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peachy-yan · 2 years

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Crunch

⚠️Warnings: Insects (bees)

Synopsis: You and John are enjoying the summer weather with some summer treats. Short crack fic.

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Flowers lay spread across your yard, beautiful in their chaos. Last fall, you had casually mentioned to John that you wished you had more native wild flowers in your yard, and before you knew it, dozens of piles of dead flowers were strewn everywhere. Luckily, though probably not purposefully, the seeds from the dead flowers had taken and now several dozen types of (living) native plants bloomed wonderfully in your small backyard.

The weather was warm, but not hot, with a pleasant late summer breeze drifting lazily through the air, and you were taking advantage of a rare day off from the gas station by sprawling lazily in a cheap lawn chair. John was sitting on the ground staring at you as usual. He used to stand and stare, but you’d told him that unnerved you, so now he sat down and stared which somehow made you feel less uncomfortable.

You took a sip of your lemonade and crunched on a few stray ice cubes. But when you finished chewing your ice, the crunching noise continued.

CRUNCH crunch crunch…CRUNCH crunch crunch

You looked over at John, who was usually the source of any weird noises around you.

“What the fuck are you eating??”

“…”

He blinked at you, deliberate and out of sync.

“Bees!”

“What.”

“I’m eating bees! They’re very tasty, do you want one?”

“NO I DONT WANT ONE!! WHY are you eating bees?!”

“…they taste good. You should try one! I love love love them. But not as much as I love love love you! Or teeth!” He added the last part as an after thought before snatching another bee out of the air and popping it into his mouth with a loud CRUNCH.

“…”

“I’ll stick with my lemonade, thank you.”

#john doe #john doe game #short crack fic #crack fic #john doe x reader #john doe x you #short and crunchy #bee tw #almost forgot to put a tw 😓#if i need to tag this more let me know #i was thinking about how i want to start keeping wasps as pets #like keeping bees but worse #and then i was thinking i should write a fic with that #but then i was thinking maybe i should do like. a beekeeper and john #but then i was like ‘john would just eat the bees tho’#and here we are #for some reason i feel like john wouldnt eat wasps. especailly if you told him not to #peaches rambles in the tags

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jestersking · 7 days

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it hurts. it always did. not his nails dig into not his skin and not his bones, if only they were a part of his existence.

the meat burns, aches, itches to the point where blood that shouldn't be there appears. he ignores it, always. the body, while not his, is why he lives, why he’s allowed to breathe and why he still thinks. the pain, despite being overwhelming, overarching, overbearing, is his.

it’s the only part he owns. it’s the only part he’s allowed to be proud of. he isn’t, but he keeps chanting in the voice that doesn't belong to him, that being alive means being in despair. he’ll wear that despair on his neck like wonderful pieces of jewelry he stole.

they’re long gone and dead and ghosts don’t exist (except for him. he could probably count as one, not-his body intertwined with those who were tortured) and yet he almost feels them wiggling, like worms. We’re rotten, they say. Our meat is nothing but a feed for maggots and bugs and flies, they say. Replace us, they beg.

and he does, like always, stuffing the insides of what barely can count as his shell. no matter how much he feasts, they will always plead to let them go. he wishes he could, he really does. at least they taste good. or so the parts that can taste say. this mouth is not his. these mouths are not his.

he remembers the question. if every part of you is replaced, is it even you? was it ever him? he wishes someone would hold the answer to him. the faint chime of weird, sponge-y, cold substance almost feels like they have one. he doesn’t ask, because it would be stupid, and places it inside their mouth with eyes glued to him. “Gross,” he knows they think. and he shrugs, as if it ever mattered.

it at least makes their voices calm down, leaving only real parts of him to exist. it’s a weird feeling to know that the real him is nothing but a sensation that they experience compressed in one coat. he wonders if the eyes before him know what they are. he’s not sure why he keeps thinking about them. why they, as a collective, find eyes amusing.

But oh well. The water around them is warm, the air is rotten, the clothes pressed against them feel like torture. And it hurts. Again.

#jesterwrites #shout out to c!grave gotta be one of my favorite genders #there should be a tw put here but for the love of me i cant put my finger on what exactly #errmmm anyway awkward imagine writing stuff about your ocs haha couldnt be me

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crabussy · 1 year

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I want to take a bite out of someone's arm but I'm too shy

#it's ok to reblog this post and ignore the rant in the tags I don't mind at all /gen #hi guys #got another load of trauma from school #and I am not dealing with it well at all my legs have been shaking so badly for 4 hours now #had a panic attack so bad that my face went numb and the edges of my vision went black and my legs gave way #I hate my teacher she's horrible god I can't even go into it here there's so much #I'm tired of getting abused at school I've been to half a dozen schools and have not gotten traumatised at ONLY ONE OF THEM #I have no adults I can go to about this #whenever I try to talk with her and the head teacher about the situation and why I'm fucking terrified of her she acts so patient and kind #whenever I'm alone with her she will yell at me about everything I'm doing wrong and continue yelling even when I'm in tears #she will berate me and put me down and insult me directly #when she gives feedback she always puts effort into making it hurt #the language she uses for negative feedback is never what a teacher should say it's always personal and uses your weaknesses to hurt you #I get really bad intrusive thoughts about her hurting me physically because of how terrified I am of her #the worst part is she acts nice and sweet whenever she's not picking apart my weaknesses and being cruel about my disabilities #I felt so sick after that I haven't eaten since #vent tw #trauma tw #listen to my gibberish boy #ggod I hate this school

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jichanxo · 2 months

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(late) sunday six

thanks for the tag @passthroughtime and @overdevelopedglasses! not gonna tag anybody because i'm late to the party as is :P i've mentioned sensei au/fic a lot in passing but i think this is the first time i'm actually talking about it properly in a text post as opposed to like, tags on my art... anyway, it goes without saying that this has lost judgment spoilers. part of the premise for this fic is that kitakata never becomes kuwana because he only barely manages to fix everything at the last possible moment. mitsuru lives, but only because he gets lucky. something like that. the main fic takes place long after this, but i recently had a go at trying to write mitsuru and kitakata on the roof together, since it's obviously integral to kitakata's character even if mitsuru doesn't die. i'm still feeling it out, but it's been an interesting one. very different from what i'm used to. but also cathartic in some ways.

anyway here's an excerpt. putting another warning here for lost judgment spoilers and mentions of suicide.

Kusumoto looked away, sat up. He didn’t really seem to care that Kitakata was there, aside from the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything rash with him here, which he resented.

He wiped at his chin, his eyes, but the movements were clumsy, and he couldn’t clean himself off properly. His hair was still a mess, though he’d tried to make it presentable again. Kitakata suddenly wished he had a handkerchief in his pocket instead of a packet of cigarettes.

“I’m not going to kill myself, Sensei. You can leave if you want.”

He wanted to relieve Kitakata of any responsibility to be here. He thought Kitakata was only doing any of this to cover his own ass.

Kitakata hadn’t given him any reason to believe otherwise.

“Oh, well.” He fished for the first excuse that came to mind. “Haven’t had my smoke yet.”

He pulled one out, took his time lighting it. It’d buy him some time. It didn’t matter what Kusumoto thought of him, and he wouldn’t delude himself to expect that he might think that Kitakata was here because he wanted to be. It wasn’t entirely untrue, after all, that he was just trying to cover his ass. He’d made a mistake, and he was desperate to fix it.

He took a drag. Exhaled. Looked to Kusumoto.

“Do you mean it?” He asked.

“Mean what?” Kusumoto mumbled.

“When you said you weren’t going to kill yourself.”

#lost judgment spoilers #tw suicide #...not sure what other content warnings i should put here i'm not familiar with posting this kind of thing #hopefully tumblr doesn't eat it alive for that alone #kitakata sensei #jichanmakes #sunday six #<- not sure how often i'll participate but i have been writing quite a bit lately so i might as well make the tag #anyway um. sensei fic! sensei fic!#unfortunately it's probably one of the most depressing parts of the au. important! but depressing.#snipped off one of the less visceral parts at the very least. writing mitsuru and kitakata speaking in this context feels very..... hm #like i said it's a very different subject to write about than what i'm used to #i still want to read over some other peoples' depictions of mitsuru but this is basically my like. first go unfiltered attempt.#at the very least i have a feeling for the tone now

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r0bee · 1 year

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So we remember when the beginning of season 4 implied Kai was an alcoholic right

#Made this ages ago but I forgot I hadn't posted it on here 😭 only posted it on Instagram #Anyways #ninjago #kai ninjago #I think I should probably put #tw alchohol mention #kai jiang #kai smith

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fullmoans · 1 year

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Home is a Fire | Part 3

They left Stiles out because they knew the nogitsune would tear him apart, but now the nogitsune is gone and Stiles can feel the nemeton telling him it isn’t over — not for him. And maybe not for Derek either.

It was just after noon when Stiles pulled up to a small gas station a few blocks from the address his dad texted him for Derek’s house. He needed gas, a sandwich, and a plan. Would Peter have any idea how to contact Cora? It’s not like they were close. Had Derek ever gotten back into a semi-consistent contact with her? After a few minutes, his tank was full and he’d grabbed a cold sandwich from the store.

The new Hale house was very similar to his fathers’. A simple, two story home likely built in the early 90’s. He noticed multiple locks on the door when he knocked.

“No one’s home,” he heard Peter call, though the locks clicked open one-by-one just a moment later. “Ah, my favorite.” Stiles stared at him. In the back of his mind, he wondered what had changed him so deeply that he didn’t have a sarcastic remark even for Peter Hale.

“We have to find Cora.” Stiles walked past Peter until he found a small living room and sat down. “When’s the last time you heard from her?” Looking around the room, he noticed Eli was sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone. His attention was pulled up, curious about the new guest in their home.

“I know that Derek had gotten back into contact with her but I’m not the biggest family man these days. He did say she had given him a phone, in case of emergencies only, but I don’t know where he would’ve kept it.”

“What do you want to know about Cora?” Eli’s full attention had shifted to Stiles and Peter now.

“I need to talk to her. It’s important,” Stiles said. He didn’t want to give up too much information to Eli. Getting his own hopes up was one thing but he wouldn’t let Eli think there was a chance until he was sure. Eli seemed to be thinking, deciding whether to trust Stiles with some information he knew, and Stiles took the time to really look at him. He saw so much of himself in Derek’s son. There was an expression on his face that he couldn’t hide – one that Stiles knew well. That was the face of someone who liked getting himself into trouble. “You’re the kid with my Jeep right?” Eli met his eyes then.

“I’m just taking care of it. I get it if you want it back.”

“That Jeep is the last thing my mother left me. She meant everything to me. I know a little about what you’re going through and when I was lost most, when I couldn’t find a reason to keep going, fixing her was something I could focus on. In a way, she gave me a purpose every time that I wasn’t sure if I could live without my mom. As long as you keep her running, she can be your purpose too.” After he spoke, Stiles broke Eli’s eye contact. He could feel tears in his eyes and see them reflected in the kid’s. It was silent for a moment.

Eli spoke more enthusiastically this time. “Dad and I had a plan if anything ever happened to us. We were supposed to meet up in the garage and then we’d leave town and go to Cora’s. He kept a duffle bag there – he called it our ‘go bag.’” He got up and took a few steps towards Stiles. “I can show you where it is. I should’ve called her anyway.”

Stiles considered Eli’s offer. He didn’t want to get the kid involved in whatever he was doing but it didn’t seem like there was another option. Peter wasn’t fighting to take him there instead. Peter, well Peter seemed to have completely disappeared from the room. Stiles spun around but there was no sign of him. He sighed. “Okay, my car’s out front.”

“Are you kidding? We’re taking the Jeep.”

It was so unusual for Stiles to sit in the passenger side of the Jeep. He had forgotten how rough it was on even the smoothest of roads and being in the passenger seat, not being able to feel the engine from the pedal, emphasized every bump. Still, he enjoyed the breeze on their short ride over to the garage. When they parked, he studied the kid again. ‘He’s so much like me,’ he thought. ‘I bet he gave Derek Hell.’

“What?” Eli asked, when Stiles didn’t make any move to get out of the car.

“What happened to your mother? You don’t have to answer –”

“She was killed.” Stiles nodded, not wanting to push him, but he kept going. “I was a baby so I don’t remember any of it. Apparently, Dad had gone to live with Cora and her pack. He met my mom in Cora’s pack – said she reminded him of an old friend. I got a lot of her features, that’s why I only really have Dad’s hair. One morning, him and Cora had taken me so that my mom could catch up on some sleep. A few rogue hunters attacked. When Dad and Cora got back, the pack had killed the hunters, but not before one of them killed her. That’s the way he told the story to me, at least. I never really knew her.”

All Stiles could think was how hard that must’ve been on Derek. All of his life, he had been through so many shitty things. If there was a god, they really had it out for Derek Hale. “He was lucky to have you,” Stiles said.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I pushed him too far, I think.”

“When my mom died, I pushed my dad. I snuck out every night. Once, I overheard him talking about a body in the woods and I made Scott come out, in the middle of the night, and try to find it with me. That’s how Scott got turned. Anyway, I gave him so much shit. Still, he always said I reminded him of my mom. He said it hurt less to lose her because he got to have me. I know Derek would’ve thought the same.”

It was silent again, until Stiles opened his door. He heard Eli’s door open too and followed him into the garage. “He talked about you,” Eli said.

“I talked about him, too. I should’ve talked to him, instead.”

Eli left Stiles standing in the middle of the garage. He’d gone into an office where he said Derek hid important things. He came back with a duffle bag that was almost half his size. “This is the bag. I’ve never looked inside of it – always thought it was probably boring stuff like my birth certificate.”

Stiles laughed. It was a small, short laugh, but still something he didn’t do a lot these days. With a smile still on his face, he kneeled down as Eli dropped the bag. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Eli was smiling too.

The bag did have a lot of boring stuff. Eli was right about the birth certificate – it was in a big file folder which had the deed to the land of the Hale House, a few old car titles, and more papers. There were also a few pairs of pants and approximately 20 black shirts. There was a smaller black bag at the bottom which Stiles pulled out and unzipped. Inside were 3 burner phones, all turned off. He switched each of them on and looked through the contacts. One had names he knew – Malia, Peter, his Dad, and Scott. One had Deaton and a bunch of names he didn’t know. Family friends, maybe. Maybe other packs Derek had come across. The last one that he turned on had only a single number in it. There wasn’t a name on this contact but he knew it had to be Cora. He pocketed this one, turned the rest back off, zipped the bag, and put Derek’s ‘go bag’ back together. “Got it,” he said.

Eli took the bag back to where he’d gotten it from before returning. On the way out, Stiles noticed that Eli was putting a code into the office door. He hadn’t been paying enough attention before. “You keep it locked?”

“Yeah, no particular reason. Dad’s big on security. The code’s 7687-9653 if you need to get back in. The numbers spell ‘sour wolf.’ Some kind of joke he always set his passwords to.” Eli passed Stiles on the way to the Jeep because Stiles had stopped walking. He’d made the wrong choice when he left. Lydia had been everything he told himself he wanted ever since he could remember and she’d become smarter, stronger, and even more beautiful with every passing day back then. And yet, it was so obvious now that he’d made the wrong choice. “You coming?”

“I need to take a walk.” Stiles said, making his voice loud enough for the feet between them now. “Thanks for your help, Eli. Cora should hear what happened from me so I’ll call her. I’ll drop the phone off to you later in case you want to talk to her, too.”

He could feel Eli’s eyes on him as he walked away. Still, he needed to be alone and he didn’t want Eli to hear what he had to say to Cora.

Cora picked up before the first ring finished.

“Derek? What happened?” She said, immediately.

“Hey Cora, it’s Stiles,” He said so softly he worried she didn’t hear him. She didn’t respond. “I’m sorry, Cora.”

“What happened to him?” She whispered back

“He sacrificed himself to save everyone else. He did save everyone else.”

“Of course he did.”

“Cora, I know this isn’t the right time to be asking you for a favor, but I was hoping you might be able to help me. Deaton said Talia kept information on your family, Beacon Hills, and the nemeton. If any of it survived the fire, I need to know where it is now.”

“You don’t think he’s dead, do you?”

“I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up,” Stiles said, avoiding answering the question. The answer was simple though – no, he didn’t think Derek was dead. Not for good, anyway.

“We re-built the library. Before Derek came to live with me, we re-built it underneath our house. The door is under the wolfsbane. Everything that was left and everything that we’ve found since – it’s all there… Don’t tell Eli about this. It wouldn’t be fair to him,” She finished. Of course they’d built a secret bunker underneath the Hale house. Of course they would.

“I told him I’d give him this phone after we spoke. No matter what I find, he’s going to need you. Scott is a good leader when he needs to be, but he doesn’t believe in the pack like Derek did.”

“Give me a week,” Cora said and hung up.

Stiles looked up at the afternoon sky. It was going to start getting dark soon. If he headed towards the Hale House now, he could reach it before the sun went down, but he’d have to go home in the dark. He pocketed the phone and started walking. Walking through the woods, the sky darkening, headed to find a secret buried under wolfsbane on Hale land, he felt like he was 16 again.

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