#churned this out in a bout of depression something SNAPPED

[mayamelodyegg]

stress painting

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Safe And Sound? More Like Safe And Bred.

Masterlist

Warnings: Adult situations 18+ Smut, Attempted Rape, Breeding kink, swearing, A/B/O and all the posessive bs that goes with it 👍

A/n This was intended to be darker but sort of changed as I was writing? Yeah I'm very happy with it tho considering its my first A/B/O. As always enjoy😘

Clark has been driven wild by an omega's scent.

Safe And Sound? More Like Safe And Bred

There it was again. That fucking scent. Clark groaned and took a deep breath in unconsciously ,smelling it, tasting the air on his tongue, wanting to lap up the delicious scent. It tasted like maple syrup yet smelt completely different fresh and succulent like cool spring air. Young and new. Ripe. He shuddered at the thought. It was driving him wild like no other, normally he could block them out but not this one No,six weeks .Six. Fucking. Weeks he had been teased by it coming into the daily planet.

There was an omega here somewhere, he almost felt jealous of the others weaker senses, they had caught faint whiffs of it asking Perry about it who told them none to polity to 'back off' and that it shouldn't cause a problem due to where they was stationed no one should be able to smell them up here. But Clark did. He had to endure it constantly day in day out. The scent was always worse in the lobby where everyone entered the building. Each morning he came in scanning the people around him looking for a new face, more desperate each day to find the omega.

After enduring the scent for so long he was determined to find the culprit. To find his omega. He swore at that ,they wasn't his, he couldn't allow it.. . He couldn't claim them. Afraid of hurting them, it was true that alphas couldn't bare the thought of hurting an omega, actually against the law to cause any harm emotional or otherwise to an omega. It'd be to easy for him to accidentally harm them, one slip of concentration and that could be it.

So he had resigned himself to never claim one, tho he couldn't help his instincts that screamed for him to find them. To mount and breed them. so he still found himself searching the lobby everyday as he came and went. Sighing as he walked to the elevator not finding them once again disappointment ran through him he shook his head taking one last gulp of air trying to capture the scent he stepped in the elevator.

Just as he went to close the doors he smelt them. He saw her. Other alphas were sniffing around her as she walked past them through the lobby head down watching her feet as she scurried quickly across the space heading for a door that he knew lead to the mail room below she faltered quickly bringing her head up scanning the crowd before catching him looking at her. She gulped as she locked eyes on him then all but flung herself past the door out of sight. The doors closed but he stood frozen. She had seen him.

His chest swelled. His omega had looked at him. She wanted him, her alpha. For a second he stood shocked then quickly threw himself at the buttons smashing the open door button willing it to open and let him go and find her, alas it was to late he was already scaling the building to his floor. He took a breath closing his eyes picturing her She was gorgeous, around average height dark auburn nearly brown hair piled atop her hair in a messy bun she was slim. But not to slim and had and hourglass shape wide hips. Meant for breeding. Fuck. And her eyes a dark hazel freckles dusting her face. He clenched his hand around the briefcase he held, as images of mating her, knotting her took hold he grunted hearing a crunch as the hard plastic handle gave under the pressure.

He swore. No he couldn't risk it risk her. The doors opened revealing the office he panted a few breaths trying to compose himself he walked through the office to his desk dropping into his seat running his palms across his face smoothing his hair back before dropping them by his sides.

Lois approached him warily seeing him tensed and almost flighty. If she didn't know any better she'd have said he was entering a rut, but she wasn't going to suggest that to him. Hell no. Alphas became aggressive if another alpha brought it up. And she definitely didn't want to deal with a triggered alpha in the office. Especially him of all people. However he had let slip a week or so ago that the omega in the building had riled him, that he couldn't block it out like the others.

Fuck. His blood was burning in his veins, his reaction was unlike any other. It was instant and he knew somewhere deep down that he would not be concentrating today.

"Hey Clark you ok there?" he grunted then forced a smile kicking his briefcase under the desk. Out of sight out of mind. was the term that came to mind.

"Yes I'm fine" she didn't look convinced.

"Riiiight and who are you trying to convince me or you? if that omega downstairs is causing you problems you should talk to someone, she shouldn't even be here working if shes unmated" Clark growled at her. Of course Lois was right in a sense. It wasn't law that omegas couldn't work however as a general rule they didn't or if they did it was a part time job close to home and normally along side their alphas. Most were claimed by the time they left college alphas would claim an omega in the first or second heat that happened around 17-20 years old, it was very rare to have an unmated omega in the work force but companies couldn't discriminate. Lois took a step back at the warning, Clark squared his shoulders the thought of his omega leaving agitated him.

"And what would I say? I can scent her from nearly 11 stories up? how would I explain that exactly?" he growled the words through grit teeth not liking where this was going. It took a great amount of control not to flash his eyes at the alpha female in front of him. She backed up unconsciously but continued.

"Well its obviously effecting you, look at yourself ,you've been getting worked up since she got here. If shes your one claim her and get it over with. but don't sit there stewing over it. Do something about it or I will" she snapped back. He could hear what she was really getting at, she was hurt occasionally two alphas could find a way to be together but this didn't happen in there case and she was jealous of the omega and wanted her gone and would make it happen herself if need be. Clark was on his feet in front of her before she could register it bending down getting in her face. And snarled low and dangerous, what ever courage Lois had fled as he glared at her menacingly.

"Don't .You. Ever. Threaten. Her. Again." she shook at the dark look in his eyes stepping back a few steps. frightened. 'as she should be' Clark thought his instincts in over drive feeling as if he had done his omega proud ,scaring off what he precieved as a threat.

"What the hell is going on?" Perry called as he watched a pale Lois take her seat not looking at anyone

"Nothing its dealt with Perry." she said bitterly tho Clark couldn't tell if it was because she had backed off her instincts acknowledging him as a true alpha or if it was that he had defended another woman.

"It better be" he warned eyeing them both before heading to his office Clark sat back down before starting up his computer to begin his work. he stopped after about ten minutes as there was a spike in his omega's scent.. she was going into heat he got up fast, to fast he hoped no one had seen him he looked at the elevator swallowing dryly. Lois raised her head instantly worried forgetting her frustration for a moment more concerned about him.

"C-Clark?" he looked at her and she froze as his pupils grew until there was a slim ring of blue around them. She took a deep breath picking up on the signs. Quickly she got up and went to him. whispering

"Whats going on are you- is she ok?" he tore his eyes from her to the elevator.

"Shes-heat" he swallowed taking a deep breath trying again

"Shes going into heat downstairs, fuck" Lois looked confused

"What but surely she'd know and not come in? it must have caught her off guard-wait what did you do?"

"We- I saw her, she saw me... that couldn't have triggered it could it?" he asked uncertain scanning the other alphas in the room they hadn't noticed, not that he thought they could detect her from here. Lois gaped at him sometimes she forgot that they didn't necessarily teach everything about omegas in all schools, especially to alphas, in traditional communities alphas were just taught about their own anatomy next to nothing about omegas ,hell in some areas where most were betas nothing was taught at all forcing everything to happen naturally on instinct.

"Of course it can! if she isn't on suppressants hell some can't even take them! meeting her alpha could cause an instant heat ,fuck sake, you need to go get her, if she leaves now she could be hurt or worse go I will cover you just go now!" Lois growled at him, the thought of an omega in heat trying to navigate the city alone made her insides churn. He leaned over to retrieve his case but she spun him pushing him to the elevators.

"Leave that I will sort it just go!"

Mean while you was down stairs panicking. You'd found him. Your one true alpha. After years of denying all others waiting out your heats holed up in your apartment praying that you'd find your true alpha and not be caught by another and lose the chance at having your soul mate. You had tried suppressants over the years but they hadn't worked, sometimes when an omegas true alpha was to potent the suppressants didn't work they only muted the the symptoms slightly and ended up not being worth the side effects , nausea ,headaches ,bouts of depression and anxiety then the back pain that was caused by your body trying to counteract the cramps redirecting the spasms.

This was the case for you it wasn't worth it basically exchanging excruciating the internal cramps for crippling back pain, it was dangerous, with cramps you could push through it still move and run if you needed to ,but the back pain made you immobile. You took deep breaths once you reached your office. Sitting down unsteady on your feet.

He was magnificent tall broad dark hair and bright eyes tho at the distance you couldn't define the color, you tried to imagine his face with forest green or a deep azure irises. You gasped feeling yourself heating up. You'd been picking up on his scent since you arrived. It was different. Very strange normally scents had one or two underlying tones his was a mix of many all intertwining in to one deep clean airy scent. You panted cringing as you began to sweat lightly.

Fuck. This wasn't good. You couldn't drop now. Not when you'd seen him. That was probably the cause. You whined taking off you jumper revealing the short sleeved blouse underneath letting the air around you picking up the folder on your desk fanning yourself debating what you should do, you could try to slip out and get home there wasn't to many alpha's here you had done your research before applying there was forty most were on the top floors, but that was still forty alphas that would smell you as you tried to leave and then you'd have to navigate through the city home avoiding all others. you sighed knowing you had to make the decision fast. swearing loudly you picked up the phone calling your manager.

"Hi its y/n in the mailing department.. I'm sorry I have to leave now preferably....I've- my heat has come early and I cant stay-I'm sorry I don't know what to do" you lean over the desk crying softly thinking that you'd just lost the only job anyone had offered you. This was cut short as she replied understanding you, being an alpha with an omega daughter she knew what it was like you huffed in relief as she calmed you down reassuring you that it was fine she instructed you to stay where you was until she called you an uber to be safe and take all the time you needed, you nodded thanking her before hanging up.

Quickly you gathered your things and waited, she phoned back quickly informing you that the uber was outside waiting you just had to tell him the destination and the company was paying for it as this classed as 'emergency travel'. You thanked her again and headed out of the office scaling the stairs to the lobby scuttling out as fast as you could aiming to head home as quick as you could before you got any worse. You felt the stares you noted the few alphas scattered about taking deep drags of air into themselves, drinking in your scent before slowly heading in your direction. You whimpered as you raced through he main doors nearly staggering as you made your way down the road as you flushed hot and needy. Jumping into the uber telling the driver your address as he pulled out into the street. He looked at you threw the rare view mirror.

"You ok back there? you want me to call someone?... your alpha?" he asked innocently enough. You just leaned forward cupping your tummy as the first pulses began in your abdomen muscles twitching beginning the first twinges of pain, you cried out panicked, it was never this fast, a normal heat took at least 24hours to sink in and reach this point.

"No! no no I'm fine just drive!!" he grinned at your response but not that you saw from your almost fetal position in the back, he continued as he pulled off the main road cutting down a residential street as a short cut

"Ok are you sure? is your alpha aware of this? does he hurt you is that why you don't want to call him?" he pried by this point alarm bells would usually start but in your desperate state you didn't click you just shook your head

"no-don't have one just please hurry!!" he grinned doing a u turn at the T junction going left back towards the city. You groaned with your head between your knees crying as the pain came crashing over like waves. Flooding your system then draining away before returning ,gasping deep gulps of air so wrapped up in trying to halt your heat you didn't realize the type of danger you were in.

"H-how much longer?" you didn't register the car stopping he chuckled.

"Not long darling" your eyes snapped open freezing at the tone managing to prop yourself up wincing through the pain as you noticed you'd stopped moving. Dread filled when you saw you were still down town. Even with the traffic you should have been out in the residential area. Your apartment was only a 25 minute walk so should have been about a five to ten minute drive instead you was in the city center all be it parked In some sort of loading bay tucked behind some tall office buildings you didn't recognize. You gulped at the look on his face. Slowly reaching for the handle of the door only for it to be locked. You shivered.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he unclipped his seat belt

"I'm gonna take care of you, a pretty omega like you shouldn't be going through heats alone... You should have an alpha to help you... You will~ just relax this will be over soon" he said before squeezing himself between the front seats making to grab you.

You twisted screaming as loud as you could. Lifting your bag striking him as hard as you could, which wasn't that hard as your energy had been sapped away by your rapid heat. he held you firm digging his fingers into your wrist untill the bag dropped to the footwell, pushing your shoulders against the door you screamed again agonizing

"NOOO HELP SOMEONE HELP ME!" clawing at him scratching his face he swore as your nail scratched across his eye.

"YOU LITTLE BITCH!" he screamed you cowered at his anger he pulled back his hand slapping you hard across the face you grunted as your head smacked into the metal seat belt clip half way up the back seat.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP CUNT!" you kneed, twisted ,clawed and bit anything you could think of to get him off of you ,he overpowered you grabbing your head smashing it against the inner door panel, your vision went fuzzy at how hard your head had bounced off of it. weeping weakly kicking out despite all hope of escape was fading fast as the male tore open your blouse buttons scattering across the back seat and foot well.

"NOO NONO PLEASE!"you sobbed as you resigned yourself to being another statistic. Then the door behind your head was ripped clean off you car you yelped cringing as you heard the metal twist and tear just beside your head tumbling out of the car, being caught before touching the asphalt and sat on the roof of the car so quick it made you dizzy before you could even glance at who had saved you. You heard the screams of your would be rapist shouting panicked as he was dragged violently out of the car.

Crying you moved to cover yourself tugging the shirt around yourself looking forward you saw superman clutching the alphas neck hoisting up to his eye level eyes flashing a dangerous red, hinting to the power simmering just below the surface shoulders heaving with every breath and his jaw clenched boiling anger was written across his stance. The alpha pleaded with him. The kryptonian glanced at you before snarling in the other alphas face low and terrifying. you held your breath something was wrong.

"MINE!" was all the man of steel managed as he panted heavy , you saw the tremble in his arm as he tried holding back but still squeezed tighter on the throat he held causing the alpha to gasp and wheeze begging pleading much like you had been not two minutes ago. You gasped not entirely sure you heard him correctly but you was sure that you didn't want to be around either of them in this state.

You placed your hands on the metal below you sliding backwards making the decision to leave your bag that stuff could be replaced. Keeping both of them in your sight, gasping quietly as you dropped to your feet , buckling as another cramp clutched a your insides. You had to move get away you couldn't let either male near you, not when you'd just found your mate, when you was so close.

In your state of panic you forgot one of the most important things every omega should know. If your caught by an alpha in the middle of a heat Do. Not. Run an alpha that wants to pursue you, will chase, they relished in it the hunt. That's why there is so much emphasis on mateing young, once you are claimed alphas are less drawn to you and your heat cant do this whole surprise pop up act. Those who tried to hold out for their mates are usually picked off before their thirties, claimed forcefully and trapped in a unhappy pairings you never thought it'd be you.

You moved slow at first backing away from the car then as you made your way further from them once you got a good twenty feet you turned and ran down a small one way road leading in the direction of home. You hoped. Your footsteps caught Superman's attention snapping his head up dropping the male

"NOO! COME BACK!" he shouted making you more frightened speeding up, he sounded angry. He shot up instantly hovered above the small building before spying you diving down landing in front of you as you as you had reached a main street onlookers stopped as they saw him land hard on the ground, he crouched the asphalt below him cracking under the force he'd used. You skidded to a stop nearly running into him you screamed backing up as he moved to grab you his eyes. They were burning literally glowing seconds away from igniting your flesh.

"I-I No please I don't-" you tried speaking cutting yourself off as another cramp took hold you cried out curling grasping your stomach. He took the opportunity to quickly scoop you up taking off so fast the air was sucked from your lungs you couldnt breath instead puffing out desperate tiny breaths. He headed straight for home. You groaned weakly at him trying desperatly to breath, tapping him as you managed sharp breaths when you could smelling him, he smelt familiar and unique almost like your mate but not quite the same.

Before you knew it you was in an unfamilliar apartment gasping deep breaths trying to ease your burning lungs. Whimpering as a wave after wave of your mates scent hit you causing your body the begin preparing itself for him as you soaked your panties through at an alarming rate. You was deposited on a large bed confused uncomfortably wet and in pain as you curled on your side in the covers pressing your face into the cotton taking deep breaths. You heard footsteps leave your side moving around beyond the door.

He was building you a nest in his den, he was here helping you, you crawled towards him as he smoothed out the blanket to curl around you grabbing him trying to pull him up onto the bed with you. You whimpered as he pulled back standing to look at the nest wanting it to be perfect. In your heat addled mind you took it as a rejection when he moved out of your grasp.

"A-Alpha?" you called out looking for him, he was here he had to be here you needed him, this was his den, but where was he. You looked around trying to find him. Then you hear Superman return, well you thought it was Superman maybe you was so far gone you'd been hallucinating, you was sure the man of steel had brought you here, but it wasn't him who returned you looked at the door ecstatic as you spied your mate with arms full of pillows and a few blankets mumbling to himself about a nest, felt a burst of excitement as he placed the cushions and blankets around you.

"I-its ok, I'm here, I've found you omega, mine ,my omega" you looked up at the male before you tucking your nose into the crook of his neck breathing deep wanting to take him in as much as you could it was him. Yes. You've made it. you cried happy tears streaming down your face as you finally had him, Your one. Your soul mate. Years spent searching hoping, terrified that he'd given up hope and claimed another. But the years of loneliness and fear was worth it for this one moment.

"N-no! alpha come back" your voice was small but sincere, he quickly saw his mistake and climbed up with you letting you grab and pull at him.

"Wh-how? you was-" he climbed over you cageing you nuzzling your neck doing the same to you that you had done to him only he was not crying, he was growling deep in his chest, that you had only just noticed was uncovered he was bare as the day he was born.

"Later...Cant" he mumbled kissing at your neck quickly licking and nipping succumbing to his need to bury himself inside of you as soon as possible. You whined as he pulled the blankets around you creating a tighter cocoon. His instincts were all over the place wanting to mount and knot you and calm and cuddle you . It was hard for him to concentrate as he smelt your body prepare for him. Turning you looked at him your lips parted as you huffed becoming impossibly hot ,sweat forming on your brow your clothes constricting and sticky as you lifted a shaky hand to his cheek.

"Blue... I didn't see them earlier, there beautiful." he almost purred closing his eyes as you ran your hand up to his curled hair. His nostrils flaring ducking down to you kissing you groaning at the taste of your tongue he moved over you, desperate pressing you into the matress holding your waist sliding you up the bed wrestling with your clothes growling before opting to rip them of not patient enough to remove them with out damaging them. You whined at him making him stop inspecting you for injury , when he determined you was unharmed just vocal he continued moving down your body kissing and suckling marks onto you wanting to devour your slick as he smelt how wet you had become for him.

He tossed your legs over his shoulders breathing deep closing his eyes collecting him self 'slow and steady don't hurt her' he thought to himself then leaned forward sucking obscenely on your wet folds dipping his tongue between them. you screamed as he met your hot sensitive skin groaning into you gripping your hips forcing you to remain still and endure him as he worked on finding you bud then flicking quickly up and down then rolling it around sucking it between his teeth applying a gentle pressure.

You cried and shouted as he continued he looked up at you watching you try to twist and turn your breasts bouncing with every jerky movement and heaving breath. He groaned again imagining just how perfect they would look tight and full ready to feed his pups. He pulled back with long licks from back to front collecting as much slick as he could as he went. You panted teary eyed as he crawled above you. He grunted eyeing your neck then maintained eye contact snarling when you didn't immediately look away.

Your pussy wept below you at the sight. He was posturing. Waiting for you to present to him, for you to acknowledge him as your alpha. You tilted your head looking away eagerly willing your body to relax below him he keened low running his nose across your throat then latching onto it biting locking his jaw tightly, not enough for the final bite but he held you there tonguing your neck releasing then moving down biting repeating the same process searching for the least sensitive spot to deliver his bite.

Once he found a spot that didn't cause a large reaction or was on the artery he sucked a dark mark , pinpointing it for later once he was satisfied he released your neck with a parting kiss many would look for the most sensitive but he was worried about truly harming you.

He grabbed your shoulder rolling you on your front heaving up your hips presenting you to him your shoulders landing on the extra pillows and blankets he got for you taking your weight. He gasped leaning back to take a moment to calm himself, he would not risk killing you accidentally because he rushed, admittedly he was also enjoying the view, way your scent permeated the air leaving him feeling hazy almost drunk. You mewled lost in your heat impatient for him to claim you in the most sinful and depraved of ways. You rocked to and fro clenching your pussy for him then spread your knees so he could see. You heard him grunt then decided to push further.

"AAHH! FUCK" you yelped as he stretched you taught around him the resistance you put up against him was intoxicating as he moved steady not letting up as he was pushing deeper and deeper feeding himself into you. You tried to raise onto your hands but a swift hand caught you by the scruff pressing down with a snarl.

As ready as your slick had made you, you was still smaller than him he noted as he was poised at your opening, twitching and puffy from his earlier exploration, he could feel the heat radiating form you. As you tried to rock back feeing his cock just there he pulled you back onto him.

"No you will stay In position presenting" he grunted you whimpered in response as he held you there firm. Finally he grunted low quickly thrusting the last inch or so into you thighs pressed against your bottom tensing. You panted clawing at the pillows surrounding you is was nearly to much as he held still flexing making you jump and flutter around him.

"P-pleeeas alpha I cant wait please" your words were pitiful and breathy arching your back pushing your ass high and curling your toes. His breathing hitched un able to hold back he rose to his knees digging his tumbs into the back of your pelvis gripping tight designed to hold you still, to force you to take all of him weather you wanted to or not. You'd forfited that choice with your presented to him earlier. You was his and he wanted you to know that ,slowly falling prey to his most basic of primal needs. Mount. Fuck. Knot. Breed. There was no thoughts beyond these four goals. He held steady nudging your opening with his cock, hard and only just beading with precum, he had fought to hold back his need for release refuseing to waste a drop, but now it seemed he may need it.

"Good girl....soo good ... your such a good omega.....are you ready to be bred?" tears fell at the feeling of being so stuffed, you wasn't sure just how you were going to take his knot if this was him before that, it was uncomfortable pressed so deep it was bordering pain, a dull ache but your cramps were gone as if his skin alone had soothed your insides and that you was thankful for.

"ugh such a good female.... gonna fuck you full" he tilted his head back abdomen quivering and twitching with need he was trying to hold back, be gentle he had heard the whimpers as he opened you up for the first time, noting that you wasn't a virgin, tho many omegas now day's had toy's to replicate alpha couplings. He snarled pulling back a little then rocking into you the idea of anything other than himself inside you irked him, no more. He would dispose of yours at the first opportunity. You'd never resort to using a toy again. A rubber substitute, no he wouldn't allow it. You would come to him for relief or you'd suffer. Those were your options now.

"YES... fuck yes THATS IT...I'm your alpha now...no one else.... I'll kill them" he grunted teasing you with his cock you screeched as he growled and grunted using his hands to hold you still as he drove into you over and over, pulling out further each time, you was floating or was it drowning you couldn't tell, all you knew was that you hated the way you felt empty as he left you, your pussy was clamping and pulling at him, fighting to keep him sheathed inside you. You groaned cried and squealed unable to stop as his moans egged you on.

"aH! FUCKfuckfuck alPHAAA!" you shook your head rubbing your face into his heady scent your head swimming in it as it seeped through the blankets. You tried to fight his hold as he teased you with shallow thrusts making your pussy protest resulting in a loud sharp spank and you widened your legs for him.

"You ok baby?" he asked as you shook beneath him gasping, trying to calm your breathing you tried to turn to look at him hissing as it pulled on his knot

You cried panicked trying to wiggle from under him desperate to escape the painful stretch he quickly acted on auto pilot latching onto the mark he left on your neck biting breaking the skin, holding you still with a growl as he claimed you with his scent permanently. You cried tensing not sure if the pain was to much or not enough. He finallly released your neck tucking a hand below where you joined rubbing your hard bud forcing you to clench painfully around the knot that was cruley holding you in place spreading your lips apart revealing your clit to his wandering fingers as you was warpped tight around him ,you tried to drag yourself forward off of him tugging at your joining to no avail he was slow and frim with his teasing finger tips.

Quickly you found your abdoman spasming and you screeched as he tore your second orgasm from you, this time as you squirted nothing left you hitting his knot and returning back up into you the force of it sending ripples of pleasure against all of your nerves your walls massaged him from root to tip as a result making him finally release into you feeling him pulse and twitch as his hot load hit you hard and deep some had definatly make it past your cervix you summarised the only coherent through in the lusty haze that was now slowly lifting from you, he held still as he continued to pour into you, the overwhelming urge to breed you was to much as he rocked once ,twice slowly using his knot the amplify the pleasure.

You whimpered staying as still as you could panting completly washed out and wrecked. He looked down smug not taking his eyes of of where you were joined his knot was large, he was impressed at how well you took him. A slight panic, he'll admit but you had stayed still enough for him to fully mate you And nothing was escaping which boded well for breeding.

"Ah ah ah stay still... that's it stay still... good girl" he reassured knowing full well that you could be like this for a few more minutes maybe ten minutes or so, for him specifically he wasnt sure. Selfishly he wanted to remain there as long as possible but thought it'd be better for you if he wasnt attached to long.

"yes ...that's it omega open up for me... let me in" he chuckled slamming into you making your bones rattle keening with the force as he did it over again becoming desperate to bury himself inside deeper. You cried out as he dragged his hand from your neck leaning over you as he plowed you into an orgasm. You let out what was at first a silent scream as you clamped around him making him hiss you leaked over him cumming drenching his thighs with slick as he grunted holding still tightly pressing into you his knot forming in an instant stretching you until you yelped in pain trying to break free. No. It hurt. As he was pressing painfully deep almost pressing into your cervix opening.

"Are you ok? we could be like this for a while baby.. you have enough pillows"

"It's sore" you mumbled quietly unable to stop pulling forward it was only natural to try and avoid the pain he felt guilty but knew it was unavoidable.

"I know baby but your doing so well... soo good and just think with any luck we will have pups on the way! doesnt that sound nice baby. You can make a better nest, more suitable for pups." you clenched at his words the idea of pups making you perk up

"Pups?" you asked excited he laughed rubbing your back soothingly noticing how hot you was.

"Oh yes I'm going to breed you during this heat, that is if I haven't took root already" he said rolling his hip lightly making his point you groan again. He noted the sweat rolling down your sides. Debating on what to do, he knew he could help easily but was a little apprehensive. Finally he decided he would do it, your his mate now, bound to him permanently.

"Baby? are you hot?" you nodded

"Yeah and sticky..... I want a cold shower... can I have one when I'm free?" he frowned that would mean you standing up.... he would leak from you.... No. He shook his head

"No you may not, you will lie on your back once free.. I want you full." he said you pouted a little feeling scolded whimpering before you flinched as he blew a cool gust of air onto you. It was cold... Much colder than should have been possible.. And it wasn't to do with how heated your skin was. Clark continued blowing cooling your skin until it was no longer red. He felt himself finally softening once he was sure he could remove himself without any pulling he did sliding back quickly flipping you to your back pulling the pillows below your waist . You laid back wide eyed.. It took him seconds.. Literally seconds to pull out and re-position you... He moved you one handed...WHAT THE FUCK? you squeaked

"Wh-how did you do that? you really are? but your scent i-it was different you wasn't!" you were so confused. He looked down guilty stroking you slowly unable to keep for touching you now that you were bpnded ,he loved how you carried his scent, it was lingering just beneath yours coiling around it.

"I'm sorry, my suit it....changes my scent... I'm not sure why, it may be because its not made here on earth... " you paled as he explained you knew. Your mate was superman. The man of steel. You gasped bringing your hands to your face as you cried

"YOUR AN ASS! do you know how FUCKING SCARED I WAS!" you shouted moving to get up. He was faster pinning you down pushing into your neck.

"I thought you was going to burn me! Kill me!" You wailed into your palms.

"sshh sshh its ok now.. I'm sorry ...I'm so sorry I never intended to scare you, I was just scared...I tried to follow you but you already left....... Then I went looking for you ..... I heard screaming not want sure if it was you, I was so glad as I got closer and smelt you then I saw him..I had intended to just take you home..But seeing you there I knew I had no choice...I had to claim you to keep you safe... I was so close to killing him, I wanted to...You stopped me, if you hadnt run I would have ripped him limb from limb... All I knew in that moment was that I couldnt bare seeing you run from me.. I had to catch you." you settled down as he kissed your mark explaining between small pecks and licks then laid curling at you side. Pulling your hands away.

"I-if I'd known it was you I wouldnt have run from you I would have run to you" you explaind cupping his face lightly he leaned forward kissing him.

"But I cant call you superman or alpha all the time" you smirked he chuckled sliding higher around you leaning over you on his elbow.

"Clark kent" he offered with a kiss

"y/n y/l/n" he smiled before kissing deeply again you were interupted by a loud bannging form somwhere deeper in the apart ment he held out a hand

"Stay I want to give us the best chance for pups" he called out as he grabbed some boxers sliding them up as he walked to the front door opeing it revealing Lois holding out his damaged breifcase she scrunched her nose as the heady smell of there coupling hit her.

"Here I Covered for you, Perry thinks this morning was because your omega was going into heat and you didnt touch her and I told you to leave and 'be an alpha for once' in the end you took my advice and mated her... you have the week off for her heat." she explained then cleared her throat nodding behind him he growled when he spotted you up by the door peeping he pointed back to where you came growling.

"Back in your nest!" you scuttled back into the room with a squeak diving back into your nest of blankets. Placing your hips back on the raised pillows. Lois giggled.

"Don't be too hard on her she probably heard me and panicked... any way I'm off and try to be gentle with her she looks ....small" he nodded closing the door as she turned to leave. He padded into the bedroom spoting you tugging the blankets around you adjusting then readjusting them pouting. He smiled tugging it from you smoothing it around your hips.

"That was lois.. Shes and alpha and a friend nothing to worry about.." you nodded to him as he tucked himself around you again making you rest your head on his chest as he reached down cupping your tummy running his thumb acros the skin below your belly button

"Sleep baby it wont long before I'll mount you again" you blushed at his words but tried to relax anyway letting your mind drift as he wandering fingers pushed you into a deep satisfied slumber.

Taglist @havenoffandoms

[kismetintheuniverse]

Leone Abbacchio x Bruno Bucciarati - Just for the moment.

Tw: Mental Breakdowns/Panic Attacks/Flashbacks/Blood, Read with caution. 

Sorry if the formatting is weird :/

Enjoy! Cut due to tws and length.

“Abbacchio! Watch out, he has a gun!”

Leone’s eye’s suddenly snap wide open, filling his static-like vision with an image of his dark room. His entire body is trembling, and he can feel the sweat pooling underneath his body and onto his sheets.

He sits up in his bed, his breath completely erratic and heavy. The words from his dreams echo in his ears.

Those words were the last one’s he had ever heard from his former partner, from when he worked as an officer.

He runs a hand through his long, silver-purple strands of hair, trying to collect his thoughts.

He has to just breathe. He’s in the present now.

He can faintly see the outline of his own legs under the pillow, he can hear the ticking of the clock in his room. All of it comforts him - to an extent - yet he can’t stop the way his body shakes.

Leone tries to catch his breath, clutching at his chest with his free hand.

All he can think about is those last words, what led him to those events. As he thinks about it, he feels like absolute scum.

He had been a cop once, for the city of Naples. He graduated top of his class, right after finishing high school. He had once been bright eyed, full of hope to make Italy a better place.

He quickly learned that his dream wasn’t possible.

Leone had only been protecting the streets for a few months, but he instantly found so many contradictions. He saw how so many criminals got bailed out instantly, and he was under so much pressure from the local civilians.

One day while patrolling, he cracked.

He took a bribe from some thug, figuring he would get bailed out, even if he did lock him up. They both had something to gain from the situation, and he took advantage of it.

“Go around back, I’ll check the front!”

Fuck, the voice is so vivid within his mind.

With shaking hands, Leone reaches across the expanse of darkness, towards the end table at his bed. His hands stutter around clumsily, feeling the objects on the surface. Hair tie, lipstick, phone, wallet, and so on so forth. After a few moments of searching he feels a box, and takes it into his hands.

He leans against the frame of his bed, using his nimbly fingers to open up the box and slide out the contents. It’s a package of pills, specifically the ones for his depression, ptsd, anxiety. All the 'fun' stuff.

He peels away at the foil, using his rather long and painted nails to peel up the stubborn layer. Once he opens it up, he grabs a pill, tossing the other ones to the side lazily.

He hurriedly pops the medicine into his mouth, scrunching his mouth at the horrid taste, but swallowing regardless.

“Hah…” Leone pants, his voice coming out deep and husky, dry from sleeping all night. He can feel the way his chapped lips push together. However, he makes no attempt to move.

The pale moonlight seeps in through his bedroom window, gently illuminating the wall and floor, just enough to see.

“Oh hey…! It’s you!”

Leone grips his head, a painful throb resonating throughout his entire head. He can feel his stomach churning, his ‘dinner’ from last night threatening to leave. (If you can count wine and cigarettes as a meal.)

With great effort, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, rising to his full (and impressive) height. His head spins, and he stumbles forward a bit, trying not to fall flat on his face. His foot brushes against something smooth and cold, which causes him to flinch.

His mind instantly goes to a stand attack, but once he looks down, he finds it’s just an empty beverage bottle. That nightmare has really put him on edge.

He takes slow steps forwards, his arms extended out awkwardly to make sure he doesn’t ram face-first into a wall. He’s never had the best vision at night, his eyes have a rare sort of defect. It causes them to be a weird mixture of purple and yellow, but he doesn’t mind. He barely takes care of his looks beyond hair and makeup. Too much effort.

He finally reaches his door, and he grabs the cold, brass knob, turning it and swinging the door open. The hallway is dark as well, the faint outline of pictures being present on the wall.

It’s completely silent as he makes his way down the hall, except for the faint sound of music playing. He furrows his eyebrows, wondering who could be awake at this hour. (Well he already could rule out a few people, Fugo since he sleeps like a rock and goes to bed early, Narancia because all he listens to is Snoop Dog.) That leaves Mista, Giovanna, and Bruno. He figures Bruno is the most likely to be up.

He doesn’t worry himself with it too much, making it to the stairway and heading downstairs. He's already got too much on his mind.

“You can pretend you never saw this… Right?”

Leone gulps dryly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck and scratching it. His skin feels like it’s crawling everywhere, and it’s driving him insane.

He speeds up his pace, making it through the darkness and into the kitchen. The tile feels cold and smooth under his feet - it’s a weird sensation. Either way, he makes towards the counters, reaching up top into the cabinets.

Swinging the cabinet door open, he feels around for a glass, and eventually settles on what could seemingly be one. He pulls it out and flips it in his hand, shuffling over to the sink.

Usually he’d rather have filtered water from a bottle, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. He feels for the handles and turns the cold side on, hastily sticking it under the faucet. The noise of the water running is rather loud but he can't be bothered to care.

He takes a long sip of the water, his dry throat instantly feeling some relief. The dark part of his mind screams that he doesn't deserve the drink. He tries to ignore but it swarms towards the front of his head, making him feel even shittier.

“It’ll be our secret, c-come on, man!”

His stomach twists into knots, and all he can do is force down another drink of his water. It’d sure be nice if his medication kicked in.

He sits down the glass clumsily on the counter, propping his arms against the edge of the sink and leaning forward. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose. Though - no matter how hard he breathes - he can’t get that metallic stench out of his nose. He can still feel that warm, sticky, crimson liquid splatter onto his chest and face, everywhere. It feels like he's choking on his own thoughts, and he hates it. He just wants it to stop.

“Abbacchio!”

“Abbacchio?”

Leone nearly jumps out of his skin, his eyes snapping open his stand energy flowing from him freely. Though, through the darkness, he can see Bruno in front of him, wrapped in a robe and holding something in his hand. “Watch out, he has a gun!”

He grabs his head, trying to mask it by running his hands through his hair and pushing it back.

“What're you doing up, Capo?” He questions, his voice gritty and sounding a bit irritated. He hates himself even more. The figure of Bruno takes a few steps back, his hand running along the wall.

The lights flicker on. He’s able to see Bruno fully, his messy hair, coffee mug in his hand, everything. Even the dark circles underneath his eyes, which concerns him. He'd question him if he weren't currently drowning in self-pity.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Bruno replies suspiciously, narrowing his eyes slowly. Leone reaches back and grabs his cup from the counter, shakily bringing it to his lips. God, he needs to get it together.

“Hard time sleeping,” He mumbles, each word feeling like it’s sticking to the back of his throat. He hated feeling weak, and right now, he was feeling more vulnerable than ever. Bruno takes a few steps forward, as slowly as a snail. He seemed weary and concerned, which just made Leone feel worse.

“You’re shaking terribly,” Bruno points out after a deafening moment of stillness and silence. He was right, Leone was having a hard time even standing on his feet.

“I’ll tell e-everyone what you did!”

Leone chokes on air, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head from side to side. It was all his fault. He put this suffering upon himself, and he deserved it.

“I’m fine,” He growls out, lowering his head. Bruno shouldn’t have to worry about him, he’s an adult! He already has the brats to deal with. He shouldn't have to deal with a grown mans problems. God, how pathetic.

“No, you’re not, talk to me,” Bruno demands, the tone in his voice taking up that maternal sound. He keeps his eyes closed, he knew if he opened them up, he would fall apart at the seams.

“I told you I’m fine!” He shouts, his voice coming out louder than intended. He grabs his head, feeling it throb painfully. Wow, he managed to make his headache even worse. Why can’t he do anything right?

“Leone,” Bruno uses his first name, and before he can even process it, there’s a gentle hand laying on his shoulder.

“Watch out!”

The taller male breaks, jerking himself away from Bruno, letting out a dry sob; all with his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to be touched. Not on his shoulder. Not where he had been pulled out of the way, a life for a life. He leans backwards against the counter, covering his eyes with his forearm. He can feel tears pricking at his eyes, and it stings like a bitch.

“L-Leone,” Bruno stutters out, sounding a bit astonished. His breathing picks up in speed. Great, now he’s worried. That’s all he ever is, a worry, a nuisance. He hates this feeling. Why aren’t his pills working by now?

“Please, breathe, it’s alright,” The ravenette places both his hands on Leone’s shoulders. He can’t help but break even more, a single tear rolling down his pale cheek.

“Leo,” Bruno’s tone softens into something he’s only heard a few times before. The tone he uses to calm Mista from his tetraphobia induced panic attacks, when Narancia gets nightmares, when Fugo goes into his bouts of rage, when Trish feels weak and upset. If he opened his eyes, he knew the look Bruno would have on his face.

“I-” He cuts himself off with a dry sob, his chest heaving up and down for air. “I said I-I'm fine,” He states, yet the weakness of his voice and tears running down his cheeks say otherwise. He aggressively wipes away the tears at his eyes, letting out a few coughs.

He keeps his eyes screwed shut tight, and he can hear light footsteps approach him. Within seconds, he feels a warm pair of arms wrap around him, despite his arm over his face. He slowly removes it, body still shaking and chest heaving.

He can’t see much - not through his bleary and teary eyes. However, the feeling of Bruno’s warmth soothed him to an extent. He slowly returns the hug, sniffling quietly and resting his head next to Bruno’s. He doesn’t want to let go - he feels like he might float away if he does.

“Breathe,” Bruno mummers softly, rocking back and forth gently on his feet. If he weren’t so upset - he would have chuckled at the way the ravenette is treating him like a child. He tries his best to breathe, but he ends up exhaling and coughing hard.

“Hey, take it easy,” Bruno says, leaning away from the hug to presumably take a look at his face. However, Leone pulls him back with his trembling arms, letting out a quiet sob. A few more tears build within his eyes. God, he feels so useless, clinging to his Capo like some kind of kid. He’s older than him for god’s sake!

“Come on, you have to just breathe,” The ravenette insists, exaggerating his own breathing to give him a guide. “I’m here,” Bruno reassures, patting his back and rubbing circles on it. Leone feels better at this, some of his tears subdued. Still, the guilt pricks at his senses.

He tries to match his breathing with Bruno, this time his coughs calming. He felt like he was suffocating, but he still tried his best, inhaling hard. He leans on him slightly, his eyes feeling so wet and sticky.

“Come on, let’s go sit down,” He hums softly, slowly separating his body from Leone’s. The taller male lets him do so, feeling significantly calmer than before. His entire body still trembles, but his breathing is stable enough for the moment.

Bruno wraps an arm around his shoulder, and Leone gratefully uses the support, the two of them walking in tandem out of the kitchen. He can see clearer, but he relies on his Capo to be his eyes for the moment, closing his eyes.

“Sit down,” Bruno beckons, and he opens his eyes, finding himself in front of the couch. He tenses his eyebrows, slowly sitting down on the couch. He - metaphorically - feels his joints creak. However, the soft material against his body calms him. The couch dips beside him, Bruno joining him and tentatively placing a hand on his knee.

“Now, can you tell me what’s going on?” The Capo speaks softly and with empathy, and Leone has the feeling that Bruno already knew what had shaken him. The white-haired male lets out a long and shaky sigh, lowering his head to the side in embarrassment.

“I… Alessandro,” Leone mumbles gruffly, leaning his head back against the couch and covering his eyes with his forearm. He feels his heart clench painfully just saying his partner's name. He’s gone, and it’s his fault. That was set in stone for him, no matter how much Bruno had told him otherwise.

“Oh, Leone,” Bruno sighs in a sad tone, his hand gently pushing his forearm from his eyes. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the ceiling, feeling guilty tears build in his eyes again. All he is a disappointment, a burden. He doesn’t want to feel like this, he just wants to feel numb.

“You know it isn’t your fault, right?” Bruno asks rhetorically, leaning his head against Leone’s broad shoulder. “No one blames you. I didn’t know Alessandro personally but, I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to feel like this. He sacrificed his life so you could continue on,” Bruno looks up towards Leone, and can see the tears sliding down his face.

“You don’t know that,” He mumbles as a weak response, his voice scratchy and dry. Instinctively, Bruno reaches out his hand, wiping away Leone’s stray tears with his thumbs. Leone notices the calloused texture of his hand and lets out a low sigh - he’d have to offer him some lotion one day.

“I do,” Bucciarati replies with a bittersweet smile, shaking his head, “I sure do.” Leone doesn’t have to ask to know what he means. He brings his head back down, looking at Bruno's face. It’s full of concern, and a glint of something else.

“I can’t do anything right,” Prying his eyes away from Bruno’s icy blue eyes and dragging a hand down his face. He rubs the bags under his eyes. He’s going to need a lot of concealer later on. He moves his hands away, his lip pulling into a grimace.

“Don’t say that, it’s not true,” Bruno mumbles, his hand wandering down to Leone’s chin. A shiver runs up his spine, and he averts his eyes quickly. It is true, how come Bruno sees it differently? Hell, he should be disgusted with him, but here is, soothing him from his breakdown.

“Look at me,” Bruno demands firmly, gently tugging his chin to where he was basically forced to look at him. Leone’s two-toned eyes land on the icy blue ones in front of him. He can see a lot within his eyes - worry, determination, nostalgia.

He notices something else. Bruno is looking at him like he’s-

“I love you, Leo,” Bruno proclaims, sucking in a long breath of air.

What? He what? Leone blinks a few times in shock. No way.

The two both subconsciously lean forward, neither one daring to take a breath. Leone can’t even believe it’s happening, Bruno said he loves him? He can’t tell if God is cruel for this, or if it’s a miracle.

He doesn’t have time to mull over it. Their faces become inches apart, and Leone’s eyes flutter shut. He feels Bruno’s breath tickle against his face, and before he knows it, their lips connect. It’s so soft, like laying his lips on a warm cloud. He can clearly feel how dry his own lips are. However, he feels so much overwhelming love in the kiss - he hopes he’s also returning that same love.

After only a few moments, they both gently lean away from each other, separating their lips. Leone’s eyes flutter open, and he sees the flushed look on Bruno’s face, his lips pressed into a tight line. Leone returns the expression, his eyebrows tensing and his face turning slightly red. He has wanted to do that for the longest time.

Leone reaches out his hand, grabbing Bruno’s within his own. “Spend your love on someone worthy of it,” He mumbles, looking away, his heart twinging painfully. He really does love Bucciarati, but how could he ever make him happy. Bruno saved his life, that’s a debt he can never repay. Add housing, food, and joy? Yeah.

“Leo, this is not time for your self-deprecating bullshit, hear me?” Bruno suddenly raises his voice, an extremely firm tone. He looks… mad? However, not in the same way he’d get made at enemies on the battlefield - not in the same way he got mad when he lost track of something. It was more of… firm concern? “I don’t care what you say, you’re worth it! Don’t feel like you owe me anything, alright! I’m not going to say it again,” Bruno insists with a finalized tone, giving Leone’s hand a squeeze with each word. Leone was rendered speechless, how in the world could he respond to that?

He knew he couldn’t verbally respond, so instead, he lifts Bruno’s hands to his lips, grazing a soft kiss onto his knuckles.

“Now, you need rest, alright?” Bruno adds in a much softer tone than before, a small smile on his face. Leone rolls his eyes, leaning forward towards Bruno.

“Yeah, whatever,” He mumbles, his free hand reaching out and tucking a loose strand of Bruno’s hair behind his ear. "Sorry for all of this," He adds, chuckling dryly. His eyes felt so heavy from all the tears he had shed, and his head still throbbed painfully. However, Bruno was there, and that's all that matters. For the moment, he'd be fine.

Just for the moment.

[phantomphangphucker]

Danny's Hardly Stable

Summary:  Pain brings fear, but the pain is not what he fears.

WARNING: Angst and serious injury

Danny rolls over in his covers only to snap his eyes open and gasp in pain. Promptly squeezing his arms around his chest, before moving to grip onto his arms. Curling in on himself and pulling his hands away to stare at them. Now everything hurt and he could see that his veins looked to be slightly fizzing. Wincing as he stiffly grabs the post of his bed to yank himself up, blankets getting shoved to the floor in the process, as he starts coughing. After the third or fourth cough, he pulls his hands to cup in front of his mouth, feeling sticky wetness.

But he doesn’t get to ponder on the sticky thick feel or acidic lemony saltwater smell of ectoplasm, as the world seems to tilt sideways then pitch forwards. Causing him to stagger and slam his face into the wall. Stepping back and spinning to face his door, clutching and almost stabbing into his throat as more painful coughs wracked him. Only getting one footstep towards the door before being overcome by a full-body spasm, making him hiss through clenched teeth as his jaw locks up. Before sharp biting pain prompts him to wrap an arm around his stomach, before slowly sinking down onto his knees. Tracing his other hand down the wall as he goes to curl up, coughing and sputtering out ectoplasm onto his bedroom floor all the while.

Coughing and hacking some more before forcing himself to get back up and get out. Half dragging and half walking across his room, clutching onto everything he possibly can as he goes. He’d normally be bothered about getting ectoplasm on things but the only thing he could comprehend now was pain, shaking, and the fact that he was leaking.

It takes a few swipes at his door handle to get the door open, leaving it smeared green. And falling back down, splashing into the pool of green around his feet, multiple times in the process.

He can tell using anything ghostly right now is a bad idea, so he leans against the hallway wall and then the stairway walls. Staggering down as quietly as he can, not caring or wanting to look at the messy trail he’s probably leaving behind and painfully aware of his parents' voices in the kitchen.

Each step sending pain shooting through his stomach and rattling around in his chest. His core feeling like a drum being banged as hard as possible in time with his hammering heartbeat. The fact that his heart feels like it’s beating faster wouldn’t be so worrying if it wasn’t for the fact that it seemed to be beating faster than a normal, not half-dead, heart does. Danny has to grip the edge of the banister to keep from teetering over after the last step. It’s taking all of his energy just to stay upright, so the way his body waves back and forth is expected. But the world itself seems to also be waving around, and not in time with his body, which is making nausea bubble up inside his throat and his stomach squeeze; making the pain increase and something feels as if it shifted or squished.

Moving one arm to clench his stomach and catching his parents fiddling with something rather erratically, out of the corner of his eyes. They look happy, why was his pain so often occurring at the same time as their happiness.

Danny can’t help but stare into the kitchen, at the kitchen table, as he slowly manages enough steadiness to be able to walk the few feet to the door. He doesn’t know what the new invention is but, judging by how it’s lit up, it’s probably to blame for all of this mess. Thinking of messes makes him look down, cringing at the gory green mess. His shirt and pants are so soaked it’s almost as if they started out green, but the little slivers of blue, red or white gives the truth away; that, and the thick glowing stickiness. Lifting up one foot and softly putting it down, only to feel the squish of spilled ectoplasm in between his toes. Blinking at his elbow as he watches a droplet fall off slowly, making a little splash in the puddle around him. It’s almost depressing that his first thought is about how he’s happy there’s no red in it, since his parents will think it’s just some ghost they messed up. Rather than anything with human in it, because if there was red they might test it. This way, well, maybe they won’t even bother.

But it turns out, moving his head that much was a horrible decision. Making the world spin violently and his ears ring. Feeling panic bubble up in his chest, Danny staggers towards the door; just wanting to get out. Get anywhere else. Only getting two steps before his legs give out, knees slamming into each other, but by sheer luck, he manages to catch himself on the table. Feeling ectoplasm slug out of his mouth onto the floor, before the ringing becomes too much and he vomits; stars dancing in his eyes all the while.

The act of vomiting seems to decrease the ringing but covers everything in a harsh static sound, barely hearing chairs scrape against floor, over it.

Danny wheezes in an attempt to get up, only managing to slush more ectoplasm out of his mouth and making some bubble out of his nose. Shakily lifting his head only to find he has no clue what way is up and whether the door is above his head or directly in front of him. Gripping the table tighter to centre himself only for his fingers to slip off, the table made slick with ectoplasm. Chest and face slamming onto the floor and splashing up ectoplasm. Blinking his eyes rapidly and groaning as droplets splash up into his eyes. In a last-ditch effort to find some kind of protection, Danny grips the carpeting and pulls himself under the table. Or at least he assumes he did based on the slight darkness.

Coughing and gagging on his own ectoplasm more, as something grabbing his ankle startles him. Jerking his head up and slamming it into, what he assumes is, the underside of the living room table. Making his vision nothing but a sea of black, grey, white and green spots. His gut tells him what he felt was probably one of his parents' hands. Well aware of the mess all over him and coating his face, Danny wraps his arms and hands around his face, in an attempt to hide the ectoplasm leaking out of him. Trying to curl up more but only able to move the one leg, as he’s too weak to fight the grip on his ankle. The movement making his stomach churn more.

Squeezing his arms tighter around his head and making his vision seem to spark with electricity, as the slightly dimmed light returns to full brightness jarringly. Danny can’t help but whimper, resulting in another bout of coughs and his ribs feeling as if someone is smashing them with a baby rattle or rocks.

Danny hardly pays attention to the slow speech he can hardly make out as the ectoplasm in his throat and nose bubbles and foams aggressively.

“J....ac.....k......i..t......Da.....y....so......in.......hur..t.....” (Jack! It’s Danny! Somethings hurt him!)

Danny flinches as he feels and hears loud reverberations across the floor. Flinching more as something thick and wet splashes on his exposed arms. He doesn’t even have to guess what it is, the texture of his ectoplasm having long been made familiar to him from years of injuries. But the contact on his skin makes all of him twitch and spasm, as if all his muscles are both trying to attack and flee. Or like they’re being eaten alive.  

“de...vi......of...f.........ge.....tur..n......it.....h..s...b....hur..tin.....Da...y” (turn the device off! Get it! Turn it off! That has to be what’s hurting Danny!)

Danny gargles and jerks his head/arms down as he feels himself being yanked off the floor. Making everything in his head swim and churn. The movement becomes too much, just after he feels spandex against his face, and vomits all over his arms. This time nothing is relieved by the action, instead, he feels his skin twitching, vibrating, and pins and needles fill his stomach.

The sudden feeling of intense liquid cold dropping into his stomach and slugging up into his throat makes him go from painful fear to completely terrified. Opening his mouth and gasping, a scream trying to escape, as the cold slams into his spasming ribs and against a portion of his spine. Yanking his arms and hands down his face to paw at his chest. Faintly making out a faint crack and yelp over the static and, returned full force, ringing as he does so.  

He can tell that whoever is holding or carrying him is breathing a bit harder but, judging by how he’s sucking in air in short bursts, his own breathing is more worrying. Especially because he shouldn’t actually need to, but trying to stop it just leaves him choking and gasping harder; sending shooting pain and cold fire through his chest and throat. Danny flinches slightly as something touched his hair and seems to drag across it, making his hair stick to his skin; sticky and drenched. He can tell it’s not just ectoplasm making it wet, but sweat as well. Danny flinches every time the touch on his hair returns and repeats the same motion.  

“D...nn.....swe.....Da....y....yo...k......be.......o....ka..”. (Danny, sweetie. D-Danny, you’re o-okay. B-be okay)

Danny can feel he's being put down on something, judging by the sudden even pressure on his whole side. But the pressure against his ribs makes his chest feel as if it's wobbling and splitting at the seems. Pitching forward to get away from the sensation, head slamming into something soft. But the impact feels more like a hammer, making him whimper in pain. With all the quick motion and stars in his head making him throw up again. Sucking in a breath, as it feels more like liquid nitrogen than acidic saltwater. Which only makes him panic even more, he’s never lost core ectoplasm before but he’s got a horrible gut feeling that this is what it feels and tastes like. Sliding away from the pain and mess, only to fall or rise up, he can’t really tell. Promptly slamming his back into more ectoplasmic mess and his legs bending and tangling together painfully, though he’s pretty sure someone caught his head.

Feeling something hook under his arms, lifting him up. But his chest and stomach just seem to sag, limp. His spine feels more like a soggy noodle than anything else. And the sloshing in his chest, thick water seemingly only being held back by skin, tells him his ribs are probably not solid right now.

Wheezing as he feels his back come into contact with something again. Desperately grasping his hands onto whatever’s in front of him, to do his damnedest to hold himself up and away from the painful contact.

“I........wh........do.....hur...t.....g......hi....wh....n........do”. (I think what we’re doing is just hurting him, what do we need to do!)

“Ho...d....d....wha....is.....wh...hap....ing..o....m”. (How did this-what do we-what is, what’s happening to him?!?)

Danny feels something hook under his arms again, but doesn’t get to think on it as his chest vibrates with sharp pains. Clenching his teeth and gasping, before slamming his arms over his chest. Promptly ripping them back away as the pain makes the world turn into nothing but waves of too bright colours. The only positive is the return of colours, other than just green, let’s him see the wiggles of blue and orange. But the comfort those colours bring quickly changes to fear, unsure if they mean family and safety and home and help or hunting and wounds and scalpels and pain and tears and nightmares and monster. Danny attempts at panic pleading and begging, only for him to just sputter and cough more before convulsing and forcefully curling in on himself.

Seconds later releasing gargled giggles at the feeling of a massive adrenaline surge, as spots and sparkles dance in his eyes. Giving him enough energy to yank himself up to stand, teetering slightly and rolling his head around to the orange colour that is behind or possibly beside or maybe below him.  Before pulling his hands in front of his mouth again, feeling thick wetness filling up his throat. Staggering as he catches vomit in his hands, at least half of it spilling through and over his fingers. Unable to restrain wet giggles at the lack of cold.

“ls.......is....go...d....be...r...ay.....D..nn.....D......y”. (Please, it-there is so much, god, be okay Danny. Please Danny)

Danny steps forward, the grip under his arms following, only for his knees to give out again. Shooting his hands out erratically to catch himself again but, judging by everything going black, that didn’t work out too well.

Danny comes to in, what he assumes to be, water, or at least he hopes it’s water. Twitching a finger which collides with something solid but clearly floating. With a groan, he cracks open his eyes, instantly panicked at the wavy sight of the lab ceiling. Flashes of nightmares rattling around his brain. Jerking himself up to realise that he is indeed in, and had been under, water; ice water, in a bathtub to be specific.

Attempting to speak, “wh-”, getting cut off by painful spasms in his throat. Wincing and closing his eyes before looking back at the water. But tilting his head down more to look at his chest, having seen some kind of metal in the corner of his vision. Going wide-eyed and starting to shake, at the sight of waterproof bandaging and at least fifteen metal rods sticking out of his chest. The fact that the rods were clearly covered in frost with patches of ice, only freaking him out more.

Flinching at the sound of beeping and flinching again at the sound of footsteps. Instantly pulling his arms around his chest protectively, but not daring to bump the metal rods out of fear.

Danny and his mom stare at each other, in doing so Danny realises everything is still waving around a bit and blurry. Danny turns his head a bit to look at his dad as he comes down, but that motion combined with him not holding onto the tub, makes him sway around a bit. Spurring his mom to rush over and grab his arm, Danny snapping his head over to her and thus making himself even more dizzy, as she speaks softly at him, “you’re okay, you’re okay. You need to stay under the water, sweetie. You, you need to”. Danny just blinks at her, one part hopeful she’s trying to help and one part terrified that this is some experiment. The terrified part easily winning out in his confused and still painfilled state. Trying to pull away from her but bumping one of the rods on the side of the tub. Jerkily curling in on himself and hissing in pain, as his chest feels like someone just stabbed him with jagged hot coals and then kicked him.

His mom starts gently splashing up ice water onto his back as he starts coughing, before hissing again in pain and clutching his throat. Promptly yanking his hands away as that just makes it hurt more. Then making stars dance in his vision as he accidentally whacks the rods with his hands.

Danny flinches as his dad grabs his hands and holds them still, “son, Danny, you’re hurting yourself. Your mom’s right, you need to lay back down”. Danny tenses, wanting to yank his hands away and just pull all of his body in on itself, but too afraid of more pain to do anything other than sit stiff. His dad shuffles in the silence, only the occasional splashing of water and ringing being heard by Danny. His dad clears his throat, “Danny-boy, we, we’re trying to help. Your body, it’s too hot for your...your core. Your chest needs to be cold, so you can reform. Get-get better, so you can be okay-y. Y-You’ll be okay”. Danny’s fear gets chipped away at the sight of his dad starting to crying. Flicking his eyes to his mom, who’s blinking a lot, before Danny nods faintly. Letting both of them lower him back under the water.

Danny lays there, his dad rubbing his fingers over Danny’s submerged hand, while his mom’s running around. Danny scrunched up his eyebrows at a question, something to do with the brown something on her arm, but promptly loses it as he spends the next few hours, days, or maybe minutes, flicking in and out of consciousness.

Danny picks up bits and pieces during his bouts of awake awareness, but it makes about as much sense as waking up underwater did. Sometimes his chest feels less like soup, sometimes it felt almost normal actually. Sometimes his parents were there, sometimes not. Most of what they said was muffled by the water but it was usually soothing or scientifically analytical. The first made him feel like he knew what the word “okay” meant but the second reminded him that he never got to just be “okay”, his life was pain and he was a freak.

Danny comes to a bit more properly aware and pulls himself to sit up slowly. He’s never been more aware of water tension dragging on his hair and skin, than right now. Breathing hard and resting his chin on the side of the tub. Each breath making the metal creak and his chest spasm, the noise was enough to draw his dads’ attention apparently; as he appears in front of Danny and kneels down. “Hey buddy, I’m sorry but you need to stay under a bit longer. Is there something you need me to do?”

Danny wheezes, the feeling of pulling in air and it feeling like an old friend rather than a common occurrence, freaking him out a bit. He didn’t like forgoing such a basic human bodily function for so long. It made him feel wrong, different, less human. Danny looks down at the water and shakes his head, taking another breath even though it hurts. The sound of his dad shuffling makes Danny look at him again, “did, did you just want to breathe?”. Danny nods, feeling embarrassed and ashamed.

Danny keeps his eyes on the water as he hears his dad stand up, before he starts pouring the ice water over Danny’s back and shoulders. “Then you just breathe, I’ll worry about your temperature, son”. Danny winds up passing out again like that, the last thing he hears is splashing water and the feeling of his dad’s hands cupping his head and hooked under one arm.

The next time Danny properly wakes up, he’s laying on his side on some fabric. Twitching his fingers before scrunching the light grey fabric up in his fingers. The small motion making his fingers ache and nearly all of his joints pop. Speaking with his voice coming out harsh and scratchy, “now where?”. Flinching and jerking to sit up at his moms' sudden voice, making the world tilt and static crackle in his ears; many of his joints popping in the process and he’s pretty sure some of his bones creak very audibly.

“In bed and -woah. Sweetie be careful”. His mom grabs Danny’s arm gently, prompting Danny to look at her. Going wide-eyed at what is clearly a cast on her left arm, as she speaks while guiding him to lay back on his side, “your core, your ectoplasm, it’s still stabilising, still reforming, still healing. I don’t know just how much this is affecting you overall, but quick movements are only going to make it worse. You can move, just slowly. Okay, sweetie?”.

Danny nods, croaking out, “your......arm?”. She nods and bites her lip before grabbing a chair and sitting down in front of Danny, Danny following her with his eyes all the while. Danny scrunches up his eyebrows as she pats at the cast, but the motion makes his skin feel like it’s being stabbed; so he just relaxes into a more neutral expression, as his mom replies. “It just got hit hard, it’s okay sweetie and it doesn’t really matter now. His mom shifts a bit and he has a feeling he’s not getting the whole story. He knows she didn’t have that earlier, before everything was pain, before they knew he was a thing. Danny hisses out, more so from emotional or mental pain, at realising it must have happened when he was all messed up, which means he must have done it. His mom clearly picking up on his realisation, “it doesn’t matter. A-accidents happen”. Danny glances down, “everyone......involved with me.....always gets........broken...sorry”. His mom pets down the side of his head, “s-sweetie no. You-you’re the broken one here. I, me, us, we-we’re the ones that-that need to be apologising”, she looks away and bites her lower lip.

Danny can tell she doesn’t want to continue with this; and if anyone can get hiding and ignoring injuries, it was him, “and..what happened....after I....got down..stairs? Kind....of blurry. You...were in.....kitchen”.

His mom blinks and nods, “I-I’m not sure what happened between the stairs and you ending up under the table, but I’m pretty sure you t-threw up. You threw up a few times for sure”, she grimaces, “I heard you and came out. You-you were a complete mess. I didn’t know what to do, there was ectoplasm everywhere and I didn’t know why”, shaking her head, “when your father heard me shout, he came over and tossed the table away. I think you were trying to hide under it because you curled up then. I-I think you were, you were hiding from us...”. His mom looks at the floor as she trails off. Danny nods, feeling guilty, “y-yeah....didn’t, didn’t know....what you’d...do. A-and...hurt-”. His moms whisper cuts Danny off, “you looked like you were. And-and I don’t blame you for being scared. You were in pain and-and, god, we were causing it. And you, you’re, different, we knew that. We should have, should have known. We knew our stuff picked up on you, reacted to you. We-we should have known it could, it could hurt you”, Danny watches her squeeze her hands, seeing tear drops land on her gloves.

Danny can’t help but be compelled to soothe her, “okay....it’s..okay. How could you....have known. Was....hiding..it”. She shakes her head, “parents, we’re supposed to know. We’re supposed to be able to tell, to see past the lies. But we-we didn’t. And it, and that, it hurt you. Has been hurting you. T-there’s no way, no way none of our other, things, haven’t hurt you, hurt you too”. His mom cups his face, looking at him with tears streaming down her face, “I-we, I thought you were dying. That we, that we h-had killed you. Destroyed you. T-that we were, were going to l-lose you. All because we didn’t, didn’t see. Didn’t understand. Didn’t know”, his moms hand drops from Danny’s face as she stares down at the floor, Danny grabbing her wrist as she talks, even if the movement hurts his chest, “we wanted to destroy ghosts and we, we, we almost-”, his moms sob cuts her off as she puts her hands over her face.

She sits with her lips pressed to the top of Danny’s hand for a while. Before pushing his arm back onto the bed and standing up. Whipping her eyes, “but you wanted to know what happened. After-after I got Jack to turn it off, you stood up off the couch”, shaking her head, “earlier I had tried laying you down on it, the couch, but I think-think that just hurt you more”, sitting back down and meeting Danny’s eyes, “then you started making this strangled gargling sound a-and passed out”, his mom looks away, and Danny has a feeling she’s trying to restrain more sobbing. Danny tries to chuckle but just winds up wheezing in pain and coughing.

“Sweetie? You okay? This, this isn’t too much? Is it?”.

Danny shakes his head slowly, “‘m fine. Just, the....sound, was...I think, think I....was....giggling. Adrenaline surge....those can...make me a bit.....giddy and...silly”.

His mom slumps back down into the chair, “you were, were laughing? In pain and laughing?”, she shakes her head, “that-that’s not important. After you...passed out, Jack carried you down to the lab. We had to, had to find out why. What happened, why were you hurting and all the, ectoplasm. A-and the cold blue ectoplasm worried us even more. Never, never seen that before”.

Danny nods, knowing he really had been leaking core ectoplasm was completely horrifying, that meant he really could have died/been destroyed. Even he couldn’t survive his core being completely destroyed or losing all its ectoplasm, “core. But I...think you know....that”. His mom nods and looks at his chest, “ice core. We assumed. When we tested the regular ectoplasm and found it was sentient, true ghost ectoplasm. We didn’t consider what that meant, what that meant you were or could be. We just-just fixed you”. Danny can’t help his chest figuratively, and literally which hurt, swelling over her telling him that. That they didn’t even give a damn what he was or wasn’t, that they just wanted him to be okay. And that they’d put aside their scientific curiosity to help him. But now that the major crisis was over, would they feel different? Even if they didn’t want him destroyed, would he still be a thing in their eyes?

His mom rubs at her eyes again and looks at the floor, “the thing, the invention we were working on, had just-just started up. It was meant to, did, it did, disrupt the three base nuclei in ectoplasm and-and make it recognise each other as food. Make it, cannibalise, each other, itself. But also make the ectoplasmic cell walls, e-ectophobic. Repelling itself. Your core, it-it boiled the core shell. Your core ectoplasm tried to, tried to cool it down but that wouldn’t, couldn’t, work. So it, it tried to escape. The boiling, it melted your bones but your skin, it froze up. So much so that nothing could get out. It-that, it saved you”. So he had been simultaneously boiling and freezing alive, add in melting, corroding and auto cannibalism. And now he was being impaled.

Danny pales a bit realising she had misinterpreted something. But he knew what his core overacting felt like, what freezing over felt like, shaking his head with careful slowness, “no, no, the boiling....that saved me. Core would have....made popsicle....of me. Would have....needed...de-icing chamber”.  

“But you were too hot? It took four hours to cool you down enough for your core ectoplasm to start reforming?”.

“Didn’t say.....boiling was..good. Just...hot and cold is better....than just extreme cold. Was too cold....then...too warm. Or first too warm? Hard to...say”.

She nods, “okay, that’s okay. You’re equalised now. We made this serum, that reversed everything, reversed the damage done, made it stronger even. The nuclei and bonds. Well, it did on our samples, on you it just seemed to make your ectoplasm multiply faster. Which ectoplasm shouldn’t even do in the first place”, shaking her head, “that-that’s not important. So it made your body produce more ectoplasm quicker than it was being destroyed, till the machines frequency waves were nullified. Jack, he also made some bath salts; for the water you were in. To numb the pain”. Danny blinks, all that had been with the pain being numbed? Part of him wants to thank his dad, the other part is just terrified they messed up his body. Messing with his cells on such a deep level, was both horrifying in that it made him feel like an experiment and because of what messing with his body, his core especially, could change him into. Danny nods, “and....when I woke up? In the....water...was I still....boiling? And the....rods?”.

His mom pats at his hand, “you were too hot, what counts as a fever for you, I guess. It was making it impossible for your core shell to thicken and solidify. And whenever your temp got too high, it would start activating and using up whatever core ectoplasm you’d managed to reform”, she shuffles and glances warily at the rods, “you need the poles to stabilise and help shape the core shell. It kept deforming or trying to reform in the wrong spot, then collapsing in on itself. I-I figured out where it was supposed to be, by-by where was the most...damaged”.

Danny shivers, every time his core had reformed was probably a roll of a twenty-sided die, regarding what would happen to him. But the sheer amount of work and time they would have had to put into making this rod, pole, set up was a bit comforting, “so, sort of...like a cast.....or splint”.

Both his mom and him flinch, as his dad walks in, holding soup. His face lighting up at the sight of Danny, “you’re up! Um, soup?”. Danny shakes his head slowly, pretty sure that anything really warm or cold was probably a bad idea. Food, in general, was probably a bad idea, considering how messed up his neck currently felt and how his stomach had felt. Touching his throat gingerly, even the slight pressure against it felt like kicking a bruise, with a steel-toed boot. His mom puts her hands on her hips, “Jack, that’s much too warm for him”.

“Oh right, um, sorry Danny-boy”, Danny blinks, slightly soothed at his dad calling him that. Though he still looks away from his dad, “it’s....fine”. Danny can hear his dad pull up a chair next to his mom, “feeling better?”.

Danny looks down at his chest, his bones were proper bones again and he didn’t feel like someone had stuffed him with liquid nitrogen or was vibrating all his veins. But he was weak, in pain more pain than he was used to anyway, and had horrible balance. Or at least he assumes he did, based on how things would swirl or tilt if he moved his eyes or head. That wasn’t even mentioning the ringing and occasional static, “I’m...better. More...stable I guess. Not good or....okay, though”. His dad squeezes his shoulder lightly, “that’s expected. You really went through the wringer but like any Fenton, you come out stronger”. His mom winces before Danny speaks, “I’ll check out my.....blood work, before I....agree”. His dad tilts his head sideways slightly, “little funny to call it that, since there’s no blood. Ghosts don’t have that, but that’s okay. You’re okay, so it’s okay”.

Danny instantly mentally panics, damn near stabbing himself in the face with his nails, in his haste to nip his teeth through the skin on his finger. Making damn sure he actually had his blood. Sighing happily at the forming red droplet, grumbling as his parents gape at him, “don’t....scare me..like that. I...have blood”. Showing them his finger, though a bit concerned that it’s taking so long to heal. His dad rubs Danny’s finger, “so you do”. His mom shakes her head, “that-that’s not important right now. If there’s something you want us to check we can. Blood or, ectoplasm”. Danny shuffles a bit on the bed, making sure not to jostle the poles in the process, “not yet. Once I’m recovered...I need to know if.....my equilibrium is the same..... Still stable”.

Danny looks around, kind of terrified of explaining this. He doesn’t want to be an experiment, doesn’t want to be more freaky to them. He was certainly already wrong in their eyes, apparently still Danny but they couldn’t truly be okay having a ghost for family. They’ve said as much with both words and actions, and he was even more of an abomination. “I know what...you guys think. Of me. What I...am. But, I’m not, not all.....ghost. Just......just half”. His mom grabs his hand, “sweetie, you’re Danny. That’s all that matters. You don’t need to defend yourself. Not to and-and n-not from us”. His dad smiles, “besides, if any family ought to have ghostly family, it’s us. Any amount of ghostly, even if it’s more than just the ectocontamination we used to think it was”.

“But...you guys hate.....ghosts”.

His dad looks at the floor and his mom squeezes her hands. His dad shakes himself and pats Danny’s shoulder, “family’s family. A Fenton’s a Fenton. Blood, ectoplasm or both. Always”. His mom nods, tearing up again, “you-you’re our son, sweetie. If anyone should be-be afraid of being h-hated, it’s us. God, the things we’ve put-put in your head. About w-what you are. And now this”, she shakes her head, “we’ve been wrong plenty in life. But this, this was w-what we were most wrong about”. Danny nods, not really sure how much he really believes that, or if they’re just making some exclusion for him. They didn’t even really understand what he was, how freaky he was. But he’s feeling a bit too exhausted to think on that. Trying to stifle a yawn, making his dad chuckle, “seems you need to rest more, stabilise and reform more”. While his mom ruffles his hair, “don’t stay up just to talk. Rest”. Danny grumbles but can’t help agreeing.

Danny wakes up with a start, winces and sits up. Everything ached and his chest constricted every time his heart beat; then it would expand with his cores pulse, with a feeling of cold fire licking at his ribs and lungs; making him cough out plumes of cold air and he could actually hear the creaking of solid rib bones, as his core released waves of cold power. Lightly placing a hand on one of the poles, his core was actually pushing against and vibrating them slightly; which hurt. Not to mention they were easily cold enough to burn a regular human. Technically, he could just take them out himself, but he didn’t really know what they were or how they were anchored into him, especially in such a way as to be able to touch his core even while human. Plus he’d probably disturb his parents, if he hadn’t already. And he knew he had already hurt them, injured his mom. Even if she wouldn’t admit it was him, him hardly being in his right mind didn’t matter, everything his fingers touched broke. And the people around him would always just be waiting till the next time he messed them up. The least he could do, was get better now so they wouldn’t feel bad.

Cautiously putting his feet on the lab floor, before standing only for his dad to startle him. “I’m glad to see you standing! But are you sure that’s okay to be doing, son?”. Danny takes a few steps, his balance was still shot but it wasn’t the most disorienting thing he’s walked around with, “I heal fast. Um the, uh, core braces are doing more harm than good now”. His dad nods, “that’s one thing I could have done without ever needing a use or name for. I’ll get Mads”. Danny fully agrees.

“I’m sure you’re not fully reformed sweetie”. Danny shrugs, it’s rare that he was ever fully healed. Always carrying some injury or another, “I’m fine”. His mom shakes her head and points for Danny to sit back down, “it’s only been two days. You’re not fine, especially with how your skin looks”. Danny blinks a bit before lifting up an arm, it looked as if his veins had literally bruised him. Drawing spidering lines of ugly deep purple and even black the higher up his arm he looked. The rest of the skin being a sickly green-yellow, the sight making him flinch a bit at how it looked very ghostly. But it was obviously more bruising, for once he was kind of glad for all his experience with being battered and bruised. Though his parents probably just thought that was his ghost skin colour or something, especially since normal humans would get a more pale shade of green. Tilting his head down to look at his chest, he’s just assuming his parents removed the bandaging while he was asleep, his chest is pretty well entirely black and his veins are puffed out; there’s slightly more purple tinted colouration around the puncture holes, overall it was definitely not pretty. Though it wasn’t as bad as his accident, which had charred all his skin black and crunchy; even the insides of his veins, which had all exploded thusly exposing the insides.

Danny clears his throat, testing it for any discomfort or pain, as he sits down, “yeah, that’s some nasty bruising. So definitely not a hundred percent. But I’m fine”. His mom shakes her head and sits back down in one of the chairs in front of Danny, “Jack tells me you said you needed these out?”.

Danny looks at his chest again and nods, “pushing against my core, like someone squeezing your wrist a fair bit too tight. And the vibrating isn’t pleasant”. Danny grabs one of the poles lightly, feeling it pulse and vibrate. His mom tentatively following suit before frowning, “you’re right. I didn’t think cores could repair so quickly”. Danny looks down at the floor, it was just something else that made him a freak, “they don’t. Mine does. It’s a...halfa thing”. His dad sits down in a chair, “halfa?”, Danny looks at him and squints, worried about whether he’s talking to Jack the scientist or Jack the father. His mom shuffles, “we need to know, know for your health. To make sure you really are ok, better, healthy. And to, to make sure this never happens again”.

Danny nods weakly and looks at the floor again, “it’s just, it won’t really, there’s not”, shaking his head, “halfas, it’s sort of weird. They’re, we’re, strange. Rare, unique...freaky, sort of considered abominations. There’s not, like, any-”. His mom cuts him off by squeezing his hand, which he squeezes his eyes shut over, while his dad speaks, “I don’t care what anyone has said, or what we’ve said, you are not a monster, son. Not an abomination”. Danny faintly mutters, “you can’t possibly mean that”.

Resulting in his mom squeezing his hand again, “sweetie, I’m going to have to restrain Jack so he doesn’t try hugging you. He’s right, there’s nothing wrong with strange or even freaky, but no matter how unusual, this ‘halfa’ thing is, it is not and you are not, something abominable. Regardless of what ‘halfa’ means, it’s actions not physiology that make abominable monsters”, Danny flicks his eyes up and meets his moms, who smiles before sighing sadly and speaking again, “I know the beliefs we held, that I wish we never had now, called ghosts monsters but all the actions we ever saw from them were malicious. So we made generalisations, but... You’re not malicious, so obviously ghosts as a whole can’t be monsters. There’s just a lot of bad ones. So it’s actions, what they do, not what they are”. Danny’s tempted to call bullshit since they called Phantom a monster but, to those not in the known, some of his actions were viewed as malicious. That just serves to remind him of just how much harm he’s capable of, how he could always be the worst monster of them all.

Shivering and suppressing a wince at one of the poles jarring his core, “we shouldn’t exist. Halfas, we should be impossible. Being like this, it’s a spit in the face of nature”, Danny shakes his head and looks at the floor again, “halfas, hybrids. Half-human and half-ghost. Human and ghost. Not human, not ghost. Both, neither. Alive and dead. Not alive, not dead. Freaks of nature”, Danny scoffs, “I died but not fully. A job done only partway”. Danny flicks his eyes towards his parents, easily picking up on the question they have but don’t want to ask, “I don't mind talking about it; in general anyway. Electrocution, about four billion volts, while the Zone opened up on and in me”. Danny fiddles with fingers as they both cringe. His mom sucks in a breath, “the portal, that you said gave you a little shock”. Danny looks at the floor and nods, “my fault, so it’s whatever. A self-inflected screw-up. No longer fitting in or accepted in either worlds, and never really able to be. A Ghost able to be human, so ghosts hunt me; out of jealousy or hate and for being an affront to nature. A human with ghost powers, so humans hunt me; out of the same. Or they would if they knew”.

His mom breathes out, “Danny...”. While his dad glares at the ground, gritting out, “you’re being hunted”.

Danny nods, still not looking up, after all this was all his fault, “most ghosts that come here, come here for me. Some just to harass, some just to hurt. One wants me in jail for the crime of existing, one wants me to destroy myself, one wants to skin me and put my pelt at the foot of his bed”. Danny shrugs a bit, “some are nice and friendly though. There’s a good six hundred who worship me...they saved me once too”. His mom cups his face and makes him look at her, eyes clearly watering, “sweetie, Danny, t-that’s horrible. You should have-we would, will, protect you. This, what you are shouldn’t matter. To us, you, you’re Danny all the same. This-no one is making you their trophy prize”. Danny shrugs and looks down again, “it’s what it is. I protect myself fine, it’s my problem. The threats...they’re sort of empty anyway. Well, more like they know they can’t actually achieve it. I’m almost indestructible; you, that machine, what it did, that’s the only thing that might kill and destroy me. A self destruct machine for anything with ectoplasm, if I, if I had been a full ghost I would have never even made it to the stairs”.

She shakes her head, “you’re a child. You shouldn’t have died. You shouldn’t, shouldn’t have to protect yourself like that. And we-we will destroy that machine. We can’t hav-”. Danny cuts her off, “don’t”. Both his parents speak in unison, “what?”. With his dad shaking his head, “son, Danny-boy, why? Why would you want us to keep something so dangerous to you? That’s hurt you so badly?”. Danny frowns, “that, that’s the only thing I’ve ever heard of or encountered that could end a halfa. Keep it in case, in case the world needs to be protected from....from a halfa”.

His mom stutters, “i-in case a b-bad one shows up? R-right? Not-not against you”. Danny frowns, “there has only so far been three, including me. All three are around now. One, the oldest one, he’s kind of...insane. Cruel and manipulative, if it benefited him, he can and would kill or destroy anyone. But he’s, he’s weak. Barely an eight on the scale. The youngest, she can’t use much of her powers, or she’ll destroy herself. Even if she’s a fourteen”. Danny sighs and looks at them, “the older might be a threat someday but...yes, yes it’s to use against me. Preferably not, but things hap-”. Danny can’t help but feel a bit jarred and flinch slightly when his dad cuts him off, “no, how could you possibly want someone to try to destroy you? What could make you think that-”. His mom gasps, “sweetie no, I-I know what we’ve said, said about ghosts but you’re not inherently bad because of this. You couldn’t, god, you’d never hurt people, you’d never be a threat”.

Danny frowns, he was a threat already. His existence was wrong, a threat to the social stability of both worlds purely by existing. And his power, even unused, was like letting a bomb walk around without any fail safes. Danny knew the monster he could be, would have been. Probably will be. His obsession would go bad, his power would corrupt him, his core could, Danny flinches and looks quickly to the ground, that could have happened today, his core could be polluted. There are so many ways he could go wrong that it simply wasn’t possible that he never would. Face hot with shame and wincing again from his chest, “you have no idea how wrong you are. My power, me, I’m a twenty-eight. I can’t even count the number of ways I could go bad and I, I would, everything would be destroyed. It’s....it’s happened once already. I’ll always be a monster in the making. And I would use that thing on myself, without question, and I’m the one who knows what that felt like”.

Danny shakes his head and puts on a smile before looking back up to his mom, “um, anyway. Could we, get these out?”. She nods weakly and gets up, clearly walking robotically and she probably doesn’t really want to think at the moment. Maybe she gets it, the only one she was ever really right in calling a freak or monster, was him, was Phantom. That’s what he was and would be. He’s just the monster the world seemed to need, until the day he became the real monster to be defeated by a real hero; not some freak abomination foolishly trying to starve off and ignore the inevitable. No, he was just the blueprint of the monster of monsters. All he could do is hope the good he did now, could make up for all the hurt he’s caused and will cause. His dad mutters, “you’re not a monster and you never will be. You’ll always be Danny, always be my son”. His dad squeezes his shoulder but Danny just looks at the floor, the misplaced hope and belief in him almost hurt more than the hate and threats flung at Phantom.

His mom sits down, clearly a bit awkward, and holds up what looks like a shotgun sized heat cannon, “the, the poles have little spines that a-are hooked in and around your...core. This, goes over the exposed end of the poles and send, sends out a little pulse, de-solidifying the spines. Then we just have to, have to pull them out”. Danny nods, it’s a good thing he didn’t try just yanking them out. The amount of damage that would have done, not too mention the pain. His dad gets up and stands behind Danny, grabbing his shoulders strongly, “this is probably going to hurt, son. Sorry”.

Danny nods, “expected. They’re pretty much impaling my chest and impaling my core”. Apparently, neither of them found his words comforting, as his dad squeezes Danny’s shoulders a bit and his mom winces. With her muttering, “sorry sweetie”, before inserting the first pole into the device. Danny hisses, core spasming enough that everyone could easily see the other poles wiggle, as he feels something like barbed fangs sliding out of his core. His mom puts the device over the next pole, “you good to keep going?”. Danny nods, forcing a smile, while trying to stop his skin from twitching; spasms from his core shooting out over his whole body. But he knew from experience that it really was better not to drag this kind of stuff out.

It’s slow going and she insists on giving him a break every five poles, but after about an hour and a half, all the spines had been deactivated.

Danny rubs the centre of his chest, avoiding the poles, his freshly healed core feeling rather abused and overworked. He couldn’t hide that either, as his core spasming so much had drastically dropped both his temperature and the labs. Danny can feel his dads' hands shiver, so he mutters, “sorry about the cold”.

“Nonsense, so long as this isn’t destabilising your core, it’s not a problem Danny-boy”, his dad chuckles slightly, “though I am glad for my gloves”. Danny chuckles too, at least it seemed like they didn’t fear him.

His mom puts the device back on the table, before coming back and placing one hand on the skin around one of the poles, grabbing the pole gently with the other hand. Danny wants to scold her about using her injured arm, but he knows she won’t hear of it. So instead, Danny grips the bed and nods as she asks, “you ready?”. Danny’s the only one who doesn’t wince as she pulls it out, this part was just standard impalement for Danny; just another Sunday. His mom squints at him, “you fine?”.

“Yup”, Danny pops the ‘p’ for some fake cheeriness. While his mom chews on her lip a bit but continues. This time Danny does flinch, as his mom had pretty well whacked his core with the end of the pole. His dad squeezes Danny’s shoulder while his mom cringes, seeing the other poles twitch from his core objecting to being hit. Danny asks, “uh, maybe remove them a bit straighter”. She nods, “I hit your core, didn’t I”. At Danny’s nod she apologies, which he waves off.

Danny can tell his mom’s being a bit more cautious with the rest of them and thankfully, she only taps his core two more times.

His mom sighs, sitting down again and rubbing at her cast. Which just makes Danny feel guilty again, even horribly injured he was still causing others pain and problems. Danny opts instead to watch his dad wrap the core brace up in cloth to store away, sighing, “I hope those never need to be used again”. Both of them respond near-instantly, “agreed”.

End.

[crazyfreckledginger]

Logan Howlett x Reader - “Fearlessness”

After some mayhem in a bar, in which Logan defends you, you run off. When he catches up with you due to the bad weather, he becomes intrigued by how you react to him.

Requested by anon: “Request for Logan Howlett and when he first meets the reader based off the time he first met Rouge? Reader see Logan in the bar after his fight but stays to him/herself bc they’re too nervous to talk to him. They go to leave after a while but men in the bar start causing problems so Logan defends them and there’s a huge bar fight. After the fight reader leaves and Logan goes after them telling them to wait (bc of the horrible weather) and is surprised when they say they’re not afraid of him.”

A shiver ran up my spine as I hugged my coat closer to my skin. The night was freezing— and the thin layers that I was wearing were not helping either. I opened the bar door and strolled inside. 

The small gloomy hotel that I was currently staying in was not far from here, but the thirst for fresh air and warmth was getting too much for me. So I decided to walk along the small motorway-like path, hoping to find a place that would get me from the depressive state the hotel was leaving me in, and I cheered once I found a small bar that was still open at this time. 

As soon as I inhaled the air inside the place, a frown appeared on my face and my stomach churned at the stench of smoke and alcohol. Soft music was playing in the background as I walked up to the counter, sitting down on one of the empty stools. I looked up at the old man that came up to me whilst he was cleaning a glass. He nodded at me as we made eye contact.

"Something semi-strong, not too expensive," I informed, offering him a light smile. He signed again, understanding what I wanted before he turned his back to me. I sighed, glancing around the small bar, my eyes resting on two people counting money. 

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion but soon averted back to the TV behind the bar, my mind being, too exhausted to put the pieces together. I cringed internally as the television talked about mutants, only thankful for the very few people in the bar minding their own business. I thanked the bartender as he slid my drink over to me. 

Sipping my drink before looking back to the people that were counting money. The few people that were around stood up and walked past them as more people entered the bar and paced straight towards them. A sudden urged to follow them made me stand to my feet and march in that direction. I stood on my feet and prowled towards the small crowd.

"Fifty bucks on the gruff guy!" One of the men slammed money on the counter, in which only the middle-aged lady sat, nodding as she split the money into two different piles, one slightly bigger than the other. 

"Ten on the bald one," Another one whispered, sliding it onto the table. I scanned around the place, not being able to see the— what I would have guessed are two men fighting. I smiled softly once my eyes landed on a spare seat, away from obnoxious men. I scurried to it, sitting down slowly in order to keep my drink steady from spilling. Now, I had the perfect view of what was happening. 

In the middle of the crowd, there were two men, one with a peculiar hairstyle with an equally peculiar beard. He was in a fighting position, confronting a bigger, bald one. Then it finally clicked, these people were making money off of two men fighting each other, disgusting. I stood back up, walking away from the area to sit down on the stool I had originally sat on.

"Fighting not your style?" the bartender asked.

"No, it's revolting in my opinion," I grumbled in response, a smirk plastered on the man's face in amusement. 

It took 20 painful minutes of cheering and loud noises before the fight was finally finished and everyone cleared out. I was on my third drink by then, and thankfully, the alcohol percentage in the drinks were not high enough to make me the least tipsy. 

As the bar became calm again, the radio soothing the atmosphere that had been tense minutes ago, I distinguished one of the men that had fought sliding on a stool on my left. I glanced up at him, seeing him put a cigar in his mouth and searching for something in his jacket pocket. 

The white top he was wearing had long disappeared under the numerous shirts he had put to keep himself warm from the freezing temperature outside. He looked up at me at the feeling of a piercing gaze on him, causing me to look away momentarily until he went back to whatever he was doing. 

This man stroke my curiosity like a truck, he looked so miserable, so done with life, and yet he was living off of fighting people. He looked young— well, he didn't look old. He glanced at me for a millisecond, lighting his cigar before looking back at the TV. 

I rolled my eyes as the topic about mutants reappeared on the news, but it made me realise something. I've never shown any type of curiousness towards someone unless it was something of my kind. Thoughts rushed through my brain at the possibility, I was able to sense people like that. He caught me looking too long at him and my attention snapped back to my empty glass. 

After approximately ten minutes, the sound of two drunk men echoed in the bar. The tiredness and alcohol finally having its' effects on my brain. It's throbbing finally persuaded me into going back to the hotel. I slid the money to the bartender, glancing towards the door as the two obnoxious men stood up drunkenly and wobbled towards it. I smiled at the old man, not thinking the two men would be any trouble as I rose up and walked towards the door. 

"Where're you going darling?" One of the men slurred, slamming his hand on the wall beside the door to obstruct me.

"Home," I stated, pushing his hand lightly away.

"Don't you want to have fun?" The other one asked, standing in front of me. My muscles tensed immediately at his question, his eyes never leaving mine. 

"How 'bout you leave the lady alone bub," A gruff voice stated. I felt a tall figure towering behind me. I could only imagine it was the man that I had sensed. "It's none of your business mate, leave her to make the decision yeah?" The second man spoke up.

"Do you want to be with these guys?" The man turned to me. My eyes widened in response, a certain anxious feeling washing over me. I didn't want to answer the question.

"I don't think that's a yes," He grumbled, pushing one of the men's chests away.

"She didn't answer the question asshole!" He yelled, slapping his arm away. The man pinned the drunkard to the wall, claws coming out of his knuckles. My eyes widened in surprise, a gasp escaping my lips.

"What the fuck are you, you freak!" He blurted out, trying to pry his arm away. 

"Leave this fucking bar and don't you go cat callin' ladies out a'right?" He threatened.

"The both of you!" He ordered, pushing them out of the bar. They ran away, glancing back towards him as they disappeared into the darkness. I turned to the man after taking a deep breath.

"Thank you," I whispered, smiling softly before rushing out of the bar.

"Wait," He called out, running behind me, the loud snow nearly erasing the sound that the intimidating man was releasing. Soon, his footsteps were distinguishable as I spotted his legs in the corner of my eye.

"Listen, you can't tell anyone about this," He said.

"Okay," I stated. I could feel his confusion but simply ignored it.

"What just like that? Do you really think I can trust you?" He scoffed. 

"Truth is, I'm like you okay?" I admitted, continuing my journey in the cold.  

"What?" He murmured.

"I'm a mutant, and you're a mutant, and don't think for a second that I'm scared of you," I pointed at him.

"What makes you think I want you to be scared of me?" He smirked.

"I can tell, that's my power, to tell what people feel. Just because you're intimidating, doesn't mean I'm scared of you!" I explained, my eyebrows furrowing once I said it.

"Okay, that sounded better in my head," I defended as he chuckled softly.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go home!" I stated, wobbling in the now thick snow underneath me. 

"Wait," He called out. I turned around annoyed, staring at him.

"Do you really want to go home? Don't you want a drink?" He questioned.

"I've had enough drinks for one night," I grumbled, turning back.

"You shouldn't go back, the snow is going to get heavier." He stated.

"Fine, lead the way,"

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Tagging: @lumifuer @plethora-of-things @xlatinaaxx @ijustwantmyshipstobehappy @lostnliterature

[wolfofwinchester]

amaryllis / poppy / snapdragon / willow

 BOTATNICAL HEADCANONS // @saphireign

amaryllis :  what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in ? how do they express that pride ?

Claudia has great pride in her skill as a fiddler. When she was young, she was rocky with it - she still remembers the sharp strings and off-cord screeches and discordance, and how she’d flinch and scowl at herself for her mistakes, and her impatience. It’s a practice that took dedication, and she oft got very frustrated with not being able to bow it as well as other members of her family. She’d toss it on her bed and leave it whenever her head was full of angry scribbles, she’d get so angry she’d bow too hard and bust a few strings and end up lashing her knuckles. She had her childhood history of frustration and very rocky learning.

But she learned, and it showed she knew she was learning. Seeing her own improvement when the aggravation for not being perfect went away set her on fire with determination, and suddenly she wasn’t tossing fit as hard anymore. Still had her bouts, but she knew she was getting better.

She shows her pride by showing off. Any party, any celebration Claudia throws, she performs. She hops on the grand tables and she dances while playing her fiddle, her energy infecting the melody and bowing out this bewitching affect by pure nature. Her enthusiasm, her wild spirit poured into the strings, her hand moving so fast it might as well be a blur, and her mulberry lips spread into such a wild grin to fit. People are captivated when she plays, and her playful energy easily boosts moods in the room who watch her perform.

poppy :  what comforts your muse ?

Hugs that last longer than they should. A loved one tenderly stroking and playing with her hair. The smell of rosemary.

Hugs are an assurance. Claudia’s a complete melter for any loved one playing with her hair and stroking it, especially if they’re holding her close to their bod. The smell of rosemary has a long history with her, her mother and her aunt, and it’s an automatic comfort trigger whenever it’s close in her vicinity. Her room has aromatic hangings of it.

snapdragon :  is your muse merciful ? why or why not ?

It’s a case-by-case basis honestly, but “mercy” with Claudia is honestly something that can be heavily debated about in terms of the extended even considered as merciful. Her definition is, “you didn’t die, now did you?”, after all.

One of her cases of mercy involved severing the main fingers of a man’s hand and persuading him into joining forces with her rather than working with her opposition (the fingerless man is Terrance J. Brent, a taxman who was under the thumb of a noble known was “Lord Cayman”. The wicked noble blackmailed him into attempting assassination upon the Countess vis-à-vis a poisonous trigger trap). Another is more exemplary, as she aided a woman who was in poverty and had no other choice in terms of getting by without more dire alternatives, and helped her comfortably get out of the country.

Claudia’s merciful, but it’s case-by-case, and it’s in divergent degrees depending on those cases. Some who’ve she’s given mercy to will tell you she’s a terrifying goddamn woman, and others will tell you she’s a godsend.

It’s the ones in poverty and clearly have a good light in them that earn Claudia’s more gentle mercy. She came from poverty herself, and thanks to the  Queen, almost died from it. Poverty’s affected the Countess and her values on deep levels, and come into accounting with this. The poor get hesitation for cruelty, unless they’re absolutely the most awful breed she sees at face value, because not all who are poor are hapless souls who only need one good deed. It all depends on if she sees that light in them or not, and she does look for it before she acts.

willow :  how does your muse handle sadness  &  depression ?

Sadness and Depression do hit her, and they hit her hard when the manic energy she has isn’t enough to keep her ferried away from all the dower waiting in her core. They’re emotions, and a state of mind she’s.. not adapted to, and so she often never knows what the hell to do with herself. She’s not used to being chained to boulders on the inside that pull her way down and drain her as much as they do. She’s a very disgruntled depressive, and she’s honestly angry, and her temper shows here. She snaps a touch easier, her words bite, and angry looks escape more easily than she intends them to. Matters don’t help that anemia is also tied to depression, and so she ends up being bedridden, and when not bedridden, curled up in the window seat in her office.

And two ways she she handles it are going under a spoiler. contains sexual content and self-harm.

Should she have a lover, be them romantic or friends with benefits who she cares a great, great deal for, she’ll gently initiate. Make her forget she’s feeling like this - get her fucking mind off of feeling like this. Sex is a powerful and intimate act, and her head feels like it’s a stone drowned in fog, her heart feels as though it’s going through a slow-churning meat grinder. Depression is a special kind of hell to a hyperactive personality like Claudia. 

This isn’t to say “sex is the key”, because it’s not. There’s the off-chute chance it doesn’t even help, but the majority of how it does makes her want to give it a shot. If her lover is on romantic terms, it’s much more successful. The kissing, the touching, their sounds. It’s a whole other level when you’re in love with the other person, and it helps.

The other way, as I’m sad to say, is self-harm. Witchcraft can come with acts of self-harm (blood offering), especially when you serve the darker Goddesses like Claudia. It’s normalized, although her mother and aunt have tried to make it less so.

Claudia discovered self-harm when she’s feeling like this.. “alleviates” it. It’s no simple cutting that she does though; when these moods happen, she does cut herself, but she makes blood art out of it. She’ll lock herself away in her room, whip out her easel, and paint with her own blood. She does this carefully, she isn’t trying to commit suicide, and she is incredibly mindful of how dangerous this is when she has anemia, so the paintings are never big - they’re small, or normal-sized ones that have been long projects between these very dower moods. 

These pieces of artwork make her feel complicated, while also feeling nothing at all. She hates them, but when the mood is over, she feels a strange sense of self-pleasure in herself for doing them. It’s concerning, and it’s dark, but that’s Claudia. 

These pieces of art end up works at her hidden altar in the forest. To The Morrígan’s only though, as Brigid has expressed her displeasure in such an offering. But in her room, there is one piece that’s of her own face, placed upon the wall. Any who are granted access to her room feel as though that painting is strangely alive, and is very aware of their presence. 

[seanpatricklittlewriter]

Vicious Cycle

 A while back, I wrote about the physical aspects of my creative process—where I write, the tools I used, etc… Now, to mix it up a little bit, I want to talk about the mental aspects of the creative process, at least the mental aspects of my creative process. I can’t speak for every creative person, and I certainly can’t speak for other writers.

 I am impressed by how some writers have an incredible, workman-like approach to the craft. Stephen King is amazing, of course. He is prolific. He writes every day, rain or shine, holiday or not. He’s at his desk by seven or eight in the morning, and he goes until lunch, maybe later.  Of course, there are other writers than make King look like he’s suffering from writer’s block. John Creasy, a British mystery novelist, has written over 500 books under a dozen pen names. That guy is a workhorse.  In Stephen King’s book, ON WRITING: A MEMOIR OF THE CRAFT, King talks about Anthony Trollope:

“At the other end of the spectrum, there are writers like Anthony Trollope. He wrote humongous novels (Can You Forgive Her? is a fair enough example; for modern audiences it might be retitled Can You Possibly Finish It?), and he pumped them out with amazing regularity. His day job was as a clerk in the British Postal Department (the red public mailboxes all over Britain were Anthony Trollope’s invention); he wrote for two and a half hours each morning before leaving for work. This schedule was ironclad. If he was in mid-sentence when the two and a half hours expired, he left that sentence unfinished until the next morning. And if he happened to finish one of his six-hundred-page heavyweights with fifteen minutes of the session remaining, he wrote The End, set the manuscript aside, and began work on the next book.”

That is an admirable work ethic. And an incredible pace. Every writer has to figure out what works for him or herself. Writing is a personal art. Some people work better at night. Some in the early morning. Some need quiet. Some blast music (the louder, the better). Some have little spaces set up where they write daily. Some write in various locations—you get the idea. Whatever works best for you, you must do. When people tell me they’d like to write, but they don’t have the time, I always think, “Then you don’t really want to write.” You  make time for what’s important to you, always. If you value television (as I do), you find the time to watch. Runners find time to run. Anglers find time to fish. Painters find time to paint. Barbarian hordes find time to bathe in the blood of their enemies. You make time for what is important to you.

When it comes to the amount of dedication it takes to write 300 pages of a rough draft, that has never been a problem for me. I have been churning out novels since I was in high school. I wrote at least one or two piles of garbage in high school, and I probably cranked out several thousand pages of unreadable hack when I was in college. (This is a good thing, though—Brian Michael Bendis said that you have to write about 20,000 pages of slop before you start to figure out what you’re doing.) I can always find time to write. Even when I worked jobs that had me doing 12-hour days, I would manage to scrape out a paragraph or two at night. Before John Grisham quit law to write full-time, he wrote on legal pads between court cases. I read a story about a mystery writer who was driving semis, and he would dictate his story into cassettes while he drove, then he paid a local gal in his hometown to transcribe the stories to MS Word for him. I have known servers who wrote scraps of stories in order pads with cheap pens standing at the counter waiting for an order to be put up. Point is—if it is important to you, you’ll do it.

Writing isn’t about waiting for some mythical muse to kick you in the ass. It’s not about art. It’s not about being attuned to the celestial heavens. Over my lifetime of writing, reading about writing, taking classes on writing, and teaching classes on writing, more than anything else I’ve learned, writing is about putting your butt in a seat and writing. That’s it. No magic. No inspiration. Just sit and do. If you can’t do that, you can’t write. I get people (especially students) telling me about stories they have in their heads. They can summarize them well. They can tell you about them for days. However, the story stays unwritten until they can put themselves in the chair and write it out. My good friend, Nella Citino, gave me a mug a few years ago that I keep on my desk at home. It says, “Any idiot can come up with a good idea—get it written!”  That is the truth of the matter. Put up, or shut up. Sit down and write.

That’s all fine and dandy to say, I know. The actual practice of it is much harder in reality. I have learned that my own creative process tends to follow an ebb and flow. When I’m writing, I’m 100 percent writing. I don’t want to edit. I don’t want to read someone else’s book. I don’t want to watch TV. I write as long and as hard as I can. I write until the backs of my hands hurt from typing. I write until my vision goes blurry from staring at the screen.

When I get into editing, I don’t have time for writing. The two modes are different parts of my brain, it seems. I cannot switch back and forth between the modes easily. I don’t have time for someone else’s book, either. I cannot enjoy reading a new book when I’m in editing mode. I get too critical. I get too into the “That’s not what I would have done there…” mode, and I start to hate that book. I feel like I have unfairly subjected some authors to that mode of my brain and now I dislike their stuff.

When I am out of the writing and editing modes, I get fully into the reading mode. I will read six or seven hours a day. I will put away three or four books a week when I’m in that mode. I have always been a fast reader, and when I’m in that mode, I read even faster. I enjoy reading in that mode. When I’m trying to read when I’m in writing mode, I have no patience for reading. Why read someone else’s story when I’m not done telling my own, yet? I do force myself to read when I’m in writing mode, but it’s only after I’ve put in a full day of writing, or I’ve had to take a break from writing because my hands hurt too much to continue. (Getting old is for the birds.)

My final mode in the creative process is the do nothing mode. It happens usually after I first finish a book and my brain begins to feed me the “why bother” rap it has perfected over the years. “Why bother?” it says. “Wouldn’t you be happier lounging back into depression and playing video games for fourteen straight hours?”

--You have a point, Brain.

“How about you maybe just watch Scrubs reruns instead of writing?”

--Brain, you are on fire!

“Hey—remember five years ago when you accidently read that really negative review of one of your books? Go back and reread that comment so you know not to do this anymore.”

--As you command, Overlord.

This do-nothing mode is one of the worst things my brain tries to do to me. It is very easy to slip into, because doing nothing is literally the easiest thing in the world to do. Doing nothing requires zero effort. Doing anything at all requires 100 percent more effort than doing nothing.

I have quit writing books at least a thousand times in my life, maybe more. Every time this weird creative cycle in my brain hits this point in the rotation, I quit being a writer. “Been thirty years with no real success to show for it, Fatso,” says my Brain. “Do the world a favor and shelf your keyboard.”

And I do. I do every time. Every time I hit that point in my creative process, I officially quit writing.

Sometimes, that brain-forced retirement lasts months. Sometimes, it’s only a few hours. But I always quit.

I also always come back.

In the movie, THROW MOMMA FROM THE TRAIN, Billy Crystal uses the expression, “Writers write. Always.” It is something my father has repeated to me many times over the years. It is something I have imparted to my students many times. It is okay to quit writing. If you stay retired from it, though—that is where you run into problems.

I have found that I am able to claw my way back from those self-imposed bouts of retirement through sheer force of will. Pick up the computer. Open the file. Put your damn hands on the keyboard and make some words. Sometimes, I do that, and I will only get a few words, maybe a sentence or two. Nevertheless, I will have written something. That’s the key. The next day, I might only get a few words again. Maybe I only sat at the computer for ten minutes before letting that negative part of my brain take over for the day. (“C’mon Fatboy…let’s go re-watch THE PRINCESS BRIDE.”  –Swell idea, Brain.) But it IS a few words that I did not have that morning, and that is what counts.

I am getting better and the productivity side of writing. I am getting better at knowing that I can sit down and churn out five or ten pages in a sitting, even if I don’t “feel” like doing it. Those pages might need some enhancement later on, but they will exist. It is always easier to go back and enhance. You cannot edit if the pages don’t exist.

I know I’m hardly an expert on writing. I know that my pathetic sales are a misty, almost evaporated drop in the wide and vast lake of publishing. I know that I am not an expert on the creative process. This is just a summary of how my brain works when I write. It is why I do what I do. And why I want to write. It might not help you, but it is something to read and consider.

If you struggle in a creative field like I do, like so many of us do, I think it is important to remember that we are not alone. We are all tiny little ships making our own way on a large, cruel sea. Your mast might snap. You might hit a rock. A big whale might sneeze on you. Maybe you don’t feel like holding the tiller anymore. This is okay. It is all part of the process.

But don’t give up.

Keep sailing.

I hope we all get to where we want to go.

[kashi-prompts]

Prompt: None

Subject: Reader has a bout of anxiety and Kakashi finds her and helps her through it. 

Pairing: Kakashi x anxious!reader

Rating: T

* * * * * * * * * * * 

Lightning struck in the distance, sending a burst of flashing light throughout the kitchen. You held the knife poised to continue cutting the fish and paused, bracing yourself for the thunder. Your hand on the knife tightened and you closed your eyes, feeling the rumble come from a long distance away and into your home. It shook the ground, causing a chill to run down your spine. You shook your head, putting the knife down.

Not now, you told yourself. You swallowed hard, your face and neck beginning to burn. You shook your head, trying to distract yourself. You walked out into the small living room you and Kakashi shared. You frowned, realizing the feeling wasn’t going away.

Kakashi wasn’t home. And he wasn’t due to be home for another 20 minutes. When you felt panic like this set in without reason, you feared it would be quite awhile before you could bring yourself down. You didn’t want him to see you like this. Despite the fact that the two of you had been dating for over 2 years, you always hid your panic attacks from him. You didn’t want him to see you in such a weak state.

You swallowed again, leaning against the frame of the door as you crossed your arms over your chest. Your ears were burning with heat and your chest began to ache as you tried to use all the oxygen you could left in it. You opened your eyes, your vision beginning to tunnel. Quickly, you slid yourself down to the hardwood floor, the sides of your hands beginning to turn numb in the process.

You were shaking now and you couldn’t stop yourself. You began to cry because you knew there was no coming back now. Once you reached this level of anxiety, you couldn’t bring yourself back down without the help of medication. But getting up right now would require you to stand up, and you weren’t sure your legs to take you that far to your stash you kept hidden from Kakashi.

You felt bad for keeping such a secret from him, but you didn’t want him to leave you. You had previously had men leave you for that very reason, seeing you as weak and needy. This time, you couldn’t bare share such a shameful thing to someone who loved you as much as Kakashi did.

Tears wet your cheeks as you leaned your head back against the wall, trying not to faint as you began hyperventilating. Your nostrils ached under the heavy burden you were putting them under.

Thunder sounded again in the distance, the sound of heavy rainfall on the roof filled your ears as blood rushed through them. You put your head between your knees, pulling them closer to you as you wept in shame. There was no reason to be like this. No reason to feel such sudden anxiety for no reason. And yet here you were, trying not to faint because you were cooking dinner and the thunder had startled you.

In the distance, you heard the outside door open, the sound of rain pouring itself onto the earth filling your ears again.

“I’m home!” you heard Kakashi yell into the empty house. You were going to stand up, but you couldn’t risk it. Your stomach churned with nausea from both your anxiety and now the fact that he was about to see you like this.

“[y/n]?” he called out to you, his voice sounding tired.

“[y/n],” his eyes landed on you, pale, crying and shaking on the living room floor. His tired voice quickly turned to concern as he dropped his bag to the floor with a thud and knelt down next to you.

“What happened?” he quickly asked you, his single visible eye overwhelmed with concern. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes as you flexed your hands to try and get the feeling to return to them. Your chest ached as you tried to breathe more heavily. You wished your heart would stop pounding, for he could probably hear it.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his hand hovering over your shoulder as if afraid to touch you. “Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?”

You shook your head quickly, your eyes snapping open as you looked up at him, helpless. The last thing you wanted was to be sent to a hospital where they could tell you that there was nothing wrong with you, as you knew. That is what everyone in your family was used to doing so they didn’t have to deal with you.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” his voice cracked a bit, exposing how concerned he was for you in this moment.

“I’m nervous,” you managed, swallowing hard as you looked away.

“Why?” he asked, “did something happen?”

You shook your head, biting your lip as you tried not to cry again. Your chin quivered.

“Alright,” he nodded, looking around the room as he let out a breath. “Uh, is there something I can do for you right now?”

You shook your head, unsure of what there was to do.

“Just stay with me,” you managed again.

Kakashi looked down at you, nodding before arranging himself on the floor next to you. You could feel how tense his body was next to you.

“Nice weather we’re having,” he tried, leaning against the wall next to you. You smiled at him, nodding your head.

“Today I filled out some paperwork,” he tried to make conversation, distracting you from yourself. Just his words seem to ease your tense muscles. Next to you, you could feel him relax also.

“About what?” you asked, your voice shaking.

“Ah, the usual. Mission acknowledgments, payments, letters to the other Kage’s,” he tilted his head side to side with each word, his voice sounding cheerier than usual.

“Sounds like fun,” you tried to smile.

“Yeah, it was great,” he chuckled softly. He looked down at your hands as you continued to flex them. Carefully, he reached over and took one in his hand, his fingers moving in deliberate motions into your palm.

“Did you do anything interesting today?” he asked. Your breathing was calming a bit just hearing his voice.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I tried to cook dinner for you.”

“Ah,” he smiled, “a noble effort. What is it?”

“Broiled saury,” you told him. He smirked beside you.

“My favorite,” he murmured, leaning over and planting a kiss on your temple. He stayed there, his lips hovering about the skin of your temple as your heartbeat fell. You could feel his nose nuzzling your hair, and carefully, he let go of your hand and wrapped his arms around you. You exhaled softly, feeling exhausted as you fell into his chest. He kissed the top of your head, rubbing your shoulder with his calloused fingers.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered into his chest. You curled up in his arms, feeling yourself begin to cry again.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he told you quietly, “everything is fine.”

His legs were tangled with yours and you had to imagine his position was uncomfortable for him. And yet, he stayed there, holding you.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” you told him. “I didn’t want you to see me as someone who can’t control their emotions. It makes me look childish and weak and-”

“[y/n],” he pulled you away,  looking down at you, “why would you think I would feel that way?”

You averted your eyes from him, peering into the kitchen at the dinner you left unattended to just a few minutes ago. Your body was still buzzing with anxiety, but just Kakashi’s presence had reduced it significantly. Your heartbeat finally stabilized as you looked back up at him, unable to answer his question.

“Does this happen often?” he asked, frowning behind his mask.

You nodded sadly, your chin quivering again.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he frowned again, pulling you closer to him. You clung to his torso, letting him hold you as you sat on the floor crying. You always felt so angry after these things happened to you. You were so upset that you even had to deal with them, and now you had given the burden to him.

“I want you to know, that things like this don’t bother me,” he told you once you had quieted yourself against him. His fingers traced a circle around the base of your spine, and you breathed in his scent, letting it linger in your mind before exhaling a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” you told him again, “I don’t want to deal with this either.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” he assured you. His voice was genuine. “I wish you had told me sooner that these things happen to you. Maybe I could’ve helped. I hope I helped you now.”

You nodded, lifting your head and looking up at him, “thank you.”

He smiled, hooking a finger under his mask to pull it down. Carefully, he planted his lips to yours, letting them linger for a moment before pulling away.

“My pleasure.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

This was a prompt I wrote on another blog of mine regarding Kakashi prompts that I forgot the password to because I’m dumb. 

But I thought of this short little drabble to write because I’ve been dealing with a lot of anxiety lately. I’ve dealt with panic disorder since I was 11, so that’s going on over a decade now. I know full well what it’s like to have a panic attack over nothing. If you’re suffering from anxiety or depression and you need someone to talk to, feel free to message me. I’m always here to help.

That being said, I hope you like my little trash one-shot. I just like making us suffer and him save us I guess?

[autofoebia]

this is a big ol mess but i love delving into how depression affects people. noah is very much based off of my own inability to handle strong emotions, so his depression is very much a reflection of me. also i wanted to write kissing. this vignette is a huge mess but i kind of like it

.・゜゜・.・゜゜volatile

Noah was depressed. Usually he found time to work and distract himself from the constant calls back to bed. Usually he could ignore his overbearingly dark thoughts. Usually he had Billy or Bea or someone to talk to or listen to, someone to drown out the white noise. Usually. Right now, Noah had a bed that smelled too much like himself and his arms wrapped tightly around a teddy bear that was half his size. Billy Jr., unlike the regular Billy, was cold from the freezing air of the apartment and unable to hug back. The sentiment of the bear, though, the meaning behind it— that was enough to keep him in bed instead of on the pavement ten stories down in a puddle of his own gore.

The bed squeaked as Noah wiggled to peer out of his half-shuddered window. New York City stared back, an ever present voyeur for his sorry excuse for a life. Billy Jr., still unmoving, said “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Noah.” and Noah grunted his reply and buried his face deep into the stuffed animal’s stomach. He didn’t need a pep talk from something that couldn’t actually talk. He needed a cigarette and a beer and a long, long fall.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Noah.”

“Shut up.” He replied, voice cracked and raw, as if he hadn’t spoken for weeks or months or years, “Shut up, shut up.” At the end of the day, he wasn’t exactly sure who he was talking to. The thoughts, so deceptively casual, played on repeat no matter how desperate his cries became, and the voice of his oversized stuffed animal came at inopportune moments, when he was off guard and rubbed raw by bouts of anger and bone-numbing sadness. The most catching thing about the voice was that it was Billy’s, accent and warmth included. Such small details was how Noah knew he was fucked relationship wise; he’d never been snared so fully by someone else, and seeking comfort in Billy’s voice scared him senseless. Noah swallowed his fright in favor of cool apathy but, in weak moments like this, he was too tired to even control his quivering lips. Tears threatened to spill, so he squeezed his eyes shut. His throat threatened to close, so he swallowed repeatedly and said, again, “Shut up.” He fought and fought and fought the urge to cry until, suddenly, he heard the click of his front door unlocking.

“Hey, Noah? You home?” Billy called from the hall. Noah lifted his head and looked blankly at the door to his bedroom. Just beyond, he could hear the shuffle of Billy removing his jacket, dropping his bags, already so comfortable despite being away for nearly two weeks. Oh, how domestic, how normal, how so very Billy. Noah wanted to scream out in anger and tear apart his pillow as his brain simmered in rage over Billy’s nonchalance. Mad, he was mad, and then suddenly he was so upset he could barely move or think. He barely even registered the sound of his bedroom door creaking open and Billy’s voice calling out his name again, now even more concerned. Noah hid his face in Billy Jr.’s chest and shuddered as he felt the bed dip under Billy’s added weight.

“Noah?” Billy said, “Noah? Hey? You alright? Wanna get up?” Noah didn’t respond at first. He still didn’t feel put together enough to move. He squeezed Billy Jr. tightly and sighed, trying to cough up all the bad feeling into the soft, fake fur that he was inhaling. All he managed to do was choke on the thickness in his throat.

“Noah?” Billy said and his hand clutched Noah’s shoulder.

“Sorry.” Noah choked out, curling up more, tightening himself into a literal ball of anxiety, “I’m sorry. Give me a second.” He felt Billy release him, lean back, the bed creaked as if Billy were getting ready to stand up, and Noah snapped his arm back to grab Billy’s arm. “Don’t go. Just, I just need a second.” He was lying.

“Alright.” Billy said. His fingers loosened Noah’s grip and held his hand, all warmth and gentle energy. Noah sucked in another low groan, head shifting slowly against Billy Jr.’s soft stomach until, finally, he could school his expression enough to turn and stare blankly at Billy’s back. He didn’t look back and seemed infinitely content to just lace his fingers with Noah’s and sit in silence. Noah, however, was sick of all this quiet. He pulled Billy’s arm slightly and shifted in bed until he was facing him. Billy turned and smiled, and Noah’s heart settled just a smidge. Rage, though. Rage still churned in the corners of his brain like embers.

“Hey.” Billy said. He pulled himself further onto the bed, just barely settling against Noah’s curled legs. When Noah didn’t complain Billy gladly threw all his weight against him.

“Hey.” Noah repeated. He felt utterly drained still, but his words were concise and clear and real enough, “Sorry. I’ve been sick lately.” Lying felt as easy as breathing in this state, but lying to Billy felt synonymous with sin somehow. “Not… Not cold sick. Like. Like, uh,”

“Mental stuff?” Billy offered with an ever curious smile and Noah nodded, pulling Billy’s head closer to press against his forehead, “Was it because I went--”

“It’s not your fault, at all.” Noah said tightly, “Not at all.” He allowed the shadow of a frown to curl his lips downward, and all those sharp edges that he usually possessed when he was good and busy and unapproachable wilted like dead flowers. Billy wasn’t allowed to feel bad for Noah’s state of mind, not at all. It just wasn’t right, wasn’t good, wasn’t fair. Noah pressed his lips to the back of Billy’s hand and struggled around a breath. Billy looked on with that horrible pity that usually appeared whenever he felt bad for someone other than himself. Some of those sharp edges filed themselves to poisonous points again, viper fangs hidden among his cover flesh, on the defense and poised to strike.

“It’s just-- I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way, bud. ‘S kind of freaky.”

“Well, usually I’m too busy to get this way, bud,” Noah snapped, “But the diner fired me and the director for the new show needs more time without me in the theater. I don’t like sitting still. I don’t like the quiet..”

“Obviously.” Billy huffed and pulled Noah’s hand back, staring intently as the loose, long-sleeved shirt slipped down his wrist to reveal a pale swath of unmarked skin. Noah ripped his hand away, quick as a bullet, and Billy’s hands rose in a half-second plea for mercy. Venom bubbled.

“Quit that-- that nosy shit. Don’t be so fucking soft either, hick. I know you’re dying to ask some stupid fucking questions.” Noah sat up quickly and attempted to stand, but the combination of vaulting over Billy Jr.’s relatively large body and a day without food and water resulted in his knees giving out. He fell to the hardwood floor like a bag of bricks, loud and explosive and clattering.

“Noah?” Billy called. He rushed around the bed to kneel beside him, “Jesus, have you even eaten since I left? You look like a fuckin zombie.”

“Shut up.” Noah growled and an honest-to-god sneer split his usually expressionless face in two, “Shut up, shut up. Don’t-- don’t even think about feeling bad for me.”

“I didn’t say I did.”

“You look it, you fucking bleeding heart. God, Billy,” Noah dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and sucked in a shaky, hot gasp. He was on the edge again, teetering dangerously into territories he could only imagine skimming passed. Tears and anger were one in the same, all salt and fire and fear, but crying was impossible. Impossible in front of Billy, in front of Billy Jr., in front of anyone--

“Noah, come on.” Billy said, soft as can be, and suddenly the heat that was within Noah was all around him, encompassing him, except it didn't burn away his flesh like it did his brain. It nurtured, it scared away the cold, it reminded Noah that, yes, there was someone else here now to help chase away the static. Noah’s head fell onto Billy’s shoulder and he leaned heavily into the hug and he shook. And he thought about it. He thought about crying here, sobbing his fucking heart out. And then that thought just was, words formed into action formed into existence. Noah sniffled and pulled Billy closer, seeking to impale himself on all of the other man’s volatile edges and just become something other than himself, just for a few minutes. And he cried, really, truly, honestly cried. It was the most honest he’d ever felt.

Whatever garbled apologies he tried to pass on were shushed incessantly, and Billy’s hand worked through the small knots at the nap of Noah’s neck as he rocked him back and forth. Noah cried, and cried, and cried, until finally he felt the soaked wool of Billy’s sweater stick to his cheek and he was forced to pull his skin free.

“Feeling better, kid?” Billy said. His hand caught Noah’s chin again, tilting his face up. Noah stared owlishly into Billy’s pretty eyes, his handsome face, and he sniffled again because he just felt like such a tool for absolutely everything that just happened. All he could manage to say, though, was:

“Sorry about your sweater.”

Billy chuckled, eyebrows furrowing. ���I’m not gonna let you get off easy just because you cried, you know. I don’t ask stupid questions all the time.” He hummed, pressing a quick kiss to Noah’s cheek, and then his forehead, “I do need you to know that you’re allowed to feel bad, Noah. Just try not to take it all out on little old me.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Noah said and he felt as if the world wa sos small then, and so gray and cold. “I didn’t mean to, Billy. I’m sorry.” He curled an arm around Billy’s neck and pulled him in close, trying to hide the wavering childishness that infected his voice as he mumbled, “I missed you.”

“Noah.” Billy smiled wide and turned to press fleeting, warm kisses against his cheek and jaw and ear. Noah moved in tandem and turned to catch his lips. It wasn’t an excuse, or a bribe, just another silent apology. He kissed Billy like the world was about to end, like everything he was started and stopped at his lips, like he loved him so purely and sweetly that he could just say those words without issue. Noah’s hand slipped through Billy’s unruly hair and pulled him in closer, clutching at all of him as if he were another unhealthy vice he was indulging himself in, and perhaps he was. Kissing Billy was better than most drugs, after all.

Billy adjusted and pressed forward, forcing Noah to release Billy and hold himself up instead. The kissing grew a bit more desperate, a bit more unruly. Noah groaned weakly and scrambled to stay upright as Billy leaned further into him, but all those years carrying around stage equipment did nothing to prepare Noah for the massive monster that was William Halford. He fell back without warning and both of them collided with the dark wood nightstand that sat beside Noah’s bed. For a moment he saw stars or, maybe, hearts.

“Ow, shit.” Billy sat up, rubbing his forehead as he also pull a stunned Noah back into his chest, “Bump your head?”

“What the hell do you think, idiot?” Noah grumbled, holding the sore spot with all the tenderness he could muster and still it wasn’t enough, “God. No more kissing for now. I need to eat something.” “Yeah you do.” Billy said and he pulled Noah to his feet, “Let's order some Chinese food or something. I’ll buy. And we can just… Cool down.”

“Sounds good, Billy.”