

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secretgamergirl · 5 months

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A Teachable Moment

So I hopped into some freshly minted Discord server, maybe a month ago, and the norms of it still haven't settled into place. It's open to the public and focused on a game, so there's a bit of a mixed crowd, let's say, and prior to the incident I'm setting up the backstory for, there hasn't really been a test of their ability to moderate their damn public spaces.

Also when I say there's a mixed crowd I mean there's both a good number of trans women (because if you are making a deep game for a niche audience, we're gonna make up a shockingly high percentage of that audience every time), and a few right-wing extremists doing their best to "hide their power levels" (because if you create and promote literally any sort of social space, they WILL show up to test for whether local conditions are suitable enough to build a nest). In the early days of things they mostly kept their masks on aside from using the nazi frog as a reaction image to things (which IS something everyone should have a zero tolerance policy towards, but I feel like I need to know someone fairly well before I can explain that one), and their eyes lighting up when they see the server rules include "no politics" (a perfectly fine policy to have but you need to understand that if you post it you WILL have to constantly ban nazis who think you're using "politics" like they do- a euphemism for all the people they want dead).

Anyway, there's a few people on my radar here, but everyone's been civil enough, and it's a pretty relaxed vibe. Pretty quiet. Mostly just icebreaker talk. The most prolific poster is this one guy who saw there was a pet photo channel and just kinda sat down and made a point of posting several images a day to it, of a particularly uncommon sort of cute pet. Naturally this lead some people to ask some follow-up questions about whether these are his and how long he's had them, and this yielded the pretty damn weird in retrospect response that no, he has no pets at all, but would like one of these some day.

Now, this isn't at all the main thrust of this, and I wouldn't like, start keeping vigil for this as a sign of troublemakers, but a thing that undercover bigots do all the time as can be seen here is set up in a community and just kinda spam harmless generic platitudes and such to try and establish themselves as a known chill person. This goes double for anywhere that has a general public/trusted community members split. Never just go by "well he seems pretty chill" for giving people access to more private spaces, they can wait as long as they need, generally, as long as they don't have to improvise a normal person response to a situation where bigotry is in play.

Anyway, getting to the main event, a few days ago in this server, someone posted some cute little comic which... you know let me just find it.

Clever little subversion there. Got a polite chuckle out of the bulk of those paying attention, but seeing a nice wholesome bit of trans positivity incensed pet-poster guy, who immediately shouts "I've seen another version of that comic!" and posts a variation I am absolutely not going to share where the girl in the last panel is dead.

That is as clear cut of a do not pass go, do not collect $200, ban that piece of garbage permanently without a word and delete the post as soon as you can before anyone has to see that sort of hate directed at them offense in absolutely any community. Even moreso in this case as in the time it took a moderator to notice, this creep was going full mask off and responding to everyone's horrified reactions with grotesque anti-trans propaganda of a particularly hardcore "my other hangouts have openly posted swastikas" variety.

Here, people did delete the profoundly offensive comic, but then, to be blunt, otherwise handled this like a kindergarten teacher seeing a kid grab the blocks another kid was playing with and just nonchalantly explaining some basic manners. First off, nobody goes that hard on hate speech accidentally, and more importantly, showing a lack of willingness to dole out any real consequences for such an open act of hate has an emboldening effect. Sure enough the other sleeper agents present jumped up to try and push things farther, encouraging them to also remove the comic above, ban any mention of trans people, and jump the gun with prepared responses that don't work in context (you call everyone you don't like a nazi! Both sides are wrong! etc.).

I came pretty close to just quitting the server on response to that, but stuck it out a bit to double check if this wasn't just one particularly green mod trying to put the fire out before double checking if that's ban worthy when someone else was awake, or if I needed to explain the code-talk in the following conversation, or hell, if they just need more mods. I'm decidedly overqualified for that sort of thing.

Anyway, moderation policy handled that poorly... and to be clear, I'm not pinning that on any one person, basically everyone who ends up in a position of authority has a gut instinct to moderate as laxly as possible and needs some real training, reading, or tragic experience to learn how vital a firm swift hand is if you don't want people like this to show up and drive everyone else away. Especially not going to put this on the one green volunteer awake at 4 AM or whatever.

Still, the ball was dropped here, and I was pleasantly surprised to see how the rest of the community stepped up to hold their ground. Over the next couple of days, people just started casually dropping every cute trans positive thing they had handy in there, agreeing with each other that it was all nice and sweet. This both reestablished that chat as a relatively safe place to exist with a kind general vibe, and really got under the skin of these mask off nazis who started throwing tantrums. Apparently they just started privately messaging the mods to flag every single wholesome little image or comic as offensive to the point where people higher up the food chain came in, did some more serious reprimanding, and added an explicit policy against transphobia to their TOS... and threatened to ban these people if they pull this crap again.

Now, that increased firmness plus the community in general making it pretty damn clear they don't tolerate hate does seem to have scared the bigots into hiding (the one guy made this pathetic desperate effort to retake power by threatening to stop posting the animal pictures... that he's just pulling out of an image search, it was pretty funny), but... they're still there. The people they were threatening both broadly and as specific individuals still have to be careful not to share anything these scumbags can screencap and weaponize against them, and I'm sure at some time in the future when it's clear there's no mods awake they're going to pipe back up to do as much damage as they can in a blaze of glory if spying on all the queer people doesn't pay out for them, so while it is nice to see how just actively rejecting this sort of ideology can at least temporarily shut this crap down even without people in authority taking real action, I want to reiterate what responsibilities those in authority are neglecting here.

As a moderator of literally any sort of space, your basic duties are to keep things safe and to keep things civil. Those are two separate duties. Don't ever try and merge them together, and don't ever forget that safety must always take priority over civility.

If you see a situation where people are just getting randomly heated and angry over something inconsequential (happens a lot), yes, by all means, try to just deescalate things by stepping through just taking a stern tone, formal warnings, timeouts, 3 strike rules, temporary bans, etc. These are situations where we can hope that people who otherwise get along just let their emotions get out of hand and will hopefully shake hands and make up after having some time to cool off.

If on the other hand you see a situation where someone is threatening/antagonizing/intimidating someone else, especially in a case like this where the reason is transparently that the offender is a bigot who genuinely wishes harm or death on the target, there are no steps to escalate through. You remove the dangerous person from the community immediately, no exceptions, no warnings, no escalating response scale. That nazi posting crap about trans women in nooses, Jews in ovens, black people holding spears, women being raped etc. is not a friend having a rough day. There can be no reconcilliation no matter how much time you give. You just have a predator here to whittle your community down, and a vulnerable person who needs you to reassure them that they are safe in your community. The only option that should be on the table is the permanent zero appeals ban, and you should have no hesitation in deploying it.

Oh and here's the part where I remember that I am going to lose my home by the end of the year if I don't ask people to throw more money at me (this is a link). I hate doing this, but my other options for income went up in flames so completely I don't even know how to start to rebuild.

#moderation #safety

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ironmandeficiency · 2 years

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pedro boys + at the pool

pedro boys included: oberyn, javi p, frankie, max, pero, jack, javi g

word count: 789

summary: just modern au thoughts on how some of the boys would act at the pool

a/n: this is not what i thought i’d be writing rn tbh but at least it’s something. there should be more content besides this posted by the end of the week

oberyn — this cheeky bastard can hold his breath for longer than humanly normal & uses this ability to dive under & scare you from behind. is also one of the best at packing snacks and typically has a frozen cocktail or wine within reach at all times, probably munching on a handful of berries (either blackberries or green grapes usually). will be the last one in the pool long after most think it’s too cold or too late. makes the BEST pool day playlist you’ve ever heard & it keeps the vibes high the whole time. any party hosted by oberyn is guaranteed to be an absolute rager & that sentiment never disappoints.

javi p — doesn’t take his shades off for anything. usually relaxing in a donut floatie with a beer (water if you fuss at him enough) in hand, but can be convinced to get in more if the water feels nice. enjoys sunbathing like a lizard & never needs sunscreen; he just tans and looks like a god afterward. just for the sake of laughter, he will push you into the water and laugh when you sputter indignantly at him. you quickly forgive him once you see his smile, knowing that those used to be much harder to bring to the surface.

frankie — he’s also a floatie guy & will be much more relaxed with his little girl sitting on it with him. otherwise he’s sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water, hyper vigilant in case she needs him. she won’t need him, simply because frankie put her in swim classes as soon as she was old enough to learn & might as well be a fish. he brings extra towels, sunscreen, drinks, popsicles, snacks, and even another pair of sandals. the delta guys laugh at his overpacking… until that uncrustable starts calling their name (cough cough BENNY cough). does enjoy a good chicken fight once he’s got a beer in him. it’s either him & benny against will & santi, or any combination of them against baby girl morales (the defeats here are extra dramatic and it makes her laugh every time).

max — he won’t swim in a public pool. period. he will refuse & fight the idea until hell freezes over. instead, he will either charm someone into letting you both use their pool, or will have a private indoor pool built exclusively for your shared use. this also eliminates the need for sunscreen or worrying about privacy. gets a hot tub built in too & it’s hard to convince him to get out of it most times. will paint the bottom of the pool black and it’s such a trip the first several times you swim in it.

pero — it takes a lot to convince him to actually swim, the spaniard much more content to lounge in the sunshine. one run-in with a sea urchin on the valencia coast made him reasonably apprehensive of swimming in large bodies of water. to him, other people’s unattended children can pose the same level of danger & annoyance as various sea creatures. will swim when it’s almost empty of people, enjoying the solitude that comes with calmer waters. he floats on his back just relaxing, but the moment you dunk him, it’s game on and he fights dirty.

jack — him at the pool can be summarized in one word: showoff. he is proud that he can still flip off the edge & will gladly brag about this feat. if there’s a diving board, even better. he is a champion at playing chicken and every non-newbie statesman agent learned the hard way at a summer retirement party for agent lager. was not allowed to be in charge of the playlist after that party because it did not go well (he played “what’s new pussycat” by tom jones on repeat for 20 minutes because of an inside joke). when he’s finally ready to relax, he chills on a massive floatie with a drink in both cup holders and a straw cowboy hat on his head (think kenny chesney vibes).

javi g — he hosts the BEST pool parties hands down. everyone in attendance is always kind because javi prioritizes everyone feeling safe while having fun & security takes their job very seriously when it comes to not tolerating bullshit. plenty of snacks and drinks (alcoholic & otherwise) are provided for everyone, and the music is the perfect mix of hype and chill to keep the vibes just right. there are fairy lights and torches scattered around, and a cabana exclusively for when you and javi sneak away from the hubbub to find some privacy. when a few stragglers wake up on his floor the morning after, he provides them with breakfast & money for a ride home like a gentleman.

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roblingoblin285 · 11 months

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Day 101: Bedside vigil (Out Of Their Element)

rare oote content

Soft footsteps approached outside Sage’s bedroom door, and before long a hesitant knock rang out in the otherwise silent room.

“Sir?” A muffled voice spoke from the other side, slow and cautious. “T-The cabinet sent me to fetch you, your highness. They’re holding a meeting in the dining hall.”

“Tell them you couldn’t find me,” Sage said easily, eyes not leaving the pitiful figure curled up under their blankets. “I wasn’t in my tower.”

Another pause. “Sir, with all due respect, it may be important-”

“Not as important as this,” Sage interrupted, voice sharper than they intended. Rob began to stir at the noise, and they shushed him back to sleep gently. “Go,” they said in the direction of the door. “Bernard can come himself if he has any problems.”

With a sigh, the servant at the door withdrew. Sage could hear the tower door shut behind them, and then it was silent again.

Sage turned back to Rob, a smile spreading across their face as they watched the sleeping boy. His face was flushed with fever, but he was no longer shivering under the covers. He was waking up every few hours now, just long enough for Sage to give him some medicine and water before he fell back asleep.

It was just a cold, nothing too serious, but Sage knew that the boy would work himself to death sick or not. They finally convinced him to sleep in the tower’s spare room, where they could make sure he was okay as well as make him stay put.

“‘age?”

Sage blinked out of their own thoughts in an instant. “Hey,” they said softly, repressing an instinctive coo at Rob’s sleepy expression. Their wings twitched where they were folded against their back, wanting to wrap the boy up against their chest. “How are you feeling?”

Rob gave a weak cough, and Sage helped him sit up against the headboard to drink some water. “Sick,” he said miserably.

“I can see that,” Sage said warmly. “Any better than this morning?”

“I think so,” the boy murmured, already slipping back under his blanket. “Tired.”

Sage laughed, reaching forward to tuck the cover back under Rob’s chin. “Go back to sleep, kiddo. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Thank you for reading! Asks are always welcome about anything, and I appreciate your support! If you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist, please submit an ask or leave a reply. 365 writing challenge taglist: @stabby-nunchucks Fall From Grace + adjacent taglist: @thekittyburger

#child whumpee #servant whumpee #parental caretaker #royal caretaker #whump #writing #whump prompt #whump scenario #whump writing #whump drabble #whumpee #caretaker #365 writing challenge #ocs #oote!rob #oote!sage

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animeyanderelover · 2 years

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Hello hun! May I ask for Tobirama, Sakura, Naru/Hina, Mina/Kushi with a modern s/o with a bit of a twist? Like, instead of s/o going to that universe straight away, they’re in dbd first (dead by daylight, a survival horror game) and by the time they get to the Naruto universe, they had died hundreds of times, but are pretty much nonchalant about the whole thing? And they no longer can die by normal means? That or just a stoner modern reader that only shows affection when their high cause they no longer hold that part of themselves back.

I know a friend of mine who played Dead By Daylight, otherwise I don’t know much about it but the idea sounds so interesting!

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions, paranoia, clinginess

I died about a 100 times, so what?

Tobirama Senju

🌊Tobirama is as the vigilant guy he is reacts suspicious to your sudden intrusion. You stumble into his village out of nowhere since you don’t belong to any of the five great nations nor to any smaller village. Your clothes look funny and you have no belongings with you. Especially the way you seem fascinated and sometimes confused when watching the way of life in Konoha or ninja hint strongly that you’re from somewhere else. What might just piss him off the most though is your complete calm way of reacting to his threads and the fact that you tell him quite the fairytale about being transported into a different universe. Complete bullshit and it isn’t until the Yamanaka have interrogated you that he believes it.

🌊They look highly disturbed when they report what they found out and even Tobirama is thrown out of his normally composed state a bit. He experienced the horror of war and great loss but dying over and over again must have taken another toll of damage on your mind which must have resorted in your laidback behavior and the fact that you do not fear death anymore. With nowhere else for you to go, he decides to accept you into his village as a sort of apology for not believing you at first, though he justifies his initial disbelief because your story sounds like something out of a peculiar dream. Your case is top secret and even if you cope with it in your own way, the Hokage forces you to go to therapy for more help.

🌊He’s getting more involved, initially because he doesn’t want to let too many people in on you and someone has to teach you the ways of his world and secondly because he has an interest in your world. Maybe he can get some good advices from hearing about how your world functions. Tobi is attentive in his own way, he sometimes checks up on you to see how you’ve adapted to your new life and your job he helped you to get. Somewhere in between all the time he spent with you, the Senju got attached, obsessed even. You have a very different mindset due to your experiences, conversations with you are always interesting and it’s admirable how you do your best despite the horrible events you had to endure. You creep slowly into his heart.

🌊I feel like he’d be more protective than he’d be possessive as long as everything goes well because even if you are nonchalant about your death, he isn’t. Tobirama worries that you’ll just accept another death if you somehow end up in another unfortunate situation in his world and it isn’t until you admit that you by now can’t die by any normal means anymore that he gets surprised. It doesn’t really change anything, your whole indifference about your death bothers him since he has lost people precious to him. Especially if he has already lost his brother by that point, he would cling especially much to you. He is a lot more gentle though considering that he takes it heavily to heart that you suffered and died enough already.

Minato Namikaze & Kushina Uzumaki

⚡️🌶It isn’t like Minato isn’t at least a bit warily when he receives word that someone was found lurking near the village. But he just takes pity when he sees you for the first time. Lonely, disheveled and utterly confused. He’s perceptive so when he questions you, he doesn’t get the feeling that you have any bad intentions. Instead you don’t even seem to know where you where, the word Konoha or ninja are foreign to you and it is at the very latest when you can’t even name a country he knows of from which you are that he starts feeling that you’re from somewhere else completely. He’s friendly, maybe that is why you tell him your story which rises doubts though he can’t sense anything from you that hints that you’re lying.

⚡️🌶The Yamanaka Clan is probably involved once again and when they confirm your story, he’s bothered by the nightmare you went through for so long and his wife notices. Kushina is persistent and both have each other’s trust so he lets her in on your case. She’s visibly shocked to hear from your life as well and for some reason is determined to help. You went through absolute hell and even if you seem to cope with it by being indifferent, the woman has made up her mind to enable you to live a happy life now. She forces Minato to see you and get to know you and she pretty much takes charge in helping you to settle down in her village and helps you searching for a good job. Minato planned on helping you anyways but he really loves Kushina for her beautiful heart.

⚡️🌶Kushina is adamant on becoming your friend and help you to move on and feel finally happy again. She visits you together with her husband, eagerly shows you around and often invites you over to eat with them. Neither of them forces you to talk about your past unless you decide to open up to them which you do more frequently the more you learn to trust them. They’re more distraught than you are, Kushina always the first to soothe you with Minato joining shortly after. With all the time they spend with you it is no wonder that platonic love slowly started to evolve into the romantic kind and both are relieved and happy when noticing that the interest in you is mutual. Both of them would have felt terrible about themselves otherwise.

⚡️🌶They pursue you together and both are absolute sweethearts. The couple is eager to completely help you forget about your horrible experiences and that is why each and every sincere smile from your side is so incredibly precious. Both concern themselves with your sheer nonchalance about the topic of your own death though, especially since you know that you can’t die by any normal means. The fear that you won’t even try to avoid fatal wounds because of your immunity is one that often crosses their mind and Minato can hold Kushina only with a bit of difficulty back from openly becoming emotional and a bit distraught by how much your terrible experiences changed you. He feels the same way though and as a result both end up clinging to you a lot more with far more affection.

Sakura Haruno

🌸She doesn’t have to be the one to find you first but since she is a pupil of Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage, and one of the very few people the lady trusts, it’s possible she’ll be let in on the secret sooner than later. Sakura has a sharp mind herself, she sees that something seems to keep her teacher busier and more stressed than normally, knows to shut up if Tsunade reacts a bit more short-tempered. It just happens one day where she gets summoned to meet with her master and upon entering the office she instantly notices the new face besides Tsunade and Shizune. Her master lets her then in one the top secret after letting Sakura swear on her honor as her student that she won’t tell anyone. You’re about her age and she wants Sakura to be someone you can seek out if you need help.

🌸The news leave her a bit in shock, especially the aspect that you can’t die by normal means anymore after having died about a hundred times already in another world. Nevertheless Sakura takes this responsibility since she’s honored that Tsunade trusts her that much and also because she’s a nice person who feels sympathy for you. She shows you around the village and to your new house, waves you goodbye and emphasizes that you can come to her anytime you need something. She’s later that day summoned once again to Tsunade’s office, something she was hoping for because she wanted to ask for more details. As a medic your mental state especially interests you and Tsunade answers as much questions as she can from where you came from and what your current condition is.

🌸Given the fact that the Hokage is a medic and both of her closest assistants are medics as well, the s/o will wind up in therapy sessions with one of them, most likely Shizune or Sakura since Tsunade is often busy with work though she tries to use you sometimes as an excuse to escape the council. Sakura wants to be friends quickly since she knows that you two are going to spend a lot of time together and you seem like a nice person even if you are a bit more eccentric which is no wonder though looking on what you went through. She often walks with you through the village, helps you to decorate your house and buy ingredients and introduces you after some time to Ino and the other girls. You’re honest with her and in return she’s just as honest with you.

🌸Ino starts shipping intensely once she notices that her pink-haired friend starts to gain feelings for you and the other girls and even the boys somewhat join and the Yamanaka girl pulls every string to set darling and Sakura up. Sakura herself hesitates since she is unsure whether or not you are ready to be in a relationship after all you went through, with a little bit of spying from Ino’s side things are cleared quickly and soon after she confesses successfully. Sakura is rather protective over you, not only because of your horrifying past and the people and world you had to leave behind but also because she knows that the council is rather interested in you. She does understand that your indifference about your deaths are just a way for you to cope but doesn’t want you to stop caring about dying again in her world due to your special immunity.

Naruto Uzumaki & Hinata Hyuga

🍜💘Maybe Naruto is a bit too friendly for his own good though I do believe as a Hokage he is still aware of his responsibilities. He welcomes his darling as one of the friendliest persons though. He looks at them and just feels pity since they look like they went through a lot. When he finds out that they’re homeless and can’t use chakra, he instantly wants to offer them to stay in the village but that is when the council protests. They don’t know anything about you and they can’t be sure whether or not you plan something. So Naruto ends up questioning you for a bit of information about you only to have you telling him in the most normal tone about your adventurous and deadly life so far. Even Naruto doesn’t know instantly what he can say.

🍜💘He isn’t fond of the idea of letting someone into your head yet the council insists and you are completely fine with it as well, claiming to have experienced worse. The true commotion starts once Ino confirms what you’ve told him because suddenly the council wants to interrogate you more which ends in Naruto shielding you and defending you. You went through enough already, you deserve a relatively normal life for once. You are quickly given a house and he invites you soon after to dinner with his wife who he has given a rough idea of who you are, she gets to know every detail from him and you later on and nearly drops her food in horror. She’s instantly on the same train as Naruto, wants to help you to recover as good as possible.

🍜💘Both are really sweet because they alway check on you and invite you over so you don’t have to feel so lonely. Hinata often comes over to help you to clean your apartment and buy with you things you need whilst Naruto, excited to introduce you to this new world, often drags you and Hinata to places to show you and also ends up showing you what chakra is and what you can do with it. Both also invite you almost every day over to eat with them and even when Naruto is busy with work, Hinata wants you to come over. Honestly, both aren’t taking a long time before they start gaining this obsessive infatuation with you. Hinata starts becoming significantly shyer around you and Naruto more handsy and both also grow so clingy.

🍜💘They talk it out quite quickly and are very open about it to you as well. Now, they might rush things a bit since Naruto wants you to move in with them fast. Hinata at least is more patient though she is clingy herself so she wants you a big part of the day in the house together with her and Naruto. Please don’t even attempt to describe you how you died one of your many deaths, she’ll probably faint out of shock. Both grow overbearing because of your gruesome and violent past and because you lost everyone you knew, especially Naruto’s paranoia is fueled which can complicate life a bit if it wouldn’t be for Hinata calming him down a bit. They end up smothering you in affection with Naruto being the bolder one.

#yandere naruto #yandere naruto shippuden #yandere tobirama #yandere tobirama senju #yandere minato #yandere minato namikaze #yandere kushina #yandere kushina uzumaki #yandere sakura #yandere sakura haruno #yandere naruto uzumaki #yandere hinata #yandere hinata hyuga

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 years

Text

Have random updates/vibes that nobody needed in the first place!

In Healthcare AU Castle Town it's currently overcast and rainy and cool. Wars and Wind are chilling in their apartment listening to a Spotify classical music chill playlist. Wind's studying for school and Warriors is taking a well-deserved nap (Tingle wiggled in there for a nap too). Four's working and humming as he gets ready to give his sedated patient a bath. Hyrule and Mo are laughing about a prank that they played on the other crew, but Mo keeps hissing for Hyrule to be quiet or they'll hear them. Time and Malon are enjoying a quiet cup of coffee between OR cases. Sky is hanging out with Legend and the pair are playing duets on their lyres. Wild and Twilight are at home; Wild is watching videos on the tablet while Twi practices some rope knot tying skills mostly just to have something to do with his hands. They've got a fire going, Paw Patrol's playing in the background on the television, and Wolfie is enthralled whenever he sees a doggy on the screen.

In Twilight Princess Hyrule, Rusl just carried Link from Renado's house to the Kakariko Inn so he can rest in a comfortable bed after drinking a couple more potions and having some stew that Rusl packed for him. Night's falling and a random Goron asked Rusl if he wanted to go to the hot springs because he looks "a little wound up."

In Breath of the Sky, all the Links and Zeldas are sleeping soundly and don't have a care in the world. The royal guards (sans the captain, who's snoring in bed with his wife and kid) are on high alert because heaven forbid another incident happens.

In Elastic Heart Time and Wars are keeping vigil while all the other boys sleep, though Twi is tossing and turning a lot. A gentle rain is rolling in, and Legend wakes up achey in the middle of the night, turns to grumble about it to Sky and then remembers Sky isn't there.

Away from a battlefield, Fierce Dadity is hauling a grouchy Captain Link back to his tent with a freshly wrapped leg wound while the captain repeatedly says he needs to check on his men, a simple leg cut is not the end of the world, thank you very much. Fierce thinks otherwise.

#writing #have a nice vibe #it's rainy here and I'm listening to classical music and suffering through CBLs #and needed a distraction #fierce dadity #lu in healthcare #elastic heart #secrets of the shadows #breath of the sky

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from-my-gabriel-notebook · 2 years

Text

A soft comfort

Word count: 3642

Content warning: panic attack, age regression (not sexual in any way, but due to high levels of fear)

Author's note: I know the topic of age regression can be controversial, but this fic is very close to my heart so please, be kind.

Sam and Dean were fighting again.

You shouldn't be surprised, really. You knew they cared about each other, and they showed it in multiple ways, but they were also incredibly quick to anger and blaming each other, years of untreated traumas and codependency certainty not doing them any favor beside telling them where to hit to hurt the most.

The fight had started in the drive back to the bunker from an especially challenging case, and the chance of going to their own room to calm down hadn't stopped them from keeping on their shouting match.

You were hovering, unsure if you were allowed to leave or if they would take it the wrong way. The shivers had already started, and you flinched every time one of them would wave their hands around. You kept running your hands on your arms and tights, fingernails pushing in maybe a little too much, but you needed to anchor you in the now.

And you were fine, really, you were, as long as they didn't drag you into it-

"And you? What do you think?"

Dean's voice, still loud and sharp, cut through your mind. You startled, looking frantically at Sam, but he was just as riled up as his brother, so no help would come from him.

"Wh-what?" you stuttered.

"Who do you think is right, me or Sam? Whose side you're on?"

Nope, you were not answering that. You didn't even know what they were fighting about, half hyper-vigilant and half dissociating, recognizing words and gestures just long enough to be able to tell if they were a danger to you before discarding them.

And even if you knew, picking a side never ended well.

"I'm - I don't think - I mean," you tried, but you couldn't find the right way to put it that wouldn't make it worse. Dean urged you on, not caring for your struggles, so you took a deep breath and tried again.

"I think this is an issue I shouldn't be involved in? I mean, this was mostly between the two of you, so my opinion really isn't that important?" you said, voice tilting in a question like you used to when you tried to be safe. Not that it ever worked, but you were still clinging to an old hope it would help.

No such luck, not then, and certainly not now.

Dean scoffed and turned towards Sam, animosity momentarily forgotten to have someone to complain about you with.

"Oh, they don't want to get involved.". He turned back towards you. "You never do, too concerned with being above us to step in. Do you even care about us?"

Do you even care about this family?

You froze, similar words running through your mind, and suddenly it wasn't Dean you were seeing, and another voice was screaming in your ears. So many similar situations, and how they ended, flashed through your mind, and you wanted to run, to hide, but your legs were locked in place, so you closed your eyes, hoping they'd forget about you if you stayed still enough.

Snapping, loud and sharp, right by your face, and then a hand shaking you, and something inside you snapped.

Your eyes shot open and you turned and run away from them, trusting your instinct not to crash into walls when your vision was blurred by tears.

You didn't know how long it had been (not enough to make them stop, to make it safe to take up space again) when a soft knock came from the other side of your door. It rang like thunder in your terrified quietness.

You curled up in a tighter ball in the corner, hoping that whoever it was would leave if they got no response.

Another knock sounded, then the door slowly opened, cutting a blade of light in the otherwise dark room.

"Cupcake, it's me. Can I come in?"

You wanted to be by yourself, but you also didn't. You wanted to be away from the danger, but you didn't want to be alone with the dark thoughts running in circle in your mind. People meant the risk of making them angry, but Gabriel was safe.

You were too conflicted to answer, so you let him enter the room and close the door behind him.

Darkness draped you again in its comforting embrace, and you were glad Gabriel didn't try to turn the lights on.

It was easier being ignored in the dark.

You heard him walk towards you, somehow avoiding tripping on all the mess littering your room.

He stopped in from of you - you thought, at least. Your head was still hidden against your legs, eyes pressed tightly shut.

You heard him sit down, far enough to leave you in your safe bubble but close enough to feel his presence.

A particularly loud, even if slightly muffled, sound came from outside and you flinched, hands covering your ears. You didn't want to hear them, you just wanted them to be quiet.

Something shifted in the air. You let go of your ears and realized with a jolt that no more voices came from outside anymore. You started to panic. What if they were coming to you, to scream at you for hiding? What if they left while they were still upset? You couldn't decide which option was worse.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, nothing happened. They're still arguing, I just thought you didn't need to hear them."

Gabriel's soft voice was a sharp contrast to the wheezing sound that bounced off the walls.

It took you a moment to realize that sound was your uneven breathing.

You tried to take deeper breaths, but it only seemed to make it worse.

Suddenly there was something taking your hand, trying to pry them from where you had them wrapped around your middle. You tried to resist, sure your lungs would burst if you didn't put pressure on them, but the force was firm yet kind. It didn't stop pulling until your hands were resting on something solid and warm. It was raising and falling. You could feel a strong heartbeat under your palms.

Gabriel's chest.

"Hey. I'm here, you're safe, focus on me. Breath with me."

You tried, you really did, but it was so difficult, like there wasn't enough air in the room. It took you so long to make even the smallest improvement.

He was there with you the whole time, encouraging you, never raising his voice or getting angry, not even when your breath would speed up again after almost calming down.

At one point a faint, warm glow started breaking through the dark. A shy golden light, seemingly coming from Gabriel himself. No, behind him. Around him? Then you realized: his wings.

They were beautiful, bringing you comfort just like the angel's presence always did for you.

You stared at them, mesmerized. They distracted you enough to stop worrying as much, and your breath was able to calm back to normal.

But the peace wasn't going to last.

As one storm passed, another was quick to manifest. Your fingers curled up in his shirt as your shoulders began shaking.

A loud, choken sob left your mouth. Your hands flew up to try and smother the ones you knew would follow.

He opened his arms, inviting you to go in his lap but still giving you the final choice.

You hesitated and glanced at the door. He noticed.

"Do you want me to leave?", he asked. Your eyes snapped to him again, afraid he was going to get angry at you for being rude, but he didn't look mad, only attentive.

You thought about it. You didn't want him to see you like this, when you were so weak, but being alone would be worse, and he was comforting.

You gave the tiniest shake of your head.

He smiled at you. "I'll stay then", he said.

He opened his arms again, and this time you inched closer. He offered one of his hands and intertwined your fingers when you placed yours in his, while the other went to gently wade through your hair.

The dam broke.

Your grip on his hand turned crushing as you pressed it against your chest and curled around it. Broken, ugly sobs tore from your lips, your shoulders shaking with the force of them. He never once shushed you, instead telling you sweet and encouraging words, his other hand never stopping its soothing motion.

After a time that felt so long the sobs died down, even if your breaths kept coming out in uneven, wet sounds. Your shoulders still shook, but you didn't know if it was for the sadness or for the cold.

When had it become so cold?

You had barely began to tremble that the glow from before came back. Gabriel's wings were around you, hugging you in a world of soft light and warmth.

You looked at them, then at him, and his smile was blinding even through your blurry eyes.

"Hi there. How are you feeling?" he asked.

The tiniest bit better, thanks to him, but you still couldn't find in yourself the strength to talk.

He seemed to understand the problem.

"Speaking is hard, isn't it?"

You tensed, waiting for the anger that was sure to follow, but he surprised you again by saying "It's okay. But there's a way, if you still want to comunicate. Can I...? I'll only hear what you want me to tell me, I promise. " he said, raising a hand near your temple.

It took you a moment to understand what he was asking. He wanted to permission to read your mind. You were unsure. Your mind was a mess, especially now, and you didn't want to burden him with it. And there were bad parts you wanted to keep hidden. But you trusted him, and he had always been so kind, so you nodded.

A tiny shock made you jump a little when his fingers touched you.

"Sorry. Let's see if it works. How are you feeling now?"

A little better. Thank you.

"No need to thank me, I'm happy I could help."

You looked away. I'm sorry.

He tilted his head. "What for?"

It's bad for people to see me like this.

He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of in being scared. "

It's if it's for something small. I'm big, I should have handled it. And you didn't have to-

"Nonsense," he stopped you, "When I said I would have been there for you, I meant it. For better or for worse, I just want to be by your side."

Overwhelmed, you threw your arms around his neck, holding tight and with fresh tears in your eyes. You couldn't understand how someone so... Him could care for someone as unimportant as you. Someone as weak and pathetic as you could never deserve his attention, and yet-

"What was that?"

You froze. You hadn't meant for him to catch that, but your thoughts, loud in a good day, where always the loudest when you were like this, especially these ones.

"Sugar, look at me."

You slowly let go of him, but you couldn't look him in the eyes, focusing instead on his wings.

He sighed but let it pass. "Where does that come from?" he asked instead.

It's nothing.

"It's not nothing if it makes you feel like that."

It's just something the adults used to say when they were angry.

He hummed. "Was that the only thing they'd say?"

You didn't want to answer that and think again of all the mean things they would more often scream rather than say to you, but you didn't want to have to keep pretending they were always nice.

"I guess it's not really important what they said, because they were wrong," he said, voice harsh enough to make you flinch. He immediately softened. "Sorry, that wasn't at you. It upsets me knowing you were treated so poorly. But really, whatever they said, you are not like that."

But they were right. I can't do anything properly, and I just... Can't. It's so hard.

"Cupcake, stop. Listen to me."

This time he took your face in his hands to make sure you did.

"You're not a failure, weak or any other bullshit anyone may have said about you. You are strong, even if you don't realize it. You are trying, and that alone takes so much strength and effort. You're doing everything you can to fight against your own mind, and that must be so draining. It's totally understandable if you don't have any energy left to do more. But know this: if you ever need something, anything, I'll always be here for you."

There was so much conviction in his words, such surety in his eyes, that you couldn't find any words to express just how much they meant to you.

Only when his thumbs brushed your cheeks you realized you had started crying again.

"I'm not so great at comforting you, am I? I made you cry again."

You shook your head, then hugged him tight.

"Thank you."

It was merely a whisper, but he heard you. He always would.

"Anytime."

Some time passed in safe silence.

"Can I ask you something?" Gabriel said, voice soft.

You leaned back, tilted your head at him and blinked yes.

"You're mind, it feels... Smaller. What's about that?"

You flinched and looked away, worried again despite yourself, and curled up more.

It's weird. You'll get mad.

"I won't. I just want to make sure you're okay. I pinky promise." he held up a hand, all but one finger closed.

You looked at him, at his hand, away, at him again. Slowly you raised your hand and linked fingers, moving to complete the gesture.

"Now that that's sealed, is it okay to share?"

It's just. When I get very upset or very scared or very sad, I - you moved your hands in front of you, made a ball and made it shrink. It's not a decision and I can't control it. It just happens.

"And they made you feel bad enough to trigger it?" he said, voice taking an edge of steel again.

You fliched and made to move away.

I knew it, you're mad.

"Not with you, never to you, and never for something like this. Only with those two mutt heads," he said, looking somewhere past you with hard eyes.

It wasn't their fault. Dean just said some bad words.

His expression turned soft again when he looked back at you.

"Look at you, still trying to be kind, even when they were mean to you." He saw you trying to move away and added " I won't stop you from moving, if that's what you want, but you're free to snuggle for as long as you want. "

He opened his arms and wings, making way for you to push away from him, if you wanted, but he didn't seemed mad, and he was soft, and he was comforting...

Without looking at him, you gripped his shirt and shook your head.

He chuckled and closed his wings again.

You stayed like that for a while, neither of you feeling the need to move.

Until your eyelids started getting heavy.

He let out a small chuckle and pushed you back a little.

"Why don't you go to sleep? You'll feel better once you wake up."

You shook your head, fingers holding tight on the lapels of his jacket.

"C'mon. I'll be right here, I won't leave you alone."

Even with that reassurance, you were reluctant to move. There was something you wanted to ask, but you were hesitant. It felt like it would be too much, especially with everything he had done already.

As usual, you didn't even had to ask.

"What about this," he started, "You go get ready to sleep while I take care of a little thing. Then we'll have a little sleepover until you fall asleep. I've heard I make a terrific plushie. What do you have to say about that?"

You looked at him, eyes wide. He didn't have to stay, why would he offer such a thing?

" I want to," he said with a shrug, like it was the most simple thing in the world.

You finally mustered up enough courage to ask what you had always wondered

But why?

Why was he always so kind to you, why he was always there without asking anything in return, why he chose to spend his time with you, why -

"Because I love you," he said, then "Totally platonically right now, because you're small, and minds that are small must not worry about this things" he specified, booping you on the nose, "but the love remains, as it always will."

Two simple sentences that had the power to freeze any thought you may had.

Of course you loved him too, even if right now your mind felt it in a different way, but even when you were big, you had never thought he could see you as you were and still feel the same, but the deep affection in his eyes left no room for doubts. You looked away under such intense emotions.

Same.

He chuckled at your reply, cradling your face between his hands to make you look at him and leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. From there warmth spread all over your body, reminding you just how tired you were.

He booped your nose again. "Off you go to get ready so we can go to sleep, okay?"

You nodded and moved from his lap to let him stand up. He stretched, joints popping with too much gusto, and you watched, captivated, as his wings mirrored his movements. Then he rolled his shoulders back and they were gone.

He offered a hand with wiggling fingers, and you took it gratefully. You expected to feel a little rigid, as it would normally be after spending so much time curled up in a ball on the floor, but you were actually feeling very nice. You looked at him, and he winked.

"What's the point of being close with an Archangel if you can't have some benefits?"

You smiled tentatively, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that he considered you that important.

"Get ready. I'll be right back," he said, then vanished.

The room felt colder and darker without him, and you felt the need to curl up against a wall to shield yourself come up again, but you squared your shoulders and fought against it.

You changed into the cleanest pjs you could find and went into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face.

When you got back into your room, changed and cleaned and refreshed, you felt a little bit better.

As promised, Gabriel was already lying on top of the covers of your bed. He had changed too, swapping his forever attire for a more comfortable and softer looking one. He was surfing through the channels of a TV that wasn't there before, looking for something appropriate to watch, the volume just low enough to be heard without being overwhelming.

He put down the remote when he saw you and patted the free space beside him.

You crawled under the covers until only your head was peeking out a proper distance away. A part of you noticed that your room used to have barely enough space to move around, it surely wasn't large enough for a TV and a bed big enough for two people to comfortably lay with room to spare.

He noticed your confused looking around.

"I renewed your room a little," he said, "I hope you don't mind."

You felt how soft the mattress under you was and shook your head.

It's okay. It's soft and comfy.

"Of course it is. Only the best for you."

Thank you.

"Don't mention it. Now, there is something you want to watch or are you ready to go to sleep?"

You thought of your favorite comfort movie of when you were small but like, actually small, and things were well, not the nicest but nicer, but you couldn't remember the name, so you just thought what you could remember of it at him.

"Wonderful choice. Now close your eyes and let it pull you into sleep."

You nodded and closed your eyes, a hand inching towards him until you could hold a fist of his shirt. It really was soft. Just a little reminder that he was there, that you weren't alone.

With your eyes closed you didn't see him fondly roll his eyes and reach out to you.

You jumped, eyes snapping open as you felt a gentle pull.

You looked up to Gabriel, and he smiled.

"Sorry for not warning you, but, as I told you, you can come closer and cuddle to your heart's content. I mentioned to you that I'm a great plushie, didn't I? It would be suspicious if I didn't let it test it for yourself."

You had been too shy to ask, but if he was offering, it must have been okay. So you snuggled closer, your hands trading his shirt for one of his hands and curling around it until you were a tiny ball by his side, and he didn't seem to mind having a blocked hand.

Exhausted from feeling all the big emotions of the day and lulled by the familiarity of the movie, it didn't take long before you started to feel heavy.

Just before you fell asleep you felt something soft and warm cover you, and you felt so safe and loved that a single tear escaped your eyes before finally entering the dream world.

#gabriel x reader #reader insert #spn #spn gabriel #supernatural #tw panicking #Tw panic attack #Age regression #Not sure if that one should be tagged as tw but let's put it to be safe

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scham-wcan · 4 months

Note

CinWin

2, 8, 18, 32, 37

Your wish is my command, CinWin coming up

2. Any sleep habits either had to get used to? I feel as though, especially early on both of them are insanely light sleepers for very different reasons. Winter still has the high strung soldier mentality where she' sleep anywhere but pop up fighting ready, while Cinder is just haunted by memories and nightmares constantly. It takes effort but gradually Winter gets used to waking up to Cinder cursing herself out and Cinder gets used to sleuthing around to try and avoid waking her up. While Winter's Schnee sleep phase kicks in later and she finally gets the whole 'sleeping in' thing Cinder's light sleeping doesn't go away as much as she can contend with it--lotta nightmares still but she's able to rationalise them now.

8. What’s one way their personalities compliment one another? The most obvious way I think is Cinder is snarky and rather crude in how she acts and behaves while Winter very much still tries to restrain herself in a lot of manners so she comes across as blunt or passive aggressive. All of which come across easily whenever they are less than pleased with something, its almost like being analytically dispatched by the mean girls at a party for not wearing pink. Also they're both very intelligent and combat oriented, so organisation and anything involving planning they are both already planning/scheming a way to get things done.

18. What song fits them perfectly? I have like eight Kiss Me You Animal - Burn the Ballroom Spillways - Ghost Rapture - Ok Goodnight Demons - Hayley Kiyoko Glitter & Gold - Barns Courtney Femme Fatale - Coyote Kid Supermassive Black Hole - Muse Vultures - Vigil of War

32. How do they resolve their arguments? So my gut says that at the start of their relationship they were really difficult to deal with arguments. Winter really restrains herself just as much as Cinder because there is some shock horror that "what if I say the wrong thing and then I lose them forever?" so a lot of what really could cause arguments is dismissed in really unhealthy ways. But as time goes on and eventually they on a more secure ground their arguments turn either into heated debates where both of them get their whole point in, though from the outside everyone thinks they are about to break up, while eventually just finding a bridge between the two of them. Other than that I mean sparring for it seems on the table in a lot of respects if their emotions are that high.

37. What do they like the least about each other? See this is the difficult one with otps cause obviously the answer you want it to be is nothing but Cinder and Winter probably still have so much baggage. Cinder I think despises how needing Winter is for approval still, from Ironwood, Atlas, and from whoever the next allegiant Winter devotes herself to it just seems like Winter is never allowed to really express herself because of that need to be a good solider. The worst being that if it is Cinder and the strong warrior Schnee starts treating her like someone who can do no wrong, when Cinder would be so bitter about it to the point of an argument probably. Otherwise Winter is too work oriented, she needs to be doing something and is incapable of enjoying the wealth they've earned to be where they are now. Sort of parallel to Cinder, Winter almost finds Cinder's self devotion nauseating, not like she's repulsed by it, but it is an ideological thing of who is Cinder going to be fighting for whenever something happens. The answer naturally is what she has earned and what she values, which Cinder knows is Winter but its difficult to tell her that while she's pissy. But more than that what Cinder hates Winter for in her idle hands Winter just as much sees that in Cinder, she's still so skittish and restless, a handover of the time where she had nothing. But as much as they dislike those parts of the other it still seems that they're things which the other finds endearing about their partner. Like Cinder's anxiety about loss speaks to how much she values Winter even though Winter knows she isn't going anywhere. Just like how Winter's need to be dutifully loyal has transitioned to being about Cinder and their family, even as much as Cinder disdains being hailed as the steerer of that ship, Winter would run through fire for her.

#fanfictionsrookie #cinder fall #winter schnee #cinwin #snowfall #otp asks #scham rambles

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talentforlying · 2 months

Note

So gemma using magic in general is one thing, how would john feel about gemma getting deeper into magic? Like, going from occasionally casting Basic Shield Spell but otherwise living a normal life, to being some sort of wizard full time

ARE YOU THE SAME ANON FROM THE LAST GEMMA QUESTION!! regardless i love you for this.

ultimately, i think he'd see gemma getting full-blown into magic as a failure on his part, and as a betrayal of his sister's wishes for her. (a betrayal by him, not by gemma.) and john reacts to his own failures by trying to correct them at any cost, regardless of who else's decisions were involved. so he'd be upset, definitely guilty, definitely exasperated and shit-scared for her, maybe a little angry. he's never going to want her to see all the awful, awful shit that he's had to, that he knows she will see if she continues, and he might even sabotage her at points to try and drive her out of the life; just social, high-school-clique stuff, getting important connections like clarice to refuse dealings with her, scaring off artifact brokers, things like that.

but i do think eventually john would come to realize that if gemma's determined to be an occultist, and a serious one at that — which, even john doesn't think of his magic as a full-time gig — then it'd be better for her to want to come to him for advice or assistance, knowing he'd always be willing to help, than for her to want to keep him in the dark as much as possible, knowing there's a non-zero chance of him being a pain in the ass to her about her future plans. he knows that gemma's smart, and savvy, and as well aware as he is by now that people will lie, cheat, steal, and kill to get what they want in this world; despite his inclination towards overprotectiveness, i think he'd come to trust that she can keep herself alive. bottom line, he'd end up working to establish himself in her orbit as a conflicted but stalwart source of backup, information, and offered comfort, so that she never has to go it alone the way he often has.

(i also think he might be secretly relieved that there's another constantine on the scene to take on the hard jobs, the endless violence, the ceaseless horrors. he'd be guilty as hell about feeling that way, because that's his niece and he doesn't want her seeing any of it, but it'd mean he could maybe retire from the constant vigil knowing there's someone he trusts handling things. and maybe become gemma's link back to normalcy in the same way cheryl was for him, if the retirement lasts.)

and, again, he'd come to be so proud of her. sometimes you just can't walk away from knowing something bad is happening, he knows that better than anyone, and to see that quality in gemma would lighten his heart tremendously.

(assuming that's why she continues in magic, of course; if she's just seeking fame and power, he'd do everything he could to shut her out of that world in a heartbeat, and take her hatred for it all the way to the grave.)

#( ooc. ) OUT OF CIGS.#THANK YOU FOR THIS QUESTION I STARTED VIBRATING AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT #john and gemma's relationship is something so personal to me #she's the one area of his life where he tries to actually have his shit together at all times because he truly cares what she thinks of him #and because what happens to her is more important to him than his own life. always will be #he thinks that she finally got to see him as the mess he is when the beast of eden struck. when cheryl died. when the empathy virus hit #and i feel that he has been clawing his way back up from that ever since to try and be her uncle john again the way he used to be #and he is Terrified that he can never succeed because she's in the life with him now #so she will always hear and see and know when he fucks up through the grapevine. that scares him SO bad #and then the idea of her going full-blown wizard and ending up at some of the dark haunted places he's been? maybe having her own newcastle #Horrifying. absolutely Fucked. no thank you #but if she CHOOSES to risk that then.....fuck man. at least he can be there for her should her newcastle arise #( gemma masters. ) THAT'S MY NIECE YOU PIECE OF SHIT!#( headcanons. ) I'M JUST LIKE THE BASTARDS I'VE HATED ALL ME LIFE.#( answered. ) THIS IS JOHN CONSTANTINE. FUCK OFF.

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evanthenerd83 · 6 months

Text

Holly & The Demon Confess Their Sins

Father O’Rille heard the knocking on the door.

His eyes glanced at his wristwatch. Three thirty-three.

The witching hour. Concern filled his old locked heart. Possibilities presented themselves.

A desperate soul looking for absolution? An early morning confession? Maybe one of the community’s many troubled teens, pressured by peers and the modern world, simply wanted to talk.

Whoever it was, they needed help.

And there was no way Ronald O’Rille would turn his back on those in need.

He removed his reading glasses, tucking them into their case. Then that case was slipped into a pocket.

Another knock-knock-knock. Louder this time. More desperate, it seemed.

The concern deepened.

He next slipped the soft tassel between Matthew 5:21 and 5:22. The King James Bible was gently placed on a pew. It joined a haphazardly forgotten sermon book.

O’Rille made his way towards the big wooden doors. They’d been aged by thunderstorms, snowstorms, the elements, wannabe artists with spray paint, among other incorrigibles.

Souls trapped between Heaven and Hell. Those who abandoned prayer and silent reflection for eating Dy-pods and filming themselves drunk driving. Kids who’d never experienced the harsh love of a nun’s ruler.

Something flashed through his mind. An image of a grim-faced woman swinging a fifty-inch ruler.

O’Rille shuddered. He remembered his time at Saint Fyrenne Catholic School.

He never wanted to remember.

Shaking away repressed trauma, O’Rille forgave the past. There were more important things to dwell on.

Speaking of which…

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!

The knocking rang out. It seemed like thunder, or some Nephilem was stomping towards the church.

Dust and wood shavings danced lightly from the rafters.

O’Rille frowned. He spent hours watching Anne work up high. She’d swipe and wipe with a damp washcloth, balancing on a rickety old ladder.

She should’ve gotten all of it.

But the knocking revealed otherwise. Truely, Mother Superior had been right: The faithful needed to be vigilant.

Evil stood on every street corner. Or waited in the shadows.

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!

“Coming!”

O’Rille felt his heart go thu-thu-thump. The concern was now long gone. It’d been replaced by fear.

Fear for the sake of the poor soul no doubt knocking on his front door.

It must have been serious. Gravely serious. Maybe someone needed an exorcism performed.

He hadn’t undertaken Exorcism 101 at Saint Fyrenne Catholic School. Nor did he choose the necessary electives during his seminary years.

Too many prayer parties to attend.

But he did know Archangel Michael’s Blessing.

That verse’d been chiseled into his head. Mother Superior forced all her students to learn it, repeat it, over and over again. Before breakfast. Before dinner.

In their sleep.

He shuddered again.

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!

This time, the whole building shook. Dust coated the floor like snow. O’Rille quickly glanced back at the sermon room, where the large cross wobbled.

Right above the rows and rows of lit candles.

In the middle of an old church constructed with such trustworthy materials as wood.

He quickened his pace.

“Goodness,” he whispered.

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!

“What,” he gripped the handle.

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!

He pushed hard. “Is”

One of the doors creaked open.

“Wron—”

And the pistol clicked.

…

Holly’s aim was steady.

Cool. Collected.

The barrel didn’t shake an inch. If fired, it was obvious what part of the pastor’s anatomy would get shredded. All three of them knew that.

She glanced towards her companion. “See Dem? Told you someone was in.”

The pastor blinked.

“Well,” the demon said. “There was always a chance. Wasn’t there?”

It didn’t bother with Its human disguise. No reason too.

It held a paper bag in each arm. They were close to bursting.

Holly rolled her eyes. Then focused them back on the pastor. A soft smile stretched dry, cracked lips.

“I’m sorry for bothering you, sir. But we need your help with something.”

The pastor blinked again.

His mouth fell open wide. Nearly nicked the floor. Fear grew thicker and thicker with every heartbeat.

The demon looked down at Its shoe, the lace untied.

It leaned too far. A can of bean-dip toppled from the precarious tower of food stuff.

Rolling. Rolling. Rolling away.

“Ah,” It yelped. “No. Not again!”

The pastor watched as It reached out a hand… No, a claw. It had no hands.

Only claws. With five reptilian, sharper than sharp nails. Nails It no doubt would no doubt dig into his feeble mortal flesh.

Would no doubt run across his throat. His wrists. Severing the blue lines just barely sheltered by the skin. Releasing a torrent of crimson upon holy ground.

“Um,” Holly waved a hand. “Hello?”

It’d bleed him dry. Oh yes, it would.

A demon would love to torture a man of God. Inflict pain and agony on a servant of Its greatest enemy, the savior of mankind. It would go slow. Enjoying the way his screams would echo within the church.

“Hello,” Holly snapped her fingers. “Earth to priest. Earth to priest.”

It’d rip him apart. Because that’s what demons do.

oh, yes, slithered an awful voice, we do

Fear solidified as if concrete.

we rip you apart fingertip from fingertip toenail to toenail we will go up up up godman up from fingertips and toenails to fingers and toes and then knuckles then hands and feet we will wretch your arms and legs from their sockets

He felt his crotch go wet. Something streamed down his leg, pooling into his shoes.

His heart jack-hammered against his ribs. Lungs turned to ice. The fear snarled behind him, fangs bared; hungry.

Like a beast. A wolf.

we will rip your guts out and tie them around your neck that tree out back seems tall enough close enough to your box your empty box maybe you will still be alive by the time we do maybe we will leave you in your precious little box and anne will find you find you all in pieces tiny little pieces maybe we will make you like a jigsaw puzzle oh we just love jigsaw puzzles Something cold.

Something cold and steel.

“Snap out of it,” Holly hissed.

That finally did it. The pastor blinked once, twice, thrice. The red haze covering his pupils dissipated.

He slowly looked over at her.

The girl. The sixteen-year-old in a blood-stained Catholic school uniform. Blond hair curling upward. Green eyes bright.

Bright with the hunger.

Wolf eyes.

He jolted.

“Wh-what do you want, my… child?”

She held up a finger.

She dug around inside her pocket.

She brought it out lickety-split.

And smiled her wolf-smile.

“Can you bless this?”

A condom.

Still in the wrapper.

The pastor blushed. He quickly looked away, choosing to focus on something else. Anything else.

Not because he was embarrassed by it.

No. He had no reason to be embarrassed.

Because the condom was his.

“Wh-where did you—”

“At a motel.”

“A-a motel?”

“Yep.”

“Which one?”

“The, uh, the,” Holly rubbed her temple with the barrel of the pistol. “What the #$@&, the… I’m gonna say… the one with that god-awful name…”

The pastor began to sweat.

Oh please, he thought. Please god, no, no, no.

Holly snapped her fingers. “... Ah, the Ja-Jat-Jake—”

The Ja-Ka Motel.

“... The Ja-Ka Motel! The Ja-Ka Motel! You know, the one in, uhhhhhh…”

The pastor hoped against it. Prayed that he was just mistaken. That the condom this girl was holding, that she wanted him to bless, wasn’t…

… Couldn’t have been…

… Shouldn’t have been…

“...”

“... Oregon?”

“...”

“Near that one mall,” Holly turned around as the demon approached. “Dem, you remember that mall?”

It held the bags tighter than before.

An eyebrow cocked. “Which one?”

She stared at It. “You know. The one that burned down?”

“Which one?”

“You know, Dem.”

It tilted Its head. “Ummmm…”

Holly lowered the pistol, then took a step towards It. A faint heat bloomed in her cheeks.

“You know…”

The demon’s eyes shot up. It thought a good long while. Almost for a full minute.

Before…

“Nope. I don’t know. Sorry.”

“Oh. #$@& you.”

“Oh. That one!”

Holly glared hard. “Seriously. #$@& you.”

The pastor watched this exchange with a passive, cool detachment. Like a bystander during an absurd comedy act.

Or an inmate on death row.

He knew he needed to do something.

Obviously the girl was innocent.

The demon was ultimately responsible. It had no doubt tricked the poor girl into becoming Its slave, induced such foul language.

She must have killed someone.

A lot of someones, considering the amount of blood-stains. Maybe millions.

His eyes focused on the condom.

He took a deep breath.

“Why would you think I’d remember? It’s been so long since then!”

“Well, EX-CUUUSEE me for caring! Dickhead.”

“You? Caring? Please all you care about, missy, is taking a literal bloodbath!”

“Are you #$@&ing kink-shaming me, you #$@&ing clit-muncher?”

He weighed his options.

Expose his past sins, and maybe further sully the already deathbed reputation of the Catholic church.

Or bless this condom, allow the forces of Hell to further drag the poor girl’s soul to hell, but salvage his own reputation in the process.

“I just want to have fun, Dem! THAT’S ALL I WANT! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LET ME HAVE—”

“BECAUSE YOUR KIND OF FUN IS KILLING PEOPLE, HOLLY! YOU KILL PEOPLE!”

He cleared his throat.

Both of them stopped screaming.

They turned towards the pastor, who had his hands clasped behind his back.

“Please, child,” he stepped aside. “Come inside.”

…

“I’ll be staying outside.”

Holly looked at the demon.

“Why?”

It pointed up. She followed Its finger towards the topmost spire, and the large cross painted pure white.

“Oh. Right.”

She shrugged. Her hair bounced with the motion.

She walked through the front door of the church. “Just hide in the bushes, or something.”

…

Holly whistled.

O’Rille briefly felt a bit of pride. But quickly squashed that down.

Pride was a sin, after all.

He still had to admit, though. She was a thing of awe. ‘She’ meaning the church.

Unlike other pastors and priests, O’Rille didn’t hold such perverted desires. Only thing which brought a slight tent to his robes was a good, ol’ leatherbound Holy Bible.

The church was old. It’d been built during the early 1800s by a husband and wife pair.

A kindly couple whose trek down the infamous Mooney Trail revived not just their marriage, but also their faith.

Many once flocked to its halls for salvation, guidance, and forgiveness.

Things all out of stock at all the other churches currently popping up all over the place.

No-one visited this church. Per the national statistic, attendance dropped from 300 a Sunday to 0 a year.

Oh well, thought O’Rille. More heaven for me.

“Wow.”

Holly took it in.

The pews with cracks slowly reaching upwards.

The floor scuffed by decades of shoes shuffling about.

She found it impressive. How, in all its years of existence, no-one had thought to gently, ever so gently, knock over those candles. One small nudge.

And there’d be a fire. A grand ol’ fire.

One that witches once danced around. Nude. Laughing. Maybe slaughtering a lamb or virgin for their wicked patrons.

God, Holly thought. I wish I was alive back then.

O’Rille cleared his throat.

Her attention snapped back. One hand tightened around the pistol. Grooved ridges against flesh.

The other hand instantly fell away. It’d barely reached the hemline of her skirt.

A look crossed over his face. One Holly recognized well. The demon usually had the exact same expression.

Disgust. Concern.

Barely concealed… fear?

Of course.

Of course he’d be afraid of her. She’d pointed a gun at his head.

And why shouldn’t he be? There was still a possibility she would kill him afterwards, right? It wasn’t everyday Holly Slaughter would spare someone.

Unless she was tired.

She unconsciously slowed down.

O’Rille stepped around the lectern, hands slapping down on its flat surface. Candlelight flickered behind him. His shadow grew large.

He reached out expectantly.

“Well, come on. Let’s get this thing over with.”

Holly blinked.

O’Rille tilted his head. A friendly smile flashed.

The smile of a shepherd helping a stray lamb.

How sweet. She rolled her eyes. Next he would be asking her to recite the Lord’s Prayer several dozen times.

Maybe throw in a couple hundred Hail Marys for good measure.

Anything to save her soul.

The smile widened.

“Well?”

Holly blinked again.

Then approached the lectern.

Why not? Pastors were always trying to save souls, even those who didn’t want to be.

Goths knew this better than anyone. Holly wasn’t an atheist; she believed in God and angels and all that crap.

She knew an actual demon. That proved the supernatural existed.

She stretched out her own hand, ready to drop the condom.

O’Rille grabbed her wrist, fingers closing. Quicker than she could realize. The condom fell to the lectern.

“What the #$@& are you—”

He pulled her.

Her stomach hit the edge, and pain briefly sang; an opera of agony. Thoughts went dumb.

She tried to raise the pistol.

Wrath flashed its fangs. Fear hissed, ears flat against its skull; ready for war. One twitch of a finger.

And everything would be over.

Over.

But he moved quicker still.

A hand was thrust against the barrel, sending it up. Off target.

Out of her hands. It toppled to the floor. It laid dead.

She opened her mouth, not to scream, but to curse.

That hand smothered those words.

O’Rille was now leaning over, close, danger close. Goosebumps flared down her spine.

Wrath and Fear pounced—

“How long?”

He whispered.

“How long has that… that thing been…”

… And were pulled back. Confusion tugged roughly on their leashes, leashes that hadn’t been there before. It wagged a finger; tisk-tisk.

Holly stared at him.

Anger simmered. She released.

“... I know, you know, that thing isn’t your friend, right? I know it’s been leading you astray from God’s light, telling you to do such awful things.”

He glanced mournfully at her uniform.

The sleeves stained by blood. Some of it had long since dried, turned brown. The majority was still red, wet, and dripping.

In their struggle, specks were flicked.

A little droplet pockmarked his collar.

Holly’s eyebrow curled.

“You know I’m right.”

Holly stared daggers.

“You know,” he tightened his grip. “I’m right.”

They were deflected by a pure heart. A kind heart. Not quite spotless, yet ultimately well-meaning.

Holly didn’t care about good intentions.

All she cared about was survival.

And while it was annoying, and would whine about spilled blood, she’d managed to survive with It. The demon.

Dem.

“I-I can help you! I might not be a sanctioned exorcist, but I-I still know the Prayer! And there are some chains in the basement! Just say the word and…”

This pastor hadn’t burned down that mall.

He hadn’t set the trap for those pig-#$@&ers at the motel.

He hadn’t helped her.

Helped her.

Help, she thought.

“... And I can get rid of it! Okay? You understand… Right?!”

Dem. Help.

He smiled even wider. Far too wide.

She glanced at the big wooden doors.

…

Crunch.

Crumbs fell from permanently chapped lips. They scattered across a lap.

The demon kept chewing. It glanced down.

Subtle movement. It peered closer at the ground. Fire ants were marching, dangerously close to Its hoofs.

Innumerable. This legion had been coaxed out by Its presence, like other hateful creatures of the Earth. Snakes emerged from beneath rocks. Hornets swarmed the closest priest.

Fetuses went all Brocky on their mothers.

Merely stepping on solid ground seemed to trigger an alarm present in all living things. Danger! Danger! Demon! Demon!

It swept away the crumbs, casting them down, like Its own personal Lucifers.

Then shoved a hand back into the can of potato chips.

…

Glanced back.

Oh, she rolled her eyes. #$@& it.

She suddenly, violently shook her head. Like a dog tearing into a chew toy.

“H-hey,” the pastor struggled to hold on. “Wait a minute, just—”

She wouldn’t wait a minute.

His hand fell away. A mouth opened, and fresh air filled aching lungs.

She bent over, coughed.

“Jesus #$@&ing Christ on a Stick,” she backed away. “The #$@& are you talking about?!”

The smile vanished.

O’Rille blinked.

“I’m… What?”

Holly felt her feet bump into something. She looked down and, upon seeing a familiar black sheen, smiled to herself.

She grabbed the pistol.

O’Rille raised both hands. “Wait! Wait! Wait!”

“Wait for what,” Holly gritted her teeth. “For you to hurt him?”

“Hurt him?”

“Yes,” Holly aimed the pistol. Her aim was steady, nice and cool. Collected.

They both knew, if it fired, what part of his anatomy would be blown right off.

O’Rille covered his groin. He looked at her with wide, unblinking eyes. As if he couldn’t believe it.

The insinuation.

“Y-you call it a… a him?”

“What of it?”

O’Rille shook his head. He remained on the opposite side of the lectern.

“You… You…”

His head dropped.

“You were just… Talking to it. Just… Like you’re friends. A-and you called it… You called it… ‘Dem.’ You called it… You gave it a nickname…”

The tremors started, then rolled all over.

Holly saw the chance. At the same time, Wrath saw the wheel, left unoccupied. They both took it.

She backed away from him.

Slowly at first. Then fast. Her hair stopped being curly and turned straight as an arrow.

He wasn’t worth it. His blood wouldn’t be worth the hassle of extending energy.

Plus… He was nutso. Out of his mind. Delusional. How did he not understand what kind of relationship the demon and her had?

What kind of relationship…

“... You still carried around that condom… F-for months… Months and months… Which means…”

She was close.

The doors were right there, coming up ahead. Just a few more strides and then…

She could barely hear his muttering. His voice had gone low, dry. Cracking.

… One more step, and…

“... Which m-means…”

… She grabbed the handle.

She pushed—

“... You love him.”

… Freeze.

Full stop.

Muscle paralysis.

“Holly,” O’Rille croaked.

His voice was like death. Old and broken.

Weak from disbelief. A smidge of disgust. A dollop of horrid, overly judgemental hatred.

Holly twitched.

“Holly,” O’Rille croaked, louder this time.

Holly slowly, ever so slowly turned around, eyes wide, bright, full of something far worse than any sociopathic apathy.

“Do you,” O’Rille gagged.

An element far worse than any hemophiliac fetish.

“Do you… Love it?”

Boom.

Supernova.

Cataclysm.

World-shaking. Mind breaking. Unmorring not everything, but pretty damn close to everything.

Holly stared.

Her eyes shone with pure, unadulterated, horrifying panic.

Minutes passed.

An hour.

The demon dug around, reaching for yet another bag of chips. It could sense it. Flavor danced upon Its tongue.

Sour cream and cheddar. Drool sizzled against Its chin.

A creaking sound. Then a heavy thump. So loud it made the demon jump.

It stared at Holly as she calmly walked away from the church.

“Uh,” It blinked. “Holly?”

She didn’t respond. Simply passed It by, choosing a random direction.

It looked around. Opened bags and wrappers littered the ground, strewn about. Hell of a mess.

A hell of a mess.

#evanthenerd83's storytime #holly and the demon #black comedy #crime drama #urban fantasy #comedy horror #short story #creative writing #original writing #October 2023 #satire

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sinisterexaggerator · 2 years

Text

Title: Daimyo Bane

Inspired by: this work of art

For: Bounty Hunter Week 2022. Based on the theme: “Fan creations involving divergent AU's - E.G, Modern AU, Old West, Regency AU, ect “

Word count: 1.9K +

Summary: An alternate universe / AU where Cad Bane is the Daimyo of Tatooine, guarding his hoard of treasure and credits like a dragon while the people suffer and Boba Fett has come to save the day. Or, an alternate ending / retelling of the BOBF duel between Bane and Fett.

Warnings: Blood, gore, death.

Note: I wrote this in a hurry so as not to miss the deadline, sorry for the lack of editing!

The sound of creaking dusky leather echoed throughout the antechamber of the palace, cutting the eerie silence in twain like the oscillation of a well-honed vibroknife. Cad Bane leaned against the armrest of his throne upon its dais, his lanky body stretched over to one side. Lithe digits adorned in cutoff gloves plucked a chewed-up toothpick from his lips, the brim of the Daimyo’s wide bolero hat shading his cruel, tempestuous eyes. They were red - like the fresh human blood that had spilt upon the sand strewn floor. Tatooine was his territory.

Beneath his outstretched legs, no Rancor lied in wait. Cad Bane was judge, jury, and executioner of his self-sanctioned subjects. He was an unforgiving lord, his adept hand brandishing punishments that rivaled even the darkest, most sinister acts of retribution that Jabba had himself administered.

In his left grip, one LL-30 BlasTech pistol smoldered; a single shot was all it took. Superheated plasma possessed of an explosive quality imparted kinetic and thermal force to his unlucky target; it released rapidly - extensive damage to the surrounding tissues and organs was the result.

There would be no gold, no credits added to the hoard beneath him where the Hutt’s pet used to dine on sentients, the Duros ever vigilant, protective, and untrusting of any petitioners who came to knock. If they were not there to pay him tribute, what good were their meager lives? This one had made the mistake of thinking Cad Bane merciful.

Thieves hounded him in the night, stealing his precious vaporators; his hard-earned moisture. When asked what recompense he had in mind he spoke of being destitute; he had nothing to offer him; taxes were already too high.

It was a sin that could not be so easily forgiven. Cad Bane was the victim here; this man had failed him. To waste his time, to expect something for free? It was ludicrous, and he would serve as an example to those he so callously presided.

His court was another story; he kept the company of mercenaries, women; dancers, slaves and jesters. In addition, there were service-droids, ones programmed for protocol, chefs, tailors, musicians, bartenders - a plethora of varied subordinates. Todo 360 remained as his familiar, his right-hand “man,” dictating to him the behind the scenes. Rumors, lies, uprisings. He was there when Cad Bane couldn’t be.

He earned his reward in the form of oil; baths noted to be luxurious. He was pristine, shiny, and somewhat perky – he was leading his best life under the fickle Daimyo.

Another man came to stand before him. This one was a bounty hunter – he could be trusted, as he had pledged his loyalty, though Cad knew it was to a degree.

Jobs were scarce on the desert planet – Cad had made sure of that. Anyone who wanted to earn their keep; their credits, would have to go through him.

He was a Zabrak of pale coloration, horns extruding from his head. His tattoos were black and intricate, and he wore an outfit of Gundark leather. “Master Bane, pardon my intrusion, but I have news.”

Todo 360 spoke up first, his little arms waving frantically in the air around him, spinning circles as he hemmed and hawed. “How dare you expect an audience with Bane without an appointment! People have been shot for less than this! Why, if it were up to me, you would be-”

“Todo…” Cad Bane’s sonorous voice rang out in the otherwise quiet hall, the slow drawl with which he addressed his droid adding a quality of criticism as he scolded and berated him without so much as another word.

The droid felt chastised; he zipped his nonexistent lips. He came down off his high horse and waited patiently for his reprimand, no matter what form it took.

“Wha’d Ah tell ye about speakin’ fer me?” Cad unceremoniously castoff his toothpick with a flick of his reedy wrist, no other motions made as the Zabrak watched this exchange with an open mouth.

“That if I did it again you would ionize my vocabulator and have it replaced with the vocoder of a Gonk droid, thus trapping my intelligent mind with the inability to convey coherent thought and effectually torturing me.”

Two spindly fingers snapped together activating a pair of green Gamorrean guards. They righted to attention, following their master’s unspoken orders.

They had been given electrostaffs; one shocked Todo as he begged Cad to reconsider, though the Duros watched on with glee, a faint hint of a smile spread out across his haggard countenance.

The other brute lifted the little droid’s now lifeless body and dragged him off, Daimyo Bane finally shifting his attention to the Zabrak on one knee before him. His neck craned upward laggardly, revealing an icy gaze though crimson, alight with an insatiable, voracious lust for power and laced with an air of dominance.

“Sspit it out,” Bane seethed.

The hunter faltered; he tarried, stock still; stationary - a short length of time passed before he regained his traction and was able to verbalize. “The one named Boba Fett walks the streets of Mos Eisley. He has called you a coward – nothing short of a brigand, a ruffian, and that you are unfit to lead the people of Tatooine.”

The metaphor “don’t shoot the messenger” did not apply in this scenario, as Cad Bane did him in on that very spot. He hadn’t moved a muscle save for his trigger finger; the blaster still loosely bridled within his hand.

The Zabrak fell as Cad Bane stood. Those who filled his chambers averted or downcast their eyes. He replaced his Persuader; traipsed forward, his crooked teeth exposed with a snarl to communicate his current mood.

The Duros adjusted his lengthy duster over his no-fight holster; tweaked and repositioned his armored hat across that accursed metal plate. He had a score to settle; Cad Bane was no coward, and Boba Fett would meet his Maker on this day.

---

Durasteel-toed boots crunched sand and gravel, Bane’s gangly form approaching from the Dune Sea of Tatooine. The heat of the noonday suns distorted and contorted the very nitrogen and oxygen of this planet’s atmosphere, producing a stifling aftereffect that made it hard to breathe.

It was just so blazing hot out - even for a cold-blooded creature who had trouble regulating his body’s own internal temperature. Luckily, Bane was fitted with breathing tubes and an apparatus that aided him in any and all climates, this one being no exception. His broad hat served another purpose; one used in shielding his precision vision - the amount of light reflecting off the granules at his feet was almost overwhelming.

Bystanders either fled, or corralled closer in the near to empty streets. There was a storm coming; one that would rain laser bolts, Cortosis ore, green blood, or red. Boba’s beskar armor shielded the human male beneath, his expression hidden conveniently by his Mandalorian style helmet; his father’s, his dark eyes studying the brooding figure looming in the distance; the reason for his visit.

“So, you’ve finally shown yourself, old man,” Boba taunted him, one hand resting upon his weapon’s hilt. He had a quickdraw that rivaled his former mentor, though they had a draw all those years ago.

“If it isn’t lil’ Boba Fett. Heard ye were callin’ me out. ‘Ere te help dhose in need, are ye? Just like old times… Ye always were … weak,” the Duros hissed through gritted teeth. His own hands idled at his hips, fingers itching, desiring to end the bounty hunter’s life.

“You and I have different concepts of weakness, Bane. To me, it is weakness to succumb to greed and not protect those who look to you for leadership, oh mighty Daimyo.” Fett’s words were laced with sarcasm, knowing to jape at Cad Bane’s expense was a death sentence for most, though Boba had the means to take him out if it were his lucky day.

“And ye think ye cahn do one betta, do ye? Yer just as cold-blooded as me, Fett … sso sself-righteous… yer nothin’ but a hypocrite. Doesn’ matta what side ye picked, yer still a killer, Boba – ye comin’ te kill me, afta’ all.”

Bane’s upper lip rose to curl above his fangs, egging the clone on.

“The end justifies the means.”

Boba pulled his blaster, but Bane was too quick for him. A sole LL-30 had been withdrawn from the holsters at his hips. Cad took his shot; it bounced off Boba’s armor, though Boba’s rang clear and true and struck Cad in his chest.

The Duros was knocked back; he fell, though the armorweave below his tunic had protected him. He played dead for a moment, the younger man striding forward across the sand. Boba stood above him, unsure, skeptical of his quick demise. He raised his blaster for another shot when Cad sprang forward and wrested it from his hand.

“Didn’t know ye were sso gullible,” the Daimyo growled.

Boba was left open as Bane administered a shock from his contact stunners. The jolt of electricity had Fett on his knees. The surrounding crowds were gaping, cheering, crying, or hiding out of sight. No one would voice aloud their opinions, but they hoped Boba would win the fight.

Cad Bane took the time to gloat, rising to his feet. He snatched the jostled hunter’s helmet off his head and glared down at him, a snarl issuing forth from the hollows of his throat, his voice husky and peppered with condescension.

“Let dhis be yer final lesson, Boba. Look out fer yerself. Anything else’s weakness.”

Bane made the motions to pull his trigger but was sorely interrupted by projectiles launching at this close range. Boba had released the weapons hidden in his own forearm gauntlets, the tiny blades embedding themselves in Cad Bane’s guts.

The hunter teetered; lost his balance, he stumbled but raised his gun again. Boba had recovered, kicked his LL-30 out and away from him as he moved to remove the second from its holster, green blood oozing out and down his clothing.

Fett tackled him, driving him into the sandy earth. He gathered Bane’s own blaster from his loosened grip, then activated his jetpack thruster. He rebounded off his old mentor, then faced him once again.

Unarmed, the Duros appeared pathetic. His hat had been knocked off. He was bleeding profusely from his many open wounds, yet he still had the nerve.

“Always knew ye were a killer.” He raised his arm to send a stream of fire. Boba dodged, rolled, and killed Cad Bane with his own blaster. The plasma shot tore through his already weakened armorweave, the Duros’ ruby eyes going dark as he gasped for one last breath of air.

Boba Fett threw the LL-30 on the ground. He frowned down at the now lifeless body of the Daimyo. In another life, perhaps they would have been friends, partners, but Bane’s lust for power had corrupted him and he had been left beyond redemption, just another crime lord who deserved to be stripped of his station and his title.

“Maybe so,” he spoke after the fact, “but only because you forced my hand.”

Boba bent forward, closed Bane’s eyelids with the draw of his gloved fingers. He left him with two credits; something to pay the ferryman so his soul wouldn’t have to wander; the rest of his would be redistributed to the masses. Fett would make things right; the Daimyo’s cruel rule was at its end.

#Cad Bane #Bountyhunterweek2022 #Duros #Daimyo Bane #Boba Fett #BOBF #AU #Star Wars #Bounty Hunters #Fanfic

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titansmix · 7 months

Text

Gar's First True Friend

Jillian Jackson was one of the few bright spots of Gar Logan’s childhood. The two met when Gar began public schooling as Nicholas Galtry’s ward. While Jillian was seen as normal by Gar, she was seen as an outcast by her peers. She was smart, too smart; reading ahead in class and passing every test with ease. Having lost her mother in a car accident, Jillian was overly protected by her father. She was taught to be afraid of anything and everything. Despite this, she had a great curiosity about the world around her, even the weird parts. Jillian was initially put off by Gar, worrying his green coloring was a sign of some contagious ailment. However, when it was made clear that Gar’s oddities were his and his alone, she became more curious than anything else. While Jillian’s curiosity initially reminded Gar of being poked and prodded by scientists, this changed when she began asking questions about him as a person, not just his mutations. It didn’t take long for the pair to become friends. While Jillian endured teasing for her friendship with Gar, she didn’t care. Bullying was nothing new to her. Gar, on the other hand, was very bothered. He wanted to lash out at them in his animal forms, but he knew that would get him in trouble. Even baring his teeth was too much for some teachers. Instead, Gar decided to draw the bullies’ attention to him, making himself the butt of jokes on purpose. Jillian didn’t like when he did this, but Gar saw it as his way of paying for her friendship, something he felt he didn’t deserve. Jillian tried to convince him otherwise, but years of abuse had nailed the concept into his head. Even so, the two only grew closer over time, ultimately becoming best friends. This could not last forever, however.

When Gar was ten years old, Galtry decided he wanted him out of the way to keep him from ever inheriting his father’s money. Gar caught wind of this and became hyper vigilant, making the process difficult for Galtry. Deciding he would need to lure Gar into the danger, Galtry used young Jillian as bait. Gar would do anything for Jillian, putting his life at risk to rescue her. He fought Galtry’s assailants with all he had, the need to save Jillian and pure rage propelling him forward. While Gar was victorious and Jillian was unharmed, things did not end happily. Jillian’s father, out of fear for his daughter, forbade her from seeing him and transferred her to another school. Heart broken and with his life in danger, Gar sought out the Doom Patrol and left his old life behind. Going from the Doom Patrol to a wildlife program star to the Teen Titans, Gar believed too much time had passed and too many changes had been made. He would never see Jillian again. He was right. …However… Gar had grown used to fans and critics alike pretending they knew him. As such, he wasn’t surprised when a young man leapt into a hug with him after saving him from a villain. He would normally have to suppress some discomfort with the suddenness of being touched like that without permission, but something felt familiar… pleasant. “You did it again, Gar!” He’d assumed this was a reference to the fact he was constantly saving people as a superhero, but he was always referred to as Beast Boy in these situations. Why was he calling him Gar and why did he seem so familiar? Fluffy blond hair, pale blue eyes, cute button nose… “Jillian?” “It’s Jack now.” It didn’t take long for the pair to chat like they’d never been apart, rapidly filling the other in about their lives. Jack had come out as a trans male a few years ago and while it was a difficult process, he was doing the best he’d ever been. He had confidence in himself, his father was finally seeing that he needed to spread his wings, and he had graduated high school early. Deciding to take advantage of his newfound freedom, Jack asked his father if he could live on campus of the college he chose. Reluctantly, he allowed it and Jack picked a college in California to seek out his old best friend. Having gained emotional intelligence and experience during his journey, Jack did his best to pass this on to Gar, being a steady hand on his shoulder when he needed it.

#Gar Logan #Garfield Logan #Beast Boy #Doom Patrol #Teen Titans #Jillian Jackson #Jack Jackson #my canon

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